"When you talk about the martial arts [videogame] genre, you have these stories about guys who can shoot fireballs. In my experience, never once have I seen a person throw a fireball."
-Martial artist and video game enthusiast Way Yin Yuen, on the realism of today's fighting games
From today's New York Times
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
The Best of What's Around
Ten bonus "coolness points" if you recognized the headline as a song title.
Anyway, just to prove I'm not a bitter, negative crank towards videogame journalism all the time, I thought I'd take this post to point out some of the better examples of videogame writing I've seen recently.
The first is an interview with GameSpot's Brian Ekberg that ran on NPR's Morning Edition last week. The subject was NFL Madden 2005, a game that Morning Edition host Steve Inskeep gamely tried to play for the first time on the air, with Ekberg's help.
Now, I'm a little biased because I spend eight hours a day working for NPR's communications divison, but I'd like to think I'd enjoy this piece even if I had never heard of NPR. The outsiders perspective Inskeep brings to the interview is a welcome respite from the predicatably jaded been-there, done-that coverage that most videogame outlets give to Madden games. Be sure to listen to the piece all the way through to the end; the sounds of that desperate touchdown run are priceless.
Next we have an article on game sequels in Monday's New York Times that was sent to me by a few readers (thanks to all of you, by the way). While I am getting a little tired of the endless comparisons between the videogame and movie industries, I feel this one is pretty apt. The article itself is full of the kind of data and quotes that can make a reader care about an issue they may not have considered before, and it manages to cover both sides of the issue well.
Amidst all the PSP and Nintendo DS stories popping up around the Tokyo Game show this week (look for more on those next week, by the way), I came across a surprising little analysis piece over at PlanetGameCube. While the site could have gotten by posting the Nintendo-generated sheet by itself, they went the extra mile by adding some explanatory commentary to the technical details. In doing so they add important context for readers that might not know how good "256 x 192 pixel resolution" actually is.
And finally, I was a little tickled by a recent article on yet another PSP press conference over at GamesIndustry.biz. The article itself is pretty standard, but one line in particular made me smile:
"We won't announce the price of the PSP today," Kutaragi told the assembled hacks yesterday ..." (emphasis added)
Just between us hacks, that's not usually how we refer to each other. But if the shoe fits...
Anyway, just to prove I'm not a bitter, negative crank towards videogame journalism all the time, I thought I'd take this post to point out some of the better examples of videogame writing I've seen recently.
The first is an interview with GameSpot's Brian Ekberg that ran on NPR's Morning Edition last week. The subject was NFL Madden 2005, a game that Morning Edition host Steve Inskeep gamely tried to play for the first time on the air, with Ekberg's help.
Now, I'm a little biased because I spend eight hours a day working for NPR's communications divison, but I'd like to think I'd enjoy this piece even if I had never heard of NPR. The outsiders perspective Inskeep brings to the interview is a welcome respite from the predicatably jaded been-there, done-that coverage that most videogame outlets give to Madden games. Be sure to listen to the piece all the way through to the end; the sounds of that desperate touchdown run are priceless.
Next we have an article on game sequels in Monday's New York Times that was sent to me by a few readers (thanks to all of you, by the way). While I am getting a little tired of the endless comparisons between the videogame and movie industries, I feel this one is pretty apt. The article itself is full of the kind of data and quotes that can make a reader care about an issue they may not have considered before, and it manages to cover both sides of the issue well.
Amidst all the PSP and Nintendo DS stories popping up around the Tokyo Game show this week (look for more on those next week, by the way), I came across a surprising little analysis piece over at PlanetGameCube. While the site could have gotten by posting the Nintendo-generated sheet by itself, they went the extra mile by adding some explanatory commentary to the technical details. In doing so they add important context for readers that might not know how good "256 x 192 pixel resolution" actually is.
And finally, I was a little tickled by a recent article on yet another PSP press conference over at GamesIndustry.biz. The article itself is pretty standard, but one line in particular made me smile:
"We won't announce the price of the PSP today," Kutaragi told the assembled hacks yesterday ..." (emphasis added)
Just between us hacks, that's not usually how we refer to each other. But if the shoe fits...
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Secret Gamer Kyle-X on Hiding Behind pseudonyms
When I first started reading Electronic Gaming Monthly back in 1992, two of my favorite features of the magazine were rumor-mongering Quartermann and mysterious reviewer Sushi-X. Despite not knowing who they really were, I felt connected in a way to these characters through their writing (and through the mysterious pictures of both that sometimes showed up inEGM).
