The frequency of new material here on my lonely blog has decreased considerably since I first began. My continued employment is partly to blame, as is my tendency to write long posts (which, in the absence of abundant free time, are too often started and never finished). Consequently, I've been juggling a backlog of unfinished posts on top of an even larger backlog of unfinished games.
To give myself some room for opining without committing to 3500-word blog posts, as well as to create a dumping ground for opinions that simply aren't worth that many words, I've finally decided to join the rest of the world and make a Twitter account. (Now, finally, my thoughts can be limited to 140 characters!) I can't guarantee that I'll actually use it more than once a year, but it might be cool.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Roger Ebert & Video Games as Art
It was many years ago that Roger Ebert first claimed, controversially, that video games are not, and never will be, a form of art. (He wrote about the subject on a number of occasions since then, at times giving a little more credit to video game development as a creative endeavor but ultimately maintaining his stance. I don't want to summarize the whole drama, which occurred over several years, but you can still find his articles if you go out and search for them.) The typical response from a subset of video game enthusiasts was, and still is, to treat him like Hitler for having such an opinion. Although Ebert hadn't said much about video games since 2010, people never did seem to shut up about it, and his recent death has prompted a revival of the tired debate.
And, to put it bluntly, I'm a bit disgusted by how that debate is going. I've always thought that the question of video games as an art form was an interesting thing to discuss, but I've never been on a crusade to prove one point or the other, because I have things to do and because I never really thought it was a crusade-worthy issue. Some people, however, were seriously upset by Ebert's opinion... so upset, in fact, that they never got over it, and went on Twitter after his death to get the last word. To be honest, the problem with this behavior isn't that it's tasteless or childish, which it is. The problem is that they really do care this much. The problem is that they're so insulted by the idea of a video game being less culturally relevant than a famous painting or a piece of music — or even a critically acclaimed film — that they spend more time arguing about it than actually playing the video games they supposedly enjoy. They think it's their duty to defend video games from these accusations of — I don't even know what — being toys, perhaps, which is what they are.
The people who have devoted so much time to debating with Ebert on this issue, both during the last few years of his life and in the few days following his death, have almost certainly lost their marbles. They've also, I think, lost sight of what matters. Remember when gameplay was more important to video games than artistic integrity and all this other stuff? Remember when we used to play video games for fun, despite the video game's generally bad reputation as a mind-rotting waste of time for losers, without spending so much time worrying about what other people thought of our hobby?
Remember when the success of a game was dependent on more than the advertising budget because developers actually released demos instead of relying entirely on trailers consisting only of pre-rendered scenes and dubstep? Remember when video games were actually hard because the developers knew that overcoming a difficult challenge is more satisfying than watching a movie with some intermittent gameplay sequences and frequent quick time events? Some people don't, because they were too busy making fun of people like me before video games were cool, and because they never actually played a video game before the release of Mass Effect 2 (or whatever super-mainstream, over-hyped, space-marine-themed title convinced them to give video games a try).
Times have changed, and it would seem that a lot of today's so-called "gamers" can't enjoy their video games unless everyone accepts their hobby as something deep and meaningful. They're not happy unless everyone on Earth is aware, and agrees, that video games are works of art that deserve to be treated as works of art. Anyone with a dissenting opinion is dismissed as ignorant.
I've always supported the notion of video games as art, in theory. However, after seeing the absurdly desperate manner in which this position has been defended against the inevitable skepticism, by those who dare to call themselves "gamers" even though they obviously don't like games enough to enjoy them without external validation of their hobby's importance, I'm beginning to wonder if I should distance myself from these people entirely. At the very least, for the sake of clarification, I feel the need to write this addendum to my earlier post about video games as art.
Although I did write, in that earlier post, that I don't see a reason to explicitly exclude the medium from the definition of art, I do recognize that most video games just don't fit the bill. Perhaps only a few of them do. Perhaps none, if your definition of art requires that the art in question be up to the standards set by great writers, painters, composers, and performers in the past. While I've technically taken a position opposite that of Ebert, in arguing that games can be works of art in principle, I don't get offended when someone tells me that my favorite video game isn't a work of art. Even if I disagree, it's hard to care, since I don't play video games for their artistic value; I play them because they're fun. I argued that video games can be art for the sake of argument only, and I'm fully aware that we rarely see a video game that can be artistically valuable (in the same way that a movie is artistically valuable) while simultaneously being a good game.
