It's been a while since the Space Giraffe kerfluffle where Yak Minter threw a hissy fit in his blog regarding poor scores given to the XBLA psychedelic shooter (and the point where it was compared to Joyce's Ulysses, but I came across an interesting piece recently that talked about Space Giraffe in reference to (wait for it) a piece of literary theory known as 'authorial intent.' The post-structuralist conception is (at least in part) that the critic's will and opinion always supercedes that of the author. What does this have to do with Space Giraffe? Well, it's one way to look at why there was such heated discussion over Space Giraffe:

The collision between the Llamasoft's eccentric design aesthetic and the expectations of entire modern internet did not fall in Minter's favor .... At least a couple of online discussions link to a post on Minter's personal blog where he expresses muted optimism at the game's tepid sales after its launch last summer, and another on the game's official development blog where he angrily rebuffs players (and reviewers) who find the game too difficult or unfriendly to "man up and grow a pair", ranting that the expectation of the modern gamer to encounter some easy tutorial levels followed by a steady-but-gentle difficulty curve is more pandering to the masses than a time-tested refinement in game design philosophy.

This alone paints an interesting portrait of a truly old-school game designer discovering the sort of controversy that would arise only as a result of the almost anachronistic insertion into the XBox Live Arcade catalog that Space Giraffe represents - a brand-new, high-definition, surround-sound game that still somehow feels like it's from 1985. What brings it all around to my thoughts on authorial intent are articles like this one, where Minter insists that Space Giraffe is not a followup to Tempest. Except... it totally is. I put forth that not a single person who has played the original Tempest, and who has had no contact with Minter's own thoughts on Space Giraffe's design, will fail to immediately think "Aha! Tempest!" upon seeing the newer game. Furthermore, even if they like the game enough to stick with it and discover all the ways that it's different - and there are indeed many - they will still consider it a Tempest offshoot.

It's not a particularly long piece, and many may cringe at the collision of literary theory and, uh, gaming, but it's not that often we see such a visceral response from an auteur to critics that stretches out over a period of time.

On Authorial Intent and Space Giraffes [The Gameshelf]

There's a lot of dissatisfaction regarding how games are reviewed coming from a number of quarters; there is an equally vociferous defense of the typical numerically-based reviews. Over at GameSetWatch, Simon Parkin takes up the issue of the reviewer-reader divide, especially in terms of what readers want out of a review (even if they don't know it):

The average reader (even if they don’t know it) is after a complete objective, scientific comparison between game x and game y with data and statistics and, finally, a numerical point on a linear scale by which they can compare, for example, Mass Effect with Rock Band and see which one is empirically better.

Except, of course, video games don’t work in the same way as toasters or digital cameras. Sure, they have mathematical elements and measurable mechanics and it’s possible to compare the number of polygons between this one and that and spin out ten thousand graphs detailing how two specimens compare. But, unlike with the Canon EOS400D, I would have no idea at the end of those 25 pages which game was better or where they would sit on the ‘true’ scale of quality.

On the same issue, the Taipei Gamer proposes a new system that will more evenly balance aesthetic issues that aren't directly related to game play and the interactive elements that are unique to games:

... I am proposing the use of a system which consists of two scores, one measuring the game's excellence from a ludological perspective and the other rating the narrative as it applies to the game. For lack of better terminology I will refer to these as the L-Score and N-Score, respectively ....

The L-Score is the score which is most closely related to the uniqueness of the medium .... Mechanics, systems, and level design are the key components measured by the L-Score.

If the L-Score is a measure of a game's design, then the N-Score is a measure of its artistic achievement. The narrative, in this case, is defined rather broadly. It consists of the game's music, writing, visual style, sound design, overall setting, etc.

I think there are plenty of people who prefer the type of reviews that lend themselves to flash decisions (certainly easier to do when you have a number versus a bunch of text); I don't think the number necessarily needs to go, just perhaps the importance should be mitigated by a different kind of writing.

