As you may have noticed, in the last year or so I haven't given this space the attention I used to. The reason is quite simple: once I started freelance writing regularly during the week, finding the motivation on Friday to put together something of my own got increasingly difficult (in retrospect, Friday was not the best choice of days) and it became more like "Updated Every Saturday Afternoon" or "Updated Every Other Friday Because I Don't Have It in Me Right Now."
So I've decided that this blog's time is done. Now, notice that I didn't word it as "time to say goodbye." I fully intend to keep writing on my own, I've just got to do it without the strict weekly schedule. Anything I output now needs to be my best, not something quick I threw together at the last minute, and for that I'll need a new space with a less temporally-specific title. (Location of this new blog, the title of it, and what it will look like haven't been determined, but I'll post here when it's up, and on Twitter.)
Being good at something doesn't mean that it comes easy. I agonize over wordings, get hung up on little details, and want to walk away at the first sign of difficulty. For a long time I was also uneasy about seeing my name in print; an uncomfortable spotlight for someone who doesn't like being the center of attention. Writing here was the first step in getting over those problems (though the latter issue hit me again, I'll confess, when I started writing for Tested) and it has helped greatly.
Now I feel ready to do more, to step up my game and (force myself to) write things that show off what I'm capable of. Thank you for reading, for commenting, for finding anything I wrote worth remembering. Stick with me, I promise I've got more to say.*
*A lot of it is still going to be about video games. Sorry.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Friday, December 30, 2011
Since You Ask
Are video games art?
The answer I usually give is "I'm so tired of that question," which some might argue is no answer at all. But I respond that way because long ago I learned an important lesson about questions, and it goes like this:
"The question is not the question, the question is the questioner." In other words, answering a question is about more than simply providing a solution, it involves looking to what motivated it in the first place. "Games as art" has a lot to do with a generational gap, and the passing of creative torches, and no well-reasoned argument can make a dent in such large, emotional movements.
But if you're interested, here's what I think.
Are video games art? Well, let's first recognize that "art" is a word, and, like all words, it's meaning is a fluid, relative thing. You could pull down a dictionary from the shelf and find a listing for it, but dictionaries do not tell us what words *should* mean, they tell us how words are used among current speakers (and as such, they are regularly revised with the linguistic ebb and flow.)
So when you ask if games are "art," I need to know what you mean by that.
Are games a valid form of expression? Yeah, they are.
Can they make you feel things, can they make you cry? Can they move you, change the way you see the world, give you new perspective on the events of your life? I'm here to tell you, on behalf of a generation that grew up with games in our homes, that they can.
And when you look back on your life, can games be an integral element that shaped who you are for the better? Yeah.
And if those things are not art, then what a stupid thing "art" must be. What a meaningless distinction, what a sad, unimportant little idea.
The answer I usually give is "I'm so tired of that question," which some might argue is no answer at all. But I respond that way because long ago I learned an important lesson about questions, and it goes like this:
"The question is not the question, the question is the questioner." In other words, answering a question is about more than simply providing a solution, it involves looking to what motivated it in the first place. "Games as art" has a lot to do with a generational gap, and the passing of creative torches, and no well-reasoned argument can make a dent in such large, emotional movements.
But if you're interested, here's what I think.
Are video games art? Well, let's first recognize that "art" is a word, and, like all words, it's meaning is a fluid, relative thing. You could pull down a dictionary from the shelf and find a listing for it, but dictionaries do not tell us what words *should* mean, they tell us how words are used among current speakers (and as such, they are regularly revised with the linguistic ebb and flow.)
So when you ask if games are "art," I need to know what you mean by that.
Are games a valid form of expression? Yeah, they are.
Can they make you feel things, can they make you cry? Can they move you, change the way you see the world, give you new perspective on the events of your life? I'm here to tell you, on behalf of a generation that grew up with games in our homes, that they can.
And when you look back on your life, can games be an integral element that shaped who you are for the better? Yeah.
And if those things are not art, then what a stupid thing "art" must be. What a meaningless distinction, what a sad, unimportant little idea.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Pandora's Blocks
When you really break it down, wrapping paper represents a kind of psychological torture.
It's a perfect tease: allure and obstruction in a single device. At once, it indicates that this is a gift, something good that was bought with the intent of pleasing, while simultaneously acting as a barrier to that very thing. It inspires intrigue about what the contents could be,and holds the promise of something that will be yours-that is yours actually. By all rights, the tag on the outside secures this object of mystery as your property. You can take it, even carry it with you if you like.
But you can't open it.
If you open it, you're a bad person. To have that thing that's yours before an communally agreed upon time would make someone sad, the same person that chose to do this nice thing for you/force you into this trial of human will. And the icing on this cake, what we can now recognize as some sort of devilish butter cream, is the knowledge that wrapping paper is so easy, and so fun, to remove.*
*And sometimes then there are Legos.
