Just Give Me the Pixels Simulating the Damn Ball!

NICK: I think if you knew my situation, you might be inclined to excuse me.

"We didn't even ask for product placement. They just put that in on their own," says Alison Ross, promotions manager for EA Sports and the major force behind the Madden Challenge. The reference in Runaway Jury is yet another acknowledgment of the cultural force that video games have become. Madden NFL—branded after John Madden, the former Oakland Raiders coach turned folksy broadcaster—is considered the most realistic football simulation yet, allowing you to take any NFL team, along with its most recent roster of real-life players, through all the tribulations of an actual season. And it's jumped beyond the home screen, spawning a competition: the Madden Challenge.

Now in its third year, the contest draws thousands of gamers from 32 cities to find out who is the greatest Madden NFL player in America. The grand prize: $50,000 and, more importantly, bragging rights.

As the 32 contenders gather last Saturday in the House of Blues, it looks more like a tailgate party than the finals of a competition. Scattered around the 20 or so television screens in the pit are a crowd of out-of-shape gamers, each decked out in an EA Sports football jersey, personalized with nicknames like "Tru Legend" and "Young Gunz." There's an assortment of ages and body shapes present.

"It's an incredible equalizer," Ross says. "You'll see a 13-year-old standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a 30-year-old in competition."

The emcee, Timino "The Beast" Washington, calls each member of the motley crew up to choose a slot number. "What time is it?" he yells. "Game time!" the players chant in unison. And so it begins.

Initially, the room becomes the quietest arcade in history. With placid faces, Mike "Mad Dog" McAnany, of New York City, and Philadelphian Eugene "Big Gene" Williams go head to head, each using the Atlanta Falcons. Big Gene quickly scores a touchdown, then squeezes in a second before the first quarter ends. Mad Dog shrugs calmly. "Just having a bad day. Not playing that well. Having a good game though. Just got to make a comeback."

An assistant manager at Gamestop back home, Mad Dog has been a hard-core gamer for more than 10 years. "Madden's just the best football game out there," he says. "It's got the best game play. It's the most realistic."

Realism is the name of the game with sports titles. Any reputable simulation will have a deep franchise mode that takes into account everything. The representations of real-life athletes must not only look true to life, but also have skill sets that truly reflect their stats. Madden ballplayers can even throw lifelike hissy fits. If a player is benched too often or doesn't feel he's paid enough, it will affect his performance, prompting you to correct the problem or trade the player. Like the Cabbage Patch Doll that actually wets itself, sports sims are now celebrated when they incorporate characteristics we'd rather the real player not have. And with a new title in the franchise released annually, the realism is constantly being tweaked.

"It's a whole new game this year," Ross says. "It's all about defense, which adds an additional challenge. We won't be seeing as many high-scoring games."

As indicated by the slogan on the Madden Challenge's game kiosks—"Unleash the D"—all the major changes in Madden NFL 2005 have to do with defense. Pre-snap assignments can now be switched on the fly. The most important addition, though, is the new hit stick. A well-chosen flick of the right analog stick can lead to a concussion-causing collision—but tap it a moment too soon, and you'll only tackle turf.

"It allows you to create havoc on defense if you know how to use it," Mad Dog says.

Unfortunately for Mad Dog, Big Gene happens to be a master of the hit stick. He has a whopping lead going into the second half, and while he remains generally expressionless, he's taken to subtly dancing to the background rap music between plays. Ten minutes later, the final score is 34-3, and Big Gene is one step closer to victory—a victory he narrowly missed in last year's Madden finals, when he lost the very last game to David "Sandman" Seitchick, of Margate, New Jersey.

In round two, the 16 players eliminated from round one huddle around Sandman. One such player is David "One9" Stepney, of Pomona, California.

"I've been playing Madden for six years," One9 says, "but I've only been at this level for, like, nine months." While working primarily as a bill collector, he's been supplementing his income with winnings from Madden competitions. "I practice about six hours a day. I won about three major tournaments before, but it's my first time doing the EA Challenge."

