GamingThe strange sadness of Geoff Keighley giving away his own face

Every year, Geoff Keighley is drawn to our world like a great extradimensional lamprey, lured in from the outer dark by the scent of fresh games. From the moment he shimmers into reality, deep within a black ziggurat under the city of Los Angeles, he cares for only two things: Summer, and Games (and invariably in the winter, Awards). Thus transfixed, he works without pause, hoarding more and more trailers as the Earth hurtles towards perihelion with the sun.

This year's Summer Game Fest had a strangely messianic tone. In reality, the Fest is a pretty simple marketing instrument, a two hour ad break, if you will. But from Geoff's heart-deep thanks to all the companies without whom it could not have happened, you'd be forgiven for thinking it was a charity gig. I have nothing against Geoff Keighley. He seems to be a very hard-working, affable fellow, who merely wants to nurture his strange and ever-swelling son, Gamesummer.

Geoff Keighley the brand, however, is weird.

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