It's a perfect tease: allure and obstruction in a single device. At once, it indicates that this is a gift, something good that was bought with the intent of pleasing, while simultaneously acting as a barrier to that very thing. It inspires intrigue about what the contents could be,and holds the promise of something that will be yours-that is yours actually. By all rights, the tag on the outside secures this object of mystery as your property. You can take it, even carry it with you if you like.
But you can't open it.
If you open it, you're a bad person. To have that thing that's yours before an communally agreed upon time would make someone sad, the same person that chose to do this nice thing for you/force you into this trial of human will. And the icing on this cake, what we can now recognize as some sort of devilish butter cream, is the knowledge that wrapping paper is so easy, and so fun, to remove.*
*And sometimes then there are Legos.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Level of Investment
If you're going to be a gamer, you have to make peace with certain realities.
"I am going to manipulate this piece of plastic so that I can make an imaginary elf man kill imaginary monsters. And I'm choosing to believe that this represents an acceptable use of my leisure time."
This bargain becomes more difficult as you come to understand more about the underlying technology.
"I am going to inefficiently edit a save file using an elaborate visual interface."
But its even worse when the game has no noble hero, and no grand conflict. Games with stories are one thing; people have been getting overly invested in stories for a long time. But in a game like Animal Crossing, or Minecraft, even seasoned virtual puppeteers have difficulty reconciling their choice of hobbies.
"I am going to design and construct an imaginary farm, then meticulously harvest imaginary wheat, so I can then feed it to imaginary chickens* so they'll pretend to lay imaginary eggs. I am going to pretend to do something that is in all ways toil."
*What the hell is wrong with you stupid things? I've built you a huge pen, why do you insist on crowding into one tiny corner?
"I am going to manipulate this piece of plastic so that I can make an imaginary elf man kill imaginary monsters. And I'm choosing to believe that this represents an acceptable use of my leisure time."
This bargain becomes more difficult as you come to understand more about the underlying technology.
"I am going to inefficiently edit a save file using an elaborate visual interface."
But its even worse when the game has no noble hero, and no grand conflict. Games with stories are one thing; people have been getting overly invested in stories for a long time. But in a game like Animal Crossing, or Minecraft, even seasoned virtual puppeteers have difficulty reconciling their choice of hobbies.
"I am going to design and construct an imaginary farm, then meticulously harvest imaginary wheat, so I can then feed it to imaginary chickens* so they'll pretend to lay imaginary eggs. I am going to pretend to do something that is in all ways toil."
*What the hell is wrong with you stupid things? I've built you a huge pen, why do you insist on crowding into one tiny corner?
Friday, December 2, 2011
And
Simple question:
Well, okay, it's actually not a simple question. I'm just setting you up to think of it as a simple question so we can then hold it up to the light and find out whether or not it is so. Course, I probably shouldn't have told you that, since it kinda spoils the whole thing.
Sometimes I over analyze things, and have trouble getting to my point.
*ahem*
What is the world like? (the human world, not the natural world)
An individual's answer to that is a pretty telling marker of his personality. Is the world evil? Is it full of idiots? Is it just fine? Those are all divisive perspectives. But I think it's a mistake to mentally group people by their answer to that question. Many may stand in the same spot, and see the same thing, but more important is what direction led them there. Take, for instance, "The world is bad."
"The world is bad, and there's no hope for anyone."
"The world is bad, and that's why we're going to change it."
"The world is bad, but it'll be better once I'm in charge."
"The world is bad, so I'll make for me and mine a place that isn't."*
Same idea, vastly different implications.
*We might call these Eeyore, Obama, Dr. Horrible, and Malcolm Reynolds.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Cycles
Now that cellphones, and most especially smartphones, have become so common that they seem like a clumsy, halfhearted Borg assimilation plot, the full force of their resulting cultural shift is beginning to crash on the shores of the general public.
The marker that everyone points to is the generation of children, now old enough to understand the mechanisms that drive their world, who cannot grasp how a society might function without each person having constant access to worldwide communication. In time, however, I think you'll find that the more difficult concept to explain is this: there was a time, kids, when purchasing a new phone wasn't a gigantic ordeal.
Three major operating systems, several carriers, and hundreds of phones that range in price from zero dollars on-contract to "we priced it this much so that you'd never think of buying a phone not-on-contract" dollars. And the whole ecosystem is underlined by the (when you stop to think about it) super weird contract phenomenon itself: something like getting to purchase a car for 1/3 the price if you agree to only buy gas from one company for two years.*
So not only is the decision itself difficult, but there's a real sense that you'd better not screw it up-because otherwise you'll spend those two years kicking yourself and watching the great upgrade clock count down once again. Someday we'll mark time by our phone contracts, noting our distance from a big life event by what device we remember checking facebook on while it was happening.
