I am a cautious optimist. I believe that ten years from now the world will be a more stable place. In my opinion, the only unpredictable event in the past decade was the attack on the World Trade Center. Unfortunately, this one event changed the world as we (Americans) know it. Were it not for that, the Department of Homeland Security would not exist, John Kerry would have recently won his second election (even though I like Obama better), and our economy would not be stretched to its limit by a meaningless war.
The world ten years from now is bound to be affected by the events of September 11th as well. With any luck, the next few years will be remembered as a time of rectifying some terrible mistakes. The war in Iraq will finally end, and the War on Terror will take on a more metaphorical tone as have all the War on [Idea]s before it. I also believe the economy will bottom out, but with time, effort, and good ideas will recover. In other words, the country I was born in will come back to us, with maybe a bit more airport security, which never bothered me so much anyway. Again, I’m an optimist, and Obama’s election is a direct cause of a lot of that. I truly believe that mankind has grown past being a race of slack-jawed, knuckle-dragging savages, and I find that being continually disappointed is more tolerable than abandoning this belief.
As for myself, my future has always been determined one step at a time. The SDE program at UB is the first long-term goal I’ve set for myself in my 5-year college career. But as it stands now, in ten years I hope to be found good enough and lucky enough to be writing for some wildly successful game company. I will be working on my masterpiece, something deeply socially introspective in ways that most people don’t like to think about. After that, I plan on kicking back and accepting the first-ever Nobel Prize for Literature given to a video game script. Ok, maybe that’s unrealistic. I’d take a Pulitzer.
I will be forcing people to communicate with me cryptographically, at least online. I will either have found someone special or resign myself to being a cat lady. I will be living in the city or at least very close to one. I’ll have gotten laser eye surgery as soon as I’m convinced it won’t wreck my night vision. I’ll be driving a hybrid car (maybe hydrogen-cell, keeping my fingers crossed). I, maybe foolishly, believe that my life will always be my own, because I have the intelligence and the skills to make it that way, and the stubbornness to refuse any other way.
I realize these predictions are all fairly mundane. The apocalypse is not coming in 2012, Coca Cola’s private army (yes, they do have one) will not take over the world, we won’t be eating food in pill form or willing objects into existence. This is because I think that the world resists change. It takes a very long lever and a well-placed fulcrum to move it, and even when that happens, the world generally settles back where it was, strikes some sort of balance. There are a lot of forces in play: political, technological, economic, social, etc. But all people are fundamentally driven by a desire for stability. Like the “return to normalcy” of the 50s, in the next ten years people will find themselves getting sick of the way things are heading, scrap the unstable aspects and revert to a (relatively) simpler existence.
The interesting decade will be the one following. If the next decade is analogous to the 50s, then the 2020s will be the decade of social reform. That is when I believe a lot of today’s issues will be actively addressed. Global warming will be causing enough deaths that it can no longer be ignored. Privacy rights as related to technology will come to a head after the blood-borne iPod Yocto unwittingly creates a new STD—one that plays every song you’ve ever hated directly into your brain, commonly diagnosed as Nickelbackitis. Genetic engineering, especially in agriculture, will become much more regulated and standardized. Viable renewable energy sources will finally be implemented on a large scale, gradually phasing out coal and oil.
Once again, perhaps I’m being too optimistic. However, I simply cannot fathom a world that continues for too long in its current downward trend. I honestly believe that mankind will not survive the 21st century if we do not abandon fossil fuels, at the very least, and soon. That is why I have no choice but to believe that the next two decades are going to be years of recovery and progress. Barring, say, a terrorist attack on the Bay Bridge.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
They're Reading This
This is going to be a hard journal to write, since at no point during this novel was I not thinking something. The first 75 pages of this book were intense—really intense—a trend that continued for another 200 pages (I didn’t enjoy the ending). I’m not sure I’ve ever read a book that made me so consistently angry, depressed, and generally amazed. It’s easy to tell that “Little Brother” is a young adults’ novel from the characters, the story arc, and the general writing style. However, Doctorow expertly infuses it with an incredible number of profound ideas and startling information. So expertly, in fact, a dissenting view could easily categorize his work as propaganda or subliminal messaging. I, however, am not a dissenting view.
There was very little that actually surprised me, which is surprising in its own way. I understand how every element of the story could happen (except the romance. That was unnecessary, but I realize he was writing for teenagers. Which doesn’t make reading about 17-year-old sex any less awkward). I’m not sure if any of the technology in the book doesn’t already exist; only gait-detectors and WiFinders were new concepts to me, and even gait-detectors seem plausible. It even makes sense that game consoles will be free in the near future; all the money is in selling the games. I just hope this means the Xbox 360 will go under $200 in the very immediate future. More frighteningly, I had no problem believing in a world where the CIA, NSA, DHS, or whatever other iteration of the same institution could do that. I haven’t been living under a rock for the past 6 years; I know that kidnapping, torture, and suspension of rights is pretty much par for the course these days.
Which brings us to how very, very much this book made me absolutely furious. It has probably become clear by now that I enjoy a good debate, but even these have to follow certain rules to be valid (not from a legal or ethical standpoint, either, just logically). First, it is impossible to prove a negative. Second, an argument is invalid if there exists no situation in which it would be wrong. The first is one of the foundations of our judicial system: innocent until proven guilty, not vice versa. “Prove to me you are not a terrorist” is an impossible argument, which is why in a court of law it is the duty of the state to prove you are a terrorist. This directly leads into the second rhetorical issue in the book: the flaw of infallibility. “Yes” cannot be the answer to every question. If you find yourself giving the same answer to every question, you need to seriously reconsider how you look at the world.
“What do you think about foreign policy?”
“9/11.”
“What do you think about the sovereignty of the Constitution?”
“9/11.”
“What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
“9/11.”
