Metacritic: A Thing I Feel No Guilt About

In a conclusion to a well-sourced feature on the pernicious uses of Metacritic, Jason Schreier wrote something that as a longtime critic, I cannot countenance. He wrote that "[Metacritic is] harmful to critics, who have to deal with PR pressure and the guilt of taking money out of people's pockets."
 

That's wrong and I'll explain why.

 First, last and always: You're a journalist or critic. There's always going to be PR people looking to influence your opinions. It was around before Metacritic, it'll be around after Metacritic. That's the price of the job.
 

Second and more worrisome, it moves the guilt for lost wages or compensation from the people who signed a contract in good faith to the critic who isn't a party to that agreement. Critics are not responsible for a) the contracts that publishers and developers sign b) for a third party's secret interpretation and secret mechanism as to how they collate and weigh an unknown number of reviews, the end result of which they call critical opinion c) the quality of a videogame they didn't make.
 

Guilt is for when I actually did something wrong. Guilt is not for when people who aren't me secretly interpret my thoughts, then though a secret mechanism weigh it alongside 30 other reviews and spit out a number which two parties agree to use for the exchange of money. If developers and publishers want to use that for the distribution of money, the only place I have in that conversation is to remind them reviews are subjective, I am biased and the mechanism they're using changes my language and skews my intent.
 

The critic's job is to have an opinion, write it as clearly as they are able and defend it. The critic's job is to express their synthesized thoughts on an experience, whatever they may be. Good and bad in the same review. Certainty and confusion. Ignorance and knowledge. Transparency and more transparency.
 

This is not to say I am perfect. I have been influenced by PR people. I have failed in articulating my thoughts and I have failed in which ones I chose to publish. That said, critics shouldn't feel guilty for other people's use of Metacritic and anyone who makes them feel they should is not their friend.
 

To presume to speak to Mr. Schreier directly,  the next time someone blames you for not making an incentive because of a delicate score, you tell them you've got some sympathy for them, but that's as far as it goes. And you say it just like that, too, because the contracts signed by developers and publishers are things that are their responsibility, and any guilt they want you to feel is something that gives them cover. Now, if you made a factual error in your review, that's different and that's legit and you fix that. You make damn sure that fix is reflected in the conclusion or score.
 

But your score doesn't take money out of the hands of developers. Deals that make the money developers receive from a publisher dependent on Metacritic (an entity that openly admits to skewing a critic's words) do.

 











 

 

 

 

 "The Bride" by Crime In Stereo. I listened to this all of my junior and senior years of college, and not merely for the phrase "your bachelor's won't earn half the debt that you've incurred." It remains poignant today. As an aside, I had to write this blog four times before I got it to where it is now. This one is the shortest, best and most defensible, I think.

Relentless Masters

We all have our white whales, right? We all have these objects we're looking for, these final pieces in a collection of things that make the whole thing fit together.

These segments which define how we search.

I flicker idly through CDs, whenever I go to a store that still carries them, for a copy of the Envy/Jesu split released by Hydrahead Records. It's not that I don't have the songs already, I do, but at the price iTunes asks for the split (roughly 13 bucks, Envy's side is about 16 minutes, at three tracks, Jesu's is almost 22 spread over two tracks) I may as well search for the CD.

And when Tower Records or Virgin Megastore still existed, I was fat and happy on the search. But now, the only places that survive sell used CDs, only vinyl or are Best Buy. This isn't mourning the loss of those stores. I've done that already, years ago. Forever 21 is where the Virgin Megastore and it hurt the first time I saw it. There's no longer even a dull ache. That battle got lost.

Real briefly: CDs weren't making as much money as they used to, because of a number of reasons, copying had something to do with it, but…it was also the fact that the public knew there was a tremendous markup and collusion to keep the price above about ten bucks.

So: With Virgin Megastore, Tower Records and local record stores stocking these loss leaders, real vulnerable, major labels (the people who create most artists and CDs) decided that price could be allowed to dip below $10, at Best Buy and Wal-Mart.