*Don't tell anyone I said that, it might become real.
The marker that everyone points to is the generation of children, now old enough to understand the mechanisms that drive their world, who cannot grasp how a society might function without each person having constant access to worldwide communication. In time, however, I think you'll find that the more difficult concept to explain is this: there was a time, kids, when purchasing a new phone wasn't a gigantic ordeal.
Three major operating systems, several carriers, and hundreds of phones that range in price from zero dollars on-contract to "we priced it this much so that you'd never think of buying a phone not-on-contract" dollars. And the whole ecosystem is underlined by the (when you stop to think about it) super weird contract phenomenon itself: something like getting to purchase a car for 1/3 the price if you agree to only buy gas from one company for two years.*
So not only is the decision itself difficult, but there's a real sense that you'd better not screw it up-because otherwise you'll spend those two years kicking yourself and watching the great upgrade clock count down once again. Someday we'll mark time by our phone contracts, noting our distance from a big life event by what device we remember checking facebook on while it was happening.
*Don't tell anyone I said that, it might become real.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Investments
I should really (read: I probably will never) create a list of the most important things I've read. Not the Bible, the Declaration of Independence, or anything "important" in a grand way, but the things that have stuck with me personally, popping up in my thoughts again and again, perhaps having a lasting impression on the way I think.
A surprising number of these writings will probably be about video games. Like this one!
In case you don't feel like investigating the whole thing, here's the short version. Among gamers, there's a subset that are enthusiasts for flight sims: highly accurate simulations of actual aircraft. And within that community, there's another subset that simulate air traffic controllers, using headsets to keep virtual pilots from crashing into one another. I should also mention that the air traffic software isn't a commercial product, but a fan-developed free add-on.
If the idea of people simulating another person's in-no-way-glamorous job in their leisure time sounds crazy*, then allow me to correct you: it actually isn't. It only sounds crazy because it's probably not you, or anyone you know. It is a sliver of a sliver of a chunk of society, but it's there. And that's why the post has stuck with me, it's a great example of how very broad the range of human experience is.
*I could never do this without insisting on using the crazy phonetic alphabet from the Hot Shots movies.
A surprising number of these writings will probably be about video games. Like this one!
In case you don't feel like investigating the whole thing, here's the short version. Among gamers, there's a subset that are enthusiasts for flight sims: highly accurate simulations of actual aircraft. And within that community, there's another subset that simulate air traffic controllers, using headsets to keep virtual pilots from crashing into one another. I should also mention that the air traffic software isn't a commercial product, but a fan-developed free add-on.
If the idea of people simulating another person's in-no-way-glamorous job in their leisure time sounds crazy*, then allow me to correct you: it actually isn't. It only sounds crazy because it's probably not you, or anyone you know. It is a sliver of a sliver of a chunk of society, but it's there. And that's why the post has stuck with me, it's a great example of how very broad the range of human experience is.
*I could never do this without insisting on using the crazy phonetic alphabet from the Hot Shots movies.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I don't know what you just said
For some reason, I've been thinking about Batman a lot lately.
Despite Christopher Nolan's best efforts to bring that universe into something resembling reality, there's no doubt that the villains are pretty ridiculous. However, as with Tolkien's Mt. Doom, those characters are now so well known that no one seems to notice how fairly stupid they are. I'll let you mentally run through the roster on your own, but here's a preview: one of them is a PENGUIN MAN.*
That being said, Batman's little circus of evil weirdos has taught me a lot about what makes a good villain. In terms of storytelling, the purpose of an enemy is to reveal the hero-to challenge the champion in interesting ways, force him to make interesting choices. The way you equip a good enemy to do that is by making him a foil for some virtue of the hero.
Riddler - Intellectual foil
Catwoman - Physical/Stealthy foil
Mr. Freeze - Technological foil
Scarecrow - Foil for Batman's use of fear
Joker - Foil for Batman's will, his capacity for taking actions that other people don't.
These enemies all do something that Batman does, but usually better, and that keeps Batman's abilities from seeming unstoppable, while also forcing him to use the rest of his arsenal in new ways.
*And another one is a ventriloquist. Yeah.
Despite Christopher Nolan's best efforts to bring that universe into something resembling reality, there's no doubt that the villains are pretty ridiculous. However, as with Tolkien's Mt. Doom, those characters are now so well known that no one seems to notice how fairly stupid they are. I'll let you mentally run through the roster on your own, but here's a preview: one of them is a PENGUIN MAN.*
That being said, Batman's little circus of evil weirdos has taught me a lot about what makes a good villain. In terms of storytelling, the purpose of an enemy is to reveal the hero-to challenge the champion in interesting ways, force him to make interesting choices. The way you equip a good enemy to do that is by making him a foil for some virtue of the hero.