Many will tell you that video games, as a rule, absolutely are an art form, but that this art form is at such an early stage of development that it has yet to be appreciated. To be honest, I think this is ridiculous; the video game itself is not a form of art, but rather a set of rules. In its most basic form, a video game is similar to a traditional game, like checkers, except that its rules are enforced by a computer instead of the players themselves. If and when a video game is appreciated as a work of art, it's almost always because some form of artistically creative work has been blended with that set of computer-enforced rules that defines what a video game is.
MoMA curators might disagree, as they chose some rather simplistic games like Tetris and Pac-Man for their video game collection, but the reason for their inclusion (as "outstanding examples of interaction design") is not exactly consistent with the typical justifications for treating video games as works of art. It seems to me that most video game enthusiasts would point instead to games with complex stories, visual aesthetics, well composed music, and skilled vocal performance. In the absence of these things, a video game might be an example of great design — and I can certainly appreciate that — but it's not the type of game that anyone cares to discuss when the "video games as art" debate is had. To fit the definition of "art" that people normally use in this context, a game needs to be beautiful, moving, and worthy of critical analysis beyond a simple commentary on its gameplay.
In other words, the idea of the "video game as art" most often refers to a hybrid medium, and the video games most often placed in this category are those which imitate or incorporate other existing art forms. What makes the video game different from those existing art forms is its ability to immerse the player, and to allow the player to become a part of the experience instead of an observer. So while gameplay is important, you do need something other than gameplay if you want to convey any kind of meaning. More importantly, the final result needs to be cohesive. The inclusion of a story alone does not make the game itself a work of art unless the story is truly interactive; when the gameplay is merely broken up by occasional cutscenes, you might as well have made a movie instead. And most story-driven games fail in exactly this way.
For these reasons, I would say that video games can be art, and that such games do exist, but I don't think they're the majority. Most games are just games, to me, and even those who think I'm wrong — even those who would argue that all video games are art by definition — would surely concede that only a few of them are good art. (You can say that film is an art form, but no one says with a straight face that the average action movie is a work of art, so there's no reason to do the same for a medium whose status as an art form is already disputed at a fundamental level.)
I disagree with Ebert in principle, but as I see it, everything he wrote was entirely reasonable. He wasn't telling us that video games are garbage or that they shouldn't be enjoyed; his argument was based mostly on his understanding of how "art" is defined (which, I should mention, is rather subjective). He didn't seem to think highly of video games overall, but he was respectful. Perhaps he was more respectful to his opponents than they were to him; some of them reacted with such anger that one might think video games were their religion and Ebert had insulted their prophet.
Perhaps we should have simply disregarded his opinion, on the grounds that he admitted to having neither any exposure to video games nor any desire to change this, just as one would disregard a video game critic who says "movies are not art" without ever having watched one. But it was still an opinion he was allowed to have. Furthermore, no one should have demanded that he give video games a try, in order to validate his opinion, when he'd already decided that he wasn't interested in doing any such thing. You don't have to spend dozens or hundreds of hours on a hobby to know whether it's worth your time. I've never tried collecting stamps but I'm pretty sure I'd never enjoy it.
And, to put it bluntly, I'm a bit disgusted by how that debate is going. I've always thought that the question of video games as an art form was an interesting thing to discuss, but I've never been on a crusade to prove one point or the other, because I have things to do and because I never really thought it was a crusade-worthy issue. Some people, however, were seriously upset by Ebert's opinion... so upset, in fact, that they never got over it, and went on Twitter after his death to get the last word. To be honest, the problem with this behavior isn't that it's tasteless or childish, which it is. The problem is that they really do care this much. The problem is that they're so insulted by the idea of a video game being less culturally relevant than a famous painting or a piece of music — or even a critically acclaimed film — that they spend more time arguing about it than actually playing the video games they supposedly enjoy. They think it's their duty to defend video games from these accusations of — I don't even know what — being toys, perhaps, which is what they are.
The people who have devoted so much time to debating with Ebert on this issue, both during the last few years of his life and in the few days following his death, have almost certainly lost their marbles. They've also, I think, lost sight of what matters. Remember when gameplay was more important to video games than artistic integrity and all this other stuff? Remember when we used to play video games for fun, despite the video game's generally bad reputation as a mind-rotting waste of time for losers, without spending so much time worrying about what other people thought of our hobby?