Imagine my surprise, then, when I recently found out both Sushi-X and Quartermann didn't exist!
Well, they did exist, technically. But, according to on-again off-again EGM writer Chris Johnston, their columns were not authored by one person, as I had previously believed. Turns out that after the original creators of these characters got tired or moved on, other staff writers would simply take turns writing their columns. Shocking!
This got me thinking about the role that pseudonyms in particular and anonymity in general have had on the video game journalism industry. There are many different ways not to put your full name on an article, and I'm against almost all of them. Here are some examples, and why I don't like them:
Imagine my surprise, then, when I recently found out both Sushi-X and Quartermann didn't exist!
Well, they did exist, technically. But, according to on-again off-again EGM writer Chris Johnston, their columns were not authored by one person, as I had previously believed. Turns out that after the original creators of these characters got tired or moved on, other staff writers would simply take turns writing their columns. Shocking!
This got me thinking about the role that pseudonyms in particular and anonymity in general have had on the video game journalism industry. There are many different ways not to put your full name on an article, and I'm against almost all of them. Here are some examples, and why I don't like them:
- GamePro's emblematic character-reviewers. I remember enjoying the antics of "Scary Larry," "Dan Electro," "Dr. Zombie" and the rest of the crew back in the day. I even have fond memories of the occasional comics that would feature the characters. Of course, I subscribed to GamePro when I was between 10 and 12 years old. Now I find the characters childish and a little insulting.
How am I supposed to take a review seriously when it's "written" by someone who hides behind a cartoon image? Furthermore, given the pseudonym's potential portability between authors (see above examples of Quartermann ans Sushi-X), I can't even be sure that two different reviews by "Dr. Zombie" are actually by the same person. This become a problem if I want to compare different reviews by the same reviewer to gauge their interest. - Unsigned articles: Sites like Blue's News and Spong often post articles without any attribution. When an article is written anonymously, the true source of the information is left totally to the reader's imagination. At the very least, it makes it look like the publication doesn't fully value the contributions of their writers, or that the writing is a conglomeration of thoughts from the entire staff (in which case the article should be signed "staff"). At the worst, it makes it look like the articles are written directly by a PR person, or simply pieced together from other reports.
As ludicrous as some of these suggestions might be, an article without a byline leaves them all available in the eyes of the reader. Some sort of indication of authorship is neccessary in almost every case to let the reader know who is talking to them. - Web handles: Slashdot, Evil Avatar, and many other blog-like sites often let users post news items using internet handles instead of real names. The problem with handles is they make the writer look like a fanboyish message board poster rather than a serious person that deserves the reader's respect. When I see a bit of writing by someone named "Karl The Pagan," I don't expect any award-winning journalism. A real name immediately makes the author seem more real and more reliable to the reader.
- Game Informer's hidden last names: I just noticed this recently, but the editorial crew in Game Informer are identified primarily by their first names. You have to squint at the tiny type in the sidebar to find the full names, while the first names appear in big type next to the pictures on the Staff page and under each review. To me, this comes off as a little too personal for a professional magazine, but it's not a horrible transgression. Still, I think a well-publicized last name is a sign of respect to the author and an important connection for the reader.
- GMR's Game Geezer: I've only read a few issues of GMR, but the Game Geezer columns and their grizzled writing style stand out in my mind. While I like the humor and tone of the articles, I can't eliminate the feeling that the Game Geezer, like Quartermann and Sushi-X, don't really exist. Back in the days of Game Players magazine, Bill Donohue managed to inhabit his own grizzled persona, The Jaded Gamer, without hiding the his true identity. I suggest GMR do the same.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Take That, GamePro
Anyone who thinks that no one could be more bitter about the state of videogame journalism than me might change their tune when they read Brian Hook's recent evisceration of GamePro on his always worth reading site, Book of Hook. I'm not GamePro's biggest fan, but even I think that Hook's summary opinion of the magazine -- "gaudy, short, poorly organized, and empty of real content" -- is harsh. Then again, I haven't seen the issue he's talking about, and he does make some good arguments for why GamePro isn't, in general, worth your time. But did he have to be so mean about it?
In other news, yours truly has taken on a part-time, paying gig as the newest blogger on Weblogs Inc.'s Playstation 3 and Xbox 2 blogs. Basically I troll the web for any tidbit of news about either system and post a summary, along with my comments, for all to see.
