The following quote illustrates the tension between public perception of law versus the systems that actually exist: “Sure, I know I was breaking the law but there seems to be things more important than the law, at least to me in my private tragedy.” Gilbert v. State,  Fla. Dist. Ct. App. 1986 487 So. 2d 1185, 1188 (Fla. Dist. Ct. App. 1986).

The quote comes from a tragic case. The appellant, 75 year-old Roswell Gilbert, killed his wife of 51 years and was given what amounted to a life sentence in a lower Florida court. On appeal, the court held that good faith euthanasia is not a defense to murder. The court of appeal affirmed the lower court decision.

Roswell described his motivation for the killing as follows: 

"As she lay on the sofa, she said, 'Please, somebody help me. Please, somebody help me.' [...]

Who's that somebody but me, you know, and there she was in pain and all this confusion and I guess if I got cold as icewater [sic] that's what had happened. I thought to myself, I've got to do it, it's got to be mine, I've got to end her suffering, this can't go on."

Id. The court recognized the extraordinary circumstances around the murder. Even though the court knew of Roswell's motives, there was nowhere to put those factors in the weighing of guilt or innocence: 

"[T]his aged defendant has been a peaceful, lawabiding [sic] and respected citizen up until this time. No one has suggested that he will again kill someone or enter upon a criminal career. However, the absolute rigidity of the statutory mandatory minimum sentences do not permit consideration of these factors or, for that matter, they, different from the sentencing guidelines, do not take into account any mitigating circumstances."

 Id., 1192. There is a missing element of humanity in this particular instance of law. Was there justice in sentencing this man to jail for life? Should his motives have mattered legally despite no precedent or statute supporting such a legal theory? Should the populace bear the responsibility of shaping the legal system through political action?

art is an idea expressed between to minds. art is better when the idea expressed is understood to be the same. to say that this picture the best thing a person has ever seen, then it must be that this picture is the closest place two minds can be regarding single idea

on game design salesmanship

This morning, I read a statement issued by a developer working on a DotA clone. This individual spoke ill of the burden of knowledge a game can expect from the player, and argued for the virtues of design based around "salesmanship" and avoiding potential confusion. The whole post feels like a long insult. These design choices are removing everything that made DotA popular, the learning curve, lack of streamlining, freedom and consequence in terms of mechanics (read anti-combos and false choices in the linked article.) Mystery, confusion and frustration adds to the experience--the purpose of playing a game should be just playing, not to gain points or fill summoner's pages first to begin the experience.

About ten years ago, I would have been all-too-eager to say that in the video game industry, unlike in movies and television, the biggest names in the industry produce the best titles. Names like Capcom, Squaresoft, Bungie, Blizzard, Electronic Arts were synonymous with quality. Despite broader opportunities through more advanced technology, today's industry is in creative decay- a dark age of DLC, DRM and casualization. In this respect, one of the only remaining colossi is Nintendo, an ancient reminder of brighter days.

There are a number of reasons behind this shift, the first being the expansion of the market, and the pursuit to appeal to the lowest common denominator. The pursuit is not negative in itself, universal appeal is universal appeal. However, it appears that it is far too easy to err on the side of over-casualization rather than innovation in the pursuit of popularity, and this is where there is a conceptual divide between video games and other modern media.

A videogame is more like a book than a movie. The consumer interacts with the product (or, better yet, the viewer interacts with the piece) for a long period of time. The time period of engagement grants the opportunity to create meaning through experience, rather than solely through story, visuals and sound. This is what makes the medium stand on its own, rather than being just a complicated toy or an extension of former outlets. Despite this opportunity, far too many modern games rely on the latter rather than the former. The "creative forces" behind AAA development are fundamentally misguided if the purpose is to create meaning through experience.  To add insult to injury, the business models behind these are abhorrent (refer to Sim City, Xbox One DRM, etc.) Fuck design based around salesmanship, whether the pandering is in a creative or a financial sense.

In contrast, one can examine Super Mario Brothers 3, Age of Empires 2, Megaman and MMX, Pokemon, Dwarf Fortress, Defense of the Ancients, Dark Souls, etc. All these incite passion from the player without relying on  snappy one liners to repeat online, in-game cultural references and hand-holding gameplay or constant notifications reassuring the player of progress to create a sense of achievement. Even today, it takes more than a few months of playing to understand DotA, which is why this single, community created map has spawned an entire multi-million dollar genre. This is what I mean by experience, and there is no other way to achieve this experience without respecting the player's intelligence and providing a digital space with choice and consequence. Design should be focused within these boundaries, not just in presentation.

I've had entire days ruined from playing Dark Souls, and I have also had entire days made from playing it--I still get shivers when I hear The Lord of Cinder's theme. I've strained friendships over fighting games. My neck hurts sometimes when I play DotA because I get so involved, and I've been playing for seven years. That pain is love, and that can't be bought or sold.

the mending of the severed extremity that links the hivemind

Strong recommendation for "1Q84." The book touches on the significance of vivid memories of insignificant events one carries through his or her life, with people one cannot call a friend.

