What this meant, however, was that most reviews would likely largely be a thousand words of praise.
Thing is, Id rather read a thousand words about why someone didnt like Uncharted 3, so long as the authors building a proper case, rather than trolling fans. In Parkins review, he outlines a grand critique against the Uncharted series as a whole, written through the lens of its latest release, and makes a credible argument for why Uncharteds highest highs naturally create unavoidable lows. Its a feeling thats been with me since the beginning of Drakes journey, but especially so in Uncharted 2, when players may miss the directorial cue from the game, such as a timed jump, and have to repeat it over and over again.
Other reviews mentioned this point, including Brads take on the game, but Parkin made it the focal point of his. By doing so, Parkin's review cast a slightly negative tone, but on the flip side, such concentration allowed Parkin to properly articulate the nuance of his argument, using his megaphone as a reviewer at a major outlet to make a serious point to a very large audience.
Maybe this illustrates a fundamental disconnect between the audience for reviews and the writers themselves. Time is precious, and when I make time for a work, I want my assumptions to be challenged, preconceptions torn apart. If Im wrong, maybe Ill learn something from it. This proved especially instructive with Demon's Souls, a game I was only able to understand by reading other people's passionate thoughts. Its possible to read something you totally agree with and come away with useful lessons, but Ive found the most instructive moments in life to come from moments involving viewpoints vastly different from mine. As someone who takes thinking about games pretty seriously, this extends to games writing, too.