ASCII by Jason Scott

Jason Scott's Weblog

The Decade Cometh —

In October of 2008, I will celebrate ten years of running textfiles.com.

I am actually at a loss of how to exactly mark that occasion. A party? A little badge-y do-dad on the website? Finally get the torrent going? A web redesign? A new hat?

I’m sure no matter what I’ll have a long, drawn-out essay on the experience of ten years of textfiles, but I can quickly touch on a few things right now.

Obviously, I had no long-term plans for this site other than getting my old BBS collection together. I wanted to do my part to get stuff up “there”, and I can say with all honesty that I did a good job of it; I very rarely find stuff coming in that isn’t on the site in some fashion.

Even somewhat recently, I had a fellow say hi to me at a party, who had found out I ran textfiles.com. Now in college, he’d learned about textfiles.com when he was 13, and had spent all his teenage years browsing it, picking up ideas, moving forward with research, and generally inspiring him towards his degree with computers. That is as great as it gets.

If I do do a party, I need some months to plan for it. I’ll have to think what’ll do best. The official “birthday” is October 8, 1998. It’s been quite a trip.


Napster: Did You Forget? —

I figured I’d take a moment for this little reminder.

Napster was great. My friend Deth Veggie of Cult of the Dead cow pinged me in an e-mail and told me I had to download this Napster thing and try it out. This was 1999, when it wasn’t all that known. I thought it was pretty darn neat. I liked how it felt like a FTP server, but also had a chat aspect, and people were spreading stuff around, allowing them to either talk with others while downloading, or just sit there and pull down MP3s. The downloads were single threaded, but I certainly didn’t notice at the time; I thought it was great you could browse through others’ collections, like sifting through their records or cassettes while at a party, but you’d get to take everything home. I really did think it was something special.

There’s a book out there, All the Rave, that purports to cover a lot of the Napster story, from Shawn Fanning’s birth through to the final breakup and sale of the Napster company. I read it and feel it’s probably mostly accurate. It certainly feels right, and has a good amount of sources. If someone has a conflicting recounting of tales, I’d like to hear it.

The central thesis, however, is this: the Napster company, once it was incorporated and flying around in earnest, was designed to be a buyout target for any record or media company suitor, selling over the technology and “flipping” the company as quickly and as profitably as possible (and this is important), while providing copyrighted content for free. Beyond that, when the timing started to shift, the deal fell apart, but barely so; record companies really were going to reward the Napster executives with substantial amounts of cash in return for having facilitated the duplication of hundreds of thousands of music tracks.

Peer to Peer, itself, is rather fascinating and I should go into some depth about its ramifications and meanings and so on in the future. I want, however, to focus on one little point.

Without a doubt, without a doubt, Napster was working hard to make money off the backs of recording artists. Tell yourself it was great tech (and it was) and it introduced people to genres of music they hadn’t heard before (and it did) and that it was an amazing moment in time when all of us were combined into a throbbing god-head of sonic sharing and intimacy (and we were). Let yourself be told, as we’ve been told in the last 9 years, about how evil the music industry is (and it is) and how poorly it treats many artists under its purview over the decades (and it has). No questioning here, no rebuttal to these plain and simple facts.

But when the members of Metallica, unaware of the full technology and forces at work, used to doing things its own way, stood up and spoke out against this wholesale smash and grab, when they flailed about trying to find support for what they were saying about having their music being used to forward a business plan without any compensation going to them, they were pilloried. Yes, I’m fucking defending Metallica.

Metallica were one of the rare pop-culture bands who owned their own master tapes (Frank Zappa did as well, after a lengthy legal battle or two). This was a hard-won situation for them, with a lot of fighting behind the scenes, a lot of threats, and decades of nasty attacks from an industry ostensibly designed to support artists like them. They were a mighty bitter group, used to standing up for themselves, when nobody else would. They’d earned this money for their families, and expected to reap the rewards for a long time.

Suddenly, Napster arrives, and all these songs they’d fought dearly to have the right to sell were flying out the door, while a company leveraged their music to build up their own sale value.

I’d be pissed; wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you wonder what you could do? And what if every person you talk to has almost no clue about how to legally deal with this situation, what it means, who’s really behind it? How do you even seek recompense and halt this action, when there’s simply no precedent in the court to even describe what’s going on?

I’ve grown tired, in my old age, of the cry of the person who thinks that copying something, by its very act, benefits the copied and the copier. Sometimes this is the case. Sometimes it is not the case. It is not a by-default awesome act that you duped something that is available for sale and did not pay anyone. The only way that comes to mind that it’s by default awesome is if, generally, you have embraced your inner pirate. Bootleg, who was one of my more energetic interviewees is known for embracing his inner pirate way back when; I have corroborating stories that when he hosted Apple II copy parties at his house in the early 1980s, he’d supply lots of beer and dress up as a pirate, fake parrot and eye patch and all. That’s embracing your inner pirate. Bootleg never sat around talking about functioning as some sort of honeybee cross-polinating ideas for the tangential benefit of content creators.

