Request hour: Defining genre, living the dream, and required reading

Continuing Insult Swordfighting request hour. Let's see if I can get everybody's name right this time. Ahem.

Ben had two questions.

Is game genre sheerly defined by the mechanics of the game interface, or do ineffible unengineered aesthetic/artistic qualities play any deterministic role?

It doesn't always have to be this way, but I think we define genre exclusively by the interface. It's why Halo is a first-person shooter and Halo Wars is a real-time strategy game. Sometimes the aesthetics can make a difference -- I think the shift from high fantasy to sci-fi wasteland is a big reason why I loved Fallout when Oblivion had left me cold -- but ultimately I think we tend to base our gameplaying preferences around mechanics first, and aesthetics second.

Hrm, that's not really an essay question. Bonus: Who's the awesomest turtle in gaming? Show your work

My favorite has historically been Donatello, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle whose bo staff gave him excellent reach in combat (he was absurdly useful in the original TMNT game for the NES). But going the TMNT route is a little too easy, as is picking any of the Koopa Troopas. What does that leave? Nothing I can find. I defy you to find any combination of Google queries incorporating "video games" and "turtles" and not find your heroes on the half-shell exclusively. Or hey, about that turtle-like colossus in Shadow of the Colossus?

This one's from L.B. Jeffries:

You just won the lottery. Big time. Assuming you set aside enough to be comfortable for the rest of your life AND assuming you dedicate the other portion to gaming in some way...what would you do? Start a magazine? Make your own game? Start a museum?

If I won the lottery, I am pretty sure that no one would ever see or hear from me again. I would drop off the grid entirely. But I would spend plenty of money putting together the most bitchin' man cave you've ever seen, of which gaming would be the central focus. I would spend much more time playing far fewer games.

In the spirit of the question, it's entirely possible I would get bored and feel the need to give back in some way. Now that you mention it, if I could self-fund a magazine without having to worry about the bottom line, that would be a great idea. There are too many good writers spread too far apart for this not to happen. Most of my favorite writers remain either unaffiliated with professional publications, or do their most interesting writing on the periphery. It would be awesome to have a central place for all this.

Of course, there's no reason this couldn't happen now, in website form, but then I'm a lazy, lazy man. Also, I think I just described the Escapist.

Anonymous asks:

What should be essential/required reading for a college-level course on analysis and criticism of video games?

There's not anything I can think of directly related to video game criticism, in the sense that it deals with that as its subject. But I have read a few books that have broadened the way I think about games. Among them are James Paul Gee's What Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy, Steven Johnson's Everything Bad Is Good for You, and, just this past week, Jim Rossignol's This Gaming Life. All three books take a hard look at games that isn't reflected by most mainstream reviews. The first two break down games into components much different than the usual graphics-sound-control axes, while the third book is about how games provide singular experiences that have the power to shape lives.

I'd also recommend reading Roger Ebert's Awake in the Dark, because the way Ebert writes about movies is the way I think more people should be trying to write about games: he's literate, informed, and respectful, and his love for all movies shines through everything he writes.

To be continued.

Reviews symposium: Partly, badly realized

Let's all welcome Shawn Elliott back to Blogistan. Hopefully they're not working his fingers to the bone at 2K Boston, and he'll have plenty of time to favor us with some posts. In the inaugural post at his new blog, Shawn posits a series of questions about the ethics and practices of game reviews. It's interesting stuff, and fodder for serious discussion. (Just like a LiveJournal meme!) I figured I'd go ahead and answer his questions. Maybe some of you will have reactions of your own to share in comments.

Question 1: How much is on our minds before we begin playing any given game for review purposes? Will we imagine a range of probable scores that a heavily marketed, highly budgeted, and hugely anticipated game will get? What when the game is branded "budget" or is the work of a lesser-known, less-storied studio? If so, how closely have actual scores correlated with our assumptions?

As little as possible, if I can help it. Generally the games we opt to cover at the Phoenix are high-profile ones, although it's nice once in a while to seek out something a bit more obscure. Even so, I try to avoid reading too much preview copy, or knowing more than the bare minimum about a game before I play it. That seems like the best way to be fair. Sometimes a little foreknowledge is unavoidable, though, such as when playing a sequel or a game from a distinctive development house. I think that's okay, particularly if you mention it during the review.

Question 2: Ought reviewers settle on a score before, during, or after writing a review? How consistent are our practices with our prescriptions? Have we, for instance, revised a score after writing our reviews, even though we advocate against it, and if so, why?

