1) Never played the demo, only watched it being played.
2) Never played any of their past games.
3) Does not like video games as a storytelling medium.
4) And actually complains that the game is fun and wants the fun removed.

Scroll down and watch:
http://loadoutroom.com/2962/medal-of-honor-warfighter-authenticity/

Analysis involves comparing it to items that have come before and how they were recieved. And new aspects of the item that have not been done before and how they might be recieved.

There was a memorable review of the Waterfall Terrace where the Reviewer thought the space was good overall, but had corners that would be hard to decorate. This is the kind of information that is useful to someone thinking of buying it. Reviews should be there to help reduce buyer’s remorse, not to proliferate your opinion.

And this is one I hated:
http://www.criticalgamer.co.uk/2010/04/12/rengoku-tower-of-purgatory-review/

Don’t worry, they’re not very long (10mins at most) but I think you’ll see exactly WHY staying away from the first-person perspective is paramount to a subjective review. Again, good read Duce, thanks.

I have never written a review of the game or space. I’ve made a written reviews on personalities or experiences. But the guidelines you point out apply in these matters to. There are truths and what you wrote that apply in all forms of writing. Even fluff. I seem to remember an old saying that goes… Lock a monkey in a room with a typewriter and given enough time he would write the works of William Shakespeare. That statement always fascinated me. I have even send that idea to Mythbusters… The key to being read is to write something readable. People have the writing style or styles. And readers may have their preferences on the styles they prefer. I am no writer but I write. And I can’t write just for the sake of writing, it has to be something that I know or feel strongly about plus be something that I can convey in not only an entertaining way but conveys my point. That said, if I write something from my point of view, which I almost have to because it’s the only aspect I have access to, I try to write it in a way that others can relate to.but I’m not so sure writing isn’t like video production. When I first started shooting video professionally, I was told always to use a tripod, level the camera, color balance and make smooth deliberate movements if necessary. That all changed. A very high percentage of television programming is shot on shoulder mounted cameras, slightly tilted, abnormal chroma tweaking and slightly shaky. Can the rules of writing also evolve or devolve like the rules of shooting video have. And writers pressing the envelope have to step over the rule guidelines sometimes. What the heck am I talking about. I probably write fluff. I cross no boundaries. I press no envelope. I can even spell check the monkey that’s writing Shakespeare. I defer to you and others that know a lot more about writing than I do.

All that is my fluffy way of saying great article.

Sorry, I have to go now, the monkey has pulled the ribbon out of the typewriter again. And all he’s written so far is the complete works of Ayn Rand

Allow me to explain.

When you want your voice heard, and the thoughts you have on a topic to matter to more than just yourself, it’s essential to keep in mind the other people who possibly could be reading what you have to say. Think about it -- when you write a comment in a public venue, it is going to be read by many people, coming from many backgrounds. They don’t have to agree with your point of view, but wouldn’t you at least want them to respect it (and by association, you)? So yes, writing well is necessary.

Writing for one’s self is great -- all artistic endeavors are exercises self-indulgence on some level -- and it has its place. And you’re right; when writing for one’s self, writing well doesn’t matter, but when sharing that piece of yourself publicly, the work does need to be taken to the next level above the self.

This is the beauty of a review: a reviewer is doing their best to explain the whys behind their opinions on a subject, and if the bare minimum result is getting someone else thinking and sharing their whys on a level that’s at least as clear as the reviewer’s, then count that as a successful result, too. No, not everyone has to agree with the point of view originally expressed. However, that can’t happen if neither person can write (at least on a rudimentary level) well. What that will result in is a likely flame war, or worse, having those thoughts completely ignored. There’s plenty of those to be found online -- far too plenty.

You don’t have to start out as a good writer, so long as you’re willing to grow. And that -- at least when talking about HSM specifically -- will ensure you’ll have a long, enjoyable stay here on the team.

Last night I was showing a friend my treatment of the Gothic Cathedral private space, which leans heavily toward animated cherry trees, flickering campfires and organic asymmetry. He explained carefully what I had done wrong, and how I should correct it. I listened. Then I replied.

“That’s why I’m me and you’re you.”

That wasn’t a clever putdown. It’s a simple statement of my creative philosophy. Especially as it applies to writing. Which is, anything can work, if you feel it intensely. It may not make sense to anyone else — they don’t need to like it. It’s nice if they do, of course. We all crave approval. But it’s perfectly okay if they don’t.

