Search results for "critical code studies working group"
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[…]narrative structures than others. Even in these instances, the structure of the narrative is critical to the content of the work. In See/Saw, my collaborator Adam Chapman developed a narrative with a structure that is hinged to the physical action of the see-saw. The narrative consists of a cyclical audio monologue that loops without a logical beginning or end, as long as users see-saw continuously. For each phrase in the monologue, Chapman also wrote a split narration – a phrase told from a position of power and a phrase told from a position of compromise. When users stop the see-saw […]
[…]exploring interface, virtual and physical spatiality, and the potential operativeness (read: code-driven manipulation) of media-elements of which text is just one. 2) “How can we use new technologies to provoke us into a more sensually engaged relation to text in ways that don’t immediately re-inscribe these longstanding practices of repressing sensual response?” Computer-related environments open many potential new qualities of media authorship. This new authorship can be more or less embodied, but we must be clear that the body always becomes implicated in the cybernetic loop. The physics of these environments work through matter/energy exchanges — human/machine/human interaction. The question […]
[…]as problems. The map above (17.5a) represents about a month’s worth of messages posted to the group sci.environment. The map below (17.5b) represents the same newsgroup one month later. By comparing the two maps you can get some idea of how the group has changed over time. One thing that has remained stable between the two maps is the connection in the semantic networks between the terms “people” and “problem.” This is a clue that perhaps, in this newsgroup, people are seen to be one of the main causes of environmental problems. But a hypothesis like this that one can […]
[…]be expressed, while severely limiting their actual expressiveness. The command-line, programming code interface can conflict with the literary aspirations of the author. In online MOOs it is common to see verbose descriptions of spaces, whose tone and length evoke bookishness if not literary merit, combined with the restricted code of the command line. These two very different modalities create a discord, which is further heightened if the interactor is engaged in conversation with a character within the story. So IF has certain intrinsic design difficulties, a built-in awkwardness in the way it represents spatial navigation and the inconsistency with which […]
[…]make, really, if a “personality” we meet online has a single body, or instead, a computer or a group of authors behind it? If we assume that the relationship between body and personality (or role, or whatever we call it) is arbitrary (as has been argued of the relationship between sex and gender, for instance), it is surely irrelevant whether Caroline, or indeed Jill Walker, have bodies and hair. The Turing test was devised in 1950, when bodies were thought to determine our lives and the ways in which we act. Bodies and roles weren’t commonly thought of as arbitrary […]
[…]is always tension, dynamism, and a certain ambivalence in this relationship between flesh and code. To extend Hayles’ reading of Lexia to Perplexia, we might take this mediated relationship between bodies and technologies a little further: If the body of the subject engages in a kind of distributed agency in “reading” works such as Lexia to Perplexia, then what happens to the specificity of the embodied subject as marked by gender, race, language, and cultural difference? In other words, Lexia to Perplexia, in articulating a relationship between flesh and code, also puts a challenge to us: to what degree does […]
[…]that is likened to the concept of creole through the environmental neighboring of image, text and code, where the “code” operates on multiple levels. This creole embodies a circulation of “codes” and their disruption including the textual, the imagistic/graphical, and through computer-based code-related text and symbols. This “creolization” is accomplished through a series of textual puns and visual word/graphic/code plays as well as through the operative nature of the interactive encoded environment. The narrative that one gleans through navigation of this environment is associative and generates a rich conceptual field. The operative, mixed-semiotic nature of the environment enables the exploration […]
[…]and perhaps even a framework for integrating what we know about IF – assuming such a game studies theory does not react against “story” so strongly as to not admit something like IF, which generates narratives in response to typed text. To see IF as “new media,” and to add “play” and “conversation” to the ten perspectives I originally mentioned, offers thirteen ways of looking at interactive fiction, perhaps enough for a clear vision of sorts. The thirteen ways Wallace Stevens offered are, after all, also one way; they build on and speak to each other. Seeing IF as riddle […]
[…]John Tynes; Pagan Publishing. 1997. Dungeons and Dragons. Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson; Tactical Studies Rules (TSR). 1974. GURPS. Steve Jackson et al.; Steve Jackson Games. 1986. Unknown Armies. Greg Stolze and John Tynes; Atlas Games. […]
[…]version. Notice 1) The tone: you can hear the earnest “writer” trying to choose details, working to set the scene, to elicit emotion through the crude tactics of fiction writing. Here, it’s the writer as doe-eyed manipulator, so busy looking for the “meaningful detail” that the kid’s name, something that is an actual fact (arbitrary as a name is, in non-fiction) might be wrong. 2) You can see the difference a detail makes, especially when the next paragraphs read: Crystal was petite, just five-feet-one in her stocking feet. Crystal was petite, just five-feet- two in her lizard skin line-dancing boots. […]
