The topic of game reviews has been rattling around in my skull for a long, long time. I have a love and hate relationship with games reviews; I always have. On the one hand, they generally can tell you a decent amount about a piece of software before you drop 4999 pennies on something.

On the other-hand, they are maddeningly inconsistent, taken as canon far too easily, and are relied on far to much for what they are–opinions. Opinions from people who may or may not have the same taste in videogames as you, opinions from people who may have bias for a variety of reasons some not-so-noble. And, most important, opinions from people who may have not even played through a title well enough to HAVE an informed opinion on the matter.

Clearly I’m not above these criticisms, hell this is currently MY poorly-informed biased opinion ON opinions. But that shouldn’t stop you from reading what I think is broken about the system so many follow and how I try, in my own corner of the internet, to fix it.

Most videogame reviews are “broken.” I don’t mean this in the sense that they do not work, but in the sense that this is how they term their view on games. Reviews, as they stand right now, only serve to tell you how broken a game is. The graphics do not run at a solid 60 fps. The voice acting is stilted. Multiplayer isn’t fun. On and on, most reviews read like they follow an outline in which they insert numbers into a formula, and out pops a review score.

This is good. Yes, you read that right, this formula is good. Describing the technical flaws of a game is is a vital process. Regardless of how amazing the ideas contained within a game are, they do no good if they are wrapped in a broken system.

The issue is that not being broken is only part of the experience of gaming. Games tell stories. Games involve us in a way other media simply cannot. Every game has its own rhythm, character, and soul. It has to be more than simple mechanics that make a game like Okami vastly different than a game like Metroid Prime.

My issue is that most reviews never adequately cover these artistic parts of a game. I understand the reasoning for this. After all, game reviews are, for some odd reason, built on this standard of not having “bias.” Artistic judgment is based purely on the bias that game reviews run away from. But bias is absolutely vital in reviewing a game. The goal when reviewing a game should be to communicate, in words, what makes a personal experience worth or not worth someone else’s time. That, to me at least, means that personal taste should play a huge factor.

I know I’m venturing into cliche territory here, but scores are not conducive to a personal opinion. Giving Okami an 8 out of 10 tells you absolutely nothing about my personal opinion of the game. It doesn’t tell you that the art style engaged me with its consistency and subtly. I doesn’t tell you that I value a unique art style. It doesn’t say that I’m a sucker for Japanese mythology, which lead to my enjoyment of the story more than most.

What if you value a more realistic art style? What if you find Japanese mythology absolutely boring? Sure, you’d probably recognize that there is a good foundation present in Okami, but you certainly wouldn’t enjoy it as much as my 8 out of 10 did. This point gets even scarier when you think about all the games you HAVEN’T bought because most of the reviews for it are around a 6 or 7. What if someone’s 6 or 7 is your 8, 9, or 10? What if you’ve missed out on some of the most enjoyable experiences because of a simple digit?

It gets even scarier when you think that most review scores tend to be very similar to each other. I’d venture to say that people who write game reviews are not exactly the most diverse crew of individuals. I’d actually venture to say that they all probably have pretty similar backgrounds in gaming, and, like it or not, these people are probably going the have the same viewpoint on gaming.

What’s more, the longer I read reviews, the more I start to think that a lot of reviewers may not have finished a game. That’s completely fine, as I think sometimes you can figure out a games MO in 5 or 10 hours, but sometimes you can’t. And if your job is to review games, you should play all the way through them. A good example resides in the Xbox 360 RPG Enchanted Arms. For about the first 5 hours of the game, you’re one set of characters. This group changes completely after a massive in-game event, and the gameplay really changes from this point on.

Most reviews of the game didn’t take this into account, at all. They’re generally vague enough that you wouldn’t catch it unless you played the game, but then again, you wouldn’t play the game because it got such mediocre reviews. Nuts huh? It’s not only I that noticed this–Gabe of Penny Arcade put the situation in context well in one of his posts. Basically, a lot of game reviews could be considered moot because it was obvious they didn’t play past hour 5 of the game.

