OPINION
[i]Editor's note.
This feature began as an opinion piece by me, Tim Smith. I was going to pontificate on the change in reviewing technique from the days when I began reviewing video games in the early 1990s. I said to Mark, “Give me 150 words on what youngsters think, for comparison". He gave me 600 plus.
Having read Mark's input, rather than going on about New Games Journalism versus Old Games Journalism (which let's face it, is as interesting to the average reader as a discussion of tedium versus ennui) I figured that I'd simply hand this Opinion over to Mark. Here is his take on the point of video game reviews...[/i]
The reviewer at his work.
I'm told people used to review things before there was an Internet. Whatever.
The official line on what a review is for is that it informs the reader on the subject of the review and helps them decide whether they should invest their time and/or money in it.
And that's what they're for, to an extent. But it kind of depends where you're looking.
As well as reviewing games for SPOnG, I've been known to write reviews for a lifestyle mag based here in the frozen wastes of the North. I consider that to perform a slightly different function to reviews I write for SPOnG.
Anyone who gets their information on comics from a short section in a lifestyle mag (or most other non-specialist publications) in most cases has, at most, only a casual interest in the medium. If they're a fan, they already got their information online or from
Wizard.
Those reviews are short bursts of information and opinion aimed at pointing someone with a mild interest in a still slightly niche market at the wheat rather than the chaff. I would hope that, from time to time, they encourage people to try something great that they wouldn't otherwise look twice at.
Online reviews from a specialist press, however, are a metal thing of water-breathing creatures. While there's an element of informing going on, those reviews also (and perhaps primarily) serve as part of a dialogue between the writer and the reader.
By the time a AAA game is due out, there's a pretty good chance the reader knows a vast amount about the game in question. They've had access to a huge great heap of official bumpf, screens, trailers, previews, hands-ons, developer diaries and interviews.
Reading a magazine review.
In that situation, the reviewer doesn't have to tell the reader that much about the game beyond some of the more granular details. It's good practice to do it, because you're a pretty pompous twat if you exclude readers who happen to not have spent endless hours pouring over games sites and the odd dead tree, but you won't necessarily need to. And those guys you don't need to spell it out to – there's a good chance they've already checked MetaCritic and, in terms of deciding where to send their sterling, are only interested in the score.
In fact, they've probably already got some kind of opinion on the game. They want to know if the reviewer agrees with them. A lot of people tend to read reviews after they've played the game/read the comic/watched the film/stuffed the dildo up their arse. At the point of reading the review they're looking for someone else's opinion. This opinion should be considered, analytical, eloquent, justified and entertaining – otherwise the reader might as well go straight to a forum, but for a lot of readers it is, in fact, just something to bounce their own thoughts off.
Then they can feed back on it. Instantly. And all of a sudden the review isn't a piece of work that stands in isolation, casting judgement from afar. It's part of a dialogue between the reviewer and the reader and all the other reviewers out there and, if they care to engage in it, the devs, too.
Even if the review's been printed onto a dead tree, it's not exempt from this process. It still gets cited on forums. It may well have its score aggregated into MetaCritic. If someone wants to feed back on it, they can.
The review gets swallowed into the wider discourse made up of a million different voices, feeding their opinions backwards and forwards via keyboards and monitors and phone lines and satellites. Many of those voices may be calling for your head to be shoved through your intestine and fed to your mother because they disagree with the score you gave, but they're just as much a part of the discussion as the reviewer. Lovely democratiser, the Internet, innit?