Dedicated record stores got the bum end of the deal. Big box stores had everything their customers wanted, but cheaper and with the powers of a massive corporation behind them. So those dedicated record stores went out of business. When the economics of the music business went from bad to worse, Wal-Mart and Best Buy divested themselves of their esoteric stock…which meant that the record labels who turned to Best Buy to carry their not Top 40 and evergreen stock suddenly had nowhere to go but the same record stores they had shit on.

There's only a couple places to go now and I know that what I want is out of print and is unlikely to reappear. The search continues, but it's futile.

But the desire in the search doesn't quite go away. I jumped into comic books about the time the ship of music had finally begun to sink for good. There's an argument I've traded one sinking ship for another and it's true, but comic stores still have lots of places and nooks to check for back stock. The search lives on.

Thus, whenever I go to a convention, I spend the majority of my time peering over longboxes looking for specific issues or specific collections.

Since the two collections I look for both start with the letter Q, I can tell pretty quickly these days what the odds are that a place'll have what I want. Both volumes have basically the perfect scarcity: They went out of print only recently, so there's a solid enough chance of being in the next forgotten half price bin that I keep looking, because the next one could be the last one.

The two volumes are:

1) The first Definitive Edition of Queen and Country, by Greg Rucka, a man who used to write for DC, and perhaps his most challenging work for that company was for a character called The Question.
2) The first of the six collections of the 36 issue ongoing series of The Question, which in turn, inspired Greg Rucka. This is called Zen and Violence.

That first Definitive Edition of Queen and Country, came back in print at the time when the publisher (Oni Press) relaunched their logo and I bought one, so that item can be crossed out, technically, but it's a second edition of a book, along with three other first editions. It's crossed out, but it might not be finished. Siiiiiiiiiiigh.

But! Zen and Violence is still out of print. And, thanks to the vagaries of fate, and a couple hours before my flight out of Tri-State area, I indulged in the search when I was in New York City.

I searched, high and low, for two hours, like a madman, for a copy of Zen and Violence.

I got up early, put far too much money into the New York City public transit system, and descended into the labyrinth of the NYC subway system and got to it. Of course, this is a Monday morning in NYC, so no self-respecting comic store is going to open before 11. So, I stopped into A MAJOR NEW YORK BOOKSTORE THAT PRIDES ITSELF ON MILES AND MILES OF BOOKS, to the better part of a half hour. I managed to leave with two deeply discounted philosophy books and a decent paperback by Lawrence Block, a New York author with many titles to his credit including Grandmaster by the Mystery Writers of America.

By that time, Forbidden Planet, apparently three blocks down the street, opened.

I left my bag with the attendant and went directly to work. Checked, first, the normal section. Then, I went to the place where, if it was there at all, it'd be there. The sale books. Not there either. I took a chance and found a gent with just enough tattoos to be knowledgeable, and asked about Zen and Violence.

Turns out, the guy who I asked, owned a copy of the volume himself. I remarked to him that looking for the volume itself felt like a search, which, given that I'm looking for the Question, it feels appropriate. (As I said that, I realized the truth of it.) He gave me three suggestions, one, St. Mark's Comics, Roger's Time Machine and the bookstore I already left. From there, I ran, back to THAT SAME MAJOR NEW YORK BOOKSTORE,

(A DIGRESSION REGARDING THAT MAJOR NEW YORK BOOKSTORE: It thinks of itself as the flagship for independent bookstores or whatever, but it somehow can't direct me to any of their paperbacks by Raymond Chandler. So, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that place.)

where I tore through their actually sizable comics and graphic novel section and did not find Zen and Violence. But! I found a copy of Greg Rucka's Stumptown on sale for $20. Greg Rucka is the next writer of note to pen the faceless hero's adventure.

And I'd been meaning to buy the comic, but the $30 price put me off of it. It's a sumptuous edition. It's not beautiful. But it's striking, well-designed, with excellent use of color, except for printing the excellent Matt Fraction introduction in black, which makes it hard to read against the deep aqua. It's probably worth the money.

