by Sarah McKeever
I'll go ahead and say it, get it over with:
I'm not a Star Wars fan.
That's right. Do not adjust your monitors. To clarify, I don't like Star Wars. I'd much rather watch, say, Indiana Jones movies.
I also work at a video game store, and the people who I work with don't understand how I can work on a LucasArts fan site and not like Star Wars. I don't really blame them either, because that's all that LucasArts produces. Anything else, let's face it, isn't particularly noteworthy. (Escape from Monkey Island, anyone?) For as long as I've worked at GameStop, I've never seen one person even take EMI off the shelf and look at it, much less buy it. It's not the death of the genre, either. I've seen The Longest Journey leave our shelves many times.
This insight into the world outside the LEC fan community makes me sad and confused. (The LEC fan community, incidentally, is comprised wholly of people who share a common love for the old games. I challenge you to find someone who is a huge Galactic Battlegrounds or Rogue Leader fan, but is indifferent about Star Wars.) How exactly did LucasArts go about losing most of its best employees? You know, those witty programmers who originally wrote all that great dialogue, the amazing artists who actually cared about the quality and atmosphere of the games?
I'm embarrassed to mention Monkey Island too often in an environment where nobody remembers the originals, nor Curse of Monkey Island, nor Grim Fandango. Currently, the only game that we sell that I really enjoyed is The Longest Journey.
My coworkers don't have a clue why I get a little bit excited about LucasArts games and promos that come into the store. It's only because it's LucasArts, who used to make games that I liked. But everyone I work with knows that LucasArts doesn't produce quality, enjoyable games for non-Star Wars fans, so I get made fun of for liking LucasArts but not Star Wars. Frankly, I don't blame them.