Okay, so what does it all mean? What am I getting at? What am I, Benny of 4cr, going to try to do whenever I am given the task of reviewing a game that is different? Well, for one, the experience is paramount. Mechanics should take a back seat to the overall experience of the game. If the game is fun, why is it fun? If it’s intense, why is it intense? Take the essence of the game, and expand on it so that readers can understand how you personally felt when playing the game.

Also, reviewers should be completely honest with what type of gamer they are are. If they hate a certain genre of game, they should just say it! It helps to know the type of “gamer” the reviewer is so that you can see if your tastes gel with his/hers. The “type” of gamer a person is becomes even more important with the entrance of “non-gamers” into the mix. My review of Battalion Wars ii is not going to do Grandma any good. We’re probably coming from a different spectrum of the audience. Reviews should also be honest with how much they’ve played a game.

If gameplay is so poor that the reviewer simply couldn’t push through it, I think that should be said. If honest assessments of how much of a game was completed were standard, that’d give consumers a lot more information about the game.

I can’t just leave you guys with that. I mean, how crappy would it be if you had to click an entirely different link to see what a review that looks like this would read like. Luckily for you, I’ve got just the thing. Here is a little sample non-review of a non-game.

Electroplankton is like my own little dream that I can delve into whenever I please. Each Electroplankton is a musical instrument waiting for exploration. Somehow the simple things manage to captivate me the most. The next time I look up at the clock, maybe 10 minutes have passed, maybe an hour. I’m simply lost in the waters of tone and color.

I’m the type of person who absolutely loves music and music-based games. I could spend hours in front of a piano just hitting random notes making up my own songs, and Electroplankton provides a very similar experience. There are ten separate plankton, and they are like 10 separate instruments to play with. Like any instrument, some fit me more than others. I certainly have my favorites.

Beatnes makes me an 8-bit DJ of sorts with control over a soundboard of blips and bloops. Creations with beatnes are old yet new, cool, hip, and nostalgic. Nothing made with Beatnes is ever permanent as it’s constantly changing. See, most plankton have a “decay” built in where the sounds you make with them are never really permanent. Some may say that there should be a recording option, but I like this built-in decay. It forces me to constantly reinvent my tiny masterpieces. Lumiloop’s tones softly merge into tones and colors pulse outward. A delicate balance needs to be kept, as with Lumiloop, the perfection I’ve created can be lost in a heartbeat. Tense, yet utterly and shamelessly relaxing.

Other plankton need to be explored and discovered. They are difficult to tune but stunning when mastered. I know there is some beauty hidden in Sun-Animalcule, but up until now, I’ve only been able to create a cacophony of bells. Luminaria requires practice and dexterity to master; they tend to get caught in the same traveling loop and sound most beautiful when they are off track.

There are others, and they are all captivating in their own ways, but like a real instrument, misunderstanding can lead to frustration. Electroplankton are instruments to be used, played with, and mastered. The game is an experience through and through. From the fantastic packaging and instruction manual to the menu design, it feels as if love, sweat, and tears have truly been poured into this game.

If you consider yourself a bit of an oddball when it comes to gaming tastes, or simply aren’t afraid of playing something not so typical, definitely give Electroplankton a shot. Electroplankton certainly becomes a “value” proposition if you don’t necessarily gel with the concept, but I’d definitely be willing to pay for something so wonderfully odd, hypnotic, and different. For me, it’s a must-have title, but I’m a bit of an oddball.

So that’s kind of what I’m going for. The truth is that this review was initially ALL experience based, and sounded kind of pretentious and poetic. I tried to incorporate more “hard facts” into the review, but I still think the experience of playing Electroplankton, at least as I see it, comes through. Then again, maybe I’m just an idiot. Let me know what you think of both this review, and my review of reviews. Overall I’d give this article about a 7.25.