Yet I still run into this, this idea that the very act of not paying for something is itself heroic, while simultaneously acknowledging that some level of copyright/patent law is valid. Choose one, blackbeard. Stop trying to play both sides and act like you’re a statesman enmeshed in the delicate negotiations of the weight of the future. Download your free shit and go.

At the time, Metallica had no pillowy mounds of mashed-up content jiggery to convince them that Napster hoisting off copies of their stuff was a good thing. It wasn’t a good thing. So they threatened, and got on the air and gave interviews, and tried to raise awareness of all this going on. They were totally in the dark, truly musicians trying to function in the legal realm, and like many bands, they had precious little experience in such ephemeral spheres. We are still coming to terms with this issue, and they were hip-deep in it, feeling their livelihoods were at stake.

To this day, the fact that they spoke up, said this was wrong, and lashed about trying to find some way to stop this, is held up as some sort of victory on the part of downloaders. Metallica is, to this day, criticized and satirized for standing up for what they believed in, and looking back, I just can’t see where they had many options. Told they’d have to list which users were using Napster illegally, they did just that, delivering reams of names of people sharing the song. Hamstrung in court, proving racketeering charges (and make no mistake, Napster well and truly was a racketeering organization) and made out to be some sort of evil presence. What a terrible nightmare for them; what a shame.

This is just 9 years ago; what will people say happened back then in another 11?


CPU Not Required: Making Demos with FPGAs —


Jeri Ellsworth is one of those people who shouldn’t exist. She has an amazing life story, dropping out of high school because of the success of her racecar fabrication business, which was followed by a successful computer store business, and then she made the logical jump: learn chip fabrication and low-level assembly coding. From this has come a number of famous toys and electronic items, including the Commodore in a Joystick, where she implemented an entire Commodore 64 into a tiny chipset for the goal of being able to play a few games on a TV. From this, by the way, an entire community of people have turned it into the most incredible things. All this aside, she’s a bright and humorous person, a great conversationalist, and is currently working on opening a pinball arcade in Oregon.

We’d met at a couple conferences (she stopped by DEFCON a few times, I stopped by a few vintage computing events), and we talked about her maybe coming out for a Blockparty. When it got to be time to find speakers for Blockparty 2008, I proposed it to her and she was all for it.

Jeri’s talk, which is now available here, is really something else. A few speakers, including Jeri, asked me how technical or deep they should get into in their talks and how much of the basics they thought should be covered. My opinion was that they should focus on what they’ve personally learned that’s new, and let people do the research to get the basics. And boy did Jeri go deep! I remember swimming along in the depths of the subject she was covering, and being nearly lost. This was, to me, a good thing. It’s not that hard to find information on FPGAs out there, but once you get that knowledge, you get the advantage of Jeri’s opinion on them, having spent years developing using them, and there’s so much in this talk worth catching. She also gives a preview of the no-cpu demo machine she was working on that ultimately let her and The Fat Man win the Wild Competition at Blockparty. What a treat!

Keep a second window to look up the tough stuff, and enjoy the swim.


Sorry, Fired. —

There was a new version of this weblog. It is gone now. I am back at my old one.

I tried to upgrade. It was painful, obtuse, silly, required me to spend 3 hours writing rewrite rules, and then presented me with dogshit. I have lost a day of productivity, and I am seething at this.

Weblogs are simple things. Please don’t tell me they aren’t. Applications, engorged with obtuse feature sets for irrelevant standards conjured by latte-jittered man-children are not weblogs. Applications get to be complicated and huge and silly, and when composed of terrifying blobs of PHP and Perl and Rails and whatever other common nouns/abbrevations are, they can be as silly as they want. But I don’t want them.

I want what I download and install to look like my weblog currently looks. I take advantage of a tiny, tiny set of features and I am a happy person. I concentrate, after all, on getting projects done and doing my writing. I’m still spry enough to compose the odd script or two to do something repetitive, like a gallery of images or some other nib-nab. I don’t need to be wrapped in an entirely new made-up markup language to get my job done.

Sorry, I shouldn’t have to negotiate stacks of embedded templates in form after form, rooting around as if some sort of rodent, with the hoping and faith-based leaps of wishing that, at the end, I’d end up with an actual black page with green text on it. That’s insane. I deny it and reject it.

No, I do not want “assistance” and “help”, pulling in favors for the ultimate goal of making software that obviously does not do what I want it to do, do what I want it to do. That just leads to the inevitable conclusion by others that I was somehow able to do it on my own. And it would be so not true.

