1507: Why I Went Back, and The Fear

I was going to write about something else today, but after Mr Russ Pitts kindly linked to a piece I wrote this time last year in an excellent article regarding online abuse and trolling, I felt I should probably elaborate on some things that have happened since then.

Firstly, despite what I said in that piece, it transpires that I did eventually go back to Twitter. Why? Because, to be frank, I was lonely; I have a lot of friends on that social network, and it was difficult to stay in touch with them via other means. It’s also a particularly convenient means of reaching out to people for my current profession.

So I went back. However, I did so under a new username and a new email address — and being much more mindful of what I shared in my 140-character bio.

This is in itself kind of silly, really; I have to effectively “silence” an aspect of my personality based on my previous experience, and cannot be fully open about the things I enjoy or love, because it might attract organised bile and vitriol not just towards me, but towards people close to me, too. Thankfully, on the few occasions I have happened to mention ponies recently, things have passed without incident — I suspect the charmers at the “GNAA” have moved on to new victims by now.

Thinking of all this brings up an important consideration that I don’t believe a lot of Internet commenters stop to think about before spraying vitriol over an article they disagree with: the fact that the words you read on the Internet are, for the most part, written by an actual person with a brain, a heart, a soul and, you know, feelings. People disagreeing over various things is a fact of life — the world would be a boring place if everyone felt the same way about everything, as The Lego Movie suggested in a somewhat hamfisted way — but it’s the way you go about those disagreements that is important to consider, because arguing your case in the wrong way — or wilfully misreading or misunderstanding something someone has said — can have a severe impact on their mental health.

I’ve been fairly open on this blog about my own self-esteem issues and occasional feelings of “imposter syndrome” — the feeling that one day, you might be “found out” and have everything taken away from you. I consider myself hugely lucky to have the job I have, working alongside people I have respected enormously for many years — since childhood in at least one case. There are days when I feel like I’m even quite good at what I do — but there are also days when I seriously consider throwing in the towel and going to do something “invisible” with the rest of the drones in the daily workforce.

The difference between those two types of day can often be just a single comment. Just one, regardless of how many otherwise positive or supportive comments you might have that day — one single, unpleasant, negative or abusive comment can completely ruin the day of someone like me.

I’m not saying all games journalists are like me — though from some conversation during the establishment of TakeThis.org, which Russ mentioned in his post, mental health issues of various descriptions are alarmingly widespread in our profession — but it’s surely just basic human decency to not, in effect, walk up to someone and start hurling abuse at them. And yet it happens. And not just from inconsiderate gamers angry about the score you gave Titanfall, either; sometimes even people who claim to be fighting for worthy causes can be needlessly aggressive, confrontational or even abusive, too. It’s a plague across the whole Internet.

This leads to what I call The Fear, which in turn leads to what Russ talks about in his post: the assumption that “do not engage” is the only way to deal with bullying, abuse or even just plain unreasonable comments. There are days when I write things and I’m genuinely afraid to look at the comment section — it’s an irrational fear, I know, but it’s what this age of anonymous abuse has wrought.

And what a ridiculous situation that is, when you think about it. People who write for a living — many of whom are considerably more talented than I am — are subject to The Fear on a daily basis. You never can tell what it is that’s going to attract the next batch of abuse, or death threats, or defamation, or simple spitefulness. It’s a horrible feeling.

And yet we still stick around, for the most part. Why? Because even amid all this, we love what we do, and we love engaging with those people who like to have a reasonable discussion about things without necessarily agreeing on everything — those people who, if we’re honest, make up the majority of our feedback. Sometimes we even become friends with those people.

But as I say, it only takes one nasty comment to undo all the good those people do for us. Just one.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could live in a world where we could just love what we do without having to worry about The Fear ever again?

One day, perhaps. But there’s a long road ahead before we get there.

1337: The Value of Comments (Or the Lack Thereof)

Grand Theft Auto V’s reviews came out today — the game itself is out tomorrow.

Unsurprisingly, comments sections the world over erupted into chaos on each individual site’s review (although USgamer’s has, as ever, remained largely very polite and articulate, which is a trend I sincerely hope continues).

Of particular concern is Gamespot’s review, which gave the game 9/10 while still managing to point out the fact that yes, GTA has some issues with women that it really should have probably gotten over by now. My concern isn’t with the review itself, which is an interesting, well-argued read; rather, it’s with the 3,192 comments that are beneath it at the time of writing — a figure that is literally increasing by the second right now.

