Belching, huffing and heaving, an 18-wheel UPS truck pulls up at the rear-end of a gray concrete, out-of-town warehouse. The driver steps into dizzying 100 degree heat as, noisily, the warehouse’s corrugated door rolls open. Forklifts glide into action, unloading pallet upon pallet, stacking them inside a massive loading area in the shade of the warehouse’s docking bay.
Stacks of identical brown cardboard boxes totter on the pallets, each crammed with used video games, used games consoles and used cell phones. Men with clipboards scurry about checking dockets and making notes.
This is GameStop’s used-game reprocessing plant, situated on the outskirts of Dallas, Texas. Up to seven of these trucks will roll in every single day, depositing the games and the gear that you take into GameStop stores in exchange for cash or credits.
Around 80 percent of games traded in stores are resold in the same store. But 20 percent are sent to this Texas facility for refurbishment, usually because they are looking somewhat tattered. For personal information security reasons, 100 percent of all consoles, cell-phones and other devices come to be cleaned up and sent back out. Some 17 million games and one million hardware units pass through this plant every year.
The disks are inspected by hand. Those that still show scratches are tossed into a terrifically noisy machine that breaks them up into tiny pieces, depositing the shards into a huge box that will later be taken away by a specialist recycling company.
This is a factory. It smells and sounds like a factory. Mercifully, there is air-conditioning. There is a sign on the wall. It says ‘Safety is no GAME. STOP and think.’ Clever, no?
Some of the games are taken away at random and run through banks of test consoles stacked upon racks, to make sure the process is working, that the disks are going to load and play when they find their way to your games machine.
The rest are sorted into bundles according to the game title and platform, thousands of individual product identification ‘SKUs’ (Stock Keeping Unit) sometimes going back to the 1990s. There is a large machine, as big as a row of terraced houses, that sorts the games. It looks like one of those glass-fronted, self-service cafeteria deals that you see in old movies with Doris Day and Peter Lawford. What the hell are those things called? Ah, automats.
Once ready for market the used games are sent back to retail outlets, according to algorithms based on buying patterns. More shooting games are sent to stores near military bases. More hockey games are sent north.
This is traditionally a secretive company that rarely does any kind of media, let alone guided walk-abouts of facilities. It feels slightly odd to be here, as if this were a tour of some North Korean ‘milk formula’ factory. But instead of gargoyle stiffs in olive-green tunics and peaked caps, the friendly guides are wearing short-sleeve shirts made by Polo and offering up beefy Texan hospitality by the slab.
Everything that comes through those doors is currency, loot, scratch, gravy; lovely, lovely moolah.
GameStop’s bosses are obviously tired of hearing about how used games are killing gaming, about how unfair they are on the producers of the games who get nothing from their resale.
One astonishing stat is repeated by three different managers during presentations. 70 percent of income consumers make from trading games goes straight back into buying brand new games. GameStop argues that used games are an essential currency in supporting the games business.
The normal behavior is for guys to come into stores with their plastic bags full of old games, and trade them so that they can buy the new Call of Duty, Madden, Gears of War. GameStop says 17 percent of its sales are paid in trade credits. The implication is clear - if the games industry lost 17 percent of its sales tomorrow, that would be a bad day for the publishers and developers.
GameStop’s reprocessing facility isn’t just a factory, it’s a mint. Everything that comes through those doors is currency, loot, scratch, gravy; lovely, lovely moolah.
Security is key here. Not just the suspicious-boss kind that prevents anyone from pocketing a couple of iPhones. But the kind that makes sure your gamer-tag records or your credit card details or your girlfriend’s phone number are wiped clean, before the machine is polished and dabbed with Q-tips and sent back out into the world.
GameStop believes there are billions of dollars worth of consoles, iPods and games just sitting in people’s homes, unused and unloved, that could be traded. The company is aching for people to bring their old crap in and turn it into money to spend on new games. They see that this stuff is just as good as greenbacks.
It’s interesting, isn’t it, that in this age of alternative currencies like Diablo III’s Auction House and Xbox Live points that old games, old consoles, old cell-phones are also cash, but somehow less sexily so, less brave new world of commerce and more Sandford and Son.
This opens up the bigger question about this currency, which is, who controls the value of the trade-ins? Many consumers feel a stab of outrage at the value of their trade-ins when compared with the cost of the games when they are resold.
He says, “We know that people don't like selling their games if they think they're getting ripped off. So we spend a lot of time talking to consumers about that. We also spend a lot of time looking at the competition. There's lots of people in buy-sell-trade now, and we think we're pretty competitive with those guys. We have to figure out a way that we can continue to grow the business, keep this operation running, improve the quality.”
GameStop does have a lot of power over the value of your game. Probably, because of its prominence in thousands of malls and retail-strips around the country. But we live in a free market and there are alternatives out there, including online. Shopping around is always a smart way to get the most value out of your money and out of your old games.
Meanwhile, the trucks keep rolling up to the warehouse gates, disgorging yet more of those games, making them ready for people like you and me. We will happily thumb through the used games racks, will find that game some other person grew tired of playing, and we will add it to our own collection. At least until we decide to trade it in.
Colin Campbell is a British-born, Santa-Cruz based games journalist, working for IGN. You can contact me via Twitter or IGN.
Source : feeds[dot]ign[dot]com
No comments:
Post a Comment