The things we do to get you swag: Bourne Conspiracy strings us along
"Are you Mr. Stern, by chance?" A built man in a black suit asked, standing in front of a black Cadillac. His black sunglasses evenly split M.I.B. and The Matrix.
I'd just stumbled into the daylight after an afternoon meeting near San Francisco's Union Square. I'd been standing on the sidewalk for a moment, shifting my attention between my notebook, phone, and this man. I'd stolen glances like I was meeting a blind date, wondering if this was my contact but not quite approaching him
I confirmed my identity, and he motioned me over to the sedan. "I'll be taking you to the drop zone," he said and then was silent.
A few weeks earlier, FedEx dropped off an unmarked, prepaid mobile phone. The carbon-copy shipping slip gave no origin address or FedEx account number. I called the delivery company and asked for more details, and all they could dig up was the location the phone was picked up. Some place called "Vivendi University" according to the agent. And so the marketing stunt began.
I slid into the back seat, and my driver, now identified as Julius, pulled onto Geary. The leather interior swaddled me and smelled like it was just days old. He made a brief call, saying little more than, "pickup confirmed" before resuming the silence.
The prepaid phone had been blinking with text messages over the prior weeks. Initially terse notes arrived about the driver and pickup location, calling me "agent." One message urged me to buy a Rolex, and another suggested I "become one of well-hung mates!" I don't think Vivendi or its University sent those, but I was prepared just in case.
In the car, I used my own phone to call my editor, Chris. We talk about the prior meeting, and I let him know I was on my way to the next, mysterious event. "I'm surprised they didn't put a bag over your head," he heckled.
I relayed the message to Julius, asking if the bag was coming. He chuckled, "Possibly."
We ambled through the city, often in straight lines, but occasionally turning around and backtracking a few blocks. The first time we made one of those loops, I asked, "Did you miss the turn, or was that part of the excitement?"
"Possibly," he said.
We drove down Van Ness, to Bay Street, through the Marina district, and even made a U-turn in a locally famous Safeway. We finally pulled into Fort Mason across the street, stopping at the former military installation's back corner.
Julius got out, opened my door, and told me in his always-even cadence, "The drop site is in the Firehouse. Please return when you've secured the package."
I stepped back into the sunlight. Alcatraz was directly to my left, and the Firehouse was straight ahead. I shot a few photos and saw a conspicuous metal case lamely lying ahead.
Before I moved to it, the white end of a professional Canon zoom lens peered at me from around the building. Finally, some action. The case wasn't going anywhere, so I walked at the photographer.
"Hello?" I asked. "Do you have a case for me?"
The photographer and her helper initially froze, then turned away from me and walked away. They moved with only their legs, their backs frozen at me. If they ran, they were guilty. If they didn't look at me, maybe I'd go away. I trotted in to close the gap.
Still without looking, one pleaded, "Agent, you were given specific instructions. If they see us talking, they'll kill me." Fine. I left them alone, walked by a jumbled cache of other cases, and retrieved the first.
The light, silver briefcase was marked, "Intec." Inside, I found only a postcard with a picture of Coit Tower. Julius and I drove off in that direction until he got a phone call.
"Hello. Yes. ... Yes. ... Understood." He hung up. He wouldn't tell me where we were headed but that we had new orders. Again, we wandered through the city, near where we'd come from, along The Embarcadero, past the Ferry building and piers, under the Bay Bridge, and along PacBell AT&T Park.
Then 3rd Street, Mission Bay, the Dogpatch, and Bayview. We were lost for real this time. He made a call, turned around again, and finally arrived at a warehouse building in the Dogpatch.
My contact from Sierra, Tom Stratton introduced himself, leading me through the loading area and freight elevator. We walked long, dark hallways, past assorted barrels and shipping palettes until finally reaching the demo of The Bourne Conspiracy.
The game looks [REDACTED] with all sorts of [REDACTED] action and [REDACTED] moments. You play as [REDACTED], a [REDACTED], who is trying to [REDACTED], with all kinds of [REDACTED] trying to stop him*.
When my adventure ended, I walked off with the case, only this time it was slightly heavier that before. Alongside a dossier and telephoto shots of myself, I found Bourne schwag:
*My full impressions are coming as soon as my clearance is authorized.
