Keeping with the tradition of highly frequent blog updates, here’s another highly frequent blog update! I’m heading to San Francisco tomorrow for the illustrious Game Developers Conference, a show that brings together loads of game-industry folks and those who would someday very much like to be game-industry folks for a few days of panels, lectures, workshops, drinking and drinking. It’s going to be great to catch up with some of the journalistic types I haven’t seen in a long time.

This year’s a bit different than in the past: I’m not actually being paid to go there! Instead, I’m heading down solely to fulfill my own selfish desires: yell at people in the halls to tell them how awesome Empire Avenue is; throw some free-game codes for GOG.com around like they’re going out of style (which they’re not); go hang out at the Paradox suite to mooch whatever freebies I can; and to try and drum up some more business for Evolve PR. That last one’s kind of an interesting one.

I have to admit that I’ve been ridiculously (perhaps even ridonkulously) busy lately. The prospect of bringing on even more business kind of makes me cry. But I do have a big, evil, master plan: I’m also going to spend my time trying to find someone to help out. That’s right — Evolve is expanding. I’ve got a few folks in mind, but really, if you happen to read this, are a highly experienced PR/marketing rep in the games industry, and will be in San Francisco this week, shoot me an email or tackle me on the street. Alternatively, if you’re a PR Director, VP of Marketing or whatever else, be sure to wear your best shoulder pads, because there’s a good chance I’ll knock you over and throw a business card in your face. It may not be the most effective bizdev tactic, but I’m not about to actually… you know… set up meetings, print out all sorts of fancy brochures, perfect a sales pitch and try to woo you with my eloquence. That shit’s so 1996.

I hope to actually do some blog updates from SF, as I should have plenty of time on my hands…. again, my highly effective business-development practices don’t take a lot of time… but if I don’t, try not to miss me too much.

For years, big-name PR agencies — and sadly, most game publishers, movie studios, record labels, plywood manufacturers, etc. — have focused most or all of their publicity and marketing efforts on scoring the big kahuna: coverage, big or small, in top-tier media. A small column on the fifth page of USA Today‘s Money section was — and still is, to some extent — a glorious achievement, to be pursued at any expense.

Quick digression: the Internet’s been around for a while. I remember having a Geocities site back in 1997 or something. Since the birth of the hideous Dancing Baby there have been countless sites run by enthusiasts — for free, simply maintained out of love for the subject matter. You could say these guys were the low-fi ancestors of today’s blogging elite. There were chat rooms, message boards (BBS anyone?), and generally a ton of places where consumers gathered to learn about products, talk about them and share their love for them.

Is that really any different than the current situation?

Even today, a lot of — if not most — PR departments spend all of their time chasing rainbows with those top-tier outlets, sacrificing a huge potential audience. We’ve long been taught that, while quantity of coverage is important, the quality of that coverage is of the utmost importance. So let’s think about this for a second: if you’re a major player in your industry or have a truly exceptional new product, then it’s quite possible for you to get great placement and positive editorial tone — high-quality coverage. If you’re repping a company that doesn’t have those things — that could still be an excellent company with a tremendous product, but one which may not be interesting to the mainstream audience — you’re going to be in for a tough climb to get to the peak of media notability. I’m currently focusing a lot of my time on GOG.com, which is in just that sort of situation: it offers an amazing product — a slick website, a great offering of games for a particular audience, and a fairly revolutionary outlook on digital distribution (DRM-free and all that jazz). However, can we really compete for media coverage with companies like Activision, with their billion-dollar-and-then-some revenue?

So what do you do? Well, back in the day we’d focus heavily on enthusiast media, and that’s definitely still the case today. You’ll always have better luck with journalists who are active in the industry in which you’re operating. But even back when I first got into the PR game with BioWare — at a time when the company was still working hard to make a name for itself — in 2000 or so, I realized that we could work with the websites and other outlets that didn’t necessarily get a million hits a month — the ones that were usually overlooked by bigger companies and agencies — to not only secure a significant amount of coverage, but also to ensure that coverage was incredibly positive.

You see, people who aren’t used to being treated as “special” — and no, I’m not talking about that kind of special — appreciate the effort that much more. I’ve long believed that, through personal attention and caring about everyone’s needs and desires, you can effectively create a massive network of evangelists to help spread the word about your products. This general concept birthed “viral marketing,” which became a big bullet point on big agencies’ service offerings a few years ago when YouTube rose to prominence and when ilovebees put Halo on the map.

