At this point, it seems likely that Gordon Freeman is going to win GameSpot's All Time Greatest Game Hero contest.

This is the wrong choice. There is only one right answer to the question, "Who is the all-time greatest game hero?" That answer is Mario.

You may think that this is a matter of opinion. I am not so sure. To quote Roger Ebert, "There is a point when a personal opinion shades off into an error of fact." Whether the original Star Wars trilogy or the Lord of the Rings trilogy is better is a question of opinion. Whether Citizen Kane or Boat Trip is better is a question of fact. You might enjoy Boat Trip more, that's fine. But if you think that Boat Trip is the better film, you're simply wrong, in the same way that you're wrong if you think a painting of dogs playing poker is a better work of art than the Mona Lisa.

I am not saying that Mario is the greatest game hero of all time because I'm a slavish fan of all things Mario. I am not. I've barely played Super Mario 64, for instance, and didn't care for Sunshine much at all.

But from a historical perspective, I don't see how any other answer can stand up.

Mario has been there from almost the earliest days of video games. He was Jumpman, for crying out loud, in 1981's seminal Donkey Kong. Since then, the number of excellent, important, and innovative games in which he has starred outstrips the number featuring any other hero by a tremendous margin. I'm not going to start listing them. I think they are already very well-known to most people who will read this blog.

This is not to take anything away from Gordon Freeman. I'm a huge fan of the Half-Life games. But Mario he is not. You can certainly have enjoyed the Half-Life games more than all of the Mario games put together. But the Half-Life games, while certainly important and influential, have not had the same degree of impact on gaming's history as games starring Mario. No other hero's games have.

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As long as I'm on the topic of greatness, let me also address a recent argument, made on ABC News, that Metroid Prime is the Citizen Kane of games.

Here is an actual sentence from the text version of that argument, which achieves a kind of zen-like beauty in its perfect absurdity:

"In the same way that Citizen Kane harnessed every technical component in film to express its post-mortem reassembly of an irrepressible and heartbroken man, Metroid Prime uses all of its technology to recreate the experience of a woman abandoned on an alien world inhabited by the ghosts of its prelapsarian inhabitants."

To see the ABC News piece, complete with a reaction that sums up my own feelings pretty well, check out this Rev Rant at Destructoid. (Warning: contains adult language.) For a skillful textual destruction of the Metroid Prime = Citizen Kane argument, I highly recommend this piece by Anthony Burch.

I'm all for games being viewed with more legitimacy by the mainstream press. Making absurd claims like this one, though, is not the way to go about it. In fact, as someone who wants games to be taken more seriously, I find arguments like this embarrassing. When people go on ABC News of all places and make patently ridiculous arguments like this one, it makes me want to scream, "Dude, YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"

Let games be great on their own terms. Don't try to compare a game about a space bounty hunter who goes around shooting things to one of the richest, most influential and complex films of all time. Please, just don't.

It may seem a tad early to start talking about the best games of the decade, but I went in to Starbucks today and they're already serving the damn pumpkin spice latte, which is the official sign for me that this decade is on its way out.

Over the next few months, my plan is to write a new entry about my favorite games of the decade, whenever the heck I feel like it. To kick things off, I'm going to write about my favorite downloadable game.

I'm old enough to remember the heyday of arcades. In the early 1980s, games were all about proving yourself, about seeing how you stack up against the competition, people like JIM and AAA and the fabled ASS. And no one separated the wheat from the chaff quite like Pac-Man.

I'm painting in pretty broad strokes here, but it seemed to me that over time, gaming in general became less about testing your skills and measuring yourself against the competition, and more about experiences that nearly everyone could enjoy and complete, if they put in the time and effort. Oh, you beat A Link to the Past? Well, I beat it better than you did! Oh yeah? Prove it. It's certainly true that the competitive spirit flourished in arcades as fighting games rose to prominence, but I always found this genre intimidating and inaccessible. I preferred the simplicity and anonymity of games like Pac-Man and Donkey Kong. (Interestingly, my appreciation for fighting games has developed quite a bit in recent years, and Street Fighter IV is one of my favorite games of this year. But I digress.)

Throughout the latter part of this decade, though, as online services became more sophisticated and leaderboards more commonplace, there has been a renaissance of straightforward, challenging games where the focus is on scoring more points than everyone else. There have been a slew of excellent titles that fit this bill; the Geometry Wars games would probably be the first choice for most people, and my favorite from this year's offerings is the captivating Shatter. My personal pick for best in category for the 2000s, though, would be Pac-Man: Championship Edition.

Pac-Man: CE takes everything that made Pac-Man one of the most compulsively playable games of all time, and makes it better. It's faster, moving at a speed that just feels right, and it makes the original feel stiff in comparison. The clock is always ticking, creating a new sense of pressure to cram as many points as possible into each moment. The field of play is constantly evolving. The trance-like music is a perfect accompaniment to the zen-like sense of focus one feels when fully engrossed in the action. (Oh, how I love that sense of focus.) And the visuals are stunning; everything is infused with a neon glow that somehow makes the game more reflective of my memories of playing the original in dimly-lit, cacophonous arcades than the original itself.

Of course, it helped immensely that I had a few terrific players to test my skills against. Aaron Thomas, Carrie Gouskos and I engaged in a friendly but very hard-fought battle on the leaderboards, giving me more incentive than I might have otherwise felt to really get good at the game, making victory all the sweeter and defeat all the more crushing. Few experiences I've had with games can match the exhilaration I felt when pulling ahead in the final few seconds, or the sinking feeling when a single slip-up several minutes into a game turned a shot at triumph into a wasted opportunity.

I'm at a respectable 579 on the global leaderboards, and I don't think I have it in me to ever go back and try for better. I lived and breathed this game for a little while. I gave it everything I had. It tested me, and it punished me, and there were times when I hated it, but even when I hated it, I loved it. I can't go back, but I'll never forget the experience.

The high score battle is back, hopefully to stay. There could have been no one better to lead its triumphant return than the Man who helped kick it off in the first place.

I just tossed up some quick thoughts on the whole "Should we boycott Shadow Complex?" question. Given the topic's political nature, I felt my personal blog was a more appropriate place to post it. If interested, you can check out my thoughts here.

EDIT: If you are going to comment here, please do me the courtesy of reading my blog entry first. I welcome comments here but only if they are actually in response to my entry on this issue. Thanks.