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The Medium is the Message. That statement has grown detached from the larger framework that spawned it overtime, reduced to the t-shirt slogan-verse that loses the substance somewhere in the cotton blend along with such other pearls as "E=MC2" and "Shit Happens". And it doesn't help that Marshall McLuhan's work is so dense that it is easier to take the apparent final summation as the stamp of comprehension for the man's life work.
So what the hell does it mean or matter, Doc? As a stand alone complex it is easy to take the word medium to mean a mode of media; radio, television, the Internet. That the intention then is to state that the means by which something is said determines what is being said. Often this is exactly what is interpreted, pulling the statement into an outdated argument of form vs. content until many declare that the message must be the medium. But that misses the point entirely.
McLuhan was focusing on the idea that every creation has obvious impact and change that was intended by the creator(s). But what he was far more interested in were those changes that were not foreseen or intended and often went unnoticed. He believed that these unobserved changes caused by a creation defined the true character of the creation, and were in fact the core nature of the thing in question. These unintended changes were ultimately the message of the creation. The medium was simply any creation that caused change. Often the direct content meant to pass through or as a result of the medium blinds us from the real character, the true message of the medium. What is being suggested is that we can only know the true nature, the character of a creation, or idea, via the unintended and less obvious changes that it creates around us or even within us. The message is the true potency and effect of a creation because it defies the intended impact and gives rise to unexpected, potentially chaotic change.
The "Get to the point Doc" relevancy of this for us isn't immediately obvious, which is one of the many reasons we have yet to touch it with a ten foot theory pole. But in the games as "art" / "entertainment" / "comparison to film industry" fifth circle of hell loop debate of our time, we have the means to get beneath all the distractions of medium content that works to blind us and reach the core of the real and pressing argument. If we want to know what the nature of games / gaming is, we only need to dig deeper and look harder for those unintended changes that have taken place as a result of the industry's development and implementation. We cannot be wrong in the conclusions from our search. We can immediately disregard original intentions in this search. It does not matter what companies, developers, visionaries, paper kings or wooden gods want us to believe. Their participation in the industry is of historical significance only, equaling nothing in the ideological identification of the new aesthetic culture. They may produce the direct content, but have no control over the final results.
Now I might argue that one unintended change was the grouping of people not nearly so linked by generational demographics as much as by a growing cultural identity. Perhaps rooted in marketed symbols and ideas, but fueled by more fundamental perceptions. The gaming industry has utilized elements of that identity and appropriated large portions of its spirit. Is this why we feel so strongly connected and invested in the industry? Because so many of the final productions are infused with a voice we know to be one with our own? Maybe that's why I get so pissed off at the state of the industry today. We have been the test subjects in the development of new technologies, new landscapes, relative not only to hardware advancements but the worlds and ideas created. But we are entitled to nothing for our participation. Any icons we cherish are registered trademarks that owe loyalty to the market masters over the ideals we place within them. Any new titles that may speak to our voice, is only corrupted by our embrace. Success causes industry dissection, replication, and market analysis spawning inferior replicants meant to further cash in on that connection.
But every technological advancement in the industry comes with unintended changes. The introduction of CD technology to the industry certainly appeared to open the door wider for us, when it seemed possible that all people interested might have access to create and distribute their ideas and creations. But that is not the case today. Corporate entities have sealed those doors, and now three companies essentially determine what will be produced, and thus attempt to define the medium for us. And of course there is a thriving indie universe of production that spreads across the Internet, providing unique voices and perspectives through titles available for the PC masses. But is the PC not a sad consolation for a console? Is there not something unique, an identity within a console, a focus that emerges from a console? What we truly require is a console that we can appropriate for our own purposes. One made independent from its original creators and intent. In short, a console for the revolution, and for the ultimate identity of our cultural collective. And the medium will be the message. The unintended impact of their intention is that they have delivered us the means of accomplishing this immense task.
Anyone familiar with my Sega fueled rants in the past now prepares to watch me hoist my Dreamcast into the air and proclaim that "I have a dream". Nothing would make me happier. But despite the significance of that gesture, the GDROM technology and lack of built-in Ethernet ultimately makes that impossible. The work of various factions within the unofficial framework of the DC Underground have been impressive to say the least. But it is a solitary experience where software is distributed via the Internet only to be burned and experienced independent of the community interaction necessary to take the movement further.
It is the uninspired and generic design of the original XBOX that best suits the current need of this ideal. The open PC nature of the hardware provides the necessary space for modifications while built-in Ethernet provides the ability to realize connections to a vast network that would allow each modified unit connection and interaction to all others.