Anil, you’re a great guy. Your product blows. Keep smiling.


Blockparty: 4k Music —


At the first Blockparty, BarZoule was scheduled to come and speak with his cohorts in Northern Dragons about 4k demos. He was scheduled for a time and then had to pull out at the last moment; another speaker filled his place. This year, BarZoule (who also won the Demo competition for 2008) offered to make up for this with an impromptu talk to fill a space left by a canceling speaker. This talk was recorded and is available on archive.org.

It’s entitled “4k Audio: Dos, Don’ts and Pitfalls” and probably the most entertaining part for me is the inevitable artistic speaking BaZ employs and he works his way around English. Hailing from Quebec, BaZ goes in some very strange linguistic by-paths, but the content is still pretty amazing and very understandable.

The talk is even more impressive when you find out that BaZ slammed together his powerpoint presentation on a teammate’s machine while listening to another talk. Everything is borrowed and he’s doing this all for the first time in front of a crowd. Quite a show when you keep that in mind.

And what is the talk actually about? Well, BaZ is one of the wizards of the darkest of arts, the 4k demo, that is, a graphics-and-sound demo program that is 4096 bytes in total. 4096 bytes! To have anything coherent come out of such a small program, and have it play music or show graphics, requires a surgeon’s steady hand and an artist’s eye and ear. BaZ’s talk walks you through the music side of things to learn some of his magic tricks. Very informative.

More of the Blockparty talks coming up.


Suicidal —

I’m like everyone else; put enough crushing torrents of sorrowful actions and forces onto me, and my mind muses that perhaps there’s an easier way out of it all.

Granted, it’s obviously not been successful and I have no intentions of it being successful, but it does happen, even to me. I figured I’d mention this because sometimes people see me online, or in my presentations, or with my other projects, and they think that surely I have rage days but not suicidal days. Well I do. Far from each other, rare indeed, but there you go.

Many things ensure my continued existence, ranging from the trite to the fundamental.

For example, I’m very busy. Lots to do, lots to get done, a lot of people have given me stuff to work with and I’m not going to leave a big pile of their stuff in my office with a sign saying “Gone Fishin'”. I said I’d do it! I’m doing it!

Similarly, I have projects like my documentaries that I should really get cracking on. Leaving those half-shot means that, very likely, it’ll end up being Uwe Boll or Kevin Smith editing them and then where will we be?

Also, I’m quite aware of what a tragic thing it would be and it would cause a major disruption in schedules.

I can keep taking this tack forever, until I get to the more heartfelt stuff, but I very rarely need to. When even trite reasons seem pretty compelling, then it’s somewhat obvious I’m experiencing some sort of Despair Illusion, not unlike an Optical Illusion, where my natural despair seems to be deceptively infinite, a pool of horror and self-doubt that extends beyond forever. That’s terrifying and unsurmountable. But like I said, it’s always ended up being an illusion.

One good night’s sleep, one well-done song, one phone call or one hour-long spate of mouse-clicking later, and the insurmountable is merely Stupidly Large. A few more calls, songs or mouse clicking, and it’s just Needlessly Tragic. In a week, I forget what was so infinite. In a year, I remember that thing that got the ball rolling, and I feel a little sad.

I mention all this because if you’re some kid without the experiences I’ve had, and you’re that lost and sad and alone, you should probably be aware it happens to a lot of people, and it gets better. There’s stuff to do, so wail out the hardest of your despair and then give me a call. I need someone to help me with my projects, and a near-suicidal army of once-infinitely-sad fans would be just the trick.

See you tomorrow. For a long time to come.


A Demo Event of Serious Consequence —

Blockparty 2008 went so well, I’m going to spend an awful lot of time talking about it. I thought we couldn’t easily top last year on so many fronts and yet we did. There is a lot of media out there and more coming, so let me quickly dump some links on you to get an idea of what we’re talking about, and I will then go into some detail of aspects of this wild success over the next few entries.

Here’s an album of photos I took of Notacon and Blockparty. It goes from just before the Friday events through to the last bit of awards show on Sunday. Many were taken by me and some by RaD Man.

I knew Trixter would deliver an amazing talk about preserving old demos. His presentation, “Self-Preservation Mode”, is available on archive.org. Well worth the watch.

Trixter’s project I’ve been raving about for months, MONOTONE, had a wonderful debut for the audience. Be sure to check out the second song!

The Fat Man’s full talk will be out there soon, but until then we have the introduction from his talk out there.

My talk on the art and theory of editing in life and in media, Now and Then, Here and There, is also uploaded to archive.org. I expect most of the Blockparty talks will get this treatment.

A demoparty’s about the releases, of course, so the results list will be of interest to many, although I still have to build in the links to the results subdirectory. Feel free to root around, of course.

