Living in a Geek Boys’ World

Posted on January 26, 2012 by Kari Lucin

I’m not really a girl gamer, because I’m not truly a gamer. I play video games, but only a very few of them, and most of them, I use more as a venue for socializing and storytelling than as games.

Much has been made, however, of the gaming world’s treatment of women and minorities–often sexist, homophobic and creepy. And when that’s pointed out, the reaction is generally squelching of criticism. There’s a good post on Kotaku about the subject, and of course there’s also an immediate attempt to crush the criticism in the comments, and an ensuing flame war.

I’ve noticed a bit of a trend in these articles. While I agree with their main point–generally, something along the lines of “the gaming community needs to be less sexist, homophobic and creepy” — I do want to emphasize that these articles often assume that there is any such thing as “the gaming community.”

It’s a catch-all term, casting a very wide net over a very diverse set of games that appeal to very diverse gamers. It’s a bit like using the term “media,” which not only includes Fox news and CNN but also Saveur magazine and the Jackson Pilot, as well as Disney and blogs about the WWE. Is there really anything meaningful and yet true that you can say about “the media,” keeping that in mind?

The “gaming community” is a little similar to that. I’m not even talking about the way people marginalize casual games as “not real gaming.” I’m talking about what people normally consider the gaming community.

While I have watched plenty of games and heard talk about “raping” and various homophobic and sexist slurs, I have also played plenty of games myself where that kind of behavior is rare and frowned upon when it does happen. It didn’t happen to me a lot when I played Aion. It didn’t happen to me a lot when I played City of Heroes either.

It’s not happening to me much now that I play the Star Wars game “The Old Republic.”

In fact, I have a female character at level 35, and she’s been fully clothed like a normal woman (well, Jedi do wear robes, so maybe not that normal) for about 34 and 1/2 levels, and even during that half-level where she had a questionable outfit, it actually looked more like what someone would wear to go jogging on a hot day than something a prostitute would wear.

What’s sad about that is how unusual that is. I have a woman character who isn’t dressed like a bimbo and this was a remarkable thing. In fact, most of the women characters in TOR seem to be fairly well-covered, with the exception of, well. Exotic dancers. Who still wear more clothes than some of the armored fighter women in Aion.

The gaming community does need to get better, but generalizing about “the gaming community” as if it were one place with one type of people in it isn’t really a very good idea.

There are bad pockets within the gaming community and even within each individual game. There are also good pockets, though–I know several groups that make sure not just women and ethnic minorities but also gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people are welcome.

My gaming communities are pretty good, overall. The few jerks are more than counterbalanced by the quiet majority of nice, polite, friendly people, many of whom are, in fact, women. We’re a growing group in the larger “gaming community,” whatever that really is.

Of course, if my gaming communities weren’t pretty good, I wouldn’t stick with them. What fun would that be?

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The Wind Has a Message

Posted on January 24, 2012 by Kari Lucin

I generally keep chocolate around in case of an emergency, and today I opened up the foil on a fortune chocolate. That’s what I call those little individually-wrapped bite-sized portions of chocolate that have little sayings on the insides of their wrappers.

“The wind tells a story, listen.”

Only I live in the Midwest. Although we’ve successfully rehabilitated our wind to be used for energy and also, in some cases, windsurfing, it has a long history of being downright mean, and vindictive.

I suspect any message the wind has for me to end with the phrase “sleeps with the fishes,” frankly.

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Images of Absence and Presence in History

Posted on January 22, 2012 by Kari Lucin

I vividly remember just one thing from reading Sartre in college, and that’s a few paragraphs about how an absence can become almost a presence–if you’re looking for a waiter named Pierre and you survey a crowd, you notice not the crowd, but the absence of Pierre.

This collection of old photographs wasn’t meant to highlight the absence of the children’s mothers, but it does. Especially the ones where you can see the parental legs just sticking out, like in the photo at left. Click on the link for more surreal vanishing-parent photos.

Meanwhile, this collection of old photographs (from the 1860s) shows that kids are pretty much the same now as they were then, they just wear different clothes and also get told to smile at the camera.

Here’s a more recent collection: Posters from the WPA. Is it me or do they stylistically resemble the iconography of the Soviets? I wish I knew more about graphic design so I could identify the precise style. (No, I’m not implying the WPA was communist.)

Would you visit a nuclear resort? Here are some images to whet your appetite, in that case. Come for the radiation, stay for the beach?

And even weirder, this is how Tokyo prevents floods. It has a science-fiction bunker for containing water. I’m not even kidding. This looks like a set from some sort of post-apocalyptic drama or a Michael Jackson music video.

