Cruisin' Mos Espa in my Delorean

No, seriously you guys: “The Clone Wars.”

CloneWarsMandalorePlot.jpg
(Title courtesy of MC Chris).

I’ve mentioned the “Clone Wars” series on here before, but it’s always along the lines of “No really, it’s better than you’d think.” It’s been pushing my buttons, but you know it’s still a cartoon TV series aimed directly at kids.

This week’s episode was called “The Manadlorian Plot” and had Obi-Wan Kenobi going to the planet Mandalore (Boba Fett’s home world!) and engaging in some The Thin Man-style banter with a duchess there before uncovering a terrorism plot staged by a suicide bomber, after which they flew to the planet’s moon and took speeder bikes to visit a long-abandoned mining station that was taken over by a renegade guerilla force of Boba Fetts plotting to bring down the government on account of its neutral stance in the war. After a series of near-miss escapes and explosions, Obi-Wan gets in a lightsaber duel with the head of the rebel group, who’s using a black, katana-style lightsaber that he got as a spoil of war from a raid on an ancient Jedi temple.

That sound you hear is 12-year-old me having an aneurism.

I’m not sure anymore that this series is aimed at kids; I suspect it’s aimed directly at teens and pre-teens in 1983, and it’s just taken them 27 years to broadcast it.

Comment on this Post

Botched?

More about the iPad, with a layman’s take on positioning your product and “inventing” a whole new type of computer.

This started as a reply to a comment on the other post, but it quickly got away from me and turned into something else. First, the comment:

my whole issue with the ipad is pretty much summed up by my tweet of “a better name for it would have been the Segway.”

Like the Segway, the iPad fell victim to unofficial, unverified rumor mongering and bullshit hype. The ipad has a forward facing camera for videoconferencing. The ipad has a revolutionary input mechanism. The ipad cures rabies.

At the end of the day, fanboys will say “but none of that was confirmed!” … but alas, hype is hype, whether official or unofficial. Apple is a big boy, and ultimately responsible for their own rep, for better or for worse. Same with the Segway. And note: just like the segway, there were plenty of nerds who still loved it when it finally debuted. I’m not trying to claim the iPad isn’t lovable. Only that it didn’t live up to its rumored reputation.

So this time, there wasn’t a fanboy in the house who could legitimately claim they were blown away. Everything Apple showed us was fine. It was good. It just *didn’t match the hype*.

[...]

That’s not to say the iPad won’t be a success. I’m only saying its launch goes down in history as one of Apple’s most botched. This time, an apple product will truly live or die based on it’s qualities, rather than its hype. Because in my mind, the hype failed.

Whether you like it, hate it, or are indifferent, saying that the iPad announcement was “botched” is completely ludicrous.

The main mistake is over-inflating the importance of “fanboys,” just like all the end-of-open-computing Cassandras are over-inflating the importance of hackers. You (or technically, “we”) have to come to terms with the fact that Apple’s Just Not That Into You.

The iPad is targeted squarely at a “casual” audience. Not even casual computer users, like I’d originally typed, but people who don’t even think of what they do in terms of “computing.” It’s the consumer-level appliance computer that Jobs has always wanted. It’s the original Mac that required a special tool just to open it, but you don’t have to teach people how to use the mouse. It’s the iMac that advertised only having to plug in one cord, but you don’t have to plug in anything. It’s not aimed at people who would be buying a Linux netbook or even a MacBook; it’s aimed more at people who would be buying digital picture frames or portable DVD players or Kindles.

The most telling line from the whole keynote was when Jobs said Amazon did a great job with the Kindle, and Apple was “standing on their shoulders.” It was specifically about their new bookstore, but you can extrapolate that to the whole product launch. Ebook readers existed before the Kindle. There are, and were, other models that have “better” specs and features, at least on paper. But Amazon succeeded on three counts:

  1. Backing up the device with a distribution model that already had tons of content.
  2. Marketing the product not based on features but utility.
  3. Understanding that their target audience wasn’t people shopping for ebook readers, but people who wouldn’t even have thought of getting an ebook reader.

The hard part wasn’t convincing people that their ebook reader was better than the other ebook readers — in a lot of ways, it probably was, but not in such a dramatic way that anyone would instantly rush out and buy one. The hard part was convincing people that they needed an ebook reader at all. And because they understood that, they ended up Kleenexing their product name — everybody knows what an ebook reader is now, and more often than not, they call it a “Kindle.”

