No More Cemeteries

What I find very intriguing is how even our treatment of trash will change in the future, and how it’s already different today. For instance, it was once not too difficult to list all the video games created, and keep track of how they’re doing. Interestingly, more and more media is becoming entirely digital, and usually stream able, or a combination. Why this is important is just how money, at some point became this number with no real physical connection in our lives. The information and entertainment we consume daily and from moment to moment has also lost its physical origin or connection. There are no cartridges. Sure there are CDs, DVDs, but none of these things are as mandatory as they once used to be. You HAD to buy a video game in a store. Now it’s all doable online.


In line with that, there are so many video games today. Development has also become more accessible, and so there are more and more additions every day. Most of them actually never see any form of attention or popularity, instead, they exist, but are never even born. We can look at Steam for instance. A game might be greenlit (given the green light to start development and its journey on Steam), yet still never see a large enough player base for anybody to find out. The interesting thing is, there are SO many video games that never see the light of day and we’re just entirely unaware of them. These games can’t even die properly because they’ve never had a life. In other words, I don’t think it’s possible for another instance of “E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial” (1982) to ever happen, because games flop even harder than ET ever did, but they never even exist in a physical form, so there’s nothing to really discard, we just kind of ignore them.

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Peace,

Duka

 

 

 

permutations of our conceptions of technological death

The description of the state of the E.T. cartridges which the author was researching is one of the many permutations of views that we hold regarding technology. Many of the works we have examined in class have portrayed technology as having a timeless element. There Will Come Soft Rain captured this sentiment most poignantly, as it’s narrative portrayed a technological system running many years after humanity’s demise. However, this poem also flirts with the concept of technology’s death, in a much more gruesome way than E.T.‘s burial was portrayed in the current reading. The polluted atmosphere of the Bradbury poem is common imagery held throughout almost all views on the death of technology. Where the house in There Will Come Soft Rain squirts green bile from itself as it attempts to smother a fire, I imagine much more toxic pollutants will leach from the reactive metals used in constructing game cartridges (and whatever else the article classifies as “eWaste”). What I am ultimately driving at with these two examples is that what we consider to be the death of technology, in whatever form that may take, is an incredibly damaging thing to the health of the earth, and it is important for that connotation to carry through in portrayals of technological death such as the eWaste graveyard where the copies of E.T. were buried.

In an ironic twist, the lifespan of E.T. described by the article would have gone largely unknown if it were not for the “death” which the game experienced by having several thousands copies buried in a landfill. That spectacle turned a terrible Atari game into a cultural monolith, something gamers could point to as “the worst game ever made”.  It’s persistence after death has cultural significance which some of us have studied through our last class project and deserves to be further related to other works we have studied.

The reality of technological death and “ewaste”

 

Fetishizing Trash: Atari and Material Lifecycles

In 1982, Atari dumped what was dubbed by numerous video game critics as the “worst game ever made” into a landfill in a nondescript New Mexico town. E.T.  The Extra Terrestrial sales bombed. So, it was loaded into trucks and driven off to be crushed, buried and forgotten about.

Years later, conspiracy theories, curiosity,  academic research and even a Canadian entertainment company bent on uncovering Atari’s trash swirl around this dumping story.

Why? By all accounts, it was terrible game. No one seemed to enjoy playing it; consumers returned the game en masse and retailers slashed the prices, unable to sell more. It was developed in only five weeks. It lacked interesting game-play and had awful graphics. Raiford Guins wrote that the little alien looked “too haggard” for comfort. (217). It seems like most of the play experience involved falling into pits over and over again.

It again begs the question — why is there all this fanfare for such a terrible game?

Typically, Guins points out, the dumping process is not publicized or even in public view. It hurts to see the objects we imbue with so much social power — objects that become fetishistic representations of self, social relationships and all kinds of other abstract human concepts — become trash. The symbols we attached are shed and all that’s left is a physical, material shell. The magic is lost and the use value comes too sharply into focus — we have to look away.