In recent years, underground Madden tournaments with cash prizes have been growing more common. "We don't support that," Ross says. "We know it exists, but it goes against NFL requirements because it is a licensed product. The Madden Challenge is the only officially licensed competition for the game."

This isn't the first time a video game has taken on a life of its own, beyond what the programmers and marketing departments intended. There have been times when massive multiplayer online role-playing games have been used independently for profit. Some gamers have spent years amassing property and developing their characters in games like EverQuest in order to sell their virtual items and identities to the highest bidder. This practice is very much frowned upon by game developers, who don't wish to be held liable if a computer glitch wipes out an expensive piece of real estate that never actually existed, except as pixels. But once it's been sold, even imaginary property has value. It's Cartesian philosophy enhanced by capitalism. More than "It exists because I think it does," "It exists because I think it costs something."

Similarly, if people can earn large sums of money for their virtual athleticism, doesn't that make their onscreen skills as legitimate as actual athleticism? How far could it go? Could there eventually be betting on Madden in a sports book? Could virtual athletes insure their thumbs for thousands? Could Madden champions one day sign endorsement deals with EA?

"I'm not putting my money on that yet," says Ross. "But they do get the bragging rights."

Speaking of bragging rights, as the emcee yells, "Upset! Upset!," word quickly spreads that the champion has fallen. In only the second round, Sandman loses by a single point to Kyle "The Remedy" Cooper, of Milford, Ohio.

Up against the champion slayer in round three is Clementon, New Jersey's Anthony "Young Nephew" Brinson. At 15, he's The Remedy's junior by nine years. But whatever intimidation he lacks in age, he makes up for with his entourage. A large group of Young Nephew's friends and family, led by a particularly vocal fan in a Randy Moss jersey, taunt The Remedy mercilessly. Their eyes are fixed on the screen as though it were the Super Bowl they were watching. And why not? Aside from the rhythmic swirling of texture maps that are supposed to be fans in the stands, the graphics are almost as good as a televised game.

The Remedy gets ready to make a field goal, and Young Nephew's clan begins screaming. But the distraction fails. "It was intense, but not really intimidating," The Remedy says, "because you kick field goals all year long. You're just not used to that volume, though I turn my game up pretty loud."

To set up the next play, the two competitors rapidly tap their buttons with the delicate precision of concert pianists. They know the menus and playbooks inside out—they move the game along faster than it goes in real life.

"You'd be amazed how knowledgeable these guys are," Ross says. "They really know both the game and the sport."

With a touchdown, Young Nephew ties the game. One of his supporters, overloading on excitement, walks away. "Oh my God, I can't watch this," he says. The placid observers of round one have been replaced by a smothering crowd, their necks craned to see the action.

Using expert timing on the hit stick, Young Nephew forces a fumble and regains control of the ball. The emcee screams into his microphone, "Somebody get me a medic!" Scoring one more touchdown, Young Nephew secures his lead, and the game is over.

After lunch, the final four are ready. The confidence Young Nephew gained from defeating the champion-beater is noticeably subdued when he finds himself up against Big Gene.

Big Gene maintains his stoic resolve, but both players have a more serious manner than earlier. As the match kicks off, both of the typically motionless players begin to shift their weight from one leg to the other.

At this stage, the crowd's murmurs more frequently mention the vast sum at stake, and it becomes crystal clear that right now, it's all about the money. With a series of pass interferences, Big Gene keeps Young Nephew from scoring and ends the first half with the daunting lead of 21-3.

Feeding off of his supporters and exploiting Big Gene's mounting errors, Young Nephew gradually narrows the margin to 28-20 by the fourth quarter. A crucial fumble almost turns the game in Young Nephew's favor, but Big Gene challenges the call to get it reversed and keeps the ball. After trading a field goal and a touchdown, the final score is Big Gene 31, Young Nephew 26.

Things turn ugly as Big Gene tackles his final obstacle, Antoin "Pretty Boy" Williams, of Houston. The trash talk begins instantly. "I feel like blowing somebody out!" Pretty Boy declares.

