Two-and-a-half years ago, the concept of a Ghostbusters game hadn't yet haunted developer Terminal Reality. After working on an impressive engine, the developers eagerly demonstrated their technology to Sierra in the form of a military shooter. The Sierra executives watched passively before turning to Terminal's representatives. They liked the engine, but didn't feel a military shooter was the appropriate fit. How about Ghostbusters? they suggested.

The Terminal team was ecstatic. As self-professed students of geek culture, Terminal knows that Ghostbusters is an integral part of the nerd regimen, and one they happen to adore. The opportunity to work with such a legendary property was the opportunity of a lifetime, one that Terminal Velocity embraced with fervency. After gutting the military theme of the demonstration and re-imagining it in the world of Ghostbusters, Terminal Velocity met with the many holders of the Ghostbusters IP -- Sony, Dan Akroyd, and others -- behind closed doors.

Terminal Velocity held their breath as they watched the stoic group of IP holders, who in turn watched the team's presentation on a big screen. The Ghostbusters, controlled by one of the developers, crept down a dim hotel hallway, proton packs glittering, zappers in hand, as they hunted an infamous green slimy ghost. As the grinning specter burst through a doorway, the Ghostbusters let loose with their zappers, wrangling the Slimer into a shoe box-sized ghost trap that sucked in the iconic trouble maker before snapping shut.

The screen darkened, the lights flared into life, and the room remained quiet for a few moments. "Well?" one of the Terminal developers asked. Silence maintained its foothold for a moment longer before one of the Sony executives spoke up. "Hand me the controller." Terminal was caught between a rock and a slimy place. The game was playable, but only to them, the developers who knew that the presentation was a carefully plotted, carefully paced experience. What if it crashed? Would their golden opportunity crash along with it?


Resigned to whatever their fate might be, the controller was placed in the Sony executive's hands. He leaned forward, restarted the game, and played as the developers glanced nervously at one another. They need not have worried. The Sony exec appeared to be a natural, jogging down the hallway, zapping Slimer, jerking his analog stick back and forth to reel in the entrapped ghost, and sealing the little bugger into the trap in a matter of moments.

The executive, a man easily worth more than the proton packs on the backs of all the Ghostbusters combined, leaped up from his chair and sprinted out of the room. He reappeared moments later, a cardboard box clutched to his chest. As he tossed it onto the floor, dozens of Ghostbusters action figures, video tapes, and miscellaneous memorabilia spilled out. "This," he proclaimed, "is going to be huge. We're going to bring back the toys, the movies -- everything."

After watching a high-powered executive regress to thirteen-year-old in a matter of minutes, the Terminal team couldn't help but grin. Ghostbusters: The Video Game was a go.