But, as I was running from AFOREMENTIONED MAJOR NEW YORK BOOKSTORE to St. Martin's, the thought percolated, finally, like a finally drinkable batch of coffee: I still haven't found Zen and Violence, but look at what I've found along the way: Another Greg Rucka series involving a PI, two foundational pieces of philosophy and another entry in a blue chip New York mystery author.

I found, in other words, most of the ingredients for the Question. But, I also was made aware of the joy of finding things along the way. The journey itself ought to be enjoyed. The search has value independent of its endpoint.

Roger's Time Machine opened too late for me to able to go there and safely make my flight, so after St. Mark's was a bust, I took the subway back to collect my suitcase. And that makes me sad. That title, though? Relentless Masters? It's a 108 song, but also; Roger's Time Machine is the first place I'll visit the next time I'm in NYC. The search continues.





Not Relentless Masters, interestingly enough. There's things to say about this song, A Far Off Reason, but really, the riff is gorgeous. It's envy, and it's titanic in scope. I think, anyway. As always, play loud. Listen, friends, to that riff.

The Joker and the Luthor.

You just drew in your breath a little, didn't you? I did too.

Lex Luthor and the Joker interact. I completely forgot about this issue and it blew me out of the water. The way these “villains meeting” usually goes is they come up with an idea to kill one of their rivals and then one betrays the other so our hero can escape or win the day. It's mostly stuff for fans that really must know the answer who would win in a fight.

Enter Paul Cornell written and Pete Woods drawn Superman-free Action Comics run. Luthor is on a quest for more power and is being manipulated by everyone around him as he searches, vainly, for A Thing That Will Give Him More Power. (It's called a black sphere, which is a conduit to something that I'm not sure of, but it involves the refuse of last year's crossover. Literally.

The crossover threat spun out of the Green Lantern universe and ended up involving the Black Lanterns, who were evil. Or wanted to restore death. Or something. Look. What matters is that Luthor, for a two, three, four hour period was given incredible power to save the Universe from a extinction level threat. It was taken away from him when the Earth was no longer in danger of being killed.

He thinks, via these black spheres, discarded bits of malevolent energy from the black rings of the alien invaders, that he can harness an incredible amount of power. It should surprise no one to hear that Lex Luthor, man of Action, in this case, has cataloged their location and has made a list of all of them. There are a number of these strewn across Planet Earth, some in cities made entirely of traps, some in the Arctic Circle, some being guarded by Gorilla Grodd, but ignore all that for one sweet moment: The next one on the list is in the Joker's cell in Arkham Asylum.

Oh. Shit. Yes.

And before you begin, “but James, I don't know much about the Joker or Lex Luthor to pick up on many of the details that would make this thing sing” I tell you, “Trust me, you already know what you need to.”

Here's what you need to know: Lex Luthor is a man of science, devoted in two duties, one to advancing the human race and the other to kill Superman. (Bet you knew that already.) The Joker is a Nietzsche-inspired villain who believes life is a black comedy, kills lots of people and dresses up to do it. He's a deranged nihilist, in short. (Bet you know that already.)

And that's what makes the issue great, the multiple dichotomies, the multiple levels.

For all Luthor's Promethean posturing, he's a villain. He'd murder any number of people and commit crimes against humanity to kill Superman, a being that has made Earth its home and protected ordinary humans from extra-terrestrial invaders, falling rocks, guys with guns and anything dangerous or evil that the alien can put himself between humanity and it. The Joker makes no pretense to nobility. He's deranged, psychotic and willing to commit despicable acts because they have been done before and not punished.

Lex Luthor believes you are as you make yourself and the Joker believes that's a game for suckers.

You've got Lex Luthor, realist, man of science, there is a flow of time and it is a line kind of guy. You've got the Joker, the feral, violent nihilist, who believes history is multiple choice.

Lex Luthor is very serious about the future. The Joker lives in the moment. He kills in the moment, too, but that's another story.