Video Game Review Scores: Pointless or Pertinent? [GameSetWatch] & Reviewing and Scoring Video Games [Taipei Gamer]

It gives developers feedback, real insights into their game, so they can go back and improve their work. There simply isn’t a way for people to properly explain criticism in the current culture of “I’m not having fun” reviews. Nor is there a way to reward innovation or successful elements of games beyond gushing “I’m having fun” praise. It’s one thing to say you like a game, but figuring out a way to go beyond that gives developers a better understanding of their audiences reaction.

In any case, it's an interesting essay that ties in with a lot of other criticism of the gaming press at large; the other eight parts are also a good read, if you're not scared off by the "Zarathustran Analytics" in the title.

Zarathustran Analytics in Video Games, Part 9: Flaws in Criticism Today [PopMatters via The Brainy Gamer]

... change to the fan sub-culture appears inevitable, but yet so are reactionary responses from the fans. But those responses are soon swallowed up by the progress of the sub-culture on the whole. Given this inevitability, is there reason for concern?

After all, the course of history has already begun to unfold. In the same way we gaming old-timers may look down on PlayStation fanboys (for the record, I'm a Nintendo man), those same gamers who cut their teeth on the PS2 may denigrate the n00bs who are just learning to waggle their Wii-motes. Wilson's critique may in fact stem from his own nostalgia for the good old days before a series of tubes became the internet we now know and love, and flame wars became easier to ignite.

Si, Ceci Est Un Gamer [GameSetWatch]

Less has been written about the defining role television plays in the design and presentation of games, especially sports titles. Long-running franchises like the Links series of golf games have gone by the wayside, largely because their simulation of the sport relied more on playing the game than watching it played.

The market is what it is, but I think the CNN-ization and ESPN-ization of video games comes at a cost. It limits game design to the visual and structural framework of television, and it removes the player from a true simulation experience. I want a video game to offer me something more than a simulated sports broadcast. The more Madden talks, the less like Payton Manning I feel.

What do simulations simulate? [The Brainy Gamer]

The very notion of the "gamer" implies that games are a niche hobby, only for the sufficiently devoted. This exclusivity is exactly what impedes games from attracting a more diverse player base beyond the white adolescent male stereotype.

Given that more and more people are beginning to embrace games, it's finally time to dump the anachronistic "gamer" label. We longtime players of games need not feel sad about this change. Opening games to, well, everybody can only result in a wider selection of genres and ideas.

Maybe it's because I'm part of the even snottier and more exclusive subgroup of 'academia,' or because I think people in general couldn't care less about big important issues beyond what they feel personally impacts them, but I don't really see a problem with 'gamer' or 'gamer' subculture — rather, I don't think the exclusive and/or militant mindset of some people will go away if a label or term is suddenly ditched. The connection between being a passionate gamer and clueless when it comes to politics is rather tenuous at best.

Ceci N'est Pas Une Gamer [GameSetWatch]

The way you've formed the question is the way I think a lot of principled indies approach it — "I want to have integrity, but I also need to get my game out there so people will buy it." This is sort of true, but I think this way of looking at things inherently causes problems. Making money is hard sometimes, and if you convince yourself that you need to make money (in order to eat, or fund the next game, or whatever), then you are automatically on a slippery slope and will start justifying all sorts of things, and eventually you are far from your original ideals but that doesn't seem too bad because you "just had to be realistic".

Do people sometimes go in directions they might not otherwise because they have silly things like food to worry about? Sure. But 'automatically on a slippery slope'? Give me a break. God forbid people should want their job to at least provide basic necessities — how un-indie of them! However, I wasn't really irked until I read his take on Passage, even though he managed to throw the designer a bone after seemingly missing the whole point. It's an interesting interview to read through, even if it did make me hopping mad at points.

Jonathan Blow Says 'Fuck That!' [Gamehelper]

Here's what it comes down to, for me: we argue a lot about what game critics "should" or "shouldn't" do to be worthy of writing their review. But the most important thing in judging a game is to figure out what makes it fun, and then try to enjoy it for what it sets out to do .... Sometimes, you have to stop rushing and just not finish the game in order to actually enjoy the time you spend with it. Other times, if you're driving yourself nuts over one stupid puzzle, it's worth cheating your way around it - which is what a lot of your readers would probably do anyway. In trying to decide if it's "okay to cheat," I'm basically down to my core philosophy: you should just figure out how to have fun with the damn thing. And if you can take that fun and distill it down to a letter grade, you've got yourself a review.