Even then, a lot of marketers didn’t catch on. They pushed out some half-assed attempts at engaging fans on a more individual level. And they still spent most of their time chasing the holy grails of coverage — magazine covers and whatnot. Don’t get me wrong — that coverage is still important. But should you sacrifice close interaction with your most vocal supporters — the people who pay for your products, love them and are loyal to your company?

With the recent rise of Twitter and Facebook and other forms of social media, once again companies are hopping on the “individual people are awesome” bandwagon. They still don’t “get it,” though, and spend most of their time simply pushing info to consumers without realizing that it’s a two-way road. Check out this short post by Derek Sivers about companies’ inability to use social media effectively, equating a bad date with many companies’ social media policies. Get with the program, folks — people (as opposed to media) have always been the primary influencers. When Jimmy started his Geocities site in 1997, the 20 people who visited his site were still there to hear what he had to say. When I hopped on an IRC network in 1998 to talk about Diablo II, I was still talking to people who were passionate about the product and gaming in general. Social media has simply offered a handful of convenient and well-publicized places for individuals to convene in order to discuss their lives, their passions and their favorite products and companies.

“Public relations” isn’t “media relations,” folks. The definition of PR seems to have moved away from its literal meaning — relating to and interacting with the public. If I focus my attention on individuals — or any number of “second-tier” websites and blogs (or third-tier or fourth-tier or even the guy who only gets 3 hits a year) — I can reach a massive audience. Those individuals appreciate even a moment of your time — particularly if you’re working for a company they adore — and will become extensions of your PR efforts (not necessarily your media efforts, of course), telling their friends, Twitter followers, and everyone else about your company and its products. They want to help you succeed. Let them do that. It just takes a bit of your time.

I’m going to try to put together a series of brief posts about PR practices, and thanks to my current diet of cold medication and coffee the best name I could come up with is PR Shorts. I know that sounds like a pair of cut-off jeans that will never give you a straight answer, but maybe you guys can suggest something better… or I’ll wait until the medicine wears off.

Today’s PR Short is about press releases. There’s definitely an accepted standard for the format of a release, so let’s talk about that quickly. In most cases your press release should look something like this:

Title
Subtitle

Intro paragraph

Detail paragraph(s)

Quote(s)

Boilerplate

The Title should grab the journalist’s attention. Usually you’ll want this to quickly explain the main point of the release, but in some cases you may want to just put a potential story headline in there. Let’s say you’re pushing a new emergency-diaper technology that cleans the baby’s butt if it drops a deuce (again with the underpants theme… curse you, medicine). Your title could be, “Hankypants Introduces New Diaper Technology to Avoid Poopy Accidents” (the straight-forward one) or, “Never Clean Baby Poo Again” (the less direct option). I probably could have avoided a poop joke there.

The Subtitle is optional, but I’d recommend making use of it. It allows you to briefly offer more info about the announcement. If you were to use the Never Clean Baby Poo Again header, for example, your subtitle could be something like, “Hankypants Introduces New Diaper Technology that Cleans Infants’ Bottoms.” A lot of journalists will really only read your title and subtitle; if they’re not interested at that point, they’ll likely just move on, so you may as well give them as much info as possible in those lines.

The Intro Paragraph gets to the point. It will usually begin with “Edmonton, AB, Canada – September 9, 2009.” — the location and the date of your announcement. Then you’ll want to explain what the announcement is about — “Hankypants, the leading creator of leading-edge diaper technology, is excited to announce its latest model, the PooFree 3000.” You can provide a bit more info, including availability, pricing, etc.

The Detail Paragraph(s) will just include some more info. In some cases you may not even want to provide more info — your intro may have already provided enough detail, but I’d recommend using this space if you can. It allows you to talk more about the product itself, your company, unique features of the product, etc. Don’t get overly verbose with this or any other paragraph, though — the more you write, the more time the journalist has to just stop reading.

The Quote is also optional, but it allows you to show off your executive team to the world and to push your corporate messaging a bit. Particularly if you’re announcing a partnership of some sort, quotes might allow you to include an external perspective on your company. Having someone else (preferrably someone reputable) in your release saying, “We’ve evaluated the PooFree 3000, and the product is, without a doubt, the pinnacle of diaper technology” will add some legitimacy to your announcement, and makes it a bit less about patting yourself on the back.

