Monday, February 28, 2005
 
What does Heaven look like?
So, I saw "Constantine" recently (in fact, I saw it twice, because I love the story), and I noticed something odd. Well, odd in the societal sense, not in the "why is there a demon riding on the bus?" sense. There's already plenty of that.

In this movie, there are a plethora of demons. There's a scene with a swarm of them in the air, a weird demon made up of bugs and vermin, the eurotrash demon, and the standard group of Anne Rice-vampire demons (what is the collective term for vampires? A pride? A gaggle? A murder? No, I think I'll use 'a clutch of vampires'). In fact, the movie even ranks demons and gives them names (Half-breed, soldier demon, Balthazar).

Two angels. Two. And only one gets a name. Now, granted, that angel is a pretty pivotal part of the story (and my personal favorite character). Still, only two angels in the entire story. The neutral witch doctor gets more screen time than they do.

In "Constantine" we spend roughly 2-3 minutes in Hell. And I must say, they did a damn fine job representing Hell. However, while the movie makes multiple trips to hell and spends about two percent of it's film-time there, we only get to see Heaven for about ten seconds. Heaven is seen from a great distance, and we just get a vague idea what it's like.

The devil gets about 3-5 minutes of airtime. He cavorts and japes, and pretty much acts like you would expect the devil to act (although, I don't get that outfit). He chats, he deals, he whines and threatens. Meanwhile, God doesn't even get a walk-on role.

I guess, what I'm getting at is, why is it so much easier to display evil than it is to display good? We get evil in movies and TV all the time. To use Keanu in another example, the movie "Devil's Advocate" spends the entire time revolving around the devil (masterfully played by Al Pacino), while not showing a single minion of God. Pacino raves against God, but we get no rebuttal.

Now that I think of it, there are so many examples, it's funny. We seem to take evil seriously, but we barely touch on good.

From the dark side, The Omen, The Exorcist, The Prophecy, Legend. From the side of good, Bruce Almighty, Angels in the Outfield, Touched by an Angel, and Heaven can Wait. So, the Devil is horror and drama, God is sappy comedy.

Sadly, the last movie I can think of that really explored the nature of "good", or dared to feature God as a serious character, was a John Freakin' Denver movie!!!

That's right. Go watch the old "Oh, God" movie again. It's dated, but the part where George Burns starts answering questions is sheer genius. It stands out because you had a Hollywood movie that actively presented God's position.

It seems like you can only show God in one of two ways. The first is to make a movie that trivializes God to a simplistic caricature of a spunky grandfather (see Bruce Almighty). This is the route that almost all movies will take. It's safe, it tests well in the bible belt, and doesn't offend anyone.

The other way is to make a ballsy movie that speaks unflinchingly about your own personal view of God. Let's call this the "Passion of the Christ" method. While it is incredibly one-sided and exclusionary, this method is the best way we, as a culture, can advance. And, when it is done with the fervor that Mel feels for his God, it can make the world take notice.

If I can digress for a moment, I should also note another great film, forwarding the cause of religious thinking, "Dogma". It may seem odd to talk about one of Kevin Smith's Jay & Silent Bob movies as a serious treatise on religion, but just look at the story. We have fallen angels, the metatron, cherubim and a muse. We see a 13th apostle, and discuss the idea that Jesus was black. As far as making people think about religion, I think Dogma was incredible (however, they really dropped the ball when Alanis Morissette showed up).

Anyway, back to God's screen time. Think of what Hell looks like. There, that was easy, wasn't it? Lots of smoke, fire, dark caves with dangerous looking stalactites, people being whipped for no reason, or doing manual labor that has no purpose, guys with pitchforks laughing as they torture people, and a red filter over the whole thing. Easy!

Now, picture Heaven. No, really think about what it's like. Not as easy, is it? Most people picture Olympus, with everyone standing on clouds, wearing togas for some odd reason, and constantly watching the panoply of human strife. Do they have books in Heaven? If so, why? Don't you have access to all knowledge and wisdom? Do they play sports, and if so, how do they get around the idea of violent competition? Do they listen to real music, or is it really just harps? Why togas?

