If Electronic Arts executives have any stones whatsoever, Polygon opinion editor has fouled up epically.
In fact, it should wind up being one of the most epic foulings up in any genre of journalism in journalism history.
Just what did Kuchera do?
Well, EA's director of digital communications, Chris Mancil, wrote a blogpost praising Breitbart UK writer Milo Yiannopolous. In passing he mentioned that Kuchera had some worthy ideas on how Twitter could better handle harassment on its site.
For this, Kurchera freaked out. He tweeted EA demanding that someone at the company intervene with Mancil to remove a link to a column Kuchera published at Polygon.
From this we can glean the full extent of Kuchera's irrationality: apparently one may not praise Kuchera if they happen to be praising Yiannopolous at the same time. And if they do, Kuchera will complain about it to that person's employer. That's how authoritarian, how stunningly eager to abuse his power, Kuchera has become.
Since his meltdown many other social justice warriors have joined Kuchera's chorus, going even further than Kuchera and demanding that Mancil be fired.
This brings us to a very interesting question: just how much power does Kuchera have? How much power do games journalists have?
At first glance,it might seem that they have a great deal of power. They're considered by many to be the gatekeepers of the industry. They have the power to decide which games get coverage, and which games don't.
So surely games developers and publishers must be sensitive to their whims and demands, right?
Well, perhaps not so much.
The relationship between the games industry and games developer is far more symbiotic than many might give it credit for. While games journalists may have the power of gatekeeper at their end of the relationship, games developers and publishers have the same power at their end.
They have the power to refuse to grant interviews, or even release review copies of games, to journalists with whom they are unwilling to interact.
Therein just how badly Kuchera has fouled up.
It takes no more than a cursory look at Mancil's blogpost to recognize that Kuchera is being hilariously unreasonable and, in fact, unprofessional. To give in to Kuchera's demands would only reward that unreasonability and unprofessionalism from someone who writes for a publication that EA actually pays for advertising.
As an online website with no paywall Polygon literally has no source of revenue other than their advertisers. Kuchera is literally making demands of the hand that feeds him even as he embeds his incisors into it.
There's really only one way EA can respond: they must pull their ads from Polygon, and refuse to restore them until Kuchera is no longer employed by the publication. Other games developers and publishers should also recognize Kuchera's behaviour for what it is and do the same.
In other words, if Polygon will not fire Ben Kuchera, the games industry must fire Polygon.
No more ad revenue, no more review copies of games, no more access of any kind. The games industry must exercise its gatekeeping power and cast Ben Kuchera outside its gates. If Polygon insists on remaining attached to Kuchera, it should share his predicament.
If this seems unreasonable, games developers and publishers must remember: Kuchera would enthusiastically do the same to them.
Showing posts with label Ben Kuchera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ben Kuchera. Show all posts
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
The Economic Impact of Unethical Games Journalism
Regular Bad Company readers may recall my inaugural Gamergate-themed post, wherein I took one Henry Smith to the woodshed for his portrayal of gamers strictly as "rich white men with expensive toys."
More than simply false -- gamers come from all races, genders and walks of life -- it was incredibly shortsighted.
It was shortsighted for more than just the misapplication of what he claims as his own ideas. It's also oblivious to the people to whom the ethical issues associated with Gamergate matter most.
Simply put, the "rich white men with expensive toys" argument has virtually no understanding of to whom these issues are most important. Simply put, the less money a gamer has to spend on their hobby, the more important these issues are.
Upon its release a AAA video game can cost approximately $70. For gamers who partake in the hobby on a low-income basis this can present a serious quandary, particularly if they don't want to wait for a second-hand copy of the game at their local EB Games or on Kijiji. If they're going to spend $70 on a new video game, it's especially important for these gamers that they choose wisely in a field that, like all others, offers no guarantees.
Perhaps more than anywhere else, low-income gamers rely on games journalism to give them an indication of which games they should spend their money on. So when games journalists give glowing reviews to AAA games that are simply not up to snuff on a technical basis -- Dragon Age Inquisiton being a prime example -- they have betrayed their audience to an unconscionable degree.
No one should expect perfect objectivity from video games reviewers. After all, many of the key elements of a game -- graphics, music, sound effects, play format -- are subjective measures. However, the mechanical aspects of a game: controls, artificial intelligence, processing coherence (whether or not the game is glitch-free or is glitchy as all hell) -- are not. If a game is lacking in these measures it is automatically a bad game, regardless of whether or not some games journalist prefers its subject matter or finds it sufficiently caters to their tastes or political opinions.
Economics teaches us about the concept of opportunity cost. Explained most simply, opportunity cost is the best option, in terms of marginal utility, foregone for the purpose of an option selected.
In the case of a video game purchase it's not unreasonable to suggest that the opportunity cost of a bad game purchased is a good game purchased in its stead.
For the individuals fomenting the cancer at the heart of games journalism -- journalistic standards sacrificed for the purpose of promoting the "social justice" agenda -- opportunity cost is also an applicable concept. For them, a game produced that does not serve their agenda represents a game not produced that does serve their agenda. This is obviously an issue with any game, but for AAA games, the production budgets for which can be in the hundreds of millions of dollars, this becomes far more acute.