It is only a matter of accepting the challenge. Of taking our mutual interests into our own hands and working collectively to define the new rules of the game. There is an opening, an opportunity for cultural change and the creation of a community independent of industry control. An autonomous zone where new ideas, media, and creative ventures flourish without the censorship of industry. And not only would independent game development thrive, but all other forms of creative expression would immediately have access to a new environment beyond market demands and legislative controls.
As lofty as the ideal may sound, it is the inevitable evolution and the only real direction for change. Whatever successful penetration into the industry has been made by outsiders must evolve to keep the razor edge of unique outsider status or ultimately collapse against the agenda of the industry. The status of the outsider will always be absorbed eventually into the industry and made to comply with the direction of corporate hive mentality.
So we have two paths stretching ahead of us. One road entrusted to the powers of old in new guises, where we have already seen the rewards for our passive acceptance and participation by their rules.
But the other may be the realization of the Global Village, where a tribal collective is finally realized and a new social organization can begin... read more
From his bunker in the remote Republic of Libyca, the Manic Gamer hits you upside the head weekly with his personal take on videogames and the industry. Hey, what else is there to do but game? And really, we can't stop him because he's locked the door to the studio. So please don't send us angry mail, we really have tried everything to get him out.
New Years was a crazy time for us around the bunker. But as well as celebrating, we also held a meeting to decide what our priorities for 2008 would be. One of these options was an idea for a series of video productions entitled 2097. The goal of the show would be to explore the gaming industry and the products they create through a cultural context. Seeking an evolving dialogue relating to issues that the industry faces as it begins to define and understand itself in relation to the world around it. We believe that future social and cultural upheavals will surface within this culture and are committed to exploring that pulse. To that end I get the opportunity to present the rough pilot episode we've created to test what is capable in regards to both the technology of the production and the content itself. While we will likely continue debating the end result for weeks, please enjoy the presentation and expect updates about the shows future very soon. So forgive technical glitches and enjoy the show!
In 1998 the Smithsonian Institution recognized the Virtual Fighter Series by adding it to their Permanent Research Collection on Information Technology Innovation. It remains an astonishing honor to the industry and its creator Yu Suzuki. It would be difficult to consider this achievement anything less, but writing from the fringes grants me the freedom to whack at the pinata. What the Smithsonian chose to recognize was a pioneering title for a genre of gaming, but also a series that is largely renowned for technical precision and meticulous design. However there is no exhibit devoted to Suzuki's other legacy, the meticulously designed and narrative enriched Shenmue. Not only did Shenmue provide epic storytelling, it created a real-time environment. A living, breathing world expanded around a freed player while additions such as weather systems brought new depth to the notion of virtual cities. Shenmue's North American release came after the induction of Virtual Fighter into the Smithsonian. So what am I getting at? For those interested I am saying that this was an initial attempt by the academy to determine the way in which this industry and the culture it is rooted within is discussed and understood. For those less interested and about to rock, I salute you.
Mainstream culture wants to "get" gaming, from the industry designers and creators, to the culture that ultimately supports it. The consequences of not "getting" it would be far reaching. Obviously many of these would be economic in nature. The failure to understand market trends and produce to those desires. But there is another segment of society that has a marked interest in comprehending this culture. The pressing interest of academics is often ignored in this conservation. Their desire to comprehend it is two fold. Certainly the economic interest is present relative to their careers. But above this is the necessity to validate their significance to society. If they fail to accomplish this then their irrelevance will only increase and ultimately isolate them from the debate and potentially call for their extinction. And this goes beyond participating in the debate. It is only in appropriating the dialogue and gaining the ability to control the debate that they function. The nature of the academy is to continue existing in their emerald cities, shielded from the realities of the world, determining how society will perceive the happenings of the world. They are the Skexes, seeking to extend their life through emerging cultures, and ours is becoming their dark crystal.
This is an incredibly personal issue for "us". At no level will it be palatable to have our culture appropriated, redefined and categorized, and spoon fed back to us on the terms of the powers of old and order. This medium was born with us, and as we grew and developed it did the same. And now as we face a world full of uncertainty, one that seeks to control us, it faces the same. Our fates are intertwined. And the final decisions in this matter will determine what happens to us both. It will decide whether we create a new reality, or become enslaved by the existing order. It absolutely cannot be left to the market or the academy to decide. Their post-modern stagnation has failed, leaving us adrift in a world where we fight nouns and the "great intellectuals" remain silent. We must at all times be in control of this decision.
