Blips: Previously On...

Sources: Charting the edges of avant-garde videogames, Keeping the Cold War quiet in CounterSpy, Twitch gears up to conquer the final frontier: mobile
Author: Dan Solberg
Site: Kill Screen

Just wanted to pop in and quickly plug three (!) articles of mine that popped up on Kill Screen the past couple days. First is a feature on DePaul professor Brian Schrank's new book Avant-garde Videogames, which frames experimental games in an art historical context. The chart above is an image from the book, detailing the categorical field that serves as the basis for many of the book's chapters. As you'll find out from my article, I think it's a tremendously useful book, especially for someone looking for that art context. I have so many avant-garde games to seek out now that I had never even heard of before.

Next up is a review of the Cold War-inspired side-scrolling stealth game CounterSpy. It's a game I quite enjoyed, but found the design to be pretty unforgiving if you don't play it very well going into the final run-up. It's stylish as all get out though, and now that I've got a handle on what to watch out for, I'm actually pretty eager to dive back in and play through again. I do wish that you could hide incapacitated guards and avoid firefights more frequently that the game allows. It is supposed to be a stealth game after all.

Lastly is an article about Twitch's mobile broadcasting aspirations. This article was written a while ago, but other bigger Twitch news kept popping up. Glad it finally got out the door because mere hours later, the Amazon buyout news hit. I think the challenges of bringing broadcasting tech to mobile platforms is pretty interesting, but I wholly expect the story to get buried amongst all the other news surrounding that company. Ah well, maybe someone will click it by accident.

Blips: Wave Racing

Source: What is a Racing Game? On Wave Race 64
Author: Zolani Stewart
Site: The Fengxi Box

Ever since I began reading this essay on Wave Race 64 by Zolani Stewart I've been humming the game's title screen music and fondly remembering this gem of a racing game. In fact it's Wave Race 64's status as a racing game that might prevent it from getting more recognition, but as Stewart notes, it's what the game does within the racing genre that makes it excel as much as it does. There is indeed an element of the sublime at work in the way the jet ski's steer around tight corners, the weight of the watercraft digging into the waves. Wave Race 64 is a beautiful game, and even going back to look at it now, I just think it's pretty. Sure the ocean in a game like Assassin's Creed 4 is going to look more realistic, but it's not a competition for realism, and the sum of Wave Race 64's aesthetic decisions is an upbeat, welcoming place.

Stewart gets into some interesting distinctions between "driving" and "racing" games, and I find the unique distinction with Wave Race 64 to be the open water courses. On these "tracks" the only designation about where to go is the preset rules of the game that ask you to slalom between anchored buoys. In some cases this allows for tremendous shortcuts or the sacrificing of an allowable penalty to cut "corners." I never owned Wave Race 64, but I rented it a lot, to the point where if I bought it, there wouldn't have been much left to do other than beating my own records. However, looking back, I do wish I'd have bought the game for its "driving" aspects. That is, sometimes I just have the urge to get back out on those waves, competitively or not.

Blips: Drop the Vase

Source: This Vase Is A Mirror
Author: Tim Schneider
Site: Kill Screen

If you've ever been bewildered by the art market's ever-inflating auction value headlines, consider Tim Schneider's debut piece for Kill Screen an excellent introduction to what the hell is happening there, helpfully framed in the context of video games no less. I won't go into the whole backstory since Schneider does so in the article but there was an incident earlier this year where an artist (un?)ceremoniously broke an Ai Weiwei painted Han dynasty pot while it was on display in a gallery. Everyone in the press seemed eager to note the proposed value of the pot in their assessment of the situation –supposedly about $1 million. As a response, another artist, Grayson Earle, created Ai Weiwei Whoops!, a game which allows players to similarly drop facsimiles of said pots while racking up an obscenely escalating damage assessment in dollars. That's all there is to the game, and Schneider argues that's, in a sense, all there is to the current art market.

The experience of playing Ai Weiwei Whoops! is worth noting here, which Schneider goes into elaborate detail to explain. It's a game that you'll probably play for 30 seconds, maybe a minute tops; not something that is particularly thought provoking out of context. But in conversation with the smashing incident and the larger art market, the "throwaway" nature of the play experience means something all on its own. Ai Weiwei Whoops! isn't a particularly fun game; the pot crashing doesn't even grant a destructive satisfaction, just the matter-of-fact uptick of the perceived dollar amount lost to the void.