Remember when the success of a game was dependent on more than the advertising budget because developers actually released demos instead of relying entirely on trailers consisting only of pre-rendered scenes and dubstep? Remember when video games were actually hard because the developers knew that overcoming a difficult challenge is more satisfying than watching a movie with some intermittent gameplay sequences and frequent quick time events? Some people don't, because they were too busy making fun of people like me before video games were cool, and because they never actually played a video game before the release of Mass Effect 2 (or whatever super-mainstream, over-hyped, space-marine-themed title convinced them to give video games a try).
Times have changed, and it would seem that a lot of today's so-called "gamers" can't enjoy their video games unless everyone accepts their hobby as something deep and meaningful. They're not happy unless everyone on Earth is aware, and agrees, that video games are works of art that deserve to be treated as works of art. Anyone with a dissenting opinion is dismissed as ignorant.
I've always supported the notion of video games as art, in theory. However, after seeing the absurdly desperate manner in which this position has been defended against the inevitable skepticism, by those who dare to call themselves "gamers" even though they obviously don't like games enough to enjoy them without external validation of their hobby's importance, I'm beginning to wonder if I should distance myself from these people entirely. At the very least, for the sake of clarification, I feel the need to write this addendum to my earlier post about video games as art.
Although I did write, in that earlier post, that I don't see a reason to explicitly exclude the medium from the definition of art, I do recognize that most video games just don't fit the bill. Perhaps only a few of them do. Perhaps none, if your definition of art requires that the art in question be up to the standards set by great writers, painters, composers, and performers in the past. While I've technically taken a position opposite that of Ebert, in arguing that games can be works of art in principle, I don't get offended when someone tells me that my favorite video game isn't a work of art. Even if I disagree, it's hard to care, since I don't play video games for their artistic value; I play them because they're fun. I argued that video games can be art for the sake of argument only, and I'm fully aware that we rarely see a video game that can be artistically valuable (in the same way that a movie is artistically valuable) while simultaneously being a good game.
Many will tell you that video games, as a rule, absolutely are an art form, but that this art form is at such an early stage of development that it has yet to be appreciated. To be honest, I think this is ridiculous; the video game itself is not a form of art, but rather a set of rules. In its most basic form, a video game is similar to a traditional game, like checkers, except that its rules are enforced by a computer instead of the players themselves. If and when a video game is appreciated as a work of art, it's almost always because some form of artistically creative work has been blended with that set of computer-enforced rules that defines what a video game is.
MoMA curators might disagree, as they chose some rather simplistic games like Tetris and Pac-Man for their video game collection, but the reason for their inclusion (as "outstanding examples of interaction design") is not exactly consistent with the typical justifications for treating video games as works of art. It seems to me that most video game enthusiasts would point instead to games with complex stories, visual aesthetics, well composed music, and skilled vocal performance. In the absence of these things, a video game might be an example of great design — and I can certainly appreciate that — but it's not the type of game that anyone cares to discuss when the "video games as art" debate is had. To fit the definition of "art" that people normally use in this context, a game needs to be beautiful, moving, and worthy of critical analysis beyond a simple commentary on its gameplay.
In other words, the idea of the "video game as art" most often refers to a hybrid medium, and the video games most often placed in this category are those which imitate or incorporate other existing art forms. What makes the video game different from those existing art forms is its ability to immerse the player, and to allow the player to become a part of the experience instead of an observer. So while gameplay is important, you do need something other than gameplay if you want to convey any kind of meaning. More importantly, the final result needs to be cohesive. The inclusion of a story alone does not make the game itself a work of art unless the story is truly interactive; when the gameplay is merely broken up by occasional cutscenes, you might as well have made a movie instead. And most story-driven games fail in exactly this way.
For these reasons, I would say that video games can be art, and that such games do exist, but I don't think they're the majority. Most games are just games, to me, and even those who think I'm wrong — even those who would argue that all video games are art by definition — would surely concede that only a few of them are good art. (You can say that film is an art form, but no one says with a straight face that the average action movie is a work of art, so there's no reason to do the same for a medium whose status as an art form is already disputed at a fundamental level.)
