Editor's note: Jon makes a very convincing argument about the near impossibility of a good game-to-film adaptation. How do you reconcile two gamers' idea of who Gordon Freeman is? -James

If recent news is anything to go by, it seems the fact that critics pan almost every single video-game movie adaptation isn't deterring anyone from making them. Somewhere out there, devout groups of fans are willing to sit through 90 minutes of cinematic garbage -- or else studios wouldn't be allotting these films larger and larger budgets.

The latest video-game movie reportedly entering production is Mass Effect, BioWare's expansive science-fiction epic. The game joins an ever-growing list of upcoming adaptations which include Naughty Dog's Uncharted, Quantic Dream's Heavy Rain, and a sequel to 2007's Hitman, based on the long-running assassination series from IO Interactive.

Almost without exception, video-game movies are bad -- regardless of high budgets, a quality cast, or great source material. But who's at fault? Is it movie studios that reserve their A-list talent for projects with wider audiences? Or does converting interactivity into a wild -- but passive -- rollercoaster ride present an inherent problem?

To my mind, incredibly tough decisions face producers whenever they start work on films of this nature. They can either make a movie that gets as close to the source material as possible, or they can go in the opposite direction and put together something that takes a few key elements from the game and reworks the rest.

The success or failure of a project depends on this decision, but ultimately, both choices present drawbacks that no one has yet surmounted.

To make a movie that acts as mere homage to the source material is risky: Such adaptations hinge upon the goodwill of franchise fans for success. Mess with the source material too much, and you'll have a group of rabid nerds hungry for blood on your hands. They'll inevitably demand to know why their favorite element from the game didn't make an appearance in the movie. But the original fanbase is crucial to the success of these types of film, and losing them can be devastating to the outcome of the release.

This method of adaptation also tends to make your reasons for initiating the project look a little morally dubious. If you've drastically changed the source material, it begs the question as to why the studio needed to base the film on an existing intellectual property in the first place. Loose adaptations have the distinctive waft of "cash in" drifting about them. This approach leads to a bland, soulless piece of cinema with no real identity -- save what it cribs from its namesake.

Completely appropriating everything about the original game also presents a distinct set of problems. At first glance, lifting the characters, events, and art style original game great wholesale looks like a great idea. It adds legitimacy to the film franchise and justifies it as a valid tie-in.

If you consider the insurmountable differences between what makes a great game and what makes a great movie, potholes pit this path even more gravely than switching everything around. A film is an enjoyable experience when its characters are sympathetic and charismatic -- qualities appealing to a passive observer. Gaming protagonists are generally blank slates -- the player fills in the gaps with their own participation.

On a paper script, Far Cry's Jack Carver is a boring, boring man. He intermittently delivers a few lines of expository dialogue and lapses into silence for hours at a time. As a playable character, he's far more interesting. Carver can take out dozens of men at a time and escape by jumping off a cliff and paragliding to safety.

A separate set of distinctions make a character like Jack Carver interesting for every gamer that's played Far Cry. That's because everyone plays the game a little differently. My sneaky-assassin Carver might be the opposite of your gung-ho, Ramboesque Carver. Trying to translate these differing personalities into a single, cinematic entity can only result in a character that's a bland, boring husk.

This is why film adaptations of games unilaterally end up being awful -- regardless of the talent involved in them. Mark Protosevich -- the writer currently attached to Mass Effect -- may have created  the script for I Am Legend, but unless he happens to be the visionary that can make this whole idea work, his film will likely have little more critical impact than a Uwe Boll film.