The problem is that people have a really good idea of what Hell is like, because they just lump together all the things they hate about Earth into one experience. However, they can't really picture Heaven, because most people define 'good' as a lack of evil. How do you lump a "lack of evil" into one experience, without making it look incredibly boring?

And what about God? When most people think of God, the first thing they think of is asking questions. The really religious people will think of supplicating first, but eventually, they come around to the idea of asking the questions that never seem to be appropriately answered (why must innocent children die? Why must people suffer at all?). Would it be possible to come up with a character that actually can answer these questions, can expand people's understanding of what it means to be good, and even make it seem attractive to people? Could you really make a character who is good, and inspires people to emulate him? Inspires them to give of themselves?

I think most writers say, No. They really can't. Or at least, it's just too hard to try. And that's how we get things like "Bruce Almighty".

By the way, if you ever get a chance, check out the British mini-series called "The Second Coming". It's about a guy who, on his 30th birthday, realizes that he is the son of God. The show asks the question, if Jesus came back now, would we be able to handle it? What would we do? The show takes no easy shortcuts, it flinches from no difficult questions, and it seriously makes you think about religion.

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Sunday, February 27, 2005
 
So you wanna be a game programmer?
Occasionally, I'll get a question along the lines of, "How do I break into video games?"

After many iterations, this is the answer that I think works best:

There are many paths to breaking into games. Personally, I applied to
every video game company I could find as soon as I graduated college.
I ended up moving across the nation to work as the first junior
programmer Microprose had ever hired. For that path to work, you have
to be willing to accept low pay, long hours, and hard work just to
prove that you can do it.

Another path I've seen is to work your way up from another job. Many
people graduate from QA into development. Usually, they become
designers or artists, but programmers are not unheard of.

What I think is probably the path of least resistance, is to write
your own games, sell them or give them away, and use them as proof of
experience in a job interview. Remember, the most important thing in
applying for a game programming job is experience. Game Programming is
not exactly like any other type of programming, because it is heavily
user-centric, heavily random, and heavily optimized for speed (many of
the best speed hacks have come from video game programmers).

It may seem daunting to say 'write your own games', but I'm not saying
that you have to write a AAA title by yourself. Consider writing a
smaller, common game (Battleship, Reversi, Space Invaders, Pong), then
extending it to show that you know how it works (make the game
multiplayer, put in your own special effects, improve the gameplay to
make it the way you think the game 'should have been made'). There are
books out there that show how to write games, specifying what needs to
be done for the gameplay engine, graphics, sound, networking, and AI
(Andre LaMothe is making serious bank on the subject). You probably
only need to read one to understand the underlying code path that most
games follow. The most important thing is to have a product that plays
well, looks smooth, and shows that you know how to put the game
together.

Another path to writing your own game is to build it off of someone
else's engine. For $100 USD, you can buy a licence for the 'Torque'
engine from GarageGames.com. This is an engine that has been used for
several professional games, and has a lively development community.
It's easier to look at a fully-developed FPS engine, and think of ways
to enhance it than it is to write your own from scratch.

Once you've got your game (or games) developed, apply to companies
near you, and don't get discouraged. With recent layoffs in several
major game studios, there is more experienced talent than there are
jobs, so it's pretty cutthroat.

P.S. I hate to burst your bubble, but I can almost guarantee you that
you are walking into a pay scale far lower than you had before. I
can promise you hard work, long hours, aggravating company politics,
and no bonus. They will tell you that there's a bonus scheme in place,
but after seven years in the industry and three shipped games, I have
never received a bonus for shipping a game. Bonuses always disappear
in the detailed definition of the bonus system, or they are delayed
until people stop asking for them.



So, anyone have anything to add to that? Bruce, I know you read this occasionally, and you're a pretty clever game programmer. Anything I left out?


Update: Sam de Pauw pointed out something I'd missed. Talent. It's pretty easily recognizable and absolutely crucial to video game development. The most fool-proof way to recognize talent is by job experience. In an interview, experience says more about your worth than your appearance, social skills, or educational background.