I disagree with Ebert in principle, but as I see it, everything he wrote was entirely reasonable. He wasn't telling us that video games are garbage or that they shouldn't be enjoyed; his argument was based mostly on his understanding of how "art" is defined (which, I should mention, is rather subjective). He didn't seem to think highly of video games overall, but he was respectful. Perhaps he was more respectful to his opponents than they were to him; some of them reacted with such anger that one might think video games were their religion and Ebert had insulted their prophet.
Perhaps we should have simply disregarded his opinion, on the grounds that he admitted to having neither any exposure to video games nor any desire to change this, just as one would disregard a video game critic who says "movies are not art" without ever having watched one. But it was still an opinion he was allowed to have. Furthermore, no one should have demanded that he give video games a try, in order to validate his opinion, when he'd already decided that he wasn't interested in doing any such thing. You don't have to spend dozens or hundreds of hours on a hobby to know whether it's worth your time. I've never tried collecting stamps but I'm pretty sure I'd never enjoy it.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Humble Not Bundle
When I wrote about the most recent Humble Bundle sale two weeks ago, I made a rather pessimistic prediction about future bundles and the amount of content that would be available for below-the-average contributors. While I wasn't being completely serious, I was waiting patiently to see whether the next bundle would return to the old standard of just a single locked beat-the-average game, or whether it would remain at two, or even increase to three. Of course, I was expecting the next Humble Bundle sale to be an actual bundle.
Suddenly, as of yesterday, Humble Bundle is doing a weekly thing, and this week's iteration includes only a single game. I very much doubt this is the end of the bundles we all know and love, unless they're planning on changing their name and web address, so try not to panic. Just think of it this way: Those awkward pauses in between bundles — during which the Humble Bundle site became a little more than a shrine to a sale no longer being offered — are no more. They're claiming a different game will be offered every week, starting now with Bastion, so as long as they can keep finding new games without resorting to repeats too often, the fun will never end.
Honestly, though, skepticism is in my nature and I'm not sure what I think of this. It's a neat idea, and I've already made it known that I regretted missing Bastion in Humble Indie Bundle V, but I'm not exactly pooping my pants with excitement over the whole concept. If I give in to temptation and buy Bastion tomorrow, it doesn't mean I'll be picking up indie games from Humble Bundle on a weekly basis (and with a full time job, I doubt I can even play through them at such a pace.)
As always, you can still name your own price. A penny gets you the game, a dollar gets you a Steam copy, and paying above the average gets you the soundtrack, as well as some other goodies we haven't seen before: some art, some sheet music, and some ringtones. And here's where things get interesting: A purchase of $25 or more gets you some actual (physical) merchandise: a bandana, the soundtrack on a CD, and a couple of postcards.
The highest-tier purchase, obviously, is for those who truly want to support the developers, so the monetary value of that merchandise is pretty much irrelevant. Customers who aim to buy goods, not to donate money, will at best exceed the average contribution by one cent in order to get the soundtrack and the artwork. People who just want the game are unlikely to pay more than the bare minimum unless their guilty consciences push them to open their wallets a little wider. In the best case scenario, these frugal contributors value Steam keys enough that their definition of "bare minimum" is raised from one cent to one dollar.
That is, by the way, a big improvement. And while I don't advocate paying the absolute bare minimum of a penny, I do think that paying a dollar is fine. The people running the Humble Bundle seem to think so too, since they've decided to dangle that first carrot — those Steam keys and (in some cases) soundtracks — at the one-dollar mark.
For these one-dollar contributors, the new weekly sales have no added perks, and are likely to seem underwhelming in comparison to the less frequent, full-fledged Humble Bundle events. A video game for a dollar is a great deal, but it's considerably less than what people were getting for a dollar two weeks ago. In the good old bundles like the one that ended earlier this month, a dollar can get you several games, plus their soundtracks, plus Steam keys, plus any extra games added to the bundle after your purchase. (All you miss by paying below the average, in a typical bundle, is an additional game or two, as well as any late additions if you're a slowpoke who didn't pay early enough to get them automatically.)
On the other hand, I could be completely wrong about all of this, and these weekly sales could end up being even more successful than the bundles because there's always something on sale. Some might even prefer buying their games one-at-a-time instead of grabbing entire bundles of games and only playing one of them. It's really too early to say how this will turn out in the long run, but I'll be keeping an eye on it.
Humble Bundle is already taking a break from its weekly sales, so I guess it was an incorrect to say that those awkward pauses in between events are no more. Still, I trust the weekly sales will come more often than the full-sized bundles. (Otherwise, what's the point?)
