In Defense of Polygon

When you think about what comprises a game review, what comes to mind? Certainly traditional review elements like a critique of the game’s mechanics, its fluidity, its narrative if that’s something that’s important to you, its graphics and sound, and even its “fun factor” are all things that would be popular answers. But for a growing number of game critics, aspects like the presence of gratuitous fanservice/examples of the male gaze and other social commentary-based criticisms are becoming one of those staples too. And, as expected in the gaming community, not everyone is pleased about it. But often what that vocal group of angry commentators fail to recognize is how this sort of deeper criticism functions not as “click bait,” but as a legitimate addition to the standard definition of what game – and any media for that matter – criticism really is.

Last week Polygon released their review of Bayonetta 2, the latest edition in the Japanese action franchise published by Nintendo. One very prominent facet of their review was how off-putting the excessive sexualization of Bayonetta was in the game, an aspect that caused the reviewer to give the game a lower – albeit still good – score than most other reviews of the game. One comment writer Arthur Gies made, among others, summarizes:

“…the deliberate sexualization and objectification on display serves as a jarring distraction from the creativity and design smarts elsewhere.” – Polygon

The backlash was immediate and vicious. Some claimed Polygon was catering to that infamous “social justice” crowd that wants to ruin gaming or that they were stirring up needless controversy on a great game in order to get views. Others sent angry reviews, comments, and emails to Nintendo urging them to demand that Polygon take down their review. The group of comments I most want to talk about, however, are those comments that insisted that this sort of social commentary has no place in a “real” game review; the ones that insisted that this score should be removed from Metacritic’s cumulative scores because “ethics” really shouldn’t contribute to a score that is supposed to be objective; that it wasn’t a “useful” review because of that aspect.

For me, a game review is a written representation of the writer’s experience playing the game. The reviewer does don a more critical lens than a normal player might, yes, but they’re ultimately looking for the same thing any other player is: a fun, rewarding, and engaging experience. Although many like to tote the idea that the best reviews are objective, I feel that the opposite is true. I could argue that there is truly no completely objective review and that, by its very definition, it is a subjective piece of work. However, putting that argument aside, what would an “objective review” look like? Perhaps it would mention the quality of the graphics output. Perhaps it would discuss whether or not there were any bugs within the game or how fluid the gameplay is. These things are fine, perhaps, as elements of the review, but would it be very interesting, helpful, or even entertaining if that’s all it was? After all, most people enjoy reading about, for example, the art direction or design in the game. But while one gamer might prefer an indie or artistically creative art style, another might give an ultra-realistic art style better marks.

When I read a review, I’m looking for a written representation of what makes the game worth playing or not. I’m looking to see what the reviewer’s experience was like playing the game; how well its mechanics combined with its creative content creates an immersive experience, and I don’t think I’m alone in that matter. The core argument of Polygon’s score deduction was how the persistent objectification removed Gies from the game, how it negatively affected his experience. Although I haven’t played Bayonetta 2 myself, I would probably write the same myself. After all, while I have more tolerance than others for this sort of thing, I can only take so many ass shots and boob windows before it starts to weigh down my experience. It’s a reviewer’s job to alert potential buyers or players to the things that might make or break a game. Although some might not be bothered by the overt sexualization of Bayonetta, others, like myself, do appreciate being warned of this potentially negative aspect of the game as much as someone might appreciate knowing how many bugs might be present in the game, how poor the voice acting was, or, in Sam’s case, how many dead children are in the game. Polygon’s judgment rests in a perfectly standard and valid way of reviewing a game: how well does the game craft a fun experience, and let’s face it, as much as some would like to deny it, needless sexual exploitation is not always distracting in a good way.