A Hill to Die On
I just finished one of the most grueling games I have had the displeasure of going through, an AAA title nominated for multiple awards and a horde of fans to sing its praises (sometimes I feel like I was playing a different game to the one they play). Had I played this alone, I would have dropped it some tens of hours before. The friend who played with me was no more enthused to finish the game, but we were both doomed by our insistence to stay committed to "let's not pass judgment before we've seen it in full". And so, holding onto slivers of fun few and far between, we plodded through. It was a pyrrhic victory, as we both breathed merciful release when the credits rolled. A sour game with sour ending and bitter aftertaste.
That's honestly not I want from a finale, especially since we have sunken quite a lot of hours into this, hours that we could have used to play something else.
I practically liveblogged this game to my circle since we started back in January. The four of us do this often, the chat room littered with stream of consciousness thoughts for various media. Sometimes we just vicariously experience things through each other. Sometimes we add to the discussion, especially if someone else in the group has had the chance to experiencing it themselves. It straddles the line between private and public reviews, and if any of us would later write a "formal, published" review, we could pull from the scattershot notes and conversations.
You won't see reviews like that on this site, though not for the lack of trying.
When I started blogging, I wrote book reviews. I enjoy reading and writing down notes, but it took me several failed blogs (including one with animanga/game focus) to realize that I don't actually enjoy writing media reviews for other people. I write reviews mostly for myself, as a way to process what I see/watch/play. Things for me to ruminate, consider, research, sometimes just vent. When the review is public, I feel the pressure to make it sound even and well-written (even when writing the opening paragraph I felt compelled to attach a note to clarify that by "sour ending" I was not referring to unhappy ending or something of the sort, just the execution soured me), to do my homework in dissecting it critically, to cover all the sides, to make it feel useful. But useful to who? I'd always believed stories call people, and a story that's not mine might be someone else's. And nuance in the open internet is hard to come by. I could have loved a flawed game with all my heart, warts and all, and someone would be unhappy that I would dare to point out the flaws. I could admit a show is perhaps great for a lot of people, but I couldn't get into it. Comment sections degraded into cesspool of dysfunctional arguments.
So I wrote reviews for myself, as personal notes, until I found my people. It might sound like I risk keeping my views insular, but this mini media club slash creative circle allows us to compare notes, ask questions, sift feelings, work through confusing/unnameable discomfort, and challenge views without the hostility that might come from large fandoms or anonymous strangers. I could vent that X sucks without fearing that someone would flood my inbox to tell me how stupid I am, or spend my sweet time composing 1000 words on my dissatisfaction with this aspect of the book. Sometimes, I compile the entire thing and rewrite them into a more coherent form back into my personal notes.
We finished the game 9 hours ago and I'm still reeling, though dumping it on my friends had helped me give shape to my hangups and give name to the qualms nagging in my head. Really though, I can't shake the feeling that I should also work on my obstinacy and DNF more things. One of these days, one will find me dying on that hill I keep digging.