The whiplash of covering Summer Game Fest 2025 in LA

The Verge

18-06-2025

I love going to Summer Game Fest. It's a rare opportunity to connect with my colleagues and friends in person, as well as listen to developers talk about why they make their games. In some ways, this year's SGF gave me everything I love about the event. But while I was comfortably ensconced in a happy bubble, the escalating conflict between demonstrators protesting against immigration raids and the Los Angeles Police Department cast a dark and soul-shaking pall that could not be ignored.
Everything started on June 6th, when it was reported that US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) had conducted a raid in LA's fashion district, the same area where most of SGF was being held. I wasn't around to experience that because I was at the YouTube Theater in Inglewood, California, watching Geoff Keighley announce a Game of Thrones RTS and a Wu-Tang game. But when Ian Proulx, Splitgate 2 creator and CEO of 1047 Games, came out with his now-infamous 'Make FPS Great Again' hat, it punctured the illusion of distance in time, space, and tone.
In the months since President Donald Trump took office, ICE has ramped up its activities, sending agents to snatch parents from their children and children from their schools, enabled under the auspices that removing immigrants will be what makes America great again. Proulx's hat became the story of the day, if not the whole event. It was the main topic of conversation at the lobby bar of the JW Marriott hotel, where each night of SGF is capped off with a mixer. How could someone choose to reference such a statement, even in jest or irony, as the very people that slogan has been used to target are being snatched up mere blocks away?
Saturday was business as usual. Proulx's hat was forgotten as I settled in to work, flitting between wall-to-wall appointments checking out Escape Academy 2, the new Lego Party game, and Deadpool VR with no time to chat or even eat. I didn't check my phone for hours, and every TV was playing a video game. I had no idea what was happening both in Los Angeles and in the White House. But when there was finally a lull, I popped online, where I was greeted with a deluge of messages from people who were watching the news, telling me that something (a nebulous, undefined, but nevertheless urgent something) was happening and that I needed to get back to the safety of my hotel.
Thankfully, my worst fears about martial law declarations and curfews didn't come to pass while I was there, but they did after I was back home. People had taken to the streets of LA in protest of ICE action and began moving through parts of the city, demonstrating and occasionally clashing with the police (and autonomous vehicles). But at that moment, when I was hearing that insurrection acts were going to be invoked and that the National Guard was being mobilized to sweep the city, I became legitimately scared — particularly for attendees who weren't citizens and those with immigrant families.
How could someone choose to reference such a statement, even in jest or irony?
One such colleague, Janet Garcia, wrote an incredible account of what it was like working SGF and being the child of a Mexican immigrant. Her words right now are more important than mine. SGF also coincided with the BET Awards, and honoree Doechii also had a powerful message for the moment.
There had already been several stories of international travelers being detained in the US for weeks, and I was scared that if something was happening, my journalist friends from Canada, the UK, and elsewhere could get caught in the mix. Word began spreading that something (again, what that was, nobody could say, and that uncertainty compounded the fear) was happening, and my friends and I all began to start asking aloud: do we need to leave? Some said yes, and I was ready to do just that, but something stopped me.
I will never be able to adequately express how weird my job is in situations like this. It's really hard to write about the colorful pixels on a TV when it feels like the world is seconds away from catching fire. And yet I do it every day. Right when I was about to make the decision to leave early, a Capcom PR rep tapped me on the shoulder. I was late to my Resident Evil Requiem appointment. And I went, because in that scary moment I still thought, 'I have a job to do.'
I did my best with Requiem, plodding along the abandoned hospital, being suitably impressed by how the sound of Grace's footsteps changed when she walked on the wooden floor vs. the floor covered in bits of broken drywall. But my phone kept buzzing with notifications throughout it all. Midway through the demo, my stress was so high from the ambient spookiness of the game and all the happenings outside the SGF bubble that I couldn't take it anymore. I made my profuse apologies to my PR contact (who was exceedingly gracious and understanding) and left.
The mood that night at the hotel was less exuberant. It wasn't just everything going on in LA: the mood of the event itself was the lowest I'd ever seen it in the handful of years that SGF has served as E3's smaller, vibe-ier replacement. There were games there, good ones, but nothing big enough to anchor the show. As the industry faces its third straight year of rampant layoffs, cancellations, delays, and studio closures we're finally starting to see the pipeline of blockbuster games dry up. This was a stark contrast to last year when Sega had Metaphor: ReFantanzio and Shadow Generations, Bandai Namco showed off Shadow of the Erdtree, PlayStation was there with Astro Bot, and Xbox had just announced Gears of War: E-Day.
I'm home now. And despite this year's strangeness, I look forward to going back to Summer Game Fest. Because if video games have taught me anything over the years, it's that in the face of overwhelming odds, the best thing one can do is stick together with your friends.