Pokemon Go Fest 2018 Will Fail Again

I went to Pokémon Get Fest, and it was a disaster

The inaugural festival turned into a costly mess for Niantic

By Jul 25, 2017, 11:37am EDT

With phones in hand, a herd of humans pummeled the damp grass of Chicago's Grant Park. Despite the inviting greenish scenery and thump of peppy music, their eyes remained glued to their screens, which dictated their every movement. "Unown!" someone yelled, and heads snapped upward. "Where?" yelled ane kid every bit he broke into a dart. A few others eagerly pursued.

In the early on hours of Pokémon Become Fest, which took place this past Sabbatum, this blithesome blitz repeated itself a half-dozen times. Pokémon fans came from across the US and beyond to celebrate the ceremony of Niantic'due south smashing success of a game, a global smartphone phenomenon that has drawn people of all ages, races, and genders together to bond over a common goal: collecting pokémon. At that place accept been hundreds of these unofficial gatherings in the form of bar crawls, meetups, and parties since the game'southward release, just Pokémon Go Fest was Niantic'southward biggest gamble — a sold-out, twenty-four hours-long official effect for upward to 20,000 people. Fans came expecting the chance to capture rare pokémon and participate in activities, culminating in a challenge that would unleash some of the series'due south legendary pokémon into the virtual wilds. But as connectivity issues and in-game crashes made Pokémon Go unplayable for attendees, the solar day spiraled into a large-scale echo of the game's primeval bug.

Pokémon Go Fest kicked off at 10AM, but fans began to arrive in the early on hours of the morning. Lines similar two twin snakes wrapped effectually either side of the park's entrance and trailed downwardly the cake. When the gates opened, the crowd stretched, yawned, and slowly trickled into the cordoned-off venue.

Within the park, the festival was extensive. Scattered across the lawn, notwithstanding muddy from downpour the night before, were physical towers designed to wait like pokéstops, in-game locations where players stock upwards on items. A collection of large monitors invited players to claw upward their phones and broadcast their gym battles, while others displayed electric current stats on battles or top players. On the north end of the park stood three tents — 1 red, i bluish, and 1 yellow — denoting the game'southward teams: Valor, Instinct, and Mystic. Within each tent were concessions, beanbags to bomb downward on, and, almost importantly, dozens of tables outfitted with charging stations for mobile phones. From these three tents, guests had a view of the chief stage, where the solar day's announcements took place. The stage's humongous speakers pumped the "uhn tiss uhn tiss" of generic techno into the growing crowds.

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Morning time

Jack Chasteen was one of the festival'south guests. An 18-year-sometime from the south suburbs of Chicago, he won his tickets through a raffle hosted at a local Dart store. He'd made a pact with the girl in line next to him: considering winners would receive two tickets, they vowed to share if either of them won. Her ticket was the lucky number. "We were both astonished and shaken," he said. "I was shaking like I won." He came solitary the first day, only spent his morning meeting new players. Despite experiencing some minor technical bug with the app, he was cheerful. "The game's a chip wobbly. You get logged off. But I beloved the game anyways."

Chasteen nostalgically compared the connectedness problems at Pokémon Go Fest to the early days of the game's release, when the servers regularly crashed under the massive load of new players. "It's kind of like a friendly reminder of how information technology used to be," he joked, "fifty-fifty though those weren't the best days."

Kevin Diangkinay, too, traveled to the festival alone. His friends couldn't get time off piece of work, only he wasn't concerned most flight solo. "With Pokémon Go, I feel a fiddling more connected," he said. "Anybody's hither for the same goal." Diangkinay said he snagged his ticket online when they first went on auction for $20, but he knows others who paid equally much equally $400 through scalpers. "I didn't want to say anything, but that'due south crazy. That's double my flight here."

Why would anybody pay a 2,000 pct markup? "The FOMO is real," said Diangkinay.

Three adult players saturday inside the Team Instinct tent. Ranging from ages 38 to 61, the group traveled from Canada to attend the festival. They've all been playing since the game's launch and were eager to get their hands on i of the legendary birds, mythical pokémon in the serial. "Zapdos would be cool," said Vicki Ghabban, every bit she gestured to the pokémon'due south insignia emblazoned on the Team Instinct table. But technical issues were becoming more common, and the odds that they'd catch their pokémon seemed to diminish past the moment.

Nearby, a player yelled "Heracross here!" and a minor group of runners apace gelled into a mob, rolling toward a single goal. There was a rhythm to their movements as they flocked past, backpacks bouncing. Merely when they reached the spot, they all made the same disappointed frown, as if cued past an invisible maestro.