What is the value in that comments section? Leaving aside the loathsome content of a significant proportion of those individual comments, what possible value is there in allowing people to comment on a review at such a rate that it becomes literally impossible to follow a single conversation? What possible value is there in 3,216 (yep, it’s gone up in just those few words) comments, many of which contain the same ill-informed, bile-spewing opinions? For that matter, even if they didn’t contain said bile, what possible value is there in having 3,230 comments beneath a review? Who is going to read all that shit except, possible, judging by Twitter, for people who have a particular taste for masochism?

It’s not just Gamespot’s review that’s a problem, though it, at the time of writing, appears to feature by far the most objectionable people. Destructoid’s Jim Sterling has been complaining about commenters once again lambasting him for rating [game x] one score and [game y] another score when they have nothing to do with each other. He notes that he doesn’t believe review scores are the problem there, either.

Perhaps they aren’t, either; perhaps the problem is the comments section.

The trouble with proposing something drastic like eradicating all comments sections, however, is that they’re occasionally valuable — though increasingly we’re in a situation where comments sections are only useful and conducive to meaningful discussion on smaller sites such as USgamer, and personal outlets such as this blog. In the case of large-scale sites like IGN and Gamespot, it seems that all comments sections achieve is to give imbeciles a soapbox to stand on and bellow their idiocy from while simultaneously finding like-minded twats to validate their opinions, culminating in the ridiculous sight of people genuinely clamouring for Gamespot to fire the reviewer Carolyn Petit for giving Grand Theft Auto V 9 out of 10 instead of the 10 that they, the people who have not played it yet, think it deserves.

But what can be done? Should IGN and Gamespot just close their comments sections?

Well… Yes, I think they should. They’re clearly not adding any value to the conversation. There’s no sense in trying to make it a “dialogue” between the site and the readers when the comments come at such a pace and in such a volume that it’s impossible for the original writer to engage in discussion with people who actually want to engage in discussion, and in the meantime the braying idiots just get a megaphone with which to bellow their idiotic shit into the void. Shut ’em all off, I say, and leave the discussion to sites with a community small enough to make online interactions actually meaningful; let the big sites become places from which content is just shared and discussed via social media rather than the wretched scum-pits they seem to be becoming today. It’ll put the attention back on the actual writers and the things they’re saying — and it will probably significantly benefit said writers’ mental health, too, because I know I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the torrents of abuse some people have been getting today.

3,512 comments.

Can we reboot the Internet?

[EDIT, June 7, 2023: 22,164 comments. Just in case you were curious.]

1325: Focal Point

I’m sure any writer pals reading this can probably relate, judging from some things I’ve read recently: it is infinitely easier to focus on negative things than it is about positive ones. And those negative things absolutely dominate your thoughts, almost completely obliterating any good work the positive things might have done.

Let’s take an example. Recently, I wrote a lengthy article about “otaku games” — that particularly misunderstood aspect of Japanese gaming where people who don’t play them constantly judge them as being nothing more than pervy fanservice. To be fair to their opinion, there often is a fair amount of pervy fanservice in them, but it’s pretty rare that is the sole or even the most important part of them. Check out the piece here.

On the whole, response to the post has been very positive. I’ve been very happy to hear from a lot of fans of Japanese gaming who thanked me for giving a reasoned, rational take on the subject — with input from people who are actually involved in bringing these titles to the West — and for treating both the games and their fans with respect. I’ve had people tell me it’s a wonderful article, compliment me on covering something that other sites don’t bother with (or take the more common “This is Bad and Wrong, LOL JAPAN” stance on) and generally express a very genuine-feeling sense of appreciation for something I worked hard on.

So what do I find my brain focusing on? The guy who tweeted at me saying “TLDR” (seriously, that is pretty much one of the most disrespectful things you can say to a writer, especially when they’ve worked hard on something — try giving some constructive criticism or, even better, actually engaging with the points made in the piece), and the commenter who complained about me “not talking about the game” in my Tales of Xillia review and lambasting me for promoting an “incest simulator” in an article about visual novels. (Said “incest simulator” was Kana Little Sister, an incredibly moving work which I’ve written about at length in a number of places on the Internet; to refer to it as an “incest simulator” in a distinctly Daily Mail/Jack Thompson-esque way shows an astonishing lack of understanding, my keen awareness of which was what inspired me to write the “otaku games” piece in the first place.)