The demos are now part of the Pouet site, which means it’s now subjected to the same knockaround and playful criticism anything else gets on there. It’s been fun to watch the reactions.

We recorded hours of footage, so there’s lots of media to get out there. In the meantime, I was impressed with this montage put together by an attendee.

I was blown away by this event. Look forward to more verbiage than you would ever want.


Twilight of the Area Code Master —

We know (or at least I hope we do) that skills once considered vital will eventually fall out of favor. Stuff that you could do well, maybe better than anyone you knew, eventually becomes something that has no opportunity for any use. Heartbreaking, I know. What’s worse is when it’s less a case of you not having the skill anymore because you’re too old, but because the world has shifted such that this skill has no relevance. Then you feel really old.

When one had a modem, you ended up calling a lot of places to get messages. You’d type in or dial some phone numbers, and then go to a BBS in that area. If you were paying for these long data-carrying calls, you’d probably not call much out of your area code. But if you were grabbing phone calls for free, like I was, then you’d be calling all over the country. And I did, with call counts in the thousands over the years.

So way back in my teens, I could tell you where an area code was. All of them. Tell me 404 and I’ll say Georgia, say 914 and that’s New York, 312 is Chicago, 206 is Washington. I’d see a phone number and I’d know where it was. If it was in my home area code, I’d see the first six numbers and know what town it was in.

The knowledge was forced into my head, like someone who walks the same path every day might memorize all the rocks along the side of the path or know the names on every mailbox. I called so many places, in so many states, that I just kind of knew them all by heart.

It helped a lot that there weren’t as many then. Area codes still had to conform to a rule that the first number was between 2 and 9, the second a 0 or 1, and the third 1-9. 305 (Florida) was obviously an area code. 230 was a typo. (Probably 203, Connecticut). You latched onto the pattern and there we went.

Area code splits have been around for a long time, with the first one happening a year after the creation of area codes in 1947. Before area codes, of course, you needed people; you’d call up and get an operator and they’d connect your call. Once machines got into the end-to-end, social misfits need never speak with a person; which was good if you were stealing the phone call. But the real area code splits of initial interest had all settled down by the 1980s and were somewhat rare. And each one begat another in the same realm: [2-9][01][1-9] as they say in regular expressions.

I should hasten for the benefit of phone nerds that there were, of course, area codes like 710 and 310, but they weren’t for the places one would call with BBSes. And yes, there was 800 and 900 and even my beloved 700, but again, these weren’t for locations; they were crazy mysterious places far outside the realm of reason. So this talent was able to keep up through the 1980s with no issue.

Once caller ID became more frequent, I could glance at it and see who was calling me. I’d see a 818 and know it was California or 503 and know it was Oregon and make choices based on that. This talent was kind of innate, there, just something I had.

But then things got weird.

510 in 1991 ruined things. A California area code, it broke the magic formula. Luckily, these were few and far between, like 410 when it popped up in Maryland a couple years later. I adjusted. But by this time I was in my 20s and I was making a lot less phone calls than I had in the BBS era. I was on the Internet now.

In 1995, 334 broke it for good. An area code for Alabama, the magic formula was gone. It scanned as an exchange for me, as it did for a lot of switching equipment. It might be hard to imagine now for the younger set, but there was a time when this actually cut off parts of the country. Older switching systems (especially ones inside schools or businesses) couldn’t call these numbers. It broke them utterly. Phone switches were thrown out or finally upgraded by the truckload. Now that there were tons of crappy telecommunications vendors, upgrades to these systems were fast and furious. And my skills became less and less useful, although the older businesses, ones that had had numbers for many years, still made sense to me and when someone called from 505, I knew it was New Mexico.

Recently, though, two things have happened.

First of all, numbers are portable. I have switched my phone with three providers and kept the numbers. Many others have too. You can be calling a number that the person answering won’t even be in the same state as where the number “should” be. They’ve jumped around and ended up somewhere other than the natural resting place of the number, and that’s that.

And the final nail has been the addition of voice over IP. When you use this, your phone is hooked to your computer. For many people, they have an inward number, but when you call, it uses the nearest geographic “place” to where you’re calling. So, to the person getting the call, your number is totally different from where you are. This is happening more and more. What’s interesting is how all these companies with clever number-scanners that allow them to make decisions based on the callers location are now broken. I’ve used VOIP phones and been hailed from Syracuse, or given California directions, or so on. The times have truly passed me by.

Once I could stand there and recite these numbers and their locations with the greatest pride. They were my geography teacher and my sage-like awareness of the lands around me. But those times are gone.

I wonder what other skills I’ve lost, time having passed them so completely I’ve forgotten about them. I’ll alert you if I remember.