Those with long memories might remember that I railed against this very type of writing early in the history of the Ombudsman. Obviously I don't feel quite as strongly about it anymore. Now, I feel such link-and-quote journalism is ok as long as the author doesn't pass off the work as their own, and can use their expertise to provide context and interesting opinion wherever possible.
Did I mention they're paying me to do this?
In other news, yours truly has taken on a part-time, paying gig as the newest blogger on Weblogs Inc.'s Playstation 3 and Xbox 2 blogs. Basically I troll the web for any tidbit of news about either system and post a summary, along with my comments, for all to see.
Those with long memories might remember that I railed against this very type of writing early in the history of the Ombudsman. Obviously I don't feel quite as strongly about it anymore. Now, I feel such link-and-quote journalism is ok as long as the author doesn't pass off the work as their own, and can use their expertise to provide context and interesting opinion wherever possible.
Did I mention they're paying me to do this?
Sunday, September 19, 2004
A Note About The Name
Some people might think it's pretty pretentious for me to declare myself an ombudsman for an entire industry that didn't ask for any help or give me any endorsement. Those people would be right.
A real ombudsman acts as a reader representative, handling complaints and trying to find satisfactory solutions. It's a full time job that involves monitoring the news for accuracy and balance.
What I do occasionally resembles this, but most often it's not even close. A large majority of my posts represent my opinion and only my opinion. As the subtitle of this blog suggests, it's mainly a videogame journalims review. Sometimes this means reviewing for accuracy, but most of the time it's simply reviewing for quality.
Why am I not more like a real ombudsman? Part of it is access. Since I don't actually work for any of these organizations I'm writing about, they don't have to answer my questions or the questions of my readers. Another reason is time. I have a full-time job and a budding freelance career and a life outside of this blog, so I don't always have as much time as I'd like to cover every angle of some of these stories. If either of these seem like a cop out, that's probably because they are, to an extent.
So if I've just admitted I'm not really an ombudsman, why the name? To tell you the truth, when I started this thing over a year ago, I just thought it was a cool, slightly relevant name for a videogame journalism blog. By the time I realized that readers were taking it as a pretentious misrepresentation, I had too much invested in the name to just change it on the spot. (This also explains why Video Game is two words in the title when I now consider it only one word in most writing. This might change, though).
So the name will stay, for now. I am thinking of a new subtitle, though. The Video Game Ombudsman: Not really an ombudsman. Whaddya think?
A real ombudsman acts as a reader representative, handling complaints and trying to find satisfactory solutions. It's a full time job that involves monitoring the news for accuracy and balance.
What I do occasionally resembles this, but most often it's not even close. A large majority of my posts represent my opinion and only my opinion. As the subtitle of this blog suggests, it's mainly a videogame journalims review. Sometimes this means reviewing for accuracy, but most of the time it's simply reviewing for quality.
Why am I not more like a real ombudsman? Part of it is access. Since I don't actually work for any of these organizations I'm writing about, they don't have to answer my questions or the questions of my readers. Another reason is time. I have a full-time job and a budding freelance career and a life outside of this blog, so I don't always have as much time as I'd like to cover every angle of some of these stories. If either of these seem like a cop out, that's probably because they are, to an extent.
So if I've just admitted I'm not really an ombudsman, why the name? To tell you the truth, when I started this thing over a year ago, I just thought it was a cool, slightly relevant name for a videogame journalism blog. By the time I realized that readers were taking it as a pretentious misrepresentation, I had too much invested in the name to just change it on the spot. (This also explains why Video Game is two words in the title when I now consider it only one word in most writing. This might change, though).
So the name will stay, for now. I am thinking of a new subtitle, though. The Video Game Ombudsman: Not really an ombudsman. Whaddya think?
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Happy New Year
Today's update has been postponed for celebration of the Jewish new year. Guess this means I can't use Christmas and Easter as an excuse, eh? I'll try to write something up for tomorrow. Until then, just re-read a random post from the archives and pretend it's new.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
A Review, As A Matter Of Fact
Thanks to Ombudsman reader Sally Jacques for writing in to ask "what your stance on what mags should do when the person who is responsible for an article is proved totally wrong."
Sally pointed me to a thread on the Official XBox UK Magazine (OXUKM) forums as way of example. Seems that the magazine recently ran a review for Headhunter: Redemption developed by Amuze and published by Sega. The thread, purportedly by two Amuze developers, points out some factual errors with the review:
In your review of Headhunter Redemption (Issue 34, October 2004), you claim that cut scenes "can't be skipped... Grrr!" This is incorrect: all cut scenes in the game are skippable. Grrr, indeed.
