The Easiest Fix for Game Journalism

Listening to the Games For Windows’ podcast today, and a reviewer from 1UP was talking about how frustrated he is with those who pay too much attention to the number given in a review, and not enough to the information therein. This is something I can agree with; I, myself, am a rehabilitating review non-reader. I’d take the numbers, or worse, the “metanumbers” at face value, and assess whether or not I was interested in a game by these numbers. Of course, the numbering system is sort of a journalistic cold war; you need to keep the numbers there, even if they mean nothing to you, to keep attracting the stupid public. Remove them, and nobody will pay attention to you.

Imagine, though, this weren’t the case. Imagine every site and magazine stopped publishing numbers, but moved to some other ranking system. What could replace numbers and their obvious uselessness? First of all, I think the problem needs to be assessed more thoroughly; namely, what exactly IS wrong with numbers? Off the top of my head, I can think of four things:

1) The quality of a game is not quantifiable, while a number is.

This is probably the most obvious flaw. What makes this game an 8.5 and this one an 8? Is there any unifying system? Most reviewers I know start with what number they “feel” should fit, and work their way out. If the second thing I play is better than the first, I rate it higher, and the opposite. But these numbers are almost never based on any sort of metric.

2) Every publication, or even every reviewer, rates differently.

Some games get the shaft because their reviewer treats 5 as an average game instead of 7, or that reviewer won’t give out a 10 to anyting less than gaming perfection, whereas another throws them at everything he thinks you need to own. This is especially bad within one publication, because some people might trust that publiction above all else, not knowing that one man’s 7 was another man’s 9. Metacritic makes this worse, as you don’t even see who wrote an article, or get a context of their average score, or what other games that reviewer has given that score… it’s just an amalgam of contextless, arbitrary numbers.

3) It’s arcane.

New gamers aren’t privy to the numbering system, and it could be intimidating. It doesn’t tell them why they should like a game, or not like it; just rubs a number in their face that comes from a weird evolution over twenty years of games journalism.

4) It’s clumsy.

People, no matter what, want a quick answer as to whether or not they should play something. If they just trust a number, though, they’re only seeing an overall 1-10 bad-good scale. It doesn’t say what needs improving; it might be irrelevant to them that the story is juvenile, for example, while it changed the reviewers number. They

Right, so as I was saying, alternatives to numbers. Warning: The following ideas tread the fine line between satire and not-satire. What that means is, they seem silly, but they all probably work better than those cursed numbers. That said, let’s jump straight into the ideas.

A PICTURE IS WORTH 1000 WORDS.

Instead of a number, each reviewer takes a photograph of themselves that best represents how the game makes them feel. For example, if I were to take a picture of myself after playing Ico, there’d be this incredible sense of wonder on my face, maybe some sparkles in my eyes, or even a single tear. If I were to take a photo of myself after playing Descent: Freespace, I would be vomitting… but giving the thumbs up. Halo 3: I’d be yawning. Street Fighter III: Punching my friend in the nuts with a maniacal grin on my face. If any of those appeal to you, you should definitely check out the game!

The Positives:

+ More expressive than a stupid number.
+ Encourages and inspires creativity!
+ Plays to the user’s emotion, which is awesome, because so many games ellicit an emotional response, and a number can’t really get that across.
+ Takes about as much time to absorb as a number.
+ Very entertaining.
+ Throw Photoshop in there, and you’ve got an entirely unexplored palette for game criticism!
- Gives actors work.

The Negatives:

- Most nerds have about three facial expressions: blank screen stare, bitter bully-just-hit-me snarl, and dopey girl-is-talking-to-me?! face.
- The left-brained folks will hate that they can’t quantify it, and, more importantly, can’t contrast it to similar games.
- May leave even more open to interpretation (is that a grimace of pain, or a grin of deviant joy?).
- A lot of pagespace for print and a lot of bandwidth for Internet (weakest argument ever).
- Gives actors work.

