SOML: Ronaldo V-Football
Back in 1999, after a few years spent writing about PlayStation and Nintendo 64 games for the now defunct Rapide Publishing, I accepted a games editor position on Future Publishing’s Official UK PlayStation Magazine (OPM). It wasn’t the position or magazine that I had originally traveled to Bath to interview for, but given OPM’s unprecedented success at that time, as well as my obsession with collecting every issue and jewel-casing every demo disc since day one, it was definitely dream job territory.
As the magazine’s games editor I was primarily responsible for writing and managing other writers’ contributions to the preview and review sections. Back then most preview content was based on time spent with unfinished builds of games that would show up in the mail, but every now and then the only way to get timely preview coverage of a game was to attend some sort of press trip organized by its publisher. One such event that I attended for OPM was a visit to PAM Development in Paris for an early look at the PlayStation version of Ronaldo V-Football.
The trip was organized by a couple of PR guys from publisher Infogrames, who accompanied me and two or three other games journalists for the duration of our short stay in France’s capital. I believe I flew into Paris and went straight from the airport to the studio to spend an hour or two playing the game and chatting with members of the dev team. Truth be told, I don’t remember much about Ronaldo V-Football, about checking into a hotel, nor about what was almost certainly a fancy-by-my-standards dinner that night. What happened after dinner though will forever be etched into my brain alongside such unforgettables as my first kiss, my first trip to Tokyo Game Show, and that time I sat ringside in the rain to watch what ended up being a 38-second Tyson fight courtesy of Codemasters.
That evening the Infogrames PR guys, who had undoubtedly visited Paris before, decided to flex their expense accounts not with a trip to the Eiffel Tower or a cruise along the Seine but with tickets to a live sex show in a seedy little theater. I distinctly remember that the hard-looking monsieur taking money at the door was wearing Doc Marten boots and had a large German Shepherd at his side, which didn’t exactly inspire confidence in the caliber of the establishment or of its usual clientele.
Upon entering the dimly lit theater the two PR guys encouraged me and one of the other journalists, let’s call him Brian, to sit right at the front before gleefully abandoning us to take seats near the back. The two of us were only a few feet away from the action as a couple of women set about pleasuring each other onstage. So far so good I guess, but I wondered what on earth they were planning to do next when one of them came down into the audience and laid a sheet across mine and Brian’s laps.
Moments later, she was fully naked and laid across our laps. Brian to my left was getting an eyeful of her ample chest, while I was staring down into the depths of her navel and wondering where the safest place was to put my hands. Her partner had exited stage left by the time I looked up, so I really wasn’t sure what to expect next.
Enter the looking-hard enthusiast from the door who, in a Shyamalan-esque plot twist, was now wearing nothing but his Doc Martens and a rubber. Looking hard in an unsettling new way, he wasted no time putting his baguette to work while his partner, still laid across our laps, feigned enjoyment far more convincingly than I was able to at that moment. The trio of Frenchmen sat immediately behind me, on the other hand, were leaning forward for a better view and appeared to be having the times of their lives. Perhaps they were wishing they could swap seats with me just as I was wishing I could swap seats with them.
I don’t recall exactly how the show ended, nor do I want to think too much about it, but I do remember that on the way back to our hotel the Infogrames PR guys took us into a pornography store and offered to buy us magazines and such. An offer I was quick to decline and which I don’t think any of the other attendees accepted either.
Press trips that took unexpected turns weren’t that unusual back then. Some of them I only know about from former colleagues, but I attended plenty that were just as weird as my visit to PAM Development that I’ll get around to memorializing here at some point.