I wish I didn’t feel this way, but it made me feel somewhat better to read this piece over on Hookshot, Inc recently. Here’s what was, for me, the most pertinent part:

“Reader feedback is, in many ways, wonderful. It pulls writers down from pedestals and/or ivory towers, and it democratises a whole medium. Every voice is heard, and charlatans are uprooted. A culture of reader-fear has, arguably, been fostered – but ultimately people raise their game, and those much-suspected dirty deals are (by my reckoning) far less likely to occur today than they were five years ago.

“The problem is that all this is incredibly unhealthy for writers with… what you might call an ‘amiably complex psychological disposition’. I’m one of these people (it’s hugely common in my field – and indeed any creative arena) and I couldn’t even count how many of my working days have been ruined by an angry person venting steam beneath a piece I’ve written. The black dog starts barking, and your creative mojo runs away.

“Sure, the trolls are generally a minority – but when your mind has been built to concentrate on negativity rather than happy, happy, joy, joy (and you work at home, on your own) then comments threads are a mental plague pit.

“As a writer – what can you do about this? Well, you can start making your review scores more conservative for a start. Oh, and you can definitely avoid rocking boats that contain angry devotees of certain platforms, genres and franchises. Oh, and how about excising all humour for fear of miscomprehension from angry dullards you’ll never meet?

“OMG HANG ON GUYS OUR COLLECTIVE INSECURITY JUST BROKE GAMES WRITING.

“So basically: say what you want to say, and suck it up. There’s no wrong opinions, only a lot of people who think you should be fired for having a right one.”

I was simultaneously surprised, delighted and slightly depressed to read that. I wish it didn’t have to be that way, and I wish it was possible to train oneself to be more like, say, Jim Sterling — someone whom I greatly admire for his no-nonsense attitude and at least outward appearance of having thick skin. (For all I know, Sterling might finish his day job and cry himself to sleep over the torrents of abuse he receives on a daily basis, and I wouldn’t blame him if that were so — but I somehow doubt that’s the case anyway.)

Ah well, as Will Porter writes in that excellent Hookshot piece — seriously, go read it if you have a few minutes — the only real thing we, as writers, can do is say what we want to say and suck it up somehow. If we start sanitising our own opinions, thoughts and even writing styles to appease the lowest common denominator in the comments threads, then the world of writing would be a boring one indeed.

1306: Mark Book

My brain occasionally lapses into childhood when I contemplate looking at comment sections, because, as full of cretins as they sometimes are, comment sections are the modern-day equivalent of the red (sorry, green — red’s too aggressive) pen scribblings your teachers would scrawl after your assignments at school.

Imagine if the two scenarios were reversed, though. That’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Get your maths homework back with “lol fake and gay” written after it; read a New Statesman article and discover the entire comment section is nothing but people writing variations on “You have the beginnings of a good argument here, but your overuse of the word ‘problematic’ displays a disappointing lack of creativity that ultimately hurts the piece’s credibility. See me to discuss.”

Actually, I think in the latter case, that’d probably be preferable, to be honest.

I joke, but I do genuinely feel like I’m being “marked” when I see that there are comments on things that I’ve posted. In some senses, when you put something up for public perusal — particularly on something with a wider audience than this teeny-tiny personal blog — you are being marked, particularly if you’ve written something contentious.

A lot of writing on the Web is designed to persuade people of something or other, whether that’s that the reader should go and buy Gone Home (you probably should) or that the art in Dragon’s Crown is going to bring about the downfall of society as we know it (it’s probably not), and as such when someone feels compelled to leave a comment, they’re going to be going through your arguments, deciding whether or not they agree with them and then leaving their “judgement” on the piece. If someone agrees with you, it’s like getting a nice big tick, a “Good.” and a gold star; if someone disagrees with you — particularly if they do so aggressively — it’s like not only having a lengthy teacher comment that you hope your parents don’t catch a glimpse of, but it’s like having that comment publicly read out to the rest of the class.

Except there’s one key difference between comments and marks — comments are (theoretically, anyway) a dialogue; marks from your teacher are a one-way thing. (At least they were when I was at school; I wouldn’t be at all surprised if modern education invited pupils to “respond” to their teacher’s comments and/or “appeal” if they didn’t feel they’d been treated fairly.)

That’s a pretty big difference. Even if someone gives you a “bad grade” through a negative comment or a complete disagreement/dismissal of your opinion, you can attempt to engage with that person and start a conversation. Sometimes interesting discussions can arise; other times, utterly pointless shouting matches can result, leaving you wishing you’d never written the fucking thing in the first place.

