I don’t tend to actually get much reading done in regards to games writing. I’ll click articles here and there on my Twitter feed when news piques my interest, but on the whole most of my reading is either GamersWithJobs or Quarter to Three. If I’m feeling frisky I may saunter on over to Unwinnable or Twenty-Sided Tale, and when I’m truly bored I’ll take a gander at The Escapist and Destructoid.

There are a couple other sites I’ll check as well, but those are the top ones of note as they each fit what I actively seek in some fashion. For genuinely good writing, I can always count on GamersWithJobs and Quarter to Three. In fact, whenever I find myself lacking the motivation to write or unable to put the proper words together, I read Quarter to Three. There’s something about Tom Chick’s writing that puts me in a good mood and gets my mind revved up. Suddenly, I want to write. It is not too dissimilar to how listening to Neil Peart perform the drums makes me want to pick up the sticks and bash some toms whilst screaming “I’m a percussionist!”.

Aside from good, entertaining writing, however, and this is where Quarter to Three comes ahead of other sites, I also want a good analysis about games. Tom Chick fills a certain void that only Tycho Brahe could fill before him, composing a game analysis as if it were a sonnet rather than a task to be performed. While Chick’s wording and approach is certainly of a more critical manner, I am often caught off guard by how entertaining he manages to make each analysis whilst still providing insight and information.

This is but one of the things that makes good criticism so difficult, and why I cannot bring myself to even read the daily updates of a site like Polygon. Their reviews may be better written than their competitors, but it still reads more like a run-down of the mechanics than an analysis or understanding of what makes them work or operate.

I will note that doing so for every game is hard to pull off. It took me over six months just to put together a Luigi’s Mansion: Dark Moon revew largely in part due to this very problem. Yet a game’s mechanics aren’t just about logic, but about emotion. How a game plays is intended to draw out emotions in the player, bursts of exhilaration or a peaceful escape from reality. Perhaps a game seeks to horrify you, or maybe to depress or educate you. It may yearn to empower you. Yet many reviews and critiques rarely get down to how this works, or how a game’s mechanics could be improved to achieve their emotional goals, or what perhaps interferes or contradicts said goals.

These days, I find the majority of my games criticism comes in the form of podcasts such as the GamersWithJobs Conference Call, the Quarter to Three Games podcast and Idle Thumbs, or through YouTube content creators like Errant Signal, Matthew Matosis and The Gaming Brit.

Now being a podcaster and video content creator myself, I will freely acknowledge that each of these forms of media have their benefits and can provide something that simple writing cannot in regards to games discussion and analysis. However, neither of these formats truly allows for skilled writing. At least, not in the same manner.

Podcasts often have little writing at all. Instead it is about the conversation, and what I have tried to create with the RambleCast is the sort of podcast I love listening to. An insightful discussion that you would love to be a part of. It should sound like friends sitting down and just talking about really interesting conversations, while hopefully bringing in arguments and concepts that may not be heard so often. But seeing as conversation is itself a product of stream of consciousness thinking, it is very rarely thought through or defined in a way that excellent writing can be.

Video content, such as what I create and am drawn to, does require a lot of work put into the script. However, here clarity and, surprisingly enough, brevity are more important than ever. You cannot spend a lot of time on one topic if you don’t have the video footage to back it up, which actually makes citing specific examples a bad idea. It not only means you have to sift through hours of recorded video, but you need to make sure the video can be timed to match with what you’re describing.

The presence of video means the nature of writing changes. You’re creating a monologue to describe concepts and ideas that are then illustrated on screen visually, and because the viewer can see what is going on, you must be careful not to over-explain it while still clearly illustrating how the words and visuals are connected.

It works best when you’re discussing raw mechanics. Once you begin to discuss more emotional aspects of the game, you have to be more careful with your word choice and how much time you spend on what it is you’re describing.

I believe this is just one of many reasons so many video makers rely on humor as a crutch of entertainment. Since simply analyzing a game is difficult to manage in an entertaining way, you must also create jokes and gags to keep your viewer’s attention. I believe this, which is also partially sired by Yahtzee Croshaw and similar writers that rely heavily on humor and obscene descriptions and metaphors, is doing harm to games criticism as a whole.

Writing should be entertaining, yes, but entertainment in this regard doesn’t necessarily mean funny. It should coax the imagination of the reader out of hiding. Words are a tool, a device designed to convey meaning from one person to another. While a simple, blunt sentence can accomplish this, it provides no flavor.

It is like playing Super Smash Bros. with no items on Final Destination. A flat level without any surprises or potential hazards. Just you and the raw, base mechanics. It gets the job done, but it lacks vitality.

This is what writing should be. Alive. Even a games review should have the reader’s eyes intently dancing across the page or monitor (or phone screen or tablet or…), engaged by the ideas and the way they are put forth. Anyone can tell you they had cereal for breakfast, but a good writer knows how to draw you in by describing how tired they were as they stumbled down the hallway, how they barely managed to get all the cereal into the bowl, the sudden realization that they placed the milk into the pantry and the cereal in the refrigerator, and then the sudden burst of flavor as they washed that foul morning taste from their buds as sugary goodness flooded their mouth.

There is no reason games writing, outside of journalism at least, should be any different. I genuinely yearn to see a major gaming outlet finally take the step forward and exclaim “No!” as they toss a review aside. “This will not do!” they shall bellow. “A game review should not simply be a run-down of mechanics, checking graphics, sound, and replayability off of some list of predetermined requirements!”

After all, games are much more than mere software. We shouldn’t be scoring them based on features as we might when comparing Photoshop and Paint.NET. They are entertainment, and they have more goals to accomplish than “not suck”.

We should treat them with respect, and our writing should reflect that.