#oneaday Day 135: Just one is fine

As I type this, I can overhear my wife listening to some YouTuber I hate the sound of promising to “review every celebrity brand make-up”. And this reminded me of a weird trend that is specifically a YouTube thing, whereby it seems like looking at just one thing is never enough, you’ve always got to do every instance of a thing.

I Ate At Every Margaritaville In the Country. I Watched Every Barbie Movie. I Played Every Poorly Reviewed Soulslike Game on Steam. This particular “style” of video always seems to be combined with some sort of deliberate suffering — both for the presenter and the viewer, I’d wager — and honestly, it just doesn’t appeal to me at all. I’m the sort of person who would much rather take their time over exploring something sprawling in depth and detail than attempting to cram it all into one video — because I can’t help but feel if you’re cramming a massive amount of things into one video, each individual thing isn’t going to get much of a look-in, is it?

I realise this is the point of some of these videos, either to highlight the fact that the many instances of Thing are almost identical to one another and thus can’t really be distinguished, but it still irks me somewhat — especially when it comes to a lineup of things that is quite varied such as, say, the output of a particular software company. A video along the lines of “I Played Every Blizzard Game” feels like it would do none of the games any real justice, because each one is very different from the last and deserves its time to shine. Hell, even “I Watched Every Barbie Movie” is probably doing at least some of the Barbie movies a disservice.

My thinking along these lines is why I handled the “Atari A to Z Flashback” series on my YouTube channel as I did. Atari Flashback Classics for Nintendo Switch had 150 games, so I made 150 videos. It took a long time, but I came out of it feeling like I’d completed a worthwhile project — and I absolutely gained some new appreciation for a bunch of games from among that 150 that I otherwise wouldn’t have if I’d just given them all a cursory glance and been done within 20 minutes.

Now I’m not saying that everything has to be an epic, long series or anything, and I suspect what I’m describing is more of a “me problem” than anything else. But I know that I, personally, would much rather take my time going through something with a lot of component parts, giving each piece time to digest and myself the opportunity to come to some conclusions that I might not otherwise have been able to if I was racing through to meet my “content deadline”.

I guess that isn’t what people want these days, though. They want short, quick-fire, snappy — because the modern Web has been set up to pander primarily to those with no attention span. But, as I’ve argued on several previous occasions, I fear that this just creates a vicious cycle, whereby people’s attention spans get shorter and shorter, and the quality and depth people go into when writing or producing videos suffers as a result.

If someone doesn’t have the attention span to stick around for more than 3 seconds, that’s not my problem; that is very much their problem. I am gratified to see the recent growth in “newsletters” (or blogs, as we used to call them) that present long-form articles intended to be sat down with and savoured; they’re not for everyone, sure, but it does please me to know that there are other people out there who enjoy life on the verbose side of things, and they don’t care if they “lose” some people due to the sheer length of what they post. As I say, that’s a reader problem, not a writer problem. No-one told Charles Dickens not to spend so many fucking pages describing fog — instead, he just gave anyone who couldn’t handle it the finger, and his work continues to be regarded as a classic regardless. No-one’s going to remember the names of any YouTube Shorts or TikTok creators in 50 years.

I think I got off the point somewhere. But yeah. Review one thing at a time, please. Then I might take your opinions seriously.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

2303: Review in Progress

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I’ve noticed a lot of gaming sites posting “review in progress” articles for new releases recently. And while there is a time and a place for this sort of thing — most notably in the case of massively multiplayer online games, or multiplayer-centric titles that are dependent on their communities — I don’t think it’s a particularly appropriate way to handle single-player games.

The idea of a “review in progress” is for the author of the article to post their thoughts and opinions about the game as they’re playing it, updating it over time before coming to a final judgement and a score, assuming the publication in question does scores. This does kind of make sense in a way, because some games are slow burners that take a while to learn, and it can be interesting to see how someone’s reactions and feelings change over time. But at the same time, I find myself asking why the author didn’t just hold fire until they’d beaten the whole thing, then talk about their complete “journey” all in one go. That makes for an interesting structure for an article; in the case of games with strong emergent narratives but challenging mechanics — something like a Paradox strategy game, for example — it can even provide the basis for a compelling “story” of how the reviewer learned how to manage their empire more effectively after their incompetent beginnings.

The reason why “reviews in progress” exist should be obvious by now, though: they’re there to hoover up some of those sweet, sweet clicks from people Googling, say, “valkyria chronicles remastered review” or “overwatch review” or whatever else the latest hotness might be. Because the word “review” is in there, these half-finished articles show up in search results (assuming the tech guys at the sites in question have done their SEO homework) when what people are really looking for is detailed, authoritative, helpful and knowledgeable information on games they’re interested in. It’s one of many examples we have today of the inner machinations of the press being self-serving rather than in service of their readership.