Recap: Jeff Gerstmann at NYU Game Center

Earlier tonight (April 9th) NYU Game Center hosted a conversation with long-time video game critic and Giant Bomb co-founder Jeff Gerstmann. During the talk, Gerstmann discussed a wide range of gaming-related topics, covering his involvement in the critical sphere across past, present, and future. One of the main points of emphasis was Giant Bomb's position as a website that covers video games from a personality-driven angle. Gerstmann and company don't discuss every game on their site, and production of actual reviews has dwindled in favor of video "quick looks" where two editors play through part of a game and provide commentary and impressions through voiceover. The website has a friendly, conversational energy that contrasts with Gerstmann's previous work at Gamespot, which he described as a much more solitary, review-focused routine. As a frequent Giant Bomb visitor, and because of that site's transparent tone, a lot of what Gerstmann had to say sounded pretty familiar to me, but hearing it all at once painted a clear picture of where Gerstmann sees himself in the current industry and where things could be headed.

As engaging as the conversation was, there's not a great through-line to easily sum up what was discussed. One of Gerstmann's strongest qualities is his adaptability. In his career, he was unjustly fired from a job at Gamespot, a job that was, more or less, the entirety of his professional experience up to that point. He was then at a crossroads: either figure out some way to continue getting paid to talk about games or start over from square one on some new path. Ultimately, Gerstmann created Giant Bomb, which served as both a fresh restart, but also a way to remain within a familiar field. Being fired was an opportunity of sorts for Gerstmann to reevaluate how he was covering games. The controversy brought him into the public spotlight in a way that had people interested in hearing his side of the story, but not only that; all of a sudden, people didn't just want to know Gerstmann's opinions on video games, but also his point of view on all manner of subjects in the vicinity of game journalism in general. While personality-based game coverage has certainly gained widespread popularity due to a number of factors, Gerstmann's situation positioned him to move ahead of the curve in a way that probably couldn't have existed without the debacle that preceded it.

It's Gerstmann's adaptability that gives him the confidence that he'll make out alright going forward into an uncertain future. This isn't to say that he's completely got the games thing all figured out, but rather that he's put himself in a position where he can be flexible. This, opposed to older, bigger outlets struggling to keep afloat as traditional revenue streams dry up. An audience member at the talk asked about the significance of Twitch and YouTube personalities, and while Gerstmann acknowledged some of the tremendously exciting things happening in those spaces, he also noted the issues with rights-holders looking for a cut of profits, and how this will likely only get worse. In contrast, Giant Bomb is in a unique position where they can dabble in livestreams, in "let's play"-style videos, in news reporting, criticism, and yes, even game reviews without fully committing the ship to any of them. There's a certain level of celebrity status at work, but without the phony sheen that permeates most public figures who perform in front of a camera for a living. Gerstmann has cultivated a following that's genuinely interested in what he thinks about things, not in an image or fictional persona (or at least as much as that's possible on the Internet).

The Q/A segment of the talk was extensive, and more than anything, showed the fondness and respect that people who follow and care about Gerstmann's work have for him. The room was undoubtedly packed with Giant Bomb fans and followers. When asked how many in attendance subscribed to the site, what felt like an overwhelming majority of hands were raised. What do you think about VR? What do you think about sexism in games? What do you think about people who say Proteus isn't a game? What do you think about academic game design programs? Do you have any plans to get back into music production? Many of these questions are only tangentially related to Gerstmann's "job;" they're questions for a guru. And as a clear sign of his adaptability, Gerstmann was able to address all of them. However, there's a chance this amicability could just be an echo-chamber in action. If everyone knows what everyone likes, within a staff, between artist and audience, between game developers and players, then where's the challenge? I went into the talk with a pretty solid understanding of what Jeff Gerstmann thinks about VR, sexism in games, and Proteus, but I learned just how much effort he spends hunting for those challenges. It keeps him up at night, he says, but it also certainly keeps things interesting.