It’s perhaps why dumping grounds can elicit anxiety, sadness, and dread. Perhaps it’s also why the US exports up to 40% of our e-waste overseas. It’s easier to bear if it’s out of sight. Trash reveals the “doleful truthfulness” of objects; we are literally driven to a state of mourning when confronted with objects severed from their fetishistic dimensions. (Guins, 227).

A landfill in Austin, TX. Landfills could almost be characterized as ‘uncanny’ spaces; they unsettle the way we interact with objects in our daily lives by instead presenting them as disposable and wholly material.

Atari’s E.T. game was trash, technically — was was crushed by bulldozers and packed beneath the ground with dirt. However, something interesting happened: it wasn’t forgotten and it hasn’t seemed to take on the “doleful” characteristic of other trash.

The process of secrecy and new-found rarity drew people’s attention and maintained interest the game. The cartridge may have lost its status as a usable game with desirable gameplay, but it gained status as a concrete emblem of video game history. It fits neatly into the myth of Atari by providing a physical representation. The game itself may be buried in the ground, but mystery, rarity, and its capacity to concretize history all prevent it from decomposing as trash. E.T. may have been dead and buried in the 1980s, but today it is still alive and well in the social mind.

The 2014 Fuel Industries excavations of the Alamogordo, NM landfill where Atari dumped. Photo taken by Chris Kohler.
Fuel Industries actually unearthed Atari cartridges during their excavation! Photo by Chris Kohler.

Works Cited:

Guins, Raiford. “Landfill Legend.” Game After: A Cultural Study of Video Game Afterlife. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 2014. 207-35.

Real & Unreal, Dead & Alive, Believable & Disbelief

I am not going to reference any of our discussions in class or topics we have covered in readings. Station Eleven is obviously a great book and I want to talk about it in a vacuum. I want to cover how this book exudes such a sense of realism in such an unrealistic situation; how fantastical it is but also so emotionally compelling that draws you in.

The beginning reminded me of a movie, where we are immediately dropped into a fast-moving environment. The characters we are attached to in the beginning not only introduce the Georgia Flu so well, but they are engaging and, just so damn human. While we only know Jeevan for a single chapter, I understood his thought process and felt a connection with his emotional decisions and rationalizing.

While the first chapter feels stand-alone at times, Station Eleven does such a good job of intertwining different points of the story in ways you wouldn’t expect. Like how Jeevan’s photograph of the man who suffered a heart attack was in a magazine that one of the survivors of the Traveling Symphony carries around and reads religiously. The novel just does such a good job of making these connections feel natural. We know they are creations of the author, that they are not believable coincidences, but they are just so well executed that I liked and accepted them.

It didn’t hit me until chapter 11, when the author draws the parallels of the plague that hit during Shakespeare’s time to the Georgia Flu. Things like this, themes like the rebirth of society, the aspiring nature of man to do more than survive, or our resilience as a species, they are all such tropes that are overdone in every other post-apocalyptic work but somehow work well here. I feel like this blog post has been overly gushing, but reading through this first section I keep looking up from the book and realizing how much I’ve been sucked into the emotionally compelling story that I let any sense of believably fly over my head.

I’m including a gif from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream because it seems appropriate.

A Fairy from the 1935 Film A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Sourced from Tumblr.

 

So Bad It’s Good?

Dr. Ford in the English department has talked about how he’s very interested in the “aesthetics of badness” and I confess that I am too.  Awful films or TV shows can be so enjoyable in that so-bad-it’s-good way and often develop serious cult followings.   But this doesn’t seem to be the case with the E.T. Atari game.  So I’m interested in what distinguishes good-bad from bad-bad.  To illustrate, I have two pieces of E.T. media to share.