More than that, though, as someone who’s floated in and out of the games press since he was a teenager, I find the idea of a “review in progress” somewhat objectionable on another level. When I took on my first ever writing assignments, I did so on the understanding that you should finish the game you’re writing about before putting pen to paper in order to be able to give a complete, in-depth appraisal of everything it had to offer. Granted, this was in the magazine age, when publications had rather more time to assemble their articles, and also in an age where there weren’t nearly as many games released every week as there are today — not to mention an age where 100-hour games were pretty much unheard of — but still, I think it’s a good goal to aspire to.

If you’re a professional critic, regardless of what you think the “purpose” of game reviews are, people are going to come to you on the assumption that you know what you are talking about, and that your articles will be well-researched, informative and helpful for making a purchase decision, or simply to find out more about a game. If you’re not doing your job properly — in other words, if you’re posting garbage like this or this, to give two extreme examples — then you shouldn’t be at all surprised when you become the object of ridicule that the average modern games journalist is today.

In other words, the games press would be a whole lot better — and more helpful to its readers — if it stopped worrying about churning out articles to release dead on embargo time, and instead only post pieces when the author in question actually has a full, complete and knowledgeable understanding of the thing they are commenting on.

Sadly, I don’t see this happening any time soon.

1367: Alpha

Eurogamer published the first of its “alpha and beta reviews” earlier on the subject of Peter Molyneux’s possibly rubbish new God game Godus.

The posting of said review, coupled with the accompanying justification for it (including why it doesn’t carry a score) immediately prompted the usual snark on Twitter. This made me gnash my teeth in frustration.

After the previous paragraph, it will probably not surprise you to learn that I’m actually in favour of Eurogamer doing what it’s doing — and no, not just because I work for their sister site USgamer. No, I actually think this is an important thing, particularly given recent developments in the growing “early access” model of selling games — and the fact that some people apparently aren’t aware of said developments.

You’re probably already familiar with the basic “early access” programme — buy something, often for a cut-down price, and get immediate access to an early version of the game so you can 1) try it out before everyone else does and 2) provide some feedback that can actively help with development. It worked for Minecraft, it worked for Frozen Synapse and there’s plenty of others out there it’s worked for too.

Here’s the strange new development, though: a number of free-to-play games have put themselves in Steam’s Early Access catalogue. Nothing unusual, you might think, until you notice that they’re actually charging for you to play this early version. In effect, you’re paying to be part of a closed alpha/beta test for a game that won’t cost any money to download when it’s finished.

This is weird, no?

Okay, in most cases you’re not just paying for access — in the case of Snow, you get some bonus items and in the case of Magicka: Wizard Wars‘ upper tiers, you get a full copy of Crusader Kings II for considerably less than its full retail price — but it still seems a little odd; I can’t get away from the fact that you’re “buying” a free-to-play game.

And this is why Eurogamer’s idea of specifically reviewing commercially available alpha and beta versions is a sound one. It’s something distinct from a hands-on preview — which is what most of the snark from earlier was comparing it to — because it discusses something that people can actually hand over money for right now, despite the fact it’s not finished. A hands-on preview typically comes from something that not everyone has access to, be it a play with the game at a developer’s office, a behind-closed-doors look at a trade show, or even a report on a demo from a consumer show such as Eurogamer Expo that not everyone would have had the opportunity to attend for whatever reasons; by contrast, an alpha/beta review lets people know whether or not it’s worth spending their hard-earned money on something that may or may not cost a different amount of money when it’s finished being developed — or indeed something that may be completely free when it’s finished.

Being informed is important, particularly when it comes to making a decision about whether or not to spend money on something. I think we’ll start to see more of this sort of thing in the near future, and it’s going to be an important part of how we look at the development process of games in the coming years.

1337: The Value of Comments (Or the Lack Thereof)

Grand Theft Auto V’s reviews came out today — the game itself is out tomorrow.

Unsurprisingly, comments sections the world over erupted into chaos on each individual site’s review (although USgamer’s has, as ever, remained largely very polite and articulate, which is a trend I sincerely hope continues).

Of particular concern is Gamespot’s review, which gave the game 9/10 while still managing to point out the fact that yes, GTA has some issues with women that it really should have probably gotten over by now. My concern isn’t with the review itself, which is an interesting, well-argued read; rather, it’s with the 3,192 comments that are beneath it at the time of writing — a figure that is literally increasing by the second right now.

