Despite most professional game reviewers being well educated literate people, I’ve noticed an increased level of resignation in much of their work and comments. If you look closely you can see the wreckage brought by the knowledge that irrespective of what they write their opinion is instantly dismissed in a tidal wave of contempt that washes over from the curse that is this communal online cesspool.
It’s the digital age. Zeroes and ones. Right or wrong. Game is the best thing ever, game is the worst thing ever. Scales and degrees are lost and the nuances of descriptive narrative are removed in favour of following the man with the arrow over his head, with the validity of such a movement being the consumerism of the ignorant.
You people make me sick.
The reason I say this is because for all the time I’ve reflected on the games I’ve played and written about them, and as with this blog thing, I am constantly worried about the words I use and whether I’m accurately expressing myself with those scales and nuances I like to experience myself. That’s quite tough for me because as anyone who knows me will appreciate, and I’m sure I have mentioned it here before, I’m an uneducated buffoon. And I don’t say that to be self depreciating or ironic. This isn’t a platform to branch out into a career in comedy podcasts or TV. Certainly not with this face, these teeth, and that hairline. Rather, it’s the confession that I have yet to write anything without a dictionary and thesaurus to hand because I fear using the wrong words. Something that was highlighted recently when we had the plughead.net Game Of The Year discussions and I found myself opining without my usual safety nets. It was a great debate to be part of, but equally terrifying. I suspect that’s why when things get a little tense I revert to knob and tit gags.
I’m aware that even when choosing the correct language and being suitably descriptive and reasoned my opinion isn’t worth a carrot. Highlighted over the festive season by my brother announcing a recent game acquisition which he then sought my opinion on over drinks. I naturally expressed concern and a degree of hurt that he hadn’t read my review and suggested that perhaps rather than me providing a summation he would be better served by reading my review in its entirety.
He asked me for the score and a good / bad list.
That’s what has become of reviews. Marketing is king now and people only (skim)read reviews to validate their hype lead purchases. People don’t want to know what the game is really like, they want nice comments about how they’ve made the right choice.
So why not just be nice? Why not just say what people want to hear? Sure, in a few months they’ll have finished the game and be looking to trade it in, but that’s fine because when they were playing it they felt okay about it. You stroked their head and told them how clever they were. They were culturally relevant because they had bought The Emperors New Franchise Entry and you were in it all together, but all together and all together, you’re all together as complicit and deserving of my scorn.
It’s the digital age. Zeroes and ones. Right or wrong. Game is the best thing ever, game is the worst thing ever. Scales and degrees are lost and the nuances of descriptive narrative are removed in favour of following the man with the arrow over his head, with the validity of such a movement being the consumerism of the ignorant.
You people make me sick.
The reason I say this is because for all the time I’ve reflected on the games I’ve played and written about them, and as with this blog thing, I am constantly worried about the words I use and whether I’m accurately expressing myself with those scales and nuances I like to experience myself. That’s quite tough for me because as anyone who knows me will appreciate, and I’m sure I have mentioned it here before, I’m an uneducated buffoon. And I don’t say that to be self depreciating or ironic. This isn’t a platform to branch out into a career in comedy podcasts or TV. Certainly not with this face, these teeth, and that hairline. Rather, it’s the confession that I have yet to write anything without a dictionary and thesaurus to hand because I fear using the wrong words. Something that was highlighted recently when we had the plughead.net Game Of The Year discussions and I found myself opining without my usual safety nets. It was a great debate to be part of, but equally terrifying. I suspect that’s why when things get a little tense I revert to knob and tit gags.
I’m aware that even when choosing the correct language and being suitably descriptive and reasoned my opinion isn’t worth a carrot. Highlighted over the festive season by my brother announcing a recent game acquisition which he then sought my opinion on over drinks. I naturally expressed concern and a degree of hurt that he hadn’t read my review and suggested that perhaps rather than me providing a summation he would be better served by reading my review in its entirety.
He asked me for the score and a good / bad list.
That’s what has become of reviews. Marketing is king now and people only (skim)read reviews to validate their hype lead purchases. People don’t want to know what the game is really like, they want nice comments about how they’ve made the right choice.
So why not just be nice? Why not just say what people want to hear? Sure, in a few months they’ll have finished the game and be looking to trade it in, but that’s fine because when they were playing it they felt okay about it. You stroked their head and told them how clever they were. They were culturally relevant because they had bought The Emperors New Franchise Entry and you were in it all together, but all together and all together, you’re all together as complicit and deserving of my scorn.