(E.T. Atari let’s play video by YouTube user J.C.’s Channel.  Click the title and it will take you right back to the source)

(The musical masterpiece “ET Where R U” from “Themes for Television, Sports, & Aerobics,” directed and produced by George H Semper.  Again, the title will take you right back to the source.  The song has a really long intro, so skip to 2:45 for the good stuff.  I’m using the term “good” loosely here)

Initially, I thought that maybe any video game with bad, clumsy game play would be despised.  I’m not much of a gamer myself, but I imagine there’s a great degree of frustration when playing an unnecessarily difficult game.  However, I did a bit of research on the best worst video games, and plenty of games made the list that were criticized for having really terrible game play.

So instead, here’s my conclusion.  We can appreciate art for two reasons: 1. it is a good piece of art or 2. it makes us feel good.  To be enjoyed, you have to meet only one of the categories.   I will admit freely that the first Captain America movie is not a good film from a critical standpoint, but it brings me joy.  Similarly, I appreciate Logan as one of the best superhero movies ever made, but I have no intention of ever sitting through it again, because it was extremely depressing.

So “ET Where R U” is an awful song.  It doesn’t meet criterium one.  But it’s just absurd enough to be really funny, therefore meeting criterium two, and therefore gets to be good-bad.

Just watching the play-through of the ET video game is maddening and frankly, pretty boring.  And from an aesthetic, artistic standpoint, it’s just not that good.  So, meeting neither criteria, it’s bad-bad.

I could see, perhaps in an alternate universe, the ET Atari game being a cult classic as a good-bad game if it were any fun to play.

To illustrate my point, here’s yet another YouTube video of some “so bad they’re good” games.  The difference between the ET video and these games is clear.  They’re garbage, but redeemed because they’re funny or enjoyable.  ET, unfortunately, is just plain bad.

(Accessed from the WhatCulture Gaming YouTube channel)

 

Burying Our Mistakes

Reading about the landfill excavation that unearthed Atari video games made me think about other instances in history during which American companies “hid” potential setbacks, mistakes, or failures. My mind immediately raced to the “Syringe Tide,” an environmental disaster that occurred from 1987-1988 where significant amounts of medical waste, particularly hypodermic syringes were washed up onto the beaches in New Jersey, New York City, and Long Island. Hospitals decided to discard the medical waste in the ocean to avoid extra costs associated with the government regulations, figuring they could save money by burying their problem at sea. However, when the medical waste was found, hundreds of thousands of vacationers were driven away, causing places such as the Jersey Shore to lose much revenue in tourism as well widespread skepticism regarding public health in general. I also thought about the movie Erin Brockovich, a dramatization of the story of Erin Brockovich, played by Julia Roberts, who fought in a real estate case against the energy corporation Pacific Gas and Electric Company (PG&E) which polluted a city’s water supply with hexavalent chromium. It was not until Brockovich looked under the surface that she discovered how many residents in the area were poisoned by the toxic waste, leading her to succeed in one of the biggest class action lawsuits in American history. Although these examples differ in content and form, an examination of them led me to the conclusion that we bury our mistakes simply because we can, and yet, many of them are eventually uncovered.

Medicinal waste washed up on the Jersey Shore. View source here.

During Easter Break, I decided to watch the documentary entitled, Atari: Game Over which explores the burial and excavation site in Alamogordo, New Mexico more in depth. The film brought light to many of the success of Atari, considering it to be “the future of technology.” It also highlighted the idea that it has become “fashionable” to say that E.T. was the worst video game of all time, when in actuality, it was not, and was certainly not the sole reason for the company’s downfall. Many people in the documentary reiterated the point that the E.T. game was not buried because of it was the worst game ever, rather it has become known as the worst game ever because it was buried. While society has become quick to “trash” games and game designs both physically and verbally, hiding our mistakes from the public view has also become part of our history. After thinking about this more, was there a valid justification for the Atari burial site to be unearthed? If the site is looked at as being Atari’s funeral, was it ethical to dig it up? Why does society feel the need to reclaim “dead” technology?

