Across The Web

It's strange, but it seems as though this state of complete intellectual awareness and piety is something a writer -- more specifically, a critic -- is expected to be able to exercise without fault. That is, if their opinion is to be accepted. Am I wrong in this assumption? Why do we, not as people that play video games but discuss and extemporize upon their various devices, feel the need to have an insular, singular reason for the way in which a game either gained or lost attention and ultimately, our time?

I find it odd that, instead of collaborating in a generally conducive manner, we make haste to artificially interject our own false intellectualism in an attempt to tear down whoever the author of varying persuasion may be.

How can video games expand to broader audiences and become a more mature medium when we can't seem to discuss, amongst ourselves, the reasons for our likes/dislikes of a game, series, or franchise without being so rashly criticized by our peers when it seems rudimentary for more casual observers to accept one’s opinion without a need for absolute resolution?

Must there be one fatal flaw or grievance that makes me like red apples as opposed to green, or prefer apples instead of oranges?

The problem seems to lie in our knowledge concerning the medium, or perhaps it is our own fear of irrelevancy or creative stagnation. The intentions of those that want to intensify and expand the discussion may be genuine, but when sitting behind an online pseudonym, the temptation to type falsehoods and insults seems instinctual.

Those in the enthusiast press need more than themselves. The audience, as a whole, must also nurture unfamiliar conventions and, more importantly, the amalgamation of functions that encompass one's feelings surrounding a particular game without immediate dissension into bigotry if we truly want video games to become a more acceptable form of storytelling; a medium more know for its success than its failure.