FORUM REFEREE! —

For reasons that nobody cares about, I was sent two companion threads, one closed and the other basically so, regarding the release of an Atari 2600 cartridge. This is interesting in itself to some people, but in fact I’m more fascinated by the body of it and where things went wrong. And things did go wrong! A discussion announcing the availability of a new rendition of a 20+ year old Atari 2600 program quickly turned into a free-for-all and was closed. Then, a week and change later, a reference to this thread was made in another forum and even more vitrol occurred.

I am an objective observer, and a student of the discussion thread and its myriad implementations. Let’s consider then, what the hell happened.

Here’s thread #1:

http://www.atariage.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=123594

My summary of the subject matter is this: Rob Fulop, an established and historical figure in Atari history, announces that he is looking for input for the price of a limited edition Atari 2600 cartridge he has made of a game he worked on in the 1980s called “Actionauts”. Here’s that message:

I'm about to release a new 2600 cart - Actionauts. I have no idea how much such a
thing is 'worth' in the Atari 2600 collector's marketplace. What I know are the
following two facts.
 
1) I've released a game into this community before. The name of the game was
Cubicolor,  and I released it almost 20 years ago. At the time, I had no idea what
to charge for the game, so I picked $50 pretty much out of the blue sky. The
fifty available copies sold out pretty fast. Today the sale price for one of these
games hovers around $1,000. OK, personally I think this is sort of a high price
for a game unworthy of release at the time it was made, but who am I to know
how these things work. For whatever reason, the 2600 collector community
has decided a Cubicolor is worth $1,000. Regardless, I think it's a fair statement
that I certainly didn't get the better end of THAT particular transaction!
 
Suffice it to say the $50 is probably below the price of what an Actionauts cart is 'worth'.
 
2) I do know what the COST is for Actionauts to exist. The game took about
3.5 months of my time to make in the first place. Then it took about 1.5 month
of time to make it available ... figuring how much time it took to make 300 copies,
design boxes and labels, figure out how to take and fulfill orders, etc. And then
it cost about $5,000 in hard cash to build the 300 carts, print the boxes and labels,
etc. So the "cost" of Actionauts is $5,000 + five months of my time. Such is the
real cost of making the game available to this marketplace.
 
Since nobody knows the real "value" of the game, all I can go by is the cost
of making the game. Which comes down to what is a fair "wage" for me to
earn here? How much is five months of my time worth? I'd like this community
to help answer this question, before I put a price tag on the game.
Once the community has designated what they think a reasonable "wage" is
for somebody like myself .. and I concur ... I will use the following formula to
establish the price for the game. (5 * (monthly wage) + 5000) / 300. In the
interests of this community, I think it would be wrong to attach any sort of
profit to this price. Thus I'm asking people to be fair and reasonable in the
poll questions, and not answer the questions from a purely self interest.
 
Thanks

The Numbers

The thread begins on Monday, March 31, 2008, at 4:22 PM. It is closed on Wednesday, April 2, 2008 at 1:01 PM, for a total lifespan of roughly 45 hours. It contains 198 posts, or an average of about 5 posts an hour. Of these, 40 of them are by the thread originator and main subject, Rob Fulop. Of the 62 participants, 30 post just one message.

Already, there’s an obvious imbalance or unique aspect here: the conversation is Rob Fulop (that big blue slice) posting an amount equivalent to at least 30+ other participants. Taken another way, he posts messages frequently and in response to others, all the way through to the end of the 45 hour period. Being that this post is about soliciting questions, the warning sign is that Fulop does not in fact merely post a question (and related poll); he immediately and consistently engages the posters in debate and discussion.

The problem with a “what do you think about this”, or the hardest portion, is listening to what people say and then waiting until it’s all died down to give a summary thanks and move on. Fulop instead begins a conversation and ultimately a quasi-interview/roundtable masquerading as a poll.

A web-based forum (in this case, AtariAge) is no longer imbued with the limitations of bulletin board systems; multiple simultaneous posters are a breeze, images can be embedded into discussions, and the software allows for instantaneous restructuring of the postings to satisfy a linear or threaded regard. While in many ways this is a positive set of innovations, it also brings along with it potential for flamewars and flare-ups to immediately consume the parties involved. There is no waiting period. There is an abundance of meta-discussion due to the non-scarce resource of access. There is a lower barrier to entry with commercial and societal interests in lowering the barrier even further. This is the modern environment and it’s the way it is.

So saying that there were an average of 4.4 posts an hour is not all that helpful, in fact; you have no idea of the distribution of the messages. Since people can be writing multiple additions simultaneously, the forum can actually “breathe” in a manner not unlike a bellows or chamber in an engine; with posts queuing up in great numbers and blasting across the message base in waves. With this in consideration, here is a different observation of the posting metric: the number of posts per hour across the 45 hour period:

The “breathing” of the forum discussions becomes more clear with this view. We see the usual flurry of initial response and activity of a healthy thread, which then reverberates in a more quiet fashion for a while before it all flares up again, followed by the same reverberation, and then a small up-ramp at the end that is cut off by the thread closure.

