From the Annals: Tall Tales of Gaming: Little Computer People

I did a piece called Tall Tales of Gaming for Computer Games Magazine. This was the follow-up piece. It’s a batshit crazy story about David Crane creating Little Computer People. It was written before I knew how to write, so don’t judge me too harshly.

————————

       “…And that’s why we need your help, Mr. Crane,” finished the
four-inch-tall mayor of the little people with a grand wave.
       David Crane feigned being moved by their tales of being constantly
pursued by the ferocious creatures that inhabited their island; a
difficult task, as he was being deafened by the sound of cash
registers.
       “Uh huh, that’s really heartbreaking,” Crane said, as he thoughtfully
fondled the floppy disk in his pocket. “Listen, do you guys…do
anything?”
       “Sorry?” said the mayor with a furrowed brow.
       “Do you do anything interesting?” Crane asked curtly.
       The mayor’s face beamed, “Of course! We love to play poker, practice
the piano, tend to our pets-“
       “Yeah, OK, sounds good,” interrupted Crane, scooping all of the
island’s inhabitants into his arms.
       The townsfolk embraced as a little boy asked tearfully, “So does this
mean you’ll let us come and work in your chocolate factory?”
       “What the hell are you…Oh! The chocolate factory! Well yes, of
course! It’s a magical place, full of…wonder, and you’ll…uhh, always
be safe from the…vermicious knid,” Crane replied, attempting to judge
the child’s weight as one might select the ripest melon.
       “OK, gang, here’s the deal. You’re all going to the factory, and it’s
going to be really wondrous and everything, but I’m going to have to
transport you all,” Crane said as he pulled the disk from his pocket,
“in this.”
       “What…what’s that?” asked a tiny, trembling woman.
       “Why, it’s a magical transporter that makes Uncle David $27.50 in
royalties whenever one is sold,” replied Crane with a sadistic laugh.
       “But how will we all fit in there?” said the mayor, his giddiness
melting to terror.
        “Well, Ringo,” Crane flicked open his rusty pocket knife, “that’s
what we’re going to find out.”

                               ***********************

       Hours had passed, Crane was coated in sweat, tears and purplish
blood, and not one of the little people was on the computer disk!
       But Crane would not be defeated, he knew “Little Computer People”
could be a hit, if only…suddenly, as he looked at the remains of the
world’s smallest humanoids, he knew what he had to do.
       He would learn how to program! It was almost too easy. The only thing
that could stand in his way now were thirty or so tiny skeletons in
his closet.
       Crane wiped his hands on a nearby patch of grass, and set off to find
a very tiny shovel.

A Note on Plagarism

Just a quick note about this piece, which elicited a lot of … strong responses from my followers on Twitter.

For the record, I don’t think he explains away his actions. In fact, what I found interesting about the piece was just how little of an explanation he had. Take this bit, where he describes the inception of his “habit”:

I was 20 years old, and trying to write a short story for the first or second time when I came upon a paragraph I liked from a short story by B.S. Johnson called What did you say the Name of the Place was? It was so easy to do, as easy as picking up a drink, if you think about it. The lifted paragraph perfectly fit my narrative. And it temporarily assuaged the awful feeling I had in my head that I was no good as a writer.

The thing about mea culpas like this that normally make them effective is that they walk you back to a first, seemingly innocuous step — something that everyone can relate to — after which they inevitably spin off into disaster. But, speaking solely for myself, I can’t even understand the inception of his crime. That leap from copying someone’s paragraph and pasting it into my own work is one that I could never knowingly make.

I’m not willing to call plagiarism an “addiction” (though I’d argue overuse has long since robbed the word of most of its clinical connotations). But is it not possible that there’s some flipped switch in Quentin Rowan’s mind that isn’t flipped in mine or yours? Why is it so much easier to think he’s an evil, evil son-of-a-bitch with no conscience?

It’s great to beat up on people who plagiarize, because it’s one of the absolute wrongs. There’s no gray area, it’s simply not done. I believe most of us are guided away from absolute wrongs by an internal moral compass. It’s one that steers us away from these big sins and maybe allows for a few smaller ones that may be harder to judge, harder to detect.