Your Boilerplate is just a description of your company. Talk about past products, your strengths, corporate ideals, etc. And be sure to include a URL for more info.

Pretty simple, right? If you have any questions about writing effective press releases, feel free to comment or email me!

Just like any other day for a gaming journalist on staff at a major publication, I’d imagine. Situations like this make me appreciate reviewers so much more (oh, I loved you lots before… good save?) — it makes me happy that as a consumer, I get to choose which games I play — as I’m sure they have to slog through four or five over-hyped blockbusters for one great game to cross their desks. I can get caught up in hype just like anyone else, though, and reviewers — those with integrity, at least — help me decide which games are worth spending money on.

“Shortly after the review was published, I got called into my editor’s office. Turns out the PR rep hadn’t even bothered to call me to find out what was up with the score we gave her game. She went directly to the head of the publication, insisting that I clearly didn’t play the game (I did, rather more than I’d have liked to), like the genre (actually it’s one of my favorites), had something against the platform (what?), and more.”

The previously quoted journalist isn’t alone, of course, as there have been high-profile cases of situations similar to this one — the famous Gerstmanngate saga saw Eidos seemingly force out a prominent journalist at GameSpot over a ho-hum review of a generally-perceived-as-ho-hum game, Sony made a boo-boo by blacklisting Kotaku because it posted about Home before its official announcement without Sony’s approval, and while unproven (the game looks excellent) Eidos has found itself in hot water again with allegations of trading an exclusive review for a high review score. All of those cases, of course, ended up with bad PR for the company doing the strong-arming, but whatever, let’s hope they’ve learned from their mistakes. One of the primary jobs of a PR rep is to ensure that his or her client is portrayed in the media frequently and in a positive light. It’s natural for us to want to have some impact on the tone of coverage, but where does the influence stop?

Don’t get me wrong: we have to assert influence in the hopes of garnering positive coverage. That’s PR’s job. An anonymous account manager at a gaming PR agency explains it as such: “As an agency games publicist, it’s my responsibility to identify and communicate those elements of my client’s product that are going to get people excited… Big budget blockbuster games, however, are a different animal. When piles of advertising and marketing dollars are involved, the line tends to blur.” This certainly seemed to be the case in the Gerstmann-Eidos confrontation — Eidos was spending money at GameSpot, didn’t like a review and threatened to pull ads if the review wasn’t dealt with. In that situation, Eidos ultimately… uhh… won? with Gerstmann’s firing from the popular site (again, never mind the bad PR). It’s obviously a frightening suppression of editorial freedom when the ad money dictates coverage, tone and someone’s career path.

What about the situations like those of our journalist? Or selling review scores for exclusivity? Situations in which PR feels that they can dictate the tone of coverage or barter for a glowing review are just as scary. One would assume that journalists — whether editor-in-chief or intern — would have the integrity to deny such advances, but certainly when there’s a big-budget game or a megapublisher involved, the journalist has to consider the future — what if I don’t buy into this? Could this publisher get pissed off and refuse to work with me in the future? Are they going to pull ad money so I’ll get fired by some suit whom I’ve met once and who has no regular input into editorial coverage? As we all know, it doesn’t always work out well for the publisher — a lot of reporters and outlets aren’t willing to play ball, and the ensuing exposure will likely make the company regret its actions. But let me ask this — would publishers still be engaging in these strong-arm tactics if they didn’t work? Is there a time and a place to sit down at your desk, call up a journalist (or his editor) and yell for a few minutes?

Sean Ridgeley, Content Editor at Neoseeker.com, notes that, “the writer maintaining his voice is absolutely integral to journalism, particularly with it being such a competitive field. But there are occasions where we can be out of line, and it is here the rep should step in — if a superior has not, is unaware, or feels differently — and kindly work with the writer to achieve a more constructive tone and write-up, as flagrancy really doesn’t get anyone anywhere.” Of course there are a lot of different ways to go about achieving that more constructive tone, and the extent of the PR rep’s reaction is likely aligned with his passion for the project — or his boss’s passion for kicking his ass for a negative review. I’ve read a lot of mediocre reviews of projects I was working on and thought, “man, this writer is clearly didn’t play the game, doesn’t like the genre or has something against the platform! How dare she give it a 7! Everyone else is giving it 9s!” Do I just pick up the phone and go berserk on the journalist, though? Do I call her editor? Nah. But I will pick through that review and let her know about specific things she got wrong, lines that make it clear she has no idea what a strategy game is and question whether someone who previously claimed a dislike of PC games should really be reviewing the game.