What is the value in that comments section? Leaving aside the loathsome content of a significant proportion of those individual comments, what possible value is there in allowing people to comment on a review at such a rate that it becomes literally impossible to follow a single conversation? What possible value is there in 3,216 (yep, it’s gone up in just those few words) comments, many of which contain the same ill-informed, bile-spewing opinions? For that matter, even if they didn’t contain said bile, what possible value is there in having 3,230 comments beneath a review? Who is going to read all that shit except, possible, judging by Twitter, for people who have a particular taste for masochism?

It’s not just Gamespot’s review that’s a problem, though it, at the time of writing, appears to feature by far the most objectionable people. Destructoid’s Jim Sterling has been complaining about commenters once again lambasting him for rating [game x] one score and [game y] another score when they have nothing to do with each other. He notes that he doesn’t believe review scores are the problem there, either.

Perhaps they aren’t, either; perhaps the problem is the comments section.

The trouble with proposing something drastic like eradicating all comments sections, however, is that they’re occasionally valuable — though increasingly we’re in a situation where comments sections are only useful and conducive to meaningful discussion on smaller sites such as USgamer, and personal outlets such as this blog. In the case of large-scale sites like IGN and Gamespot, it seems that all comments sections achieve is to give imbeciles a soapbox to stand on and bellow their idiocy from while simultaneously finding like-minded twats to validate their opinions, culminating in the ridiculous sight of people genuinely clamouring for Gamespot to fire the reviewer Carolyn Petit for giving Grand Theft Auto V 9 out of 10 instead of the 10 that they, the people who have not played it yet, think it deserves.

But what can be done? Should IGN and Gamespot just close their comments sections?

Well… Yes, I think they should. They’re clearly not adding any value to the conversation. There’s no sense in trying to make it a “dialogue” between the site and the readers when the comments come at such a pace and in such a volume that it’s impossible for the original writer to engage in discussion with people who actually want to engage in discussion, and in the meantime the braying idiots just get a megaphone with which to bellow their idiotic shit into the void. Shut ’em all off, I say, and leave the discussion to sites with a community small enough to make online interactions actually meaningful; let the big sites become places from which content is just shared and discussed via social media rather than the wretched scum-pits they seem to be becoming today. It’ll put the attention back on the actual writers and the things they’re saying — and it will probably significantly benefit said writers’ mental health, too, because I know I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the torrents of abuse some people have been getting today.

3,512 comments.

Can we reboot the Internet?

[EDIT, June 7, 2023: 22,164 comments. Just in case you were curious.]

1262: Review of Reviews

I’ve been pondering an interesting question with regard to reviews — primarily in the video games medium, but I imagine it also applies to other media too.

That question is the one of who you are writing a review for.

When it comes to an obviously mainstream piece of entertainment, it’s obvious: the review is for everyone, or at the very least the significant majority of people who enjoy mainstream entertainment. When a new Call of Duty or Assassin’s Creed hits the market, that review is aimed at everyone because the game is aimed at everyone. Theoretically, anyway — there’s plenty of room for debate there, but that’s something for another day.

But let’s take something that is obviously more niche interest; something that will obviously only appeal to a very specific set of people. Something that will appeal very strongly to that specific set of people, but which anyone from outside that group of people will not appreciate, for whatever reason. I’m hesitant to give specific examples because I’ve just started playing a game for review that very much falls into this category, and I will likely address this point in said review.

Here’s how I feel I should probably approach this situation, though: I would preface the review with a preamble that explains the things people from outside its target audience may appreciate and/or dislike, and the fact that the remainder of the review is primarily intended for people who do fall into the game/movie/book/whatever’s target audience. This step is unnecessary if you’re writing the review on a site that is specifically aimed at the media’s target audience, since it’s a given; if, however, you’re writing for a more “general audience” site, it’s worth noting, I feel.

The reason I feel it’s worth making this distinction is because of the subjective nature of opinions, and the fact that a “general audience” isn’t a homogenous bunch of people. Rather, said general audience can be subdivided into various smaller groups, each of which has their own interests. Should something be panned just because it’s not universally appealing? Of course it shouldn’t — unless it’s objectively actually broken in some way, it deserves to be given the benefit of the doubt and looked at through the eyes of someone who it’s theoretically “for”. It’s not particularly fair, otherwise; you wouldn’t review a saxophone case and give it one star for your clarinet not fitting in it, for example. Not precisely the same thing, I know; perhaps a more apt comparison would be a classical music magazine giving a dubstep album a low mark for not being classical enough.