Most frightening of all, to me, is how perfectly intelligent, well-meaning people can become absolute mirrors to these fundamentally flawed philosophies. In fact, halfway through reading the book I started expounding upon a lot of the more expository ideas in “Little Brother” to some of my friends, and was unequivocally astounded by their reactions. I could have sworn they were quoting Drew Yallow. And I will admit that it is at times very hard to put into words the value of privacy over safety, having unquestioningly accepted the former over the latter for so long. L’espirit d’escalier particularly applies in these situations.
This of course brings us to the other predominant emotion present in “Little Brother”: depression. In all the conversations I had with my friends “They can’t do that! They aren’t allowed to keep track of where we are and what we do!” is always trumped by “But they are doing it. And if I have to walk through a metal detector so they can arrest the guy behind me, what’s the big deal?” Faced with this kind of status-quo cultural and intellectual hibernation, I can’t help but feel depressed.
Even just writing about the I-don’t-have-anything-to-hide mentality makes my blood boil. Doctorow makes it clear that there is a difference between something shameful or illegal and something private. And yes, I would let serial murderers go free if I could be assured I got the privacy I expect. If the system can’t catch the serial murderer with due process, then that’s the system’s fault, not mine, and I shouldn’t be punished for it. Of course, if the system fails on too regular a basis, then that needs to be changed too. It’s all about basic utilitarian philosophy—the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Under no circumstance do universal screenings accomplish that, as proved by Doctorow’s explanation of the false positive paradox.
All this being said, I enjoyed three quarters of the book, even if I had to put it down several times to regain my composure. I learned a lot of things from it, a lot of things were put into perspective, and a lot of ideas were put to me in new ways. Of course, many of the claims in the book should be taken with a grain of salt, and bear further investigation. However, I am proud to say that after further investigation, I now have the capability to encrypt my IMs (even if no one I talk to does), and am working on encrypting my e-mails. I’ll post my public key once I get everything working.
There was very little that actually surprised me, which is surprising in its own way. I understand how every element of the story could happen (except the romance. That was unnecessary, but I realize he was writing for teenagers. Which doesn’t make reading about 17-year-old sex any less awkward). I’m not sure if any of the technology in the book doesn’t already exist; only gait-detectors and WiFinders were new concepts to me, and even gait-detectors seem plausible. It even makes sense that game consoles will be free in the near future; all the money is in selling the games. I just hope this means the Xbox 360 will go under $200 in the very immediate future. More frighteningly, I had no problem believing in a world where the CIA, NSA, DHS, or whatever other iteration of the same institution could do that. I haven’t been living under a rock for the past 6 years; I know that kidnapping, torture, and suspension of rights is pretty much par for the course these days.
Which brings us to how very, very much this book made me absolutely furious. It has probably become clear by now that I enjoy a good debate, but even these have to follow certain rules to be valid (not from a legal or ethical standpoint, either, just logically). First, it is impossible to prove a negative. Second, an argument is invalid if there exists no situation in which it would be wrong. The first is one of the foundations of our judicial system: innocent until proven guilty, not vice versa. “Prove to me you are not a terrorist” is an impossible argument, which is why in a court of law it is the duty of the state to prove you are a terrorist. This directly leads into the second rhetorical issue in the book: the flaw of infallibility. “Yes” cannot be the answer to every question. If you find yourself giving the same answer to every question, you need to seriously reconsider how you look at the world.
“What do you think about foreign policy?”
“9/11.”
“What do you think about the sovereignty of the Constitution?”
“9/11.”
“What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
“9/11.”
Most frightening of all, to me, is how perfectly intelligent, well-meaning people can become absolute mirrors to these fundamentally flawed philosophies. In fact, halfway through reading the book I started expounding upon a lot of the more expository ideas in “Little Brother” to some of my friends, and was unequivocally astounded by their reactions. I could have sworn they were quoting Drew Yallow. And I will admit that it is at times very hard to put into words the value of privacy over safety, having unquestioningly accepted the former over the latter for so long. L’espirit d’escalier particularly applies in these situations.
This of course brings us to the other predominant emotion present in “Little Brother”: depression. In all the conversations I had with my friends “They can’t do that! They aren’t allowed to keep track of where we are and what we do!” is always trumped by “But they are doing it. And if I have to walk through a metal detector so they can arrest the guy behind me, what’s the big deal?” Faced with this kind of status-quo cultural and intellectual hibernation, I can’t help but feel depressed.
Even just writing about the I-don’t-have-anything-to-hide mentality makes my blood boil. Doctorow makes it clear that there is a difference between something shameful or illegal and something private. And yes, I would let serial murderers go free if I could be assured I got the privacy I expect. If the system can’t catch the serial murderer with due process, then that’s the system’s fault, not mine, and I shouldn’t be punished for it. Of course, if the system fails on too regular a basis, then that needs to be changed too. It’s all about basic utilitarian philosophy—the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Under no circumstance do universal screenings accomplish that, as proved by Doctorow’s explanation of the false positive paradox.
All this being said, I enjoyed three quarters of the book, even if I had to put it down several times to regain my composure. I learned a lot of things from it, a lot of things were put into perspective, and a lot of ideas were put to me in new ways. Of course, many of the claims in the book should be taken with a grain of salt, and bear further investigation. However, I am proud to say that after further investigation, I now have the capability to encrypt my IMs (even if no one I talk to does), and am working on encrypting my e-mails. I’ll post my public key once I get everything working.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Interactivity in MMOs
Interactivity is my single biggest complaint about the entire theory of MMOs. Games have a hard enough time making themselves a legitimate art without every hormone-crazed 12-year-old on the planet testing out newly-discovered profanities. While I believe wholeheartedly in freedom of speech, I also reserve the right to consider the speaker an absolute moron. That is why we have implicit rules, cultural norms, and unwritten taboos in the real world to govern how we behave. In this paper I will react to the questions posed in the assignment, namely, how MMOs differ from Times Square and how Lynn Hershman is…wrong.