I’ve had reviews removed from sites for factual errors, and I’ve had outlets print retractions or adjustments because a reviewer hadn’t spent adequate time with a game to learn all of its features. After all, as PR reps we have to ensure that journalists give our games a fair shake. Our PR rep says, “I worked on a PC title called Desperate Housewives: The Game, which at its heart was a really well-designed, Sims-like game with engaging story-driven gameplay. We were targeting a more mature female demographic, highlighting features such as story, casual gameplay elements, and ease of play. Without someone to champion the development team’s gameplay and feature set decisions, would a game like Desperate Housewives stand a chance of getting a fair review among those who typically write reviews for young men? Would it have even gotten reviewed at all?”

That’s where PR’s real role lies, as Ridgeley explains: “My ideal PR rep is one who acts purely as a mediator between publisher, developer and the journalist; their job should not be to “manage review scores,” but to assist in seeing the most informed content possible published, regardless of whether or not the journalist agrees with everything they’ve been provided with. This is not a negative thing; it’s best to include as many views as possible in any piece of journalism, I believe, so as to include as many possible readers in the discussion, directly or indirectly. And like the rep, this is the role of the journalist, likewise: to strive for the most informed and honest work he can.”

Our journalist could have had to write some sort of retraction in the next issue. He could have been fired. Thankfully, he works for people with integrity. “To my editor’s credit, he laid out what he’d been told, listened to my refutation of the bullshit and my points in support of my negative review, and said he’d take care of it. As pissed off as I was at the PR rep – being told that you are a lazy liar who sucks at your job is never terribly pleasant – I felt vindicated by my editor’s response.” It doesn’t always work out in the PR rep’s favor, even if the complaining doesn’t make front-page news.

I’ve also been urged strongly to bitch at some journalist or another for a review I couldn’t really disagree with. In those situations, I’m the one who has to show integrity — I can argue to my client or boss (I’ve had both yell at me about reviews) about the facts, explaining how they’re being just a bit too blinded by their investment in the game to realize that some people do have opinions that differ from their own.

For all of this to work, the respect has to flow both ways. Publishers and PR reps should never try to put unjust pressure on journalists. Meanwhile, journalists should strive to be fair in their coverage of games. However, in the end, we have to go back to the way the hype machine works in this industry — publishers control the games and the assets, and as long as outlets rely on access to those assets, coverage will be bartered and will ultimately favor those with the most with which to barter.

Urban Dictionary lists the following:
bullshot: n. A screenshot fabricated by a company to misrepresent the graphics of a game; a combination of the words bullshit and screenshot.

Seems Penny Arcade coined the phrase (shit, seriously, 2005? Seems like just yesterday), but the actual practice of “creating” screenshots has been around for ages; it’s become more prevalent in recent years, as the visual quality of games has increased alongside consumer expectations. If you want to see some examples and some more insight into bullshots, you can check out Blake Snow’s piece at GamePro.com. Forget that clown, though (*blowing a kiss to Blake*) — I’m the star here! Let’s take a quick look at bullshots, shall we? More after the jump.

What happens?
Throughout a game’s PR and marketing campaign, the publisher or developer needs to create promotional screenshots to show off a game’s visuals. It’s important to note that the final polishing of a game — those extra steps that take the game to final quality — often isn’t done until the last few months of the project. That will vary, of course, from one game to another, as some teams may aim to be “art complete” much earlier in development. Anyway, these shots will usually be created with whatever game content is available — so if a game is being announced two years before its release date, there’s a good chance that the aforementioned game content is not final, only partially available or completely non-existent.

Trust me, from the PR and marketing rep standpoint — unless you’re a soulless bastard — this whole process is a bit unnerving. It makes me feel more than a little slimy… like I just ate twelve Big Macs and pigged out on Doritos while playing Fallout 3 for ten hours straight (not necessarily professing my love for any of those three things… they’re just examples of the greasiness, people). I much prefer the idea of actually capturing images from a final product and presenting them as-is. I remember working on Neverwinter Nights, creating my own levels in the toolset and snapping off hundreds (thousands?) of screenshots throughout the promo campaign. We’d pick the best ones, they’d get routed through approvals, and everything was great — we’d just toss out the shots with screwy shadows, weird textures, characters stuck in the walls, etc.