Suddenly, as of yesterday, Humble Bundle is doing a weekly thing, and this week's iteration includes only a single game. I very much doubt this is the end of the bundles we all know and love, unless they're planning on changing their name and web address, so try not to panic. Just think of it this way: Those awkward pauses in between bundles — during which the Humble Bundle site became a little more than a shrine to a sale no longer being offered — are no more. They're claiming a different game will be offered every week, starting now with Bastion, so as long as they can keep finding new games without resorting to repeats too often, the fun will never end.
Honestly, though, skepticism is in my nature and I'm not sure what I think of this. It's a neat idea, and I've already made it known that I regretted missing Bastion in Humble Indie Bundle V, but I'm not exactly pooping my pants with excitement over the whole concept. If I give in to temptation and buy Bastion tomorrow, it doesn't mean I'll be picking up indie games from Humble Bundle on a weekly basis (and with a full time job, I doubt I can even play through them at such a pace.)
As always, you can still name your own price. A penny gets you the game, a dollar gets you a Steam copy, and paying above the average gets you the soundtrack, as well as some other goodies we haven't seen before: some art, some sheet music, and some ringtones. And here's where things get interesting: A purchase of $25 or more gets you some actual (physical) merchandise: a bandana, the soundtrack on a CD, and a couple of postcards.
The highest-tier purchase, obviously, is for those who truly want to support the developers, so the monetary value of that merchandise is pretty much irrelevant. Customers who aim to buy goods, not to donate money, will at best exceed the average contribution by one cent in order to get the soundtrack and the artwork. People who just want the game are unlikely to pay more than the bare minimum unless their guilty consciences push them to open their wallets a little wider. In the best case scenario, these frugal contributors value Steam keys enough that their definition of "bare minimum" is raised from one cent to one dollar.
That is, by the way, a big improvement. And while I don't advocate paying the absolute bare minimum of a penny, I do think that paying a dollar is fine. The people running the Humble Bundle seem to think so too, since they've decided to dangle that first carrot — those Steam keys and (in some cases) soundtracks — at the one-dollar mark.
For these one-dollar contributors, the new weekly sales have no added perks, and are likely to seem underwhelming in comparison to the less frequent, full-fledged Humble Bundle events. A video game for a dollar is a great deal, but it's considerably less than what people were getting for a dollar two weeks ago. In the good old bundles like the one that ended earlier this month, a dollar can get you several games, plus their soundtracks, plus Steam keys, plus any extra games added to the bundle after your purchase. (All you miss by paying below the average, in a typical bundle, is an additional game or two, as well as any late additions if you're a slowpoke who didn't pay early enough to get them automatically.)
On the other hand, I could be completely wrong about all of this, and these weekly sales could end up being even more successful than the bundles because there's always something on sale. Some might even prefer buying their games one-at-a-time instead of grabbing entire bundles of games and only playing one of them. It's really too early to say how this will turn out in the long run, but I'll be keeping an eye on it.
Update (April 16, 2013):
Humble Bundle is already taking a break from its weekly sales, so I guess it was an incorrect to say that those awkward pauses in between events are no more. Still, I trust the weekly sales will come more often than the full-sized bundles. (Otherwise, what's the point?)
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Humble Bundle's Problematic Pricing
Another Humble Bundle has arrived. More specifically, it's the fifth Android bundle, which means all of the games will work on a variety little "devices" that should never be used for "gaming" as well as the usual PC operating systems (Windows, Mac, and Linux).
Usually, I have nothing but nice things to say about the Humble Bundle. It's hard not to like a site that lets you buy packs of indie games for as little as $0.01, even if those games are mediocre in comparison to their $60 big-budget counterparts. (If a penny is too much to spend, you could even commit a heinous act of copyright infringement with relative ease, because the games are DRM-free and everyone who buys the bundle gets the same links to the same torrents. Those torrents, if shared, work just as well for people who never made a purchase at all.)
There is, however, something I don't understand. Maybe I'm just nitpicking, but this doesn't make a lot of sense:
Super Hexagon and Dungeon Defenders are only included if your payment is higher than the average, but the "default split" (which gives 65% to developers, 20% to charity, and 15% to Humble Bundle, Inc.) doesn't take this into account. The developers' share of the contribution is, by default, split evenly among all the developers regardless of how many games are included in your purchase.