[…]distinction between elements that are transferred and elements that are not. While he calls for a critical attitude towards computer games, he seems to believe that we uncritically introject integral virtual experiences. When acting in a simulation, we acquire skills. We will become better players and our reaction time, tactical insight and self-control may improve. Some of these skills will be transferred to the real world and there they can be used for better or for worse. However, I really do not see how killing a monster in Doom will make it any easier for me to kill another person. […]
[…]of depth or hiddenness, typically followed by a drama of exposure, that has been such a staple of critical work of the past four decades’ (8). This is because there is a certain `ease with which beneath and beyond turn from spatial descriptors into implicit narratives of, respectively, origin and telos’ (ibid). The crucial issue here is that the task cultural theory sets for itself is both unenviable and unnecessary: Beneath and behind are hard enough to let go of; what has been even more difficult is to get a little distance from beyond, in particular the bossy gesture of […]
[…]be true: neither is there `fiction.’ The categories of fiction and non-fiction belong to the critical system which I argue is found wanting in the context of `participatory media.’ Van Looy here is attesting to the significance of ongoing experiential engagement in participatory media. This is precisely the argument I make in my paper. Simon Penny, May 2004 back to Critical Simulation […]
[…]opportunities for dialogue about their emerging ubiquity in our everyday lives and support public, critical awareness of new media and technologies in a highly accessible way. Here, I think of the Citywide Project and the Equator Project, groups that have for several years now argued for the importance of staging public, technological performances as a design research tactic. In short, cyberdrama could make digital media and computer technologies visible in a way that has nothing to do with computer graphics. In conclusion, I believe that the dramatic story-game can be performed not only on PCs or consoles, as Murray, Mateas […]
[…]go go…home,” “Stay, don’t leave/ I need you to/ make my frontiers weaker” – and many critical remarks to us (the “you” on the page) – “You will never be me” and “You will never be able to understand me.” One of the commands says to go away; the other says to stay. One is asking, demanding even, that the viewer keep physical distance from her. The other is saying in a needy kind of a way that the viewer must stay close by. These commands nag at us. The first one says that being me is better than being […]
[…]the interactive entertainment world is high, meaning that every few years an almost entirely new group encounters and attempts to address the same craft-language deficit, with little or no success. (I have seen this happen myself at least three times in the past ten years, and my fear is that the academic community – through essays like Murray’s – is now embarking on a fourth iteration.) Worse, significant problems can arise when new definitions ignore (or are oblivious of) practical lessons that have already been learned. For example, here’s Murray at the end of her essay, talking about ‘agency’: “But […]
[…]of philosophical thought from Marxism to deconstructivism, not to mention communication and media studies, semiotics, gender studies, cognitive science, postcolonial studies etc. etc.? The field of game studies is now large enough to welcome these migrants from other theoretical discourses to its own area. Clearly, this process of integration will not be an easy one; it will require tolerance, diplomacy and patience. However, Markku’s attempt to “use the theories of colonizers against themselves” (36) runs counter to such an integrative strategy as it pours gasoline into the embers of the fiery debate between narratologists and ludologists. Not that we need […]
[…]and language for private communications beyond the male domain. My appropriation of programming code had taken on ontological elements; not only did the code create a programmatic, computer based universe which users could interact with, but it referred to, and reprised interesting traditions in women’s spirituality. The medieval mystic tradition that Christine alluded to seemed to have come full circle in the semi-medieval narrative of The Princess Murderer. Fear of reifying the machine as an entrée to metaphysical hermeneutics aside (which, as Victoria Nelson (280-284) points out, is an element of recent rhetoric surrounding the Internet and other computer-based media), […]
[…]take away Cyrus’ first pages while he hides behind a curtain. Perhaps I am following Dom’s Code of Welcomed Interruption, which “sprang from [his] sense that our state is now a Field-State of InterPoly force Vectors multimplicitly plodding toward Coordinate Availability and away from the hierarchical subordinations of the old tour-de-force antropols…” (141). For a long time, I had difficulty articulating what it was about McElroy’s writing that I found so captivating, so important. I found some help in an unlikely place: the introductory note to the second book of Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet, Balthazar. “Modern literature offers us no […]
[…]of McElroy’s handling of scientific knowledge and cross-disciplinary information systems. Critical readings of Joseph McElroy’s work, so often compared to, say, that of Thomas Pynchon, tend to overlook how much McElroy has in common with Grace Paley, herself a rigorous, avant-garde practitioner of complex fractured fictions. Paley, like McElroy, is a savvy surrealist of New York’s mental neighborhoods and a proponent of how, as she says, “history happens to you while you’re doing the dishes.” Sixteen of the “stories” that make up Women and Men appeared independently in literary magazines over the course of ten years (during the 1970s heyday […]