And finally, I’m really glad I never ordered anything from a mail-order form in a comic book. Geez, what scams! It’s kind of fun to look at them all, though.

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The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Apostrophes

Posted on January 16, 2012 by Kari Lucin

I’ve been saying it for years: the apostrophe is probably the most cruelly abused of any punctuation mark.

Think about it. Unlike the semicolon, which somewhat justifiably confuses the heck out of people because it’s not used very often, the apostrophe is so common that I’ve already used it three times in this post. You can hardly go a sentence without using an apostrophe these days, and it’s about time we started defending the poor things from the horrendous abuse people heap on them.

I’ve done it myself, when I’m in a hurry–it’s a sort of a brain-typo to think “its” and write “it’s,” and I certainly try to correct myself, even if it’s in a forum where correct grammar is as foreign as kuchen to a southwest Minnesotan.

But seriously, people. Protect the apostrophes.

They’re our friends, they do their sacred duty in creating lovely possessives and there is no reason to make them suffer.

It’s your duty, you’re on the hook for this one.

Join the fight. Take back the internet for the poor, benighted apostrophe.

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Ringtone Stops Symphony; Phone Owner Mortified

Posted on January 12, 2012 by Kari Lucin

Generally when I go to a meeting, I put my phone on vibrate.

I never feel like I can turn it off, because one never knows when there might be an ammonia leak, a catastrophic accident or a massive donation to a local school. Reporters, like pastors and police, are essentially on call all the time.

Every once in a while, very seldom, I forget to change my phone over to vibrate, and once or twice, this has resulted in a mortifying ringing during a meeting. It’s always incredibly embarrassing, I feel unprofessional and I feel like a big inconsiderate jerk on top of that.

But it could be so much worse.

Imagine having your phone ringing during a symphony at a massive concert hall. Only you don’t even recognize it’s your phone, because you turned your phone off. And it can’t be ringing, because it’s off. And it’s brand-new, and you’re not exactly sure how the dang thing works, but it’s off, that’s for sure. And then the director stops the symphony and glares at you for several minutes until your phone stops ringing.

The internet bays for your blood, people are calling you unconscionably rude and directing the sort of hate at you that used to be reserved for people who kick dogs and throw kittens off overpasses.

The moral of the story: Know how your phone works, and be sure you know how to turn it off.

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Hating on Iowa

Posted on January 8, 2012 by Kari Lucin

While I’ve never lived in Iowa, and though my home in southwest Minnesota has a healthy rivalry with its southern neighbor, I have to admit I like the state.

People there are friendly and helpful, and the lakes region features some of the most beautiful land I’ve ever seen–woods and fields nestled in between lakes close enough to be pearls on a necklace, each a sparkling blue gem on a summer’s day.

My dad works in Iowa, and he loves it there. The people in his congregation are welcoming and whenever I visit his church, folks ask how I am and what I’m up to, even though dad didn’t start preaching there until long after I’d moved away. They’re cool that way–free with kindness, and coffee too.

Southwest Minnesotans will tease Iowans, and I certainly have, many times. They do the same back, but it’s a friendly rivalry–there’s not a whole lot of cultural difference when the border’s only 20 miles or so south after all, and in actual fact everybody gets along pretty well. Iowa is Minnesota’s sibling. We tease because we love.

Which brings me to this, which is pretty much exactly the opposite of friendly and has absolutely nothing to do with love.

A journalism professor working in Iowa named Stephen G. Bloom, who’s lived there for about 20 years, wrote an article for the Atlantic pretty much tearing the state into tiny bleeding shreds. Clearly he’s not from Iowa himself. Not that there aren’t mean Iowans–I’m sure they exist, although I haven’t met one–but this article’s, well. Pretty darn mean.

How anybody could hate anywhere so much and still live there for 20 years baffles me. The amount of vitriol Bloom reserves for poor Iowa–which pays his salary, given he works at a state university–is astonishing.

If you can’t bring yourself to read the condescending, hateful article (and I couldn’t get too far with it), read James Lileks’ masterful takedown, which features probably as many excerpts as you’ll be able to stomach, if you’re like me and you have a fondness for Iowa.

There’s a parody here (with a bit of profanity included), which almost doesn’t work because the parody reads so much like the original it’s almost indistinguishable, making me wonder if the original wasn’t secretly intended as a parody. This guy also notes the similarity to a parody in his reply to the original article. And finally, here’s a somewhat nicer, more personal reply to Bloom’s original piece, which has a lot more real information about what Iowa’s like than Bloom’s does.