It's fair to evenly split the money among all six developers if all six games are being purchased, but why should these two developers be getting money from people who aren't being given access to their games? There's less money to go around, for each below-the-average purchase, so it should be divided among the developers who actually contributed something to that below-the-average bundle.
Sure, you can adjust those sliders to divide your money however you like, but I think most people don't even do this. In fact, I'd be surprised if most people even noticed that you can expand the "developers" section, which appears like this by default:
Or maybe I don't have enough faith in the average indie-game-buying internet surfer. Either way, I don't know why Humble Bundle would presume that I want a developer to receive roughly 11% of my contribution even if Humble Bundle has decided that I haven't contributed enough to receive that developer's game. And yet I can only assume that it was deliberately set up this way.
You could argue that it doesn't matter because these aren't typical purchases — they're essentially donations, and maybe the idea is that a portion of each donation should be split equally among all of the developers who made this Humble Bundle possible, and that the particular incentive for making a donation is irrelevant. But then I have to wonder about the developers whose games are added mid-way through the sale as an added bonus. Those games are added automatically to the beat-the-average list, but they're also given at no extra charge to anyone who had already purchased the bundle beforehand. So if I buy the bundle now, and more games are added next week, those developers get none of my money.
I suppose I could just make another donation if I had a serious problem with that.
In other news, I'm slightly disappointed that Dungeon Defenders has appeared as a beat-the-average game on two Humble Bundle sales in the past three months, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. I'd even wager that fewer repeat customers might be willing to pay above the average, if the reward is a game they already have, but I guess they've covered their bases by starting with two beat-the-average rewards instead of one. This seems to be the new norm, in fact, and it probably won't be long before all but one or two games per bundle is accompanied by that little padlock symbol.
Usually, I have nothing but nice things to say about the Humble Bundle. It's hard not to like a site that lets you buy packs of indie games for as little as $0.01, even if those games are mediocre in comparison to their $60 big-budget counterparts. (If a penny is too much to spend, you could even commit a heinous act of copyright infringement with relative ease, because the games are DRM-free and everyone who buys the bundle gets the same links to the same torrents. Those torrents, if shared, work just as well for people who never made a purchase at all.)
There is, however, something I don't understand. Maybe I'm just nitpicking, but this doesn't make a lot of sense:
Super Hexagon and Dungeon Defenders are only included if your payment is higher than the average, but the "default split" (which gives 65% to developers, 20% to charity, and 15% to Humble Bundle, Inc.) doesn't take this into account. The developers' share of the contribution is, by default, split evenly among all the developers regardless of how many games are included in your purchase.
It's fair to evenly split the money among all six developers if all six games are being purchased, but why should these two developers be getting money from people who aren't being given access to their games? There's less money to go around, for each below-the-average purchase, so it should be divided among the developers who actually contributed something to that below-the-average bundle.
Sure, you can adjust those sliders to divide your money however you like, but I think most people don't even do this. In fact, I'd be surprised if most people even noticed that you can expand the "developers" section, which appears like this by default:
Or maybe I don't have enough faith in the average indie-game-buying internet surfer. Either way, I don't know why Humble Bundle would presume that I want a developer to receive roughly 11% of my contribution even if Humble Bundle has decided that I haven't contributed enough to receive that developer's game. And yet I can only assume that it was deliberately set up this way.
You could argue that it doesn't matter because these aren't typical purchases — they're essentially donations, and maybe the idea is that a portion of each donation should be split equally among all of the developers who made this Humble Bundle possible, and that the particular incentive for making a donation is irrelevant. But then I have to wonder about the developers whose games are added mid-way through the sale as an added bonus. Those games are added automatically to the beat-the-average list, but they're also given at no extra charge to anyone who had already purchased the bundle beforehand. So if I buy the bundle now, and more games are added next week, those developers get none of my money.
I suppose I could just make another donation if I had a serious problem with that.
In other news, I'm slightly disappointed that Dungeon Defenders has appeared as a beat-the-average game on two Humble Bundle sales in the past three months, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. I'd even wager that fewer repeat customers might be willing to pay above the average, if the reward is a game they already have, but I guess they've covered their bases by starting with two beat-the-average rewards instead of one. This seems to be the new norm, in fact, and it probably won't be long before all but one or two games per bundle is accompanied by that little padlock symbol.
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