Having been to Times Square (like, oh, maybe half a dozen other people in history), I can tell you that it is a mixed experience. On the one hand, I find it deeply calming. The sea of people seems something of a return to the primordial ooze, only in large scale. On the other hand, it’s dirty and loud and there are people with funny accents yelling at you because you just called the primordial ooze calming, what’s wrong with you? But it all seems to me to be an ordered chaos; everything that happens is simply a reaction to the things around it, causing new reactions in perfect Newtonian style.
The difference between this and an MMO is that an MMO world won’t collapse if people fail to adhere to what is expected of them. Therefore everyone gets to be the initiator. All action, no reaction, no consequences. The reactions, of course, are expected to come from the system, but the sheer number of people in an MMO all but completely mutes these effects. Nothing can truly change in an MMO, nothing can progress, and that is at the core of an MMO’s failure to be truly interactive.
As to Lynn Hershaman’s article, I consider it something of a tangent, but an interesting one nonetheless. I find her view of interactive systems flawed. To me, an interactive system is one that is meant to reflect real life in some significant way. Talking to a human being will always be the purest form of interactivity there is. To her, it seems that interactive systems are disconnected from the world at large, and contained within themselves. She views them as passive, things to be watched. I would call that a reactive system, since the reactions never affect the viewer in any way other than aesthetically. To the contrary, I believe an interactive system must respond in a way that evokes change in the user. Under this definition, single-player video games are more interactive than either Hershmann’s art or an MMO. The player acts, the system reacts, which evokes a change in the player’s action.
Interactivity is a difficult thing to achieve, and even harder to balance. Life is interactive by default because of, as I mentioned before, simple Newtonian physics. Art imitates life, and has been interactive since the first audience participation in Greek tragedies (again, Hershman shows us that not all art is interactive, but can be). Therefore I believe that games can also be truly interactive, in ways that are ever-expanding. I simply do not believe that MMOs have achieved this yet. Until we can find a way to structure MMO societies, with consequences that affect the user, not just the character, then MMOs will never truly be interactive.
Having been to Times Square (like, oh, maybe half a dozen other people in history), I can tell you that it is a mixed experience. On the one hand, I find it deeply calming. The sea of people seems something of a return to the primordial ooze, only in large scale. On the other hand, it’s dirty and loud and there are people with funny accents yelling at you because you just called the primordial ooze calming, what’s wrong with you? But it all seems to me to be an ordered chaos; everything that happens is simply a reaction to the things around it, causing new reactions in perfect Newtonian style.
The difference between this and an MMO is that an MMO world won’t collapse if people fail to adhere to what is expected of them. Therefore everyone gets to be the initiator. All action, no reaction, no consequences. The reactions, of course, are expected to come from the system, but the sheer number of people in an MMO all but completely mutes these effects. Nothing can truly change in an MMO, nothing can progress, and that is at the core of an MMO’s failure to be truly interactive.
As to Lynn Hershaman’s article, I consider it something of a tangent, but an interesting one nonetheless. I find her view of interactive systems flawed. To me, an interactive system is one that is meant to reflect real life in some significant way. Talking to a human being will always be the purest form of interactivity there is. To her, it seems that interactive systems are disconnected from the world at large, and contained within themselves. She views them as passive, things to be watched. I would call that a reactive system, since the reactions never affect the viewer in any way other than aesthetically. To the contrary, I believe an interactive system must respond in a way that evokes change in the user. Under this definition, single-player video games are more interactive than either Hershmann’s art or an MMO. The player acts, the system reacts, which evokes a change in the player’s action.
Interactivity is a difficult thing to achieve, and even harder to balance. Life is interactive by default because of, as I mentioned before, simple Newtonian physics. Art imitates life, and has been interactive since the first audience participation in Greek tragedies (again, Hershman shows us that not all art is interactive, but can be). Therefore I believe that games can also be truly interactive, in ways that are ever-expanding. I simply do not believe that MMOs have achieved this yet. Until we can find a way to structure MMO societies, with consequences that affect the user, not just the character, then MMOs will never truly be interactive.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Timeline: '90 and '91
90’s
• LOD (Legion of Doom) & Masters of Deception are rival Hacking groups. The Great Hacker War begins, with a swift defeat of the old guard LOD. This is a completely new type of “warfare,” based on information control and cyberspace.
• Hackers penetrate DOD sites. Dutch hackers used university, government, and commercial systems to hack into Department of Defense websites. 34 sites were hacked into by way of vendor-supplied accounts and accounts with guessable or nonexistent passwords. Hacking was so much easier back then.
• “The Difference Engine.” A steampunk novel written by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling. Mechanical computers are everywhere, making the British Empire even more powerful.
• EFF founded. The Electronic Frontier Foundation is an organization to protect civil liberties in a digital world. It educates press and policy makers, and funds legal defenses to protect digital freedoms.
• “Ribofunk.” A biopunk collection by Paul Di Fillippo. Biopunk is like cyberpunk, except that it focuses on synthetic biology and genetic information. Human experimentation in a totalitarian regime is a common theme.
• “Total Recall” (film). An Arnold Schwartzeneggar film about a man who purchases false memories as a sort of vacation. It triggers previously-deleted memories about being a secret agent on Mars, but the whole movie is possibly just part of the vacation.
• Steven Jackson games raided. The Secret Service targeted Loyd Blankenship, a well-known hacker who was publishing GURPS Cyberpunk via Steven Jackson Games. GURPS Cyberpunk is a role-playing toolkit, but the Secret Service claimed it was a “handbook of computer crime.”
• Op Sundevil. A nation-wide hacker crackdown. It targeted credit card thieves and telephone abusers.
• Phiber Optik hacks TRW. Mark Abene, aka Phiber Optik, hacked a lot of things, actually. He was arrested and indicted on 11 counts of computer crime, setting a legal example for other hackers.
91
• “Cultural logic of late capitalism.” A book by Frederic Jameson critiquing postmodernism from a Marxist perspective.
• 1,000 viruses exist in the world. Computers have become universal, and with them more and more viruses have cropped up. Such is cyberpunk: with technology comes hardship and irresponsibility.