But don’t let Bloom get you down, Iowa. Your neighbors in Minnesota and now, North Dakota, still love you. Come on up for a little lunch some time, maybe a hotdish and some jello. You can even tease us about calling it a “salad.” We don’t mind.

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The Disappearing Spoon

Posted on January 6, 2012 by Kari Lucin

The Disappearing SpoonI received so many cool Christmas presents this year I haven’t even begun to work through all of them.

“The Disappearing Spoon” is one of them.

It’s a book about the periodic table of elements, but instead of a tedious account describing chemical properties or atomic structure, it’s a juicy book chock-full of curious vignettes about the discoverers, uses or misuses of various elements. It flits from element to element, with a deft touch, and includes enough scientific explanation to feel a bit educational–but not enough to weigh the book down.

I haven’t finished it yet, but I’m about 4/5 of the way through, and it’s a fantastic read for people who love little trivial tidbits of information.

For example, the Disappearing Spoon of the title refers to an old practical joke involving gallium (element 31). The metallic element melts at 84 degrees Fahrenheit, so you can put it in a spoon mold, serve it, and watch when people freak out because their coffee or tea has melted the spoon.

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Creepy Christmas Carols

Posted on December 19, 2011 by Kari Lucin

I love Christmas carols, but some of them are downright creepy if you think about the lyrics a bit.

I didn’t really notice it much until a colleague commented that “Baby It’s Cold Outside” may possibly be a story about sexual violence, rather than a harmless, coy flirtation between two people in love. Now I can’t hear the song without getting creeped out.

Then all of a sudden many Christmas songs seemed suspect. A friend commented on “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” whose lyrics are ominous at best: He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake.

That’s enough to give a kid nightmares, I’d say. Heck, that’s enough to give an adult nightmares. I’m gonna start keeping mace under my bed just in case.

And then there’s “Winter Wonderland,” in which a couple performs a mock marriage ceremony officiated by a snowman and later they “dream by the fire” about the plans they made. Yes, that’s what the song is really about. Which isn’t creepy, but it’s a little strange.

“Santa Baby” is a song dedicated to the me-first selfish mentality, and seems to be about a woman with a sugar daddy who she hopes will marry her. Weird at best, and creepily anti-feminist at worst.

I don’t know. I’m re-evaluating some of these Christmas tunes this year…

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The Least Menacing Menace Ever

Posted on December 9, 2011 by Kari Lucin

Evil snowglobe? I didn’t think even the SyFy channel could find a scary-movie menace that was this profoundly unmenacing, but apparently yes, they have made a movie about an evil snowglobe.

I am not joking.

This movie is about an evil snowglobe.

I’m guessing it’s going to make Snakes on a Plane look like a Cecil B. DeMille piece.

An evil snowglobe.

Really.

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The Long Dark Christmas Carol of the Soul

Posted on December 7, 2011 by Kari Lucin

My friends who work in retail are already beginning to get a little… funny… about having to listen to the same twenty or so Christmas carols over and over again at work.

I’m not sure this constitutes torture under the Geneva Convention, but it is certainly annoying. My workplace doesn’t play Christmas tunes over any sort of loudspeaker, and if it did, I would probably want to take an axe to said loudspeaker too.

I always maintain that the problem isn’t Christmas songs in and of themselves, so much as the painful lack of variety of said Christmas songs. There are literally hundreds and probably more like thousands upon thousands of Christmas tunes out there, yet our ears are assailed by the same 20-25 of them every single time we step into a store during the holiday season. Even the new Justin Bieber Christmas songs might be an improvement.

… okay, maybe not. But at least they’d be new.

The shame of it is how many great Christmas songs there are that simply don’t get played, because they’re weird, old, or just because Elvis hasn’t done a version of them. Instead they play Paul McCartney’s “Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time” which, Geneva Convention or not, is definitely torture.

So. Why do we keep singing Christmas carols? Here’s a wonderful article from Slate that examines the question, and gives the long history of Christmas songs–how the early Church hated pagan adaptations, how Puritans hated them and how the modern Christmas celebration arose.

And I also have two additions to my 12 Carols series, one of which is based on the other. Yes, I know that makes 14 carols, technically. What can I say, math has never been my area of expertise.

Lord of the Dance is only a quasi-Christmas carol. Its words were written in 1967, and it tells the story of Jesus’s life in first-person. It has absolutely nothing to do with Michael Flatley, I promise.

Lord of the Dance was based on Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day, however, which was a Christmas Carol, published in 1833, but traditional long before that.

They’ve disabled YouTube embedding for this one, but have a listen. It has a weird little syncopated rhythm, and I remember singing it once in choir. It was fun.

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