I don't know how much it matters. Most of the time I assign the score before I write the text, although there have been numerous occasions in which I've changed the score after writing the review. Usually it's a matter of a half a point, but it's happened on both ends of the scale. I've written reviews and thought, "This sounds like a 9.0 instead of an 8.5," and I've said, "This sounds like a 4.0 instead of a 4.5." Sometimes the process of writing a review can clarify your thoughts about a game in a way that thinking about it cannot. Reviewers ought to do what works for them. (I don't see why you'd advocate against changing your score, either.) If the review and the score don't seem to agree, one of them should be changed.

Question 3: When possible, do we look at the scores that other critics give to the games that we're reviewing, as we review them? If so, are groupthink or iconoclasty potential problems?

Never. Never. I go out of my way to avoid reading other reviews or looking at a game's Metacritic score until after I've written my own review. Whether you think you're impervious to this kind of influence, it's got to stick in your mind at least a little bit if you disagree with the masses. Why take the risk? 9 times out of 10 it seems like my score is right on the Metacritic money, but that 1 other time is where your integrity lies.

Question 4: Often times we will have repeatedly played and/or previewed games in development prior to reviewing them. Does this familiarity with a particular game's developmental process influence the scores that we assign to the final product in the way that a professor will take into consideration her students' limitations and proven potential when she evaluates papers at the end of the semester?

This has never come up. In fact, I'm still angry at Harmonix for not showing me the Guitar Hero prototype that must have been somewhere in their office when I visited. Frankly, I'm not sure how I'd handle such a situation. On one hand, a better knowledge of the challenges developers face might help me write more informed reviews. On the other hand, it's not my job to review what should have been, or what I know the developer wishes had been. I'd like my first exposure to a game to be its completed form.

Question 5: Review writing carries real consequence, especially among members of the enthusiast press. Once-warm PR people and game producers can become cold upon our publication of undesirable review scores, diminishing or eliminating our ability to secure subsequent interviews and access. Postmortem discussions and exclusive looks at the publisher and/or developer's forthcoming products are less likely. Conversely, a few publishers will permit us to post reviews before competitors, provided our review scores are favorable. Do such pressures produce a subliminal background or even enter our thoughts as we write reviews and assign scores?

Again, hasn't come up -- one of the benefits of writing for non-enthusiast publications. I have to say, I don't know how I'd handle it if I had actual relationships with PR folks. I have a horrible tendency to tell people what I think they want to hear.

Question 6: Is grade inflation an ongoing problem?

Less so than the habit of declaring games "one of the best," "one of the most," or "important," before we've even had a chance to let the disc drive stop spinning. Look, scores probably are too high. Everyone seems to agree on this. But I think the Metacritic model has largely done away with this problem. Can you tell the difference between a score of 9.6 and 9.7? Not on one site, no. But in the aggregate, yes. That is, a 10-point difference in a Metacritic score usually seems definitive to me, even if both games are scored too high.

Question 7: Do scores determine our tone? Can a "3" encourage us to explain an aspect of a game in clearly negative terms where our attitude is actually less decided? Example: Game X's camera obscures the action, combat is irritatingly difficult, and "save" stations are few and far between. In our reviews, is Game X's plot, which we're still thinking through, more likely to become miserable than plain?

In this case, I would probably skip discussion of the plot altogether, or mention it briefly as one case in which the game is not a total loss. Here's why: In this scenario, the game's plot, however strong, obviously could not overcome the game's other flaws. Therefore, who cares about it? It may be worth the mention for readers who might be interested, but, personally, I don't think it's the critic's job to try to divine what hypothetical human being might enjoy each and every game. It's the critic's job to be honest about his experience.

Question 8: Do scores encourage our readers to conduct a sort of text-to-number calculus where the two obviously negative statements in an otherwise positive-sounding review necessarily translate into every point deducted from the "10" that the game didn't get? Does this make reviews with high marks more likely to overlook fault, and reviews with low marks less likely to celebrate accomplishment?

If so, whose problem is that? But just as with the situation above, if a reviewer thinks a game deserves a 9 or a 10 despite some fault or another, I'm not sure how important it is to mention that. This does get at the basic problem of the scoring system in general. It's important to remember how much people really like scores, though, and how useful aggregators have turned out to be. I don't think the solution is to throw out scores entirely, tempting though it may sometimes be. The best a reviewer can do is try to be consistent. (Note: No one will ever accomplish this.)

Question 9: Which is more important to us, our scores or our copy? If the latter, have our responses revealed any inconsistencies between our attitudes and actions? Are we still convinced of the importance and power of scores?