And by that measure, calling Apple’s iPad announcement and the build-up to it “botched” is nonsense. It’s already done most of what it needed to do, and for free. Everybody was talking about this thing for months before its release, and Apple had officially said nothing. After the announcement, every blog had a reaction — not just the tech ones, either, but every blog. What you call “hype” I call “genius.” They only had to spend about the same marketing budget as they’d have spent on a new iPod release, but they instantly became the major player in a market, without even doing anything.

They didn’t have to live up to any hype. The hype had already done its job, which was convincing people that this was something that they needed to pay attention to. All Apple had to do was not blow it. The thing could’ve been priced out of the range of people who just want a “casual” computer, but it wasn’t. It could’ve been running OS X, convincing a lot of people that it was just another Mac or that they’d have to “learn” a new operating system, but they don’t. It could’ve been announced with just the built-in apps and come across as a glorified ebook reader or video player with no real indication of what apps for it would be like, but it comes with the App Store. They could’ve tied it to an expensive data plan, but you can get it Wi-Fi only or you can pay a monthly fee with no contract.

Compare it to the HP Slate, which is closest in terms of form factor, and which had its own mini-keynote announcement from Ballmer at CES. You could look at a side-by-side feature list and quite reasonably assume that the HP Slate is a no-brainer, and that Apple’s product launch was “botched.” But you’d be missing the point to a colossal degree. The people that Apple is trying to reach don’t care about feature lists. I’m not being condescending or patronizing with that, either — I’m one of those people. I’m a nerd with a CS degree, so I’m ostensibly supposed to care about feature lists, but I don’t unless I’m buying a “real” computer. I don’t care what kind of processor is in my DVD player, I don’t care what fuzzy-logic ever-brown crispness sensor is in my toaster. I just want them to do what they’re made to do.

What does the Kindle do? It lets you buy and read books, in grayscale on a non-backlit screen. I don’t read enough to spend $250 for that. No sale on account of limited use.

What do any of the Android tablets do? Web surfing, e-mail, date book, contact list. I’ve already got a phone that handles some of that stuff and a laptop that handles the rest. Presumably there’s an Android app store, but I haven’t heard much about it or seen any specific examples of Android apps. I’ve never seen any screenshots or video of an Android device that didn’t look like a pre-iPhone cell phone display. I keep hearing that it’s an “open” platform, and keep being reminded how great that is, but as far as I’m concerned it’s like any Linux distribution — yeah, great it’s open, but there’s nothing I really want or need to do on it since all my favorite apps are for another OS. No sale on account of vague usefulness.

What does the HP Slate do? Everything that Windows 7 does, in a thin and ultraportable form factor. Unlike Android, I know exactly what Windows is and how it works. Which browser do I use? Any one I want. Where do I get applications for it? Anywhere I want. Are those apps going to run well on a machine this small? Try it and see. What about viruses? Windows 7 comes with a free virus scanner that works well. So I have to run a virus-scanner on a handheld computer? No sale on account of a surfeit of choices.

What does the iPad do? Not everything, but a lot of things. I, like millions of other people, know exactly what iPhone OS is and how it works. Which browser do I use? Mobile Safari. Where do I get applications for it? From the App Store. Are those apps going to run well on a machine like this? They will say “designed for iPad.” What about viruses? Apple controls the App Store. Here, I’m tempted, because what over-heated tech bloggers describe as a closed system with a lack of choice, I see as something that keeps me from having to make choices I don’t care about.

That focus, combined with the “it just works” philosophy, is why Apple can branch out into consumer electronics with more success than other companies. Even companies with technically superior hardware. It’s subtle enough — or people just fail to “get” it — that a lot of people dismiss it as the “reality distortion field.” They blather that Apple “fanboys” will buy anything with the Apple logo on it and then insist that it’s the most awesome thing ever created, even when confronted with objective proof that brand X has more storage/Flash support/a camera/open source operating system/whatever. But for a lot of people, I would even say most people, it’s about getting something that does exactly what we want, no more and no less, and doing it well.

