A few weeks ago I wondered what might change for Play Magazine now that Dave Halverson has stepped down (or over, or up, or however he’d characterize it) from the Editor in Chief position. Well it only took a month: the new EIC, Brady Fiechter, announced in his very first Letter from the Editor his intention to abolish review scores from Play altogether.

Maybe. His exact words:

Yes, dear reader, I am tired of scoring games, as is the rest of the Play staff, so take this as a warning: next month you may not be seeing scores any longer.

That issue's reviews reflect all the clarity and certainty of his declaration: some reviews have a numerical score, another has a “VR” (very recommended, I presume?), and their rating system key now simply says “TBA?”

Cynics might point out that given the flak Play has taken over a run of… er, "inordinately generous" review scores it’s issued to games that nobody anywhere seemed to enjoy as much, this isn’t shocking. (The definitive example being Lair, a mediocre brown-tinted Rogue Squadron rehash turned nightmare by horrendously inadequate Sixaxis motion controls, which Play awarded a baffling 9 out of 10.)

Personally, I think the lack of decisiveness is the real criticism here – especially when abandoning review scores would be such a tremendous, worthwhile move to make.

I’ve always been a little cool on the idea of assigning numbers, grades, stars, percentages or whatever other abstract bullshit system people cook up to shorthand a game’s quality. We do it at Game On, but not for lack of trying. At the end of the day, though, the feeling was that people reading game reviews have grown to expect a score of some kind.

It’s a shame, because scores make slaves of all of us. As a reviewer, I’m a slave to making sure there’s some consistency in my scoring: every game I review, I feel obligated to make sure the number I’m assigning somehow “checks” with numbers I’ve assigned to prior games, and – like a couple guys standing at a urinal – I can’t help but glance at other outlets’ numbers just to see how my own measures up.

As a reader, it trips a fuse in our rational thinking, lulling us into mistaking a number for an end-all, be-all statement of quality that renders any mitigatiing or qualifying text or firsthand experience superfluous, rather than seeing it for what it is, a symbol. You see this with countless readers who openly declare they won’t bother with games that score below an 8, or regard a 10 out of 10 as a “perfect” game (rather than merely the highest score). I’m reminded of the famous painting by René Magritte:

Likewise, a number is not a game.

But apart from those sorts of cages numerical scores create for us to think within, they’re just artificial. If you were sitting with a friend in a bar, and he asked you how a game was, you wouldn’t say “I’d give it a 7.9… no, wait, a 7.8. Yeah, definitely a 7.8.” Or at least I hope you wouldn’t, just as I’d hope if you did say that, your friend would look at you like you asked him if it was wrong you thought about killing your sister so you could have sex with her.

The arguments number slaves have to engage in – like the difference between a 7.8 and a 7.9 – lie somewhere in that fuzzy border between mental retardation and good old fashioned insanity. It’s like arguing over the finer points of Klingon grammar, obsessing over the minutia of an invented system that doesn’t really mean anything, anyway.

Now back to Play. If they do scrap any sort of scoring system – not numbers, not grades, not codes or Pac-Man pellets or joysticks or whatever other thing – and just stick to letting the review text speak for itself, it will be a brave thing for these reasons:

First, it puts the burden on the writer. Without a number to use as a crutch, you actually have to explain what you think, rather than just show it.

Second, it puts a burden on the readers. No more skimming numbers and going about your business – they’ll actually have to read now, and making people really read is something that scares insecure writers.

Third, it opts out of aggregate review sites like Gamerankings or Metacritic. These sites – intended or not – have changed game reviews, since even the most responsible writer can’t help but consider them when penning a review, wondering where his score will fall in the average and reinforcing this obsession with numbers over content.

Fourth, and finally:

A couple years ago, Chuck Klosterman asked why there wasn’t yet a Lester Bangs of video game writing. Readers and writers are still trying to come up with an answer, but most agree that game writing simply hasn’t matured enough yet to allow for a Lester Bangs or Hunter S. Thompson, or even a Roger Ebert.

I suspect if we could get away from this over-reliance on symbols to tell the story and were forced to actually talk about a game with words, it might help that maturation process along a little bit.

It certainly couldn’t hurt.