• Debut of the WWW. The Web is a series of documents linked via hypertext and accessed on the Internet, viewed with browsers. It makes the internet a much more accessible place, since it can now be navigated by simply clicking.
• “Terminator 2” (film). Arnold is back from the future to protect John Connor, since he will grow up to save humanity. The movie plays with the idea of robotic emotion, as well as other Asamovian concepts.
• LOD (Legion of Doom) & Masters of Deception are rival Hacking groups. The Great Hacker War begins, with a swift defeat of the old guard LOD. This is a completely new type of “warfare,” based on information control and cyberspace.
• Hackers penetrate DOD sites. Dutch hackers used university, government, and commercial systems to hack into Department of Defense websites. 34 sites were hacked into by way of vendor-supplied accounts and accounts with guessable or nonexistent passwords. Hacking was so much easier back then.
• “The Difference Engine.” A steampunk novel written by William Gibson and Bruce Sterling. Mechanical computers are everywhere, making the British Empire even more powerful.
• EFF founded. The Electronic Frontier Foundation is an organization to protect civil liberties in a digital world. It educates press and policy makers, and funds legal defenses to protect digital freedoms.
• “Ribofunk.” A biopunk collection by Paul Di Fillippo. Biopunk is like cyberpunk, except that it focuses on synthetic biology and genetic information. Human experimentation in a totalitarian regime is a common theme.
• “Total Recall” (film). An Arnold Schwartzeneggar film about a man who purchases false memories as a sort of vacation. It triggers previously-deleted memories about being a secret agent on Mars, but the whole movie is possibly just part of the vacation.
• Steven Jackson games raided. The Secret Service targeted Loyd Blankenship, a well-known hacker who was publishing GURPS Cyberpunk via Steven Jackson Games. GURPS Cyberpunk is a role-playing toolkit, but the Secret Service claimed it was a “handbook of computer crime.”
• Op Sundevil. A nation-wide hacker crackdown. It targeted credit card thieves and telephone abusers.
• Phiber Optik hacks TRW. Mark Abene, aka Phiber Optik, hacked a lot of things, actually. He was arrested and indicted on 11 counts of computer crime, setting a legal example for other hackers.
91
• “Cultural logic of late capitalism.” A book by Frederic Jameson critiquing postmodernism from a Marxist perspective.
• 1,000 viruses exist in the world. Computers have become universal, and with them more and more viruses have cropped up. Such is cyberpunk: with technology comes hardship and irresponsibility.
• Debut of the WWW. The Web is a series of documents linked via hypertext and accessed on the Internet, viewed with browsers. It makes the internet a much more accessible place, since it can now be navigated by simply clicking.
• “Terminator 2” (film). Arnold is back from the future to protect John Connor, since he will grow up to save humanity. The movie plays with the idea of robotic emotion, as well as other Asamovian concepts.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Random Thoughts on "Diamond Age"
Let me first admit that in order to gain a workable knowledge of The Diamond Age’s plot, I did have to skip large chunks of reading, and so I haven’t been able to completely connect everything. I truly enjoy the book, and will re-read more thoroughly when I have time, but I am an exceptionally slow reader, and I have other classes, too, you know. As another disclaimer, when you asked us to just write what we were thinking, you did so at your own risk. I don’t think there’s anything too bad; I’m just abdicating responsibility just in case.
Armies of little girls. It had to happen. Unfortunately, no teddy bears with skull guns, but maybe that’s just as well.
Now for thoughts on the Primer. Lots of them. First, I started thinking about the whole book-within-a-book thing, which took me outside Stephenson’s story to look at the book as a whole a bit more critically. Obviously, Stephenson has a slightly-too-grandiose view of himself to make a book without some perceived profound message, but I still can’t bring myself to believe that he thinks The Diamond Age is a tome of infinitely malleable wisdom and knowledge. Which brings us, of course, to:
The Bible. Thank god (pun intended) for stories whose roots are lost in history and are therefore subject to whatever interpretation the current body of power wishes to imbue it with. My senior prediction in high school was that I would found a new political party based on a platform of cynicism, as a random aside. Now, the idea of an electronic bible is fraught with meaning as it is (what with worshipping technology, giving science a metaphorical meaning that by definition as an objective pursuit it’s not supposed to have, blah blah blah). But that would make Stephenson god, as the creator of the author of this new bible, and that simultaneously makes me chuckle and makes me not want to give the idea too much credence, so I’m going to move on.
The Primer obviously has a much more profound effect on Nell than it has on Elizabeth or Fiona (or the hordes of Christians, I mean… small Chinese girls, for that matter). There are two obvious explanations for this. First, as far as I can tell, Nell’s Primer is the only one with a live* human being at the other end of it. I know the Chinese version is synthesized, and I couldn’t tell with the other girls’, but I’m making an assumption. The second explanation is that Nell is the one who actually needs to use the more down-and-dirty street sense the Primer has to offer. For the others, it’s just a particularly addictive ractive/boot camp/whatever.
*The idea of ractors kind of irks me. It seems to be a logical extension of a lot of the cinematic technology used today with movies like “The Lord of the Rings” and “Beowulf.” It just struck me as ironic how those stories, with their background and setting, are the ones that most heavily use modern technology, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, it makes sense when you want to create a non-human character with more organic motions (as with Gollum), or want to create a universal aesthetic when everything BUT the people is computer generated (as with Beowulf, even though this is a pretty bad example of…everything). It also makes sense when you want to do real-time theatre on a global scale, or want to make cosmetic changes that makeup and costumes can’t accomplish. You know, the more I talk about it, the more it makes sense logistically and culturally, but as an actor it still just bugs me, ok? *grumble*
It also kind of amuses me what Hackworth’s idea of “subversive” is. The Primer teaches Nell martial arts, viral programming, how to start a fire, to name a few. What she does with this knowledge is another thing entirely, but it still makes me chuckle to see Hackworth teaching someone to be naughty. The programming is a result of his own profession, but much of the other information could be found in a boy scout’s handbook.