Again, all Apple had to do was get people believing that a computer in between a phone and a full-size laptop or desktop machine is a useful thing to have. And it’s not just that they didn’t “botch” that; they succeeded beyond the level anybody could’ve imagined or predicted. People who’d never have considered getting a netbook (like myself) are now debating the merits of a $500 “casual-use” portable computer, and everybody in the target market at least knows the name “iPad” and has an idea of what it does. (And again, they got much of that for free). Marketing material aside, they didn’t make a revolutionary device that absolutely no one else could make. They made a very good device that does exactly what it needs to do. And where Apple succeeds while others fail is that they didn’t stop with the hardware or even the OS: they presented the entire thing from processor to form factor to how people will actually use it and to how they can extend it.

15 Comments

First World Rebellion

Post-iPad announcement entry as required by Over-entitled Internet Blogger Code Section 12510.1


On Wednesday of this week, Apple announced a magical and revolutionary device that will herald the future of personal computing. But it’s not a bright future, no, but a tragic, deeply cynical, disturbing one. People will be powerless to stave off the onslaught of evil, locked into a frightening future of a tightly-controlled app store. That is why it is imperative that no one must buy the iPad, or that the only moral, ethical way to save the future is to buy one and then hack it.

At least, that’s if you believe everything you read on the internet. If you’re still at all grounded in reality, you realize that Apple announced a big iPod Touch.

(That’s if you’re not still giggling over the name. And for the record, I never would’ve made the obvious joke had I known a) they were actually going to call it that, and b) it would so quickly become the 2010 equivalent of abbreviating Microsoft as M$ by YouTube & blog commenters).

iPhone Gigante

I still don’t understand why so many Internet types — both criticizing and defending — seem to think that calling it “a big iPod Touch” is such a devastating ice burn. John Gruber insists that the iPad is what Apple’s had in mind all along; the iPad isn’t a bigger iPhone, but the iPhone is a stripped-down iPad. Whichever way you want to look at it: the iPhone is pretty cool.

The iPad announcement confirmed my own worst suspicions of the thing — not that I’m particularly prescient or even in the loop of the tech world, but just because it was the most straightforward and obvious thing that Apple could’ve announced. It’s designed for consuming media, not creating it. And according to people who’ve had a hands-on with it, it does a really good job at that. I’m inclined to believe Stephen Fry’s claim that you have to see it in person to really appreciate it — not because he’s any more or less reliable than anyone else as a technology commentator, but because I had the same experience with the iPhone. I’d been trying to talk myself out of getting an iPhone, but was completely won over as soon as I used a display model and saw the clarity of the screen and all the polish that’d been given to the UI.

And the iPhone is still pretty damn neat. It’s already obviated a laptop computer for a lot of the “casual computing” stuff I tend to do, and the app store has expanded its functionality several times over. And yes, I have often thought, “a faster version of this, with a larger screen, would be ideal.” So what’s the problem?

Read the rest of this entry »

5 Comments

Objective C tutorial

Learn iPhone programming the dated and not particularly funny way.

@implementation Wind
-(int) Blow {
	int roadCount;
	NSSet allRoads;
	Man man;

	roadCount = 0;
	for (Road aRoad in allRoads) {
		[man walkDown:aRoad];
		if ([man isAMan]) {
			break;
		} else {
			++roadCount;
		}
	}
	return roadCount;
}
@end

@implementation BestClassOfAllTime
-(void) run {
	NSSet allLadies;
	try {
		for (Lady lady in allLadies) {
			if (lady.isSingle) {
				[lady putHand:UP];
			}
		}
	} catch (NSExceptionLiked) {
		throw(exception("Ring not found."));
	}
}
@end

1 Comment

Happy Birthday Rain

Because I didn’t think to buy a card.

I want to wish a happy birthday to my best friend Rain, who is neither a weather phenomenon nor a Korean pop sensation (although really, she could be if she’d just put a little more effort into it).

I’ve been friends with Rain for almost fourteen years now*, and she can still surprise me by doing something unexpectedly and inexplicably awesome. Like, for instance, not just buying me a cake for my birthday, but sitting outside in the cold with me and eating it so I didn’t have to finish it by myself. I — like many humans, I’d guess — would never even think to do something like that, but then I’m neither as tenacious with my friendships nor as thoughtful.

Rain is one of the first friends I made outside of work after I moved to San Francisco, and that kind of ruined things. See, I’d never been out here for any length of time, so I just assumed that things on the west coast worked differently. I thought I’d been somehow moved up to some higher circle, where everyone was inordinately hip and smart and effortlessly funny, and people were true to their word, and everyone would be unjustifiably kind to you without expecting anything in return. Of course, I eventually learned that there was nothing inherently special about San Francisco; I’d just moved out here and almost immediately met someone exceptional. I can say without exaggeration that Rain’s friendship is about 95% of what makes the bay area not just “the place I live,” but “home.” (The other 5% is just because the katsu curry rice around here is really good).