This means that we must create the dialogue. The burden of proof is upon us to do so. Plenty have already done so. And having long remained silent myself, I recently began experimenting with the possibilities of voicing my thoughts and opinions regarding these issues. The response was both encouraging and positive, as well as crippling. No one wants to be among the first to attempt this. I certainly do not. It necessitates putting your head on the platter. Of exposing yourself to criticism. And yet the cost of not participating is too great for these fears to hold our tongues. But I am not introducing a manifesto here. It is not for me to tell anyone how to proceed. All I can do is continue to produce my voice. To declare this as my year zero, and the point from which I will no longer remain silent. This debate simply cannot exist without that participation from you. The industry begins and ends with you. Meaning is not inherent to their productions. It requires you to interact and derive meaning from it based on your experiences. And since we do this already, it is only one small step further to express and share these expanding experiences with those equally invested in this culture. This is the next stage that creates a dialogue, a shield from those that seek to absorb or mutilate our way of life. The next time someone's generalized or ignorant statement offends you, or when the next Jack Thompson emerges, and he or she will, this is the dialogue that will strike back at them.
City 17 is immediately presented as classic science fiction dystopia. I step from the train only to be herded by masked security forces and processed before entering the fortress. I catch half conversations alluding to other cities. The streets are deserted except for the patrols. I enter a housing flat to find worn civilians muttering to themselves and a couple sitting together on a sofa panicking about the soldiers that will soon break down the doors. Welcome to Half-Life 2.
Years before I would experience this game I came across an essay by social theorist Roland Barthes that has greatly impacted my perception of literature, film, and video games. It was entitled Death of the Author, wherein the central concept is that there is no situation in which an author creates an original work. It's a broad statement, but at it's core is a criticism against a reader's tendency to take any aspect of a work's creator(s) into account with the creation. He felt to do so placed a limit on the work. Instead we should move toward seeing a text, or subsequent media as an amalgamation of experiences and influences that preceded it. Anything I may write today is not to be seen as the original notions of a man who emerged from a vacuum, but as cultural influences and societal experiences that have merged within me and naturally emerge from my creations.
In this sense the world of half-life 2 is harmoniously sewn together from a long history of dystopian works and scientific ideas. Stepping into City 17 is immediately reminiscent of Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, the posters of Big Brother merely replaced by Dr. Breen and the propaganda of the Combine. One of the greatest advantages to the still relatively young video game industry is that it has been not only born from a growth of technological advancements but also that it benefits from a long history of social theory and cultural enlightenment. Victorian literature for example lacked the advancements of psychological discussion and was forced to often explore the internal through dreams because they lacked those ideas. Video games however have the immediate advantage of history on side, and developers can take their media savvy audience and place them within a complex society with little explanation and still expect the player to comprehend.
So when we enter City 17 we immediately recognize the scenario. But this does not deprive the player of the full experience. This is a new media opportunity to experience these ideas in a truly immersive sense. And We initially experience the oppression of the Combine without the means to defend ourselves and are ultimately at their mercy. We are not the gun carrying hero, but are instead equal with every other civilian being ushered into City 17. And this is really where Valve demonstrates Barthes' ideas and creates a science fiction masterpiece.
In the first Half-Life game we still played the role of Gordon Freeman. We start a typical day as a brilliant theoretical physicist which soon develops into a disaster as our experimental project causes a resonance cascade and creates dimensional rifts through which aliens begin invading the earth. I don't know about you but I can totally relate to that because it happened to me last week.
Half-Life was an incredibly successful entry into the genre of first person shooters and set the foundation for the narrative directions Valve would take. But despite the means by which it differentiated itself, it is still an action game. We play as Gordon, fighting our way past aliens, brain sucking parasites and the military in our quest to reach the surface of the facility and ultimately to survive. However there is never a deep attachment in which one really feels that they are Gordon Freeman. But then how does the sequel differ?
In Half-Life 2 we emerge from a train again, but with no idea why we have been brought to this place and no real comprehension of why the world is the ruin of ash that it is. We know that it must stem from the events ending Half-Life, but the history of the events in between remain unknown to the player. We don't know because Gordon doesn't know, and we enter this game having become Gordon Freeman. And what begs to be asked in all of this is whether or not Gordon Freeman is a hero.
Blade Runner has recently been given the full DVD treatment, and remains the most prominent example of science fiction film making as a key film in influencing the genre for decades after it's initial release. And among the many elements that it introduced to the genre was the idea of the protagonist as the anti-hero. Rick Deckard is essentially a police employed assassin working to hunt down renegade replicants. And for all the menace of that image the audience watches as Deckard plays against the conceptions built around the idea of what a hero is. Deckard only accepts the assignment when there is no choice left to him. If he loses his gun along the way he is likely to run. He introduced film audiences to the human condition collected within a realistic character. He presented us with aspects of ourselves, which may be part of the reason the film initially did so poorly.