This highlights a peculiarity of the games press, though: we’re short on “specialist” outlets. We may have specialist writers working on a single outlet, of course, but with the exception of a few, mostly enthusiast-driven rather than commercial sites, however, a significant proportion of game sites try and cover as much of “everything” as possible. This probably does a lot of games a disservice, to be perfectly honest: games have a perceived level of “importance” that is usually directly proportional to their marketing budget and/or likely sales figures. This can, in some cases, lead to games of “lesser” importance not being given the time and attention they deserve; the most prominent example I can think of this happening is Cavia’s Nier, which received middling-to-low review scores from pretty much every big outlet around, but which is absolutely beloved by people who have played it through from start to finish and engaged with it.

Why the discrepancy? Reviewers are busy; they might not have the time to delve into all of Nier’s sidequests and look at it from the perspective of someone who has the luxury of time to immerse themselves in the world and story. It’s a simplistic explanation, but it’s entirely plausible; in the rush to get that Nier review done before whatever big triple-A title hit that week, it’s entirely believable that some reviewers may not have given it the time and attention it deserved.

I understand. It sucks, but I understand.

Hopefully over at USgamer, since our focus is more on editorial pieces than traditional reviews/previews and the like, we can give these “lesser” games an appropriate degree of care, and subject them to an appropriate degree of criticism rather than making snap judgements. And, to me anyway, that criticism should take into account the game’s target audience; if it’s a game obviously designed for a very specific group of people, how successful it is at reaching that audience — possibly to the exclusion of others — should absolutely form part of its evaluation.

Anyway. I’ve waffled on enough. It’s nearly 1am. I should sleep. Farewell for now.

1085: Don’t (Always) Ignore the Crap

I last wrote about this topic some time ago, so I figure it’s time for a revisit, given what I’ve been playing and enjoying on my PlayStation 3 recently.

My point today is this: you shouldn’t immediately dismiss stuff that is regarded as “crap” because there’s every chance that if you tried it for yourself, you might just find yourself enjoying it. (Note: I’m not saying that stuff regarded as “crap” is always going to end up being good — some stuff we can all agree is shite — but in many cases it pays to go in with an open mind!)

Let’s take Hyperdimension Neptunia as a timely example. Hyperdimension Neptunia received a spectacular 2/10 panning from Eurogamer’s Simon Parkin, by all accounts a well-respected critic whose opinions a large number of people trust. Consequently, a lot of people didn’t even bother to pick it up. This was such an issue that the (apparently considerably superior) sequel only had a limited print run and is now extremely difficult to find a copy of. (I tracked one down from Italy — European console games tend to be in English by default, perhaps with the packaging localised.)

And yet, while I can see its many flaws, I am having a lot of fun with Hyperdimension Neptunia. It’s bright, brash, colourful, silly and rather entertaining despite being the sort of game some people I know would be embarrassed to be seen playing, particularly when the occasional “fanservice” images make an appearance, or every time the character Compa trips over and flashes her panties at the end of a fight. It’s genuinely amusing, though — if deliberately cringeworthy at times — and packed with plenty of things to do. It combines two of my favourite styles of game — visual novel and JRPG — into one package with some really nice features. I love the ability to set custom images on “summon” spells, for example. Seeing the “I HAS A HERB” cat setting off a wind spell never gets old.

Hyperdimension Neptunia is far from the only example of a game which was poorly received but which I have ended up enjoying. In the post I linked to at the top, I mentioned Duke Nukem Forever and Alpha Protocol, both of which endured critical drubbings for various reasons — Duke for its grossout, sexist humour and Alpha Protocol for its broken gameplay aspects and appalling console versions. And yet in both cases — for I played them both to completion — I found myself having fun, being able to look past the flaws or “problematic” material and find an entertaining experience underneath. Am I somehow “wrong” to feel this way?

Well, of course I’m not. Opinions are entirely subjective, after all. I could tell you I found the critically-acclaimed movie Drive to be stultifyingly boring, for example (I did) but that doesn’t stop you from enjoying it, rewatching it a bajillion times or putting it atop your “My Favourite Movies of All Time” list. Likewise, Nier’s heavy reliance on fetch quests and seemingly tedious activities may cause you to switch off completely, while I found the experience to be an interesting example of a game requiring the player to “method act” the role of the protagonist, and found myself playing it obsessively as a result. We both might tell each other about how much we like our respective Things We Like, but it’s unlikely we’ll sway each other around to our way of thinking. And that’s just fine.