"It's gone," said one woman in disappointment moments later.

"We missed information technology?" asked a guy wistfully.

Another shook his caput. "Damn, man."

A second chance came soon, as a Heracross spawned on the n end of the park. But every bit a grouping of players tried to grab it, their accounts began to crash, easily losing more than two dozens catches. Past the time the first claiming was almost to kickoff, just before 11AM, more players began having problems. Equally a perky onstage host talked almost the events to come, a woman standing in the oversupply with a stroller belted out "Set up the servers!" The dirge was contagious, and more than people joined in. As a promotional Pokémon Become video began to whorl, parts of the oversupply chanted in unison: "Fix the game."

When Niantic CEO John Hanke took the stage soon after, his welcome was a wave of boos. Hanke started his welcome oral communication, merely stopped after but a few words, briefly hesitating before he continued on to talk about the weather picking up predictions of rain. "I know some of you guys have had trouble getting logged on this morning," he said as the crowd continued to roar in acrimony. "I desire to allow you know we're working with the cell companies, AT&T, Sprint, Verizon, trying to get that worked out. We're working on the game server to get that worked out.

"And then I want to enquire you guys, delight know we've got the whole Niantic team working confronting this, and so please be patient with us, okay?" Hanke did his best to rally the crowd, calling out the families he'd seen at the issue. But the atmosphere remained tense. A man's vocalization boomed out above the remainder: "Ready the game!"

"We're working on that," Hanke replied. The CEO again tried to pivot, acknowledging those who traveled. He encouraged all attendees to pace themselves for the long day. "This is a marathon, not a dart," he said.

Reactions to Hanke's reception were mixed. Afterward he left the stage, a group of players huddled together. "I do feel bad everyone started yelling at him," said 1 actor. "I don't," countered another, who pointed to the months of preparation Niantic had leading upwards to the outcome. "I can't fifty-fifty log in," he ended as he trekked away to the Valor tent.

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Early afternoon

Unfortunately for both players and Niantic, the issues were only just starting. Similar and then many others, by 11AM I was unable to become my game to piece of work. The loading screen — a Tyranitar facing off against a group of pokémon — became a familiar sight on my phone. Even when I managed to log in, my game crashed the 2nd I successfully captured a pokémon. When I circled around the park, players lurched hopelessly, as they struggled to log in or get their games to work properly. One woman shouted, "A grass thing! There's some other grass thing!" to her companion, and a daughter nearby shook her phone. "Oh my god, work!" she said with irritation. The claiming plodded to an end, and players gathered around the primary stage once more for the results.

At that place was a dissonance between Niantic'southward cheerful onstage host and the oversupply itself. Equally she eagerly asked, "How was that challenge?" she was met with a thunder of boos. Information technology was painfully bad-mannered to watch — Niantic employees tried to keep the situation under command, while players became ever more agitated. The crowd somewhen dispersed from the stage, and one exasperated woman walked away shaking her caput. "What a waste of our time," she said.

The onstage presentations continued throughout the day, but they were drowned out by boos and chants of "We tin can't play." The master stage and the adjoining field became something of a comical town hall, a place where strangers gathered to air their grievances, inviting the frustrated applause of the crowd. "This is a failure!" yelled one guest. "This is a ripoff!" chimed in another.

Just past 12:xxx in the afternoon, John Hanke sat onstage smiling and signing autographs. "Screw y'all, John!" yelled one human being standing nearly the fences on the phase's left. His proper noun is TJ Kosek, and he's a 22-year-old who traveled with his two sisters and father from Ohio.

"V and a one-half hours to go here," he said of their journeying. The family arrived just after 7AM and waited more than three hours to go through the entrance. Inside the park, Kosek said he wasn't able to play at all. "Nosotros were non given any kind of reason on what was happening," he said. "It'south been a shitty time." Kosek didn't know if he and his family would stick around much longer. "We'll see if [the game] starts loading by the next event [at 3PM]. If it doesn't, I don't know what we'll practice. We might head out. It feels like a big ripoff. Tolls here, gas hither, hotels, parking, none of that shit was cheap. Nor was paying for the tickets hither, that wasn't inexpensive either."