In the same way Gordon Freeman did not choose to come to City 17. In fact throughout the game Gordon doesn't choose any direct course of action. He is continually thrust into situations beyond his control in which the player takes control in order to try and do the one thing Gordon is always working toward, to simply survive. And through all of this we meet characters who revere Gordon and regard him as a hero. The story of his survival has become an epic legend of a man leading a resistance against the Combine. But none of these people have witnessed Gordon's deal with the G-Man or have any real knowledge of where Gordon has come from or what he wants to do. So who is Gordon Freeman?
The answer can only be that we are. Whenever we pick up the controller and enter City 17 we take on the role of Gordon Freeman. And so the question as to whether he is a hero can only come from each individual player that puts on his suit and picks up a crowbar. And this continues the second half of Barthes' idea. That the reader of a work, the one experiencing the creation, is the one who will ultimately bestow meaning upon it. That every experience we have had and every perspective we have come into contact with influences what we will take from the work. My Gordon Freeman is not the same as your Gordon Freeman. For instance, mine does not lunge into a firefight with the Combine. He prefers to take cover and carefully plot a means to take them out from a safer distance. When the Combine attack the power plant and Gordon is forced toward Ravenholm, my Gordon hesitates. He stares at the dark corridor ominously because he just knows he doesn't want to go there while Dog patiently holds the door open. And believe me when I say that when my Gordon reaches the depths of Ravenholm he becomes incredibly nervous and fires blindly as drain spouts shake and alien skeletons lunge toward him.
Of course Half-Life 2 is part of a long series of first person shooters where you "take on" the role of the protagonist. But Gordon's complete lack of dialogue and choice establish our place as him and prevent the snappy one-liners that spoil the illusion in so many other titles. But it is much more than this that puts us into the suit.
The narrative direction of Half-Life 2 is immediately relatable to our experience even though our experiences differ. It speaks to the greater human experience. It presents us with a world we have no control over and very little understanding of. We are dropped into the centre of it and expected to survive. And for all the people that want to help us it seems there are always more working against us. It seems we never make a real choice about what we are doing, only the way in which we do it. And yet no matter what we do we seem to get to where we need to be. We react more than anything, hoping that it will lead to a beneficial resolution. Whenever we feel that we are in control, there is someone to remind us that we are not. And even if we wanted to change the world, at the end of it all we can only try to do the best that we can and hope that it makes a difference. read more
During the Xbox 360 launch someone told me that Microsoft had engaged focus groups in Japan wherein they were asked who they thought had designed a logo free 360. When the answer came back predominantly in favour of Apple they grinned with the fresh smile of success that proceeded their natural incompetence. Is that true? Hell I don't know, but it's a good story.
Who doesn't love Apple products enough that they would want to be compared to them after all? Me for one. You can often find me drooling over them and wanting to get my hands on all their shiny creations. But the long standing closed architecture nature of the company has always kept their toys out of my house. I'd own an ipod if I didn't have to use itunes and could replace the battery myself. But for all the hip ads Apple is another secretive corporation. You have to be if you want to succeed I think. Having people hack and slash your products isn't very profitable from what I've seen of it.
When Sega launched the Dreamcast there's no way they foresaw what it would become. Yea, I'm the zillionth person saying that the Dreamcast isn't dead. It's half dead. It's free and clear of the original idea as nearly every game that graced it has continued on other platforms. I in fact largely ignored it when it launched. I had my Playstation between exams and wasn't that interested in 3D Sonic games even though I'd grown up on the genesis and owned a hedgehog (no I didn't name it Sonic her name was money-penny). But what I missed at full price then I got for $25 a few years later. And what I got that day was far more than I had expected.
As far as seizing the means of production, the Dreamcast is an icon of 21st century socialism. For starters I doubt there will ever be another system than accidentally affords a gamer the chance to play so many games with little more than a copy of discjuggler and a spindle of blank cds. Not that I endorse that sort of thing mind you, but in doing so one would be beyond simply seizing the way a product is made. What is being seized is what truly builds a society. It is the evolved act of socialist ideals, seizing the means of cultural production, if games are finally considered not just a cultural phenomenon, but indeed the evolution of media where all forms of art and expression finally merge in a medium offering complete immersive interaction. In many ways culture should be free. Culture is the result of people, and people are entitled to it. All the price tags in between keep too many from participating in the inherent rights of a societal conversation and thereby the experiment they live within. Hey I know people gots to get paid, I certainly like to. But if the bourgeois classes that can afford the newest consoles determine industry prices and leave the rest of the masses waiting years for price drops, then the Dreamcast is the first machine to accidentally equalize all members of a gaming society out of the box. The first part of its longevity shifted the emphasis from how much money you could spend toward how knowledgeable a gamer could become in order to exploit the opening. And certainly any system can be modified to afford the same advantages, but again the out of the box nature of the Dreamcast to do so places it in an entirely different class.
