Manic Pixies, Questionable Content, and Going Hungry on Slices of Life

So I got into a discussion about QC the other day. Save for Penny Arcade, it's the comic I have been reading the longest. In college I binged the first half or so of the comic in about two days, and I've kept reading since, only ever falling about a month behind when I forget stuff. But when Grace asks me why, I never have a good answer. Now that I think about it, it's really a hate-read situation.

"Why the hate?" A friend asked. The drama between Martin and Faye, and later, Martin and Dora, really drove the comic. We knew these characters, and their conversations frequently had this Cards Against Humanity bent (often thanks to Pintsize). It really was Questionable Content, on occasion. But now the comic's range seems to span from mopey to precious. It got soft. And right on her cue, another friend brought up Hannelore.

Oh Hannelore. Harbinger of the QC's decline. Well. That's not fair. It's actually patently inaccurate. Jeph's faithful love her. They eat her up. They can't get enough of dear Hanners, which is why most of the cast is now are neurotic, quirky injenues. So I am in the minority.

The character who first appeared in the comic, this chain-smoking, intense, Lisbeth Salander-esque chick who was stalking Martin, without any romantic intent was compelling. Ah! A breath of fresh air from romantic pursuits! It was also kind of scary and kind of weird. Conflict. Intrigue. It's exactly what the comic doesn't have any more. Her transformation into a precious, nervous-wreck who rattles off phobias with endearingly eccentric behavior that is supposed to represent social awkwardness was a mark of a change in tone.

It's like Jeph made the exact opposite of the character he intended to write and draw, tried again, and liked his second attempt so much that the comic has slowly started to revolve around her archetype; the platonic manic pixie dream girl. That was the beginning of backing away from urgency, controversy and snark, but also the point where it really found it's audience.

On a conceptual level, I do not have a problem with MPDGs; from Holly Golightly to Ramona Flowers, there have been some fun, bad-ass manic pixies. But they usually had a goal, and the aimless MPDG has become a fucking zeigeist. Zooey Deschanel did a number on us.

Rather, everybody got really nice, and fascinating shit stopped happening. The space station arc was kind of fun, but there was never anything at risk. I think the characters I have the most problems with, Martin and most of his platonic pixies, are the ones who seem content to not get their shit together. To be comfortable with the lack of any goal or drive. I think that's why it has felt like there was a good 3 to 4 years where NOTHING HAPPENED. The last arc has been better, thanks to Faye having a life-threatening problem, and Dora reacting to it like an actual human being (always happy to see Penelope popping in too).

So husband of Hanner lover, one of my best friends, asked, "What's wrong with nothing happening?" My eye twitched a little.

I need something to happen in a story, and that something has to mean something, or mean nothing in a way that moves the reader. It doesn't have to involve gunfights, or warp drives, or motherfucking sorcerers (though almost all of my stories go that way). People don't even have to be assholes, or dying, but there needs to be an agenda. Slice of life played perfectly straight always leaves me hangry.

The closest thing to sliced life I can enjoy is a sitcom like Seinfeld, HIMYM, or Friends. Seinfeld was famously billed as the show about nothing. But each episode is this weird, awesomely circular comedy led by four assholes with very distinctive characters. Jerry is a shallow smartass. Kramer is a spastic eccentric. George is a nebbish sadsack. Elaine is a neurotic bitch. They are all selfish, but each in their own way. There is very little in the way of macro-plot or continuity. Arrested Development takes this to the next level, because the show is actually hyper-plotted, but nothing ever ends up changing, despite deeply self-referential continuity.

A bunch of people hanging out in a coffee shop with no real direction and no tension between them bores me. Maybe it could work with stronger jokes; I realized I just described the first couple seasons of Friends. And that sounds alright in real-life; a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon. But I don't go to fiction for real life. I go to it for something more focused and saturated with meaning. The really weird thing is that QC is very moralistic, but the hyper liberal millennial opinions (opinions I share, by the way,) are presented without conflict or rebuttal. Older generations take exception to our politics and we have to deal with it. Many other millennials have issues with some of these issues.

So far, Claire is the perfect example of this frustration. Trans acceptance is like the next big civil rights frontier. Trans is a fraught, ambiguous term: I'm not even clear on what Claire means by "trans." Is she a post-op, and if so, was it by decision or was she sex-ambiguous at birth? How does she feel about that distinction? In QC land, everyone is super supportive and cool with it. That fumbles an issue deserving serious discussion, and Jeph's platform is big enough to make that discussion matter. I think being progressive entails more than being agreeable towards people who are marginalized.