Social justice warriors among the so-called "elite" of games journalism have unquestionably tilted their ratings in favour of some games, including AAA games, that didn't deserve the ratings. If the result is that gamers purchase games that aren't worth the money, that will give developers an incentive to produce games that successfully pander to the "social justice" agenda even at the expense of game mechanics. If this happens, these particular games journalists have just succeeded in doing something tremendously pervasive: they've shifted their opportunity cost from themselves to the gamers who also happen to be their customers.
You're welcome, I presume.
The lower the income of a particular gamer the more negatively impacted they are not only by any journalistic trend that may mislead them into a poor game selection, but also that any journalistic trend that encourages a decline in average game quality.
My observation is that the so-called "elite" whose activities have given rise to #Gamergate are too drunk on power they don't deserve and don't know what to do with to have even considered the consequences of their actions. In the famous words of Mal Reynolds: I don't credit them with an overabundance of brains. And so I cannot put this past them.
This is the kind of thing that facilitates the decision to make everything else secondary to a political agenda -- just don't bother to think about what the unintended consequences could be. This is rooted in the conviction that no price is too high to pay for "social justice" ...even if the "justice" being pursued is just one narrow, almost narcissistically narrow, view of it.
Some of them simply aren't predisposed to think of the consequences. Others, like Ben Kuchera, seem to literally be having too much fun abusing the power they've been given -- sneering at dissenting voices all the while -- to care.
One way or the other, regardless of Henry Smith's caricature of gamers as rich white males, it's the poorest gamers who actually have the biggest stake in #Gamergate. The economic impact will invariably fall hardest on them.
More than simply false -- gamers come from all races, genders and walks of life -- it was incredibly shortsighted.
It was shortsighted for more than just the misapplication of what he claims as his own ideas. It's also oblivious to the people to whom the ethical issues associated with Gamergate matter most.
Simply put, the "rich white men with expensive toys" argument has virtually no understanding of to whom these issues are most important. Simply put, the less money a gamer has to spend on their hobby, the more important these issues are.
Upon its release a AAA video game can cost approximately $70. For gamers who partake in the hobby on a low-income basis this can present a serious quandary, particularly if they don't want to wait for a second-hand copy of the game at their local EB Games or on Kijiji. If they're going to spend $70 on a new video game, it's especially important for these gamers that they choose wisely in a field that, like all others, offers no guarantees.
Perhaps more than anywhere else, low-income gamers rely on games journalism to give them an indication of which games they should spend their money on. So when games journalists give glowing reviews to AAA games that are simply not up to snuff on a technical basis -- Dragon Age Inquisiton being a prime example -- they have betrayed their audience to an unconscionable degree.
No one should expect perfect objectivity from video games reviewers. After all, many of the key elements of a game -- graphics, music, sound effects, play format -- are subjective measures. However, the mechanical aspects of a game: controls, artificial intelligence, processing coherence (whether or not the game is glitch-free or is glitchy as all hell) -- are not. If a game is lacking in these measures it is automatically a bad game, regardless of whether or not some games journalist prefers its subject matter or finds it sufficiently caters to their tastes or political opinions.
Economics teaches us about the concept of opportunity cost. Explained most simply, opportunity cost is the best option, in terms of marginal utility, foregone for the purpose of an option selected.
In the case of a video game purchase it's not unreasonable to suggest that the opportunity cost of a bad game purchased is a good game purchased in its stead.
For the individuals fomenting the cancer at the heart of games journalism -- journalistic standards sacrificed for the purpose of promoting the "social justice" agenda -- opportunity cost is also an applicable concept. For them, a game produced that does not serve their agenda represents a game not produced that does serve their agenda. This is obviously an issue with any game, but for AAA games, the production budgets for which can be in the hundreds of millions of dollars, this becomes far more acute.
Social justice warriors among the so-called "elite" of games journalism have unquestionably tilted their ratings in favour of some games, including AAA games, that didn't deserve the ratings. If the result is that gamers purchase games that aren't worth the money, that will give developers an incentive to produce games that successfully pander to the "social justice" agenda even at the expense of game mechanics. If this happens, these particular games journalists have just succeeded in doing something tremendously pervasive: they've shifted their opportunity cost from themselves to the gamers who also happen to be their customers.
You're welcome, I presume.
The lower the income of a particular gamer the more negatively impacted they are not only by any journalistic trend that may mislead them into a poor game selection, but also that any journalistic trend that encourages a decline in average game quality.
My observation is that the so-called "elite" whose activities have given rise to #Gamergate are too drunk on power they don't deserve and don't know what to do with to have even considered the consequences of their actions. In the famous words of Mal Reynolds: I don't credit them with an overabundance of brains. And so I cannot put this past them.
This is the kind of thing that facilitates the decision to make everything else secondary to a political agenda -- just don't bother to think about what the unintended consequences could be. This is rooted in the conviction that no price is too high to pay for "social justice" ...even if the "justice" being pursued is just one narrow, almost narcissistically narrow, view of it.
Some of them simply aren't predisposed to think of the consequences. Others, like Ben Kuchera, seem to literally be having too much fun abusing the power they've been given -- sneering at dissenting voices all the while -- to care.
One way or the other, regardless of Henry Smith's caricature of gamers as rich white males, it's the poorest gamers who actually have the biggest stake in #Gamergate. The economic impact will invariably fall hardest on them.
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