THE INTERNATIONAL LANGUAGE OF PERIWINKLE TRIANGLES

This is another one that will look like it fell out of a Montessori school. It’s also somewhat quantifiable, but that’s part of the magic of it; it will communicate several numbers in one simple, easily understood symbol. The workings would take some getting used to; you select the three most important criteria to you — we’ll pick control/gameplay, presentation (visual and audio), and theme (story, or whatever else you think fits here) and assign one of each to those: hue, saturation, and brghtness. Let’s say that gameplay is on a scale of red to green taking a detour through blue, presentation is represented by the richness of the color, and theme can modify the game by up to 50% darkness or 50% lightness (the former is Bioshock, the latter is Katamari Anything). What do you display these colors on? Shapes that represent the kind of gamer that will enjoy them. One shape might be the “critic” shape. Games like Bioshock or Knights of the Old Republic fall into this– let’s call them “heady” games. You can make up shapes as you go along. Maybe that one’s shaped like a head. Games that appeal to nostalgia get a heart, and Gears of War gets a giant crotch. Or, have every reviewer on your staff represented by their own face, and use the face of whoever champions the game most. If it’s nobody, just make it a generic smiley-face. If they only support it weakly, use a morph program to split the difference between your reviewer and the smiley. If everyone loves it unanimously, use a picture Shigeru Miyamoto or Master Chief or whatever inernet face-meme is in at the time of print.

Positives:

+ Gets many ideas across very quickly.
+ Aesthetically appealing, particularly when many are lined up beside each other.
+ Easily “scalable” for those scared of running away from the numbers game entirely.
+ Quickly rates a game based on multiple important criteria.
+ Funny.

Negatives:

- You look like an idiot.
- No, seriously, it’d look pretty dumb.
- It may be hard to tell some colors once darkened or desaturated.
- Still dumb.
- Some people will still complain; “Why did you give this game #ffc107?! Clearly it deserves at least #ddff12!!!”

SUM IT UP IN A SENTENCE.

Some sites already do this. Unfortunately, Metacritic just tends to pick a sentence out of the review, which, out of context, often paints the game in the light not actually reflected by the review. So, instead, a good option is to take all of your ideas and fit it into ten words. Avoid lazy games-journalism words like “if.” Seriously, you’re wasting everyone’s time if you say Luminous Arc is a decent game “if you’re a turn-based strategy fan.” Tell me why I might like it, and why I might not. For that game, I’d say something like “Easy, light TBS romp; but, generic and irritating menu system.” Ten words, and you have a good idea of the good and the bad. If it catches your fancy, you might read the more in-depth review contained after the tagline. Want another one? Bioshock: “Thrilling FPS; storyline beats average videogames’, but not genre-transcendant.” Ta da! Man, if I had more games, I’d totally be an amazing reviewist.

Positives:

+ Infinitely more useful than a number in determining why a game is good or bad.
+ Short enough that even the most ADD of readers can follow.
+ Encourages people who might actually be interested in the game to read the review, instead of anyone who likes numbers of 7.5+.
+ At the very least, gives metacritic something to quote you on, that isn’t a random sentence from the review.

Negatives:

- It’s not easy to say everything in ten words.
- A point that may actually be relevant is that non-English readers are in the lurch. Every other idea so far is not English-based.
- Okay, that point I made about the ADD readers? Probably not true. They will not read your ten words.
- Even if you’re a master of concise English like me (look at how concise this article is! Look how little of this is redundant of otherwise entirely cuttable!), you still will use the wrong words or fail to sum up your idea in ten words or something.

CONCLUSION

Those are my opinions on the matter. What can you, as a reviewist, do to contribute? Your editors are surely breathing down your neck for the numbers, whether you’re interested in delivering them or not. Below are some options for that:

1. Just say no. They can make up their own numbers based on whoever’s paying them the most, and you can say that “the man” is giving numbers to yor “work,” and you have mahbe even more cred than before.

2. Rate everything an 8/10. No matter if you loved it or hated it. This is what I am doing for my film reviews at The Spoilerist (look for Will! Reviews coming soon!). It’s like an act of protest and a totally stupid, silly thing… all at once!

3. If you’re going to rate seriously, PLEASE rate on an actual 10 point scale, instead of a grade-school scale. I know a C grade is average, but a 7/10 should not be. 5 out of 10 is average; this gives you five levels of excellence (6, 7, 8, 9, 10) and five levels of crapness (4, 3, 2, 1, 0). Give as many zeroes as you do tens. Give as many ones as you do nines. Remember that a great game might be average compared to others. Remember that a game with a rating of three may, in fact, be worth playing.

4. Fuck your dream job and go back to copyediting.

William