Blips: Approaching Critical Mass

Source: Critical Proximity

OK, I'm getting back on the horse this week, and I'd like to begin by highlighting last week's Critical Proximity conference. I'm still digging through all of the material presented during the series of talks, but it's an amazing collection of game critics speaking passionately about their practice. On the Critical Proximity website, you can watch the archived livestream of the entire day or click on individual talks to watch video presentations and read full-text transcripts. The video quality on the livestream is too low to follow along with presenters' slideshows, but the audio is plenty functional. As for the talks themselves, I was afraid going in that this series would end up being mostly critics sounding off on their well-worn platforms of choice, but instead I've been quite surprised at the diversity and originality of thought from every talk I've taken in. Conference organizer Zoya Street led things off with a charge for game criticism to be more of a conversation and less of a solitary endeavor, which set the precedent for the bevy of speakers to follow. There are too many great ones to list them all, but Zolani Stewart's presentation on the importance of weird games and the necessity of being critical of the video game industry's capitalist underpinnings, resonated pretty strongly with me. Hopefully we'll see another round of talks next year, and some forward progress on the topics at hand in the meantime.

I'm also happy to report that the weekly game crit curation website Critical Distance has reached its monthly Patreon goal. Senior Curator Kris Ligman gave a talk at the Critical Proximity as well about the process of composing the site's weekly round-ups and what goes into the decision-making process of whose writing gets highlighted and whose doesn't. Best of luck to Kris going forward; Critical Distance is an incredible resource.

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Blips: Surplus Reading

Source: Marginalia 8
Author: Joel Goodwin
Site: Electron Dance

PSA: there will not be any new Low Cutoff posts next week. Sad, I know, but I have to take the week off for personal reasons. Luckily for you, dear reader, GDC is also happening next week, so most of the game community will be focused on that. To that effect, today I wanted to point you in the direction of some reading to fill the void until Low Cutoff's triumphant return. Joel Goodwin periodically compiles these Marginalia posts over at Electron Dance as collections of links, curated from various game developers and critics. This time around, he's enlisted Amanda Lange, Ben Serviss, Raph Koster, Tale of Tales, and Miguel Sicart (whom I just wrote about on Wednesday). Topics are all over the place, ranging from video game violence to user-generated levels, to TSA procedures. Yeah, that TSA. I'm sure you'll find at least a few of the articles interesting. Anyway, that's all for me; Low Cutoff will return on the 24th.

Blips: Together on the Island

Source: Counterweight 11: Miasmata
Author: Joel Goodwin
Site: Electron Dance

Hmm, another article about Miasmata, you say? Well, here you go. There's a new podcast up on Electron Dance where Joel Goodwin and Eric Brasure speak for an hour exclusively about the game, which Brasure finished just recently. Not only is it great to see people talking about Miasmata (sometimes it feels like Goodwin and I are the only ones), but the discussion itself is a great piece of video game criticism. The two podcasters trade stories about their encounters with the Creature, they're frustrations with certain mechanical systems, and their adoration for Miasmata's open-ended structure. Play Miasmata. Do it!

I appreciated this honest discussion because it's easy to put on my blinders when thinking about a game that I enjoyed so much. Goodwin and Brasure don't pull any punches about Miasmata's shortcomings though. I really latched onto Brasue's point about how he'd have preferred less contextual storytelling, and more general mystery. There are ruins scattered throughout the island that are never really addressed in the game; they're simply ancient structures, looming as totems of an unknown civilization. What if the scientists cottages were given that same treatment instead of dotting them with journal entries and chalkboard scrawlings? To be honest though, I got a kick out of that stuff, and the fact that it might have been a little campy didn't take away from the experience at all. In fact, that was my big takeaway from Goodwin and Brasures podcast: Miasmata is a great, unique game with some flaws, but none that detract from the core essence of the experience.

Blips: Still a Game

Source: Dungeon Keeper may be a bad game, but it’s still a game
Author: Mary Hamilton
Site: metamedia

It's a bit strange the way the label "game" has taken on certain qualities of the word "art" considering the two's somewhat tumultuous relationship. But that's what seems to be happening in the case of the new Dungeon Keeper game, which some critics and players have denied the "game" label on grounds of quality. We've all heard this similar accusation made about controversial works of art. "That's not art! It's just a bunch of scribbles!" "That's not art! It's pornography!" That's not art! It's just offensive!" There's a notion with art that a work can be "elevated to the level of art," but if that's the case, what was that work prior to that elevated distinction? Just because a game is rotten with microtransactions or deviates wildly from it's series' roots, doesn't mean it's not a game. This is the conclusion that Mary Hamilton has also drawn in the linked article above.

