I Write About Games Better Than You, NYAH!

I’ve been gaming all my life. When I haven’t been plopped down in the floor or on the sofa with a controller in my grimy little hands (or at the computer desk with mouse in hand), I’ve been thinking about video games. So what, right? That doesn’t make me special. You’re absolutely right if you have been thinking that. This isn’t a piece about my history as a gamer or anything of the sort. It was only little over two years ago that it ever occurred to me that perhaps I should give writing about video games a try.

With that revelation, try I did. A lifelong affair with English, high test scores in school, and love of the written word seemed to mesh well with my favorite topic of discussion. After a series of events I was fortunate enough to reach the position I am in right now with Stephanie here at Spawn Kill, and freelance positions across the web – doing what I enjoy, usually not for pay but for the love of it. However, now that I have come so far in what I feel to be a short amount of time, I am nothing things about the industry that I do not find so savory–elitism.
 
You’re probably familiar with it. Elitism allows well-known writers from, say, Joystiq (or replace with any other gaming publication), to attend a showcase of video games organized by publishers (or anything similar) and behave as if they are God’s gift to the world. You shouldn’t ask for their name – how DARE you not recognize them or their work on the site! Elitism allows writers to behave like absolute swine when anyone dares voice a dissenting opinion. It boggles my mind how ordinary individuals who provide news, reviews, previews, or editorials involving video games can view themselves as giants in the industry whose words make the heavens tremble and the humans bow before them. This sort of unwarranted self-importance allows them to deem it necessary to look down on others who share the same hobby but do not enjoy the same level of success. It’s simple to look at them and assume that since they are well-known, they must be revered for some reason, right? Perhaps. But not necessarily. A glut of professional journalists (apparently you must either be a lowbrow blogger or a PRO JOURNALIST – there is no in between in this world) behave in such a manner that it’s difficult to respect them, at least in my eyes.

 Rather than being welcoming or accommodating to writers who have the genuine passion and drive to succeed, they almost always act in such a calloused manner that I’m honestly surprised there are even other individuals ready to take up games writing. Who wants to enter an industry that has no time for newbies?
 
We are writing about video games. Video games are not politics, stem cell research, tackling AIDS, or debating on how to spend your tax dollars. First and foremost, games are supposed to be fun. I appreciate the analysis of the deep-seated issues the industry faces, and opinion pieces are always welcome. In fact, I’m writing one right here. But when you view it at the lowest common denominator, we are all spending time at our keyboards writing about video games, a hobby that was created for the purpose of entertainment, not to piss and moan about every second of the day, or to grow an army of internet fans with.
Since a small website such as Spawn Kill cannot hope at this time to match the traffic or following that the heavy-hitters bring in, it’s almost as if the staff at such sites behave as if we are small peons whose opinions are null and void without “pro” backing or “true journalistic integrity.”
 
There was such a time that I would look up to those who update the big league sites such as Kotaku or IGN, and now I feel as though we are all in direct competition. Sure, in a way we are competing for readers’ time, loyalty, and attention, but also for some strange reason it seems we are competing in an overblown e-peen contest. Who can most effectively argue the “are games art?” debate? Who can come up with the snarkiest headline that utilizes “Wii” in a derogatory fashion? But what does any of this matter? Has everyone forgotten that all of us are inherently doing the exact same things?
 
We are all chained to press releases, information leaks via websites, Twitter, industry professionals, and even magazines. Some of us receive review copies to play through a title, and others pay out of pocket to sustain a video game reviewing service or even a hobby blog. Does that change the validity of one’s opinion regarding a review? If you go about the process in the correct manner, then no, it should not. True, bigger sites may receive more attention and more packages in the mail like useless trinkets PR companies deem necessary to send along (thinking brass knuckles), but in the end we’re performing the same tasks and the same duties, usually with the same PR representatives and the same goal: to inform, entertain, and voice our opinions regarding video games. Not the second coming of Christ. Not the conflict in the Middle East. Video games. Video games – do you remember? They’re those doohickeys you used to play and enjoy, not play for ten minutes and write a complete review of what you think the game is about because it will make you sound super cool if you bash every game you ever pick up. Yeah. Remember those? Video games.
 
Because you may receive news earlier or from a more “viable” source and can post it to your website, N4G, and tens of other social networking sites minutes before the rest of the world, that doesn’t give you the right to be an absolute, well, douchebag to your peers. Just because you own a video game website that sees millions of hits a day, that doesn’t give you the right to berate others who do not receive as many hits, or who may be struggling to get their name out there. Just because all of your posts are pristine, without error, always correctly sourced and full of witty banter that you thought would appeal to hipsters who hate everything, that doesn’t give you the right to point and laugh at their misfortune. Unless the quality of their consistent work reflects that of someone who just can’t be bothered to try, what are you poking fun at? The fact that they made a mistake? Are you yourself incapable of doing such things? Not everyone has all day to spellcheck or even process their thoughts clearly. Instead of complaining about it by wasting space on your own website, why not extend a helping hand and see what you can do to offer change? No one can improve without a little constructive criticism.
 
Like it or not, entering the video game industry in any way, shape or form invariably bonds you to your peers. We may all come from different walks of life, but we are all sharing the love of video games. You may get paid to post three sentences about a half-naked woman in a game, or you may write drawn-out thoughts on the symbolism of Mario’s costume simply because you want to, but both instances are truly one and the same. No one is any better than the other, and no one has the right to behave as though they’re making a difference in the world because their opinion on Project Natal is better or somehow more “valid” than a faceless internet blogger.
 
I realize that some writers consistently push well-written, thought-provoking pieces that audiences love to devour. It’s the same as reading through an engaging novel or a series you can’t forget. When this occurs I can see why people look up to and idolize content providers, but what else have they done save for simply organizing their thoughts into text form? Couldn’t you do the same thing if you put your mind to it? Absolutely. So where is this holier-than-thou atttitude coming from? Do you really think that someone like Leigh Alexander’s opinion holds more weight than any other layman gamer who has enjoyed the medium all their life? And if you do, why? Why can’t we all be considered valuable for different, diverse opinions? Because one writer may receive salary, free video games, and photoshoots for sharing theirs? Ridiculous.
 
Though I find Kotaku’s laziness regarding spellchecking in many of their posts reprehensible, I recognize that their goal is to deliver quick and consistent news updates. I also understand that in the case of reviews that seem to overlook certain issues or parts of the games that “pros” are sometimes overloaded with titles to review and cannot be bothered to complete an entire game before sitting down to write their opinions. Unless they’re way off the mark, why should you bother to complain, either? I realize that these people are staples of the industry, and that they’re well-established, which means they must be doing SOMETHING right, or else they would have vanished long before now.
 
Because of that something right, I’ve gotten to the point I’m at. I live and breathe video games, and I long to share my thoughts. I have so much to say. However, in this enormous network of video game content providers, why does it feel like I’m standing in the middle of an empty auditorium, calling out for friends? Are we all so wrapped up in our own self-importance that we can’t connect with fellow writers and gamers through writing? Is it even possible to get along with different levels of writers?
 
I can’t answer those questions, and maybe I don’t even want to. All I know is this: whether you’re a big-shot IGN employee or an anonymous forum poster who wants to chat about video games, your opinion is valid. “Pro journos” – you’re no better than us, and if you really understood or cared about the industry, you would accept and appreciate that a disjointed rant about the length of video games these days is just as viable as your month-long research looking into the circumference of Wario’s midsection.