In mere days, the ESA will host the 18th annual Electronic Entertainment Expo in Los Angeles, a multimillion-dollar event that serves as a soapbox for industry leaders, game developers and peripheral manufacturers as well as a focal point for video game enthusiasts. The show is a driving force for the industry, dictating Christmas lists in early June and establishing what products will live, die and fade from the public mind. Retailers eye consumer reactions to help them finalize their holiday orders and fans devour coverage of the event as if it was manna from heaven. Since the show's 1995 launch, video games have grown from a niche category to a central facet of modern entertainment -- finding their own place in the music industry, our national museums and even organizations like the Boy Scouts of America. No other event celebrates and glorifies the industry so thoroughly.
Yes, it's a trade show at heart -- as well as the industry's best hype machine -- but it's also a very prominent part of gaming fandom. Following the news, scrutinizing announcements and arguing over who "won" the show is almost an annual tradition. Amid all of the event's excitement, it's easy to forget its strange origins. The industry's biggest spectacle wasn't born from a rational need to create a unifying trade show, but instead from a federally imposed stalemate in the console wars of the 1990s.