More mysteriously, you conclude your review by stating that "the odd bike chase succeeds in breaking up the on-foot action." There are no biking sequences in Headhunter Redemption: a fact that would be apparent to anyone who had actually played the game.
First of all, let me say that I have not verified that (a) these statements were printed in the review, (b) the statements in the review were false or (c) the original posters are actually Amuze employees. That being said, I have no reason to doubt any of these things given the corroborating statements in the rest of the thread and a similarly worded posting on Amuze's web site. While these facts are central to this specific dispute, they are not relevant to the more general question of how to handle apparent factual errors in reviews.
Later in the OXUKM thread, the author (or someone claiming to be him) responds to the charges:
As for factual inaccuracies, things seem to have been taken out of context.
I stated that cut-scenes couldn't be skipped because, in the review code we were sent, no amount of Start / A / any button pushing could skip the cutscenes.
And as for mentioning the bike sections, again I was referring to the cutscenes.
This defense highlights the two (or three?) main ways that I can envision factual errors getting into a review: versioning discrepancies and author sloppiness/duplicity.
A versioning discrepancy (i.e. a difference between review code and final, released code) is an unavoidable side effect of top-heavy game development schedules and bottom-heavy magazine publishing schedules. As I have said before, I feel that videogame reviews based on unreleased code should clearly state that they are based on an early version of the game. If, when the game comes out, the early review turns out to be inconsistent with the final product, a correction should be published at the earliest possible convenience.
Sometimes, as in this case, the correction would be relatively minor ("It turns out the cutscenes are skippable... whoops"). Other times, the changes to the game and the review may be substantial, even necessitating a change in overall opinion or scoring ("What was a buggy, badly conceived game three months ago turned out to be sufficiently playable upon release.") Either way, the correction should be prompt and easy for readers to find. (On a small side note, I specifically remember Game Players magazine handling minor corrections like these quite amusingly in their letters section with threats of violence to the offending author.)
In the case of author sloppiness (i.e. an author writing things about a game that are just wrong) there might be bigger issues at stake. In this case, I find it hard to believe that the bike chases which the author allegedly said, "succeed in breaking up the on-foot action," were actually in cut scenes. First of all, the language clearly implies that the bike chases are a part of gameplay the breaks up other parts of the gameplay. Secondly, Amuze claims that there are no bike chases in any of the game's cut scenes (again, this is all unconfirmed, but I have been given no reason to doubt it).
Sometimes, a factual error like this, especially a small one, could be chalked up to simple confusion on the part of the reviewer. No two gameplay experiences are exactly alike, and it's possible that a specific set of circumstances in a reviewers playing of a game might lead him or her to perceive something that isn't really true. It's hard to come up with an example of this that doesn't sound too contrived, but it is a possibility.
The other possibility, that the reviewer didn't actually play the game, is much more serious. With the amount of easy information available from press releases and previews, it's all too easy to completely fabricate a review of a game based on no play time. Factual errors like these could be a major red flag that such fabrication is occurring, especially if the language can be traced back to earlier material that was also proven false. In this case, a May 12, 2003, press release for the Headhunter: Redemption lists "lightning-fast motorcycle thrills on futuristic highways" as a feature, making the motorbike comment especially suspect.
In cases like this, it's up to the editor to talk to the author and further investigate whether the review represents sufficient time spent with the game (how much time is "sufficient" to review a game is a much larger topic for another time). If it's found that an author misrepresented their work, then a formal apology to the readers and a second review of the game are probably in order. Disciplinary action against the author should be left to the editor's discretion.
But be careful here. It's very easy to accuse an author of not having played a game, especially if they write a review you don't agree with. Such accusations fly around internet message boards all the time. But a simple difference of opinion is rarely enough to prove that someone wrote a review without playing a game. Factual errors and suspiciously similar language are among much more reliable methods for determining misrepresentation.
So, to sum up, how to deal with factual errors depends on their cause and their size. If the case of small, honest mistakes, all that's necessary is a correction. In the case of larger, suspicious errors, further investigation and action by an editor might be necessary. Hope that answers your question, Sally.