Riddler - Intellectual foil
Catwoman - Physical/Stealthy foil
Mr. Freeze - Technological foil
Scarecrow - Foil for Batman's use of fear
Joker - Foil for Batman's will, his capacity for taking actions that other people don't.
These enemies all do something that Batman does, but usually better, and that keeps Batman's abilities from seeming unstoppable, while also forcing him to use the rest of his arsenal in new ways.
*And another one is a ventriloquist. Yeah.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Pop Rally
Does it seem weird to anyone else that marching bands commonly play "Paint It Black" at sporting events? Isn't that song, which seems to be about consuming depression following the death of a lover, at an odd juxtaposition with "The Hey Song"*?
"I look inside myself and see my heart is black"
Ummmm, Go Team?!
"No colors anymore I want them to turn black"
Woo, Touchdown!
I guess you could argue the same about "The Imperial March" (aka, Darth Vader's theme), but that at least has an ominous, threatening vibe you might want to instill in your opponent. "Paint It Black" isn't threatening, though, so unless your goal is to really bum the other side out I don't get it. Seems like when you're trying to rally a crowd, a song commonly used as the backdrop to Vietnam War movies shouldn't be your first choice.
*Fun fact: Some part of your mind is always listening to "The Hey Song," over and over.
"I look inside myself and see my heart is black"
Ummmm, Go Team?!
"No colors anymore I want them to turn black"
Woo, Touchdown!
I guess you could argue the same about "The Imperial March" (aka, Darth Vader's theme), but that at least has an ominous, threatening vibe you might want to instill in your opponent. "Paint It Black" isn't threatening, though, so unless your goal is to really bum the other side out I don't get it. Seems like when you're trying to rally a crowd, a song commonly used as the backdrop to Vietnam War movies shouldn't be your first choice.
*Fun fact: Some part of your mind is always listening to "The Hey Song," over and over.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Circular Arguments
I know you like candles. I like candles too. For their time they were a very effective technology that served us well. And I know that the prospect of light bulbs seems scary to you, and you don't trust new-fangled, high-tech solutions to problems you thought were already solved.
But just listen to me for a second.
I've been following this light bulb thing for a while, and using them for some time. So I'm in a good position to say that there's something to it all. And sooner or later, you're going to have to accept that they are better. And no matter how many light-bulb drawbacks you produce or how many arguments you make for the superiority of candles, it won't make a bit of difference.
I'm not saying your candles are going away completely, mind you. They certainly won't be our first choice for lighting needs, but they'll retain a certain place in our society. But if you really were to follow through on what you're saying now-that you'll never use light bulbs and only stick to candles-you're going to look like a crazy person in the long run. And that'll be appropriate, because you will be a crazy person.
Think of it this way. Used to we transported goods with wagons and horses. Then someone came up with railroads. And I'm sure that there was a certain amount of resistance to that too, from people who pointed out the expense of laying all that rail, how they didn't need to ship that fast, how cold and unromantic the rail cars were compared to a good, old fashioned wagon. But looking back, all that seems silly now. And it's clear that those detractors were fueled almost entirely by a fear of change.
So horde your candles if you want.* I'll won't even laugh when you grumpily accept the future, and enjoy it.
*Actually that's a good idea. Once they become a quaint anachronism the price will skyrocket, so long as you can make them smell like baked goods.
But just listen to me for a second.
I've been following this light bulb thing for a while, and using them for some time. So I'm in a good position to say that there's something to it all. And sooner or later, you're going to have to accept that they are better. And no matter how many light-bulb drawbacks you produce or how many arguments you make for the superiority of candles, it won't make a bit of difference.
I'm not saying your candles are going away completely, mind you. They certainly won't be our first choice for lighting needs, but they'll retain a certain place in our society. But if you really were to follow through on what you're saying now-that you'll never use light bulbs and only stick to candles-you're going to look like a crazy person in the long run. And that'll be appropriate, because you will be a crazy person.
Think of it this way. Used to we transported goods with wagons and horses. Then someone came up with railroads. And I'm sure that there was a certain amount of resistance to that too, from people who pointed out the expense of laying all that rail, how they didn't need to ship that fast, how cold and unromantic the rail cars were compared to a good, old fashioned wagon. But looking back, all that seems silly now. And it's clear that those detractors were fueled almost entirely by a fear of change.
So horde your candles if you want.* I'll won't even laugh when you grumpily accept the future, and enjoy it.