I see where some of these critics are coming from in the case of Dungeon Keeper though, and they're qualms with the game are on a more formalist grounds. The argument is that you don't really play Dungeon Keeper, but pay currency (virtual or real) to not play it, in a sense. While this argument could hold some water if you're expecting this new Dungeon Keeper to be a simple port of the original game, that's just not the case. This new Dungeon Keeper is simply a different type of game that needs to be played in a different way. I have no real familiarity with that series, but imagine I'd be likewise ticked off if say, a new Zelda game was released with similar mechanics. Instead of working your way through dungeons, Link only has the energy to explore 3 rooms in a 24 hour period, but you can pay minions to do that exploration for you. That sounds like a bad game, and by all accounts, Dungeon Keeper isn't too great either. But it is still a game.

Blips: Passing Knowledge

Source: Why we should be more confident talking about games we haven't played
Author: Steven Poole
Site: Edge

In a new column for Edge, Steven Poole asserts that you don't necessarily have to play the entirety of a game to be able to voice a valid opinion about it. He cites Pierre Bayard's book How To Talk About Books You Haven't Read as inspiration, claiming that there are four categories of periphery understanding of media (in Bayard's case, books): those you don't know, those you've skimmed, those you've forgotten, and those you've heard of. Poole's central example in his piece in GTA V's "torture scene," and how even never having played it, the potency of the discussion around it provides a researched platform for crafting your own new opinions. Why should you purchase and play through dozens of hours of a game that, as a whole, does not interest you, so that you can have the experience of playing a short sequence for yourself, when that same information is basically available to you via other critical responses and YouTube videos?

I'm not in total agreement with Poole here, but in certain applications, he's spot on. On the subject of having to complete a game to comment on a particular aspect, he's right, that's an outdated qualifier, especially when it comes to large or never-ending games. I just reviewed Gran Turismo 6 without "beating" it. Why? Well, I have other games to review and other stories to write, and no one is going to want to read a review of that game by the time I get all the way through it. I did have a firm grasp on what the game has to offer though, and took an approach to reviewing it that centered on how the game presents itself and it's general tone instead of listing off the pros and cons of every stage in the game. This isn't a flawless strategy, but it does a pretty good job of balancing the elements of time, research, and deadlines, where a completionist mandate can exploit a critic's (especially freelancer) time and energy.

That said, my main problem with Poole's assertion is that it stems from what feels like a need to have an opinion on every subject that crosses the zeitgeist. The reality is that no one can play everything, and so to have an opinion on everything, you have to shortcut the process in some way. What feels like is often the case though is that folks are driven to have an opinion instead of driven to say something in particular. Do we really want game criticism to proceed further down the cable news talking head rabbit hole? Besides, it's always possible that a controversial scene or element in a game is offset by the rest of the experience, a notion only individuals who have actually played it would know. At that point, as a critic and non-player of a particular game, you'd better be bringing something profound to the table. In principle, I have little issue with the idea that you don't have to play a game to have a grounded, respectable opinion on it, so long as it's not treated as a free pass on performing research and understanding in-game contexts.

Blips: The Ludonarrative Dumpster

Source: Ludonarrative dissonance doesn't exist because it isn't dissonant and no one cares anyway.
Author: Robert Yang
Site: Radiator Blog

I'd highly suggest giving Robert Yang's new blog post discounting the relevance of the term "ludonarrative dissonance" a read. I provided a link above, fancy that. It's an at-times hilarious description of the dissonant nature of Bioshock Infinite that few who reviewed the game seemed to care about. Yang goes on to argue that critics and players at large don't seem bothered by ludonarrative dissonance at all anyway. We've adopted processes where we recognize "gameisms" (borrowing a term from Tom Bissell) as exceptions to the rules that would otherwise be labelled "dissonant."

One example Yang offers in Bioshock Infinite that stood out for me was the game's supposed commentary on the concept of poverty, yet as the protagonist you find money in trash cans all over the place. Now, I haven't played Infinite, so I can't comment directly on the game's execution here, but it's very effective at illustrating Yang's point. I'll be writing about the game Crypt Worlds soon, which tackles the subject of currency, including finding money in garbage bins, in an extremely thought-provoking way. In short, dumpster diving for cash isn't something most people do, but many video games make it seem normal. Crypt Worlds made me step back and consider that I was spending multiple "days" in in-game time exclusively making the rounds through town, searching garbage cans for money. I really felt like I was a scrounger in what is, in every way, a messed up place. Crypt Worlds didn't tell me it was thematically about poverty or financial systems (among other things), I perceived that through playing it.