Sally pointed me to a thread on the Official XBox UK Magazine (OXUKM) forums as way of example. Seems that the magazine recently ran a review for Headhunter: Redemption developed by Amuze and published by Sega. The thread, purportedly by two Amuze developers, points out some factual errors with the review:
In your review of Headhunter Redemption (Issue 34, October 2004), you claim that cut scenes "can't be skipped... Grrr!" This is incorrect: all cut scenes in the game are skippable. Grrr, indeed.
More mysteriously, you conclude your review by stating that "the odd bike chase succeeds in breaking up the on-foot action." There are no biking sequences in Headhunter Redemption: a fact that would be apparent to anyone who had actually played the game.
First of all, let me say that I have not verified that (a) these statements were printed in the review, (b) the statements in the review were false or (c) the original posters are actually Amuze employees. That being said, I have no reason to doubt any of these things given the corroborating statements in the rest of the thread and a similarly worded posting on Amuze's web site. While these facts are central to this specific dispute, they are not relevant to the more general question of how to handle apparent factual errors in reviews.
Later in the OXUKM thread, the author (or someone claiming to be him) responds to the charges:
As for factual inaccuracies, things seem to have been taken out of context.
I stated that cut-scenes couldn't be skipped because, in the review code we were sent, no amount of Start / A / any button pushing could skip the cutscenes.
And as for mentioning the bike sections, again I was referring to the cutscenes.
This defense highlights the two (or three?) main ways that I can envision factual errors getting into a review: versioning discrepancies and author sloppiness/duplicity.
A versioning discrepancy (i.e. a difference between review code and final, released code) is an unavoidable side effect of top-heavy game development schedules and bottom-heavy magazine publishing schedules. As I have said before, I feel that videogame reviews based on unreleased code should clearly state that they are based on an early version of the game. If, when the game comes out, the early review turns out to be inconsistent with the final product, a correction should be published at the earliest possible convenience.
Sometimes, as in this case, the correction would be relatively minor ("It turns out the cutscenes are skippable... whoops"). Other times, the changes to the game and the review may be substantial, even necessitating a change in overall opinion or scoring ("What was a buggy, badly conceived game three months ago turned out to be sufficiently playable upon release.") Either way, the correction should be prompt and easy for readers to find. (On a small side note, I specifically remember Game Players magazine handling minor corrections like these quite amusingly in their letters section with threats of violence to the offending author.)
In the case of author sloppiness (i.e. an author writing things about a game that are just wrong) there might be bigger issues at stake. In this case, I find it hard to believe that the bike chases which the author allegedly said, "succeed in breaking up the on-foot action," were actually in cut scenes. First of all, the language clearly implies that the bike chases are a part of gameplay the breaks up other parts of the gameplay. Secondly, Amuze claims that there are no bike chases in any of the game's cut scenes (again, this is all unconfirmed, but I have been given no reason to doubt it).
Sometimes, a factual error like this, especially a small one, could be chalked up to simple confusion on the part of the reviewer. No two gameplay experiences are exactly alike, and it's possible that a specific set of circumstances in a reviewers playing of a game might lead him or her to perceive something that isn't really true. It's hard to come up with an example of this that doesn't sound too contrived, but it is a possibility.
The other possibility, that the reviewer didn't actually play the game, is much more serious. With the amount of easy information available from press releases and previews, it's all too easy to completely fabricate a review of a game based on no play time. Factual errors like these could be a major red flag that such fabrication is occurring, especially if the language can be traced back to earlier material that was also proven false. In this case, a May 12, 2003, press release for the Headhunter: Redemption lists "lightning-fast motorcycle thrills on futuristic highways" as a feature, making the motorbike comment especially suspect.
In cases like this, it's up to the editor to talk to the author and further investigate whether the review represents sufficient time spent with the game (how much time is "sufficient" to review a game is a much larger topic for another time). If it's found that an author misrepresented their work, then a formal apology to the readers and a second review of the game are probably in order. Disciplinary action against the author should be left to the editor's discretion.
But be careful here. It's very easy to accuse an author of not having played a game, especially if they write a review you don't agree with. Such accusations fly around internet message boards all the time. But a simple difference of opinion is rarely enough to prove that someone wrote a review without playing a game. Factual errors and suspiciously similar language are among much more reliable methods for determining misrepresentation.
So, to sum up, how to deal with factual errors depends on their cause and their size. If the case of small, honest mistakes, all that's necessary is a correction. In the case of larger, suspicious errors, further investigation and action by an editor might be necessary. Hope that answers your question, Sally.
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