I'd just stumbled into the daylight after an afternoon meeting near San Francisco's Union Square. I'd been standing on the sidewalk for a moment, shifting my attention between my notebook, phone, and this man. I'd stolen glances like I was meeting a blind date, wondering if this was my contact but not quite approaching him
I confirmed my identity, and he motioned me over to the sedan. "I'll be taking you to the drop zone," he said and then was silent.
A few weeks earlier, FedEx dropped off an unmarked, prepaid mobile phone. The carbon-copy shipping slip gave no origin address or FedEx account number. I called the delivery company and asked for more details, and all they could dig up was the location the phone was picked up. Some place called "Vivendi University" according to the agent. And so the marketing stunt began.
Gallery: The Bourne Conspiracy Event
I slid into the back seat, and my driver, now identified as Julius, pulled onto Geary. The leather interior swaddled me and smelled like it was just days old. He made a brief call, saying little more than, "pickup confirmed" before resuming the silence.
The prepaid phone had been blinking with text messages over the prior weeks. Initially terse notes arrived about the driver and pickup location, calling me "agent." One message urged me to buy a Rolex, and another suggested I "become one of well-hung mates!" I don't think Vivendi or its University sent those, but I was prepared just in case.
In the car, I used my own phone to call my editor, Chris. We talk about the prior meeting, and I let him know I was on my way to the next, mysterious event. "I'm surprised they didn't put a bag over your head," he heckled.
I relayed the message to Julius, asking if the bag was coming. He chuckled, "Possibly."
We ambled through the city, often in straight lines, but occasionally turning around and backtracking a few blocks. The first time we made one of those loops, I asked, "Did you miss the turn, or was that part of the excitement?"
"Possibly," he said.
We drove down Van Ness, to Bay Street, through the Marina district, and even made a U-turn in a locally famous Safeway. We finally pulled into Fort Mason across the street, stopping at the former military installation's back corner.
Julius got out, opened my door, and told me in his always-even cadence, "The drop site is in the Firehouse. Please return when you've secured the package."
I stepped back into the sunlight. Alcatraz was directly to my left, and the Firehouse was straight ahead. I shot a few photos and saw a conspicuous metal case lamely lying ahead.
Before I moved to it, the white end of a professional Canon zoom lens peered at me from around the building. Finally, some action. The case wasn't going anywhere, so I walked at the photographer.
"Hello?" I asked. "Do you have a case for me?"
The photographer and her helper initially froze, then turned away from me and walked away. They moved with only their legs, their backs frozen at me. If they ran, they were guilty. If they didn't look at me, maybe I'd go away. I trotted in to close the gap.
Still without looking, one pleaded, "Agent, you were given specific instructions. If they see us talking, they'll kill me." Fine. I left them alone, walked by a jumbled cache of other cases, and retrieved the first.
The light, silver briefcase was marked, "Intec." Inside, I found only a postcard with a picture of Coit Tower. Julius and I drove off in that direction until he got a phone call.
"Hello. Yes. ... Yes. ... Understood." He hung up. He wouldn't tell me where we were headed but that we had new orders. Again, we wandered through the city, near where we'd come from, along The Embarcadero, past the Ferry building and piers, under the Bay Bridge, and along PacBell AT&T Park.
Then 3rd Street, Mission Bay, the Dogpatch, and Bayview. We were lost for real this time. He made a call, turned around again, and finally arrived at a warehouse building in the Dogpatch.
My contact from Sierra, Tom Stratton introduced himself, leading me through the loading area and freight elevator. We walked long, dark hallways, past assorted barrels and shipping palettes until finally reaching the demo of The Bourne Conspiracy.
The game looks [REDACTED] with all sorts of [REDACTED] action and [REDACTED] moments. You play as [REDACTED], a [REDACTED], who is trying to [REDACTED], with all kinds of [REDACTED] trying to stop him*.
When my adventure ended, I walked off with the case, only this time it was slightly heavier that before. Alongside a dossier and telephoto shots of myself, I found Bourne schwag:- A courier bag with Bourne branding
- A Bourne-branded wrist strap that turns into a 2GB USB disk
- An Olympus VN-4100PC voice recorder with Bourne branding
- A Maglite flashlight with Bourne branding
- A Sony NWX-B105F Digital Music Player with two versions of a Gnarls Barkley track
*My full impressions are coming as soon as my clearance is authorized.