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Friday, February 18, 2005
 
Cory Doctorow's "I, Robot"
About a year ago, news came out that Ray Bradbury was demanding Micheal Moore rename his film "Fahrenheit 911", because of the (obviously intended) similarity to his own book "Fahrenheit 451". As a kind of response, or way of thumbing his nose at the absurdity of the idea, Cory Doctorow started writing short stories based closely on other great Sci-Fi works.

For instance, his first short story "Anda's Game" was similar to Orson Scott Card's most famous work, "Ender's Game" not only in name, but also in the theme of the work. In "Anda's Game" Ender's Battle School became a Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game (MMORPG), and once again, it was a child in this virtual world that was faced with terrible choices and forced to make huge decisions. Doctorow does not crib everything from Card, though. The situations are distinct, the choices and characters are unique, and in the end, Cory Doctorow shows that he can write well in anybodies world. I think one of the most amazing things about this story, was that Doctorow drew not only from "Ender's Game", but also from real events that are changing the shape of MMORPG's and industrializing nations in our own world.

However, I didn't come here to discuss that story (that mini-review was more of a tangent). I wanted to talk about his newest release, a short story titled "I, Robot".

This short story takes as its source the Isaac Asimov world of Robotics, where the three laws rule. Once again, we are following the life of a police detective who has no great love of Robots (obviously taken from Asimov's character 'Elijah Bailey'). Once again, Robots play a huge part in the story. However, this is not just another Robot novel. Cory Doctorow adds to this story in the best possible homage. He questions the very fundamentals of the three laws, just like Asimov did.

In almost all of the Robot novels, we were presented with quandaries involving problems with the three laws, and showing how they can be manipulated or overridden to make Robots malfunction (usually causing the injury or death of a human). In Doctorow's work, we are presented with a larger question. Aren't the three laws, or rather, a totalitarian application of those laws, already a danger to humanity?

Doctorow subtly points out how the basic assumption behind Asimov's world is that the three laws must be imposed by a totalitarian governmental dictate. For instance, in Asimov's universe, only U.S. Robotics was allowed to build Robots, and the government oversaw many levels of development. Further, Doctorow ties this in with current examples of Digital Rights Management, and shows how any technological oppression will spawn a black market as freedom breaks through all barriers.

Doctorow even ties the analogy up tightly by referring to George Orwell's "1984", naming his nations "Eurasia" and "Oceania". While keeping a taut, quick-moving "Blade Runner" detective story feel, Doctorow manages to remind us in almost every passage how only a benevolent fascism could create Asimov's world.

As is necessary for a short story, there are huge, sweeping changes happening to individuals over a short time. The characters themselves are almost cliche' in their characterizations (The gruff cop, the rebellious teen, the smarmy pencil-pusher), but this is a necessary device for a short story, and one which Doctorow handles well by giving the characters lively dialogue. As always, Doctorow's narrative description is dense and visceral, reminding the reader less of "Blade Runner", and more of Neal Stephenson's "Snow Crash".

Doctorow also shows off his talent for "visual writing", by creating one of the most believably futuristic action scenes since the first chapter of Robert Heinlein's "Starship Troopers". There is something exhilarating about watching a thought exercise explode into actions that shock the reader with both their impossibility and inevitability.

Cory Doctorow's "I, Robot" is a compelling argument against Digital Rights Management, a thrilling story of a father fighting to protect his daughter, and an excellent sci-fi story in general. Take a half-hour to read it online. You'll be perusing it for days.


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Monday, February 14, 2005
 
Liberté de Squirrel
So, I'm standing on my roof, measuring the distance from to the ground by dropping a rope, and wondering, "What is one unit squirrel length?"

A little bit of backstory. This morning, our dogs started freaking out when they heard squirrels running down our roof. That's not really unusual, the squirrels know the dogs can't get up there, so they taunt the dogs from the roof.

However, we suddenly hear a scrabbling thump coming from our chimney. The dogs are there in an instant, barking at the empty chimney. My wife and I know that the flume is closed, so there's no chance that the squirrel is going to get in, so we wait a bit, and let the dogs sniff around the chimney as much as they want.

From the sporadic bursts of scrabbling, scratching noises, we quickly determine that the squirrel is trapped in there. He's not going anywhere. We briefly consider trying to trap it. I got the brilliant idea of taking all the cardboard boxes we've been storing, and building a tunnel from the chimney to the door, which the squirrel could run through. My wife just shakes her head at that, and tells me to call Animal Rescue. She says,"They know how to deal with this kind of thing."