So happy birthday!

* She was, of course, 16.

2 Comments

Making Murder Fun Again

I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the series “Castle.”

castleandbeckett.jpg
I’ve got an entire season’s worth of “Castle” recorded, not really out of a desire to watch it so much as I wanted to test the DVR and ABC is one of the few networks I get via my antenna. I’m sure I fit squarely into some demographic or other: I first heard of it because any show with an ex-Firefly cast member gets a ding on my radar, so I planned to watch it eventually. But it looked like any other of a billion police procedurals, indistinguishable from your Laws & Orders or CSIs or Boneses or NCISes.

And really, it kind of is. The cases are fairly predictable, the references all a little dated, the situations all a little bit cliched and predictable. But there’s a big difference, and surprisingly, it’s not just whether or not you like Nathan Fillion. (That’s only about 85% of the draw).

The difference is that there’s a genuine chemistry between the characters. And not just the two leads (although they’re the most obvious), but everybody in the cast. It really does seem like it’d be a fun show to work on. Even when the story seems to be coasting, it’s just pleasant to coast along with them.

And even more appealing to me: everybody likes each other. I’ve been watching several episodes back-to-back, and it was starting to dawn on me that there was something odd about this series. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, until there was a scene where Castle went back to his apartment and… had a pleasant, clever conversation with his mother and his daughter. It’s the standard template for every single TV series that you can’t have drama without conflict, so you always get the tough-as-nails police chief reining in the lone wolf cop, or the detective with a dark past, or a tension-filled home life. “Castle” seems to get that when you’ve got a homicide every episode, the tension is already built in. You can have all the characters just being nice and supportive of each other, and as long as you’ve got the writing chops for it, it doesn’t have to be dull.

It sounds like I’m damning the series with faint praise, but I’m really not: that kind of believable chemistry not just between your will-they-or-won’t-they? leads, but between the entire cast, isn’t just something that happens. The whole show is just charming and occasionally goofy, without being completely unable to take itself seriously like “Psych,” and without being self-consciously quirky or wrapped up in false romantic tension like “Moonlighting.” I’d say it’s more like The Thin Man without the booze, instead of “Law & Order” with more jokes.

And the writing’s pretty sharp in places, too. My favorite bit from the most recent episode (spoiler if you haven’t seen it and are interested): there’s a tense as-close-as-this-series-gets-to-drama moment in which Beckett is being hit with feelings of self-doubt, and she’s worried about making a mistake on a very important and very personal case. To reassure her, Castle says, “Do you know why I chose you as my inspiration for Nikki Heat?” “No, why?” Pause. “Because you’re tall. Now get in there and do your job.”

Comment on this Post

My Pen! He took my pen!

Adding to all the noise about the Apple Tablet, and pretending that I’ve still got some control over my conspicuous consumption.

kithmypen.jpgIt’s Internet Law that every website, no matter what its topic or area of expertise, has to have at least one post about the Apple tablet, and I’ve already done mine. But people keep writing things that keep getting me all worked up about it. And if the rumors are true, I’ve only got two weeks left to pretend that I have enough willpower to make a discriminating purchasing decision.

The latest thing that set me off was Dan Moren’s column on MacWorld speculating on how the tablet would handle text input. In particular:

Stylus – The stylus was a great idea back in the days of the Palm Pilot and the Newton, when everybody still used pens all the time, but we’ve moved on, folks. I mean, have you seen kids’ handwriting these days? Aside from appealing to the hardcore Newton aficionados out there, I doubt that Apple wants to evoke the ghost of that particular device. Not to mention styli are easy to lose. That said, Apple has had a handwriting-recognition technology called Inkwell squirreled away inside OS X since Jaguar, though right now it’s only really useful if you’ve got a graphics tablet or are using OWC’s ModBook. It wouldn’t be impossible for them to have dusted that off and given it an update to today’s technology. Odds: 200 to 1

Moren actually guesses that the stylus is even less likely than voice recognition or no text entry at all.