“Not that I want to see him again or anything. I really don’t. We wouldn’t have anything to talk about, for one thing. It’s just that I still have this vivid image of him ‘pulling rats out’ of blocks of wood with total concentration, and that has remained an important mental landscape for me, a reference point. It teaches me something—or tries to. People need things like that to go on living—mental landscapes that have meaning for them, even if they can’t explain them in words. Part of why we live is to come up with explanations for these things."

I hope I'm in your landscape.

I called on Dr. Johnson one morning, when Mrs. Williams, the blind lady, was conversing with him. She was telling him where she had dined the day before. "There were several gentlemen there," said she, "and when some of them came to the tea-table, I found that there had been a good deal of hard drinking." She closed this observation with a common and trite moral reflection; which, indeed, is very ill-founded, and does great injustice to animals -- "I wonder what pleasure men can take in making beasts of themselves." "I wonder, Madam," replied the Doctor, "that you have not penetration to see the strong inducement to this excess; for he who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.Anecdotes of the Revd. Percival Stockdale; collected in "Johnsonian Miscellanies," edited by G.B. Hill Ballade of Soporific Absorption J.C. Squires.

          "What the fuck am I reading?"

             -Doctor Johnson, 1256 A.D.

The benefits of looking through old cell phones

"'We know life, Sal, we're growing older, each of us, little by little, and are coming to know things. What you tell me about your life I understand well, I've always dug your feelings, and now in fact you're ready to hook up with a real great girl if you can only find her and cultivate her and make her mind your soul as I have tried so hard with these damned women of mine. Shit! shit! shit!' he yelled."
On the Road


Old notes, same mindset

two stories

A Night Ride, I

A few years ago I would ride my old bike to my friend's house and back after my night classes. I would get home at 10, and ride north on Santa Anita. Since the ride was around 40 minutes it gave me the perfect opportunity to check out new albums. I would get to my destination tired, grab dinner and watch bad late-night TV or good movies, talk about nothing, say a series of odd inside jokes and go home around 130 AM. Even though a few parts of the ride around the freeway were sketchy, my bike was in bad enough condition to incite pity from the vilest of characters. But I never took the wash home, as that would be asking for trouble.

On this particular night, my bike had been squeaking more than usual. The chain had fallen off on the previous ride and had been making noises since. Despite this I felt confident, I had a new Naked City album whose name I cannot remember, "In the court of the Crimson King," and Wilco's "Being There." For the entire ride, I was alone with the early October wind.

I listened to half of "Being There" on the ride north so it followed logically that I listened to King Crimson on the way back..


---

Brown Noise

On my usual filing route I take the subway Downtown and then back to the office. I enjoy the metro as much as anyone else--I get to my destination quickly and I can usually listen to music, read or play a game on my phone while being transported. Common sense encouraged  me to remain vigilant through the monotony despite the relative safety of the mechanocaverns. I am thankful for this shred of common sense.
I entered the rail car, second or third to the last on my way back. I sat and read "White Noise." Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a young guy, no older than 18, wearing an oversized brown hoodie. Before a minute had passed I was almost certain he was on a stimulant: the telltale tweaks told me everything I needed to know. I tried keeping an eye on him even if he was behind me. At every stop he would walk to the opposite exit of the car jitter and mutter to himself, cover his face completely with his hood and hold his head as if he were trying to comfort himself.  At the W&V stop, he walked back to my natural line of sight. He repeated his ritual again, expect this time he pulled a metal object out of his backpack; I could tell because he clanked it against a railing as he was pulling it out. At W&N, the nest stop, he walked towards the front again. As he walked past me this time I caught his scent: dirt, sweat and unwashed clothes, much like a homeless person but not quite as pungent.

I turned my head slightly and caught the sight of the object in his hand--before I could make out what it was a guy (holding out a skateboard in front of himself, as if ready to strike or defend himself) said in a loud and clear voice: Why do you have a knife, my boy? He quickly replied, in an aggressive tone peculiar to Angelino schoolchildren: Because, in case anyone gets around me. I confirmed that not only was this armed individual intoxicated but he was upset and scared. The guy holding the skateboard said: You should get off the train. The vagrant replied quickly once again: That's the point. The two of them exited the subway, but on a twist to his routine, the knife wielder re-entered through the rear doors. He passed by me once again. I had sat through this dialogue in a shock;--fear isn't the right word, but I was in a heightened state of alarm. Other people had already left, but I stayed inside expecting him to stay at the station. The automated voice began to speak: PLEASE CLEAR THE EXITS, THE DOORS ARE CLOSING.


--

A Night Ride, II

Things took a turn for the macabre when I began my homeward playlist with Naked City. About 10 minutes into the ride, still well into the suburbs, I decided to switch over the "In the court" to lighten the mood of the ride.

Perhaps it was the name of the band, the music I was listening to before it, the fact that I was out sometime after 2 AM on a less-than-reliable bike without lights; but I could not get myself to listen to that album. Fear isn't the right word, but I was in a heightened state of alarm. I heard the entirety of "Being There" that night. Needless to say, I never listened to "In the court of the Crimson King" entirely.