*Actually that's a good idea. Once they become a quaint anachronism the price will skyrocket, so long as you can make them smell like baked goods.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Class Struggle
When you play games that let you choose your class (knight, thief, wizard, etc.), it ends up being a sort of personality test. Melee characters tend to be the more aggressive, sports loving types. Clever people who enjoy a more technical role go the wizarding route. Those with a strong protective instinct often role Healer classes.
It's not that cut-and-dry, mind you, human being simply don't sort that cleanly.* But there's definitely something revealing about it. The problem for a serious gamer is that, over time, you eventually get tired of the kind of class you usually play, and start to branch out.
At least, I think that's all it is.
But it could also be a signal of personality change. As life forces you into new roles, perhaps your self shifts a bit, and your class choice moves accordingly. If that sounds like an interesting idea, let me assure you that it isn't. It's terrifying. What if I wake up one day, and all I want to do is swing a sword at a guy? What if I don't want to sit back inflicting status ailments with my bow, or cast a buff on my teammates? *shudder*
*Except thieves and rogues. They are always troublemakers.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Demolition
Water is really a very precious resource. Especially clean, fresh water for drinking. It's an essential component of all life that we know of, and the areas where it chooses to flow have etched out the mapping of our existence on this planet.
The idea of a machine that seems to produce drinkable water infinitely, at no cost to the drinker, is amazing. It's a miracle. A device like that would, outside of our modern technological feats, be a thing of incredible value. We should all be in awe that it exists.
So why, cat, do you insist on destroying it?
Why does this flowing river of life so offend you? Why can't you just get up, take your morning drink, then sit back and think, "Holy crap, that's awesome"? Why do you insist instead on pushing the fountain around so the water sloshes out*, then pawing at the little dome of clear, delicious water until it's set at some useless angle? What about being so well provided for angers you so much?
How about a little gratitude?
*Plus you hate getting wet, why would you want water spilling out all over the place?
The idea of a machine that seems to produce drinkable water infinitely, at no cost to the drinker, is amazing. It's a miracle. A device like that would, outside of our modern technological feats, be a thing of incredible value. We should all be in awe that it exists.
So why, cat, do you insist on destroying it?
Why does this flowing river of life so offend you? Why can't you just get up, take your morning drink, then sit back and think, "Holy crap, that's awesome"? Why do you insist instead on pushing the fountain around so the water sloshes out*, then pawing at the little dome of clear, delicious water until it's set at some useless angle? What about being so well provided for angers you so much?
How about a little gratitude?
*Plus you hate getting wet, why would you want water spilling out all over the place?
Friday, October 7, 2011
Strapped
The reality is that Velcro makes a lot of sense.
As a kid, Velcro shoes were a revelation. No more hassles of tying laces, then having to stop everything you're doing to tie them again. And for people like me, who prefer their shoes pretty snug, Velcro provided a highly adjustable fit that didn't get annoyingly looser as the day wore on. It was, in all ways, superior to the rather clumsy method of interweaving a thin piece of cord through tiny, pre-made holes and knotting them together at the end.
But once you become an adult, you can't wear Velcro anymore, not unless you're very old, or in some way physically or mentally challenged, or that weird guy who wears Velcro shoes all the time. And why? No one knows. It's that way because it's that way. It's as though our society required a daily dexterity test, and if you can't pass it, that fact needs to be constantly advertised on your feet.
Except for sandals. There Velcro is okay, even though sandals have always used straps and buckles and lots of other perfectly good non-lace mechanisms. Let's toss those out and use Velcro. But on anything else, unacceptable.*
*Go to an athletic shoe store. Look at what's on the shelf. Is Velcro going to make them really look that much stupider?
As a kid, Velcro shoes were a revelation. No more hassles of tying laces, then having to stop everything you're doing to tie them again. And for people like me, who prefer their shoes pretty snug, Velcro provided a highly adjustable fit that didn't get annoyingly looser as the day wore on. It was, in all ways, superior to the rather clumsy method of interweaving a thin piece of cord through tiny, pre-made holes and knotting them together at the end.
But once you become an adult, you can't wear Velcro anymore, not unless you're very old, or in some way physically or mentally challenged, or that weird guy who wears Velcro shoes all the time. And why? No one knows. It's that way because it's that way. It's as though our society required a daily dexterity test, and if you can't pass it, that fact needs to be constantly advertised on your feet.
Except for sandals. There Velcro is okay, even though sandals have always used straps and buckles and lots of other perfectly good non-lace mechanisms. Let's toss those out and use Velcro. But on anything else, unacceptable.*
*Go to an athletic shoe store. Look at what's on the shelf. Is Velcro going to make them really look that much stupider?
Friday, September 30, 2011
Phoenix Downs and Phantom Trains
Video games have changed over the years, and if you're not a regular follower of the medium you may have missed the subtle shifts at work. Let me explain it to you.
