Every writer knows that cliches should be avoided like the plague. But writers are busy little beavers, and given that a stitch in time saves nine, even the best writers occasionally find that slipping into familiar cliches is as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. This is true in game journalism too, where bad cliches can destroy good writing like a bull in a china shop. Seeing as how the proof is in the pudding, as they say, I now present, without further ado, my personal list of dumb-as-a-doorknob cliches that tend to be especially prevalent in video game journalism.

　　10. The top 10 list

　　Humans, in general, like to make sense of the world by organizing things into lists, so it's not surprising that "top games of all time" and "top games of the year" lists are staples for game journalists. Outlets could even be forgiven for the occasional one-off list like "Top 10 Mario spin-offs" or "Top 10 underappreciated game systems." But the top 12 video game toilets? The top 10 butts in gaming? The top 10 Pokemon we'd like to eat? Eventually we will run out of things to list and have to start listing our favorite lists. As for this list, it's OK for me to do it, because I realize it's a cliche. I'm immune to hypocrisy, you see. Also, I'm very humble.

　　9. The historical open

　　How many game reviews have you read that start something like this: "The Series X series has always been known for frenetic action, witty writing, and lots of references to pickles. Game X, the 17th game in the Series, doesn't change up this winning formula, but it has just enough new things to keep fans happy." True, these openers are a good way to familiarize readers who don't know about the series (both of them), but through overuse, this type of opening has become stale and predictable. I know figuring out how to start off a review of yet another Tom Clancy game is hard, but writers should at least try to come up with something unique.

　　8. Headlines with a "?" at the end

　　Here's a fun game to play: Any time you see a headline with a question mark in it, assume the answer is "no." All right, this isn't so much a game as it is a time-saving device. The fact of the matter is that the large majority of headlines that require a question mark will end up being proven false in due time. Sometimes the writer even knows they're false as the headline is written. So why do we see these interrogative headers so often? Because we journalists often get paid by the word, and writing about speculation pays just as well as writing about established fact. In the long run, the benefits of promoting the rare, true rumor probably isn't worth the dashed hopes and misinformation caused by the vast majority of inquisitive headlines.

　　7. 7/10 reviews

　　The 7/10 review has become somewhat of a joke in game journalism circles, connoting a game (and, often, a review) that is wholly unremarkable and barely worth the ink used to describe it. Even review scales that allegedly rate an "average" game as a 5/10 often see the practical-scoring average creeping ever closer to 7/10 as time goes on. This doesn't mean the score should be outlawed or anything, just that reviewers should be more willing to use the entire review scale--from 0 all the way up to 10--and not just clump most all of their reviews around a safe, inoffensive mean.

　　6. "Realistic graphics"

　　This isn't always a cliche; there are some games that actually have realistic graphics (Crysis comes to mind). But it's a little ridiculous to see this phrase bandied about for games populated by ogres and demons, or aliens and spaceships for that matter. When reviewers say that graphics are "realistic," they usually actually mean the game has detailed character models, smooth animation, and a consistent art direction. Why they don't just come out and say that is beyond me.

　　5. "Quirky"

　　These days, any game that isn't a first-person shooter or a by-the-numbers actionfest gets this backhanded compliment assigned to it. Games can have quirky gameplay, quirky graphics, quirky controls, or even a quirky plot, but all this all-purpose adjective does is tell the reader that the writer really doesn't know how to pigeonhole the aspect in question. Instead of explaining whether the "quirkiness" in question is a good or bad thing, many reviewers will throw the term out almost as a pejorative and move on to explaining other, more conventional parts of the game.

　　4. "Fans of X will enjoy it"

　　As in: "This game is generally awful, but fans of the genre/the series/the license it's based on might be able to overlook the flaws and enjoy it." Here's a news flash: fans, by definition, tend to show a slavish devotion to the subject of their fandom, frequently overlooking flaws that get in the way of unquestioning appreciation. This can go without saying, and generally should.

　　3. "Only time will tell"

　　The ultimate finisher to news stories and previews alike, "Only time will tell" is the tautological gift that keeps on giving. Wondering whether a "quirky" game can compete with the well-established franchises? "Only time will tell." Will those bugs be fixed in time for the release like the publisher promises? "Only time will tell." Will I be able to fit in this dress for the wedding? "Only time will tell." Yes, the phrase is almost always technically accurate, but it's also almost always a useless space filler. Then again, it does provide a nice, simple way to close out a piece. Will this lazy, dull phrase ever fall out of favor? I think you know the answer to that.

　　2. Reviews broken up into standardized sections

　　This has become a bit of an anachronism in major outlets in recent years, but reviews broken into distinct sections (such as "graphics," "sound," "gameplay," "fun factor," etc.) still manage to exist in some corners of the game journalism landscape. This phenomenon seems unique to game journalism as far as I can tell; I've never seen a movie review broken down explicitly into "acting," "cinematography" and "set design;" or a book review separated into "plot," "grammar," and "punctuation" sections. Even if the review isn't broken up, sometimes the final scoring will be. Either way, the format actually transforms a game into less than the sum of its parts--a random assortment of attributes that never comes together into a greater, cohesive whole. It's a lazy, overly simplistic way to organize things that must be excised from game journalism by any means possible.

　　1. "Fun"

　　The most overused word in gaming is the one that's the hardest to quantify. Entire books have been written about what makes a game fun, yet many reviewers will often say that an important game element is "extremely fun" with no elaboration or even a second thought. The maxim of "show, don't tell" comes to mind here; writers should show the player why the game is fun instead of simply telling them that it is. This doesn't mean the word "fun" shouldn't appear anywhere in a review, but it does mean the writer should justify the designation with a description of the experience that makes it self-evident to the reader why, exactly, it is fun.

　　--Kyle Orland