And I think that's also part of the issue here. Games, particularly big-budget games with significant PR pushes, build up hype and preconceptions that are meant to sell the game, and these statements are given credence when it comes to critique. The "authorial intent" ingrains itself over time, even before the game is released. Games don't say, "this is about poverty," they say something about poverty, usually about the how it's unjust, conveyed by building empathetic relationships with impoverished characters. However, marketing says "this game is about poverty" in hopes that critics and players will look for it in the game. Again, I haven't played Bioshock Infinite, but I could rattle off half a dozen themes that the game supposedly wrestles with that will be impossible to unknow when/if I decide to play it someday.

I agree with Zolani Stewart's reaction in the comments that the division between "game" and "story" parts is wholly arbitrary and falsely frames critical discussion, and that the problem isn't that games need to rid themselves of dissonance or that dissonance in and of itself is enough to warrant damning critique, but if a game is, through whatever procedural means, presenting a thematic opinion that is undercut by other elements of the game, it's worth pointing out. By the sound of it, according to Yang, Bioshock Infinite undercuts itself constantly. If no one seems to notice, is it because dissonance doesn't matter or just that games and game media are proficient at drawing most players' attentions away from such discrepancies?

Blips: Final Reaction

Source: Taking A Risk
Author: Stephen Winson
Site: re/Action

The news is about a week old, but if you hadn't heard, re/Action, the video game criticism website that aimed to provide a platform for voices not heard elsewhere and pay their writers well for the work they create, did not reach their crowdfunding goal before their deadline. This means that the re/Action project is not going forward since the editors would only have proceeded if they could pay their writers what they saw as a fair rate ($200 per article). In a sort of post mortem, technical editor Stephen Winson penned a look back at the re/Action campaign, thanking all involved and continued to advocate for decent pay for writers.

I was really hoping re/Action would succeed because I thought they were onto something pretty great. Yes, they did publish a piece of mine, but I'm not speaking out of self interest here. I wouldn't have sent them a pitch had they not impressed me with their initial batch of articles and inclusive mission statement about seeking minority voices and opinions. I was just excited to be a part of it. I'd also like to note that my experience going through the re/Action editorial process was quite pleasant, and the feedback I was given was tremendously helpful in focusing an article that I struggled to keep from digging too deep into several pools of minutiae. Also, like Bit Creature, which also went under this year, I thought re/Action's website was pretty and had some nice design touches that complemented the essays contained within.

If it's any consolation, at least re/Action is still online, which gives me the opportunity to read some of the articles that I never got around to checking out. I hope people remember the re/Action campaign in the future when they consider voids in games criticism, but hopefully not as a detraction from trying something similar; on the contrary. In their IndieGoGo video, Managing Editor Andrea Shubert referred to re/Action as a "grand experiment," and in that spirit, I think even the results of an experiment that didn't turn out as planned can be useful in continuing to test the original hypothesis. So, let's pour one out for re/Action, but then, let's raise our glasses to the continued pursuit of the ideals for which it stood.

Blips: Press X to Rosebud

Source: Against Kane
Author: Matthew Burns
Site: Magical Wasteland

I kind of hate that "the Citizen Kane of video games" is still a phrase game critics are wrestling with, even those who are quite adept at ripping the analogy to shreds. It's an overused metaphor that is almost always implemented lazily. For someone looking to take criticism to heart, the label of Kane-ness is an empty gesture, essentially a buzzword. Your game should innovate. Your game should change the conversation. Your game should be both of its time and timeless. You should make the Citizen Kane of video games.

Matthew Burns offered up a welcome critique from the other side of the story, where Kane-like games have been produced for years and where the film might not be the best role model for games going forward anyway. The post is brief and to the point, so I won't rehash it all here except to say that I'm mostly in agreement with Burns, but I'm also hesitant to dismiss the technical prowess of Kane in pursuit of the film's purpose.

The first achievements that come to mind when I think of Citizen Kane are indeed technical: cinematography, lighting, editing, special effects, etc. Welles pushed the studio set in directions that were truly innovative at the time. I'm still amazed by the newspaper office set, particularly the ceiling. What looks like a solid surface is actually muslin, which allowed for hidden boom-mics and low-angle indoor shots. It's incredibly clever.