Also, Rob was right, the Drummers are freaky. The whole wetware thing is once again reminiscent of the Borg and the Matrix and everything else. I do think it’s clever how sex was repurposed, even though it gives rise to a slew of dirty geek jokes. (“Oh, baby, I’m going to import some data through your USB slot. Yeah, you are universal service, aren’t you?”)
Oh, and before I forget. What the hell. Just…what the hell.
Armies of little girls. It had to happen. Unfortunately, no teddy bears with skull guns, but maybe that’s just as well.
Now for thoughts on the Primer. Lots of them. First, I started thinking about the whole book-within-a-book thing, which took me outside Stephenson’s story to look at the book as a whole a bit more critically. Obviously, Stephenson has a slightly-too-grandiose view of himself to make a book without some perceived profound message, but I still can’t bring myself to believe that he thinks The Diamond Age is a tome of infinitely malleable wisdom and knowledge. Which brings us, of course, to:
The Bible. Thank god (pun intended) for stories whose roots are lost in history and are therefore subject to whatever interpretation the current body of power wishes to imbue it with. My senior prediction in high school was that I would found a new political party based on a platform of cynicism, as a random aside. Now, the idea of an electronic bible is fraught with meaning as it is (what with worshipping technology, giving science a metaphorical meaning that by definition as an objective pursuit it’s not supposed to have, blah blah blah). But that would make Stephenson god, as the creator of the author of this new bible, and that simultaneously makes me chuckle and makes me not want to give the idea too much credence, so I’m going to move on.
The Primer obviously has a much more profound effect on Nell than it has on Elizabeth or Fiona (or the hordes of Christians, I mean… small Chinese girls, for that matter). There are two obvious explanations for this. First, as far as I can tell, Nell’s Primer is the only one with a live* human being at the other end of it. I know the Chinese version is synthesized, and I couldn’t tell with the other girls’, but I’m making an assumption. The second explanation is that Nell is the one who actually needs to use the more down-and-dirty street sense the Primer has to offer. For the others, it’s just a particularly addictive ractive/boot camp/whatever.
*The idea of ractors kind of irks me. It seems to be a logical extension of a lot of the cinematic technology used today with movies like “The Lord of the Rings” and “Beowulf.” It just struck me as ironic how those stories, with their background and setting, are the ones that most heavily use modern technology, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, it makes sense when you want to create a non-human character with more organic motions (as with Gollum), or want to create a universal aesthetic when everything BUT the people is computer generated (as with Beowulf, even though this is a pretty bad example of…everything). It also makes sense when you want to do real-time theatre on a global scale, or want to make cosmetic changes that makeup and costumes can’t accomplish. You know, the more I talk about it, the more it makes sense logistically and culturally, but as an actor it still just bugs me, ok? *grumble*
It also kind of amuses me what Hackworth’s idea of “subversive” is. The Primer teaches Nell martial arts, viral programming, how to start a fire, to name a few. What she does with this knowledge is another thing entirely, but it still makes me chuckle to see Hackworth teaching someone to be naughty. The programming is a result of his own profession, but much of the other information could be found in a boy scout’s handbook.
Also, Rob was right, the Drummers are freaky. The whole wetware thing is once again reminiscent of the Borg and the Matrix and everything else. I do think it’s clever how sex was repurposed, even though it gives rise to a slew of dirty geek jokes. (“Oh, baby, I’m going to import some data through your USB slot. Yeah, you are universal service, aren’t you?”)
Oh, and before I forget. What the hell. Just…what the hell.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
I Have A Week to Find A Better MMO
I chose to start a character in Runescape, which is a free online MMO. Runescape has a members portion, as well, which significantly expands the scope of the game. There is no opening sequence to speak of, except for a tutorial section for new players. The character I picked somewhat arbitrarily, as there is no racial bonus to certain characters, or whatever else would make one choose a certain character for reasons other than aesthetic value.
I understand many people do simply choose characters for aesthetic value, but it’s something that has never factored into how I play games, so the idea of presenting myself in a certain fashion (in a game, anyway) is a foreign concept to me. As far as names go, I ended up with Zeromus59, after discovering that all the screen names I usually cycle through were too long. I also hate having a random number after my screen name (I’m picky, I know), because as a writer I figure I should be able to come up with some combination of characters no one else on the server has. I believe Runescape includes random numbers by default, though. Zeromus is the final boss of Final Fantasy IV, by the way, and it was, again, the last obscure name I tried putting through before I gave up.
The interface is simple point-and-click. You click on something, and your character walks there, or asks what you want to do in a drop-down menu if there’s something interesting there. I have not discovered keyboard shortcuts for anything besides camera movement, which makes the interface somewhat inefficient. For example, to cast a spell you have to click into the spell menu, select the tiny icon that indicates a particular spell, and then click on what you want to use it on. In a battle, or any other time-dependent scenario, this is annoying, to say the least.
The experience system is nice, for me anyway, because it allows you to do pretty much anything and everything the game allows. So theoretically a character can gain maximum levels in all skills, which is not always true of an MMO, or any RPG, for that matter. Personally, I almost always play the most well-rounded character I can find, so I have the most options available and the greatest potential strength. When I stopped playing, I believe I had six ranks in wood-cutting, which I used more often than, say, attacking, in which I’m only second rank.
Unfortunately, that’s where the benefits of the skill set end. The game has no overarching goal or purpose, so you just bounce from quest to quest for the sake of it. The game map is enormous, yet your character moves at a frustratingly slow pace, even when running, which is a rare privilege. People in Runescape tire quickly. Combined with the clunky interface, it makes for a very long game with very few rewards.
Basically, my plan to avoid spending money on an MMO—a concept to which I object as a gamer and a human being—backfired spectacularly. If I’m going to get any sort of meaningful play or interaction, I’m going to need to buy a game that will hopefully strike the fine balance between giving me my money’s worth and eating my soul. One where I can have my own name. And not have to chop logs more frequently than fight something.