So much of the QC has been reduced to Jeph introducing kawaii westernized waifus with "issues" that are actually just flavors. It's like this weird, politically correct, platonic harem. Hell, I think that was actually the punchline to a comic about 5 years ago. Somewhere along the way, that self-awareness was lost.

On the Psychopathy of Corporate Personhood

Most of the time, reading Gawker (and their brood of child blogs) makes me sad, but every once in a while, somebody knocks it out of the park. Jim Cook is the closest guy they have to a designated hitter. Take a gander at his piece on Coke's fast aborted #MakeitHappy bot.

You read it? Cool.

One of my friends (very reasonably) pointed out that "Brands are not your friend" is an observation on par with "the sky is blue," and we could tune in at eleven for more info. Like I said, he's not wrong. This shit should not require an article. But it does. So welcome to the 11 o'clock news. I am your host, Hank Whitson.

The article is about people who can't see the sky is blue. Apparently there are a lot of them. Obvious truths are often taken for granted and accepted without scrutiny. "Fuck Facebook!" said the guy, on Facebook, missing the punchline to his own joke.

The best line in that article is the observation that "all brands are inherently psychopathic," which is less obvious than "they aren't your friends." If we are to take the notion of collective person hood at its word, the brand, or campaign, or company being personified would usually look like Frank Underwood. Or Walter White. Pick your favorite charismatic, narcissist who has no problem killing as many people as necessary to get his way. Those characters are fascinating. They can be charming and do amazing things despite their heinous flaws. That's why they dominate the current paradigm of storytelling. But do you really want to be friends with them? Does that asshole deserve your defense? Hell no. Yet people took to the soapboxes for Coke.

Social media primes us to do this, more so than earlier forms of advertising. Declare allegiance without consideration. Award favor without anything offered in exchange. We don't have to settle for that. There's no escaping brands or corporations, and even though they are almost unanimously evil, they can produce things of value.

That goes for advertising, too. Give people something of value in exchange for asking them to buy something. A text manipulation bot that was exploited in a matter of hours has very little value. It does nothing to curb meanness or promote affability.

The more your thing actually matters, the more artful and genuine it is, the harder it will be for a smartass or another psychopath (like Gawker) to call you out on being a shill. And should they manage to do that anyway, you need find a way to roll with the punch instead of throwing a tantrum, taking your ball, and going home.

Where I've Found Myself in Writing

Encountering a piece of good fiction, or good design, or good art of any kind, is like finding a part of yourself that's missing. You may have known it wasn't there and was supposed to be; it might complete a mechanism that was incomprehensible and incomplete, or fix one that was damaged. Or it could just be a power up for your brain.

Something that makes you more of whoever you want, or need, to be. The "List ten books that have affected you" non-meme has been circulating heavy on my Facebook wall, and I responded, but as my father-in-law hinted at with his deliberately intimidating list, anybody can list any ten books that sound impressive or enjoyable or shocking. And the question is not, what books did you enjoy the most, or what challenged you the most, or what you think will impress the people who read your list, but what changed you and stuck with you, years later.

Like most of life, the list doesn't mean anything without context. A simple fact that one of my former college professors illustrated by providing comments with her own list. Her's was brief and said just enough. I started to do the same, but as with many of my recent posts, which were intended to be blurbs facebook, I took it too seriously and said too much. But here it is. The ten books that have shaped me more than any other.

1. The Magicians by Lev Grossman
This novel not only felt like it was written for me, but the subject matter and voice come the closest to what I want to write. Nerdy heteronormative white guys raised in plenty really don’t have to deal with a lot of shit relative to the rest of the world, but everybody has issues and this book (the whole trilogy really) talked about mine. Trying to do something great when it seems like all the maps have already been drawn. Overcoming selfishness and privilege to be a good person. Finding genuine meaning and satisfaction in your accomplishments. Dealing with the unexpected strife of dreams coming true. And, most importantly, striking a balance between fantasy and reality. NOTE: I wrote more on this trilogy. I am going to finish it and post it relatively soon. I promise.

2. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by JK Rowling
I will always think of this as the best book in the series, but a big part of that may stem from when I read it. High school sucked. The rules didn’t matter, and a handful of good teachers couldn’t overcome a school in the grip of a truly evil bastard. To this day, Umbrage remains my most hated villain, and Sirius’s death hit me harder than any other in the series (except for maybe Snape). It was also the perfect fantasy. Harry, exhibiting more personality here than anywhere else in the series, realizes that this shit with Voldemort isn’t going to stop until one or both of them is in the ground and the authority figures in his life cannot be depended on (or even trusted). But instead of merely seething with contempt like I did, he leads a rebellion, rescues his mentors, and ousts the evil bitch who is poisoning his school.

3. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
This is the book my wife used to start courting me. I like to think I would have found it eventually, and it still would have earned a spot on this list, because it speaks to many interests and personal struggles. The sadistically unfair battle school, certainly reminded me of my high school but it far more accurately captured the nature of standardized testing and competing for college admissions. Card’s scenes of violence are the most arresting I’ve ever read, because they manage to capture cold logic of military strategy, without losing the blood boiling nature of schoolyard rivalry (and the hatred that can morph into). It also has an increasingly relevant message about the nature of games, simulations, and their relation to war. Paired with the referral from Grace, and the time when I read it, this book will always be one of my most prominent influences.

4. Sabriel by Garth Nix
Very hard to unpack this one. The thing I love most about Garth Nix is that he proves young adult fiction need not be pedantic or preachy, but honestly, Shade’s Children does a better job of illustrating that. Sabriel is stunning, incredibly capable and personable fantasy heroine, but at the end of the day I have to give the ultimate crown to Buffy Summers. The world is incredibly rich and compelling, though not as rich with possibilities as His Dark Material’s multiverse. Those elements alone would make for a notable novel, but together, the result is stunning. The magic system is also one of the best I’ve ever read; a mix of music and runes and powerful artifacts. Moget also proves that talking animals need not be saccharine or even benevolent.

5. The Subtle Knife
This was another referral from Grace, and it is another YA book that would captivate any adult fantasy fan as well. Initially, I found The Golden Compass more confusing than intriguing. About halfway through, I started to recognize the patterns, but it wasn’t until the second book when the promise of Pullman’s world really blossomed and stamped my fiction with the concept of the multiverse. Lyra was always amazing, but I don’t think I fully appreciated her until she was paired with Will. He was more stoic and traditional, but no less compelling. If I could snatch any one relic from any book, it would be The Subtle Knife. Pullman’s war on God and fundamentalism take a backseat to telling a good story here, but it still contains the remarkable influences of Paradise Lost.

6. The Exorcist by William Peter Blatey
This book scared me so profoundly that I put it in the freezer one night. Not outside my room. Not in a drawer. In my fucking freezer. More importantly, it fostered an intense life-long fascination with demons, nearly ruined the entire horror genre by setting impossible standards, and was the tipping point that started my shift from Christianity to agnosticism. It is also a very rare example of an occasion where seeing a movie adaptation enhanced my subsequent appreciation of the source text. My memories of Reagan’s warped face and voice were present for scenes of horror that did not make the final film cut, and the emotional and interpersonal violence of the situation were exacerbated by greater context.

7. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
I am not a born re-reader. That's a serious flaw for an aspiring author or writer of anything, but it's not a thing I normally do, even if I love a book. Usually I only go back to something when writing a paper or blog, or I am trying to figure out how an author I love did something almost impossible. The Magicians, Catcher in the Rye and a few Harry Potter books are rare exceptions. But I make a point of reading a Christmas Carol every year. It is a brilliant story of redemption with a fanciful time travel twist. In many ways, Scrooge is a prototype for House and other flawed yet charming lead men; even when he is an asshole, he's fun to read. But he also becomes the better man he once was, which is an element of storytelling that has tragically fallen out of style.

8. Mythologies by Roland Barthes
The basis for my approach to criticism, tragically read at the very end of my college career. Barthes singles out the “myths” and “fictions” people employ in advertising and society and takes them to task with with wit and aplomb. It's the retroactive model for what I do here.

9. The Medium is the Message by Marshall McLuhanThe most important theory/philosophy book I read, introduced to me by my thesis chair, Ian Bogost. The Tetrad remains one of the most useful analytical models I ever encountered (a north star for my own thesis), while many of his other predictions, delivered as incontrovertible assertions, are hilariously inaccurate. “Hilariously” is not just an emphatic; entire passages of this book made me howl with laughter.