The sad thing, though, is the fact that there are people out there who hold a considerable degree of influence over the public’s spending decisions, and their opinion carries an undue amount of weight that might cause some people to miss out on things they might actually like. If Parkin gives Hyperdimension Neptunia 2/10, you better believe that’s going to affect a large number of people’s decisions as to whether they’re going to buy it or not. (Probably the latter in this instance — in the notoriously top-loaded game review score scale, a score of 2/10 is theoretically reserved for an absolute stinker that is completely broken.) How many of those people whose opinion was swayed by Parkin’s review would actually enjoy the game if they gave it a chance? How many people are actually going to give it a chance after reading that review?

The other thing worth mentioning particularly when it comes to titles like Hyperdimension Neptunia and Duke Nukem Forever is the fact that some critics seem to feel obliged to act as arbiters of taste and decency, when in fact everyone’s tolerance for potentially “offensive” content is completely different. Both Hyperdimension Neptunia and Duke Nukem Forever attracted accusations of sexism on their original release to varying degrees of justification — the specifics of which I’m not going to get into right now because that’s a whole other matter, particularly in the former’s case — and these accusations negatively impacted the critic’s view of the game in both instances. That’s fair enough — as I said, everyone’s “good taste” boundaries are different and said critics are entitled to voice those views — but when it comes to interactive entertainment, subject matter is just one part of the whole experience. And more to the point, in all forms of media, enjoying something that contains potentially objectionable subject matter doesn’t imply that the person reading/watching/playing the thing in question is, by extension, a supporter of that particular viewpoint. In other words, you can like anime boobies and still see actual real-life women as actual real-life people. (I say “you” when, obviously, I mean “I”.)

If you enjoy something, you enjoy something; you shouldn’t feel guilt about your own tastes. Unless, you know, your “tastes” involve bludgeoning kittens, puppies and babies to death with a sledgehammer. (In real life, not in video games, obviously.) Or, you know, actively stirring up hate against a specific social group. Or just generally being a dick. Then you should probably feel a bit guilty. Basically, so long as you’re not actually hurting anyone (physically or psychologically) or actively oppressing someone with the things you like, enjoy whatever you want within reason!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to plumb the depths of the bottom half of Metacritic to see what awesome experiences I can find to enjoy next…

#oneaday Day 795: Thick Skin

They say that in order to “make it” in many industries, you need to have a thick skin. To be able to suck it up, take your medicine, be ready for anything. This is particularly true if you do anything that involves facing the public — and especially true if said public is hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet.

I’ve come to the conclusion over the years that I do not have a thick skin. I feel bad if someone disagrees with me and argues their point a little too aggressively. I feel bad if I’m criticised when I don’t feel it’s warranted. And I feel absolutely fucking terrible if someone insults me directly. Basically, I’m a big wuss, and I’ve come to terms with the fact I’m a big wuss, though it doesn’t particularly help me when these situations do inevitably arise at times.

It’s a side effect of various things, really: anxiety, depression, being an introvert. I always like to feel like I’m trying my best at everything I do, and to have something come along and suggest that no, my best might not actually quite be good enough on this occasion can instantly sour my mood, even after a good day. And even if the criticism, argument or insult is clearly complete nonsense. It just feels bad.

My comments on this are prompted by a discussion that @JimSterling was having on Twitter earlier. He noted the following:

Forbes thinks game reviews fail readers because there’s no dissenting opinion. I should tell them what readers *do* to a dissenting opinion. People always blame reviewers being too nice or too close to PR. I think it’s more they don’t want their audience to harass them. We’re in an industry where gamers personally attack people for giving 8/10 scores, but somehow it’s *all* the reviewers’ and PR’s fault. There’s faults and imperfections on *all* sides, but I’m sick of pundits ignoring the bullshit that the game community itself perpetuates.

Jim’s comments brought to mind a particular incident which arose while I was working on GamePro, may it rest in peace. I wrote a news article about a new game which had been produced by students and faculty at an educational institution in America. (I forget which one, and the article is no more, sadly.) Said game was narrative- and character-heavy and was designed to be an in-depth interactive exploration of LGBT issues — a topic area typically shied away from by many developers and seemingly almost completely taboo in the mainstream. (No, I don’t count the nonsensical, ridiculous “gay” content in BioWare’s recent titles which I have a strong suspicion was added purely for marketing purposes. But I digress.)

The game sounded interesting, and I knew from past comments and engagement with the GamePro community that there was a diverse array of people from all backgrounds reading my news stories, so I figured this would be an interesting thing for people to look at — evidence that interactive entertainment was helping to challenge taboos and break down barriers, in short.