Not surprisingly, that second flare-up is caused by a post by Fulop. So let’s address the content.

The Content

As mentioned above, this thread is ostensibly about the future release of an Atari 2600 cartridge and the suggested price points by the “community”. It is a question posed by the cartridge’s creator, a man of strong pedigree and historical credit named Rob Fulop. Once an Atari engineer, he is a co-founder of Imagic, a third-party maker of Atari 2600 cartridges, which ultimately shut down. He has his name in a good amount of productions throughout the years. He is, in other words, the Real Deal.

In his poll, he asks two questions: Should the author of a new 2600 release be paid for their time spent? and What is a reasonable monthly salary for a 2600 designer to earn? Since the title of the thread is “Actionauts price tag?”, we run into another problem: the poll is not related to the question. The question should have been “how much would you pay for the following item” followed by “what is important to you in buying a package like this”. These are the questions one would reasonably expect.

Within the first fifteen minutes of the thread, a user named Mirage1972 answers the poll (which is anonymous) and then writes this message:

I voted $2000/month, but I wanted to say that that's
not what I really think the programmer's time is
"worth". It's  "worth" a lot more. It just has to be balanced
with what people can and will pay.  Also factor in that anyone
choosing to program and release a 2600 game in the
21st century should be doing it primarily because they
"want" to, or, in other words, for intangible benefits.
 
I don't think it's possible for you to be paid as much
as you (or any other 2600 programmer)
should get, or as much as I would "like" to pay you.
 
Now that I think of it, $2000/month with your calculation
works out to $50/cart (with box/manual).  That should be
the low end of what you charge, probably. I'd say $50-$65
would be fair, and  you'd easily sell out at that price.
Realistically, you'd probably sell out at $100 each, some
people  just wouldn't be able to buy them. But, that's the
breaks I guess.

Mirage’s response is informative, helpful, complimentary, and even does some basic research to accompany his opinion.

Almost immediately, Fulop responds:

You do realize, that you are suggesting that a 2600 programmer,
one with reasonable credentials, should expect this community to
pay them no more for their time then they could earn as an
assistant manager at Jack in the Box, right? Maybe you are
right, and such is how this community truly values people like
myself ... I guess we will see based on the result of the poll!

FOUL! Here we see the roots of the problem: Fulop takes Mirage’s statement and throws it back into his face, implying not only that Mirage has degraded his skills and dismissed his efforts, but that he considers his time equivalent to a fast food restaurant’s “assistant” manager. Note how this is all crafted; the $2k/month figure was one of the original (poorly chosen) poll questions; Mirage simply selected it. It turns out that Rob conisders some of the potential poll questions wrong. This is not how polls work; you poll people to get answers. That people might answer incorrectly with regards to objective knowledge is not the issue; with a poll, you realize there’s a problem (too many US citizens can’t find Australia on a map) and you then use this information to create a counter-campaign. (More geography lessons; make Australian tourism commercials include graphical representation of Australia’s location on a globe, etc.). If the poll-taker immediately turns around in the same public forum, and implies that he is personally insulted by the answer, then the poll is no longer relevant and certainly not objective. Additionally, he takes the answer from a single responder on a single thread on a single site and immediately indicates that “[this] is how this community truly values people like myself”. Now we have a double-edged sword: the “community” has been accused of sub-par character quality, and the poster has indicated he considers himself very important/worthy, a problematic non-humble position not sure to win favor.

Fulop quickly falls in love with the Jack in the Box slur; he uses it multiple times in his subsequent postings:

  • What I’m getting out of this conversation is “about the same as our society values an assistant manager at Jack In The Box” .. which puts it into perspective nicely.
  • These guys basically are saying I should earn less doing this then i would earn as assistant manager at Jack in the Box .. my view .. these guys aren’t going to be interested at any price .. and even then .. they will weep that the game isn’t as good as Pitfall. So the low votes don’t count especially given the discussion surrounding their justifications.

The insults don’t stop there. Fulop quickly takes his own thread downhill as fast as his fingers can conjure the words.

  • To be told by people in this community that the think my time is worth $2k per month .. is sort of weird, actually. I mean, in the same breath, the person who says this can’t seriously tell me how much of a “fan” they are of my work, right?
  • I certainly understand that this market is small, and unable to compensate people like myself for the effort involved. Thus there are very few new releases. This makes sense. But it’s really weird to me that you use the term ‘profit greatly’ when talking about somebody asking $4k a month for their time. How much do you charge for yours?