An image from the movie, Atari: Game Over. View source here. 

Unlocking your fingerprint passcode without your fingers

Passcodes can be hacked, but now it seems that fingerprints can be hacked too. A pair of detectives asked Anil Jain, a professor of computer science and engineering at Michigan State University, to help them unlock a phone that was evidence in a murder investigation. The victim’s Samsung Galaxy S6 phone required fingerprint identification to unlock. The detectives already had the victim’s fingerprints (he had been arrested before) on plain printer paper. However, human skin is conductive and the whorls and ridges on our fingerprints create unique conductive patterns that biometric use. So the computer scientists tried printing copies of the fingerprints onto special conductive paper (similar to photographic paper). After some trial and error, the team was able to digitally enhance a victim’s fingerprints and print these improved images onto conductive paper, successfully giving detectives access to his phone.

The fingerprint passcode for the Samsung Galaxy S6.

What gave me pause toward the end of the article was the distinction between an alphanumeric passcode and a fingerprint passcode in the courts. A passcode is considered an intangible thought in the owner’s mind and so police can’t order a suspect to reveal his or her password. But a fingerprint is physical evidence, like blood, so the suspect can be ordered to produce his or her fingerprints. By this logic, a person who is concerned about the police requisitioning their phone should always use an alphanumeric passcode as a precaution. You can be legally forced to unlock your phone if you use a fingerprint passcode so an alphanumeric passcode would protect you from that situation. Yet breaking that passcode is much simpler – watch the person enter the code, see if there is a pattern on the glass, guessing birthdays or other common passwords, etc.

For the detectives, the phone they were trying to access belonged to a deceased man. Since he was the victim, the detectives were allowed to access his phone. The victim’s fingerprints were already on file so the detectives didn’t need to request his fingerprints. But what should the average person do if they are concerned about the privacy of their phone after their death? In the interest of preserving privacy, should people request that their phone password be changed to an alphanumeric code by a trusted loved one before they die? This would preserve their phone from being used by any law enforcement and would give the loved one access to the phone. Or should a person use a fingerprint passcode, which would allow the police access to their phone but would restrict their friends and family from accessing the phone? In a way, I suppose it depends on what kind of secrets your phone holds and who you’re trying to keep them from: the police or your loved ones.

Being foreign is the equivalent of having green blood

With the introduction of the internet to our lives the dynamic of communication has changed forever. One significant change is the fact that our present is most different from any other time in our history, or at least has the potential to be. What I mean by that is that we aren’t using the full potential of the internet and our present technology to change our current reality. We’re merely adapting this new technology to our old ways. Instead of using the internet to better communicate and prevent propaganda and ignorance, we use it to further confuse and manipulate reality.

Kocurek writes about using green blood for enemies in video games to make killing them seem less impact and important. That enemy, with green blood, is someone other, someone unlike me, so it’s okay. This is a very troubling line of thinking which we actually employ heavily in the western world. Take a look at Hollywood for instance, and count how many villains are foreign people. It’s troubling, because xenophobia is an incredibly dangerous phobia which can one day even end the world, or at least the human race. Making a villain foreign is the equivalent of giving the villain green blood. The only difference is that being foreign is a very common thing, having green blood isn’t real. The green blood in our reality comes in the form of accents we’re used to seeing on “bad guys” in any kind of media.

The sad thing is it’s just bad writing. The problem isn’t that the villain is foreign, but that most times, the villain isn’t given the spotlight enough to connect with the audience. It’s actually a very powerful and important part of writing, that when executed successfully, tends to create much better stories. The Dark Knight is a great example of that, but there are many others. The Joker becomes a character we understand better and in many ways sympathize with. When a “bad guy” is shot, and the only thing we ever learn about them is that they have an accent, or they’re wearing a turban or whatever, then that’s just shallow writing. I am a firm believer that viewers of all media should always care when a death happens. We shouldn’t be desensitizing people to death, we should be working towards an approach where we treat the deaths of others like we do of our own.