I understand many people do simply choose characters for aesthetic value, but it’s something that has never factored into how I play games, so the idea of presenting myself in a certain fashion (in a game, anyway) is a foreign concept to me. As far as names go, I ended up with Zeromus59, after discovering that all the screen names I usually cycle through were too long. I also hate having a random number after my screen name (I’m picky, I know), because as a writer I figure I should be able to come up with some combination of characters no one else on the server has. I believe Runescape includes random numbers by default, though. Zeromus is the final boss of Final Fantasy IV, by the way, and it was, again, the last obscure name I tried putting through before I gave up.
The interface is simple point-and-click. You click on something, and your character walks there, or asks what you want to do in a drop-down menu if there’s something interesting there. I have not discovered keyboard shortcuts for anything besides camera movement, which makes the interface somewhat inefficient. For example, to cast a spell you have to click into the spell menu, select the tiny icon that indicates a particular spell, and then click on what you want to use it on. In a battle, or any other time-dependent scenario, this is annoying, to say the least.
The experience system is nice, for me anyway, because it allows you to do pretty much anything and everything the game allows. So theoretically a character can gain maximum levels in all skills, which is not always true of an MMO, or any RPG, for that matter. Personally, I almost always play the most well-rounded character I can find, so I have the most options available and the greatest potential strength. When I stopped playing, I believe I had six ranks in wood-cutting, which I used more often than, say, attacking, in which I’m only second rank.
Unfortunately, that’s where the benefits of the skill set end. The game has no overarching goal or purpose, so you just bounce from quest to quest for the sake of it. The game map is enormous, yet your character moves at a frustratingly slow pace, even when running, which is a rare privilege. People in Runescape tire quickly. Combined with the clunky interface, it makes for a very long game with very few rewards.
Basically, my plan to avoid spending money on an MMO—a concept to which I object as a gamer and a human being—backfired spectacularly. If I’m going to get any sort of meaningful play or interaction, I’m going to need to buy a game that will hopefully strike the fine balance between giving me my money’s worth and eating my soul. One where I can have my own name. And not have to chop logs more frequently than fight something.
Dystopias in "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" and "Blade Runner"
While Phillip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner are based on the same story, no one would say that they are identical. From the book the influence of Mercerism, Buster Friendly, “dust,” mood organs, and—most obviously—sheep are missing in the film. But to touch a bit further on the “dust,” this brings up another important distinction: namely, that the film has people, lots of people, and the novel does not. But they are both dystopian worlds, in their own right. This essay will explore these divergent dystopias, analyzing the differences between them.
In Dick’s novel, the world has ended due to nuclear war, showering the planet in radioactive “dust” that threatens to eventually kill humanity, prompting them to leave for off-world colonies. This puts the sanctity of life in very obvious focus, since there is not very much of it. In fact, the universal religion states that not owning an animal is immoral. “These are not pets as we think of them today, but instead represent a combination of two themes: that of consumerist America, …[and] the yearning for the closeness to organic life” (Hill).
These ideas are in stark contrast to the dystopia of Blade Runner. Aldous Huxley called Los Angeles (the setting of the film, as opposed to the San Franciscan novel) “a 'ruinous sprawling ossuary' subject to 'deforestation, pollution and other acts of ecological imbecility'” (Clements). Quite the opposite from the novel, where such a waste of life would be heinous. But then again, the world of the movie has not been ravaged by nuclear war.
So which is the truer dystopia? Do Androids Dream certainly presents a vision of the future that showcases a constant, direct, oppressive threat to human life. However, Michael Heilemann compares the city of Blade Runner to Hell, complete with spouts of fire and wretched, aimless masses. He also notes that “Despite their numbers, everyone is lonely” (Heilemann 16). Ironically, the only time the protagonist Deckard engages more than one person at a time in the book is when he is taken to a false police station filled with androids.
Despite these obvious differences, several critics still argue that the world of Blade Runner supports Dick’s vision. Patrick Meaney even goes so far as to say “The film's incredible visuals capture perfectly the run down city atmosphere that Dick described in his novel.” To go a bit more in-depth, both mediums do accurately represent a synthesis of the old and new, as is frequently found in Dick’s works; for example, parking flying cars on top of present-day apartment buildings (Cowie). Xan Brooks calls this style a “post-modern collage,” a description that can certainly be attributed to both versions of the story (Clements).
And so both settings, while overtly different, do support the central themes of Dick’s work. After all, a miserable world is a miserable world. While the post-apocalyptic world in Do Androids Dream is necessary to support various plot points not included in the film, the overall style of the future is preserved in the film. Conversely, Blade Runner’s Los Angeles is necessary to pull off the film noir style, yet uniquely Dickian themes prevail. The city is still sparsely populated by actual, independent human beings, entropy is taking its throne, and kipple is ubiquitous, be it the trash Pris sleeps in or the faceless crowds Decker wades through.
Bibliography
Meaney, P. (2002, June 10). Alienations in a Dystopia: Scott's Blade Runner and Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. Retrieved October 9, 2008, from BRmovie.com Web site: http://www.brmovie.com/Analysis/BR-DADoES.htm
Cowie, J. (2008, April 15). Blade Runner vs. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. Retrieved October 9, 2008, from Concactenation.org Web site: http://www.concatenation.org/articles/bladerunner_do_androids_dream_of_electric.html
Hill, C.N. Retrieved October 9, 2008, from Philip K. Dick: A comparison between the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and the film Blade Runner. Web site: http://members.aol.com/cnhill/sf/bladerunner.htm
Clements, D. (2003, December 6). FROM DYSTOPIA TO MYOPIA: Metropolis to Blade Runner. Retrieved October 9, 2008, from hem.passagen.se Web site: http://hem.passagen.se/replikant/dystopia_myopia.htm
Heilemann, M. (2001). Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and Blade Runner.
