Stars flatten everything into the middle. A wider scale tells the truth about what you actually loved.
Five stars is really three
Ask people to rate on five stars and almost everything lands on three, four, or five. One and two stars feel like an insult, so a scale that looks like five options quietly becomes three.
That compression hides exactly the information you want later: the difference between a solid four and a life-changing four.
A wider scale gives you room to be honest
On 0–100 there is space between “good” and “great,” and between “fine” and “forgettable.” An 82 and a 94 are both positive, but they are not the same memory — and a year from now that gap is the whole point.
It also makes your taste comparable across formats. A book, a film, and a board game can sit on one axis, so your favorites of the year actually compete with each other.
Normalized, so your 90 means something
Everyone uses a scale differently. loggit normalizes each person’s ratings against their own history, so a generous rater and a harsh one can still be compared fairly.
The number stays personal to log, but becomes shared context when you make it public — one honest signal instead of a wall of identical four-stars.