In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talents, new creations. The new needs friends.

I remember the first time I heard those words in the theater, during an afternoon showing of Ratatouille. I was enjoying the movie up until that point, and my kids in particular were quite taken with the talking rats and their lively work in the kitchen. After listening to that speech, though, I felt like a lightning bolt hit me. No one had ever summed up the work I wanted to do so well. My wife made me a print with Anton Ego's impressive image and that speech for me to hang in my office for Christmas this year, and I think about it often.

I've always believed in two things: we must be effusive about the games we love, and we must be brutal with those we hate. Writing for Ars Technica has allowed me to do both, and I hope I did it well. Today is my last day with the site, and I feel it's important to describe what it was like to call this site home for the past several years.

Just over a decade ago, I approached Editor-in-Chief Ken Fisher about the possibility of publishing some of my own gaming content on Ars. Ken always said that Ars was not a gaming site, despite gaming news and reviews flanking the usual IT news and science content. I prevailed upon Ken, and I was finally given a chance to write a review (I believe this decision was made mostly to shut me up, but it backfired). Instead it simply gave me a lust for both the site and the idea that I could do something special with gaming here.

Soon after I became embroiled in a bitter argument with a member of the forums, and was "temp banned." It was about a week before the temp ban expired, and the notification e-mail saying my purgatory was over was followed shortly by a job offer from Ken. Back then there was very little money to be made writing online, and the idea of a full-time job seemed like a pipe dream. Once a slow trickle of money began to come in, I promptly quit my retail job. I had found my calling.

I had no real idea what to do with the chunk of the site I was given, and it felt as if I was pitching my first game in Yankee Stadium. I had immense respect for the Ars Technica name and brand, and I spent every hour of every day cranking out stories and trying to figure out the best way to write about a topic I was so passionate about. I made many mistakes and learned as I went, and suddenly our audience began to grow. Ars Technica will never be a gaming site, and it shouldn't be, but I grew convinced that I could make our gaming section something worthy of the orange logo.

Most of my day is spent working with Eric Bangeman, the site's Managing Editor, and we've had many disagreements about stories or angles. He also had a trick of making his case, and then allowing me to argue for a bit while he remained silent. After a few minutes of thinking through whatever the subject was, I almost always came to agree with him. I remember turning in a story I knew was going to be controversial, and I got ready to argue my case about why I should be allowed to say the things I was going to say. Eric, to his eternal credit, sent me one message: "Are you sure?" I said yes, and he published it without changing a word. It's rare to work with an editor who believes in you so much that he trusts your judgment on the big issues, but is critical enough to make every story you turn in better. He deserves just as much, if not more, credit than I do if you enjoy our gaming coverage.

Nate Anderson also took me under his wing for two intense weeks where he went through every story I wrote, line by line, explaining to me each problem with grammar, spelling, or composition. It was brutal, and demoralizing, and it drove me to drink my way through quite a few afternoons. Those 14 days were miserable, and my mind was filled with dark thoughts about editors and what I could do to them with hammers and baseball bats. Those two weeks were also worth about a year of college when it came to writing [Editor's note: make that two years]. Nate chewed up a kid who had more ego than skill and spit out something that resembled, if you squinted at it in a dark room, an actual writer. I will be eternally grateful to him.

Ken Fisher is the Editor in Chief at Ars, and anything I say will just add to the legend, so I'll keep this brief. I have never seen anyone do so much for their editors and writers as Ken. He doesn't sleep. He may eat at some point. But you'll always find him working, and he's always available for one of his patented "quick calls" where you spend multiple hours talking about everything and anything. Ars Technica didn't get lucky, and nothing was ever left to chance. Ken taught me to make small changes, and to roll them out in small increments. He is always respectful and aware of what makes Ars great, and he never compromises when it came to the quality of the site. His appreciation and respect for our audience is amazing.

This site has the best staff when it comes to delivering, shaping, and honing news coverage, bar none. I feel extremely blessed to have worked with everyone here for as long as I have.

So what about gaming? And where am I going?

I could have happily worked for Ars Technica for the rest of my life, but when I received a call from Penny Arcade's Jerry Holkins, I began to think how great it would be to embark on a new adventure. Penny Arcade offered me the same thing that made me so insistent on writing for Ars: the ability to try to do my own thing at a site I love and respect. Making the move to writing about the gaming industry for Penny Arcade is going to take some adjustment, but they've done everything right when it comes to expanding their brand, and I'm proud to have been asked to be a part of those efforts. You'll be able to find my coverage at Penny Arcade starting in the next few weeks, and we'll be able to share more details very soon.

There were very few people I would want taking over my position at Ars, and one name stood out. His name is Kyle Orland, and he has degrees in Journalism and Computer Science, and has been writing about video games since 1997. He cowrote the Videogame Style Guide and Reference Manual, and has written for Joystiq, Gamasutra, and MSNBC. He's also a close friend of mine who has given me help and guidance through tough situations. In other words, you're in good hands. Kyle will be showing up here at Ars later this week.

I've written way more than I expected to, and I know I'm being very self-indulgent, but Ars has been my home for the better part of a decade. I'm going to miss it, and I'm going to miss you guys, and I want to thank you for showing up to read for these years.

Goodbye Ars, and keep up the good work!

A word from the Editor

Ken here! Ben said some incredibly kind things above. Embarrassing even. But I left them in. The fact is, we're a very close family and we vex each other only as much as we love each other. And in Ben's case, he's a cherished member of the family. Now he's packing his bags, and we're sad, but hey, he's going to Penny Arcade! That's like seeing your son grow up, go to Harvard Law, and then get a job at the CIA. Penny Arcade rules, and I was absolutely floored when I learned that we'd lose Ben to such awesome guys.

Ben has kept Ars fun, swift, and unafraid. I love him and wish him the best, along with his amazing wife and their beautiful children. I'm honored to have played a small part in his story.