Copy, copy, copy. Any writer would tell you that. Nothing is more important to me than the text of my own reviews. But I'll let the readers tell me whether my responses have revealed inconsistencies between my attitude and my actions. I don't think so, but I'm not the best judge of that.

Related suggestions for Ethics section:
Have we ever submitted review scores to publishers prior to their publication? If so, why?

No.

Have we ever submitted review copy to publishers prior to its publication. If so, why?

No.

Have PR people suggested that specific critics review specific games? Have we complied with their suggestions?

No.

Reviews Vs Criticism
Question 1: What is the object of a review? What are the review writer's obligations?

This depends on the outlet. I actually do think the big sites should be acting as consumer advocates, even if I wish they were a little bit more adept at doing so. For myself, and for the kind of writing I find most interesting, I think the point of a review is to illuminate what a game is actually about, beyond the surface level of the plot and the play mechanics. How do they intersect? How do the game's apparent goals seem to mesh or conflict with its execution? What is this game trying to say? A reviewer's obligation is an honest and thorough attempt to find both the question and the answer.

Question 2: If the purpose of a review is to suggest to consumers how they should spend their time and money, why do we avoid less-granular grading scales such as Buy, Try, or Avoid? Example: Giant Bomb founder and former Gamespot editorial director Jeff Gerstmann told MTV's Multiplayer blog that “'How can I save people money today?' is basically the kind of mentality that I tackle this stuff with.” Under Gerstmann's directorship, Gamespot reviewed games on a hundred-point scale. Is a 9.6 different than a 9.7 when the wisdom of a purchase is what the reviewer wants to communicate?

Well, I don't think this is the purpose of all reviews. Like I said, for Gamespot or IGN, it probably is, and that's valuable in its own right. But for what I'm after in reviews, it doesn't matter if a game costs $100, or is free. I want what I say about it today to be true whether it's brand-new, part of a "Greatest Hits" collection, or even eventually available for free as abandonware. I probably don't always meet that goal, but it is the goal.

Question 3: Actual sales rarely correlate with review scores in cases where games are not also heavily hyped and marketed. Increasingly, gamers pre-order games prior to the publication of reviews. Interactive demos allow our audiences to decide for themselves whether or not a game will be worth their dollars. In addition, word of mouth and message board discussions inform our potential audiences' purchasing decisions with an intimacy and directness that we cannot provide. Finally, review aggregation sites such as Metacritic mute the bias of individual reviewers and provide a bigger picture. Do these circumstances suggest that our self-perception is, well, delusional – a throwback to a time when magazines and websites were gaming's gatekeepers? If our audiences believe this, even if we do not, what are they really reading for?

I don't think my self-perception is what Shawn implies here. I've had too many conversations with Phoenix readers who weren't aware that the paper even runs game reviews to get too full of myself. But this is part of the argument for deeper, better game reviews. It's good that gamers can decide on their own what to get, thanks to demos. It's not so good that a well-oiled PR campaign can turn an iffy game into a million-seller. If reviewers want to consider themselves gatekeepers, they are doing a very bad job of it -- numerous and varied counterexamples not withstanding.

Question 4: Can criticism (concerned with telling our audiences what they're spending time and/or money playing as opposed to whether or not a game is worth spending time and/or money to play) coexist with reviews? Is a competent review also a critique -- as is so often the case where lit, movies, and music are concerned -- or should we separate the two?

I think the best reviews would have a little from column A and a little from column B. If a review is written well enough, even if it leaves out some things that might be important, a reader should still get an idea of the game's gestalt experience. They may read a positive review and be convinced that a game is not for them, or read a negative review that nevertheless convinces them to give the game a chance. The goal isn't for readers to agree with everything the reviewer says, but for the reviewer to provide food for thought.

Question 5: What can (or should) such criticism take into account?

I think I got to this up above somewhere, but to distill it, I'll paraphrase Roger Ebert: "What is this game about, and how is it about it?" I'm still irked by criticisms of No More Heroes that complained about jagged graphics and the limits of the Santa Destroy overworld. The game was a satire. Those things were manifestly the point of the game. Now, a reviewer may still fairly dislike the game for these reasons and more, but it was a dereliction of duty not to accurately interpret the game's intent. On a broader scale, I believe games have a responsibility to be user-friendly, thoughtful, and moral (not moralistic). These are all things I try to think about when I write a game review.

I wish they would stop writing like this

From IGN's review of Bionic Commando Rearmed:

Capcom is finally revisiting the classic with an updated version that takes everything that was good from the past, modernizes it, and then adds new layers of awesome.

Never mind that the sentiment is trite and juvenile. "Awesome" is an adjective. The noun form is "awesomeness." Is it too much to ask for professional writers to get basic grammar right?

