I have now made several posts to Negative Edge, and while they all cover different topics in video games, I would like to think there’s a common thread, that being that everything I write accurately represents what I believe. But instead of leaving my belief system as the subtext of my articles, I would like to lay out my guiding principles. This is for a few reasons. At the risk of tooting my own horn, I think these principles would be helpful for other people. I also think they’ll provide some necessary context for my writing. Lastly, putting them out in the open will keep me honest. If I say something that doesn’t align with these values, feel free to call me out on that! I’m only human and thus my emotions are fickle, but I will do my best to adhere to the values as I have written them. And you, intrepid reader, may do the same, if you so please.

Be Honest in your Convictions

An argument I’ve seen floating around lately is that there are no bad games, just games that aren’t right for particular people. I think this is a load of crock. If you don’t like a game, you shouldn’t feel pressured to temper your thoughts just because other people like it, or worse, because it looks like a lot of effort went into making it. There is no objective good and bad, of course, but the primacy of subjective experience means that your own belief is enough. This isn’t just me being a hater. It goes the other way, too. If you like a game, particularly one other people don’t like very much, you shouldn’t need to qualify that to conform with the expectations of others. Perhaps the most inconvenient manifestation of this attitude is that sometimes things really are just okay. The reservations you have about something are just as important as the things you admire, and it’s okay to let that inform your opinion. There is middle ground between “garbage” and “masterpiece” despite what some people would have you believe.

(Note: I use a handful of scores here, not because giving a game a numerical rating is the be-all-end-all of criticism, but because these are broad generalizations. Feel free to ignore numerical scores if you like, just understand that the numbers are abstractions in these examples.)

Be Holistic

One of the hallmarks of video game criticism in its early years was the breaking of review scores into a set of categories. A game would be granted an overall score that was a weighting of individual scores for gameplay, graphics, sound, and generally some other criteria the publication decided on. This isn’t as common in the present, but it’s left an indelible mark on the way many people talk about games. You’ll often hear people say that a game is a great experience even if it doesn’t have great gameplay, or conversely that it’s a great game but the gameplay is the only part that matters, or any other combination of saying one part is good and the other parts are not. There’s nothing wrong with understanding the constituent parts of a game on their own terms, but one must not miss the forest for the trees. The acts of playing a game, looking at a game, and hearing a game are all part of one unified whole. Every aspect of the game informs the other aspects. Don’t silo your analysis into discrete perspectives, but rather try to understand the entire game by looking at how its different components come together.

(The more difficult application of this principle is understanding that every part of the game is part of the game, regardless of whether or not it’s “necessary”, but that’s something I plan to elaborate on at a later date.)

Be Concrete

If you ever find yourself dismissing a game because it “feels bad” or “looks ugly” then I want you to stop and ask yourself what makes you say that. You aren’t wrong to think those things (refer to the first principle), but just saying something is wrong and leaving it at that isn’t very productive. Try to figure out what it is that’s bothering you. Video games are complex things, so I can’t expect most people to understand how the intricacies of code determine the end result, but just understanding the finer details and how they determine the look, feel, or other impressions of the game is important, and it goes a long way to understanding your own personal taste.

(A corollary to this is that you should avoid scapegoating, whether that be blaming one person or their absence for a game’s quality, pointing to a technological change without identifying the consequence of that change, or any other hasty assumptions.)

Different Games Are Different Things

Imagine a world in which one had to choose between the writings of James Joyce and Ernest Hemingway. Do you like the elaborate prose of Joyce, or do you like the more direct, unadorned language of Hemingway? You aren’t allowed to like both. Only one of them is the correct way to write. I hope you’ll agree with me when I say such a world would be deeply unserious. Just as Joyce and Hemingway were both brilliant writers, just as Akira Kurosawa and Yasujiro Ozu were both master filmmakers, games don’t need to fit one mold. Silent Hill 2 would not be improved by adding fast-paced combat with long juggles and frame-perfect inputs. That would not be conducive to what Silent Hill 2 was designed to achieve. If you think I’m contradicting the first principle already, think again. I’m not telling you that you need to like all styles and schools of game design. But dismissing a game out of hand because it doesn’t fit your rigid definition of what a game is supposed to be is just closing yourself off to new experiences. Free yourself from such assumptions and try to understand the game on its own terms.

It’s Good To Compare Things

Some people have an allergy to comparisons. Perhaps this is a result of years worth of lazy criticism that used cheap comparisons in lieu of meaningful analysis. Comparison can very much be a part of meaningful analysis despite that. This is not in opposition to the previous principle, as the act of comparison is the only reason we can understand that some things are different from other things. The stumbling block for many is the idea that to compare is to equate, reinforced by the redundant phrase “compare and contrast” (you can just say compare!). A better way to think is that you’re bringing the sum of all your experience with you, and they will necessarily inform future experiences. Do not be afraid of that. Sometimes, the most absurd comparisons can reveal less obvious truths.

Summary

The recurring thread in these values is that you are the master of your own ideas. Understanding the way you think is crucial to understanding anything else. I’ve made efforts to internalize all of these ideas, and I think other people would benefit from them as well. This mindset will make you more appreciative of games. Furthermore, and this is a bit of an advanced technique, you can apply them to things other than games. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

I plan to elaborate on all of these ideas at some point in the future with proper examples. Hopefully, that will not only make them easier to understand, but also demonstrate the benefits of this way of thinking.