Aside from nostalgia, no other system has created the kind of community that the Dreamcast has. From a continued flow of imports long after North American market death to home-brews and cd magazines, the Dreamcast has grown beyond the console label and become a cultural icon. And it all seems so accidental that I'm willing to believe the machine had a destiny from the day it was conceived. The only regret is the knowledge that aspects of its underground longevity also doomed its commercial success as far as Sega is concerned. And though I am equally upset that it ended Sega's hardware development it also became something greater than the company that created it. The Dreamcast became a machine that belonged to the people. A device that they could claim and make uniquely their own. And at the same time that defiant act of individuality also created new communities of shared interest and connection around that symbol of cultural freedom and gave rise to a revolution that continues into another generation of gaming. read more
Guitar Hero 3 showed up xmas morning. I didn't have a tree this year because there was great concern that the kittens would come to some harm from strung lights and plastic stems. Presents were stacked in a corner of the living room instead, and I hadn't expected to peel back wrapping and find Slash calling me on. Usually if I get any games over the holidays someone asked for a potential title, I'm definitely a pain to shop for. And even though the game was meant to surprise me, it has left me so conflicted only the medium of the blog could begin to clear my mind of the haze it has caused. I know it was given to me because I own the previous two installments, and I realize three times lucky is the theory behind this, but for some reason that dog just isn't going to hunt Monsignor!
The game remained wrapped for several days, not that I'm not grateful but I had just gotten Odin Sphere, and need I say more? But the g/f prevailed on me to check the track list. Pearl Jam, Weezer, Muse, and a bonus track from the Kaiser Chiefs had me cracking the case open faster than she could dust off our guitars. Long story short I played through on medium and didn't hit too many snags until knights of cydonia shut me down just as I fancied myself the next Murdoc Niccals, and I had to stop licking the guitar and put my clothes back on.
So what's the problem?
That's just it, putting a finger to it is harder than reaching for that elusive orange fret button. At first my complete disinterest in the game was fuelled by my drooling anticipation for Rockband and a fervent belief that Activision couldn't create a hit just by plugging a wide mix of songs into the formula and throwing money at it. Of course the game was going to sell big, even if the number of people who own it and also know nothing of Rockband shocks me. I don't want to say that Harmonix's absence is biassing me, but returning to the previous two reminded me of a subtle charm that seemed lost on this latest installment.
I want to say that what made guitar hero great was that anyone could pick it up and start playing. That it was so well designed that it made sense to nearly any hand that touched it. At the same time I didn't know a lot of people who owned the first when I did. There was something great about that at the time too. We had a secret cramped finger handshake and everything. People watched you at the checkout counter with that long box and thought "what the hell is that?" Now that people's parents are telling me how much fun it is and bragging about their mad gamer skills I've admittedly lost my attachment to it. Which is terrible. I don't want to be the guy who only likes a band until it breaks through. But there is something to that, because with a greater audience it is often the case that the difficulty becomes lowered to make it accessible.
Having gone back to the previous versions I can feel a difference, but still lack the finesse to say what it is. At times the game feels easier and slower in pace, and at other points the positioning of notes seems ridiculous and makes no sense beyond trying to cripple both my hand and my performance. The only conclusion that remains for me is that the word I am looking for will have to be Harmonix, and that for everything the game may do well it still suffers for the lack of that. And keep in mind I'm likely ten kinds of high because commercial success will ensue and guarantee another, but I have faith that I'll find the soul I'm yearning for elsewhere and be content moving on to playing with the band. read more
Pata-Pata-Pata-Pon
Star Ocean Till the End of Time
Rogue Galaxy
Transformers Armarda, yeaaaaaaaa!
Dragon Quest VIII
Splashdown Rides Gone Wild
Star Wars Starfighter
Twisted Metal Head-On Extra Twisted Etc Etc
ChuChu Rocket (DC)
Sonic Adventure (DC)
Code Veronica (DC)
Tiny Tank
Twisted Metal (longbox)
Loaded (longbox)
Dirge of Cerberus
Blood Will Tell
WipEout (saturn)
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