The difference between reviews and criticism

Pat Duggan sends a link to a piece at Play This Thing!, titled "Game Criticism, Why We Need It, and Why Reviews Aren't It." The premise is one that has been bounced around for years, and which seems to be popping up with increasing frequency: that the vast majority of game reviews really aren't criticism at all. As this piece puts it:

A review is a buyer's guide. It exists to tell you about some new product that you can buy, and whether you should or should not buy it...

Criticism is an informed discussion, by an intelligent and knowledgeable observer of a medium, of the merits and importance (or lack thereof) of a particular work. Criticism isn't intended to help the reader decide whether or not to plunk down money on something; some readers' purchase decisions may be influenced, but guiding their decisions is not the purpose of the critical work. Criticism is, in a sense merely "writing about" -- about art, about dance, about theater, about writing, about a game--about any particular work of art.

The piece argues that the games press is well stocked with "reviewers," and totally lacking in "critics." You can go anywhere for a Consumer Reports-style look at a game, but it's tough to find any really insightful or illuminating critics -- especially someone whose reviews are strong enough to stand on their own as readable essays. I don't disagree with this. The places people tend to identify with game reviews -- IGN, Gamespot, Game Informer, etc. -- take a rudimentary approach to their craft. I do disagree with this point:

The truth is that, for the most part, we don't have anything like game criticism, and we need it -- to inform gamers, to hold developers to task, and to inform our broader cultural understanding of games and their importance and impact on our culture.

That "for the most part" is key, because you have have to dig to find what this person is looking for. But that doesn't mean it's not out there. Lots of the writers on my blog roll take a more critical approach to games, like Leigh Alexander, Michael Abbott, and Chris Dahlen, and so do I. Whole blogs exist to fill precisely this alleged void, like Critical-Gaming. Paste publishes a page full of critical game reviews every month, and that's a popular national magazine. What about The Escapist?

Do we have the equal of Pauline Kael yet? No, not that I know of, and if there is, she's certainly not getting published in anything like the New Yorker. But that doesn't mean she's not out there. It may simply mean we haven't found her blog yet. The implication of something like this, too, is that Kaels abound in the world of film. It's not so. Most movie reviewers are guilty of the same sins as game reviewers, even if they tend to be more witty and literate across the board. The piece calls out Roger Ebert as more of a reviewer than a critic, but hell, if a game reviewer ever won a Pulitzer as Ebert has, I'd consider that a victory for all of us.

I'm glad Play This Thing! brought up Ebert, in fact, and not just because of the controversy he's ignited in the gaming community of late. He's one of my few heroes in the world of criticism/reviewing/whatever, and not just because he's a wonderful writer who can find something interesting to say about the most boring of films. It's because the man cares, and cares deeply, about movies. He doesn't let ugly or cynical films slide because they're "just movies." He believes in the promise of films to bring us to a higher emotional and spiritual plane. When that doesn't happen, you can tell he's disappointed. That brings me to what I think is the most important and true bit in this whole piece:

The point is that a critic has to take his subject seriously, as an example of art, or at least of craft; and take seriously as well the intentionality of the creator, and the importance to those who experience the results of the results, and the impact on how they think and feel.

This, in a nutshell, is what's wrong with game reviews today. Which is not to say that it's true of all reviews or reviewers -- only that when and where reviews fail, this is most often the reason. We are happy not to take games seriously. We treat them as playthings.

Which, to be fair, some are. Not every game may be worthy of the critical approach, quite honestly. Good ones are. Some bad ones are. The wasteland of acceptable, unremarkable fare isn't worth the time or attention, I don't think. I'm happy to be proved wrong on this point. But right now I'm playing through a game called The Club, a pretty rote exercise in skill-based gaming, and I can't even fathom applying to it the slightest intellectual rigor. It's not a bad game -- certainly entertaining enough in spots -- but it is a game with literally nothing on its mind. Therefore, I will take an entirely different approach to reviewing it than I did, say, No More Heroes. The point is that each review should be tailored to the game, rather than trying to cram each game into the same review template.

As ever, the best way to fill the void of critical gaming discourse is to begin to discourse critically about games. It is valuable to point out where the games press is failing readers, but just as with criticizing a game, it takes more than simply identifying flaws. It's about aspiring to an ideal. It's about demanding more from our games and from ourselves. The corporate sites won't do it, because it doesn't make sense financially. They're already getting the biggest slice of the pie -- why change? That means it's up to bloggers and independent sites to dig deeper. There are plenty of us out here. If we lead, the readers will follow.

And then -- only then -- so will the publishers.