The aftershock of a review
Whilst I check video game websites pretty much every day I’m not someone who is aware of when a review will be published in advance. So occasionally I will notice that the review of a highly anticipated game (either by myself or the community in general) has gone up, and of course look at the score before reading the review. By and large many people have a vague idea of how a game will score even without playing it. Call it misguided or presumptuous, but with the sheer volume of hands-on previews, video demonstrations, podcast discussions, knowledge of franchise history, and loaded hints dropped by journalists working on their reviews, we have at least a ballpark concept of how good a game is without even experiencing it ourselves. Reviewers may dislike that thought, but for better or for worse it is certainly difficult for consumers to read a review without some pre-existing bias.
Yet two times recently I have been utterly taken aback by a review score. I’m not as naïve as to assume the reviewer of incompetence, but rather curious as to how my preconceptions could have been so misled. For these two examples, I’m afraid that I’m going to use the IGN review scores. Sorry 1up, but for all its merits, the grading system that you use can’t inspire the same shock, debate and petty squabbling over decimal point increases. I guess that’s why you have it, but it takes the fun away a little.
The first review that surprised me was Blazblue, which was given a score of 9.4. I was aware of the heritage of the development team, of course involved in the Guilty Gear franchise, and therefore it shouldn’t have come as too much of a shock, but several factors meant that I was taken by surprise. Firstly I had heard little to no hype prior to the game’s review. It was given some attention by gaming websites, but clearly not as much as other more recognizable brands. Therefore a game that I wasn’t on my radar scoring a 9.4 suddenly made me consider purchasing it. As ridiculous as this sounds, on a 10 point scale, 9.4 is a very high score. Seeing as Blazblue appeals to a specific niche market I wrongly assumed that, no matter how good the game was, it would be unlikely to score higher than a 9. A 9.4 implies that even if you aren’t a fan of the genre, the game is of such spectacular quality that you should be compelled to at least consider a purchase.
The other score to pique my curiosity was for Gran Turismo PSP which managed a mere 6.8. Seeing anything with Gran Turismo in the title scoring less than a 9 is pretty unprecedented (with the obvious exception of the, cough, paid for demo). The brand usually implies such craftsmanship and quality that it would be an insult not to respect it. And yet it appears that even GT is not infallible to the critics. The overly long development time and the split of resources between the PS3 and PSP versions obviously played their part, but it is a score that few would have anticipated. Perhaps the fact that having been out of the spotlight for such a long time, the PSP version suddenly emerging and then being launched not long after was a telling sign. Could Sony now be regretting their emphasis of GT in prompting the PSP with bundles and discounts?
To return to my point though, occasionally we as consumers are shocked by a review and feel, more in the case of a low score, confused, betrayed and defensive. Whether it is the fault of our own unrealistic expectations or journalists or PR men getting us hyped for an ultimately disappointing game, the reaction on message boards is as predictable as it is irrational. Rage against reviewers, schadenfreude, accusations of bias, rage against the publishers, acceptance, defensiveness and palpable sadness are the scattershot of emotions that you will find sprayed across the internet like a Jackson Pollock.
Few other media have such comprehensive coverage of upcoming products from inception to release, which is one of the reasons why the industry is so fascinating.
