Having given the article a full read, it kind of sucks.
It's not saying anything worthwhile you haven't already seen in the average forum debate in less articulate language (but possibly argued better). It's not really a neutral look either, it's just passively "anti-difficulty" (I guess you might like it if you agree), though less passive during the points it tiredly invokes gamergate and nonsensical (borderline projection) interpretations on why people dislike easy games (and bully poor game journalists, blah blah - pro tip: always make sure your argument is about the meanest people on twitter you can find and not the actual ideas involved). There's two parts that baffled me upon looking closer and I think there's some value in addressing them.
These terms are loaded with a witty scorn that obscures their raison d'etre. The range of difficulties was not principally included to flatter or shame players, but to give arcade operators options that could be tweaked in order to maximise their profits in the wild. With arcade games, as the novelist David Mitchell once wrote, you pay to delay the inevitable. In other words: failure is certain. But an arcade game that is too challenging produces players that feel short-changed and resentful. A spread of secret difficulty levels enables an arcade operator to calibrate a game's challenge behind the scenes, and, having monitored the effects on his public, maximise profits. For this reason every Neo Geo game comes with no fewer than eight difficulty levels.
Video game difficulty was, then, a commercial elaboration, not an artistic one. For many developers, it was a requirement that distracted from their ideal vision for their game. After all, it is not difficult to make a difficult game. You simply weight the numbers (how quickly enemy bullets travel through time and space; how little health the player's avatar is given; how much damage inflicted by a fireball) and stack the odds against the player. The much harder task is to create a perfectly calibrated piece of work, one that is, to lean on this medium's pet cliché, easy to learn but hard to master.
Yet, the terminology used to describe these difficulty options had already forged a firm link in players' minds between challenge and pride. Games that did not present much impediment, induce much perplexity, or require much perseverance were seen as somehow lesser works, made, in Psikyo's language, for babies or monkeys. Difficulty was fast becoming a term that could be used to exclude, to erect border walls.
He conflates a bunch of ideas about difficulty, arcade games, and arcades (there's even a reference to credit-feeding as "delaying the inevitable"), most of which is a non-sequitur to the argument over "difficulty as art" outside the context of sleazy arcade owners, and eventually, somehow, stumbles out with a theory that mean difficulty names programmed gamers to dislike low complexity or low challenge games out of pride. It's a colossally stupid point, because it comes down to taste, not pride, what type of games people choose to play and champion, not to mention there were many popular story-centric and low difficulty games concurrently (he's talking about 90's era STGs). Maybe it's not really worth dwelling on, but any sort of push back towards walking simulators is not about trivial things like "gamer pride" or infantile ideas like "they just hate us because we're different!", it's because of people value different things in game design and want these values to be considered what is "good", or "art", in critical discussion (which game journalists participate in, if not dominate, by being published "critics", thus open to criticism themselves). If people value difficulty, skill, complexity, etc., then it will be reflected in their impression of games and the opinions of others, including those they dislike.
The part that sticks out to me is how he acknowledges the mean difficulty names, but before allowing himself to contemplate why they bother with rudeness in the first place, he implies they are useless from the perspective of the developer and merely accidentally bound the concept of difficulty and pride (as if the concepts are not directly linked without this little flair, might as well throw in "expertise" while you are at it) - wow, I guess this whole difficulty business was a misconception from the start! Difficulty names with this sort of flavor do serve a (small) purpose though. Having made the compromise of allowing the game to be clearable by a much lower bar (or more rarely, risen the bar to a ridiculous degree), they signal to the player what is the best or most meaningful ways to play the game among these now very different options. "Monkey", "Baby", or some other taunt says "this is a bad way to play, aim for a higher difficulty (if not now, then later)", differentiating one option from another. This is similar to the effect of a "game over", where the game tells "you chose wrong" in more explicit terms, giving interactivity meaning by introducing success and failure. It's certainly an "artistic" choice. (Note that this idea really isn't present in the scenario he draws where the arcade operator changes settings otherwise invisible to the player, making his whole point here all the more aimless.)
He goes on to reference Updike as an authority on criticism, which is not unreasonable at all, but he doesn't really say much besides "Updike said this and it is good". He doesn't spend any effort explaining the kind of criticism Updike used nor how people perceived him (not even a penis joke!). And in light of that superficiality, the rules he brings up though are pretty trite and easily dismissed without further elaboration. From here on, the author only contributes cliche lines.
"1. Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt."
Not exactly a revelation for videogame criticism. This is a popular debate strat for any fanboy of a poorly received game. Here's a better idea: express yourself, what/how/why the piece made you feel, and if you are not a helpless ape, maybe you'll say something of value to other humans with tastes similar to yours. Of course, the statement isn't worthless, but what the author feels it says, in "other words", certainly is:
In other words, the creator of a bullet hell shooter should not criticised for not making her game more accessible for those unable to tuck and weave through the rolling curtain of danger. Likewise, the creator of a ponderous game about death or flowers, bureaucracy or race hate should not be criticised for not making his game an arena in which players can demonstrate their dexterity or quick-wittedness.
So hard games are hard and easy games are easy, some games are about combat and some are not. This doesn't address anything at all and you definitely didn't need to quote a famous author to say it. The issue is that at the end of the day, everyone is still going to have an opinion (and be compelled to share that opinion wide and far if they are paid for), whether you think a game has too little or shallow interactivity or if you think the game is too hard or "cheap". They are also going to have opinions on a meta-level, where very different forms of games are compared and contrasted. And videogames can be very complex, do you even know what the developers were trying to do? I guess his point is don't criticize walking simulators for being simplistic and don't whine about a lack of difficulty settings, just don't criticize certain things in certain ways, because John Updike said so (he thinks). There's also another rule with an even more meaningless closing line added to it:
"Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any tradition, an enforcer of any party standards, a warrior in an ideological battle, or a corrections officer of any kind," he wrote. To riff on Sony's current advertising slogan: video games are for everyone, even if some video games are specifically for someone.
More so than the previous line, it's largely misused. The author's trick is that he's calling people ideological warriors, he himself turning the debate of game difficulty in a "cultural" one, and then using this line to dismiss what it isn't really talking about. I mean, it has way more to do with feminist critique or being friends with a developer and so on, than thinking videogames with complex interactivity are better (an "aesthetic" concept in the wider sense).
A cynical part of me thinks the author cared more about name-dropping Toaplan and Updike within the same article for novelty's sake rather than making sense.