Object permanence: Sony DRM nonpology; Misprinted prefab houses; Canada's repair law can't be fixed; BNL's USB-stick release; Pornoscanners vs pleats; The Internet will always suck.
The games industry's self-induced traumatic brain injury (permalink)
Words have power. In 1991, I read "The Wonderful Power of Storytelling," the transcript of Bruce Sterling's keynote speech for that year's Game Developers Conference in San Jose, CA, and within a year, I'd dropped out of university to become a programmer:
Bruce's speech wasn't the only reason I dropped out, but it's certainly been the most durable, and I frequently return to it in my mind as I navigate the difficult and turbulent waters of art and technology. In particular, I've had much cause to ponder Sterling's ideas about the very weird way that game developers relate to their art-form's history:
My art, science fiction writing, is pretty new as literary arts go, but it labors under the curse of three thousand years of literacy. In some weird sense I’m in direct competition with Homer and Euripides. I mean, these guys aren’t in the SFWA, but their product is still taking up valuable rack-space. You guys on the other hand get to reinvent everything every time a new platform takes over the field. This is your advantage and your glory. This is also your curse. It’s a terrible kind of curse really…
…A lot of our art aspires to the condition of software, our art today wants to be digital… But our riches of information are in some deep and perverse sense a terrible burden to us. They’re like a cognitive load. As a digitized information-rich culture nowadays, we have to artificially invent ways to forget stuff. I think this is the real explanation for the triumph of compact disks…
…The real advantage of CDs is that they allow you to forget all your vinyl records. You think you love this record collection that you’ve amassed over the years. But really the sheer choice, the volume, the load of memory there is secretly weighing you down…
…By dumping the platform you dump everything attached to the platform and my god what a blessed secret relief. What a relief not to remember it, not to think about it, not to have it take up disk-space in your head…
…I’ve noticed though that computer game designers don’t look much to the past. All their idealized classics tend to be in reverse, they’re projected into the future. When you’re a game designer and you’re waxing very creative and arty, you tend to measure your work by stuff that doesn’t exist yet…
… I can see that it’s very seductive, but at the same time I can’t help but see that the ground is crumbling under your feet. Every time a platform vanishes it’s like a little cultural apocalypse…
…I can imagine a time when all the current platforms might vanish, and then what the hell becomes of your entire mode of expression?
Even by the high standards of a Bruce Sterling keynote, this is a very good one, and Sterling does that amazing thing where he's iterating different ways of making this point, examining it from every angle, and it makes it hard ro excerpt it for an article like this. I mean, you should just go and read the whole thing and then come back, honestly:
But the reason I quote those specific excerpts above is because of what they say about the strange terror and exhilaration of working without history, of inhabiting a world shorn of all object permanence. This was a very live question in those days. In 1993, Wired's Jargon Watch column ran a definition for "Pickling":
Archiving a working model of a computer to read data stored in that computer's format. Apple Computer has pickled a shrink-wrapped Apple II in a vault so that it can read Apple II software, perhaps in the not-too-distant future.
In 1996, Brewster Kahle founded the Internet Archive, with the mission to save every version of every web-page, ever, forever. Today, the Archive holds more than a trillion pages:
Digital media are paradoxical: on the one hand, nothing is easier to copy than bits. That's all a computer does, after all: copy things. What's more mass storage gets cheaper and faster and smaller every year, on a curve that puts Moore's Law to shame.
After dropping out of university, I got a job programming multimedia CD ROMs for The Voyager Company, and they sent me my first 1GB drive, which was the size of a toaster, weighed 3lbs and cost $4,000.
30 years later, I've just upgraded my laptop's SDD from 2TB to 4TB: it cost less than $300, and is both the size and weight of a stick of gum. It's 4,000 times larger, at least 10,000 times faster, is 98% lighter, and cost 97% less.
We can store a hell of a lot of data for not very much money. And at that price, we can back it up to hell and back: I rotate two backup drives at home, keeping one off-site and swapping them weekly; I also have another drive I travel with and do a daily backup on. Parts of my data are also backed up online to various cloud systems that are, themselves, also backed up.
And while drives do fail, drives that are attached to computers that people use every day tend to fail gracefully in that their material defects typically make themselves felt over time, giving ample warning (at least for attentive users) that it's time to replace them.
