Press [A] to Start is live!

Press A to Start. What does that phrase mean to you? Maybe it represents the anticipated first step into an exciting journey? Maybe it doesn’t do much more than conjure up a variety of good memories spanning the lifetime of a beloved hobby. Maybe it represents something different altogether. To me, it represents the beginning of a dialogue – a conversation between myself, friends, and just as importantly - the digital realization of all the hard work by any given dev team. In fact, some of my most cherished gaming memories involve talking about games, just as much as playing them. But what then does the conversation revolve around? Gameplay? Sure, that’s a part of it. Narrative? That has a place too. The truth is, games can spawn any number of topics, from a variety of different perspectives.


When I set about creating Press A to Start, I was unsure where I wanted to begin – the way in which the internet has allowed bedroom journalists to self-publish their own thoughts regarding the gaming industry has provided a daunting cacophony of voices. Though in many ways, a large majority of people still tend toward the expected tropes of this field – previews, reviews, and the most antiquated element of the form – the final score (whether numeric or a ‘witty’ adjective). As such, I feel as though my own place within this space needs to be somewhat different, and I fully intend to remove as many arbitrary and stagnant elements as seem appropriate.


I have no personal interest in delivering previews of upcoming titles, as there are more reliable sites for delivering this kind of dross – which to all intents and purposes does little more than keep the wheels turning for the pre-order machine. Is it important to know about a game before it comes out? Possibly. We may have personal interest in seeing or hearing something about our favorite franchises, but beyond that the preview is redundant. It is of little relevance how it appears a game is shaping up, and of paramount importance how the finished product performs – you know, the one that sits in your hands after you buy (or rent) it.


Though my disdain of the preview is obvious at this point, I feel that the basic form of a review is still relevant. However, any reviews that I conduct will focus specifically upon my experience with the title. In looking at the state of modern gaming journalism, one of the main elements I find lacking is a sense of authenticity. To clarify, I consider authenticity in this sense to pertain to the user-end of the experience, and whether a wonderful piece of new software fulfills its obligations in relation to both its initial cost to the purchaser, and also the amount of time the specific product will likely keep someone entertained. In recent years, I have found myself on more than one occasion condemning a “professional” review for not only what it said, but perhaps more importantly, what it failed to.


In regards to the extremely antiquated ‘final score’, it is an element that I am determined to remove from my own writings. To spend as much time with a game as people like myself do, I find it tragic that the entirety of the experience which is poured upon the page can be so easily bypassed in favor of the final 8/10 or ‘AWESOME’. If people choose to frequent my page and read my work, I truly hope that they can engage with my writings, but ultimately use it solely as another viable perspective – not as the dominant one which drives their purchasing decisions. That is pressure I absolutely don’t want, and authority I do not deserve.