![]() The game is a first-person shooter, the red meat genre familiar to anyone who's seen Call of Duty or Halo or Doom. To expedite his process, he uses guns and biological upgrades called plasmids to maim, burn, sting and eviscerate the dangerous locals that interfere. In BioShock the player embodies Jack, a voiceless, rugged man who uncovers the mysteries of an abandoned metropolis at the bottom of the ocean. ![]() The stunned designer was ushered off stage before he could give his speech. "I was Taylor Swift before Taylor Swift," Levine groans. Levine smiled into the camera and walked towards the podium to deliver his acceptance speech when, suddenly, a group of rowdy developers in capes and rooster masks Kanye Wested the moment and hijacked the stage to promote their new studio, Gamecock. The award winner was announced via the painted nude body of a model with BioShock printed across her buxom chest, two bubbles tastefully obscuring her nipples. In 2007, BioShock won Game of the Year at the Spike Video Game Awards. His job now is to meet the press, review marketing materials, respond to questions about what tiny things can and can't be cut or switched or polished, attend award shows - like the VGAs - and ultimately ship the game. As of Friday, November 30, he's officially stepped away from sculpting duties on BioShock Infinite. With a team ranging from 20 to 200, Levine has spent the last half decade chipping away at his latest opus. His index finger and thumb snap an invisible appendage. Sometimes large chunks of the game, Levine tells me, must be broken off like the arm of a statue to make way for a better product. The process is a creatively exhausting one. He and his team will just need to find it. Inside this clay, he says, will be a game. These many strange and precious things are then mentally pressed together - his hands pulverize one another - into a raw slab of inspirational clay. A lecture on gilded age objectivism, a non-fiction best seller about the Chicago World's Fair or an etching of an ancient torture device. ![]() Comic books, Wikipedia pages and bric-a-brac from tourist pit stops. He explains the following, using his hands to visualize his words.įirst, he says, his hands creating a box, he accumulates materials. He finishes chewing a mouthful of egg white and sets down his fork. "The way I create video games, it's more like sculpture," Levine says. Here, he asks me, under the sun, on top of a beautiful hotel, overlooking the sprawl of Los Angeles, just talking with someone about games and movies and stuff - who wouldn’t love this? On the rooftop patio, an hour passes before he places his order (the egg white omelette). Levine doesn’t particularly enjoy awards shows. They’ll ask about the game’s box art and marketing materials and protracted development cycle, and he’ll be on his best behavior. The oddball mix of journalists, enthusiasts, publicists and fans will want to know about his next big game, BioShock Infinite. Then he will be driven to the Sony Pictures lot for the Spike Video Game Awards show, where, on the red carpet, he will be treated with the respect and attention afforded a Kardashian. At the behest of his publicist, he will switch out of the comic book tee into something more formal. In a town where Kevin Federline gets two minutes on TMZ, Levine doesn’t get a second glance. Same goes for the lone slick-haired celebrity photographer stalking the patio, who creeps past us to get a close look at an orange-skinned teenager in a Bible paper tank top. I glean our waiter hasn't, as he affords Levine the indifferent California cool he’d show any other schmo. It’s possible you’ve heard of his most successful game, BioShock. The forty-something game designer is the video game equivalent of a Steven Spielberg or a James Cameron, an outspoken creator of colossal and expensive worlds fans love his characters so much they’ve had them tattooed across backs and arms and, yes, even a face or two. Unlike in movies, the most talented creators in video games are often unknown by their biggest fans. ![]() His retro X-Men T-shirt, which flatters his muscular frame, might give him away as a nerd if it weren’t 2012 - a time when form fitting comic book shirts are conventionally chic. He’s got a solid base tan and a fresh, prickly haircut. It’s a cool December morning and we’re seated on the rooftop of the plush Montage Hotel in Beverly Hills.
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