Given the spectacular improvements in mass storage, there's also no problem migrating data from one system to the next. Back in the 1990s, I stored a ton of my data offline and near-line, on fragile media like floppies, Zip cartridges and DAT cassettes. I pretty much never conducted a full inventory of these disks, checking to see if they were working, much less transferring them to new media. That meant that at every turn, there was the possibility that the media would have rotted; and with every generation, there was the possibility that I wouldn't be able to source a working drive that was capable of reading the old media.
But somewhere in there, storage got too cheap to meter. I transferred all those floppies – including some Apple ][+ formatted 5.25" disks I'd had since the early 1980s – to a hard drive, which was subsequently transferred to a bigger hard drive (which, paradoxically, was much smaller!) and thence to another bigger (and smaller) drive and so on, up to the 4TB drive that's presently about 7mm beneath my fingers as I type these words.
This data may not be immortal, but it's certainly a lot more loss-resistant than any comparable tranche of data in human history.
Data isn't the whole story, of course. To use the data, you have to be able to open it in a program. There, too, the problems of yesteryear have all but vanished. First came the interoperable programs, which reverse-engineered these file formats so they could be read and written with increasing fidelity to the programs they were created in:
But then came the emulators and APIs that could simply run the old programs on new hardware. After all, computers are always getting much faster, which means that simulating a computer that's just a few years old on modern hardware is pretty trivial. Indeed, you can simulate multiple instances of the computer I wrote CD ROMs for Voyager on inside a browser window…on your phone:
Which meant that, for quite some time, Bruce's prophecy of games living in an eternal ahistorical now, an art form whose earlier works are all but inaccessible, was dead wrong. Between emulators (MAME) and API reimplementations (WINE), a gigantic amount of gaming history has been brought back and preserved.
What's more, there's a market for this stuff. Companies like Good Old Games have gone into business licensing and reviving the games people love. But it keeps getting harder, because of a mix of "Digital Rights Management" (the "copy-protection" that games companies pursue with a virulence that borders on mania) and the difficulty of tracking down rightsholders:
And doing this stuff without permission is a fraught business, because the big games companies hate games preservation and wage vicious war on their own biggest fans to stamp it out:
Which means that the games preservation effort is coming full circle, back to Bruce Sterling's 1991 description of "the ground crumbling under your feet"; of an endless series of "little cultural apocalypses."
It doesn't have to be this way. The decades since Bruce's talk proved that games can and should be preserved, that artists and their audiences need to continue to access these works even if the companies that make them would rather "reinvent everything every time a new platform takes over the field" and not have to be "in direct competition with Homer and Euripides."
The "Stop Killing Games" consumer movement is trying to save the library that games publishers have been trying to burn down since the 1990s:
It's a good tactical goal. After all, it's manifestly "unfair" to charge you money for a game and then take the game away later, whether that's because you don't want to pay to keep the servers on (or let someone else run them), or because you don't want the old game to exist in order to coerce your customers into buying a new one.
Or both.
No matter the reason, there is nothing good about the games industry's decades-long project of erasing its own past. It's bad for gamers, it's bad for game developers, and it's bad for games. No art form can exist in a permanent, atemporal now, with its history erased as quickly as it's created.
"Red Team Blues": "A grabby, compulsive thriller that will leave you knowing more about how the world works than you did before." Tor Books http://redteamblues.com.
"Chokepoint Capitalism: How to Beat Big Tech, Tame Big Content, and Get Artists Paid, with Rebecca Giblin", on how to unrig the markets for creative labor, Beacon Press/Scribe 2022 https://chokepointcapitalism.com
"The Reverse Centaur's Guide to AI," a short book for Farrar, Straus and Giroux about being an effective AI critic. FIRST DRAFT COMPLETE AND SUBMITTED.
