Why I Don’t Review Games

As I stressed last week, there is a difference between journalism and criticism. Journalism is the pursuit and sharing of truth and knowledge. Criticism is the analysis and evaluation of varying works. Those works, within the context of things this blog is dedicated to, are videogames and will forever be videogames. And still within that context I like to think of myself as a videogame critic.  … Actually, no. Not just within the context of the blog I run.

This is a resolution made public to the entire internet that I, Steven of The Age of Gaming, consider myself and hope to be taken seriously as a videogame critic.

Then what is entailed for being a videogame critic? Everyone has opinions, what is there to say that mine are better than someone else’s? Nothing. There is nothing. I accept and embrace that fact because it means that everyone has a valid right to their opinion and a valid right to express it as they please. Because what is criticism if nothing more than one person’s opinion engaging with another’s?

All opinions are valid yet, differences in how the said opinions are handled matter. Screaming and shouting are not effective methods of expression. Neither is saying nothing. It is with tempered, well-thought and researched speech that opinions can be properly expressed and shared. This is my belief in what separates criticism from standard opinions. These are also the standards in which I will follow.

It is because I focus on criticism that I hereby choose to forgo breaking news reporting and game reviewing. For one thing, it would be impossible for me to keep track and report on the breaking news as it happens. However, I will try to remain topical in my focus. Staying away from reviews so far has been an almost subconscious choice. Every website that accepts pitches for articles always warns that unsolicited reviews will be instantly ignored. That scared me off. Also it is within my personal belief that I could never compete with a review of my own to that of any other publication. So I shied away from reviews. At this time I feel just in making my stance official: The Age of Gaming will not review videogames.

 

When and if I have something to say about a game I will write about it in the format accustom to this blog. Because there are already enough people saying what is good and what is bad, what to buy and what not to; I want to take a step back from that and examine why it is good or why it is bad, where a game succeeds and where it fails. There is often more to learn from a game that does something wrong than one that does everything right. 

I previously wrote a book review of sorts seeing how the book related so strongly to videogames. In the future more game related reviews may present themselves or they may not. Honestly, I am not sure yet. Perhaps I shall rework the format into a long form critique of newer material. Or maybe that is just the definition of review. The future is unknown and shall concern me when it arrives.

I would like to end this post by saying I have no freaking idea where all this formality came from. I want to sound intelligent, but I don’t want to sound like I have stick up my butt. So yeah …. there’s that.  And I would like to say that I don’t do reviews, but I cannot get to a long from critique of every game I play. Because of that I have assembled a short list of every game I have played since starting this blog and no more than two sentences with my thoughts about them:

·         Ico HD Edition – Some of the puzzles could have been better implemented or explained. Built a strong and unique relationship the likes of which I have never seen before.

·         Fallout: New Vegas – Fantastic world with engrossing mythology and excellently implemented. Actual game play could use some work.

·         Journey – I cried. This game made me cry and never would have wanted it another way.

·         Flower – Gives the player an unprecedented freedom of movement that makes you realize how restricting other games are. Really confusing ending.

·         Metro: Last Light – Above average stealth for a first-person shooter along with a strong narrative and world. Actual shooting is just average.

·         Far Cry 3 – I did not finish the game. Killed Vass, but then all my player agency was ruined because of poorly executed narrative and gameplay conceits.

·         The Last of Us – One of the best games I have ever played.

·         God of War HD Edition – I missed you, Kratos. Finding you again brought joy to my life.

·         Borderlands 2 – Fun shooting and leveling, but a weak and drawn out narrative. Also some supposedly funny, but in fact really annoying characters and missions.

·         Spec Ops: The Line – Made me rethink everything I thought I knew about war games and videogames in general. Fantastic.