In Dick’s novel, the world has ended due to nuclear war, showering the planet in radioactive “dust” that threatens to eventually kill humanity, prompting them to leave for off-world colonies. This puts the sanctity of life in very obvious focus, since there is not very much of it. In fact, the universal religion states that not owning an animal is immoral. “These are not pets as we think of them today, but instead represent a combination of two themes: that of consumerist America, …[and] the yearning for the closeness to organic life” (Hill).
These ideas are in stark contrast to the dystopia of Blade Runner. Aldous Huxley called Los Angeles (the setting of the film, as opposed to the San Franciscan novel) “a 'ruinous sprawling ossuary' subject to 'deforestation, pollution and other acts of ecological imbecility'” (Clements). Quite the opposite from the novel, where such a waste of life would be heinous. But then again, the world of the movie has not been ravaged by nuclear war.
So which is the truer dystopia? Do Androids Dream certainly presents a vision of the future that showcases a constant, direct, oppressive threat to human life. However, Michael Heilemann compares the city of Blade Runner to Hell, complete with spouts of fire and wretched, aimless masses. He also notes that “Despite their numbers, everyone is lonely” (Heilemann 16). Ironically, the only time the protagonist Deckard engages more than one person at a time in the book is when he is taken to a false police station filled with androids.
Despite these obvious differences, several critics still argue that the world of Blade Runner supports Dick’s vision. Patrick Meaney even goes so far as to say “The film's incredible visuals capture perfectly the run down city atmosphere that Dick described in his novel.” To go a bit more in-depth, both mediums do accurately represent a synthesis of the old and new, as is frequently found in Dick’s works; for example, parking flying cars on top of present-day apartment buildings (Cowie). Xan Brooks calls this style a “post-modern collage,” a description that can certainly be attributed to both versions of the story (Clements).
And so both settings, while overtly different, do support the central themes of Dick’s work. After all, a miserable world is a miserable world. While the post-apocalyptic world in Do Androids Dream is necessary to support various plot points not included in the film, the overall style of the future is preserved in the film. Conversely, Blade Runner’s Los Angeles is necessary to pull off the film noir style, yet uniquely Dickian themes prevail. The city is still sparsely populated by actual, independent human beings, entropy is taking its throne, and kipple is ubiquitous, be it the trash Pris sleeps in or the faceless crowds Decker wades through.
Bibliography
Meaney, P. (2002, June 10). Alienations in a Dystopia: Scott's Blade Runner and Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. Retrieved October 9, 2008, from BRmovie.com Web site: http://www.brmovie.com/Analysis/BR-DADoES.htm
Cowie, J. (2008, April 15). Blade Runner vs. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. Retrieved October 9, 2008, from Concactenation.org Web site: http://www.concatenation.org/articles/bladerunner_do_androids_dream_of_electric.html
Hill, C.N. Retrieved October 9, 2008, from Philip K. Dick: A comparison between the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and the film Blade Runner. Web site: http://members.aol.com/cnhill/sf/bladerunner.htm
Clements, D. (2003, December 6). FROM DYSTOPIA TO MYOPIA: Metropolis to Blade Runner. Retrieved October 9, 2008, from hem.passagen.se Web site: http://hem.passagen.se/replikant/dystopia_myopia.htm
Heilemann, M. (2001). Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and Blade Runner.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
"Red Star, Winter Orbit"
The reason I am analyzing “Red Star, Winter Orbit” is because of the two Gibson short stories, this one is less clear to me, perversely enough. Also, I’ve been reading “Neuromancer” on the side, so the literary infusion from Bruce Sterling is a welcome one. I will provide a short summary—if only to clarify my thoughts—and then comment upon the nature of apocalypse as presented in cyber-punk and in the story. Also, I want to explain my choice of source beforehand, since I know it is not usually accepted as an academic source; simply, Wikipedia is the best possible source to explain cyberpunk. It’s essentially an autobiography of the dystopian, information-driven society cyber punk warns us about. And now the essay begins:
The protagonist of the story is Colonel Korolev, a Kazakhstani cosmonaut. He has been in the space station Kosmograd for twenty years, and will remain there for the rest of his life, an explosion having damaged his hip in a way that prevents his return to gravity. The crew finds out the station is to be decommissioned, essentially pronouncing the death of Korolev, the first man on Mars. This incites a strike and then a revolt against the resident KGB officer, Yefremov. In the end, Korolev is alone on the station, waiting for its orbit to decay and destroy them both, until some Americans come to squat there, setting the station back in orbit (Sterling 202-222).
Apocalypse is a frequent theme in cyber punk. More generally, dystopia is a frequent theme in cyber punk (Wikipedia), and an apocalypse certainly isn’t utopian. In “Red Star, Winter Orbit,” the apocalypse is not global, except insofar as Kosmograd is the Colonel’s world. This use of metaphor is certainly appropriate for early cyber-punk; it synthesizes the off-world big technology of cyber-punk’s sci-fi ancestry with the social dilapidation of the new Movement (Sterling x). Apocalypse in the story is, on a more literal level, characterized by the mutiny on Kosmograd, resulting in a crippled station and a very lonely Colonel. However, on a more subtle and uniquely cyber-punk level, apocalypse takes on a new name: obsolescence.
Many cyber-punk stories are set post-apocalypse, or, as is frequently the case in Gibson’s writing, post-apocalypse-that-never-was. “Red Star, Winter Orbit” is unique in that it describes the apocalypse, and it is slow, sad, and unrelenting. The fact that the Americans who arrive did not know Krolev was there is evidence that his crewmates never told his story. The Colonel, arguably the last man in the “world” of the station even before its abandonment, simply fades from existence, old, crippled, and alone, and no one even knew it. Seen in this light, the perennial American adolescence of manifest destiny seems cruel, at best.