I may be naive, but I prefer to think that some people have areas where their compasses don’t function correctly, rather than thinking those people are missing theirs entirely. Whether you want to define that as addiction is up to you, but I’d be loathe to kick around someone else’s great big sins just because mine are harder to find.

On Skyrim and Bias

So this little video I made has caused quite the kerfuffle over at NeoGAF. I wasn’t going to address it, because I’m trying to reduce the amount of e-conflict (.comflict?) in my life. But the more I thought about it (and the more I saw some well-reasoned debate on the topic there) I started to suspect it might be — as my girlfriend Oprah says — a teachable moment.

One of the things I’m proudest of at Joystiq is how we work to eliminate opportunities for bias whenever possible. We don’t take trips paid for by publishers/developers. We don’t accept gifts. We try not to get too close to people making games (or at least recuse ourselves from covering products they make if it happens). Why? Well, we believe that if it’s not a gift or trip or back rub presented to the reader, then the reader — rightfully or not — might assume we let that perk color our judgment.

“But Justin, Oblivion is your favorite game. Isn’t it a double standard to let someone who’s biased towards loving Oblivion review its sequel?”

I don’t believe it is, and here’s why: It’s a bias that any reader could come by on their own. In fact, in this case, I would wager to say that most people considering a purchase of Skyrim really enjoyed Oblivion, because otherwise, what are they doing? Actually, let me take that one step farther. I think if you didn’t really enjoy Oblivion and you’re reviewing Skyrim that’s enough of an outlier in the “possible Skyrim purchasers” group that you may want to consider disclosing it.

The fallacy on behalf of people who suggested I shouldn’t be allowed to review Skyrim is that I’ll in some way be inclined to be unfairly kind to Skyrim because I loved Obvlivion so much. Seriously, have you guys not met any game critics? Or, indeed, the internet? My biggest worry about reviewing Skyrim is that it will in any way disappoint me and I will, as a result, savage it. But being aware of that bias and compensating for it is the work of any good critic of anything. You can eliminate all the outside marketing influence you like, but any reviewer is going to bring some level of baggage to any review, because they’re human beings. The trick, to crib a line from Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning musical Rent, is finding a critic with baggage that goes with yours. Or, perhaps even more productively, reading the thoughts of several critics with disparate baggage and then watching all their slideshows and deciding for yourself … you know … what Hawaii looks like. Or something.

The people reading about video games are excited about them. And the people arguing about them on sites like NeoGAF are really excited about them. I think the moment that a game critic falls out of step with those groups is the moment they should get into PR.

Sorry, that was a joke.

They should get into marketing.

Again, sorry. Still totally joking.

Anor Londo: A Musical Tribute

This is my haunting musical tribute to Dark Souls. I quit it last night, but needed a more fitting way to say goodbye.

The Office: “Character Study”, a spec script I wrote

Character Study – An Office Spec Script
So this is kinda weird for me, but I figure it this way: Fuck it.

This is a spec script I wrote for “The Office.” I don’t think it’s terrible, but I don’t think it’s great either. It was mostly written to teach myself the format, conventions, etc. But now that Michael Scott’s off the show (and they did a theater-heavy plot last season with Andy), I figure this ship has officially sailed. Rather than just leave it to rot on my hard drive, I’ll leave it to rot here, on my WordPress blog. Hope you get a chuckle out of it.

JUSTIN McELROY in ONE OF OUR ASTEROIDS IS MISSING, a story by Ben Paddon

Ben Paddon writes a blog called Game Journos. It’s sometimes mean and sometimes right and sometimes both. This is a story I commissioned about myself by Ben. The theme I requested was “Justin McElroy, hero to all.” I think it’s great, and I think I need to pay for part 2 right away. Enjoy.

PART ONE

“From the trajectory, it appears the asteroid will hit the Earth in approximately 72 hours,” said the General.

The President placed a cigarette between his lips, lit it, and inhaled sharply.

