A work is REAL when it pretty much achieves what the creator wanted. It’s well-crafted, engaging, and satisfying (except when it’s not supposed to be). This isn’t a guarantee that everyone will enjoy it, but anyone who’s interested will find it worth their time.1
A work is ASS when it’s not real. Whatever the creator’s goals were, the work doesn’t achieve them, through huge design or execution flaws. The end result has little to no redeeming qualities—it leaves you bored, frustrated, and feeling like your time’s been wasted, even if you walk out early.
But sometimes you can fail and still create something interesting. A great story that blows up halfway through, a garbage movie with a standout performance, or a novel game destroyed by glitches. When something fails, but it leaves a lasting impression, if there’s something there for the curious or the dedicated, it is REAL-ASS.2
“7.5 out of 10” doesn’t mean anything. It’s arbitrary, subjective, and without context it’s totally worthless—just a weird katamari of bullshit, including the reviewer’s preferences, their personal scoring system, and other things they’ve scored recently. It invites comparisons between works that shouldn’t be compared, implies a degree of precision that doesn’t exist, and it’s never useful as a singular takeaway.
At the same time, ending summaries can have value. If you’re diving deep on analysis, it’s important to pull the reader back to Earth by the end. The Three-Point Scale (name pending) is a qualitative answer to the most important question any reader will have: Is this worth my time?
It’s also really fucking satisfying to officially declare something ASS. I’m human.