An apocalypse is a world-ending event, by definition, but who is to say whose world it ends, or the manner in which it does so? Is it not more sinister, more melancholy, more definitively cyber-punk to allow people to be outdated, living in their own Museum of Triumph, enduring the Apocalypse of the Forsaken? Thus “Red Star, Winter Orbit” reminds us of two things. First, that we must never forget those that came before us. The technology may become outdated, but those who pioneered it do not. Second, that the human machine is one of adaptation. It will rebirth itself in the face of tragedy. Korolev, the old guard, the previous generation, the explorers, will, however unfairly, cease to be, being destroyed or forgotten. But the simple fact that cyber-punk is frequently post-apocalyptic is a sign of morbid hope: just because it’s the apocalypse doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.
The protagonist of the story is Colonel Korolev, a Kazakhstani cosmonaut. He has been in the space station Kosmograd for twenty years, and will remain there for the rest of his life, an explosion having damaged his hip in a way that prevents his return to gravity. The crew finds out the station is to be decommissioned, essentially pronouncing the death of Korolev, the first man on Mars. This incites a strike and then a revolt against the resident KGB officer, Yefremov. In the end, Korolev is alone on the station, waiting for its orbit to decay and destroy them both, until some Americans come to squat there, setting the station back in orbit (Sterling 202-222).
Apocalypse is a frequent theme in cyber punk. More generally, dystopia is a frequent theme in cyber punk (Wikipedia), and an apocalypse certainly isn’t utopian. In “Red Star, Winter Orbit,” the apocalypse is not global, except insofar as Kosmograd is the Colonel’s world. This use of metaphor is certainly appropriate for early cyber-punk; it synthesizes the off-world big technology of cyber-punk’s sci-fi ancestry with the social dilapidation of the new Movement (Sterling x). Apocalypse in the story is, on a more literal level, characterized by the mutiny on Kosmograd, resulting in a crippled station and a very lonely Colonel. However, on a more subtle and uniquely cyber-punk level, apocalypse takes on a new name: obsolescence.
Many cyber-punk stories are set post-apocalypse, or, as is frequently the case in Gibson’s writing, post-apocalypse-that-never-was. “Red Star, Winter Orbit” is unique in that it describes the apocalypse, and it is slow, sad, and unrelenting. The fact that the Americans who arrive did not know Krolev was there is evidence that his crewmates never told his story. The Colonel, arguably the last man in the “world” of the station even before its abandonment, simply fades from existence, old, crippled, and alone, and no one even knew it. Seen in this light, the perennial American adolescence of manifest destiny seems cruel, at best.
An apocalypse is a world-ending event, by definition, but who is to say whose world it ends, or the manner in which it does so? Is it not more sinister, more melancholy, more definitively cyber-punk to allow people to be outdated, living in their own Museum of Triumph, enduring the Apocalypse of the Forsaken? Thus “Red Star, Winter Orbit” reminds us of two things. First, that we must never forget those that came before us. The technology may become outdated, but those who pioneered it do not. Second, that the human machine is one of adaptation. It will rebirth itself in the face of tragedy. Korolev, the old guard, the previous generation, the explorers, will, however unfairly, cease to be, being destroyed or forgotten. But the simple fact that cyber-punk is frequently post-apocalyptic is a sign of morbid hope: just because it’s the apocalypse doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Cyborgs
Class discussion aside, my personal definition of what characterizes a cyborg is slightly more conservative. A cyborg is a human with integrated, unnatural mechanical parts. This contrasts with androids, which I consider to be a subcategory of humanoid robot. Furthermore, by “integrated,” I primarily mean integrated internally, as in the case of a pacemaker, but some external accessories do make the cut: glasses, prosthetic limbs, perhaps even a wristwatch. However, I draw the line at cell phones, laptops, wireless car keys, etc. While these things may “extend our senses,” I do not believe that they are integrated with our selves in a fundamental enough way as to be considered cybernetic components of the human organism (yes it was necessary to spell out “cyborg”). I.e., one is blind without glasses, cannot walk without limbs, may be disoriented without a watch, but despite how many jokes have been made about surgical removal of phones from various persons’ ears, cell phones do not represent such an integral part of our (or at least my, which is the perspective I have to work with) daily functionality as to be considered a communications organ.
That being said, are cyborgs to be feared? Well, first we must consider that there are, at least, two varieties of cyborg. The examples listed above indicate cyborgs of the first variety—cyborgization as a means to bring a person up to baseline human functionality. The second variety, then, is the introduction of mechanical parts to enhance a person past normal human capabilities. For example, a friend of mine told me a certain Toronto Blue Jays pitcher had replaced some tendons in his arm with metal coils. After a long and frustrating internet search I was unable to verify this, but I’m using it as an example anyway. Now, this is an instance where the cyborg was already a Major League Baseball player, ergo, already in peak human physical condition, who then implanted cybernetic parts to be even better. This might be scary, had he chosen to do something besides throw baseballs with his newly mechanical arm.
And therein lies the entire debate about cybernetics, as well as pretty much everything else about the human condition. What do we believe the majority of people would do with a brand new mechanical arm? Would people use it to be able to lift bigger, heavier weapons, or just throw a baseball a bit faster? The truth is, probably both. We find ourselves once again mired in the gun rights debate, only now the gun is our own bodies. “This minigun arm is just for hunting.” If you ask me, and you’re reading my blog, so yes, you’re asking me, I would prefer to enhance myself, and the human race and condition, under my own steam. I think humanity was doing just fine in both getting food and killing each other before guns came along, too. I also think that no matter what I think, if people can get a pacemaker, then they can get laser eyes as well.
In sum, I do not believe cybernetics are a natural step in human progress. In fact, they are by definition not a natural step towards anything. However, I do not deem them to be by default evil. Like any other technology, it remains neutral until we give it purpose. One might note that I have not answered the biggest question I have posed: are people more good than evil, or vice versa? I do not know. I do not even have an opinion. In my personal philosophy, the human race is not the singular organism many see it as. So when I come across a race of men with cannons in their chests, I will have to evaluate them as I would otherwise: one at a time.
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