The article was reasonably well-received by most commenters, until one thoroughly obnoxious person came along. He’d shot his mouth off a little on the GamePro Facebook page previously, but it was mostly the gibberings of a paranoid madman who believed that debit cards were out to get him. (I’m not making this up.) This time, though, his gibberings got personal. He called me a paedophile, a pervert, a deviant and all manner of other names. He threatened to organise his supposedly huge group of friends (I doubt the honesty of this claim) to do unpleasant things. He harassed me via Facebook, Twitter and the GamePro comments section — or at least he tried to. He got promptly blocked on Twitter and subject to the Ban Hammer I had the satisfaction of wielding both on GamePro.com and its companion Facebook page.

But the damage was done. I was devastated. I’d never had anyone throw such vitriolic, furious, personal attacks at me before. The article itself had nothing offensive in it whatsoever, and it was neither pro- or anti-LGBT, simply noting the existence of an interesting sounding sociological project that involved interactive entertainment. This was seemingly enough to light the fuse, however, and it completely ruined my day at the time.

I should grow a thicker skin, I know, particularly if I want to get anywhere in online media. But I’m just not sure I have it in me. I just want people to be nicer, to be decent human beings. Is that too much to ask?

Perhaps it is. You can’t change human nature, after all, and after many years of observing behaviour on the Internet it’s clear to me that a lot of people turn into complete dicks when provided with the protective shield of anonymity. As someone who was bullied a great deal when I was back at school, I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be for teens these days considering how easy it is to anonymously “cyber-bully” someone.

Or perhaps they’ve just naturally evolved that thick skin I so desperately need over the last decade or two.

Either way, dear reader, go be nice to someone today. And always follow Wheaton’s Law.

#oneaday Day 638: Idiots of the App Store

Everyone knows that you shouldn’t read Internet comments where the public has been allowed to voice its opinions without any filtering. It’s why sensible people avoid looking at 4chan, YouTube comments and App Store reviews. But, like a car crash, sometimes you just can’t look away from these comments sections, no matter how infuriating they might end up being.

I made the mistake of browsing the App Store tonight and perusing a few obviously stupid apps which, inevitably, had rather low ratings. Let’s see what the reviewers had to make of them, shall we?

First up is Mario and Friends. This decidedly copyright-infringing app makes it very clear in its description that it is a soundboard featuring music and sound effects from classic titles such as Mario, Zelda and Sonic. Let’s take a small sample of the reviews:

“This is not a game. Where is my money?” — Cheat11111111

“Please do not buy this app does not work my young grand daughter was so disappointed !!” — ena Sproule

“Thought this was the game what a load of rubbish I mean why wud we want the listen to the music without playing the actual game?? Waist of 69p!!!” — lisa green

“None of the buttons work so it’s impossible to play waste of money” — Al24467

What you’ll see from most App Store reviews of this type are a few consistent features: overuse of exclamation marks, an inability to know when one sentence ends and another begins, and an inability to use the correct homophone.

Let’s take a look at another excellent example: Unlock It! which promises new lock themes for your iPhone and, again, in the description makes it clear that it’s a spoof app, not an actual means of overriding a fundamental way the iPhone works. Here are some choice reviews:

“I was so happy that I would be able to Chang e the lock screen but then it turned out to be a scam! I doesn’t let you change the lock screen! Do not get it! SO UNHAPPY!!” — Kezmatron

“Should’ve read the reviews – this is tripe!!” — Jonzo15a

“Don’t get it.. I was so happy with idea.. Then so upset with the lies that lied deep inside!! C***S!!” — Bleepsound

“This app is a complete con. Do not buy it. It does not have any of the functionality it claims to offer it simply takes a photo which you can save as your background to imitate a security function. Very poor.” — Black and White Army

“A new this app sounded 2 gd to be true” — Dj disco dave

What have we learned from all this? That the sort of person who leaves App Store reviews probably hasn’t read the app description before downloading. This type of person can be regularly seen elsewhere on the Internet indulging in very similar behaviour in other places — commenting on N4G having only read the headline, not the whole article; commenting on a YouTube video without watching the video; commenting on a news story without reading the story; commenting on a Facebook page without looking to see what kind of page it is; and numerous others.

It’s very simple, people. Slow down. Read things. If you’re looking at something, look at it properly. You’ve taken the time to click a link to something or other — why not check it out properly rather than immediately flying off the handle and crying “scam!”/”fake!”/”bias!”/”fanboy!”/”bullshit!” etc.

Ahhh. It’s nice to want things, isn’t it?

#oneaday Day 534: Who’s Buying the Crap?