Categorizing technical achievements in film as separate from what a film is about is a fallacy though, the same as it would be in game design. What is the meaning of any film minus the expressiveness of key technical components? To remove the qualities of editing techniques is to remove adjectives from a sentence. Camera-centric technical aspects of film are as much a part of the language of film as acting, if not moreso to differentiate it as a medium from live theater.

If we want to compare the expressiveness of the procedural rhetoric of games to Citizen Kane or dismiss the comparison entirely, we best understand how the film conveys meaning in every frame. It's much more holistic than just acting, dialogue, and s twist ending.

That said, dear God, let's just put this analogy out of its misery.

Blips: Privileged Action

Source: The Trouble With We Men
Author: Sidney Fussell
Site: Medium Difficulty

I thought today, which sees reviews breaking for Dragon's Crown, was an appropriate time to share this recent piece by Sidney Fussell for Medium Difficulty on the institutional misogyny in the games industry. The article is very in-depth and is full of a ton of useful links for getting up to date on certain gender issues in the game world. Fussell is very upfront about the nature of writing a piece on gender politics from a male perspective. I recommend reading the whole thing and even the (SHOCK!) thoughtful comments section below, but one point that really stood out to me was the mental separation between the game community and the game industry, as if they're not two totally codependent groups. Industry and community are one symbiotic whole, and sexist actions on either side are reciprocated on the other. This goes for more than just misogyny, but that's the topic at hand here.

Dragon's Crown, lest we forget, received a great deal of criticism a while back for its exaggerated character art, particularly of two female characters which seemed born out of a 12 year old's notebook. Now the game reviews are coming in and if you ever wanted a game to act as a general barometer of which reviewers to follow and which to ignore, Dragon's Crown is it. From what I've seen and read about Dragon's Crown, it's a game that's conflicted about who it wants its audience to be. There are tons of callbacks to Dungeons & Dragons and old-school brawler arcade games from the 90s, but the depiction of female characters seems aimed at a demographic who would be too young to get those references. I greatly enjoyed Vanillaware's Odin Sphere in the past, and would normally be be very excited about Dragon's Crown, but knowing how it represents women has tempered that interest. Like so many games that have come before, Dragon's Crown seems to be a fascinating gameplay experience, that for some reason, needs to embarrass its players that aren't heterosexual teenage boys.

To pull from Fussell's article, it's important to acknowledge these kinds of behaviors when you see them, and especially so if you're a professional critic. It's not that we need to censor or eliminate perviness entirely from games, but if you're a critic who turns a blind eye to the issue, you're doing a disservice to your readers who probably just want to know if a game is for them. If you're critic who can't see why the issue needs to be acknowledged in the first place, you don't really have any business being a critic.

Retro Blips: Critical Void

Source: The Lester Bangs of Video Games
Author: Chuck Klosterman
Site: Esquire

As a companion to yesterday's article on the fabled Roger Ebert of video games, I saw this 2006 piece by Chuck Klosterman floating around wherein he laments the lack of video game criticism on the level of music critic Lester Bangs, in the press, and even in game enthusiast publications. I read plenty of video game magazines and websites at the time, and in 2006, Klosterman was absolutely right. In the major publications and outlets there really wasn't in-depth criticism being written that  took into account the new language of video games, but instead writers picked apart games by commercially evaluative elements in the service of consumer advice. As much as we continue to need purchase recommendations, there was an absence of criticism.

While it's telling that many in the video game community still feel a lack of mainstream cultural acceptance for games, the criticism side of things has certainly come a long way. No longer is real game criticism bound to the academic world, but personal blogs and columns have picked up the slack that hadn't been widely produced before. Heck, there's even criticism happening on big-time sites like Gamespot on a regular basis, and the New York Times publishes Kotaku reviews every so often. In many cases these reviews serve dual purposes: offering a critical approach to the meaning expressed by a game, while also explicitly letting readers know if the critic think a game is worth playing via some kind of scoring system. It's not a perfect system, but it is an improved one.

The reason Warren Spector's recent piece felt out of touch to me is because it reads like it was written in 2006, when such critique would have been more accurate to the situation at the time. There is great criticism being written in 2013, and a relatively decent amount at that. It is still underexposed, but the tides seem to be slowly turning in its favor. It's great that The New Inquiry has published a Games issue, but the next step is the have games criticism show up as a part of general cultural criticism more frequently instead of being cordoned off into a game category.