This kind of thing concerns me. Not so much for text entry, since even on a tiny keypad, I can type much faster than I can write longhand. But the whole appeal of this thing — not just Apple’s version, but every one of these devices back to the Palm Pilot — was the idea of having an infinite notebook. It would keep track of everything I wanted to carry around with me, and be smart enough to keep it all organized. No device designed to be handheld is going to do that. The iPhone is great at keeping phone numbers, reminders, calendar appointments (entered on a desktop computer), web pages, and songs and videos for quick access, but it’s not great at data entry. Have you ever been at a meeting and tried taking notes with the iPhone or even a PDA? Or doing a quick sketch? It’s clearly not designed for it.

newtonpayphone.jpgPeople keep mentioning the Apple Newton in terms of what the new tablet won’t be. And you just have to watch this awesome “Getting Started” video to be reminded how much of the Newton mystique is due to nostalgia; even calling it “ahead of its time” might be a little too generous. The basic premise of a PDA is still valid, and it obviously did wonders for Palm for about a decade, but the notion of exactly what a PDA would do seems shockingly short-sighted in retrospect. That video is clearly a product of the early 90s: from Shoulder Pad Lady and Be-Earringed Goatee Guy sitting at a business meeting around an overhead projector, to the section on how easy it is to send faxes, to the guy struggling to use the Newton two-handed while talking at a pay phone.

Plus the obvious fact that half of the video is devoted to telling you how to use the thing. This isn’t like the Jobs-era how-to videos that Apple puts out, where a yuppie clad in black steps out of a white void to explain multitouch displays. Those are a combination of product branding, extended marketing, and an attempt to make the device as non-threatening as possible to the most technophobic of consumers. (That’s something else that’s made clear by the old Newton video — just how much more success Apple has had by targeting consumers instead of business people). For the majority of people, Apple’s how-tos aren’t strictly necessary. The company is obsessed — even to a fault — with making devices that you can just pick up and start using. The Newton’s big selling point was the handwriting recognition, and the failure of the handwriting recognition is the first thing anybody remembers about the Newton. That doesn’t signal “ahead of its time,” but “not ready for release.”

But the idea behind your basic interaction with the Newton is exactly the kind of thing I still want to see (and buy and use). Every demo I saw of the Newton back in the 90s defined what interacting with a personal computer should be like. You draw a line across the page, and it starts a new document. You scribble through a word and it disappears in a puff of smoke. You write notes and it understands not only the words you’re writing but the context — putting appointments into your calendar, phone numbers into your address book, sketches into a personal folder. (I’m not sure if that last part was possible or even conceived of back during the Newton days, or if it’s a more modern variation. Still, the demos made me believe that that was what was happening). You interacted with a page but weren’t limited to the page. It captured everything.

Plus I’d like to be able to draw on it, which requires a stylus. I’ve tried Autodesk SketchBook for the iPhone, and it’s about as good as a drawing program can get for a mobile phone, which is to say not very. Sure, if you already good at what you’re doing, you can probably get good results. If you’re a normal human with limited motor skills, then it’s frustrating. Because it’s not drawing, it’s finger painting.

And all this is leading me to suspect that the tablet won’t be about input at all. Apple’s had the bulk of its success not just by targeting the consumer market, but by targeting the consumer media market. The iPhone was originally described as three devices in one, but it’s really become one and a half: a communication device with a media player. (Or if you’re like me and never get or make phone calls, it’s reversed: a personal media player that can occasionally send text messages). All of the speculation about the tablet that I’ve seen seems to be gravitating towards its being a portable media player more than a personal computer — the talk is about how it’ll compete with the Kindle but add color and let you watch videos and revolutionize the newspaper, magazine, and/or comic book industry and even redefine page-based multimedia.

Which is all stuff you can do with a tablet PC. People complained about the iPhone being nothing but hype, because their existing cell phones could do everything the iPhone did. And the new smartphones coming out prove that there’s nothing inherently magical about the technology. But that’s missing the point: what was revolutionary about the iPhone wasn’t just the technology but the way the technology was used. The entire thing was designed with a purpose in mind and a specific interface in mind. The whole UI was designed around finger presses on a small screen, and all the functions from making phone calls to listening to music were designed to work in conjunction with each other (more or less). The reason things like the HP Slate won’t have the same mystique as the iPhone is because they take existing software and shoehorn it into a new form factor, instead of treating the whole thing as a single, unified device. All the new tablets coming out of CES aren’t ever going to be as big a deal as whatever Apple’s got planned, simply because they don’t take the same approach to their releases as Apple does. (A hybrid laptop/tablet running two separate OSes seems like a particularly goofy idea).