Like kids blaming faulty controllers every time the game doesn't go their way, the two trade excuses and accusations. While Big Gene pauses to reconfigure his controller after his kickoff lands out of bounds, Pretty Boy whines that the plasma TV has a slight delay that interferes with his ability to juke.

Following his first touchdown, the usually silent Big Gene turns to the audience and claims, "This is too easy." He brings the score up to 17-0 before Pretty Boy lands his first touchdown, at which point Big Gene complains that the crowd is coaching his opponent. After a warning from the emcee, competition resumes. By the second half, the score is 24-14.

An early touchdown by Pretty Boy in the third quarter causes all hell to break loose. Big Gene points out that Pretty Boy is using running back Michael Bennett as a wide receiver. While the game allows this kind of substitution, the Bennett player, with its better-than-average ability to catch and 99 rating for speed, provides an unrealistic advantage in that position. For more than 20 minutes, the EA judges debate whether this can be permitted.

This is one of the great debates among gamers, having to do with the very nature of modern video games. A game like Tetris is just a game, pure and simple. Any strategy is acceptable—since no one stacks odd geometric blocks in real life, the game can only be compared to itself. But a first-person shooter like GoldenEye, for example, is supposed to be more than a game. It's supposed to simulate reality. In GoldenEye's split-screen multiplayer, you simulate being locked in mortal combat with an opponent in an enclosed space. You stalk one another, never sure where your adversary is ... unless, of course, you glance down and spot a familiar landmark on his screen. In the situation the game's attempting to portray, you could not do such a thing, but since the limited mechanics of the game allow you to, and allow your opponent to, is it unfair? It depends on whether you wish to see it merely as a game, or as a kind of reality.

Given how sports games strive for realism, it's no surprise the EA judges opt for reality, despite objections from Pretty Boy, who claims he was given permission for the substitution in an earlier game. Pretty Boy's most recent touchdown is removed.

When the game finally carries on, Pretty Boy again scores the touchdown under the new conditions, prompting him to repeatedly yell, "I can score anyway!" But it isn't enough. Pretty Boy fails to catch up, and the game ends 37-27.

With that, Big Gene becomes the third Madden champion and the owner of an oversized Visa card worth $50,000. Pretty Boy, on the other hand, gets the $100 Visa consolation prize along with the rest of the finalists. He's not pleased.

"That was not fair," he insists. "I was following the rules that I asked about in my first game. I asked: Can I put Michael Bennett as my fifth receiver? And they said: Yes, I can. So I got penalized for doing something they told me I could do. If the game allows it, you can't take any rules away from the game. Madden this year is different from last year. You can put offense on defense. Players can play wherever you want them."

Alison Ross stands by the judges' decision. "In the rules, it was an inappropriate substitution. There was a glitch they were playing off of."

"The game's fine the way it is," says Pretty Boy. "They should just change the ruling in the EA tournament."

"I think it's messed up for him," Big Gene sympathizes, "but you got to play by the rules. I don't think Madden, honestly, can make a perfect game. They'll try their best to make rules, and we'll try our best to follow them."

Ross is more optimistic. "It just pushes us to continue to enhance the program."

And improvement tends to happen year after year. The problem posed by GoldenEye's split-screen multiplayer has since been solved in similar games like Halo 2, where thanks to LAN cables or Xbox Live, multiplayer can take place on separate screens. And with the advent of new games like Dance Dance Revolution, Donkey Konga, Karaoke Revolution and new hardware like the EyeToy and the touch screen-bearing Nintendo DS, there are more ways to simulate the reality that games are so desperately trying to achieve.

As for the next step in the Madden franchise, Ross says, "You'll probably see more online tournaments and potential different divisions. I don't want to give too much away, but it's always changing. We'll probably see a lot more female players and younger players in the future."

The next Madden NFL will doubtless take us closer to the real football experience than ever before, offering even better bragging rights. In the end, isn't that what it's all about?