Real Stories

real stories
Milan Kundera, the Czech writer, once wrote that as we look back on our lives we recall, at best, a handful of 'snapshots' - memorable events - though we prefer to imagine that we remember it all.
I can't recall where he said that - but at a guess it would be in his 'Book of Laughter and Forgetting'. But I think he understated things slightly, though: we remember a few stories. I feel fortunate that I can recollect some interesting ones.
I was reminded of one in particular last night:
I was standing on the eastern border of Azshara, looking down along the road that leads into the country. For anyone who has not visited Azshara it is an extraordinary place - at once beautiful and terrible. The remains of a great civilisation litter its rocky territories - shattered by some cataclysmic natural disaster. The mournful cries of its long-dead inhabitants are carried on the wailing wind. It is also a dangerous place for the inexperienced traveller.
It was near midnight, and by moonlight the land was cast in shades of grey - a lonely place and a lonely time, then, and an excellent place to experience solitude and reverie to the full.
So I was surprised to spot a small character making his way hesitantly along the road, on foot. He was looking around him as if expecting to be attacked at any moment - as was, indeed, likely. As I walked towards him it became obvious that he was inexperienced, possibly lost. I approached with a smile and a cheery wave, and explained that it would be unwise to continue any further and that to do so would probably end in his untimely demise.
He paused in thought, and then responded simply 'help me', pointing down the road leading into the heart of the country. His expression said it all - he was not lost, just an explorer - determined to press on whatever the cost, driven onwards by the hope of reaching the ends of the world and an insatiable passion for the sheer extent of its beauty. And this was something that we had in common.
I laughed and nodded and together we set off. Over the next few hours we battled our way into the heart of the country, saying very little but fighting side by side the droves of wraiths and murlocs that were drawn from all around by the peculiar sight of such an inexperienced traveller.
And eventually we stood, bloodied and bruised, before the ruined capitol itself; its luminous temples still intact, its desiccated fountains curving ornately upwards as if frozen in time. Between us, an eternal tale of two adventurers sharing their wordless wonder at the world.
We remain friends to this day.
On my way, on foot, to Euston station last night I had passed a short woman by the entrance. She was utterly distraught; tears streaming down her face. She walked hurriedly - unable to hide her misery, desperate to carry it away from the crowd.
And as soon as she passed there was that awful feeling that perhaps there was something one could have done to help - a few words perhaps - buried instantly in a flurry of unanswered questions regarding what this helping thing would be, and how it might be interpreted by the person concerned, by the people around and whether or not it would be wise to 'get involved' at all.
By which time she was long gone.

The BBC - out of the game?

The BBC - out of the game?
Yesterday I attended the BBC seminar 'A new future for new media' today, delivered by Bill Thompson, Samantha Smith, Richard Dawkins, Tony Ageh, Tom Loosemore, Pete Clifton. They talked about the future of technology and of the BBC.

A couple of things struck me:
Firstly, despite the in-depth research into the area of games commissioned by the BBC, the BBC at large does not understand the games community - nor does it feel it needs to. Roughly speaking the BBC sees programme making as a legitimate way of discharging the entertainment part of its charter whilst games remain an illegitimate activity. As regards the BBC's growing interest in 'online' and 'multi-platform' approaches, there is a tendency to think only in terms of 'web pages', despite the fact that for an increasing number of people 'entertainment' and 'online' are likely to be experiences delivered via a games platform. The resulting spectacle is that of an elderly organisation desperate to move boldly into the new environment, but clinging to an outdated notion of entertainment - as 'quality' programme-making. This, despite the fact that its most successful online presence (in terms of user rating) is predominantly an online gaming site (Ceebeebies)

Some of the more pertinent indicators that this is, indeed, an error are as follows:
- 59% of 6-65 year olds in the UK are gamers (26 million gamers), 48% are heavy gamers- audience-wise, there are 9 million players in the Warcraft virtual world alone (to give only one example of a game.)- gaming platforms are online - the xbox360 has its own content distribution network allowing users to get music videos download games etc. (So, for example, Ceebeebies games could currently be made available free to UK xbox users - but aren't)- even the smallest, most affordable games platforms (such as the nintendo DS) allow internet-based gaming and community functionality.- the nintendo Wii (due for release this Friday) is part of an aggressive marketing strategy to broaden the appeal of gaming to all age groups. It comes with a web-browser, flash 8 and ajax capability. It costs £180.

Games consoles (ranging from the nintendo DS to the Playstation 3) will likely become the default channel for accessing the web from home, with games consuming an increasing share of personal entertainment time (PET) as programme viewing diminishes by comparison.
Today, however, a great deal of the BBC's thinking around 'web 2.0' and the online future is skewed by a focus on the weird and wonderful developments happening in web-pages.
For my part, I like to imagine a parallel universe in which the widespread introduction of multi-functional games consoles is accompanied by an explosion of free interactive content provided by the BBC, ranging from immersive role-playing games through to gripping historical recreations.

The other thing that stuck me is how people whose background is predominantly technological (programmers etc.) over-ascribe the success of specific technologies to 'luck'. This is because they generally overlook the significance of the one constant in the equation: people. As a thumbnail sketch, what happens is that a creative programmer sees a opportunity to build something. They build it principally because the software can do it and as a consequence what people actually do with it comes largely as a surprise to them. Two examples: nobody anticipated the success of txt, and nobody foresaw the failure of video-conferencing. The key to understanding the rapidly changing technological environment, then, is to understand the slowly changing human environment. What seemed surprising to me was that whilst the BBC is working furiously to understand and make use of a vast range of new media technologies, there seems only to be a cursory or implicit analysis of what people are going to want to do with it - with the likely result that technological commentators will rationalise the success or failure of a given technological venture as 'chance'. In sum, the BBC's approach to new media appears to be founded on trial and error and ignores the most significant area of expansion in the entertainment sector.

The final thing that occurred to me is that, in the days when I had a television, I loved that moment when Patrick Stewart leant forwards in the captains chair and, with a bold gesture of his hand, uttered the words 'engage'. Now I hate the bloody word.
The original charm of the phrase had much to do with its mechanical connotations, I think. In this context to 'engage' might mean to connect the idling engine to some kind of driveshaft via a clutch mechanism (the star ship enterprise actually employed a similar mechanisms to that of early type ford fiestas), the significant feature of a clutch being the two interfaces, one of which spins the other of which is stationary - that is until the two are brought together and friction is sufficient to transfer the rotational momentum from one to the other.
And I think maybe this is what people mean when they talk about 'engaging' content - there has to be friction at the interface, something in programmes that 'catches' with audiences and moves them. Interactive content aims at interpenetration, at meshing, whilst 'bumpy' content has emotional peaks or dramatic turns - surface features that work with the emotional receptiveness of audiences.

I found Pete Clifton to be engaging, and a comment that he made stuck in my mind: that in the self-service news environment two of the biggest stories of the year had been the bear chased up a tree by a cat, and a man who married a goat. It made me wonder how much more there is to discover about how to engage audiences.
In any case, I am happy to announce the successor to engaging content - 'alien' content. This is content that literally bursts from your screen and attaches itself to your face. Over the course of the next few days it actually hijacks your nervous system, eventually subverting your entire body for its nefarious ends - at which point it bursts free from your stomach ready to infect some new host. The rough cuts look promising.