The Need for a New Review System
The first problem with video game reviews is how they “rate” the games. Consider the fact that there are so many different scoring systems – five point scales, ten point scales, 100% scales. Which is more accurate? The five-point scales started using point-five scores to be more accurate, while the 10 point scales use any tens decimals. How much better is a 9.3 game than a 9.0? Also, what do these numbers even mean? For each site or magazine, these values differ. On one site, a 5/10 may mean a 50%, which may be an “F”, meaning that the game is terrible. On another site, a 5/10 means that the game is average. After the reader determines what a given score means, yet another question emerges. How did the reviewer even come to such a number? A rating such as “9.4” is quite specific, so surely there must be some clever formula employed by the reviewer to come to that number? Who knows, and who has time to find out?
The next, and more important problem with video game reviews is that they’re entirely subjective, i.e. based on the opinion of the writer. The reader, in considering the reviewer’s personal slant, is not privy to the numerous factors that may have influenced that opinion. In fact, the writer may not be fully aware of these factors. One issue is that of standards. A reviewer will automatically – either consciously or subconsciously – rate a game based on others of the same genre, or with comparable features. This prevents the game from being given a fair evaluation on the basis of its own merits. I have even found myself guilty of this behavior from time to time, most recently in my former opinion of Final Fantasy X.
The Final Fantasy series, in one way or another, has been recognized as a trendsetter, or amongst the mainstream gaming public, a template upon which other games are to be judged. While this places tremendous pressure on any non-FF game, it places even greater pressure on every subsequent installment of the series itself. It is expected that each game surpass its predecessor in some way, be it graphically, in terms of gameplay innovations, or presenting a more engaging storyline. You’ll see debates on countless online forums comparing one Final Fantasy to another, which is ironic, since the developers claim their goal is to make each game a new experience.
So, albeit subconsciously, when I first played Final Fantasy X, I was comparing it to previous games I enjoyed, like VI, VII, and IX. If it didn’t “fulfill the quota” for the kind of impact those games had on me, then it was automatically in the hole. Final Fantasy X’s story, while adequate, did not “move” me as did some of its predecessors, and thus were its other more notable features overshadowed. I became overly critical of the game, not taking the time to recognize it for its considerable merit. Interestingly enough, when I replayed the game, judging it independently of my usual strict criteria, I enjoyed it quite a bit. This brings up another issue – precedence – which will serve as the foundation of this new review system.
For every player, a game’s features are prioritized differently. Take RPGs for instance. Most tried and true fans of the genre will tell you that story is by far the most important element of any RPG. If the story doesn’t meet their standards, then they’ll probably dismiss the game as below average. At the same time, they’re bitingly critical of people who place graphics above story, because that is not what RPGs are about, after all. That, however, is the problem. A game’s features are not prioritized at all times with respect to its genre or in any particular way in general. Every game is different, as is the aim of each developer in creating them.
To elaborate upon this point, I will introduce two extreme cases: Monolith Soft’s Xenosaga, and Level 5’s Dark Cloud 2. Anyone who has played Xenosaga can clearly see that the focus of the game was meant to be its story and presentation (which includes graphics and music). In that Xenosaga was composed of nearly equal parts cinema and interactive portions, an oddity in gaming for certain, it was clear that the developers expected the story and presentation to carry the game. If a player understands and accepts this going in, they are less likely to be disappointed by the game’s somewhat rudimentary play mechanics.
On the opposite side of the spectrum, so to speak, we have Dark Cloud 2 – an RPG by anyone’s definition – yet one that is rather sparse in terms of storyline. As per the standards of the genre, this should break the game. However, Dark Cloud 2 has such deep and diverse gameplay, i.e. so many different things to experience, that the story actually takes a back seat – to the point of being almost irrelevant. The battle system, the item customization, the mini-games, the graphics, the voice acting – all of these were arguably top notch, yet it’s doubtable that anyone would revere the storyline as anything groundbreaking. It was sufficient, however, and at the same time unassuming, that is, it was clear throughout the game that Level 5 was not setting out to build the next great work of interactive literature.