A Little Brother short story about DIY insulin PLANNING
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"When life gives you SARS, you make sarsaparilla" -Joey "Accordion Guy" DeVilla
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Yesterday I hosted a lunch-dinner ("linner") in honour of the anniversary of the screening of the classic 1933 Marx brother's film "Duck Soup", which was not only prescient at the time but also has some serious parallels for contemporary times; "Hail, hail, Freedonia, land of the brave and free". The movie, except for the title scene, doesn't actually feature any ducks because, in the idiomatic language of the time, it meant something easy rather than a literal soup (see also the Laurel and Hardy film of the same name in 1927). However, that didn't stop me producing an international feast spanning the day using ducks from Thailand to produce Mexican Gazpacho with Duck, Kerala Duck Masala, Cantonese Duck Soup, Malay Peranakan Duck Laksa, French Garbure Duck Stew, American Roast Duck Song, Polish Czernina Duck Blood Soup, along with Senegalese Duck Chocolate Dates and, of course, Fluffy Duck cocktails, with the evening concluding with a screening of the film.
With about a dozen attendees, there was one moment where I realised I had more guests than chairs, and I was concerned whether I had made enough food (my guests would disagree). Despite my errors in calculation, the company and conversation were absolutely superb, scintillating even, probably because I have mostly followed Seneca's advice for selecting friends (albeit unconsciously) for most of my life. Special thanks are due to Anthony L., for producing the Catonese duck soup (he is both Cantonese and really knows how to cook), whereas he American Roast Duck Song (not a soup) is derived from the famous Youtube song; I'll probably make my own video in the near future of this recipe. Maybe I can find a friendly musician to add a tune to it. In any case, the sufficient variety has led me to put up a series of recipes and photos to honour this day.
In other international news that is not duck-related, I have completed the skill tree for Duolingo Spanish, just as the final section's units increased from 34 to 180 units, which is frankly a bit much. Still, it must be said that Spanish is a language in which Duolingo does a pretty good job, partially because of the geographical proximity and the number of learners, ergo the corporate effort. According to their CEFR values, completing the course puts on in the high B2 category, which is possibly true on the written level but also requires a great deal of spoken exposure to the experience, which hopefully I will be getting in a few weeks with my inaugural grand tour of South America.
The address that I use for this newsletter has long since been overrun by nonsense. Seemingly every PR and marketing firm in existence has gleefully added it to the various mailing lists that they use to convince their clients that they offer global reach. I recently received, for example, a message announcing a new uranium mining venture. Yesterday morning, someone helpfully sent me a note to alert me that “CPI Aerostructures Reports Third Quarter and Nine Month 2025 Results.”
Here’s the problem: this is also the address where my readers send me interesting notes about my essays, or point me toward articles or books they think I might like. I want to read these messages, but they’re often hidden beneath unruly piles of digital garbage.
So, I decided to see if AI could solve my problem.
The tool I chose was called Cora, as it was among the more aggressive options available. Its goal is to reduce your inbox to messages that actually require your response, summarizing everything else in a briefing that it delivers twice a day.
Cora’s website notes that, on average, ninety percent of our emails don’t require a reply, “so then why do we have to read them one by one in the order they came in?” Elsewhere, it promises: “Give Cora your Inbox. Take back your life.”
This all sounded good to me. I activated Cora and let it loose.
~~~
I detail the story of my experience with Cora in my latest article for The New Yorker, which is titled “Why Can’t A.I. Manage My E-Mail?”, and was published last week.
Ultimately, the tool did a good job. This inbox has indeed been reduced to a much smaller collection of messages that almost all actually interest me. The AI is sometimes overzealous and filters some messages that it should have left behind, but I can find those in the daily briefings, and nothing that arrives here is urgent business, so the stakes are low.
The bigger question I ask in this article, however, is whether AI will soon be able to go beyond filtering messages to answering them on our behalf, automating the task of email altogether. This would be a big deal:
I’ve come to believe that the seemingly humble task of checking e-mail—that unremarkable, quotidian backbeat to which digital office culture marches—is something more profound. In 1950, Alan Turing argued in a seminal paper that the question “Can machines think?” can be answered with a so-called imitation game, in which a computer tries to trick an interrogator into believing it’s human. If the machine succeeds, Turing argued, we can consider it to be truly intelligent. Seventy-five years later, the fluency of chatbots makes the original imitation game seem less formidable. Yet no machine has yet conquered the inbox game. When you look closer at what actually goes into this Sisyphean chore, an intriguing thought emerges: What if solving e-mail is the Turing test we need now?
