No, I’m not talking about all the hoopla over the allegations that football’s governing body is so corrupt that the Mafia have started sending its members on FIFA business management courses, or the fact that they managed to stage the kind of election that would leave even Robert Mugabe saying “Now, hang on a minute.” I’m not even referring to Sepp Blatter’s post re-election press conference, during which his analogy to FIFA as a ship couldn’t have made him sound more like the captain of the Titanic if he’d broken out into an impromptu rendition of “My heart will go on”.

No, I’m talking, of course, of EA Sports’ official unveiling of FIFA 12, the next edition in its colossally popular football franchise, which is due out later this year. Proof, if ever any were needed, that no matter how cleverly you plan an announcement, you just can’t legislate for a juicy scandal stealing your thunder.

EA must have thought their timing was perfect. Coming just days after a show-stopping Champions League final, football fans about to embark on their arduous trek through the arid summer wilderness with only a drip feed of speculative transfer rumours to sustain them, would surely lap up every last drop of FIFA information. Instead, the news was washed away in a torrent of allegations over bribery and shady dealings within the organisation from which the series takes its name.

It’s a shame, because the game’s headline new features sound genuinely worthy of attention. The player impact engine is set to bring real-world physics and physicality to every shoulder barge, sliding tackle and other moment of contact between players. Precision dribbling will allow those with the appropriate skills to weave their way through the opposing ranks without having to produce a show reel of Hollywood-style tricks, and tactical defending will make it easier to snuff out threatening attacks.

What’s initially puzzling about the FIFA 12 reveal, though, is why EA is choosing to market the game as a “revolution rather than an evolution”. FIFA 11 mounted a very strong case for being the greatest football simulator ever, and while the changes in FIFA 12 seem both intelligent and attractive, they sound like steps forward rather than leaps. It’s hard to think, therefore, of a single reason why EA would want to talk in such hyperbolic terms.

But there are, of course, two very obvious reasons.

The first of these, is that the slogan is a direct dig at FIFA’s biggest rival, Konami’s Pro Evolution Soccer, which has been stuck down something of a Darwinian dead end since the start of the current console generation. The second, and by far the more important, however, comes from the leaked news that EA are planning to up the Recommended Retail Price for FIFA 12 to an almost insulting £54.99.

It’s normally hard enough for publishers to justify charging full price for annual sports franchises that return with metronomic regularity, usually with only minor alternations. So for FIFA 12, EA really needs to pull out all the stops to try and convince you that what it’s doing is more than just blatant profiteering.

What’s really disappointing about all of this, is that the revolution in the FIFA series actually took place in FIFA 08. Back then, it was a real revolution, based on an ideology, a dream, a desire to make FIFA the best football game ever whilst still retaining its popularity.

I’m certain FIFA 12 will turn out to be a stunning football game, possible the greatest to date, but if Electronic Arts really wants to make a significant change, all it needs to do is drop the price and switch the series’ name to disassociate themselves from the body that epitomises everything that’s worst about football. They won’t, of course, because the kind of money FIFA 12 is set to generate doesn’t just talk to you, it screams at you. And with this apparently EA’s primary concern, I can’t help finding FIFA 12’s talk of revolution slightly revolting.

"Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's first-party exclusives..."

Welcome to our official scoring guide. If you’re here, chances are it’s because we’ve pissed you off and you’re stockpiling ammunition for an unholy comments thread rant. You might also be a developer or PR person, or (snigger) somebody who respects our judgement deeply and needs, NEEDS, to read more. Whatever your motives, I hope the following makes sense. If it doesn’t, give us a yell.

A few things you should know. First off, we promise to play each game we review to plot or campaign completion or, where resources are scarce, for a solid 10 hours. In an ideal world the former would always be the case, but as I don’t appear to be sitting in an enameled sedan chair with platinum cup-holders, conveyed through Kikizo Network’s glass-fronted offices by an army of writers and editors just begging to cancel their daughter’s birthdays in exchange for code, there will, alas, be times when we struggle to hit the credit roll. We feel 10 hours is more than sufficient time to form a rounded impression of most games.

Secondly, we’re sometimes sent “99% proof” debug code for review. This is true of every major review site, particularly when the embargo on coverage lifts a week or more before release day. In such situations, we promise to liaise with PR contacts over remaining technical issues (if any), and to check the review copy against a retail or promo version as and when we get hold of one. In the very, very rare event that there are notable discrepancies between versions, we will update the review to suit.

Thirdly, a review is just an opinion, and everybody’s entitled to one. A day will come when we won’t have to remind people of this.

Fourthly and finally, we now use integers (whole numbers) rather than decimals when scoring a game. No silly “six and three ninths out of 10” nonsense round these parts.

And now for the tasty bit: what our scores actually mean. Short answer: nothing, the text is king. Long answer is over the page.

A quick disclaimer. Modern Warfare 2 is, in all probability, going to be one of the best-executed and most substantial shooters you play this year. I was very impressed by the game when I previewed it last month, and the fact that my name won’t be gracing our review when it goes live tonight is the cause of many a flung teacup at Kikizo Towers (the honour falls instead to FPS Gamer’s veteran duelist Kristan Reed, with whom I’m currently not on speaking terms).

Not every aspect of the game or its titanic marketing putsch is above question, however, and as the first pre-orders blast through letterboxes and all-night-queues sprout from the doors of HMV, we should take time to reflect on the controversies Activision and Infinity Ward have ignited in the run-up to release.

The furore over pricing needs no introduction, nor is it chief among my concerns. A £55 RRP (or $60 across the Atlantic) is pretty steep given the reported shortish campaign length (Kristan’s run-time is 7-8 hours), Activision’s refusal to supply dedicated servers and the absence of crucial new gameplay functionality (not to mention a host of minor compromises), but retailers haven’t turned a deaf ear to consumer complaints – you can now pick the game up for two-thirds to as little as half the RRP in most major UK supermarkets. Over on GamesIndustry.biz, Rob Fahey has commented with characteristic eloquence on the risk that Activision’s brash pricing strategies will find over-eager imitators, but in the near future at least there seems to be nothing to worry about.

Yours for just $150. Cheer up, it could be the PSPgo.

The infamous playable airport massacre sequence leaked online a few weeks ago deserves less forgiving attention. Right-wing tabloid rants concerning the effects of such (100% skippable) material on the hearts and minds of young people are as predictable as they are groundless, but why, we might ask, did Infinity Ward feel obliged to provoke such reaction at all? Considered (admittedly) out of context, the decision to let players slaughter civilians in callously unhurried style seems little more than a shock tactic, a morbid attempt to one-up the previous game’s hostage execution intro, rather than a sensitively judged trot into the realms of ultra-realism.