I’m pretty sure I already knew this some time ago, but I’ve come to the not-so-startling conclusion recently that I’m the one buying the crap games and listening to terrible music and enjoying awful films. It’s not a conscious decision to be contrary, but I do find myself more willing than some to give creative works that have been somewhat maligned the benefit of the doubt — and more often than not actually end up enjoying them.

The first time I recall this happening was one summer when I was home from university. I got very bored and decided that I was going to go to the cinema by myself, just pick a movie that happened to be on, sit down, watch it and attempt to enjoy it. It was partly borne from a desire to prove wrong the unwritten rule that going to the cinema by yourself is somehow shameful (if it is, why is watching a DVD by yourself OK?) and partly just out of a desire to get out of the house.

The movie I went to see? 2 Fast 2 Furious. It was terrible, of course, but I enjoyed it a great deal. And the reason for this was the fact that I didn’t feel “accountable” to anyone — there was no-one with me judging my tastes or making me believe that I should feel a certain way about this piece of entertainment that was bombarding me with nonsense. (“Wow, bro, it’s like a ho-asis in here!”) Judged entirely on its own merits and on whether or not it performed the function I wanted it to at that specific moment in time — to entertain me without making me have to think too much — it succeeded admirably.

More recently, I found similar joy in Duke Nukem Forever. The thing that annoyed me most about the vitriolic reviews scattered around the web was the fact that all the critics seemed to feel somehow “responsible” for their audience, like they had a moral obligation to dislike it because of its more questionable elements or its rough edges. I played it and enjoyed it — genuinely — and was surprised there weren’t a few more people willing to stand up and be counted, saying “look, yes, it is crass, it is rude, it is inappropriate, but for fuck’s sake lighten up.” But that’s by the by — if you found it objectionable, that’s your business, but it doesn’t make me wrong either.

Most recently, the recent Steam sale encouraged me to pick up Alpha Protocol, a game I’ve been curious about for some time. Roundly panned on its release for poor AI, questionable game mechanics and outdated graphics, most people seemed to think it was one to pass by. But for three quid I wasn’t about to let that happen. So far I’ve enjoyed it greatly. I don’t mind that the shooting and the AI isn’t great because I’m not very good at shooters or stealth games. What Alpha Protocol has provided for me so far is a 24-esque espionage plot with action sequences where I at least feel like I’m a badass spy, even if the execution means it’s quite difficult to mess things up, from what I can tell. The key thing about the game is its story, and for that, I’m willing to forgive its flaws — some may say too forgiving.

This is a pattern I’ve continued for as long as I remembered. Back when I bought CDs (oh so many years ago) I tended to purchase music on something of a whim rather than with the charts or peer reactions in mind. I bought things out of curiosity, because I liked the cover art, because I thought the singer was hot. And there’s very few of those decisions I regretted, because it gave me the opportunity to experience some things that many other people might never have been exposed to.

I’m cool with that. It gives me interesting things to talk about when people want to know about obscure games, cheesy music or crap films. Everyone knows Halo and Call of Duty are good. But how many people can vouch for the awesomeness of Doom: The Roguelike?

#oneaday, Day 171: Cracking Down On Crackdown 2 Decracktors

Right, you. Yes, you. The one who’s been saying nasty things about Crackdown 2. Or should I say, all of you who’ve been saying nasty things about Crackdown 2. I’m going to say why I think you’re wrong. I respect your viewpoint, and I still love you, but you’re wrong. Actually, no, that’s harsh. You are, of course entitled to your own opinion. I just happen to disagree with most of the Internet, from the sound of things.

Here’s the deal. Crackdown 2 is an open-world game, but Ruffian themselves have said that they want to distinguish the game’s play style from games such as Red Dead Redemption, Assassin’s Creed 2 and the like. And it’s true. RDR, AC2 and numerous others purport to be open-world games but actually end up having a rather tight, linear mission structure when it comes down to it. This isn’t a bad thing; as everyone knows, linear games are more inclined to have stronger stories since it’s a lot easier to script something when you know your player isn’t going to run off somewhere completely random.

Crackdown 2 takes the complete opposite approach. Yes, there is a flimsy justification for the Agents’ presence in the city. But it’s not intended to be the primary purpose of the game. The primary purpose of the game is nothing more than having fun. Producer James Cope described the experience as being like “playtime at school, running around and shouting BRILLIANT!”—and if you approach the game in this manner, then yes, it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

On top of this, there’s the fact that it is a true example of an open-world game. The whole world is open from the outset. Agents can go anywhere and tackle objectives in any order. Sure, some places will be harder to access without appropriate levelling-up. But it is indeed possible to run off in any direction at the opening of the game and tackle things in any order desired. This is a good thing, particularly for a game built with co-op fun in mind. There’s nothing worse than being stuck with co-op buddies and having to sit through cutscenes and lengthy conversations. When you’re playing with other people, you want to be able to jump straight in. And in Crackdown 2 you can do that.