There’s no reason to believe that Apple wouldn’t do a fine job delivering another glorified ebook reader or “larger iPod touch,” or that it wouldn’t be every bit as polished as the iPhone and iPod Touch and the new iMac. I’d probably get one and use it and like it, and may even start reading again. But it wouldn’t be the “infinite notebook” I’m looking for.

The Microsoft Courier tablet — if it actually exists and ever comes out — could be just that. Looking at their demo video, I think that’s about 90% of what I want, minus all the shoes. They even use the term “infinite journal.” But there’s little indication of how long it’d be before something like that could get released, or how feasible the concept videos even are in the first place (I’m still highly skeptical about being able to drag things across two separate physical screens with a finger, for instance). And the whole thing, even in concept form, feels vaguely Microsoft-ish. Everything feels somewhat disjointed, and as if there’s more attention to slickness than usability. Even though I’m an admitted whore for all things Apple, I’ll more than gladly acknowledge when Microsoft gets stuff right: Windows Media Center blows away anything available for the Mac, and even the Zune appeals to me a lot more aesthetically than any of the iPod/iPhone variations. But nothing from Microsoft ever has that feeling of being a Grand Unified Vision; it all seems designed by committee, and the seams become more and more apparent the more you use it.

At least the Microsoft version would be guaranteed to have a better version of Solitaire. But at this point I’m thinking the device I really want to get will only ever exist in concept videos and in science fiction.

5 Comments

Did I Fall Asleep?

Complaining about the next-to-last episode of “Dollhouse.”

dollhouseasleep.jpg
Last week I made the prediction that the conclusion of the series-long storyline in “Dollhouse” wouldn’t make a bit of sense, but would at least show us a ton of cool moments along the way.

After seeing the next-to-last episode (“The Hollow Man”), I see that I was wrong on both counts. What I didn’t expect was that they’d come up with a resolution that actually kind of sort of made sense, at least in “Dollhouse” terms. What I did expect: everything else.

I kind of feel bad making fun of the series over a weak episode, considering it has had so many genuinely cool moments. But the team behind the series has managed to do this so well so many times in the past — getting screwed over by a network, facing cancellation, losing an actor or actress, having to rework the format of the entire series at the last minute — and ended up with something that wasn’t just serviceable, but memorable. This was just a string of predictable moments followed by the hero running away from an explosion. I can’t help but be disappointed by my own unreasonably high expectations.

Saying more requires spoilers for people who haven’t seen it, or people who aren’t as cynical as I am and enjoyed the penultimate episode just fine.
Read the rest of this entry »

Comment on this Post

Righting for vidoegaems

or, “Eat a dick, Owen Gleiberman!”

Owen Gleiberman, a “writer” for Entertainment Weekly, just discovered a bit of breaking news from three years ago: the Writers Guild of America actually gives out awards to people who “write” for videogames!

You can imagine his surprise: a union funded by the dues paid by its members would actually open its doors to a multi-billion dollar industry, bestowing honors upon “writers” to encourage storytelling excellence in videogames and also to encourage people to join the union. (You’re not eligible for the award unless you’re a member of the WGA, which even three years later is still relatively rare in the games industry). They actually treat these “writers” as if they were real professionals, almost as if they had real jobs like TV sitcom screenwriters or movie reviewers!

His article — and I use the term generously — focuses on the charming human interest story of li’l Gary Whitta, the screenwriter of The Book of Eli, who in addition to being one of the founders of the cute videogame magazine PC Gamer also “wrote” for videogames like Prey and Gears of War. I sure hope Whitta remembered to put on his big-boy suit when he made it up to the Big Leagues to work in TV and movies!

(Gleiberman, like most highly-paid journalists, investigated the story using Whitta’s wikipedia page. I expected so much more journalistic integrity from the acclaimed writer of “Dumplings of Justice.”)

After being condescending and dismissive of Whitta’s entire career for a paragraph, Gleiberman goes on to break the news:

What I had no idea of, until a press release that literally arrived an hour ago, is that videogame writing has now attained such prominence and prestige that it merits its own award…from the Writers Guild! The WGA nominations for Best Videogame Writing have just been announced: They include Assassin’s Creed I (story by Corey May; script by May, Joshua Rubin, and Jeffry Yohalem), X-Men Origins: Wolverine (script by Marc Guggenheim), and Uncharted 2: Among Thieves (written by Amy Henning). This might be an easy thing to mock, except that it really does make sense.