Are comments valuable? There’s no easy answer to that question. I don’t think they’re valuable in all circumstances — it’s extremely rare to find a helpful YouTube comment, for example, and comments left on Facebook are 95% pointless, regardless of whether they’re left on personal posts or adverts — but at other times they can be the source of thought-provoking discussion and even the fostering of friendships. (Comments on this site have certainly fallen into that latter category, which I’m happy about, and over on USgamer we’ve mostly enjoyed respectful, well-considered discussion and debate from our commenters so far, which is immensely encouraging to see.)

Would the Internet be a better place without comment sections? Quite possibly; but it would also remove a lot of the ability to converse and engage with things that we take for granted today. So, for better or worse, they’re clearly here to stay.

Just remember to give your favourite writers a good mark every now and then!

1271: Don’t Read the… You Know

Popular gaming site IGN has decided to crack down on shitty comments. Given that a single IGN article attracts thousands of comments — the post describing the proposed changes currently has 2,309 and it was only posted a few hours ago — this is very much a good thing.

I’ve never really read IGN all that much. I had a couple of pieces posted there a few years ago — here and here (I was not responsible for the dreadful headline on that one, by the way) — but I’ve never really felt the need to engage with the community. There’s a few good writers there — a couple of whom I know personally — but it’s not, on the whole, a site I check regularly. And, by extension, it’s not a site I tend to look at the comments form.

My God.

Yeah. They need this crackdown. The comments section is a mess. Just on that one post linked above, there’s a surprising amount of negativity ranging from people insulting the writers (and their names… yes, his name is Steve Butts; grow the fuck up) to perpetuating stupid fanboy platform wars. The few positive comments that are there are quickly drowned out or reacted to with further abuse, and the “upvote/downvote” system the site has in place courtesy of popular third-party comment solution Disqus is completely abused; “good quality” comments aren’t upvoted, but dumb comments from “popular” posters are. Meanwhile, people advocating reason and praising the site’s changes are downvoted. Ridiculous.

I have to question how on Earth it got like that in the first place, and I can only assume it was a matter of complacency — of assuming that problems would sort themselves out after a while. But, since a lot of Internet commenters on sites like IGN are seemingly children and teenagers (or at least act that way), they’ll try and push the boundaries. If they encounter no resistance, they’ll continue to push further. It’s exactly the same as in teaching; if you don’t set expectations up front, you are only making life difficult for yourself down the road.

I’ve been fortunate with this blog that I only get a few commenters, all of whom are very welcome, and pretty much all of whom I’d call friends. Meanwhile, over at my new professional home USgamer, we’re already building a strong community of intelligent, articulate commenters who have plenty of value to add to the conversation. The quality of our content and the way in which we have written it — to provoke and inspire discussion — has helped set those initial expectations in place, so hopefully things will continue in a positive direction. I have no doubt we’ll have to deal with troublemakers before long — we’ve already had one charming chap call Kat Bailey a “bitch” for not liking Project X Zone as much as he did, and we swiftly and positively dealt with it — but for now, I’m very much liking the rather mature, erudite community we appear to have attracted for the most part so far.

Internet comments are both a blessing and a curse, as the cliché goes. On the one hand, it’s great to be able to have discussions around things that writers have posted on the Web; on the other hand, there’s little value in them if they always descend into trolling, name-calling and insulting. Fortunately, a lot of sites seem keen to put a stop to the bullshit; it remains to be seen if, in the long term, anything good will happen.

1186: Don’t Hate

There’s a curious phenomenon in comments sections around the land. And that phenomenon is that it is seemingly the law that someone, somewhere, must hate everything. Actually, that’s badly phrased; I don’t mean that one person hates everything — though I’m sure there are people who do — but instead I mean that whatever the thing that has been posted, there will always be at least one person who dislikes it for some reason and is inevitably the sort of person who is very vocal about their dislike of it.

This seems to happen particularly frequently in sectors that already have passionate userbases, or in which the userbases are seen as being a “subculture” and/or outside the “norm” somehow. I’m thinking specifically of the video games and anime sectors here — and before you start on me, for all the massive steps forward these media have made in terms of mainstream acceptance over the last 20-30 years they are still indelibly tarred with the “geek” brush to one degree or another.