I don't really care if a reviewer cheats on a puzzle or two, but if the game is maddeningly frustrating, it would be nice to have that noted.

Can Game Critics Cheat? [Save the Robot]

Blow attacks World of Warcraft, describing the grind of leveling and the reward system inherent in that as "lying to the players", and even suggests that designers should be ashamed of exploiting illusory level-based mechanics. He argues that games are, like film and literature, becoming a powerful medium in which creators will be able to make choices they can be ashamed of. He wonders whether games as they are currently executed could lead to a "societal problem". Gasps and nervous laughter rises from the audience as Blow delivers his ideas, an audience which reportedly included uncomfortable-looking reps from Blizzard ....

There's more, of course (including going after the 'moral dilemma' of the Little Sisters in Bioshock that has been much discussed), but if it sounds interesting, you can head over to the Braid blog and snag the files.

This week she takes on Portal. For anyone who hasn't finished it or Bioshock yet, there are spoilers ahead. But the comparison she makes between player choice in each game...just read it:

The moment wherein Chell is riding a platform straight into a fire is, oddly, resemblant of the moment in BioShock when the player confronts Andrew Ryan - a protagonist you know nothing about is confronted with a crucial turning point in their self-concept, a person who has been a tool up to this moment has the chance to influence their destiny. But wherein BioShock drew strength from the player's total lack of choice, Portal is illuminated by the sudden ability to make a choice - to use the Portal gun and flee the test course. And just about all of us probably experienced at least a brief moment, on that platform, where we would have ridden straight into that fire because we as gamers have not been trained to feel we have choices, and the sudden advent of realization that you can escape is one of the most exciting, empowering things I've ever felt in a game. in one swift coup you feel sure of yourself, and relinquish all doubt that you are in danger from GLaDOS, and you go from being a computer's favorite toy to being human.

COLUMN: 'The Aberrant Gamer': HUGE SUCCESS_ [gamesetwatch]

As the games industry takes innovative steps to communicate with and involve the wider public in their process, there is a lot that can be learnt from the films industry. It is clear that, just as with films, it is essential that it enables its audiences to feel a sense of ownership of the media they purchase. We can achieve this with transparent and honest communication — be it a blog, podcast or video.

It's nice that people like Joss Wheedon and the actors involved in Firefly were all about 'going to the people,' but writing a book - or making a movie - or designing a game are creative processes that belong to someone else. 'Lack of ownership' has never bothered me when it comes to the media I consume - just because I like it a lot doesn't mean I have any role in it than ponying up cash (and I'm OK with that). Lack of transparent process hasn't stopped a frighteningly rabid fan base from springing up around Square Enix or a million other examples that are probably more representative than Firefly. So, dear Kotaku readers, what do you think? Does transparency in process make any difference to you? Or were those of you who were combing Bungie forums for Halo 3 news going to buy the damn game anyways?

Shaping Your Community: What Films Did, Games Must Do

This game is about expanding your perception. It demands that you learn to see. Most of the reviewers who gave the game low scores, I claim, were too closed-minded; they weren't receptive to this kind of teaching, which the game is obviously telling you it wants to do, if you are quiet enough and listen.

The game could be much clearer about its intentions. There's a tutorial, but it only teaches you the basic game mechanics (and not very clearly, at that). The tutorial never says anything like "this game is going to throw ever-more visual insanity at you, and your job is to make sense of it all". That would have been undesirably heavy-handed, but I know that if Jeff had structured the game so that this intent was somehow clear to the player from the start, there would be many fewer bad reviews.

He goes on to say that maybe Space Giraffe is like James Joyce's Ulysses - a firestorm for controversy, but some people just don't get it. Me? Not a fan of Ulysses, but I'm pretty fond of Space Giraffe.