Modern video games: "Hey what's up! Okay, here's how the controller works, here's what this button does, now this one, now those two together. Did you die? It's okay, I saved for you when you entered the room!"
Old video games: Go **** yourself.
You notice the difference when a more casual gamer (aka, normal person) attempts to play . . . say Chrono Trigger, or Final Fantasy VII. You hear a lot of "So I have to do all that again?" and "How was I supposed to know that?"
And the answer is that, yes, you have to do all that again. And you were supposed to know that because the designers just assumed you were familiar with the mechanics of this genre—or that you'd get desperate enough to look through the manual*, which was a larger part of the experience in those days.
The problem for those of us who've been playing for a while is that we don't fully trust the modern design. We've been trained to hunt for that next save point (see kids, before there was autosaving you only got to save your game at certain points. If a boss battle left your party a wreck, you healed up afterwards, immediately. Otherwise, you might get randomly attacked in the 5 steps to the save point, die, and tear your controller in half.**) and now the idea of turning off the system without selecting a save slot is like trusting a random person to deposit your paycheck.
*And sometimes you'd rent a game, and in that section at the back for "notes" that no one used some guy would have copied down every level skip code. And you knew that, wherever that guy was, he was awesome.
**That was FF7, by the way, and the boss was Alexander.
Modern video games: "Hey what's up! Okay, here's how the controller works, here's what this button does, now this one, now those two together. Did you die? It's okay, I saved for you when you entered the room!"
Old video games: Go **** yourself.
You notice the difference when a more casual gamer (aka, normal person) attempts to play . . . say Chrono Trigger, or Final Fantasy VII. You hear a lot of "So I have to do all that again?" and "How was I supposed to know that?"
And the answer is that, yes, you have to do all that again. And you were supposed to know that because the designers just assumed you were familiar with the mechanics of this genre—or that you'd get desperate enough to look through the manual*, which was a larger part of the experience in those days.
The problem for those of us who've been playing for a while is that we don't fully trust the modern design. We've been trained to hunt for that next save point (see kids, before there was autosaving you only got to save your game at certain points. If a boss battle left your party a wreck, you healed up afterwards, immediately. Otherwise, you might get randomly attacked in the 5 steps to the save point, die, and tear your controller in half.**) and now the idea of turning off the system without selecting a save slot is like trusting a random person to deposit your paycheck.
*And sometimes you'd rent a game, and in that section at the back for "notes" that no one used some guy would have copied down every level skip code. And you knew that, wherever that guy was, he was awesome.
**That was FF7, by the way, and the boss was Alexander.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
History Lesson
Far be it from me to grumble about "these kids today," or their lack of understanding about . . . whatever. I don't think those kinds of criticisms are worth much, other than to highlight the speaker's level of irrelevance.
But it's come to my attention that there's an entire generation who doesn't know about WinAmp.*
Before there was an iTunes to complain about, there was exactly one music player that anyone cared about, and it was called WinAmp. It was a light, versatile piece of software that simply did what it was supposed to.
Like the honey badger, WinAmp does not give a ****. Winamp does not manage your collection of music, scan your hard drive for music, or do anything else with your music-unless you tell it to. You can run multiple instances of WinAmp at the same time. You can play different songs on those instances all at once. I mean I don't know why you'd want to, but WinAmp doesn't make the assumption that you wouldn't.
And it's still there. Even though it's been largely forgotten, WinAmp is still around. Try it. You might just find that there's comfort in a tool you can mold, rather than one that molds you.
*Also, Apple did not invent the mp3 player, or even the hard drive based mp3 player. I was using one of these when you were putting a cushion under your CD player.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Ready When You Are
I understand why getting television shows through the Internet is so difficult.
There are a lot of parties involved: ones that make content, ones that deliver it, ones that attach their dreaded advertising onto it. And all of them stand firmly on a groundwork of laws, business models, and methods that weren't designed with the Internet in mind.
But for a moment, TV execs, please consider how frustrating the whole thing is to me as a consumer.
I like some of your products. They're good. I enjoy them, and I'd like to purchase them from you. And you won't let me. Oh I know you've got episodes on Amazon and iTunes and such, but that's not good enough. Selling me the product I want with conditions on exactly how I can get it is not what I want. It's like selling me a piece of cake, but only letting me eat it if I wear handcuffs. And I know you've got ad-supported shows on your website and Hulu, but that's . . . let's see . . . that's kinda like spitting on the cake. And that's gross. What a terrible bakery you run.
Just let me buy my episodes, commercial and DRM-free, and watch them. Is that so hard? Doesn't it tell you something is drastically wrong with your industry that you have a customer in your shop, money in hand, ready to buy a product that you make, and you're completely incapable of selling it to him?*
The terrible reality is that pirates understand your audience, and the future of your industry, much better than you do.
