Intern for a Day, Vol. 1: Harmonix Music Systems
"Can I get you a refill for your Goblet of Rock, Ms. McWilliams?"
8/8/2008 6:32 PM | 8 Comments | Page 5 of 7
Scott Jones
Status: Coffee makes me feel 4-percent sexier.
The Laser: Even looking at this photo is probably giving you cancer right now.
1:29 p.m. Back at the office, Helen and I discuss the strange laser gun that is positioned in the window next to her desk, above a row of crooked little cacti. It has huge cables coming out of it, and LED numbers that constantly flash on the back of it. Helen explains that this laser wirelessly keeps the new office connected with their old office across the street. I peer out the window. There, in an upper level window in the building across the street is a tiny square where the other laser is positioned. I imagine all the code for Rock Band and Rock Band 2, all those colored notes, flying invisibly above Prospect Street between the two buildings.
"I think that thing is giving me cancer," Helen says.
1:48 p.m. Helen has assigned me the task of writing about a week's worth of "Message of the Day" updates for the Rock Band server. These typically consist of game advice, rock trivia and insider-like tips on band life. I check and see whose birthdays are coming up later this month. Kenny Rogers, I decide, isn't exactly worthy of a "Message of the Day" shout-out.
Instead I write: "Remember: There is nothing funnier than a smoking monkey. Keep a photograph of a smoking monkey in your wallet. Whenever you are feeling low after a gig, look at it, and you will feel better."
And I write: "If someone throws underwear on the stage, it's OK to feel flattered. But it's never OK to take said underwear home."
Helen seems to like them well enough, but they still need to go through their legal department before getting officially joining the Message of the Day queue.
2:18 p.m. Helen and I get called into a small meeting where we discuss TOTALLY TOP SECRET STUFF. Seriously, if I write about it, Helen will come to my house and kill me and my whole family. Which really only consists of two fairly well-behaved cats, so it wouldn't exactly be the tragedy that it could be, you see.
This particular hallway felt chilly. Probably because it's still haunted by the ghost of
Guitar Hero Rocks the 80s.
3:45 p.m. Helen drops me off in QA for awhile and lets me bug test a couple of DLC songs. I take the guitar and put on the headphones. Not wanting to fail in front of bona fide Harmonix employees, I set the difficulty to Medium and start to shred. I'm playing pretty well, earning five stars ON A DLC SONG THAT I CAN'T WRITE ABOUT FOR FEAR OF BEING HARMED BY HELEN. (You'll hear about it in a couple of weeks. Trust me, it'll make you happy.)
I finish, without finding any bugs, and having five-starred the song. I'm waiting for the other QA testers to notice my accomplishment. Unbeknownst to me, a guy who's sitting adjacent to me has been watching the entire time. He says, "Dude, you seriously could not have looked more miserable playing that song."