Cora, as it turns out, cannot solve the Inbox Game – it can organize your messages, but not handle them on your behalf. Neither can any other tool I surveyed, from SuperHuman to SaneBox. As I go on to explain in my article, this is not for lack of trying: there are key technical obstacles that make answering emails something AI tools aren’t yet close to solving.
I encourage you to read my full article for the entire computer science argument. But I want to emphasize here the conclusion I reached: even with their current constraints, which limit AI-based tools mainly to filtering and summarizing messages, there’s still much room for them to evolve into increasingly interesting and useful configurations.
In my article, for example, I watched a demo of an experimental AI tool that transforms the contents of your inbox into a narrative “intelligence briefing.” You then tell the tool in natural language what you want it to do – “tell Mary to send me a copy of that report and I’ll take a look” – and it writes and sends messages on your behalf. The possibilities here are intriguing!
Here’s how I ended my piece:
“Although A.I. e-mail tools will probably remain constrained…they can still have a profound impact on our relationship with a fundamental communication technology. …Recently, I returned from a four-day trip and opened my Cora-managed inbox. I found only twenty-four new e-mails waiting for my attention, every one of them relevant. I was still thrilled by this novel cleanliness. Soon, a new thought, tinged with some unease, crept in: This is great—but how could we make it better? I’m impatient for what comes next.”
This is the type of AI that interests me. Not super-charged chatbot oracles, devouring gigawatts of energy to promise me wise answers to any conceivable query, or the long-promised agents that can automate my tasks completely. But instead, practical improvements to chores that have long been a source of anxiety and annoyance.
I don’t need HAL 9000; an orderly inbox is enough for now.
The Kwan Dao—also written Guan Dao, Kwan Tou, or Kwan Dao—is one of the most iconic and culturally charged weapons in the Chinese martial tradition. Its sweeping blade, heavy iron ring, long wooden haft, and unmistakable profile make it stand out immediately on any weapons rack. Yet the Kwan Dao [Read More]
Fragment of an Attic Black Figure pot with a duel, painted around 550-545 BCE. Getty Museum, Malibu, object
86.AE.112 under a Creative Commons license.
Over on his website historian Bret Devereaux has started a series on debates about early Greek warfare. The first post in that series is well worth reading. It puts me in a dilemma because I see some things differently than he does, but I can’t spare the time for such a lengthy and carefully footnoted essay. So I will respond with four theses about those academic controversies, using vivid bloggy writing and linking to my earlier posts and academic publications. I will follow his lead by avoiding discussion of Victor Davis Hanson’s political project although I had to address it in my review of The Other Greeks. Hanson’s ideas about early Greek warfare were not original in 1989. His great achievement was expressing them in clear and contemporary language which spread outside the lecture hall and the seminar room.
First, I agree with Devereaux that there were two debates: one about what happened on ancient Greek battlefields, and the other whether Greek warfare was basically the same everywhere from 750 to 432 BCE, or varied across time and space. These two debates are not inherently connected and many people have put forward theories about combat mechanics without claiming that these theories have some profound implications for ancient cultures. Roel Konijnendijk ignored the debate about massed shoves or metaphorical pushes in his monograph on early Greek warfare without that affecting his argument. Many scholars argued against a massed push by whole lines of hoplites without arguing that Greek warfare varied from place to place and time to time.
Second, I think that the debate about hoplite battles is undecided, while the debate about revolution or gradual change ended in a decisive victory by the Krentz-van Wees school (the former heretics). Neither the California School (Victor Davis Hanson and sympathizers) with their ideas about rugby scrums, nor the Krentz-van Wees school with their ideas about loose crowds of soldiers, had ideas about how battles worked which convince most thoughtful observers. This is understandable since none of them had much experience in combat sports and none sought out people with that experience before forming their basic views.