*In fairness, this is true at a number of physical stores as well.
There are a lot of parties involved: ones that make content, ones that deliver it, ones that attach their dreaded advertising onto it. And all of them stand firmly on a groundwork of laws, business models, and methods that weren't designed with the Internet in mind.
But for a moment, TV execs, please consider how frustrating the whole thing is to me as a consumer.
I like some of your products. They're good. I enjoy them, and I'd like to purchase them from you. And you won't let me. Oh I know you've got episodes on Amazon and iTunes and such, but that's not good enough. Selling me the product I want with conditions on exactly how I can get it is not what I want. It's like selling me a piece of cake, but only letting me eat it if I wear handcuffs. And I know you've got ad-supported shows on your website and Hulu, but that's . . . let's see . . . that's kinda like spitting on the cake. And that's gross. What a terrible bakery you run.
Just let me buy my episodes, commercial and DRM-free, and watch them. Is that so hard? Doesn't it tell you something is drastically wrong with your industry that you have a customer in your shop, money in hand, ready to buy a product that you make, and you're completely incapable of selling it to him?*
The terrible reality is that pirates understand your audience, and the future of your industry, much better than you do.
*In fairness, this is true at a number of physical stores as well.
Friday, September 9, 2011
This post is worth8.75/10
At some point I stopped reading reviews, for anything. Actually that's not exactly accurate. I stopped reading anything in a review except the last paragraph. That golden bit of text is where most any author give me what I want: a quick summary of what he thought, and whether he feels this thing is worth my time.
I realize this policy might be an affront to people who write reviews for a living, and consider them valuable, but I stand by it. The fact is, as a form of communication I think reviewing is incredibly weird for a couple of reasons.
1. Experience is inherently a partnership between the viewer and the viewed (a bad way to phrase it, since there are usually more senses involved, but you get my meaning). As a separate entity from myself, you can't infer much at all about my reaction to the same thing. It'd be like if you tried on clothes for me, or (when I was single) dated a girl on my behalf—very little of what you'd find would have any relevance to my experience.
2. Most anything that gets reviewed I can investigate on my own for a nominal fee. I can try electronics out at a store, rent movies or see them in the theater for an (arguably) small price. Video games do have such a high cost that a bad review might save me a considerable amount, but that's why I use Gamefly and buy PC games on the cheap.
In fairness, there are things that a good reviewer can do:
-Provide perspective from a very knowledgeable person who can evaluate a product against its competitors, or a book/movie/game in terms of his experience with the medium
-Offer a discussion of a thing's merits, so that I think about it in a different way or notice elements that I might otherwise miss.
But both of those benefits are more useful after I've had direct experience, not before. They are elements of academic analysis, not a purchase recommendation.
So what do I need before direct experience? I need to know where to invest my time. Don't tell me what's "good" and "bad." Tell me what's interesting and boring. Direct me toward things worth looking into, give me enough data to recognize something that's not. And by all means keep putting it in the last paragraph, its as good a place as any.*
*Don't bother saying that you skipped to the last paragraph of this post, I've beaten you to it.
I realize this policy might be an affront to people who write reviews for a living, and consider them valuable, but I stand by it. The fact is, as a form of communication I think reviewing is incredibly weird for a couple of reasons.
1. Experience is inherently a partnership between the viewer and the viewed (a bad way to phrase it, since there are usually more senses involved, but you get my meaning). As a separate entity from myself, you can't infer much at all about my reaction to the same thing. It'd be like if you tried on clothes for me, or (when I was single) dated a girl on my behalf—very little of what you'd find would have any relevance to my experience.
2. Most anything that gets reviewed I can investigate on my own for a nominal fee. I can try electronics out at a store, rent movies or see them in the theater for an (arguably) small price. Video games do have such a high cost that a bad review might save me a considerable amount, but that's why I use Gamefly and buy PC games on the cheap.
In fairness, there are things that a good reviewer can do:
-Provide perspective from a very knowledgeable person who can evaluate a product against its competitors, or a book/movie/game in terms of his experience with the medium
-Offer a discussion of a thing's merits, so that I think about it in a different way or notice elements that I might otherwise miss.
But both of those benefits are more useful after I've had direct experience, not before. They are elements of academic analysis, not a purchase recommendation.
So what do I need before direct experience? I need to know where to invest my time. Don't tell me what's "good" and "bad." Tell me what's interesting and boring. Direct me toward things worth looking into, give me enough data to recognize something that's not. And by all means keep putting it in the last paragraph, its as good a place as any.*
*Don't bother saying that you skipped to the last paragraph of this post, I've beaten you to it.