In these cases, landmines are being laid, landmines ensuring someone will come along and trip on them.

The second-flareup is interesting; it concerns what represents a living wage.

Specifically, Fulop takes umbrage with the “$2k/month” atari developer wage, the idea that he should only make $24k a year. In fact, it’s easy to interpret this poll question many ways; what’s a good wage to make doing atari carts in your spare time? What’s a good wage to make with atari cartridges after you’ve done all the work and am collecting new items? But it turns out the secret answer was that Fulop was asking how much poll responders thought any Atari 2600 Developer should make in toto in a given year while working full-time in that sole capacity. When he then indicates that $4k/month would barely be a living wage (this is $52k a year), then cultural issues come into play.

For some locations, $52k is a princely sum, while in others it can’t support an apartment, much less food and transportation. Within Fulop’s position (and he is a man well along in years, having been involved in this industry well beyond a quarter century), it is entirely possible that $52k can’t possibly support a healthy lifestyle and living wage; but this was not asked in the poll and is not the point given in the poll. What starts as a simple question about the price of a cartridge becomes a man’s last stand of sanity against an onslaught of cartridge collecting zombies, firing randomly into the sea of grabbing hands to protect his livelihood.

Much of the thread, then, is meta; people defending Rob Fulop’s talents (which are not in question), people discussing a living wage and what that means, people discussing where everything went so wrong in the thread, and people defending other people’s positions as various sides are taken. A parallel conversation occurs as to the definitions of “gamer” and “collector”; Fulop sees them as distinct and disparate groups, while others see more of a grey area or spectrum. This discussion muddies at the core level from that point on, until Fulop throws up his hands and requests the thread end; he’s gotten what he ‘came for’, although it is not entirely clear how he could have possibly achieved this.

Ten days later, on another web forum, a new thread begins, starting with the pricing of the cartridge and disagreement on the price. This brings the players back into the same fight again, the one that should have never happened in the first place, based on a poll question that was poorly asked and poorly discussed afterwards, and a range of insults and finger-pointing that naturally come from this discordant, foolish melee.

Conclusion

Forum Referee rules that Rob Fulop is a very talented man who is also a dope. Seeking assistance in pricing a product does not give you slack to insult anyone who takes the time to give their answers. Twisting around words and then throwing them back at faces, indicating insult where there is none, and giving your poll answerers a total of 30 minutes before you jump in and start swinging indicates what the kids call a “total n00b”. Unsportsmanlike Conduct!

Stay off the forums and do your good work when time and money permit.


Not Free Enough —

A word of warning. This is about content license issues. These entries are always classic, in the way that the Hindenburg Disaster was “classic”. Go ahead at own risk.

An interesting situation occurred recently in my mail. I had a customer buy my BBS Documentary, and then write a nice fan mail letter, followed by, “If your next documentary is freely licensed, then please put me on the notification list”.

He included a link. This link, in fact. This was, in other words, his definition of “Free”. It’s very convenient we can do this now, just point somewhere and go “this is what I mean”.

After spending a little while at that site, I sadly had to decide not to put his name on the notification list.

GET LAMP is not going to be Creative Commons Attribution-Sharealike. It’ll be Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0. The reason’s pretty simple: I have a number of musicians involved who do not wish the music to be easily placeable on commercially sold compilations. I want to use their music. So I am distributing this work under this license.

Personally, I saw no issue with this, and really still don’t. My stuff, my choice. I have people I respect who are being kind enough to provide all the material they are, and they are letting me release it under this license, and we’ll all by a happy little can of Clamato juice. Under the license it’s being released under, you can throw out huge swaths of the movie, add your own commentary and distribute it, dupe copies or even torrent it, and generally have your way about it. You just can’t sell it or profit by it.

I had forgotten, of course, how divided certain aspects of the license community are about these things. Maybe that was a good thing. I have enough trouble trying to explain to people who don’t care about this that yes, they’re allowed to show my movie to their classes without paying, and yes, they can have showings of it and not pay me, and yes, they can take excerpts of it and put it online all remixed up. I appreciate being asked but they don’t really need to. I understand fully what I did when I went Creative Commons, so the repercussions don’t shock me. (I’m not this lucky in all aspects of my life, but with this, I pretty much knew cold what I am saying when I use these licenses).

But man, what fun little internal battles. The website I was linked to contains a very specific article, directly geared to the general thesis, that thesis being: If you license with a NonCommercial Creative Commons License, you are a Fuck.