And you know, actually, Mr. Gleiberman is correct there. The idea that anyone in 2010 could earnestly state that videogame writing only achieved prominence once it merited an award from an organization made up mostly of people who don’t work in videogames — that is a very easy thing to mock.

So easy to mock, in fact, that you needn’t even mention that film criticism is such a widely (albeit unfairly) disregarded and dismissed field that anyone working in film criticism should know full well how ludicrous it is to see his career shown such a lack of respect. No, you can mock it merely by pointing out that the videogame industry has its own organizations with their own awards, and that they don’t need the acknowledgement of unrelated groups to “attain prominence and prestige.”

Or by pointing out that anyone who earned whatever prominence and prestige he has by working at a weekly magazine about pop culture, really should have played at least one videogame by now. Especially if he’s going to use the phrase “videogame writing” as a pejorative:

Why shouldn’t we honor the creators of videogame stories as writers in an entertainment universe where more and more credible Hollywood screenwriters are drawing their aesthetic inspiration from those very same games? And, of course, the standards are shifting even as we speak. Evaluated as a traditional Hollywood screenplay, Avatar, as I have argued on several occasions, is thin, derivative, serviceable, and vaporous. But taken in a different context, as a glorified act of videogame creation, it might well seem downright visionary.

And the frustrating thing about that is that it reveals Gleiberman is so hopelessly out of touch, it deflates any attempts to take it seriously and be offended by it. At least when a real film critic complains about the videogames, he acknowledges his preconceptions, and he demonstrates a real attempt to judge games by what they aspire to do. Gleiberman’s sneering at vapid videogames is so lazy and cliched, he might as well be complaining about the hippity-hop music or the evils of comic books or the dangers of billiards.

Not to mention conclusively proving that he hasn’t played a videogame since Tetris if even that. He uses Avatar as an example of the negative influence videogames have had on Hollywood (when it’s clear that it’s the kind of movie that “gamers” will just love), seemingly unaware that the problem is reversed. It’s because of the influence of James Cameron’s Aliens and Stephen Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan that videogame players have had to be space marines or had to raid Normandy over and over again for the past twenty years.

Clearly on a roll after his Avatar jab, Gleiberman goes on to point out that he watches real movies, making a weak attempt to disguise his pretentious O What a Cineaste Am I masturbation as a eulogy for Eric Rohmer. And he begins with the supposition “If the videogame mindset represents the most potent threat yet to the rich, classical 20th century ideal of what a screenplay can be….”

The most potent threat to the rich, classical 21st century ideal of what videogame writing (note the lack of sarcastic quotes, you pompous twat) can be is the pretentious sneering of people like Gleiberman, clinging to outdated notions of “high art” and “low art.” Instead of embracing the fact that we’re living in the age of unprecedented access to art and information of all types, available to inspire works of unprecedented richness, depth, scope, and accessibility. (And again: the man works for Entertainment Weekly, the bible of melting-pot pop culture. It boggles the mind).

But even more dangerous than self-satisfied outsiders like Gleiberman are the people within the industry who take attitudes like his seriously. Those self-hating game developers who aspire to other media for recognition and validation, instead of exploring what’s possible in interactive entertainment, simply mimicking what they’ve seen before instead of being truly inspired by it. Or those pretentious and self-serving game developers who assume they have nothing to learn from other media, that vapidity is the property of an entire medium, instead of just being the failing of an individual artist.

10 Comments

Saying Something

An attempt to inject some reason back into the question of “meaning” in videogames, plus an example of a hugely-popular game that’s already done it.

tf2deepermeaning.jpg
Over on his blog, my pretentious and dim colleague Sean Vanaman wrote a post claiming that videogames, like anything else, need to first decide what it is they’re about. It’s a similar sentiment to what Chris Remo posted last November on the Idle Thumbs blog and later revised and expanded on Gamasutra as “Looking for Meaning in Games”. And Chris’s posts were inspired in part by a keynote address by Chris Hecker advising game developers to first take a step back and ask themselves: “why am I doing this?”

It’s not a brand-new topic, and we’re going to be seeing more and more of it. In fact, all of the academic or esoteric or tedious and rambling essays about storytelling, or emergent narrative, or authorial control, or world building — even the ones I disagree with — are all basically getting at the same question: how can we push games forward as a medium?