Sadly, it's also quite difficult to make a living writing about games, and especially so for writing criticism. I sincerely hope re/Action reaches its crowd-funding goal (please consider donating), but at this point they have a lot of ground to make up in the closing weeks. Klosterman closed out his piece speculating that is a Lester Bangs figure would emerge in the video game criticism space, that person would likely strike it rich. Well, maybe no one has truly met those aspirations yet, but at this point the whole "get rich" part of the equation seems more like a fantasy.

Blips: The ______ (name) of ______ (medium).

Source: Chasing the Dragon
Author: John Teti
Site: The Gameological Society

It's great that the gaming press is as reflective as they are, consistently examining aspects of their practice and coming up with new ways forward. Sometimes this works out for the best as with recent changes to comment moderation policies on both Kotaku and IGN, at least partly spurred by Samantha Allen's open letter about issues in gaming forums and comments. Other times we end up with Warren Spector pushing for a Roger Ebert of video games. John Teti dismantles Spector's remarks in a thorough essay for Gameological that claims video games don't need their own Roger Ebert.

The crux of Teti's argument centers around the fact that Spector is looking to the past for answers without acknowledging how technological shifts have fundamentally altered the landscape for publishing criticism. Spector wants game criticism in general interest print magazines and newspapers where, in a best case scenario, folks who don't normally read about games can see stories and gradually warm up to them. At the very least, Spector's stance is that having games writing visibly present on newsstands and magazine racks along with other "culturally accepted" media like movies and books, that more people will begin to view games in a similar light. As Teti makes clear, this is a backwards perspective. He notes how TV criticism has found a newly resonant form in online episode breakdowns, posted within 24 hours of the original airing. It's debatable whether this is ultimately the best form for TV criticism to take, but it has undoubtedly found an audience that was not satisfied with the old ways.

It's worth noting that Ebert has a pervasive body of film criticism outside of newsprint too, having written numerous books, produced and starred in his own TV show, and published numerous writings online, including his work for the Chicago Sun-Times. In fact, it's his work outside of newsprint that made Ebert a household name.

Tet's strongest point may be in examining how "cultural acceptance" is measured through old media standards like award shows and film festivals. It's not just that technology has pushed criticism to evolve into new forms, it's that "mainstream culture" does not exist that way it used to. To appeal to the mainstream is to appeal to whom exactly? That Spector cites French New Wave cinephile journal Cahiers du Cinema as an example of a magazine that would be mainstream critique is beyond absurd. There used to be a ton of videogame magazines in the 90s, if that's what you're looking for. For the record, I'm not opposed to seeing more games criticism in print mags and newspapers; I think it would have a positive impact, but would in no way produce game crit's Roger Ebert.

John Teti's full essay is worth checking out. I know I'll definitely think twice about writing the words "cultural acceptance" from now on.

Blips: Let's Talk Later

Source: Poor Community Spirit
Author: Stephen Beirne
Site: re/Action

I'm really digging the latest piece over on re/Action by Stephen Beirne on the classist nature of gaming's critical discourse and the concept of avoiding spoilers. Even though the prices of games have come down in indie categories, popular, big-budget games are still $50-$60. What is cheap and expensive is all a matter of perspective, but there are a great number of people who love to play games who can't afford these games at their initial launch prices and rely on used copies or sale prices to bring games into an affordable range. Yet, the discussions around games are most fervent initially after a game's release, and if a game is lucky it will spur discussion for a few weeks after. For example Bioshock Infinite held critics' attentions for about three weeks past its release, but most games are lucky to get that level of focus for a day or two.

This leads to folks who can't afford games at launch having to wade through minefields of spoilers, minor or otherwise, in order to be involved in critical discussion in any way. What ends up happening is that if these people end up purchasing and playing a game a few months later, their experience is colored by critics and commenters, not of their own making as those very critics and commenters had the privilege of experiencing. It may just be the way business happens, but it's worth understanding the consequences and who does and does not have a voice in critical discourse.