Things just aren’t that easy anymore. Advancing technology dictates that games take more manpower to develop and that dev teams usually have to work with tighter timelines. You’re constantly tweaking artwork, textures, lighting, etc. so taking a perfect screenshot a year before release is pretty much a pipe dream. So again, you take what you can get — maybe you only have a few characters finished, while the levels aren’t close to finished yet. Maybe you’re lucky enough to have a good vertical-slice demo (essentially a small “slice” of the game representing its final game quality). In that very awesome case, you have at least a small area — with just a couple of characters/enemies and a few rooms in the level — to work with, merrily snapping screenshots and having to make minimal adjustments. But in other cases, you do the best you can. If lighting isn’t final, an artist has to go in and paint the lighting and shadows. If visual effects like explosions aren’t implemented yet, you have an artist add the explosions.

Why does it happen?
It seems like the most nefarious consumer-deception tactic around: Megapublisher A comes out and announces Big Shooter X from Big Studio Y, says it will be the best-looking game around in 18 months and releases “screenshots” to back it up… but they won’t show off a gameplay video for another six months. They won’t demo the game to press for another year. The screenshots are a vision of what they hope to deliver, and are meant to excite the masses.

Thus we come to the reason for bullshots’ existence: customer, shareholder and retailer) expectations. The very nature of video game PR and marketing is somewhat fucked. There are few other industries that push product visibility for such a long period of time; there’s really very little chance that a game announced two years before release will be unveiled with assets that weren’t somehow custom-produced for that particular opportunity. That being said, fans expect screenshots to be awesome… and I’m not trying to point fingers and call gamers jerks, because I do it, too. If I see a screenshot, I expect it to look cool, or else I’ll probably lose interest in that game. So let’s say a publisher takes the honest route and releases a screenshot of an in-development game without doctoring it. Imagine the outcry. NeoGAF would explode with cries of, “hahah, what a piece of shit!” Other hardcore fans would laugh at the lack of anti-aliasing. Yet others would ridicule the terrible facial expressions. Or the missing texture on the floor. You get the picture.

Companies want to create hype for their products, and unless they come out of the gate with awesome assets, they’re going to be fighting a long, uphill battle to achieve popularity or to get enough page views at GameSpot (or wherever) to warrant continued coverage. Ultimately, fans don’t seem to care if shots have been doctored. There may be some outcry early on in the publicity campaign (Killzone 2, anyone?), but in the end, all will be forgotten and a game will be left to cement its own legacy.

Anything we can do about it?
Yeah, not sure. I’d love to get to the point where we’re not announcing games too far in advance. Case in point: I was part of the effort to announce Dragon Age at E3 back in 2004. Sure, there was a big media blackout for a while, but that game has been in the public eye for five years already, and fans have expected a constant flow of assets — screenshots, videos, previews, etc. How could BioWare’s product five years ago possibly have represented the final quality of the game? Apart from a few rare cases, do you know of any movies that have been talked about for five years? How about two years? A year? We’re somewhat idiotic in this industry, though, having established long ago that we absolutely can’t have successful products without building up months or years of hype.

Could we get by with the Hollywood model? Could we feasibly just give fans minor details — talk about the people involved in the project, share the overall vision, toss out some concept art — and save the major hype for the two or three months before release? Could we skip the crazy spending in the year leading up to release, removing presence at trade shows, cutting out the trailer budget during that time, and saving it all for a big publicity and ad push at release? I think so, but it’s going to take one ambitious and daring genius to change the way the entire gaming publicity machine has worked for the past twenty years. Think about it: we’d be able to say goodbye to release delays; while you’d obviously need to provide a general timeframe for shareholders, it’d be much easier to say, “here’s the first trailer, and the game is coming out in three months!” than predicting a specific release date in advance. All assets would be final — sure, you might get ten trailers in that month, but as a fan you’d have a guarantee that all videos and screenshots are representative of the final game. For publishers, you could condense all of that spending into one huge push — how much TV time could you buy for the cost of an E3 booth?