The Language of Videogames: Part 6 Combined Understanding

Previously I mentioned how the future of videogames lay within ludonarrative resonance, the seamless melding of story and gameplay. The idea was briefly mentioned and championed. Yet, a further look into the realities of how narrative and ludic elements can be combined is needed. To just say they can be without explanation would be incomplete and lacking. To fully comprehend the language of videogames the player must have an understanding of the ludic elements; “win-states”, gameplay and interactivity, as well as the narrative elements; plot, setting, characters. Total fluency amounts from a combined understanding.

After watching the developer commentary on Journey for the first time I was dismayed. The game’s designers, artists and programmers explained how each part of Journey was made. They were all quite proud of the work they had done. Yet I could not accept what was being told to me. I was Dorothy having just seen behind the current. Journey was not the magical, rapturous game that stood as the foremost example of games as art; it was a bunch of men and women behind a fancy screen using cloak and dagger misdirection to make Oz. It ruined part of the experience for me. Of course I always knew that games were made by development teams sometimes ranging into the hundreds of people, but that somehow floated away from my recollection at the time. Here were the people how made Journey explaining that the gameplay worked like this, this art was inspired by this, this level was designed for this reason. They broke the game apart into its individual ludic and narrative elements. I was crestfallen.

Eventually I regained sense of myself and of videogames. When I watched the commentary again I was amazed by the synergy thatgamecompany was able to create with Journey. The ludic and narrative elements of the game work in tandem to create an experience unlike any other offered in videogames. Of course Journey is just a bench mark example of ludonarrative resonance; not perfect, but damn near close. That is because Journey was designed from the beginning with emotion in mind to be the final end goal. The “win-states” in Journey consist of exploration and flight. Both are actions that are intimately tied to joyous feelings. The narrative is one of redemption and rebirth that again builds a strong emotional connection. Journey has very little ludonarrative dissonance because both the ludic and narrative components of the game were designed with the same goal in mind. 

Focused development on the core aspects of the experience is often the best way to avoid ludonarrative dissonance within a videogame. When the entire team is focused on one end goal the total project benefits. The ludic elements of the game must work with each other to further the experience the developer is attempting to make. “Win-states” need to have functioning input from the player to work. Simply put, if the player cannot interact with the game in a constructive way then the “win-states” serve no purpose. A similar manner must be applied to the narrative elements. Story needs to work with art direction and sound design to effectively build a narrative worth exploring through the game play. Finally the two must be merged in a way that benefits both of them. When reading a book, to continue to the next plot point in the story all the reader has to do is turn the page. The action is not very disturbing to the experience at all. However when playing a videogame to progress to the next plot point the player must engage in game world via the ludic elements the developer has designed for the player to use. When done incorrectly the ludic elements can be very disruptive to the narrative and the narrative can be disruptive to the ludic elements. 

When done properly the player should not be able to discern the difference between the gameplay and the narrative portions of the game. A combined understanding of both is necessary for the player to do this. Videogames are a language through which the developer engages with the player.  Just as the developer must put forth to create, the player must put forth to accept. A combined understanding of ludic and narrative elements will make the game experience better. Most ludic elements fostered through the language of videogames can be learned through observation, experimentation and response followed by applied assumptions. I say ‘most’ ludic elements because videogames are still evolving. The language of videogames is in a constant state of expansion and growth. Narratives on the other hand have been around much longer. That is not to say that they have no room to grow, just that they have already been long categorized and explained. Narrative elements such as plot, setting and characters are already well known and understood. The player can be considered fluent in the language of videogames when they have a combined understanding of both ludic and narrative elements of game.

Combined understanding fosters ludonarrative resonance in videogames. The developer must be fluent in the language of videogames to make, write, an experience that the player can then pick up on as someone playing, reading, the game. Engagement between the player and the developer is the basic unspoken pack that all videogames operate on. Both parties expect something from the other for the total experience to work as it was intended. And no matter how fluent either party, developer or player, is the game will ultimately be un-engaging if either one of them does not accept the agreement. Videogames are the developer’s artist and creative expression, the player is there to experience it. True combined understanding is the understanding between developer and player.