If there's one thing I'd have liked to see more of in Beirne's piece, it's ideas for solutions or improvements. He does acknowledge that indie games are now offered at more affordable prices than their big-budget cousins, so that lowers the barrier to entry for certain games. What about those blockbuster titles though? The zeitgeist moves so quickly, it can be difficult to keep up. After all, the reason there's so much discussion about games at release is because so many people are engaging with the same material at the same time. Think of it like a book club, but one where the market determines which book you're reading next instead of group vote. To tell the truth, I don't really have any ideas for solving this problem. Perhaps something like the Vintage Game Club could be of use for this purpose. I'd love to hear other people's suggestions too. Until then, I'm going to start playing Uncharted 2.

Unfit for Consumption

I have no intention of playing Aliens: Colonial Marines (ACM), and I never did. I soldiered through video of an extensive portion of the game being played, and it came off as a rote shooting gallery with particularly nauseating weapon reports. Unless there had been a groundswell of compelling critical praise, I was never going to touch the game. Besides, Alien(s) fandom, as with most fandoms, is somewhat confounding to me, what with the religious regard the most ardent members of the cult hold their canon. I can't relate.

It seems the game isn't being received too kindly by most critics either, citing ugly textures, broken AI, and a strong whiff of the nonessential in terms of the larger Aliens fiction. Still, a small handful of critics seemed to enjoy ACM. I was especially drawn to Brandon Justice's 9/10 review for EGM, not because of what he wrote (mostly boilerplate upvoting, all told), but for the vicious way that commentors reacted in the infinite space below. To paint the general sentiments with a few words, I'd apply "distrust," "suspicion," "anger," and "malice." Remember, these are responses to a positive review.

I'm not out to refute individual comments; that's an unproductive road to travel. What struck me most was the overriding sense of what readers said they expected from a video game review: a reasonably objective evaluation of a product. The key word here is "product," as in "an item on sale in a marketplace," the game in relation to capital. With the presence of a more significant push than ever before for games to be critiqued as creative works of art, I wonder, is that pursuit at odds with what a very significant portion, if not a majority, of what video game enthusiasts show they want?

Since so many commentors on the EGM review claimed that Justice's praise had been purchased by ACM's publisher (accusations which are unfounded), clearly money is already on the brain. The snap judgement nature of these reactions could stem from one's personal understanding and cataloging of video game review scores. A great number of people use those figures to gauge whether or not they want to purchase a game, and have their own score threshold for when a title becomes worthy of their cash. This is especially variable for games that earn scores between 6 and 8 out of 10.  Looking at how low ACM was scored (twice as many scores below 6/10 as above it on Metacritic, and only one other critic scoring the game at an 8/10 or above), it would seem that a great deal of the negativity toward Justice is because readers are interpreting his review as a corporate-backed attempt to trick them into spending money on a product that isn't worth it.

For those of us who want video games and the discussion around them to allow for higher levels of discourse, the cold, capitalist nature of how games and reviews are consumed can be disheartening. On the other hand, it's a valid argument that perhaps ACM is not a game that engages intellect in any way and thus is not material for discussion in the context of art. That's actually the impression that I get from most ACM critics. The video game community can't expect to have thoughtful debate when the centerpiece of the discussion brings nothing to the table. It leaves critics with little to go on other than to pick apart how and why the game is an empty experience. Not that there's nothing of use there, but it's a thread that dead ends pretty quickly and with most critics arriving at the same, redundant conclusion.

Professor/Game designer Ian Bogost recently posted a review of the game Proteus on Gamasutra that is divided into 3 parts, each able to operate as a stand-alone review from distinct perspectives. One sees the player as taking on the role of a disembodied island-observer. The next is that of a traveler, and the third, a musician. This kind of review could be combined all into one piece, but by separating it into three, Bogost makes his point about the richness of the Proteus game experience through both the content and the form of his writing. This, in the current state of video game criticism, is a best case scenario: a game dense with avenues for engagement and a critic who can take something valuable from that experience and use it to craft his/her own reflective work.

Bogost's Proteus review will not show up on Metacritic. There is no score.

Product reviews do have a place and a use in the game industry. Not everyone cares or has the time to envelop themselves in long-form criticism, and scores, when properly weighted, can provide valuable shorthand. The issue is that the vast gaming public has been weened on product reviews as game criticism to such a pervasive degree that they have become the de facto standard for critical analysis. This is not a model for enrichment, but rather consumption. I'm in no way defending the behavior of commentors on Justice's ACM review, but I can tell they're hungry, and when people are hungry they lash out. The system eats itself.

:image by Icarion: