Consoleation Version 3.0

L.A. Noire is one of the most anticipated games of 2011. The premise is unique, as gathering evidence and solving cases are going to be at least as important as any other features of gameplay. The motion capture looks amazing. The voice acting sounds fantastic. There's a lot to be excited about when the game finally emerges next month. 

Unfortunately, L.A. Noire is also set up to be one of the most segmented game releases in recent memory. In fact, unless you own a PlayStation 3 and you purchase the game from both GameStop and Wal-Mart, you will be missing out on some cases that make up the overall experience. Other retailers are offering DLC items-- which are bad enough-- but this move to start ransoming parts of the single-player experience based on which retailer you buy the game from or on which console you have is, well, a crime. 

Rockstar Games, the publisher for L.A. Noire, is quick to point out that the exclusive cases that consumers get for preordering at either GameStop or Wal-Mart will be available as paid downloadable content some time after release. This is not a victory for anyone other than Rockstar, which gets to make even more money off of consumers for content that, arguably, should be in the game to begin with. The console-specific DLC is going to be a strengthening trend throughout 2011, as Sony and its "Only on PlayStation" mantra seems to indicate that the company is looking to foster the addition of specific content in multiplatform games that are on the PlayStation 3. Retailer-specific DLC, however, is the biggest problem. 

Game reservations have their importance. Purchasers for retailers like having some sort of metric to use when determining how many copies of a game that they need to order to satisfy consumer demand without buying too much. Reservations used to be a lot simpler. Back in the days of FuncoLand, for example, you just gave your name and phone number to an employee. That gave the store manager some idea of how many copies that his or her store would need when the game came out. In return, sometimes there were small trinkets that publishers would provide in exchange for this. T-shirts, dog tags, and other small tokens of appreciation changed hands. The big problem with this "honor system" was that many customers would not follow through on the intent to buy reserved games, leading to excessive copies of games floating around. When GameStop (and other retailers) moved to asking for a small down payment, the thinking was that the exchange of funds would respresent an early investment in the game and that more consumers would follow through and buy the game when it came out, or shortly thereafter. Reservation bonuses from publishers were still around to sweeten the pot. Up until this console generation, the preorder system made sense for all sides; retailers knew how much to buy from publishers, publishers made their money, and consumers were guaranteed their games and sometimes got something tangible out of the deal. 

Then... this console generation happened, and now the reservation system has gotten way out of hand, and it's the base consumer that loses out. 

Publishers still get what they want, as retailers are still buying their games. Gaming-specific retailers use reservations as metrics to determine an employee's worth, forcing employees to aggressively seek reservations from consumers and make the game-buying experience less cordial and more like an interrogation. Reservation bonuses are rarely tangible anymore; we've gone from t-shirts and pens to downloadable content like extra guns and costumes, which used to be included for free in games a generation ago. When it comes to part of a gameplay experience, such as levels, characters, or cases, these bonuses become items of ransom. In order to get these parts of the game, you have to reserve it at specific retailers... or you pay extra for it as DLC at some point, meaning that the $60 game is no longer $60. 

Now, with L.A. Noire, it's not just one retailer that has this "ransomware". It's now two different retailers, each with its own specific case to offer. Even if consumers cave to GameStop and reserve the game there, a case (or potentially two) is still missing. It's simply not possible to buy the full game with $60. It doesn't matter how insignificant that you may consider these DLC cases to be, the fact is that they're part of the overall game and have been stripped out for ransom-- or for alternate revenue above and beyond the arguably exorbitant price tag that remains for these games.

The reservation "bonus" is no longer a bonus. It's the ability to get closer to playing the full game as it was intended. It's legal extortion, and that's one case that Cole Phelps won't be taking on come May 17th. 

Recent economic trends-- notably rapid increases in fuel prices and associated price hikes in the general cost of living-- should be something that the console video game industry starts taking seriously. Everything is getting more expensive at a most inopportune time for the domestic economy, and with the decline of disposable income, it's only a matter of time before pain is once again felt by the console gaming industry. Consumers are going to be forced to make tough choices in the coming weeks and months, and spending money is getting more scarce as we enter the second quarter of 2011. Many tax returns have already been spent, eliminating one way to fund sizable entertainment purchases. 

We've been through this before; most notably during the gas price hikes of 2008. Back then, the industry was thought to be "recession-proof"... and yet developers were shuttered, publishers announced layoffs, and sales inevitably tumbled. Less than three years later, fuel prices are poised to not only eclipse the $4 per gallon barrier-- but far exceed it. In fact, some localities are already dealing with prices above $4.50. Prices have jumped 20 cents per gallon in the last two weeks, and with oil prices poised to make a run at $115 this week and continue to rise, the trickle-down effect of these increases will be felt by consumers in a number of areas. Food prices are rising. Utility costs are likely to rise, especially heading into the summer months. Other costs of living are certain to be affected as well, and consumers will have to account for all of these increases while managing paychecks that aren't reflecting these trends. 

This means that consumers, as they did back in 2008, will be forced to make sacrifices. There's no doubt that video games will be one of the major areas of decline. Software prices continue to be high, especially for being so far into the console generation. Hardware pricing has stalled, at least until probably June when Nintendo and Sony are expected to announce their price cuts, and the $250 price point of the 3DS is leading to a lot of caution now that the launch window is closing. Console game prices remain high, unlike iPhone/Android software, which is far more enticing for tight budgets. 

It's almost as if the console video gaming industry honestly believes that consumers can't live without their video game fix. It's a bad attitude to have, and it won't be long before even more damage is done to a business that was invincible five years ago. People within the industry need to wake up and recognize that there are steps that can and should be taken to ensure that the damage is lessened and that more people remain interested when the economy eventually recovers:

1. Hardware price cuts: Waiting until June will be too late for any momentum shift for the Wii and PlayStation 3. These cuts need to happen sooner, even if it takes the sails out of E3 a little bit. Since it's likely that gas prices will be at their highest just before the big show, companies must make a preemptive strike and attempt to generate interest before the worst hits. 
2. Software price cuts: There needs to be a signal to move software pricing down, at least back towards the $50 level. More titles should be added to each console's respective "Greatest Hits" lines, which should sell at a uniform $20. In short, making the first move to cut prices will show consumers that console video games can be affordable, even during hard times. Digitally-distributed titles, especially ones that have been available at retail for longer than 12 months, need price drops to Greatest Hits levels, no matter how popular the IP is. 
3. Pre-owned game cease-fire: We all know how the industry feels about pre-owned games. We also know that, thanks to constant connectivity, it's now possible to use alternate revenue methods(such as Online Passes) to attempt to force consumers to contribute something to the publisher's bottom line. It's time for a cease-fire. Reward consumers who buy new instead of taking such a hardline "They're not our customer" stance and stripping out content. The industry needs to at least make an effort to understand that consumers aren't buying used to spite the industry; instead, they're buying used to save a bit of money so that they can continue to afford playing video games in some capacity. 

Just like many consumers, the console video game industry is going to have to make some hard choices of its own if it wishes to remain relevant on a mainstream scale. While price cuts can initially hurt the bottom line and a temporary reprieve from the War on Used Games might seem like admitting defeat by some, taking these or similar steps would go a long way to rebuilding trust and faith from a consumer base that's gradually been eroding. If nothing is done and the industry continues down its path of self-centered greed and shortsightedness, a future of weak sales and a continuation of declining interest is all but assured. 

The alarm bells are ringing. The time to respond is now. 

Namco's Ridge Racer series and I have a long history.

Nearly 16 years ago, I played Ridge Racer for the first time on an import PlayStation unit at an independent game store. I was hooked almost instantly. It's not that Ridge Racer necessarily did anything different than other racing games that I'd played before, but it was colorful, fast, and the music stayed in my head long after my play session came to an end. I knew from that night on that I would be spending $300 on a PlayStation come September 9th, 1995... and that was only the beginning.

I've played almost every Ridge Racer game since. Ridge Racer Revolution was decent but felt more like an extension of the original when it debuted in 1996. Rage Racer followed in 1997, and it was a stark contrast to the earlier games as earning money for winning races and choosing the right car for each race were much different than the straight arcade style that the Ridge Racer games were known for previously. Ridge Racer Type 4 made tweaks yet again with the Real Racing Roots '99 campaign, improved visuals (like taillight streaks), and a jazz-infused soundtrack that still rates as one of the best around. I still own all of these, save for the original Ridge Racer, which I'm hoping makes its way onto the PlayStation Store at some point. 

When I bought my PlayStation 2 in 2001, Ridge Racer V was one of the games I got at the same time, along with NHL 2001, SSX, and Swing Away Golf. Ridge Racer V was a big jump in terms of graphics for the series, and the return of the original Ridge Racer course with a new coat of visual paint was amazing to behold. The lighting effects blew me away and the framerate had been greatly improved over the 30fps from the original PlayStation title. These visual improvements didn't get in the way of classic Ridge Racer gameplay, which was very important. The interesting story mode was gone, in favor of a return to a more arcade-style feel, but Ridge Racer V felt like a return home for a franchise that had undergone changes for the previous two installments-- and that was fine by me.

Getting an Xbox 360 and a PlayStation 3 over the course of this console generation, I bought Ridge Racer 6 and Ridge Racer 7, respectively. I wasn't initially a fan of the new focus on drifting and gaining nitrous boosts, but it grew on me. The visuals were improved once again, and seeing Ridge City in high definition was-- and still is-- jaw-dropping. I still own all three of these games, as well. As with Ridge Racer V, there were nostalgic nods to previous games in the series. Music tracks from past games were available for download. The infamous Ridge Racer helicopter looked better than ever, as did the original Ridge Racer course-- which was beautiful in its familiarity. Ridge Racer 6's World Explorer mode was an interesting way to approach single-player racing and the accent on collecting cars was reminiscent of Ridge Racer Type 4. I prefer Ridge Racer 7, if only because it feels like a more complete version of Ridge Racer 6 and the ability to adjust and tune vehicle parts was welcome. 

When I found out that Ridge Racer 3D was going to be a launch title for the Nintendo 3DS, I knew that I had to have it... even though I really didn't know what to expect from it. Screenshots weren't exactly promising,, but I was still excited. The prospect of Ridge Racer in 3D was admittedly pretty cool, and I had faith that we wouldn't see a disastrous effort like we'd seen with Ridge Racer DS... which was a sloppy port of an already-weak game in Ridge Racer 64. In a sea of average launch titles, I had hope that I could count on Ridge Racer 3D to be a good complement to Super Street Fighter IV. 

Then... I played it. A lot. 

Ridge Racer 3D won't win any awards for technical achievement. The frame rate returns to the the PlayStation's familiar 30fps and lots of visual touches that we've been accustomed to seem to be missing. The game really doesn't do much to break the mold that was set by the others in the series, but it's still a fantastic experience and was meant for me, the Ridge Racer fanatic. It's all about fan service, and Namco delivers it in spades with this game. Bits and pieces of many of the games that I mentioned earlier are here: classic race circuits, classic music, and classic gameplay. Car models aren't all that detailed, but seeing them approach (or blow by you) in 3D is pretty amazing. Seeing tracks from Ridge Racer Revolution, Rage Racer, and even variations of tracks from Ridge Racer 6 makes me smile. Music tracks from older games join with new creations to fill the soundtrack, and the built-in psuedo-surround effect from the 3DS' speakers adds to the quality. The Grand Prix progression is a cross between Rage Racer and Ridge Racer 7 as points are used to buy new vehicles and upgrades. The gameplay is pure Ridge Racer, no matter whether you use the D-pad or the analog disc, as you tear around the track and deftly drift through corners and hammer the gas to straighten out. There is an option to drift "on demand" with a button press, similar to Tokyo Highway Battle, but series veterans not only won't need this... but they won't want it. 

The formula feels similar to what Namco did with its Ridge Racer release for the PSP, but with a 3D coating. The experience is pretty long; a couple of hours into the game, I'm only just now unlocking the second tier of cars with more power and speed. I'm aiming to turn in a review for Gaming Nexus, but may do one here as well. What I can say, even at this early stage, is that Ridge Racer 3D is already my favorite 3DS game and looks to stay that way for at least a few more weeks. 

Thank you, Namco, for giving me the game that I didn't know I wanted. 

I've been spending a lot of time lately with The Masters: Tiger Woods PGA Tour 12. The game is addictive enough that it's pushing me over my review deadlines, and there's a lot to like about the game. Many of my concerns from the last couple of Tiger Woods games have been addressed with this year's title, from presentation improvements to the ability to play without the questionable Focus meter to delivering a pretty rich Career Mode that's blown me away. On the surface, all is well with Tiger 12... but there's one major change that I do not approve of and could potentially be a forebearer of things to come. 

First, a little background. In Road to the Masters, which is the new Career Mode in Tiger 12, you have to earn your PGA Tour card before hitting the circuit. You battle through an Amateur Tour, the Nationwide Tour, and then endure Q-School with the hopes of cracking the Top 25 in that event and getting a spot on the Tour. Once you get your Tour card, the golf season functions like it has in most other years. There are events every week to take part in, and in order to qualify for The Masters, your golfer has to be in the Top 100 in the EA Sports Golf Rankings. The overall goal in Tiger 12 is to become the best golfer in the world, overtaking such talent as Phil Mickelson, Tiger Woods, Dustin Johnson, Ian Poulter, and many others. To move up the rankings, you not only have to play consistently well... but you need to play often. 

Unfortunately, an improvement that was made to Tiger 12 in implementing DLC courses into the Career Mode was taken a bit too far. 

Yes, it's great that DLC courses are now a part of the actual schedule for your career, rather than simply for online play or for casual play. This adds value to the downloadable content. The problem is that the courses are tied to specific events on the PGA Tour schedule... and if you don't either own or buy the DLC courses required, your player is forced to skip that week of action. There are no substitute courses, and skipping weeks can be costly to your overall ranking. This is a bad precedent, as the game basically locks out events if players don't pony up more cash. 

In other words, to get the full Tiger 12 experience, as it's intended, you need to pay considerably more than face value for the game. This is worse than Online Passes and launch day DLC that arguably could have been on the disc. There's nothing on the box to indicate that you'll need to buy these courses, either. Unless you've read reviews-- and the reviewer actually calls this to your attention-- you'll have no idea that this tactic even exists until you've earned your Tour card and see an event as being locked because you don't have the course. Defenders of this tactic claim that missing a week or two isn't a big deal and that it doesn't have much effect, or they counter that even tour pros take weeks off due to fatigue or other reasons. These explanations are ridiculous. There are better ways that DLC courses could have been implemented, including allowing for alternate courses if the DLC course hadn't been bought or adding the DLC-specific events to the Tour schedule once the courses are purchased. 

I've spoken little about DLC when talking about previous Tiger Woods golf games despite its obvious inclusion and the potential for microtransactions. In years past, you could use actual cash (or Microsoft Points) to buy items from the Pro Shop if you didn't have the XP or virtual funds to do so. Costs for DLC courses also had been rising considerably, but buying them was completely optional and had no bearing at all on single-player action. With Tiger 12, the rules have changed. DLC now has a direct bearing on the retail product. It doesn't add anything; it merely completes the package that you already paid $60 or more for. 

Sadly, this tactic spoils what's an otherwise fun and addictive golf experience. I love playing Tiger 12 and, unlike some of my colleagues, don't feel the need to criticize it because it doesn't do enough that's new or because the formula feels tired. I think that it's a great game... but EA's DLC approach hurts the overall value significantly. How much? We'll see when my final review is completed and published. 

I was excited for Mortal Kombat. The demo played pretty well, albeit a little on the slow side. The special editions of the game looked pretty neat. It felt like a throwback rather than an attempt to keep expanding in the direction that the games took during the last console generation. It seemed like a day-one purchase for me, if only to support the revival of a fighting game that used to share the spotlight with Street Fighter some 15 years ago. 

At the same time, I was a little disturbed by some of the publishing decisions that Warner Brothers Interactive had made regarding the game. Different DLC for different retailers means that consumers have no way of getting all of the content that is available for the game when it launches without spending more than the $60+ that they're spending when they buy it. Then I heard about DLC characters after the fact, and after what Capcom pulled with their $5 per character pricing, I am less than excited to hear about any DLC characters-- especially before the game's launch date. 

With the addition of an online pass fee-- including the way that the company is disguising it from packaging and forcing retailers to tell consumers-- I'm officially done with Mortal Kombat. My Kollector's Edition preorder is getting cancelled today and I'll have to reconsider whether I'm going to buy the game at all. I'm sure that Warner Brothers isn't going to miss my $100, but it's the only way that I can send the message that I don't agree with any of these decisions that have been made regarding the game's content... errr... kontent. 

As with all of these cases of online pass usage, we're seeing the Industry Defense Force mobilize and defend the practice. Woe be the developers and publishers, for they do not profit from the sale of a preowned game... and all of you who buy them are no better than a pirate who gets the game illegally. After all, the industry doesn't see a dime from used game sales-- even though they actually got the profit already when the game was sold. Oh, and lest we forget the strain on the online infrastructure... even though there's no additional strain at all. Pity the poor industry. They are the victims here.

Unless these people actually work within the industry-- as programmers, artists, producers, or something else-- then I don't get why they blindly defend such ridiculousness. Apparently these people have money coming out of their ears since they buy everything new. Here's an idea: If you're worried about the industry not getting enough money, why don't you start sending donations? Come on. I dare you. Pick up that checkbook and write a $50 check to Warner Brothers, Electronic Arts, or THQ. Put your money where your mouths are. Of course, nobody will do this... and even if they did, publishers wouldn't know what to do with it. 

Preowned games are been around for decades, and, until this console generation, there wasn't this movement of vilify the practice and punish consumers who bought them. We can argue about weak trade-in values all day (and I'll agree with you), but game trade-ins have always made games and systems more affordable and preowned games are simply cheaper alternatives to buying new. $5 less is still $5 less, no matter how minor a difference that you think it might be. If you told me that you'd walk by a $5 bill lying on the ground or that you're not pleasantly surprised by finding a $5 bill in your jacket pocket, I have no problem calling you a liar. Sure, resellers like GameStop can be criticized for imbalanced pricing-- but they're not the only resellers around. eBay, Amazon, Best Buy, and others all engage in the practice. In going out of your way to see GameStop drawn and quartered, you're trying to do away with what's been an acceptable practice for generations. Let's also not forget that no matter what method of tender that is taken for the sale of new games at GameStop-- including trade-ins-- the company already paid cash money to distributors and publishers for them. Everyone got paid. 

The Industry Defense Force throws around terms like inflation and increased development budgets as reasons why we all need to suck it up and accept these anti-consumer programs. When's the last time inflation showed up in your paycheck? I sure as hell don't recall. Also, if you're going to use inflation to justify higher costs to consumers, then they can just as easily remind you that food and fuel costs are rising, too, and when a silly form of entertainment like video games becomes too expensive... they'll stop buying them. As for increased development budgets, that's the industry's fault. Big-budget games are popular because the industry put them out there and consumers bought into it. I'm willing to bet, though, that the development budget for Just Dance 2 isn't nearly the same as it was for Bulletstorm-- and yet Just Dance 2 killed it in sales. Imagine that.

Let's talk about the Industry Defense Force's other popular term: Entitlement. How dare consumers expect the same level of content and the same feature sets that we used to get included with our games until this console generation? Those things cost money, you know... and now that internet-connected gaming and DLC has given the industry the opportunity to finally charge for these things a la carte, consumers should just accept it. How about no? Why should consumers all of a sudden stop expecting online play, bonus costumes, cheats, and other features to be additional expenses after all these years? Should they accept it for the good of the industry? Should we stop questioning because, to quote Bruce Hornsby, that's just the way it is? I don't see why. We're paying 20% more for new games on average, and getting fewer features. That's not a case of entitlement-- it's robbery.

I'm frankly tired of reading that consumers are responsible for the well-being of the video game industry. I'm sick of reading comments, message board posts, and tweets that make it sound as though it's up to us to keep the industry going and that it's somehow our fault that developers and publishers are closing their doors. That's not a problem for consumers to be tasked with. It's an industry problem. If the industry crashed and burned tomorrow, consumers will find other sources of entertainment to pursue and spend money on. The onus needs to go back on the industry to rediscover the magic that it had during its period of expansion from 1995-2005. Instead of penalizing consumers with nickel-and-dime DLC and stripping out features from retail releases, maybe they need to make video games financially accessible and infuse them with value once again.  

And, don't look now, but Warner Brothers is looking to implement Online Pass into Batman: Arkham City. That's a single-player game. The future is, indeed, upon us. 

I came out pretty strong on Twitter recently, decrying the loss of instruction manuals as publishers such as UbiSoft and EA Sports have made moves to abolish print manuals in exchange for digital manuals that can be found as extra content on the game disc. While publishers are reasoning that eliminating such manuals is better for the environment, it seems evident to me that there are more significant factors at work here-- most notably the cost-cutting nature of such a move and the general lack of effort or desire to continue the practice. Defenders claim that new, in-game tutorials are an acceptable substitute for this omission, and while I can see their point, I don't agree entirely that it's acceptable. 

For starters, what if you wind up going back to a game after some time away and forget how to duck or cover, for example? I, for one, don't think to run the tutorial again for one move... so I usually consult the manual to check what the proper controller action is. I don't have to walk into another room to check my computer, and I don't have to quit the game in order to access the on-disc manual. I realize that it's an antiquated notion... but I actually read the manual, just like I have done for the better part of the last 30 years. Perhaps it's my own failure to adapt to an ever-changing climate, but it's damned inconvenient for me to have to jump through hoops to access a command list. I realize that publishers haven't been putting much effort into documentation for the last few years, but how much of the Earth are you really saving by eliminating what little documentation that you give us now? More importantly, do publishers think that consumers as a whole really buy into such a flimsy explanation? I sure hope not. 

That's the second point here. Saving the environment is indeed a great cause, but publishers wouldn't be making such a bold change to how video games are packaged without some sort of kickback on their end. Eliminating manuals cuts down on overhead and-- SURPRISE!-- cuts costs in a way that only the publisher benefits. Game prices aren't ever going to reflect cost savings in this era of industry greed. No way. You need to only look as far as Microsoft's digital distribution model for evidence of this. There's virtually no difference between buying digitally and buying in-store, except that you have to wait an hour or two to actually play your game once you buy it digitally. You're paying the same prices in Microsoft's Games on Demand store as you are at most retailers... and Microsoft's pricing is sometimes higher! Digital distribution is supposed to cut costs, but when do consumers see the benefits? 

I understand that I'm a bit of a dinosaur in comparison to the average video game-related personality these days. I won't pretend that "the way it's always been" isn't partially fueling my disdain when it comes to this topic, but I also think that the intentions set forth by the industry here aren't as noble as they're portrayed to be. Of course publishers aren't going to come out and agree; it's bad PR. Just once, though, I'd like to see somebody step up and just be honest when it comes to stuff like this. Consumers aren't all dumb. Some of us see what's going on. We know that video games are a big business. The difference is that the industry is more direct about its intentions during this generation than in any other generation before it, with changes that really only put more money in the industry's pockets. 

• Hardware prices are higher and the hardware has a higher defect rate during this generation than any before it. 
• Software prices are higher despite lighter content and fewer features. 
• DLC adds expense to software for things once found in games in generations past, such as game modes, costumes, and extra characters.
• Instruction manuals have gone from full content to four-page controller schematics to being phased out of existence in favor of in-game tutorials and online manuals.
• Game cases--especially for the Xbox 360-- have become more environmentally friendly as the cost of putting too much pressure on disc spindles, causing damage.
• Digital distribution hasn't cut costs at all; in fact, it's more costly since prices are the same in addition to energy and internet costs for download. 

All of these things, either directly or indirectly, steer extra revenue into the industry that was never there before. The loss of instruction manuals, while a minor omission or even welcomed by some, is just another screw being applied to the consumer. It's getting to the point that it's no longer accurate to point the finger at the industry for such behavior. Instead, we need to look at ourselves and point the finger of blame. As long as we continue to buy into and simply accept these changes without questions or changes in our buying habits, we're basically admitting that we're OK with paying more and getting less for our entertainment dollars. 

That's something that we can control, and unless we do, the next console generation stands to stick it to consumers even worse. Perhaps we should start bending over now. 

Last October, I wrote about what I perceive to be the dishonorable practice of review embargoes. I stand by my belief that the reason for many embargoes is to prevent early negative reviews for potentially spoiling sales of a game. Consumers can be excited about the game and buy it and launch day without reviews being made available until after many purchases have already been made. The cases of Medal of Honor back in October and of the recently-released Homefront (THQ for X360/PS3/PC) are classic examples of using embargoes to this effect. 

Homefront is turning into quite a mess for THQ. Sporadic reports of online multiplayer problems on day one were made worse as the day went along and reviews began seeping out from underneath the veil of the game's review embargo. Sites that broke the embargo as many as three days before it was lifted netted a Metacritic aggregate score of 88 back on March 12th. As I write this, the aggregate score has sunk to a 72. That's an 18% decline and moves the game, based on Metacritic's own definitions, from "generally favorable" to "mixed or average". Worse yet, THQ's stock values plummeted more than 20% on Homefront's launch day and many analysts drew a direct correlation between the stock value drop and Homefront's sinking review scores.

I'm hearing and reading testimonials from consumers who bought and played Homefront, and the experiences have not been favorable at all. Broken online play, sub-standard visuals, a very short solo campaign which doesn't even outlast Medal of Honor or Kane & Lynch 2, and various bugs and glitches all make Homefront sound like a arguable waste of $60 that could have been avoided if not for the embargo which at least initially saved the game from being ignored completely. I won't be surprised to start seeing copies traded in by week's end, much like we saw in the cases of Medal of Honor and even Bulletstorm, most recently. 

