When Satoru Iwata first started to interrogate his staff for the amusement and enlightenment of the gaming public, it was the beginning of something magical. Until then, virtually all insight into the workings of Nintendo's development process was provided through the lens of "video game journalists." Mere men, slaves to their biases and desires, like any of us. We ask only the questions we want answers to, and tinge the "news" with our own jaded insights and desires. But then came Iwata Asks, piping pure uncut Columbian Nintendo directly into our veins.
As it turns out, we didn't need the journalists in the first place! When Nintendo just talks to the fans directly, they tell us the things we never would've thought to ask. Marvelous little anecdotes, the true intent behind controversial features, and the fuel that drives their passions. We hear about a game from the people who are excited to make it, rather than those who are excited (or not) to play it, and can form our own opinions instead of subconsciously adopting those endemic to the reporter.
If Iwata Asks tightened the noose around game journalism's neck, Nintendo Direct kicked the chair out from under it.
With the Wii, Nintendo saw a caustic market, and decided to move laterally to avoid having to compete in it. But that exposed yet another damaging element: a news media dead set upon treating the Wii like a joke. When you're reliant on the media to spread your message, it's difficult (if not impossible) to convey anything without reporters adding their two cents along with it, or only cherry-picking the items that suit their agenda (see: politics).
Enter: Nintendo Direct. With the ubiquity of "video on the Internet," what was to stop Nintendo from just streaming the goods directly to fans? Oh, nothing. So Iwata has expanded his role as ringmaster, addressing not just his staff, but the audience directly. Once more we're treated to a presentation devoid of agenda, a genuine showcase of what's new. The goods, unmolested, highlighted in the manner most befitting them. And so frequent! This kind of presentation was once reserved for those rare annual events, the E3's, the SpaceWorlds. But now we get one every couple months. Sometimes even more frequently than that! They've activated the fanbase, gotten them excited for new deets straight from the horse's mouth. It's hard not to feel catered to when a company speaks to you directly.
Much of this we owe to the man himself, Satoru "Biff" Iwata. Nintendo Direct and Iwata Asks wouldn't work with just any old video game exec., as Mr. Fils-Aime makes perfectly clear every time he opens his smacking gob. There's a humbleness to Iwata, a genuine desire to please, but also an almost suffocating genius that comes from the tremendous insight he has into the industry he has helped build. I could listen to him describe a bowel movement in excruciating detail, and hang on every last corn-encrusted word. Wow that's gross.
With Nintendo so firmly taking care of its own business here, what's left for a journalist to do? "Report on the Iwata Asks and Nintendo Direct" yeah great okay. But perhaps it's time to flex those analytical muscles. A little less "I am describing the game I just playtested, but you could get the same info from the press sheet," and a little more insight into what we don't already know. Give us some credit, assume we know the basics. Tell us how a game feels, tell us about that little detail we would have missed, put your experience into a context we can relate to. The video game industry isn't politics, it isn't international intrigue, it's companies making products. We don't need journalists to summarize what the companies are already telling us, we need people who can fill in the gaps with their personal experience.
For those who know how to listen, Nintendo has got their promotion pretty much handled. And on those rare occasions where a journalist can make his way to someone who can actually answer questions (invariably someone Japanese), there is some value in what the traditional games media can offer. But on those remaining 364 days of the year, we're going to need something new. Something better than top ten lists and "if I were running Nintendo" editorials. If journalism doesn't want to wither and die, it will need to transform. Into what? Well, we'll just have to wait and see.