So here we have two games, both of the same genre, but so completely different in terms of their “focus” that they can’t even be compared to one another. Xenosaga clearly has the better story of the two, while Dark Cloud 2 has the better gameplay. So, which one is better overall? That judgment simply cannot be made. The current review systems used by magazines and online publications, however, would have you think differently. All games are rated on the same scales, thus implicitly saying that the game with the higher score is better. In an age when games are diversifying greatly, even within their own respective genres, these systems are obsolete. As mentioned, different developers have different aims as they put together their games, different ways they intend for their product to impact the players. Therefore, games should be judged on how well they accomplish what the developer intended, not how well they live up to a set of generic standards.
This calls for a new system, one that abolishes scores altogether, but rather breaks down games with respect to their focus. A pie graph could be used to represent which aspects of the game take precedence. As an example, let’s take Dark Cloud 2, and divide its graph amongst four categories: Gameplay/Presentation/Sound/Story (Keep in mind that an actual chart would take more attributes into consideration). DC2 would probably be represented as: 50/25/15/10. This breakdown would not imply that the game was lacking in any of these categories, but simply that it seemed that the developer intended to have the greatest impact on the player via gameplay. After seeing this graph, some hypothetical player who prioritizes graphics above everything may check out some screenshots or movies of the game. Let’s say the graphics impress him. As he decides to play the game, simply because of its aesthetic appeal, he may also be glad to know in advance that there is even more to look forward to in terms of gameplay.
As this system was being devised, there was one immediate and obvious problem. How can a reviewer determine which of the game’s features is to be given precedence, or know what the developer intended? If story is more important to that reviewer, and a given game’s plot doesn’t appeal to him or her, then they may allocate only a small sliver of the pie graph. In turn, this may deter a player who also places story above all else, but also appreciates killer gameplay – which this game just may have. This again makes the review subjective, influenced by the writer’s own personal bias. So how can the pie graph be created in the most objective manner possible? The figures would come from the developers themselves.
If asked to rate their game, of course their slant would be in its favor, and would not be an unbiased assessment. However, asking the developer to prioritize the games features, they are more likely to paint an accurate picture. As much as they may want to say that everything about their game is great – and it may be – some features were designed to take the forefront in terms of impacting the player as they intended. What in particular do they want gamers to notice? Those features will receive a greater representation on the pie graph.
Someone may wonder, then what is the role of the reviewer? It is their job to paint a picture of the game as objectively as possible, simply listing the game’s features as someone may list specs for a computer. Just as a person may opt for a smaller hard drive but more RAM between two computers with the same price, a gamer may choose to purchase a game that focuses on gameplay over presentation or vice versa. Of course, the writer would have to present the facts with their own personal style such that that their review stands out amongst the pack, and more importantly, doesn’t bore the reader to death.
In this new review system, the player would read about the game’s features, then corroborate the pie graph with what they personally value most in a game, and decide if it appeals to them. In the end, a reviewer’s scores are meaningless. A player may very well enjoy a game that the writer did not. No review, regardless of how well-written it is, or how well-informed the writer may be, can decide for another gamer whether or not a game is worth playing. So, actually, there is no point of listing scores in the first place, or muddling an informative account of a game (the real purpose of a review) with personal bias.
Just as there are many factors that influence a reviewer’s opinion, there are just as many factors in the game design process which are not taken into account. For example, consider a fledgling company, trying to get its feet wet in what is becoming an increasingly unforgiving industry. This company may not have the resources to compete with the big name corporations. They may not be able to put countless computers to work rendering hours of pre-rendered cinemas or have the money to hire a symphony orchestra to produce the soundtrack. What they lack in resources, however, they may try to make up for it in effort – by showing their love for their project as best they can. That may sound rather saccharine, but when a developer puts time and care into a game, and not just money, it shows.
Let’s say our hypothetical company releases a 2D RPG. How do its 2D sprites stand up against the thousands of polygons in a 3D graphical powerhouse? They don’t stack up, and in fact should not even be compared. The graphical styles are simply different. Perhaps that 3D game prides itself on its amazing graphics, its killer frame rate, and a bunch of other mumbo jumbo like reflection maps and bump mapping. Underneath that proud façade however, may be a game with little substance, i.e. rather dull gameplay mechanics or an uninspired plot. Meanwhile the 2D game proves to be a labor of love, the programmers putting in the extra hours to create a wide range of features, including a slick user-friendly interface, and an innovative battle system.