There are valid reasons that review embargoes can be employed by publishers. Embargoes can level the playing field so that site traffic is based on userbase or writing quality rather than simply being first. Embargoes also allow ample time in many cases for reviewers to devote ample time to gameplay experience, rather than rushing through and creating sub-standard content. i understand the arguments here, but I personally don't buy into them because review embargoes aren't uniformly enforced. This isn't always the fault of the publisher, especially if sites that break the embargo acquire the game through a retailer that breaks street date. The offending sites in those instances owe nothing to the publisher since the game was bought instead of sent by PR or the publisher for free. 

The problem is that there are other cases when sites tell PR sources or publishers that they're giving games a great score and are then given the green light to publish early, thus breaking the embargo and nullifying its purpose. This indirectly punishes sites who play by the rules and may potentially have some points of contention with the game in question. This tweet from Joystiq Reviews Editor Justin McElroy lends support to the notion that this kind of thing happens:

Hey video game friends? Please stop telling PR your scores so you can break embargo. You're hurting everybody.

If some sites get preferential treatment because they have glowing reviews of a game and can potentially inflate the Metacritic average while others have to bide their time and wait, then there's something very wrong with the system. Simply put, if you're not going to universally enforce review embargoes for all sites for whom you've sent review product to, then the practice of review embargoes should be dropped altogether. It's a shady practice made worse by selective enforcement. 

I encourage you to check out this column on the subject, written by Dennis Scimeca. Although Dennis has made some edits to his original column and there seem to be more allegations than evidence, he raises some valid points. The four websites that broke the embargo date all had scores of 85 or higher, which set the early aggregate score at its lofty starting point. Dennis has put word out to the sites to find out how they received copies of the game early; since some retailers received Homefront as early as March 10th, it is possible that street date was broken and the sites didn't have to follow the embargo-- but the possibility also exists that the sites were given permission to publish early. Will we ever find out what really happened? I doubt it. I do believe, however, that skepticism is warranted in this case. 

Sadly, I believe that this Homefront example will serve as proof that publishers and PR need to not only continue the practice of review embargoes-- but to also strengthen them and perhaps even stir discussions of extending them well into launch day in order to prevent negative reviews from impacting sales before units have a chance to sell. Worse yet, if reviewers wish to keep receiving review copies, they may be forced to play along without question. Perhaps this is a worst-case scenario, but it's also impossible to rule out... and that seriously harms the credibility of the industry and of the video game review process, all in the name of money. 

On March 11th, I made a decision to consciously back away from writing and Twitter while I do some soul-searching. I have multiple challenges that I'm dealing with at the moment, including stresses from work and a serious lack of confidence and motivation. I appreciate the kind words that some of my Twitter followers left for me, and I'm also sure that decision to back off after receiving a rejection notice (that I expected) from the ESA regarding E3 has something to do with my thought process. 

Since this is my personal blog-- although it's been largely gaming-centric since its creation-- I'm going to shoot straight and speak candidly. 

I'm honestly considering giving everything up. The blog, writing in general, Twitter, and so on. I have come to the realization in recent days that my dream of following in the footsteps of so many other writers that I admire just isn't in the cards. I'm not going to make anything out of myself doing what I've been doing, and I'm at a turning point where I am asking myself whether it's worth it to keep going, just for the sake of being involved in the gaming press in any capacity. I'm not certain that my writing quality is improving, and I am finding that a lot of what I'm saying about the industry in general is becoming redundant. I sound like a broken record when it comes to many issues. I still feel lost in a few areas, too, and that's nobody's fault but my own. I'm one voice in a cast of thousands, and I don't know that it's enough. 

I've tried to hold out hope that something would fall into place and give me incentive to pull things together. My dream of working "in the industry" for a living is really just that: a dream. I don't think that I've ever really had a shot at making that happen, and for some damn-fool reason, I had this thought that proving myself at E3 would make some tiny bit of difference. I put all of my eggs in one basket, and they all went rotten when the ESA announced its crackdown on attendance for this year's event. It's now one of those situations where I have to figure out why-- or if-- I want to be involved in the gaming press since my former goals are seemingly unattainable. Perhaps my reasoning is selfish, and you have every right to believe that. I just wanted the opportunity to prove myself on the big stage instead of doing what I've done for years-- reporting from home while colleagues are actually experiencing things first-hand. 

The rejection was the tipping point, but there have been other doubts rattling around in my head. My ADD is winning the focus battle more often than not, so working on news stories is very hard for me. I can't focus on them. I'm thinking about too many other things... what games I need to be playing, how I'm going to afford them, whether anyone is actually reading what I'm writing, and so on. I'm sure that some of you understand how difficult a battle this is. It's slightly easier to fight this battle when you keep telling yourself that you have something to motivate and drive you. I've also been frustrated by "real life" stuff that I can't get away from. I'm really unhappy in my current job, but if I want to survive, I have to suck it up and keep doing it-- like millions of others besides me. I get easily flustered and stressed when I have to deal with more than two people at a time and my mind races to what else is going on instead of what's in front of me. I was secretly hoping that fulfilling this dream of mine could have been a way out... to finally get a job that I knew I could do well and whose source material made it easier to battle the stressors and pressures that came with it. 