“Is there anything we can do?” he asked.

“We’ve liaised with several world governments, sir. Japan, China, Great Britain, Germany, France. No-one has the facilities to bring this asteroid down. We’ve also considered several suggestions from Michael Bay, Jerry Bruckheimer, Steven Spielberg, and Roland Emmerich, all of whom agree it’s far too late to mount a daredevil mission to the surface of the asteroid to blow it up.”

“Who’s Roland Emmerich?”

“He directed a number of ‘disaster porn’ films, sir. ‘Independence Day’, ‘2012’, ‘The Day After Tomorrow’,‘Godzilla’…”

“Does ‘Godzilla’ count as a disaster movie?” asked the President.

“Hard to see how a giant monster rampaging through a major American city could be seen as anything other than a disaster, sir.”

The President stood up, and looked out of a nearby window. The view was unspectacular – they were a mile deep underground – but he’d requested the windows be installed so that he could look out of them in a contemplative manner.

He turned to the General, and flicked his cigarette at an unfortunately-positioned intern. “What about Initiative J?” he asked.

The General shuffled in his seat. “With respect, sir, Initiative J hasn’t even been tested yet. We’ve no way of knowing if it’s even suitable for a large-scale disaster of this magnitude.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” the President said, smiling.
~*~
Justin McElroy stepped out of the car wearing a finely-cut black suit and the most expensive aviator shades money can buy ($34.95 plus tax). He walked towards Air Force One where the President awaited his arrival.

“It’s an absolute honor to finally meet you.”

“You needn’t stand on ceremony with me, Mr. President. I’m just here to do a job.”

It is as this point that you may wonder exactly what Justin McElroy looks like. Mere words cannot convey this man’s exceptional good looks. Indeed, the movie rights for this story have already been optioned by a major movie studio based on McElroy’s looks alone, however all involved in production have asked that he be portrayed by British actor Matt Berry who, while certainly handsome, is just odd-looking enough to make all of the other actors feel a little bit better about themselves. McElroy himself has signed a lengthy contract forbidding him from appearing on set to avoid any work stoppages and tantrums from the actors.

Aboard the plane, McElroy laid out his plan.

“It’s a simple three-fold operation,” said McElroy. “First, I go up to the asteroid. Secondly, I punch the asteroid in the face. Finally, upon my return, there’s an orgy.”

“Are you sure?” asked the General.

“It’s more likely than not. Orgies tend to just happen when I’m around. We’re having an orgy right now.”

“I think he was referring to the second part of your plan,” said the President, wiping a small glob of butter from his eye. “You honestly think you can stop this asteroid by punching it?”

“In the face, yes,” nodded McElroy, maneuvering himself so as not to be kicked in the face by a female intern.

“Do asteroids even have faces?” asked the General. “My dear General,” McElroy smiled. “Do you know nothing about Astronomy?”
~*~
Several hours later, McElroy was strapped into a space shuttle and blasted into the sky. Millions watched the event on TV and via a live web stream. The fate of the world rested in the hands of a man determined to punch an asteroid in the face.

The shuttle touched down upon what McElroy had dubbed the “hair” of the asteroid. The airlock doors hissed open, and McElroy took his first steps out onto the surface.

He looked up at the earth, looming above him. The blue marble.

He looked down to the asteroid. He clenched his fists, let out a mighty cry, and punched it in the face.

All around the earth, people watched in awe as the asteroid suddenly stopped moving towards the planet, instead spinning off into the depths of space, never to be seen again.

“McElroy, this is mission control. You did it! Come on home. Over.” Silence. “McElroy? Come in.” Still silence.

McElroy had known all along he wouldn’t be able to return. He’d watched ‘Armageddon’ recently, and he’d always felt an affinity with Bruce Willis. While he was right about the orgy that would ensue after the success of his mission – an orgy that would be held globally on this day every year afterwards in his honor – he would not be able to participate.

But there would be other planets. And, more importantly, there would be other orgies. Space orgies.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Corrected Reviewer’s Guide for Epic Mickey

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