Servo - February 2008

One niight, a gaggle of robot builders were posing questiions lliike

“how can we get robot combat — with all its associated cultural and educational benefits — back into the public eye?” Another question that came up was “how can I get paid to blow things up, and yet stay out of jail?” by Jonathan Vandervelde

Needless to say, with the sheer, concentrated weight of genius crammed into that tiny, bamboo paneled Tiki bar, answers to these questions and many more besides were soon flowing thick and fast. And from these ramblings MechBash was born.

Mechwars Robot Combat in Minneapolis (which has been holding both combat tournaments and entertainment events since 1999) and BotBash LLC in Arizona (holding combat tourneys since the misty days of antiquity) decided to team up and put together a traveling show to push the idea of robot combat, and emphasize the educational aspect of the activity.

This new entity — the MechBash Robot Combat Show — would be expensive to operate, but not as expensive as an actual robot tournament, and the entertainment and educational content could be more reliably managed. It would be attractive mostly to large clients like state fairs and big trade-shows.

A format was hammered out and after knocking on many doors, a booking agency was finally willing to take a flier on the idea.

However, after weeks of frantic

tap-dancing and heroic efforts on the part of myself, Bob Pitzer, and our long-suffering agent, we had one single, magical, this-either-turns-the-tap-of-success-or-buries-our-efforts forever booking — the 2007 South Carolina State Fair in Columbia, SC. We all bore down and got working to make it a success.

One of the problems that a robot combat promoter faces is the sheer weight and sophistication of the infrastructure required to stay one step ahead of the builders in the arms-race between the robots and the containment system. And in terms of doing live shows, there is the added complication of time.

The cage has to go up and come down in about a day, and the economics of a show (or tournament) simply don’t work out. It’s all very well to build a super massive mega-cage, but if it takes five days to set up, the promoter has to pay four more days of Staples Center level rent, and consequently loses $80,000 on the show. The result is either a quick bankruptcy for the promoter or — if outside sources of income can be found to delay the inevitable — a slow and ugly death.