The Great Debate That Shouldn’t Be

“Pushing games forward as a medium” seems like one of those vague, completely innocuous goals that absolutely nobody could object to. But thanks to the symbiotic (parasitic?) relationship between videogames and the internet, even a goal like that can become bafflingly contentious.

Even taking into account all the varying opinions on how to do that, exactly, there are the people insisting that it’s not even a good idea. “Games are an entirely new thing that operate on an entirely new set of rules.” (Or alternatively, that games predate traditional media and therefore aren’t subject to the same rules). That all leads to a rejection of any mention of Hollywood, followed by comments about “redefining the nature of ‘fun’” and then to a claim as ludicrous as “games are not media.”

Except the problem with that is that games are media. You can go on panels and stamp your feet and insist that the inherent beauty of game design has been corrupted by movies and comics and television, and that everything we need to know we can learn from Chess and Go. That doesn’t change the fact that people have been using games to tell stories ever since Colossal Cave Adventure back in 1976, and people have been buying those games since a few years afterwards. Telling them that they’re doing it all wrong, that the answer is all in enabling the player, or building virtual worlds, or the perennial “if you want to tell stories, you should be making movies, not games:” none of that changes the basic fact that there are plenty of us who want to make and want to play games that “work” like traditional media. It doesn’t add to or promote meaningful discussion; it’s noise. It’s the equivalent of the old joke about the guy who goes to the doctor and says “it hurts when I do this” and the doctor replies “then don’t do that,” except it’s not funny.

On top of that, whenever you talk about “meaning” in videogames, there’s always an outcry from the folks who insist that games don’t need to mean anything. I believe that that’s partly because trying to “redefine the nature of fun” and “develop new models of meaning” so often results in attempts that are dry, tedious, pretentious, and/or amateurish. If they result in anything at all, instead of just existing as pontifications on a blog or message board somewhere. That leads to the response, “what’s wrong with just being fun?”

And the answer is that there’s nothing wrong with that. And “meaning” shouldn’t have to take the form of a tedious high-concept game, or writing that seems pulled straight from a high school poetry journal. But even if it’s not particularly profound, there has to be something else, something that’s currently missing. There are plenty of us who are tired of seeing a medium with the potential of interactive entertainment keep getting relegated to just a “diversion” or “hobby.” As Chris Remo puts it:

[Games] do the “fun” thing well, and they frequently give me a lot to think about, but they rarely speak to me the same way a wonderful novel, film, or album does. I don’t as frequently feel that I’ve genuinely realized something about myself or my world in the same way I do when I read Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, watch “Mad Men,” or listen to The Who’s Quadrophenia.

I’d name-check different works of art, but I’m all on board with the sentiment. I’ve spent hours and hours playing games, and those moments of connection are few and far between. I’ve spent hours playing excellent games that do everything they set out to do, and yet I walk away feeling like I haven’t really accomplished anything, or learned anything. I’ve seen games that come so close to getting it right, but then stumble in one way or another. There’s nothing wrong with a “diversion,” but there has to be a way to make something more.

Intent

Chris ends his post with the conclusion “Intent seems like a great first step,” and I’d agree. I’d disagree with Sean that the question is “what is this game about?” since that’s too easily confused with a plot or story. Is Super Mario Bros “about” a plumber trying to save a princess? Plus it starts to break down when you try to apply it to games that have a consistent vision but don’t try to tell a story: to use Sean’s example, what is Team Fortress 2 about? Or Bejeweled?

The Chris Hecker talk referenced by Chris Remo’s article pulls the question back to “Why are you making this game?” That’s got its own problems, since that’s too easily answered with “because my company is paying me to” or “because the last one made a buttload of money.” That’s not just being flippant, either: that’s a mindset that’s pervasive at game companies, especially as the self-proclaimed “AAA” franchises price themselves out of the range of original IP. It’s also a question that’s so easily-answered a developer can be placated into thinking he’s solved the problem without doing anything. “Why am I making another match-three puzzle game? Because they’re fun, they’re accessible, and this one has [RPG elements/bombs/a wise-cracking companion/tits].”

I think the two questions developers should be asking themselves are:

  1. What am I trying to say?
  2. Why am I using a game to say it, instead of some other medium?

It’s still not perfect: what is Plants vs Zombies trying to say? But I think it’s pretty close. And I prefer it because it emphasizes a key point that’s not getting enough attention: videogames, like all media, are a form of communication.

Read the rest of this entry »

6 Comments