When I get through to them, and explain the situation, the person at Animal Rescue says, "Oh, that's an easy one. Just throw down a rope ladder."

I stop and cock my head to one side, still holding the phone to my ear. After a brief pause, I say, "Um. I don't think I have a rope ladder."

She says, "Just get a length of knotted rope, and drop it down the chimney from your roof. The squirrel will climb the rope, and get out."

"Okay, but you do realize we're getting into candid camera territory now, right? I mean, I'm not being Punk'd here, am I?"

So here I stand on my roof, looking down the inky blackness of my chimney (I removed the apparently useless squirrel-proof top). Steve (for narative purposes, I have named the squirrel Steve McQueen), is apparently huddling in the shadows, waiting for the guards to leave before trying once more to scale the wall.

I'm knotting the rope at six-inch increments, which I guess is one unit squirrel length, while whistling the tune from "Bridge on the River Kwai". Then I drop the rope, and wait to see if Steve reacts.

Steve's not stupid. Until I identify myself properly as a member of the French resistance, he's not gonna take any chances with my offer of liberation. So, I leave him alone, and go back inside. At some point, isolation and fear will force him to risk liberation, and hopefully tomorrow I can bring the rope back in.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005
 
Nice Doggie
So, I'm sitting at the computer when the doorbell rings. My wife goes to answer the door at the same time that the dogs come running in from the back yard.

The little dog has a baseball cap in her mouth. I've never seen that cap before. It says, "Time Warner Cable" on it.

I start running for the front door.



To quote Wynn Catlin, "Diplomacy is the art of saying 'Nice Doggie!' till you can find a stick."

Sunday, February 06, 2005
 
The Tobies
To those people who were regular readers, I'm sorry. There's three reasons why I haven't been posting much:

1) Work - I'm almost finished with my chapters for the video game textbook. Man, I'll really be glad when this is done. I'm working a lot more than I'm getting paid. Of course, being a game programmer, I'm pretty used to that.

2) I've been hopped up on goofballs because I messed up my back. About six months ago, I screwed up my back picking up a 55lb. bag of dog foot. I've been suffering through it until the last two weeks, when I managed to convince my doctor that this was, in fact, a serious problem. He took it seriously, medicated me heavily, and now my back feels all better. I'm not even taking the painkillers anymore.

3) World of Warcraft. This was the first time I've tried a MMORP since my disastrous first experience with Ultima Online (ask me about it, if you're really interested). Man, I've got a lot to say about this game. But it will have to wait until another post.

Anyway, I'm better now, and I'm going to try to get back up into the practice of writing.

I noticed something kinda funny today, while reading through the Electronic Gaming Monthly. They were giving away this year's Tobies (a booby prize for bad games, named after Tobias Bruckner, from Turok:Evolution).

They named the Tobies after Tobias Bruckner, because Turok:Evolution was one of the worst games they had reviewed, and Tobias Bruckner was one of the worst conceived villains ever.

Now, I'm not going to try to defend Turok:Evolution. I know why it was such an abysmal failure, and I know my friends and I were not to blame. That's why I don't mind telling people that I worked on it.

Anyway, the funny thing is, I noticed that several of the people who worked at Acclaim during the Turok debacle, now work at Retro, and are part of the smash hit Metroid. Metroid, by the way, took the prize as Gamecube game of the year. In fact, the guy who's technical director on the Metroid games is the same one who was the producer for Acclaim's 100 Bullets.

How does that work out? How could anybody work on the best and the worst games at the same time? Does it mean that the developers don't matter? Did the Retro guys suddenly learn a lot about making games?

My guess is, it was the management. Nintendo was desperately worried about making the best possible game for their license, which culminating in them buying Retro studios outright. They threatened, they cajoled, they watched the game every step of the way.

Acclaim was worried about one thing, shipping on time. There was no leeway with regards to that, so a lot of art, story, and gameplay had to be scrapped. There was lots of office politics, finger pointing, team competitiveness, and extreme crunch time.

The result? Acclaim wins the first of the Tobies.


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