Clearly, the fledgling company realized that by and large 2D graphics are considered obsolete, and hoped to sell their product on the virtue of its other features. On the other side, perhaps the makers of the 3D game wanted to create an aesthetic tour de force, wrapping gamers up in the spectacle of its presentation, placing actual gameplay on the back burner? Should graphics or gameplay make or break a game? That depends on each individual player. How many reviewers convey or even acknowledge how they weigh reviews, with regards to those features that take precedence for them personally? With RPGs in particular, a reviewer would bring untold scorn upon himself were he to flat out admit that he doesn’t care about story, and that he gave Game X a high score because its visuals completely blew his mind.
Again, a game should be judged on how well it accomplishes what it set out to do. If graphics are its claim to fame, so be it. If a company decided to allocate its resources to the development of a complex battle engine at the expense of visuals, so be it. It should be the reviewers’ job simply to lay out what the game has to offer, without applying bias or their own personal weighing system. It is then up to each player to decide for themselves how the game impacts them, if at all. With this new system, they can go into a new game free of the influence of another person’s opinion.
The Game Balance Designation System (GBDS)
The first challenge of the new review system was creating a set of universal categories. For RPGs, one automatically considers “Story” as a category, but that may not apply to other genres, like sports or racing. “Control” is a category that’s quite important to most genres, but is almost insignificant in some RPGs, Puzzle Games, Dance Games, and others. Some features of a game may cross categories. “Presentation” for example could account for audio and visual characteristics, but surely those two must be considered separately. In the end, the following categories best covered everything:
- Creativity – covers the originality of the concept behind the game; also how innovative it is in various terms, e.g. graphical style or play mechanics. For example, quirky games like Rez, Stretch Panic, and Silhouette Mirage all had a strong creative focus – say what you will about their other features. On the other hand, sports games don’t have to be creative, and rely more on content, depth, or execution.
- Content – how much the game has to offer, e.g. the number of gameplay modes, secondary mini-games, side quests (for RPGs), amongst other things. In a fighting game this may include the number of playable characters, the number of moves each one has, the different modes. In other words, content determines how many different things there are for the player to do, so as not to be bored by redundancy.
- Depth – how involved all the various aspects are; this could include how customizable characters are in an MMORPG or cars in racing games, the complexity of a fighting game engine, how well a story premise or characters are fleshed out. A game may pride itself simply on having an abundance of features or modes (content), none of which are particularly deep, however. An example of this would be Mario Party.
- Audio – covers all of the game’s sound attributes – music, effects, voice acting, and overall ambience.
- Visuals – the game’s graphics and, if applicable, cinematic presentation – how well the setting and tone are conveyed through visuals alone; includes such things as high polygon counts, real-time rendered cut scenes, animation, lighting and shading – anything the game uses to appeal to the player aesthetically.
- Execution – Execution covers how well the game lived up to its own potential, i.e. how well it capitalized on a strong premise. It covers mechanics, the intuitiveness of the game’s controls and how responsive they are. It also includes user-friendliness of the interface, i.e. how easy menus are to navigate, load times, and whether or not there are glitches. A game will not pride itself exclusively on how well it handles if the rest of the features are terrible, but at the same time, bad mechanics may ruin a game that excels in every other area. In short, execution accounts for how all of the different elements come together to form a comprehensive unit. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Some games may not excel in any one particular area, and when analyzed for each of its attributes separately, one may wonder why such an apparently mediocre game has such a great impact. This may have been the developer’s intention, and it is in fact a testament to great design when a game whose individual aspects aren’t noteworthy can still make for a captivating experience.
Once again, reviews will not judge games in each of these categories, but simply elaborate on what the game has to offer with respect to them. The game balance designation chart will tell the reader which of these aspects the developer intended to use as the crux of its overall presentation.