Hell, both of them are serious about their superhero antagonists. Lex Luthor needs, must kill Superman, because the human race would evolve better with Superman out of the picture. The Joker, on the other hand, continues to use grisly means just to get Batman to see his point.

Or in other words: Chaos versus Reason, played in the key of villany.

But the most surprising part, is not that the Joker can see into the plot, not that Lex Luthor is being given the run around by a robot version of his arch-enemy's lover that knows it's a robot, but that the Joker is a romantic. The Joker was transformed by the loss of his innocence, to the point where he well, just look to your right.

That's...a really simple origin. He mistook meaninglessness for futility. Luthor came to the table ready to bargain, ready to interrogate and ready for any kind of hidden scheme. It is not lost on me that there really is something with a hidden scheme, in the room, something that can be bargained with and something that ought to be interrogated in that room, but unless Cornell pulls a “I knew it all along,” which I don't think he will, Luthor can't see it.

Hell, all Luthor had to do was ask, but of course, that was the one thing he couldn't do. The Joker might be bizarre, and irrational, but Luthor, the man who expected secrets within secrets and got the truth. Of course, from the person that Luthor expects the truth, there are secrets within secrets.

Back to the Joker, though. The Joker lives in a universe where people hold back extinction on a nearly annual basis, within the timeline and he's still hung up on the idea that life did not birth him with a meaning. Which might be why he's stuck in a box (even if he could escape it if he tried) and Luthor's out slobbering over power.

Anyway. Action 897. It's a really, really good issue and contains some cool philosophical stuff that's fun, even if you don't care about Superman or Batman villains.

Dillinger Escape Plan (who'se shirt I am wearing now) playing Nine Inch Nails' Wish, with, Nine Inch Nails. One of the lyrics works pretty well for the Joker. "I wish there was something real. I wish there was something true." Also, video is so goddamn sick. Press play already.

A Shot At the World

My perspective on philosophy is very, very simple: Make it applicable.

I presented a little bit of Gramsci in a class and tried to go in a different direction, which worked sometimes and didn't at others. I made it personal. Like, painfully so. We are the consequences of our actions and the influences of the people we've gathered around us, yes? So I asked, what behaviors have rubbed off from former lovers and that immediately focused their attention. Human nature is a process, yes?

Human nature is in the little things we do or don't. The tiny bits we get comfortable with, like crossing our legs or tapping our fingers on the desk. I don't view it as something grand, then. If you want to see human nature, don't just look at things like having to die, but also whether you urinate in the shower or your body language while ordering coffee.

According to Gramsci, human nature is something learned, not solely something installed on the harddrives of our psyche by our extraterrestrial creator. (Yes, God and computers. It's a bit of a cliche, isn't it?) But I looked and I saw open eyes and even a look of shock on a couple faces. when I applied it to a domestic point. Something snapped into place behind their pupils and watching that transpire is a feeling that's better for my soul than a hundred mental health days.

That's what philosophy ought to be. It ought to be something that shocks and surprises, like going through a haunted house from the inside out. It should implore its practitioners to ask deeper, more probing questions and for a brief moment, it might have. This all is very idealistic. In this case, it's my idealism and that makes all the difference. (It doesn't.)

It was that granular applicability that made the point corporeal, powerful and frighteningly useful. Given a little more time, the discussion (a kid just admitted that he took his parents lives for granted, for God's sake!), cut off, could have been interesting. It wasn't to be, but I got something special out of it nonetheless. I got a single moment of clarity, an instant of demystifying power against a lake (not an ocean or sea) of unimpressed faces. I could get used to that.




I am listening to a lot of Thursday, in quantities that I never did before. A City By The Light Divided has been keeping me company, but it's War All the Time that I listened to through first. Asleep in the Chapel is off War All the Time, and it's strange in that when I don't pay attention, I like it more. But when I try to describe why, I can't. The verses are so good, the chorus less so. Plus, it uses the phrase "sing hallelujah", which almost always scores good marks in my book.