In which I compare Space Giraffe to Ulysses [Braid via GameSetWatch]

The Addicted Geek ran one of our younger brethren, a 12-year-old gamer nicknamed Minigeek, through the gauntlet of GoldenEye and recorded the boy's responses for posterity. Addicted did it for the sake of testing the supposed "timelessness" of the title, and he was vastly disappointed with the boy's lack of sensitivity for his entrenched nostalgia.

Said the Wee Geekling:

Hah! The singleplayer was one of the worst I have ever played. The storyline seemed latched on and forced, and the level design was terrible - I kept on getting lost! The cluncky graphics didn't help either - if you could call those boxes 'graphics' at all. There were also so many bugs in the game - I got stuck in the stairs, and the way aim is controlled is horrible. I didn't like it anyway. The controls again seemed forced. And as for the AI, it's about the same as the zombies in Crimsonland - 'move towards you and fire - don't care if a wall is in the way - run into wall' and so on and so forth.

Which of course sparked bloody outrage in the comments of the post, where hair-trigger commentators bitched about everything from the boy's suspicious eloquence to his "flawed opinion" (eh?).

Crotchety gamers are becoming as much of an annoyance these days as any other type of snob. A boy who's been fed Thanksgiving dinners cannot be spooned Gerber's Chicken and Peas for the first time and then be expected to clamor for more. The time comes to put away childish things, and stop mistaking nostalgia for value. Eliza gauger

Timeless? [Addicted Geek]

Rock critic Chuck Klosterman asks, in the July '06 issue of Esquire, "Why are there no video-game critics?" In a piece titled 'The Lester Bangs of Video Games', Klosterman rehashes a postulation familiar to any fan of games and games journalism.

Lester Bangs is known for his use of the term "the last of the white niggers," a reference to not only Norman Mailer's essay 'The White Negro', but also, as Wikipedia eloquently sums, a "social miscreant with questionable or objectionable outward idiosyncrasies." It's a term that, ignoring the racial characterization of all involved, could as easily describe the perception of modern gamers by the publishing world at large.

The problem isn't a lack of suitably high-brow game criticism—it's that Klosterman and his peers have placed gamers and game culture in a metaphorical ghetto. They're acting as the very same established cultural stagnancy that critics like Bangs and Kael were bucking.

The fundamental flaw in Klosterman's premise is this: There are plenty of game critics who "[think] about these games in a manner that's human and metaphorical and contextual" (as Klosterman establishes the benchmark for what determines 'real' criticism). However, Klosterman isn't reading them, having lumped all game magazines into a pile he labels "consumer advice." Lumped—and ignored completely.

The very fact that Klosterman can get a column in Esquire writing about a subject area about which he is obviously unfamiliar highlights the real issue: mainstream magazine editors don't know anything about gaming, making it difficult for them to hire game critics worth their salt.

There are other flaws in his reasoning. Klosterman mistakes video games for virtual worlds, using a hypothetical Gone with the Wind scenario: "What if the conversation were sometimes interrupted by a bear attack? And what if all these alternative realities were dictated by the audience itself?" How many games have you played lately had dialogue interrupted by a bear attack? (An unscripted bear attack, at least.)

Like Roger Ebert before him, Klosterman conflates his lack of understanding and familiarity with an entire art form to be a failure of the critics of that art form. Meanwhile, dozens of ably-minded writers are dissecting, analyzing, and contextualizing everything from simple puzzle games to—yes—virtual worlds.

Lester Bangs made his career writing for music magazines. For Klosterman to toss out the entirety of the gaming enthusiast press' work because it shows up in EDGE and not the New Yorker shows only that he's too modest a fan of video games to know where the real magic is happening.

As long as editors of magazines keep printing articles bemoaning the absence of a 'Lester Bangs of game criticism'—an editorial messiah for which erudite gamers have thankfully stopped looking—they'll continue to miss out on all the meaningful games criticism that's happening right now. Joel Johnson

PSP devs must stop making excuses, says Ready At Dawn boss [Games Industry]