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Ethics of Evaluation (Part 2)

  By: Pepsi Ranger

  Rating games from the nice guy perspective

  The dreams of a game creator can either be lifted or crushed by the words of his critic. But, does the reviewer really care? Aren't his opinions strictly his alone? Yes, and that is a very important rule to remember when evaluating somebody else's game. When sitting down at your computer trying to think of things to write about, don't forget that you're the reviewer, not the author's mom. You're not here to please people. You're here to inform us of the truth. Therefore, don't let sympathy get in the way of your opinions. If the author doesn't want to risk having his game ripped apart then he would never submit it in the first place. The reality may be harsh, but that's the purpose of a critique.

  However, this does not mean that you have to be a jerk about it. That's why I decided to devote the second part of this series to the "good cop" approach. But, before I get into details about how to be the good cop, or the nice guy if you will, let's first examine what this concept means exactly.

  When you first open up your reviewer program and fill out the usual basic information fields, you are more than likely reeling from the effects that the game just had on you. And be realistic-you either liked the game, or you didn't. But, regardless of your overall opinions of the experience you just had, you still have to decide whether you want to be nice in your expressions or not. If the game was terrible, the temptation to tear the game to pieces is extreme. But, if there was something-anything that was redeeming, then you have a chance to rate the game according to that. And that's more or less what the good cop does. He sees the positive side to an otherwise forgettable game.

  So how does this work exactly? If a game sucks, then it sucks, right? Likewise, if it's awesome, then, baby it rocks. And think about that for a second. If the game is something special then you really don't have to be any brand of cop so-to-speak, do you? The idea behind being a nice guy is recognizing the fact that this game needs you to be nice. If not for your approach, then no one will discover the good qualities that lurk behind the garbage.

  This concept may still be a bit vague, so let's break it down a little further. I'll start by asking yet another question. When you played this game, did it teach you anything?

  Right now you may be thinking, "Pepsi Ranger, is it true that you're not human?" Well, I don't know why you'd be thinking that because yes I am, but I can see why this question may be a little startling, and no doubt cause you to think that I'm out of my mind. But, ponder the question. If Monterey Penguin had very little going for it and if it had qualities that fit the "it sucks" definition, then what would be the one thing that might save it?

  "But, come on," you may be saying, "Monterey Penguin is awesome. It doesn't suck." Okay, well why is it awesome then? Better yet, what does it teach you?

  I'll give another illustration using a game that I've given a halfway decent score to, even though it wasn't exactly the most spectacular game available. It's called Dimensions III, and it is a characteristically incomplete game. The story is bland to say the least, the graphics are blocky to say the most, and the battles are…well, ridiculous to say the best. So, why in the world would I give it an overall score of 7.0? This game does not warrant a score that high. I mean, someone else gave it a 3.0. Why is there such a huge margin of error here? I shall explain.

  Of all the qualities that this game did not have, there were two qualities that made the experience worth it. Quality number one came in the form of a job system. Even though there was only one job available, and it was limited like a blind man in a laser tag facility, it still worked. But more importantly, it taught the player something. What did it teach exactly? It taught two things actually. First of all, it taught that even heroes need to work from time to time to keep their characters realistic and identifiable to the real world. Secondly, it made the point that money shouldn't always be earned through battles with chickens. Not to mention that since this was the first time I had seen a system like this used on the OHR, I thought it was worth a couple extra points. And that's only one example. The other quality I found to be used very well was the dungeon design. Even though some dungeons didn't have enemies to fight, they were still designed in such a way that forced the player to think about what he was doing, and where he should go next. That in my opinion makes things just a bit more interesting, and I'll admit that it taught me a thing or two about dungeon design. And those are the reasons why it netted such a high score. So basically, the good cop will look past the crappy graphics and screeching music if he learned something valuable about his own game design techniques from the experience. Granted, if the game only taught you how to rip your hair out from the roots, then the lesson was not necessary, and you are no longer needed to be the nice guy.

  But anyway, the time has come for you to rate the game. You've decided that it's got maybe one or two good qualities, but it's not yet an outstanding game. So, how would a nice guy rate it then? It doesn't deserve a perfect ten, but it doesn't deserve a zero either. What's the best way to handle it?

  The example of the good cop-nice guy is to pretend all games are worth a perfect score and go backward from there. Obviously no game is so perfect that it should warrant a top honor, but that doesn't mean the final tally can't be in its favor. When scoring a game, it's best to evaluate it as if it were perfect, except this and that made it less than spectacular. Another method to consider is to measure it up to your favorite games and evaluate from there. For example, since Monterey Penguin has some of the best graphics I've seen, I might consider scoring the Dimensions game's visuals against that. Naturally its graphics are nothing like Monterey Penguin's, so the score would reflect that. But, I wouldn't use Monterey Penguin to compare the story. Rather, I would choose a game like Walthros or Lolsidothaldremobine instead. Essentially, the idea is to take the best in each category you know and compare the game you're rating according to that. This is the way of the good cop.

  Last thing I'll mention, and this is relevant to my style of scoring, is to understand the rating scale. As everyone knows, the game scale fits between the numbers of zero and ten. Obviously, a zero is only necessary if the game doesn't have a certain element intact. About ninety-nine percent of all games released should score higher than zero in any given area. But, what if the quality is really bad? For example, if the music sounds like cymbals crushing a duck, what's wrong with giving it a perfect zero? I mean, the sound literally causes heads to hurt. The point is that the author still made the effort to put music in there, so a zero is too low. On the flip side, a perfect ten is also next to unnecessary. A ten should only be given when there is absolutely no way an area can or should be improved. Even the best games could stand an improvement.

  Okay, so what kind of grading is more appropriate? Well, if you're gonna do it the good cop way, then you have to remember that the author's motivation will inadvertently be effected by what you say. For example, if you give the graphics a score of less than a 2.0, even if it deserves it, it may be enough to crush the author's will to draw. Of course, if the author is passionate about his work, then nothing will stop him from revising. But, if the future of the project depends solely on what the review says, then don't ever expect to see an improved update from anything that's less than encouraging. On the same token, a 9.0 is a very generous score, and symbolizes something truly special. However, it still suggests that some mild tweaking is in order, and that's appropriate. Bear in mind that this is only a guideline, and that some games absolutely need to be rated past the 2.0-9.0 scale. After all, a good reviewer will go beyond the good cop persona if there is no way anything higher than a two or less than a nine is justified. So, when considering the final grade in each category, always remember that above the realm of the nice guy is the need for the reviewer to keep his credibility.

  And that's the nature of evaluating a game from the good cop-nice guy perspective. By adopting this method, you're not expected to give out cushy, peachy keen scores and comments to make everyone happy. All you're doing is looking for qualities that can potentially save the integrity of the game and its author's will to continue. That's all.

  Now, the good cop method may not be up to your style by any measure. If that's the case, then the bad cop-mean guy strategy will be more to your liking. Part three will deal exclusively with this concept, so stay tuned. And to keep the analyzation of such a method genuine, I've asked bad cop Dalaran to address it, so that all potential reviewers may learn and understand his ways. So, take it away, Dalaran...

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