Reader Comments (Page 1 of 1)
SilverChaos @ Apr 13th 2008 6:45PM
Hm, so Kotaku wasn't the only site that had this happen...
An awesome marketing stunt, though.
rv @ Apr 13th 2008 10:56PM
Ya, that is pretty sweet. Liked the description too.
Hashbrown Hunter @ Apr 14th 2008 8:43AM
Dammit! They're swooning me!
David @ Apr 13th 2008 6:46PM
I also saw this on Kotaku.
I would have shit my pants if this ever happened to me.
Both in fear and in excitement.
Deck @ Apr 13th 2008 6:51PM
Wow... crazy!
Really cool though!
m @ Apr 13th 2008 6:59PM
If this happened to me, I would've run the guy over with my PWNTiac and ask him who he was working for.
ApolloIV @ Apr 13th 2008 7:01PM
The last time this happened to me, it was a trap...
Yuccadude @ Apr 13th 2008 7:27PM
"I don't think Vivendi or its University sent those, but I was prepared just in case."
Hilarious, nice work Mr. Stern.
nxtiak @ Apr 13th 2008 10:05PM
hahaha, Hilarious that you went up to the photographer!
343 Guilty Fart @ Apr 14th 2008 1:56PM
Seriously, way to fuck with viral marketing.
idiot @ Apr 13th 2008 10:20PM
this happened to some editor on IGN too
VerasGunn @ Apr 13th 2008 10:57PM
Gnarls Barkley? What tracks? I know it's a strange question to ask, but I just fucking love Gnarls Barkley.
Still, sounded amazingly awesome.
Parsnipzilla @ Apr 14th 2008 12:16AM
They'll be off the new album, it came out like, the other day
And yes, I TOO love Gnarls Barkley :D
Hashbrown Hunter @ Apr 14th 2008 9:04AM
Actually, I remember reading an IGN interview with Paul Oakenfold that said the Gnarls Barkley track is exclusive to the game.
VerasGunn @ Apr 15th 2008 3:56AM
Actually Odd Couple came out a few weeks ago, but chances are, by the way he worded it, it would likely be remixes of some songs, not two of the new songs from the game.
But Paul Oakenfold remixing it? Meh. I'd rather Danger Mouse remix it himself. I don't care for Paul Oakenfold.
hvnlysoldr @ Apr 14th 2008 12:55AM
I know you marked the mysterious photographer and case. But we're all dying to know if the boat was mysterious. You know the boat we can ... what where's the boat?
3ther @ Apr 14th 2008 12:56AM
Zack, who makes that black windbreaker jacket you have on, and where did you buy it?
thanks
Zack Stern @ Apr 14th 2008 1:31AM
Hi 3ther. Do you mean the jacket Tom has on, standing on the stairs? Using the awesome powers of zoom on the original file, that little yellow logo says "G-Star Originals RAW." Hope that helps.
3ther @ Apr 14th 2008 3:35AM
thanks Zack, yes it was that jacket tom had one. Thanks, your info helped a lot.
samfish @ Apr 14th 2008 12:57AM
This happened to me once, except it ended with me being tied up in a field and being gang raped by overweight hillbillies.
Isak? @ Apr 14th 2008 1:05AM
This is genius. Althogh part of me wants to know what it would've been like if Mega64 had created the marketing. I'm all about bombs in hotel rooms.
SephFinale @ Apr 14th 2008 1:26AM
What would it take Kojima to do something similar to this?
MSUHitman @ Apr 16th 2008 4:37PM
IGN was a part of this also. One of their PS3 editors went to the event. He talks about it and gaming marketing in general on last week's IGN PS3 podcast, Podcast Beyond.
Courtney @ Apr 14th 2008 2:41PM
Okay, maybe my life of constant thrilling excitement has inured me to such things, but this actually seemed kind of lame from a publicity stunt standpoint, just driving around SanFran for a couple of hours to play a demo and pick up some swag? Really? No fake hassles or chase scenes, nothing to shake it up some. I'm a bit disappointed.
alberthegreat @ Apr 14th 2008 7:31PM
lol, that was certainly very interesting :)
i never knew you all went though so many suspicious people to get the swag o_o;