It seems like it would work out well for everyone. But are things going to change anytime soon? Probably not. So deal with it, and enjoy all the bullshots you’ll be fed this year! They’re sure to be tasty.

Thoughts? Got a major beef with bullshots? Don’t care either way?

Get outta here, you greasy game journalist!

Frustration is a natural byproduct of a modern life — for a lot of us human existence in the 21st century is just an endless, stressful race to the top, and we’re bound to slip over the edge into complete batshit insanity once in a while. With so much going on, we’d go nuts even if we didn’t interact with the other lovely humans inhabiting the planet, but when someone else’s negligence, failure or general idiocy is the cause of your batshit insanity… well… things tend to get a bit heated. One of the first lessons we learn in business, though, is to not let one’s emotions take control; frustrated as you may be, you should be taking time to think about the long-term implications of any outburst. “Will this come back to bite me in the ass?” should be the first question out of your mouth… and if you’re asking yourself that question, you should probably sit on the email, phone call or bar-of-soap-in-a-tube-sock beatings.

So allow me to digress for a moment. Video game PR is a rare breed — up there with the film industry — in that PR reps largely control the media landscape. That’s no secret, of course; most reviews are based on game copies provided by publishers, preview opportunities are usually a valuable commodity exchanged for some sort of premium placement and are often subject to embargoes that help coverage fall in line with marketing efforts, and countless sites just re-post press releases verbatim. This is a gross generalization, I realize, as there are a lot of great sites and journalists out there that go the extra mile to generate original content that wasn’t pushed by a PR rep — coincidentally a lot of these guys came from a traditional journalism background. But largely it’s the publishers that determine where and when their games get coverage, and in almost all cases the coverage is closely controlled to be positive.

The seedy underbelly of the games industry exposes itself. When a journalist goes rebels and does something as recklessly disrespectful and anti-gaming as write a negative article about a game or publisher, a lot of PR reps and executives forget that golden rule and do something so unimaginably dumb in times of duress that I just can’t wrap my batshit insane head around it: they put that journalist on their blacklist. This list may not actually exist as such — I’d love to meet a PR rep ballsy enough to have a Games_PR_Blacklist.xls file on his or her desktop — but at the very least it’s a big mental note that said journalist is to never, ever (EVER) be treated like a real human being so long as he lives. Forget about review copies, forget about invites to the E3 demo, forget about the lavish press tour and accompanying open bar.

While not always the case, most blacklisting is decreed from high up in the corporate structure, not from the PR team. After all, it’s the PR team’s job to get as much coverage as possible — big, positive coverage, of course — while ensuring that journalists love them and their company/client. When your intimidating, power-tripping, fancy-car-driving boss comes running into your office yelling, “How the fuck did you let this happen?! You’ll pay for this!” after a not-so-flattering review, it might seem like an affront to common sense to look him in the eye and say, “you know, I worked really hard on this campaign, really respect my relationship with this journalist and feel he makes some good points about our shitty game, so please stay out of my business.” That’s really what the reaction should be, though.

It shouldn’t be a yes-sir-I-shall-do-my-job kind of thing — you, the PR rep, want this journalist to cover your games in the future, right? What if you leave the company? What if your boss gets fired and new management has a good relationship with that writer? Forever you’ll be the jackass PR rep that had to repeatedly respond to the journalist with something like, “we don’t have any review code available” or “your invite must have been lost in the mail.” A PR professional’s most valuable asset is the contact list (a nice rack doesn’t hurt, as evidenced by yours truly)… or rather the relationships with the people on that contact list, and that fact should always be in the back of your mind. Always.

Sure, it’d be nice if we could live in China — they have a national journalist blacklist… we wouldn’t have to do the dirty work ourselves, and the journalists could be mad at someone else when they’re denied a coverage opportunity. But if there’s anything to be learned from China (or Iran or any other communications-controlling nation) it’s that if there’s a message that needs to get out there, it’ll get out. Social media — rise of Facebook and Twitter, yadda yadda — has connected people in such a way that any sort of negative story will spread just as quickly or faster than a positive one. Blacklist a journalist — or better yet, an entire website (I’d link to examples, but I do have to make a living by pitching publishers) — and word is likely to get out. A writer will put up a blog post, he’ll link it on Twitter and within a day you’re on the front page at Kotaku and Joystiq and Rock, Paper, Shotgun and GameSetWatch and Fidgit and EVERYWHERE.