Third, in many ways, the intense scholarly debate about combat mechanics, and emotional language like “orthodoxy” and “heretics,” disguised how much the parties agreed about. The debate about ancient Greek warfare from 1989 to 2013 was a classical philologist’s game (and incidentally an American and British man’s game). Victor Davis Hanson made an argument based on texts describing southern mainland Greece, supplemented with a casual use of archaeology and art from the wider Greek world, and critics responded with more rigorous arguments about the same type of evidence. They didn’t have to learn about Egyptian paintings or the Stele of the Vultures or weapons in Italian tombs. Even an adventurous scholar like Hans van Wees leaned heavily on a single comparison (with war in Highland New Guinea before the gun) and that was one of the most controversial aspects of his theories. The two sides were in agreement about how to fight, like Georgian duelists counting out their paces in some foggy field.
Fourth, the debate drastically shifted in 2013. On one hand, van Wees’ former student Josho Brouwers published a book on early Greek warfare which centered archaeology and put Greece in its broader cultural context. Archaic Greece was not much like Pericles’ Athens, proud of its separation from and superiority to barbarians, and more like the Norse world of the Viking Age, eagerly learning from, mixing with, and robbing Slavs, Persians, Romans, Franks, and Irish. Many cultures in the eastern Mediterranean had lines of spearmen with bronze helmets and large shields, and the ancients said that many nations other than Greeks had hoplites or men “armed like Greeks.” Trying to decide whether the hoplites on the Amathus bowl are Greeks, Carians, or Phoenicians is fruitless.
On the other hand, hoplite reenactment began to grow more organized and scientific, and the spread of high-speed Internet made it easier to share videos. Since about 2013, it has become more common to try out theories about moving troops, pushing with shields, or fighting in lines. These trials cannot replace traditional scholarship: nobody dies in them and they are not always carried out or written up with academic strictness. However, we can now say that it is indeed possible for whole lines of men with shields to push on each other without suffocating because we tried it; just like we can refute the myth of the heavily burdened hoplite because we looked at ancient artifacts and they were small and light. Its easier to agree on the weight of helmet than on how to interpret the Iliad. Since about 2013, new empirical evidence has started to flow into debates about early Greek warfare, and archaeologists and specialists in Italy or Anatolia have published lively work which goes farther than Krentz or van Wees dared to. The debate since 2013 has not been stalled just because a few people still hold to the old California School or because nobody can agree about just what happened when two lines of spearmen came together.
Some of these theses might be controversial, especially the fourth. Its unfortunate that nobody in Josho Browers’ circle ended up in a stable research job, but not surprising at a time when institutions that study the ancient world are being demolished. While I am not shy about criticizing approaches to the ancient world which I disagree with, we all have a common interest in keeping people teaching and studying antiquity. While it can feel tedious to keep writing about Greek hoplites, its also exciting that people without academic training are interested in what we have to say.
Good scholarship takes time! Help keep me blogging at least once a month by supporting this site.
Further Reading
Sean Manning, “War and Soldiers in the Achaemenid Empire: Some Historiographical and Methodological Considerations.” In Kai Ruffing, Kerstin Droß-Krüpe, Sebastian Fink, and Robert Rollinger (eds.), Societies at War: Proceedings of the 10th Symposium of the Melammu Project held in Kassel September 26-28 2016 and Proceedings of the 8th Symposium of the Melammu Project held in Kiel November 11-15 2014 (Verlag der österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften: Vienna, 2020) pp. 495-515 (PDF copy here)
Edit 2025-11-16: added image, linked review of Bardunias’ book, added one sentence about how doubting massed pushing does not imply doubting other aspects of the California school/English orthodoxy
We did Mikey and Teddy from @jl8comic by Yale Stewart - if you haven’t read it, do it! We guarantee you, you will fall in love with it like we did 🥹
Also on that matter - without this amazing webcomic we would have never been able to do these cute versions of Booster and Beetle-
So please support the series and ensure it’s future! 🫶🙏
Get prints, consider being a patreon or support it in any other way you can ♡
Aaand now the pics :D
(Also…I noticed too late that we got a wig that would have been a better match for JL8 Teddy instead the here used adult!Ted wig XD next time I guess haha)
I don’t generally repost to the JL8 Tumblr because I try to keep it as close to a “webcomic website” as possible so you can just read through the comic uninterrupted but I had to share this for at least a little while. This is absolutely amazing and nearly brought tears to my eyes. I absolutely love it.
Yuletide gift ideas for Sword History maniacs, Pt. 1
Good news.
Bad news.
