The Gamers at E3: Are we suited to evaluation?

by Raincrystal 

We are gamers! We are the ones with the inside scoop on the industry. We follow it so closely, we know it inside and out. Naturally, we're the ones who know best, right? We're the ones who know what would make a good game, and we can predict what will happen based on our experiences, right? ...Right?

Or is this really so? Lately, gamers have become a bit jaded, holding double standards and defending them to the death. We assume that we know, but have we actually lost touch with what the public outside the "inner circle" of the gaming world knows and feels?

First of all, there's the fact that we can't really guess whether a game will be good before it is released. It's just not possible to know before anyone tries it. Yet we persist in trying to gauge what will be a good game, and often we fabricate opinions before the game is even released, on the basis that we "know" so much about games that we can judge them before we are actually able. No one can predict the future.

Secondly, as much as we might hate to admit it, we are not the general public. We are a small group of people who like games so much that we follow them closely. Outside this inner circle, there is a much broader sphere of people who like games but aren't as fanatical as we are. This is true of any hobby, and there's nothing wrong with gaming being ours; but we must be aware that we alone are not a representative sample of gamers everywhere.

We also frequently hold double standards. For example, we love old classics so much that we are attracted to various aspects of these games, and we think that we want to see the release of more games just like them. At the same time, we often bash a game for being "nothing more than a clone of game X." We can't make up our minds as to whether we want to play something innovative or something classic. We hold these contradictory opinions, and then get upset when anyone disagrees with us. How can anyone avoid disagreeing, though, in a case like this?

Gamers also seem to have a vendetta against everything under the sun. One day we praise a game, and the next we slander it. Sometimes this is reflective of trends: it isn't "cool" to like games that are too popular, so gamers latch on to lesser-known games and dub them cult classics. When too many people begin to discover a game with a previously small following, it too becomes popular, and gamers begin to criticize it and move on to something else.

We also often think we know more about the market, or about gamers in general, than we actually do. Many diverse experiences with gaming, combined with our tendency to generalize these experiences, leads us each to believe that we know best what popular opinion holds. Actually, we don't. We know the opinions of those who have been in contact with us, but we cannot know that we are in the majority; there are always major groups that we have not been exposed to.

Now, with this in mind, it must also become obvious that we can only work with the facts that we are given. Since some sort of consideration must be taken, let us observe the issue without assuming that we are correct before we even begin to discuss it.

Consider games as an art form. Many of us believe that games have reached the level of art. The issue on many gamers' minds seems to be whether we can gain the public's recognition of games as such. However, what makes us so sure that games are art? Only our own private experiences. Is it really fair to generalize these experiences to the public? If most people do not view games as art, how can we be sure that we are in the right? It's easy to play the unaccepted genius, the minority struggling for recognition. It's easy to believe we are right.

Naturally, most gamers have a vested interest in seeing games recognized as art. We want this rather badly. We appoint ourselves judges, when actually, we are perhaps the last people who should be judging such a topic. We're biased-- of course we are! We want games to be art, and we're going to view them in a light favorable to our cause.

Consider the issue of clones in a series. We loved a certain game; we now see that its sequel is coming out, and we are excited for the release of this latest installment. Yet we know that the sequel will not be innovative; it will be similar to the game we liked before. Why do we do this? Surely we are aware that, if we wanted a game like one we originally loved, we could just go play the original. Why do we want something new that is just like something we already have?

Maybe it's because there's a certain comfort in knowing that the next game will be familiar. If it is a clone of something we liked, then it could not be too terrible, could it? Perhaps it's a need to "keep up" with a series, so that we can feel more loyal to the original by playing its sequels. Or perhaps it's just human nature. Children sometimes ask for a second helping of dinner when they have not finished what is already on their plate. It is a basic assumption that, if what they have is good, more of it is even better. This is not always true, especially when our reason for liking a game is its innovation.

It's hard for game developers to take gamers seriously. We are a fickle public, demanding one thing, then switching positions the moment our demand is met. No wonder the future of gaming is such a frustrating thing to predict: we ourselves are unpredictable, with developers having difficulty catering to a market that changes its mind every few seconds. Sometimes it seems that we get what we ask for only to complain that we've got it. Do our opinions really reflect what we want, or do we merely want to complain? Is anything really good enough for us?