The Language of Videogames: Part 2 Observation, Experimentation, Response

The best game worlds are ones that mirror our own. They do not have to be exact but the similarity is enough to make the deliberate differences in design all the more interesting. There is no possible way that in real life a solider could be shot several times and heal themselves by simply taking cover. Yet, regenerative health has become a staple of many modern shooters because it increases the fun factor. These purposeful differences make the game what it is, giving the player a unique way to interact with the game world than they would be able to with the real world.

To a large number of gamers already well versed in the language of videogames spotting and using these differences are easy. They are part of play. It is their purpose to be used, abused and exploited for the purpose of the game. I have deliberately just waited in a corner and killed the infinitely respawning enemies exploiting the game’s A.I. by refusing to trigger the next section of game play. Most gamers, myself included, are fluent in the language of videogames. By now it is second nature to pick up a game and with little effort understand how it works. Yet, that is not always the case.

Allow me to return to my friend playing Journey. In the very beginning of the game the red cloaked traveler is sitting in the sand. A control prompt appears on screen indicating to tilt the controller to the left. My friend does so and is impressed as the game world pans around to the left for her to see. The same thing happens as she tilts to the right. Then to my confusion, she holds the controller upright, face buttons to her, and pushes forward. The game does absolutely nothing. 

“Why did you do that?” I ask.

“Well, if moving the controller left makes it go left and right makes it go right intuitively I would think pushing the controller forward would make it go forward,” is her response.

“That’s not how it works,” I tell her.

“Well I haven’t played before the game before. I don’t know the controls,” she says a little defensively. Luckily, another on screen prompt tells her to push the left analog stick. The traveler gets up and starts walking. 

For a while after my mind raced. ‘How could she do that? How could she not understand? Left stick is always move.’ I was just beginning to scrape the edges of this idea: that videogames are a language. My friend does not play a lot of games. Journey was a new experience for her. The things I took for granted as understood she still had to learn. I was quick to jump to conclusions passed on irrational gamer passion. ‘She’s just a sucky player.’ And I was wrong. It is not her skill set that is lacking, it was her understanding. By holding the controller parallel to her and pushing it forward she engaged in the first step of learning the language of videogames: observation, experimentation and response.

If that three word set sounds strikingly familiar to the scientific method we have all be taught in school that’s because it is. The first step in learning the language of videogames is not specific to videogames. All types of learning share this same fundamental step. First by observing the environment and taking in stimuli found there an assumption of action can be made. A baby sees its parents walking on two legs and thinks that it should as well. A first time student in a Spanish class hears all the other students saying “Hola” and assumes he should as well. My friend tilts the controller seeing that the camera pans with it and believes that the movement input must also be within controller movements. That assumption is then tested and experimented in the environment of observation. The baby attempts to balance and put one foot in front of the other. The student says “Hola” when he passes the teacher’s desk. My friend pushes the controller forward hoping the traveler will move. Finally, a response to the experimental action is recorded. The baby takes one step and then falls. The student receives a “buen trabajo” from the teacher. The game does nothing, the traveler is left sitting in the sand and my friend is dismayed. The ultimate step is to make this a cycle where the response is recorded as a new observation to be factored into the next experiment. The baby hopes to take two steps next time. The student plans to use more Spanish in the future. My friend adjusts her input to the game to derive the desired outcome. 

It is a fundamental cycle of learning that applies just a well to videogames as to any other medium. Videogames are a language that must be learned. That day with Journey has increased my friends understanding. She is still far from fluent, but the basics are becoming known to her. As a gamer it is easy to accept these things, looking over the fact that we too once had to learn how to play a game. Interactions in a world exactly like our won apply by all the same rules that govern our own world. The simple act of living as a human being has taught us these rules. But in a game world, one that mirrors our own with purposeful differences for play  mechanics, those rules do not always apply in the same manner. We must learn again how to interact with that world. The same principles that a child uses to learn to walk are the same ones that we as players use to take our first steps into the world of a videogame.