Then there’s the criticism about the missions all being the same. Sure, the objectives are the same thing over and over again: activate three absorption units, defend a beacon, lather, rinse, repeat. But this means that anyone can jump into anyone else’s game and not feel “left behind” or unclear about what they are supposed to do. What people complaining about this also don’t mention is the fact that part of the challenge that is different each time is navigating the way to the beacon itself. It’s normally hidden underground behind a selection of obstacles which require negotiating. Sometimes working out the best route is an environmental quasi-puzzle in itself.

And then the defense event which occurs while you wait for the beacon to detonate has a considerable amount of variation in the enemies which approach. Sometimes there’ll be swarms of close-combat enemies. Sometimes there’ll be a few ranged enemies. Sometimes there are massive enemies who take one hell of a beating. There’s variety there. Sure, you’re still defending a point against a swarm of enemies. But people do that all the time in Team Fortress 2, Gears of War and Halo and don’t complain. So what’s the problem here? Let’s leave aside the fact that there are also races to complete on foot and in cars, Freak Breaches to close, orbs to collect, audio logs to find and, if you don’t feel like doing any of those things, a limitless swarm of enemies on which to take out your aggression. There are also a wide selection of creative and fun Achievements to attempt and, let’s not forget, a huge and detailed city to explore.

Now, onto the graphics. The one thing that is rapidly starting to grate about this generation of games consoles is the level of obsessiveness over the superficial aspects of games’ presentation it has produced. It used to be that people could appreciate a game even if it had graphics that didn’t look as “good” (and that’s such a subjective term anyway) as titles perceived as “benchmarks”. Now, it seems, if a game doesn’t look as good as Assassin’s Creed 2, it looks “crap”. Crackdown 2 has a distinctive, clean visual style that is light on the detail but heavy on the draw distance. Yes, there are times when the frame rate drops a bit. But it does the important job for an open-world game set in a high-rise city; it has a sense of scale. Crackdown and its sequel are two of the only games I’ve ever played where I’ve felt vertigo—proof if proof were needed that the game is doing its job very ably in representing the size of the city and the Agents’ seeming insignificance within it.

I think the thing that I’m objecting to most, though, is the assertion that the game is “bad”. People are saying that they “hate” the game, that it’s a “failure”, that it “sucks”. But it does what it was supposed to do, which is provide a solid, co-op friendly, bubblegum-pop experience that is fun. Nothing more than that. It’s not trying to be high art. It’s not trying to have a great narrative. It’s not even trying to be hugely different from its predecessor; it’s simply trying to do “the same, but more so”. That does not make it a bad game. Remember Doom II? That was pretty good, right? But do you remember the fact that it only added one new weapon and a handful of new enemies? And yet people still liked it. How about the bajillion military first-person shooters out there? There’s not a lot to distinguish them from each other in many cases. And yet people still play them in their millions without complaint. What about racing games? Arguably the biggest innovators in that genre recently were Split/Second and Blur, both of which suffered very disappointing sales figures. Many gamers prefer the comfortable familiarity of Forza 3 and equivalents, which still follow the same gameplay model that Gran Turismo set thirteen years ago. Yes, thirteen years.

The fact is, despite what I said in the introduction, I’m not saying that people who don’t like Crackdown 2 are wrong. Quite the contrary, in fact. The game is not something which will appeal to everyone; what game is? The thing which has disappointed me about the critical reception to the game is the fact that the subjective “I don’t like this” has become perceived as an objective “This is bad”. The two statements are very different.

The only real way to be sure, of course, is to try the game for yourself. Take it in the spirit in which it is intended; it’s not Dragon Age, it’s not Red Dead Redemption, it’s not Oblivion. It’s Crackdown. It is its own thing. It wants to provide a shallow, entertaining experience that isn’t intended to be taken the slightest bit seriously. And in that respect, it succeeds admirably. It’s not an experience which will appeal to everyone. But that doesn’t mean it should be branded as a bad game. It should be accepted on its own merits. I’d even argue that it shouldn’t be compared to its predecessor.

So if you’re one of the people who has read one of these reviews and thought “Oh… that’s a shame”, because you actually quite liked the idea of a city-sized playground in which to jump around and have fun? I’d encourage you to give it a chance. It’s a vapid whore that just wants your love, and it doesn’t mind if you cheat on it with cleverer games.

So go on. Call her. You know you want to really.