Friday, September 2, 2011
This is a joke. Please don't try it.
For hundreds of years, people have been trying to lose weight, but no one has ever found a way to do it!
Now, thanks to the marvels of modern science combined with ancient Chinese weight loss secrets, at last you can get the body you want. Immediately! Like, tomorrow!
How? Simple! BurnFlex Turbo 44x*!
BurnFlex Turbo 44x is the ultimate and only way to strengthen your abs, arms, legs, ears, face and kneecaps all while becoming more attractive! The key to BurnFlex Turbo 44x is it's asymmetrical power design that shocks your body into destroying itself, taking the ugly fat along with it!
A BurnFlex Turbo 44x workout does it all. First, push-ups until you collapse, then a run in 90 degree sunlight until you're severely dehydrated. Follow that up by doing more push-ups with your hands in vats of ice water, and then eat a handful of salt! That'll teach your body to be fat!
Once you're done, the dieting takes care of itself, since your digestive system will now be shocked into "health mode," and be unable to process anything at all. It's losing weight the natural way!
*Brought to you by PowerSauce.
Now, thanks to the marvels of modern science combined with ancient Chinese weight loss secrets, at last you can get the body you want. Immediately! Like, tomorrow!
How? Simple! BurnFlex Turbo 44x*!
BurnFlex Turbo 44x is the ultimate and only way to strengthen your abs, arms, legs, ears, face and kneecaps all while becoming more attractive! The key to BurnFlex Turbo 44x is it's asymmetrical power design that shocks your body into destroying itself, taking the ugly fat along with it!
A BurnFlex Turbo 44x workout does it all. First, push-ups until you collapse, then a run in 90 degree sunlight until you're severely dehydrated. Follow that up by doing more push-ups with your hands in vats of ice water, and then eat a handful of salt! That'll teach your body to be fat!
Once you're done, the dieting takes care of itself, since your digestive system will now be shocked into "health mode," and be unable to process anything at all. It's losing weight the natural way!
*Brought to you by PowerSauce.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Nevermind.
I always think, "I'll get my writing done at the airport." But the problem is that, by the time I get there, my entire day has been spent preparing for, thinking about, or getting to that place.* So I'll get this post written, all right, but it's going to be about exactly one thing: airports. My brain is fully flooded with that topic.
What's with the people that don't make it to the flight? The ones they call out at the terminal? It's not like they forgot, they must have checked in or no one would bother asking for them repeatedly. Of course, I have missed a flight before in one of the most stressful travel experiences of my life, so I know it can happen. But sometimes they read off like ten names. And those names are never "Gary Jones" or anything like that, but always something just a little weird, so that you wonder if it's actually an obscure Harry Potter character.
I know Arturias Lovewell and Elexia Roycroft are probably stuck at security after hitting a lot of traffic, but I like to think they simply got to the gate, looked down at their boarding pass, and decided to go bowling instead.
*Except of course when I walk through the terminal, where I make a mental game of analyzing the incredible cross section of human life before me. "That guy seems like a jerk. That lady's hair is crazy! Hey mister business-y man, what's been going on with your smartphone in the last two minutes?"
Friday, August 19, 2011
Two meters wide
Let me assure you, your car is actually a quite capable machine. It was likely designed by smart people, and tested extensively before going to market. Moreover, the paved road you're on and currently favorable weather conditions are both quite conducive to driving.
In short, there's very little reason, person-in-front-of-me, that your simple right hand turn would necessitate slowing down to a near stop, swinging out into the left lane, and hooking back as though you were squeezing a firetruck into a one-car garage.
Trust me, the turning radius of your Civic can handle getting into the Kroger parking lot. I'm quite confident on this point. Just turn the wheel, you'll be fine.
All though I would like to ask something. If you're taking all that trouble to make the turn, why not use your turn signal too? If you misjudged the angle of attack, at worst you'd wind up with a little scrape on your bumper. But the signal drastically reduces the likely hood that someone won't anticipate your sudden deceleration and crash violently into the back of your car.
Thanks,
Sam
In short, there's very little reason, person-in-front-of-me, that your simple right hand turn would necessitate slowing down to a near stop, swinging out into the left lane, and hooking back as though you were squeezing a firetruck into a one-car garage.
Trust me, the turning radius of your Civic can handle getting into the Kroger parking lot. I'm quite confident on this point. Just turn the wheel, you'll be fine.
All though I would like to ask something. If you're taking all that trouble to make the turn, why not use your turn signal too? If you misjudged the angle of attack, at worst you'd wind up with a little scrape on your bumper. But the signal drastically reduces the likely hood that someone won't anticipate your sudden deceleration and crash violently into the back of your car.
Thanks,
Sam
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