So blacklisting was a good idea, right? The PR rep sacrifices a relationship with a journalist; the PR rep hates his boss a bit more; the publisher no longer gets coverage on a major website; and potentially, if that journalist is just batshit insane enough, the blacklisting actually becomes a negative PR story of its own, far worse than a 6.5 out of 10 review of a game that was supposed to get 8s.

I’ve had to blacklist people in an agency capacity — it’s been a couple of years, but it’s happened. I fought it, trying valiantly to convey the notion that the writer really made valid points (sometimes you guys really don’t help with this, by the way — play the damn game!). Conveniently, it’s usually been at the request/demand of a single client, so I’ve been able to maintain my relationships with other products… it’s a nice little loophole that’s kept me from looking like an asshole and gaining more enemies than I really need. I’m sure I’ll have to refuse review copies at some point in the future because my client/employer doesn’t like a journalist or website… but damn, I’m scared of things coming back to bite me in the ass. Wired’s Chris Anderson famously hit back at inept PR reps by creating a blacklist of his own, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we’re just building up slowly to some sort of armageddon for games-industry PR pros, when journalists just band together and say, “we’re running the show now” and create some sprawling online PR-rep blacklist. They’ll block our email addresses, screen our calls and throw out our party invites. They’ll dictate the coverage, they’ll write negative previews before a game ships, they won’t post shitty screenshots and lame hype trailers. And the PR professionals of the world will sit there, scratching our heads, wondering how journalists could have become so frustrated with us.

Splinter Cell: Conviction

The gruff stealth-action hero is back, and this time he’s Jason Bourne! Or Emo Sam Fisher. But that’s okay. I was never big on the Splinter Cell series because of the patience required to sneak around effectively, so the shift to a more action-oriented style of gameplay suits me just fine. This trailer shows off Ubisoft’s ever-increasing cinematic talents, and I, for one, welcome our new French overlords. This is how you break your media silence on a game, and coupled with the accompanying gameplay demos it seems to have effectively renewed interest in the franchise. Sure there are some people bitching that, “this isn’t Splinter Cell,” but to those people I say, “go play Metal Gear, you jerk.”

Verdict: B+

Crackdown 2

I’ll set myself up for a caning with this statement: “I’ve never played Crackdown.” It just hit while I was playing too much other stuff, and I’ve never been one to go way back and clear our my gaming backlog… there’s always something new coming down the pipe. That being said, this trailer didn’t magically spark my interest. The fact that you play as some sort of superhero-style dude comes through a bit, though perhaps the glut of games with superhero-style dudes is to blame for my lack of excitement about the whole concept. Okay, so I can jump really high, cause explosions and whatnot… fantastic. What else? Here’s to hoping that the new dev team at Ruffian can take over the reins from moved-on-to-APB Realtime Worlds and deliver something that gets me interested with gameplay footage.

Verdict: C

Crysis 2

Uhh… Shards? I have to assume that Crysis 2 isn’t too far in development, because showing off these little flecks of game footage in little bits of metal(?) just doesn’t scream, “our game is almost finished and we’re going to show it to you now!” I understand that this is just a teaser trailer, but that’s a real kick in the nuts. Crytek is going multiplatform with Crysis 2, but this trailer looks much more like fan service than anything intended to excite a wide audience. People who played Crysis to death: does this video actually show anything of interest? I can get burning buildings in a lot of other games.

Verdict: D

Assassin’s Creed 2

Oh, Ubisoft, can I have your babies? A lot of gamers lament the industry’s ongoing shift to more film-like qualities, but I welcome it. These cinematic trailers — which admittedly lack any form of gameplay — are effective mood-setters, and we do get a solid idea of what our sneaky cloaked assassin is capable of. I love the Venetian setting and the atmosphere it brings, despite the fact that the fireworks-and-noise-in-crowded-place scene reminds me of a variety of movies with similar cover for murders. I suspect some of this content will be used in what is sure to be a huge TV ad campaign when the game ships.

Verdict: A

The Beatles: Rock Band

Another caning is in order: I consider myself Beatles Agnostic. I’ve just never really cared for their music… until I watched the trailer and realized that, yes, I do actually like some of their stuff. And it does look damn cool to be able to go through their evolution from cuter-than-pie rockers to acid-tripping maniacs. The visual aesthetic is there, the music is there, the gameplay is there… yep, indeed, this trailer delivers what you would expect. And that’s a good thing. It surely won’t win over anyone who’s not enamored with Rock Band or The Beatles, but I don’t think Harmonix ever had delusions of such an event.