 

Tesla Magic

We’ve read articles on the dangers of the auto-driving Tesla features, the fears of depending on artificial intelligence, the future of technology in our everyday lives.

But however much some people may fear the advancement of technology, we will continue to be enamored with the progress of technology. Tesla’s technology isn’t perfect – far from the futuristic intentions of a self-driving car. Yet, Tesla is the hottest car on the market. On April 10th, The Washington Post reported that Tesla is the most valuable car company in America. Even when the car is ridiculously expensive and the company ends up losing money with profit versus the cost of producing the car, the shares of the company continue to rise.

The technology surrounding the Tesla is captivating for people. Much of that draw is due to the founder of the company, Elon Musk. A billionaire businessman and entrepreneur, Musk is responsible for some of the most innovative technological companies of the 21st century. In addition to Tesla, Musk also runs SpaceX, a new private space firm that may take rich people up into space for commercial reasons in the near future.

Photo of Elon Musk, courtesy of his Twitter page.

When celebrities are involved, the products that they stand by are sought after, even if all the bugs haven’t been worked out yet. We’ve seen in the news articles that the Tesla can kill you when the auto-pilot tool doesn’t work probably. Death by robot is not what the companies Musk runs are aiming for, but many of them are dangerous enough to potentially lead to that if anything goes wrong. In the “Death by Robot” article by The New York Times that we read for class, they talk about how cars have to know how to play the “game” of navigating the world of driving, which involves making decisions based on the environment around you. Tesla isn’t ready for this yet – the car can drive itself at one speed, but can’t make decisions that humans can to completely drive from one place to another.

But as long as Elon Musk continues to promote the virtues of the Tesla, and his influence continues to spread far beyond the sphere of business, his shares and public interest in his advanced cars will continue to climb. The Washington Post lists his worth at $14.5 billion, and his influence extends to the Trump administration, tech companies, and the general public. Tesla isn’t the self-driving car of the yet, but with the celebrity figure of Elon Musk backing it, regardless of the technology, people will keep buying it.

The Darker Afterlife of Electronics

While the story behind “Landfill Legend,” and the dump of Atari E.T. games was charming, particularly with its myth-like status and cult following, I had always been warned that the life cycle of electronics as detailed by Raiford Guins had a far more nefarious end. My parents and older brother would chastise me about tossing batteries or electronics in the trash because of the environmental consequences. However, I recalled a NYT article I once read that argued the health risks of our electronic disposal system are more immediate than even their long-term environmental consequences. I tried to hunt it down, and whether it is the same article or not, I found one detailing the conditions of electronic dumps in third world countries. Leyla Acaroglu describes what happens to our digital devices after they’re dumped: “In India, young boys smash computer batteries with mallets to recover cadmium, toxic flecks of which cover their hands and feet as they work. Women spend their days bent over baths of hot lead, “cooking” circuit boards so they can remove slivers of gold inside.” Acaroglu paints a picture of the legacy of our electronic devices that is quite a bit darker than Guin’s statement of the legacy of the Atari dump: “the invisible presence of decaying matter deep below my feet attests to a complex life history, one pieced together and sustained by the various projects that refuse to forget (234).” While tracing the afterlife of our electronic devices certainly may tell us a lot about where they came from, it’s hard for me to focus on much other than the relatively gruesome health and environmental consequences.

An image of an electronic dump from “Where Do Old Cellphones Go to Die?”
www.nytimes.com/2013/05/05/opinion/sunday/where-do-old-cellphones-go-to-die.html%5B/caption%5D

Acaroglu, Leyla. “Where Do Old Cellphones Go to Die?” The New York Times. 4 May 2013. www.nytimes.com/2013/05/05/opinion/sunday/where-do-old-cellphones-go-to-die.html.

Guins, Raiford. “Landfill Legend.” Game After: A Cultural Study of Video Game Afterlife. USA: MIT Press, 207-235.