10. The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger
One of the first books without any overt fantastic elements or implausible intrigues that really resonated with me. Today that is still a very exclusive club with a bouncer possessing the mind of a judgy, contemptuous hipster, and the body of a gorilla who got Bruce Banner's gamma radiation rage. But Holden Caulfield's sweetness, straining against the most difficult and petulant period of adolescence, felt universal and timeless. That's astounding, given that Salinger's writing always drips with the period in which it was writ.

Yes, this is slightly a different list than the one that I first posted on my Facebook wall. Some stuff has been shuffled, and some has been replaced outright. I'm keeping the old list, because like I said to my friend Jon, I think what initially springs to mind matters. But this is the real deal. The books that have shaped what I do and write more than anything else. I may do this stuff in the future for other media.

2014 FB Highlights: On Wendig's Chapter 1 Criteria

Originally Discussed: 12/16/14

My good friend and trusted advisor, Jessica Shen, an editor for Xchyler Publishing, sent me this piece from Chuck Wendig's blog about the many requirements a novel's first chapter must satisfy, and this was my reply:

I agree with the majority of this as-written; and I think I'd agree with all of it given some clarification and caveats. The overall thrust couldn't be more correct: make an impression, make something happen, and make me care. Modern audiences, even readers, don't have patience for scenes set before 'the Fire Nation attacks' anymore (Tolkien, Jordan, I'm looking at you). Prologues are similarly archaic, though in certain genres you can make a case for them, like fantasy epics, space operas, and anything with a large cast of POV characters (multiple-POVs complicate a lot of things). There's a lot I don't like about RR Martin, but killing off prologue characters works for A Song of Fire and Ice.

Baiting the hook and giving an impression of the whole are probably the two most important features, and the hardest to square with each other. You want readers to go "I never thought I would end up here," but not "this is not what I signed on for." The hook has to make you wonder, hint at what is possible in this universe. You don't want to spring wizards on people a hundred pages in, unless you implied that was a possibility from the first chapter.

I also don't think establishing the full scale of the stakes is as important for longer work but there needs to be a problem to be sure. Something pressing enough to keep going. You can start with a computer glitch that calls the already-tired IT guy back into work; the guy's job is on the line and when he gets into work, he realizes the glitch is actually a hack, and if you make him likable enough, you can get people to the next chapter. Then you reveal that the entire company has been wormed for months and introduce readers to other members of his team. The chapter after that, his team is implicated, and now a lot of people (the company, the company's clients, who are shadier than they appeared) are gunning for them.

 Opening lines are hard as hell, and a good one will be remembered forever and quoted endlessly. And Wendig is dead on: keep it short. The most common plays I've seen are establishing voice in one line (Neuromancer), central conflict (The Dark Tower), or something that does not easily make sense by itself (Farenheit 451). The one thing I would add is that I think you generally need to get to the end before you know how to phrase your beginning to maximum effect.

In terms of take-aways for what I'm working on, it was a good reminder that I need people to care about my main character enough to want to spend time with him. He is less generic than my last book's guy, but he's also this pathetic embittered prick, and I am struggling with how to convey that while simultaneously showing he is worth fixing, even though it's a tall order. Something to keep in mind when I do my annual re-read of A Christmas Carol.

2014 FB Highlights: Suck It Luminosity

Luminosity's ads are obnoxious and I have always been skeptical of their claims. So this is particularly gratifying.

Here's the ad that set me off. "It just just seems like games, but it's serious brain training." The implication is that through the alchemy of "neuro-plasticity" something as seemingly frivolous as games can be productive. When really, they are more akin to Highlights magazine for adults. Their product actually isn't terrible; but not fun enough that I would take it over something as simple as bejeweled. Play is not what sells them.  They bait the hook of their product with promises like improved reflexes, recall, and critical thinking instead of doing a thing for its own sake. All of those specific benefits are byproducts from playing games.

Even a 'time-waster' like Bejeweled contains a system with tons of variation. Once you've learned that system, you carry it with you, and impose it on reality. Some games make more potent lenses than others (Portal, Braid, and any competitive or strategic game spring to mind). Luminosity's offerings seem more like crossword puzzles. Solve it once, or do your reps and then drop the concept like weights. Check your daily mental health box And look down on the kids who whittle their life away with Minecraft.