Verdict: B+

I shall be back with more thoughts on more videos, and if I can pry some of my fellow contributors away from the show floor for a minute, maybe someone else will chime in, too.

(this is pure header inspiration – thanks tom)

Yes, please.

Ah, the economy. Obama was supposed to fix it, but amazingly, even Superpresident himself can’t halt a global economic freefall in 100 days. Too bad, for a sound and stable economy would have made last Wednesday a little more enjoyable for me… or maybe a bit less chaotic. You see, the state of the economy is to blame for some layoffs we had to make at CD Projekt RED — we didn’t have to fire hundreds or thousands of people like a lot of other companies did, but nevertheless we were affected. Those layoffs spawned at least one disgruntled employee who felt the need to reach out to media to expose what was/is a very fragile situation in the development of The Witcher: Rise of the White Wolf.

On Tuesday I started getting emails about it: “I heard the game was cancelled; any comment?” The source of the rumor was a reputable Polish website, once again proving that no matter where news happens, it will eventually find its way to the masses; good job, Internet. As a communicator, this is a pretty crummy situation. I knew in general terms what was happening behind the scenes — namely that development had been suspended because we weren’t confident that the game could be delivered on time at the level of quality we require. But making a statement to that effect takes a lot of planning — you have to consider legal situations (i.e. we’re just the developer and can’t make any sort of announcement without the publisher’s consent), timing, exact phrasing, etc.

So normally all of this stuff should be settled through proper business channels, and we were content to let that happen. We had to pull out one of my least favorite tactics in the Grand Ol’ Book of PR Tactics — the “no comment” — but within a few days the story would surely become less newsworthy, allowing us to craft a proper statement. Then on Wednesday morning, our development partner actually issued a press release and conducted interviews laying blame for the situation on us.

Weeeeeeeeeee! is the sound that spewed from my mouth and every other orifice — some sort of gaseous escape caused by sudden panic and my insides going, “ah shit, man.” I’m not sure why it happened, but nevertheless the headlines of “Witcher not seeing consoles because CD Projekt can’t pay developers” weren’t sitting well with any of us. I had to keep offering up “no comment” responses to the accusations, even as the full extent of the development situation became clearer to me. Compound my inability to make a statement with the fact that discussions about the situation were taking place halfway around the world in Poland, where the rest of CD Projekt is based… and, well, I wasn’t having a great day.

This is one of the greatest dilemmas in a PR rep’s day — you have journalists, many of whom are friends, asking you to respond to rather unsavory accusations, and you can’t give them a straight answer. Then the stories — rightfully so — turn to “Company will not deny the rumors, leading us to believe they’re true.” And now, as a PR rep, you’re in a position you don’t want to be in: other people are controlling your messaging for you. It sucks to watch people drag your name through the mud… even consumers who see only one side of the story start to change their opinions of your company. And even if you have a chance to eventually address the rumors formally, a number of those consumers are bound to miss the news update, and their opinion of your organization may have been negatively affected forever.

Case in point: we still haven’t made a formal statement about the situation. CD Projekt’s Joint CEO, Michal Kicinski, posted a response in the comment section one of the original stories, and a number of sites went back and adjusted their posts to reflect our side of things. But not all of them. I’m sure there are still a lot of journos out there that haven’t seen his comment, and those journalists’ readers, by extension, still have a very one-sided view of the situation.

Crisis communication isn’t fun. What it does, though, is give us a quick kick in the ass and test our ability to keep cool. It would be so easy to just blast an email to my media contacts or put up a post on a forum explaining the whole situation. But that would be stupid, right?

But as with all formal business, why would you leave something to chance? With the unreliability of the ever-growing Twitter, is it really fair to assume that I’m going to get your DM for assets in a timely manner? Or am I being naive and thinking that I have a choice in the means of communication?

Twitter is starting to become one more thing journalists and PR people have to check for professional communications after we check MySpace, Facebook, email, AIM, and Voicemail. Is it a fair assumption that Twitter, with all its real-time carefree social glory, is yet another mandatory inbox?

I hope not.