So... my status is in limbo right now. I know that's about as indefnite a status as there is, but I really have to do some serious thinking and can only commit one way or another when I know that I am ready to do so and when my crisis of confidence is resolved. 

I already have problems with launch-day downloadable content. Although discussions about the subject on Twitter with PR people and those "on the inside" have generated a few valid explanations, I'm still not 100% fine with the practice. I honestly don't care what the reasons are; if you're talking about launch-day DLC-- or even talking about DLC for a game that hasn't even launched yet-- I firmly believe that publishers need to step back and wait awhile before announcing it. At the very least, publishers could keep it quiet for a month and then talk about it all they want. That way, those who purchase early don't have to feel like they spent money on a game that arguably could have-- or should have-- had more content. I can accept explanations about certifications, especially with Microsoft's hardline attitude, but that shouldn't affect this situation. Keep a lid on it, wait a few weeks, then surprise us with news that there's new content ready to roll. 

See, I always thought that the purpose of DLC was to enhance games after they've launched, in order to promote replay value and get consumers to hold onto their games instead of trading them in. Now, most sane consumers really don't have a reason not to wait for the inevitable Game of the Year or Ultimate Editions. Those are the COMPLETE games that your hard-earned cash is spent on. Those of us idiots who buy on launch day get the incomplete versions, ready to go with multiple alternate revenue streams called DLC. If we'd just wait a few months, we'd get the DLC for free in most cases with these repackaged versions. 

But we don't wait... because we're too eager. We're too excited. We're too damned stupid to see the folly of our own ways. We want our games now, and if we have to pay more than $60 to see all of the content, then fine. 

Now, look where our "want it now" attitude has landed us:

Nobody who buys a single copy of L.A. Noire come May 17th will be able to access all of the game's available content, unless they purchase more than one copy of the game at $60, due to multiple (and different) preorder incentives. Sure, you can purchase access to these extra Cases and Suits for a nominal fee at a to-be-determined timeframe after the game has launched, but the copy of the game that you will be buying will not be a complete game. You can go ahead and argue that the extra Cases will probably be secondary to the game's story arc, and that's fine.

You can also continue defending such greed-driven practices all you want. Keep telling yourselves that we need to save the industry, or that games are just an expensive hobby and that we need to accept it. Feel free to keep applying the Inflation Variable, even though the average consumer will tell you that his or her paycheck sure as hell isn't inflating. I'm sure that some of you will be at least thinking, "Hey, if you can't afford it, don't buy it. Simple." Right? 

Here's a news flash for those of you who think this way: The video game bubble is already deflating, and people are indeed not buying what they can't afford. You're getting your wish, Industry Defense Force, but it's not good news for you. Fewer potential consumers equals fewer sales. Fewer sales equals less revenue. Less revenue equals lower stock prices. Lower stock prices equals fewer investors. Fewer investors equals less capital for developers and publishers. Less capital means fewer games released in the best of scenarios-- and the shuttering of development studios and even smaller publishers in the worst cases. Feel free to insist that trends "aren't that bad". 

I've seen this downturn coming for over two years, and the worst of it still isn't here. The industry will very soon have to deal with U.S. fuel prices that will easily eclipse $4 per gallon and potentially flirt with $5 if the perfect storm of events occurs. Disposable income will rapidly decrease and many consumers who were able to afford one or two games per month will be forced to cut back. You can believe that "people need entertainment", and that's fine... but video games are proven to be an expensive form of entertainment that requires a fair amount of money up front to enjoy. Other forms of entertainment-- going to the movies and dining out, for example-- will also be taking hits once gas prices eclipse $4, which could happen as soon as the end of March. These industries know that there's trouble ahead... and yet the video game industry continues to not only consider itself invulnerable... but it apparently believes that consumers aren't spending enough money for software at $60 per game. 

You want more proof that consumers are tiring of the current video game sales model? Look at this Nielsen report. Traditional video game spending is down while cell phone spending is up. Why might that be? One real possibility is that it costs much, much less to buy a game for your iPhone or Droid phone than it does to buy a console game or a game for your handheld platform. Even Nintendo, once thought to be a portable gaming juggernaut, is concerned. Reggie Fils-Aime's not-so-subtle jab at mobile phone games is arguably a sign of fear or weakness. Reggie doesn't want consumers to spend only a few dollars on a mobile game because he's concerned that they won't be as inclined to drop $40 on a 3DS game. He's rightfully concerned. Consumers spent LESS money on console and handheld video games despite being a year removed from the worst of the Great Recession. 

Am I saying that this L.A. Noire DLC stunt is the straw that broke the camel's back? No. Am I saying that a crash is imminent and that the sky is falling? Not necessarily. What I am saying is that the video game industry is reaping what it has sown. Fewer people are buying video games, and fewer still will buy them as the economy again wobbles towards recession because the industry has successfully priced them out of the market. The Industry Defense Force has long believed that video games are only for those who can afford to be in the club, and now they're going to get their wish. Hopefully they'll also have enough money to spend over the course of skyrocketing prices for food and fuel to keep the industry humming along like everyone believes it will. 