Bad news first: The Freirean Central Committee for Cultural Appropriation and Redistribution, formerly known as Netflix, thus far has no plans to showcase HEUSSLER. Remaining untold: The story of a modest Massai who began his post-pastoral life as a humble printer of liberation theology , overcame lactose intolerance, met Schöffer, then Fabris, then began a military career that saw him rise through the ranks of various colonial potentates in Germany and Denmark during the Thirty Years War, before renouncing the patriarchy and founding an environmental advocacy for organic Prince Valiant haircuts in Sweden. And, of course, “became a fencing master”.
The good news: I can point you at a great, albeit not brand-spanking-new book on Sebastian Heussler—a modest but entertainingly irresponsible Franconian who started out as a humble printer of theological treatises at Nürnberg, met Schöffer, then Fabris, unceremoniously abandoned wife and kids to enter into a military career that saw him rise through the ranks of various potentates in Germany and Denmark during the Thirty Years War—and who, in his old age, ran away with a 29-year-old woman aus gutem Hause to settle in Sweden.
Long faces all around: Heussler was just another Old White Male after all...
Despite the sheer girth of their respective books, Heussler and Schöffer have been marginal figures in the historiography of German fencing, for a number of reasons: First and foremost, our friend Joachim Hynitzsch, the Rosetta Stone of the Fabris School of Fencing in Germany, wrote off Schöffer as merely having been Fabris’ mantenitore, not his Scholar. And Heussler merely was Schöffer’s Vorfechter, same as a mantenitore. As such they, says Hynitzsch, never were taught the theoretic underpinnings of the method, resulting in two helter-skelter compilations of hundreds of Stücke, mixed in with and diluted by non-Fabris material.
Adjusting for the “Significance of the Passage of Time” between Hynitzsch’s (1677) and Heussler’s book (1616)—61 years!, and Hynitzsch and Schöffer’s book (1620)—57 years, the second-hand transmittal of the information via Velde, and some additional information I have come recently across, I am now tempted to weigh both Vorfechter more heavily than is usually done.
Which isn’t all that ambitious, considering more recent mainstream sages have mostly been looking at the pretty pictures, “the kicking, punching and stabbing antics of the thugs in Heussler” and Schöffer’s “badly executed plates”.
In our paper on Fabris, we’ve tried to flesh out both German masters’ rather meager biographies. We drew reasonable inferences from the extant sources to place Schöffer in Denmark with Fabris between 1602 and 1605, and Heussler with Schöffer (probably at Marburg) around 1609—narrowing the window of time for Heussler’s direct instruction by Fabris to 1609-1610 (perhaps in Paris) or before 1615 in Padua.
(More material has surfaced even in the four short weeks since we posted: There’s more to come on SHotS la semaine prochaine (make that Spring ’26) dans cette salle!)
I was greatly assisted in my research by the labors of Kevin Maurer, who has done yeoman’s work on Heussler’s background in his book, appropriately named Sebastian Heussler’s New Artful Fencing Book (2019). Maurer has gone through the available sources with a fine-tooth comb and put together a concise and detailed history of Heussler, his family, his military career, and of course his book on the Fencing with the single rapier.
I highly recommend it, both for the biographical and historical information (tying in Heussler with some of the greatest rulers in Northern Europe at the time) and for his translation of the practical instruction.
Click on the image of the book to order it!
VVVV
My unqualified recommendation should really be book-ended by one for a similar work on Schöffer:
Klein, Dorothee: Fecht-Lektionen: nach Hans Wilhelm Schöffer. Melsungen: Neumann-Neudamm, 2017.
Unfortunately, although excellent, the book is not easily obtainable any more. The one copy I was able to purchase will have to await in-person pick-up from my brother’s house in Berlin, as the Deutsche Post has discontinued sending packages to the United States—even books which never have been and currently are not subject to import tariffs. Shipment via DHL exceeds the reasonable purchase price by a factor of 3 or more. And some time you just have to put your foot down…
Expanding your Martial Arts Business Purchase market share or grow organically Is it time to grow the Business I once wrote a MA Success Magazine article about on the probable consolidation of the Martial Arts industry, which I wrote before the full onset of the COVID pandemic. We had seen [Read More]
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