The only games I would label as mindless are things like Mafia Wars and other Facebook games circa 2005-2009. Those are monetized Pavlov Response Tests. You click on something every couple of hours. You get fake money. End of story. Ditto traditional slot machines. Contrary to what their presentation implies, you cannot learn to master those reels. Pull lever. Hit buttons. Lose money. it takes a focused effort of inspired cynicism to make a truly mindless game. Luminosity's "do this thing to win mental health!" approach strikes me as very cynical as well. Are you playing a game for itself, or because you hope playing it will give you something?

Even accursed freemium like Clash of Clans and Candy Crush, have at least a modicum of gameplay. And Bejeweled, which is not constrained by timing mechanics, is a lot like Tetris, Lumines, or Meteos. Each of those are repetitious, and you can use them to zone out, but even then they teach you how to think around a central concept (like portals), force you to improvise within the constraints of that system and explore its possibilities.

There are diminishing returns. Somebody who has played tons of arcade puzzle games, or different match-3 games will not get nearly as much mental stimulation as somebody who has never played games before (and that is Bejeweled's target demographic). If you ask somebody who has never played videogames before to complete Portal 2, no shit they are going to do some growing. It'd be like handing your average high school student Infinite Jest and saying "Good luck!"

2014 FB Highlights: RIP Robin Williams

Originally Posted: 8-11-14

So, I was surprised by Robin Williams like everybody else, but for some reason one of my first thoughts was "that makes sense." At least, to the extent that suicide ever makes sense.

I read one his interviews where he was supposed to be promoting his new show, and even in the blurb that popped up on google, the interviewer noted that he was talking more about bad decisions and regrettable behavior than sticking to the supposed subject. It's clear that he had been struggling with some serious demons for a long time.

It would be crass for me to pretend I was a huge fan. I preferred to take his stuff in single doses. But everybody I know, even others who didn't really care for him, can name at least one of his performances that they either tremendously enjoyed or respected. In order, my favorite things by him were Aladdin, Dead Poet Society, Good Will Hunting, Insomnia, Mrs. Doubtfire, his HBO stand up special, and his appearance on Who's Line.

Each one of those performances were excellent and together they demonstrate a marvelous, magical range. Even though I thought "that makes sense," the news also hurt. More than I would have guessed. Genie, John Keating, Sean Maguire, Walter Finch, Mrs. Doubtfire, I hope you all found peace. You are missed.

2014 FB Highlights: Oculus Rift

Originally Written 3/26/14

 If you are not disappointed by Facebook's purchase of Oculus, you haven't been paying attention. Which of their acquisitions have been improved, or even leveraged to their full potential? When was the last time the core site added functionality you actually enjoyed or valued?

Feeds (or walls, or timelines, or whatever the hell we're supposed to call them this week) have become polluted by targeted sponsorship and throttled by algorithmic efforts to 'tailor' the content you receive, neutering them of their spontaneity and variety. People forced to develop for Facebook's "platform" have compared it unfavorably to Alighieri's Hell.

Zuckerberg's aspirations for VR resemble Second Life circa half a decade ago more than anything from Snow Crash or Neuromancer. Given Facebook's stake in developing VR as a social communications medium (read: a tarted up telepresence and home-shopping engine), it is naive to assume that the Oculus team will have nearly as much time and creative freedom to devote toward developing artistic and entertainment applications. The agenda behind an acquisition ALWAYS transforms the acquired.

All of that having been said...

If The Devil himself offered you $2B in resources to develop your dream project, and the exposure to make it a household name overnight, most people would find it very hard to walk away. That kind of money gives you the ability to test and refine your product in ways that VC funding cannot hope to match. Facebook's (admittedly dubious) ambitions also give Oculus an incentive to escape the techno-limbo of gaming peripherals. All of the potential applications Zuckerberg described are uninspired (or insipid), but if you really want to see Virtual Reality blossom into something beyond a fetish object, this is a smart horse to put money on.

Could Oculus have pulled it off on their own? Maybe. I like to think so, but I was always the target market. Even when it was primarily a gaming peripheral, their product hinted at a world I always wanted to live in. So yeah, of course I'm disappointed that Luckey and Carmac signed up with Z-bag. If I were more invested in this, I might even be outraged. But it is also laughable that Kickstarter backers and gaming enthusiasts feel like they have the right to tell a stranger to turn down a literal fortune to develop his dream.