I've made it no secret that I hold many people who have managed to make being a part of the gaming press into a career pretty highly. There are lots of them out there, from freelancers to full-time website staffers, and I really can't name them all without probably leaving a few people out. It makes me feel pretty good knowing that I've managed to strike up relationships with a few of them via social networking. Even though the chances are small that I will never get to do what they do for a living, the fact that we can communicate on a similar level encourages me and drives me to at least try. As I sit here, getting ready to draft my first review for my new home at Gaming Nexus, I know that it's the support of these (and other) people that's helped me to get back on the horse and do something with the talent that I (apparently) have. 

Unfortunately, recent events also make me realize that some of the same people that I have had respect for also want to see me fail-- at least indirectly. In response to the ECA's recent decision to link press invitations to E3 with site traffic, which will likely all but eliminate any chance that I have at attending this year's event, I have been seeing some of these people approve of these changes and actually consider them to be better for everyone. I will not publicly call any of these people out, but I will say that the sense of entitlement among these privileged individuals is disheartening and disappointing. 

I can understand why the ECA is looking to curb access to E3 somewhat. New websites are springing up all over the internet, and there's only so much space to house all of the potential visitors and the industry members in one building. I can see that there's a sense of thinking that, just because you write a few articles for a website, you get to go to the big show. Lots of websites post this possibility when looking to hire potential staff members, as long as they can pay their way to and from the event plus the lodging incurred. From an enthusiast standpoint, any video game fan would love to attend E3... but from the ECA's standpoint, it's not about enthusiasts. It's about press coverage for the companies involved. Most people who attend the event either work in the gaming press or for the industry in some capacity, and I fully agree that this idea should be adhered to. Sure, there's time for fun, but many attendees should be there for a reason. Enthusiasts have their own events, such as PAX. E3 is, to coin a popular meme, serious business. 

I would've liked to have made this blog post solely about the ECA's decision, which is possibly a revenue driver more than easing logistic problems. After all, the ECA isn't necessarily denying access to websites and their staff. Instead, the explanation is that the ECA is happy to have you at E3-- for a fee. That's right; you can attend E3 with more than your allotted contingent provided that they pay for passes-- on top of all of the other expenses incurred just to get to and stay in Los Angeles for the event. If the ECA is hurting for cash, why not limit the number of passes for each qualifying site and then charge for each additional pass? That's a reasonable solution. The bigger and more established sites should have no problem covering these additional expenses, plus it would undoubtedly alleviate foot traffic concerns and likely weed out some of the attendees who are there for pure entertainment. 

What I don't understand is the perceived attack on those people who aren't part of "the fraternity". Sentiments such as "try harder" and "build your site" do nothing for websites who can't build without having proper coverage right from E3. Sure, writers can crib press releases and post assets, but readers-- the ones who give sites the requisite traffic needed to actually attend E3-- don't want that. They want news right from the show floor. They want impressions, pictures, and on-site interviews. Shutting out sites or severely limiting the number of attendees that get passes only hampers a website's efforts to grow. Of course, established megasites and writers are absolutely loving this; smaller waits in line at demos, more open appointments, and... less qualified competition. The big sites and writers know that E3 is important, despite what a few have been claiming recently... and, I'm sorry, but sending one representative to cover an event like E3 is a suicide mission. It's counterproductive. The quality of the coverage would be so diluted that readers wouldn't give a damn. 

Contrary to what some of these "fraternity" members think, there are plenty of people who do genuine work when they have attended these events in the past. It's unfortunate that some attendees make a bad name for a larger group, but this happens at any event. There's always gonna be Drunk-And-Likes-To-Fight Guy at bars, or people who use the Express Lane at the store to buy 25 items. There are outliers, and they don't represent the majority in any way. I've had the pleasure of working with volunteer members of the gaming press who have attended E3 in the past, and they just worked-- much like the same people who are champions for these new restrictions. 18-hour days of listening, walking, playing, talking, typing, and reporting... and they don't get a DIME, like some of these other people. Why would anyone want these people shut out or make them jump through hoops of fire just to get in the door?

This especially hits home for me, because I know that attending E3 would mean tremendous experience for me, and that I know that it's not about swag or parties... but despite my years of writing and paying my own dues (as best I could, given the rollercoaster that's been my personal life), it won't be enough for this one year that I actually have the financial ability to cover the expenses of travel and lodging. The ECA decision is one thing, but the reactions from some of these career writers are patronizing and insulting. It's almost as if they truly believe that they belong and the rest of us don't. It's like there's some unwritten list of arbitrary requirements that must be fulfilled in order to be considered "one of us". 

I'm not better than anyone else. I have never claimed to be. I have a strong passion for console video games, and I have all my life. I write with the hope that others may share a similar perspective... or maybe compare their own perpective with mine. I know that there are better writers than me out there, who have paid their dues and worked hard to achieve their status, and I respect them. At the same time, I believe that, even as a volunteer member of the gaming press, I deserve a similar measure of respect and the opportunity to do the same things that they do. They don't know me. They don't know what I can bring to the table. The same goes for dozens of other writers out there who are just like me; they work full-time, have families, and yet devote hours and hours to honing their craft. 

I don't do this for the money. I do it because I love what I do and I love video games. If enthusiasm for the industry is frowned upon, as it seems to be right now, then it really is a problem with the paid gaming press and its current fraternity. 

I'm not better than many of you, but are you really better than me? Is that really how it has to be? Think about that for a while.