That’s why we’re us and they’re them. We’re in this writing game to say something about beauty and emotion, not to make everyone happy.

I’ve written things that looked like game reviews that wouldn’t tell the game’s developer anything useful about their creation. I have one in the queue now, one that says a hell of a lot more about Seal than it does about the game she was ostensibly reviewing. (To be fair, I left off the rating section for that one. I knew it wasn’t really a review.) When it comes out, most of the readers of this magazine will say, “Huh?” and move on. That’s okay. Some of them will loathe it and complain. That’s okay too. A few may say, “Wow, someone else shares my gut reaction!” That’s okay too — hey, it’s more than okay, it’s great! As I said, we all crave agreement. But that’s still not why I wrote it.

I wrote it because I had to.

That’s what creation, especially writing, is all about. It’s about having stuff spill from your guts out your fingers, leaving the fossil tracks of your emotions on the paper for everyone to pick over. You do it because you have to. Not because you want to be loved or even agreed with. This is not a popularity contest. If you’re lucky, someone else will see something in it that resonates.

But they don’t have to. That’s why they’re them and I’m me. We’re going to see things differently. And that’s okay. It may hurt if you disagree. But it doesn’t really matter.

What matters is putting yourself out there, making yourself vulnerable, making the effort. And, quite often, figuring out what you wrote AFTER you wrote it. And learning from the experience, and moving on to write something else.

It doesn’t matter if you write well. Sure, writing well will get you a berth on this magazine faster than writing badly. Stating your opinion clearly is going to work better than repeating sloppy cliches. But, ultimately, what matters is what the writing does to you, for you, inside you. The way it lets you see yourself. The conversation you have with yourself, through the page and your eyes and fingers. Did what you just wrote teach you anything about the world, or about games, or about your own inner life? If your answer was “yes”, then the piece succeeded. Even if it features your cat batting at the screen.

It’s nice if someone else gets something from what you wrote. In fact, it’s wonderful. But don’t expect it. They’re them and you’re you. Communication isn’t always going to succeed.

That’s okay. Really. That’s what this creation game is all about. It’s all part of the conversation.

I played the entirety of GTA5 following traffic laws when I could and wound up taking a good deal of taxis to get from one place to another. I rarely hijacked vehicles and only killed when absolutely necessary. In Skyrim (a game I have yet to finish with over 220 hours in! WOO!) I have never fast traveled, I rest most nights, I don’t do missions that involve thievery and/or murder. These two games hold experiences for me that are likely quite different from the experience most others play through, so my personal tastes on how to play an open world game has a direct impact on my opinion of those games.

I guess the point is one shouldn’t review a game based on those sorts of factors. It would be silly for me to discuss in a review my observation that Liberty City citizens have a habit of stopping at green lights and going on red when I know full well most people will never be effected by, let alone notice, that game quirk.

I think there’s room for articles that explore the interpersonal connection one has with a game but I guess those sorts of articles shouldn’t then end in a score. I think it’s important for everyone to take this advice into consideration when deciding what kind of reviewer they want to be. Don’t be pressured to include a score, or an analytical exposition of a game when what you really want to do it write about what the game meant to you. I’ll be the first one to admit I have been guilty of this reviewers rush.

Thanks for the wisdom Deuce, it has certainly pointed out the reason I have found some of my past articles… unsettling and cumbersome.

That doesn’t necessarily make us “better” — there’s an audience for the type of writing listed in the previous paragraph — but if the ESRB is to be believed, and the average game purchaser is forty years old, then we suspect there are a hell of a lot of people out there who are looking for something a bit deeper than a bowl of LOLspeak tapioca.

One of the writing techniques HomeStation writers are encouraged to use is anecdote, as it personalizes the article and that fits with the more social thrust of the publication. That said, we’re also conscious of the necessity for proper review structure, in order to maximize the effective usefulness of the article. What you pointed out about learning the rules before stylistically choosing which rules to break is critical; we take liberties with the AP Stylebook, but we also know what the hell the AP Stylebook *is.*

One of the most clever writers I’ve read in modern times is Patton Oswalt, when he pens reviews under the “Neill Cumpston” pseudonym. He clearly knows how to write extremely well, but he disguises it in a hyper-fanboy style designed to simultaneously satirize and appeal to the lowest-common denominator and the more discerning reader alike. On YouTube, Red Letter Media has also done this extremely well with the “Mr. Plinkett” character and his reviews of various science-fiction movies. Highly recommended.

Thanks for writing this, Deuce; it really hit the nail on the head.