Kosek'southward story is a common one. Many players, especially families, traveled to be part of the festivities, and they were a mix of irritated, discouraged, and aroused. Many suspected there will be refunds at some point (which was another popular chant during onstage presentations: "Refunds!"), only a $20 ticket inappreciably makes upward for the cost of travel or hotels. Other players appeared to take the event'due south failures in stride. Two men from Ohio, when asked virtually their experience, simply laughed. "We've been disappointed," said Will Allen. But they establish that the experience forged a strange sort of camaraderie. "We're all sharing the pain," he said of the people he'd met so far. "We're not alone."

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Late afternoon

Some players chose to stick out the solar day — they were already at that place, later on all — just other people left in droves. Equally a line formed to get out the park, another line still existed outside to go in. Festivalgoers continued to filter in well into the afternoon. Many didn't know about the disaster they were waiting to enter, while others heard rumblings well-nigh the festival's bug. "I have been getting a agglomeration of tweets nearly people complaining almost the connectivity," said Volition, an eleven-year-old player who flew in from Atlanta.

He waited in line with his mom for more than an hour and a half in hopes of catching a legendary pokémon. Despite the widespread problems, he was hopeful that he would be able to play. "Simply I know that in hither, they're trying to resolve the issue."

Julian Florence, a 29-year-old Chicago native, didn't hear a peep almost the problems after an hour of waiting in line. "I was kind of expecting it, because there's so many people out here playing the game," he said. "Of form there's gonna exist some kind of server issues. I just hope the game works for me. Looking forward to getting in."

Back inside the park, Niantic finally had some answers. The visitor's CMO, Mike Quigley, told the crowd that they identified the bug as three-fold: ane was on the cellphone network provider side, and two cruel on the shoulders of Niantic. iPhone users were experiencing a crash bug, while players on all devices had hallmark problems. Quigley repeated the news he delivered before to those who may accept missed information technology: refunds would exist provided, and players who successfully checked into the result with their assigned QR codes would exist credited $100 in in-game pokécoins, the virtual currency that allows users to purchase pokéballs, revives, and more. "We know this is not the mean solar day we had all envisioned," he said. The radius for capturing special pokémon was extended to 2 miles exterior the park, and it would last through the weekend.

Niantic's mea culpa calmed the oversupply, at to the lowest degree a niggling. Instead of booing as Quigley exited the stage, i human yelled, "Cheers for trying!" As the oversupply dispersed once more than, an awkwardly on-the-nose vocal filtered out from the speakers. "Together nosotros can make it 'til the finish," the chorus repeated.

The hottest hours of the day passed, and news of refunds successfully spread throughout the crowds. The mood gradually institute its equilibrium. Finley Horner, a 22-year-old from Minnesota, said the day's bug were not entirely on Niantic. "I think between those [cellular network problems and the refunds], they're kind of doing all they can," she said. "It's not similar they can pay for everyone'due south travel expenses that they paid to come here. They tin can only do so much." Horner described her 24-hour interval as better than predictable. "I expected it to be a dumpster burn right off the bat," she said. "I would describe this as a hot mess."

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Evening

Just before 5PM, Niantic was set to call it. It was two hours before than expected, which was peradventure the biggest indicator that the event was officially a disaster. All press interviews with Hanke were first pushed, and so canceled for the day. In a statement to our sister site Polygon, a spokesperson described the team every bit "horrified" by the twenty-four hour period's events and eager to learn from their mistakes. The large mystery challenge teased for the outcome, a chance to challenge Lugia in a raid boxing, felt as though it played out much differently than intended. At that place wasn't a big final event. Instead, everyone who had checked into the festival would get a Lugia in their account. Considering Team Mystic collectively captured the nigh, Articuno was the first legendary bird to grace the game. The declaration was met with thanks, only players — despite being invited to remain in the park until 7PM — flooded through the gates and into the Chicago streets.

Niantic didn't respond to additional questions near the festival for this article, but it promised more information on its site presently.

In the hours that followed, the area effectually Grant Park remained a hub for Pokémon Become players. Walking on the sidewalks, y'all were nevertheless likely to get stuck Cerise Rover-style in a grouping of players with their faces tilted toward their screens.

The game'due south problems, admitting improved, persisted long into the night. Just before 10PM, a group of at least thirty players gathered on the sidewalk to wage a raid confronting Lugia. Again and again, they tried to compete. And over again and once more, the players sighed and scowled in disappointment as their screens froze.

Pokémon Go Fest concluded they way Pokémon Go began: information technology was a mess, but in the heat of a summer evening, the biggest fans couldn't quite bring themselves to quit. Dozens of players, their faces illuminated by loading screens, connected to tap dutifully on their phones.

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Source: https://www.theverge.com/2017/7/25/16019404/pokemon-go-fest-refunds-disaster-review

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