The whole site is a Wiki, albeit the kind I prefer, with logins required to mess around with them, and a way to link to a specific revision, as I did above. What’s not directly clear unless you look at it is the whole thing’s run by Erik Moller (sic; I can’t use his properly spelled last name because it breaks the livejournal rss feed to my weblog). You probably don’t know who Erik is. All well and good. If you’ve studied Wikipedia’s internal processes, then you know exactly who he is. He’s about as insider to the Wikipedia “cabal” as you can basically get; one of the all-time apologist characters for its failings and abuses. He recently got Konami-Coded into the higher echelons of the non-profit, and I think that’s about all I’ll discuss about Erik. All I’m saying here is he’s one of the proponents of a manner of thinking I don’t necessarily hop into the haystack with, spouting glee. Let’s get back to the writing instead of the man.

The writing is filled with a lot of that spectacular sleight of hand I’ve come to hate from groups whose general stated purposes sound really wonderful and then you flip over the rock and are horrified. It describes all the reasons you didn’t think your Subtle Plan all the way through before going with the NC version of the Creative Commons license, and you should drop the NC. Here’s one that’s particularly awesome:

“One final factor to keep in mind, especially for wide-spread small scale exploitation, is the enforceability of the license. For example, even a generous interpretation of Wikipedia’s GNU Free Documentation License requires that content users link back to Wikipedia and the article history, and point out that the document is freely licensed.1 As is evident from a brief look at Wikipedia’s own list of mirrors and forks by compliance, many content mirrors completely ignore the GFDL. Some even systematically remove all evidence that the content is from Wikipedia. Such behavior, while illegal, is difficult to punish, as mirrors reside in many different countries. Many have been quickly set up, without anyone in charge of operations. Even though Wikipedia is a large community with a reasonably well-funded parent organization, it is clear that it is hard to enforce even very basic licensing requirements on free content. Ask yourself whether you are truly willing and able to enforce violations of an -NC license. Otherwise, the only people you punish with the restriction are those who are careful to respect your wishes — people who are likely to be amenable to friendly cooperation anyway.”

Read it again, or feel free to hear my interpretation of what he says there: There’s no point in putting a non-commercial restriction on your work, because everyone’s going to ignore you anyway. Damn, that’s a pimp-slap for you, isn’t it. The reason you should license your stuff for the most accessible and widespread distribution is because you, content-boy, are going to get gang-banged against the hordes of users out there, and at least this way you get a free dinner. Sign. Me. Up.

The essay is chock full of some of these winner statements. One indicates that doing this only hurts the little guy. The little newspapers, the small websites, the mom-and-pops of the world who just want to get the biggest benefit of your hard work without opening them to legal liability. It’s about as logical as a drug user explaining why the reason he has to sell your toaster for more meth is to gear the two of you towards a better tomorrow, that is, one where he won’t have to harvest your organs.

But instead of filling your screen with a point-by-point breakdown of where I don’t jibe with Erik’s disagreement, I’d like to get to the interesting stronger issue here.

I don’t often compromise. I am an intractable asshole when it comes to certain things, aspects, and so on. Believe me, more than once I have screwed myself in a fireworks-and-brass-band fashion over a point. Other times I stand ground on stuff that likely means little to anyone who is not, generally, me. Some offhand examples: I refuse to watch Hogan’s Heroes. There’s a pizza place a couple blocks from my house that I won’t go to because I was once left waiting for 25 minutes for someone to take my order. I won’t buy Sony products at all, with the exception of my video editing software. This goes on for page after embarassing page. Been there. Haggled over that. Screamed and moved on.

But somehow it still burns my bacon when I see people informing me, or others like me, how we are doing the wrong thing, a disservice, by not making the stuff we generate distributable in some way. It trip-traps over the troll bridge into somewhere I don’t find very pleasant, or enjoyable. It says, basically, way down there. “Thanks. Gimmie.” It makes me feel like someone’s tugging my pant leg. I don’t like it at all.

And on top of it, we have my little fan, so happy with my first film, laying down his gauntlet of what he thinks a film must be and basically shutting himself out of my next one because it has a license restriction on it. A license restriction that, I’m sorry, I can’t see being a huge deal. Yes, unlike the last time, the schools in question would have to call me if they decide to charge admission to see my film, permission I will give. And if someone wants to have a bake sale and sell dupes of my disc, huzzah. Pick up the goddamn phone and chat with me. Is that so hard?

It comes down to this: while in many cases, I have happily allowed stuff I’ve created or assembled to join the Big Happy Shitball, this does not mean I have, by default, considered this to be the be-all end-all final answer for all future creations. Just because people “can” copy it and will ignore whatever license I put on it, Erik, does not mean that I have to automatically make it easy for them to do so in contradiction of my collaborators’ wishes. We do that, when we work together, you see; focus on the good we’re doing, instead of sneering into our soup when we don’t get it all handed to us on a silver platter with the words “E Pluribus Unum” etched on it.

Oh, well. Maybe next time, big fan.