Leigh Alexander of Sexy Videogameland had a couple of choice nuggets to chew on:

When a title attempts to explore uncharted areas, it risks stumbling into areas that have been neglected for a good reason — because they don’t work as well. But when we fault them for trying, without recognizing that the game might have done a few new things well, or when we treat creativity or an attempt at inventiveness as a design flaw, we’re sending the industry some problematic mixed messages. We demand innovation and invention, and then we crucify any attempts in that direction.

The above comment was in response to Silent Hill: Homecoming, but rekindled from the spark Mirror’s Edge seems to have caused throughout the industry. So then, should Alone in the Dark for the Xbox 360 have warranted a 58 score on metacritic? Or the “improved” PS3 release, which received an average of 67? Maybe 1UP’s Nick Suttner was right, saying it was one of the overlooked gems of 2008? I’ll just say that’s why I bought it when it was released, although it’s still sealed on my shelf.

I tend to agree with this way of thinking. A game should be respected by trying something new and interesting. Now, let’s be clear, this is different than how Japanese developers like to reinvent things such as online play and controls for no good reason. There’s no way Dirge of Cerberus gets a recommendation in my book…

Leigh’s other point is one I’ve often thought of myself (“The Four Month Bell Curve”):

Here’s how it works — starting at about six months prior to release, the hype machine builds, reaching a fever pitch during the magical week. And in the week that follows, said highly-anticipated title is the greatest thing since sliced bread; reviewers use hyperbolic superlative adjectives, the top five Digg stories pertain to said game, it makes mainstream media headlines in spots like the New York Times or Slate (Newsweek doesn’t count, because we cheat by having N’Gai).

Fast forward a month later, and the backlash begins with a strongly worded post from the blog community, perhaps one single acerbic writer who doesn’t get what the fuss is all about. This, too, draws massive internet traffic, as seas of enamored fans flock to the dispute. And then, well, wait, wait, says someone else, Dissenter Zero might have a point — and then before you know it, we’re not talking “most breathtaking open-world experience EVER,” but we’re talking more like “ludonarrative dissonance,” and things like that (these are not actual quotes about GTA IV, as far as I’m aware, but might as well be — “ludonarrative dissonance” refers to BioShock, actually).

This has been going on for years. I placed it back to the first Prince of Persia: Sands of Time game. What was a game of the year contender when it was first released, it was singled out for it’s many flaws by the time the sequel was being previewed. Same with Jade Empire. Same with Halo 2. Same with BioShock.

Game reviews fall into this trap because they are packaged as buyers guides rather than genuine criticism. They are meant to hit the web by the time the game is on store shelves. Since most games sell the majority of their total sales during the first few weeks in stores, that means there are droves of potential buyers swarming the review sites to see if it is worth their hard-earned $60. See where this is a problem? Reviewers are forced to plow through a game within a set timeframe, write down their opinions in haste and paste it on the front page of a website to grab valuable traffic. They aren’t allowed to let their experience age, to reflect upon it for days or even weeks afterward.

Now, one can argue that film and music could also fall in this trap, since they are day-and-date driven by retail sales. The difference here is that those types of media benefit from manageable time commitments and lend themselves to repeat viewings or listenings, to help flesh out that initial love-or-hate fest. I used to review music for my university’s newspaper, and I’d listen to a CD over and over again throughout a weekend before I put my first word on paper.  I was able to dig deeper into a song, discover its true meaning, or at least what it meant to me. I could hear the conflict between the upbeat melody and the underlying melancholy lyrics that might get a pass if I only heard it once. That in turn resulted in some pretty good personal insight in my reviews, some that I’d be damned proud to reprint here if I still had my scrapbook of writings…

So why do videogames suffer from a short honeymoon? It’s because a 10+ hour game isn’t easy to playthrough a second or third time before a review deadline is met. What we’re ever seeing is the reviewer’s initial impressions based on a single playthrough. And the nature of game criticism is, that’s pretty much gospel.