One, we need to get past the idea that criticism exists in a vacuum, a kind of intellectual exercise that has no motivations, intent, or effects of its own. The whole "I'm just stating an opinion, you aren't afraid of opinions, you aren't defensive about having your medium scrutinized, are you" argument is getting increasingly stale both for over-use and under-examination.
For some reason, too often I see people willing to indulge a couple of seemingly obvious double standards: that games have major effects to change thinking and ideology, but the critical pieces- often far more deliberate and targeted in their intent- do not, and that games are obligated to carefully examine their characters to avoid generalizations, stereotypes, and unfortunate implications, but writers of pieces examining the medium are under no similar obligation to explicitly separate the aspects of the game they find "problematic" from the assumption that the audience is at best a passive recipient and at worst an eager consumer of said aspects.
For all the supposed "depth" of this critical assessment, the subtext of the exchange seems more telling: This game is saying that poor people are expendable! Actually, I'm getting something entirely different out of the game than that, and I'm in no danger of going out and serial-murdering homeless people, but thank you for the patronizing implication.
Two, "Why are you afraid of criticism, games can't be art unless they're subject to criticism" implies a willful ignorance of both history and the current environment. The "typical" gamer, if studies are to be believed, is now in their thirties; that doesn't change the fact that many, many people continue to view the medium as one aimed at and consumed by children. Nor that quite a number of those people eagerly consume criticism that depicts games as antisocial activities that divorce people of empathy and train them to violence, but would never deign to actually play the games described in those criticisms to determine whether the depictions were accurate or if they had features that redeemed them. Nor that many of those people will happily throw their weight into letters to the editor, correspondence with elected officials, and threatened boycotts against major retailers to get "those games" off the shelves or place them under tighter restrictions, resulting in a chilling effect on anyone who might contemplate putting material others might consider off-putting into their games.
Further, we have reached a point in many media where we recognize and tolerate that some works don't merit the same kind of criticism as others. Oh, there might be the occasional dissertation on the amount of actual property damage a car chase in an action movie would actually cause, or treatise on the class implications of Harry Potter, but by and large the works are examined for their ability to entertain, perhaps with nods to strength (or weakness) of the writing, the depth (or shallowness) of the characters, the ability to maintain a brisk pace (or not.) Deep, navel-gazing scrutiny of current "pop" works is usually treated, appropriately in my opinion, as something close to parody. Notably, that doesn't mean that we stop doing more thoughtful examinations of Anna Karenina, or Citizen Kane, or Rite of Spring- but we don't assume that rolling our eyes at the former and condoning the latter means that consumers of literature, film, or music are foregoing the right to have those media treated as serious art.
The Supreme Court decision that declared video games worthy of First Amendment protections isn't even five years old. If the audience for video games is still leery of certain forms of criticism, it's also true that a certain class of criticism refuses to treat the audience of that criticism as anything more than children in need of their superior moral guidance, lest they fall prey to mind-control and juvenile delinquency. If the attitude of that audience is sometimes troubling, so, too, is the attitude of the critic, and no less deserving of measured and thoughtful push-back.