Today, I was exploring the RPG Maker community who, by all accounts, appear to be a fairly friendly and helpful bunch for the most part, as I’ve previously mentioned. I was curiously browsing through some of the other users’ projects in progress and came across a few interesting-sounding games. One of the users noted that they had submitted their game to Steam Greenlight, the process whereby a game can end up being sold on Valve’s popular PC gaming digital download storefront if it gets enough positive votes from the community.

The game, by all accounts, sounded interesting and unconventional, and something I’d be intrigued to play. It was an “artistic” game, for want of a better word, designed as a means for the author to show what it was like living with depression. The author said upfront on the site that it was a mostly-linear, narrative-centric experience with a lot of text, and made no apologies for this fact. (For people like me, the terms “narrative-centric” and “lot of text” are selling points, not things to be ashamed of!)

Sadly, the Greenlight comments section was less than supportive for various reasons, featuring disparaging remarks for everything from it being “another depression game” (oh, sorry, there have been so many of those) to dismissing it simply because it’s an RPG Maker game. I’ve made my feelings on the latter point quite clear in the past, but they bear repeating: if a tool is available to help someone realise their artistic vision, there’s no reason why they shouldn’t use it, regardless of how many other people are also using it. And besides, some of my favourite games in recent memory have been RPG Maker titles — Corpse Party, To The Moon, Cherry Tree High Comedy Club… all of them were made in earlier versions of RPG Maker that were considerably less sophisticated than the excellent toolset that is VX Ace.

But I digress. The point is that the comments section was filled with hate for the sake of hate rather than actually constructive feedback. The fact that the game in question (Actual Sunlight, I believe it was called) was “another depression game” and an RPG Maker project had nothing to do with its quality, or its “value” to the Steam community as a whole, and yet these things were used as reasons to reject it, without even bothering to check it out.

In the anime sector, it seems that it’s fashionable to hate on whatever the biggest name show is at the time. Most recently, this has been seen with Sword Art Online, which I found to be a rollicking good time with an astonishingly spectacular soundtrack, some memorable characters and an interesting, intriguing and pleasingly mature (for the most part, anyway) storyline. It was a good show, in short; while it perhaps wasn’t the most intelligent anime you’ll ever see, it was certainly far more than a dumb, formulaic show.

Perhaps not something everyone would want to watch, no, but certainly far better than the overly-negative comments that would appear on J-List’s Facebook page any time site owner Peter Payne posted a piece of artwork relating to SAO. (Granted, J-List’s Facebook page is a place where any time a picture of a vaguely attractive anime girl is posted, one specific user will always be along within three comments of the start of the thread to helpfully inform everyone that “[he] would fuck her”, so it’s perhaps not the best place to go for objective criticism, but still; you’d expect a community of Japanophiles such as the followers of J-List’s page to be a bit more enthusiastic about the things they supposedly like!)

I honestly don’t get why this happens, and it seems to happen a lot. Why waste your time on hate when there is so much stuff out there to get you excited? Wouldn’t you rather feel happy and intrigued by something than angry or upset?

1113: Thin Skin

You know one of the people I admire the most on the whole Internet? Jim Sterling. While I may not always agree with his opinions and the way he argues them, that’s not why I admire him. No, the reason I admire him is how he can say something which may end up being controversial in some way (either due to subject matter or by going against popular opinion) and then not let the subsequent barrage of vitriol flying his way bother him. Or, if he does, he manages to hide it exceedingly well and simply brush it off as part of the job. (I have a sneaking suspicion that if it really did bother him, he wouldn’t still be in this business.)

I last wrote about this topic back on day 795 of this blog, and the things both I and Sterling said back then still ring true. I’m envious of Sterling because of the way in which he can rise above the abuse and not let negative comments get to him, because I am the exact opposite.

Let me explain to you what it’s like to browse a comments section when you suffer from anxiety and depression in various forms. First of all, you find yourself hoping that there are comments there at all. It’s nice to know that something you wrote has resonated enough with someone to compel them to respond. It’s even nicer if said someone comes along and agrees with you. Everyone likes to be agreed with and made to feel like they’re “right”, even in topics where there is no clear “right” or “wrong” answer. It’s particularly pleasing to know you’ve made a connection with someone who is often a complete stranger, and that you’ve been able to bond over the words that came out of your head and onto the page.

Now let’s say there’s a dissenting comment in there, too. It doesn’t have to be a vitriolic or abusive one, just one which disagrees with you in some way. Immediately, all the good work done by the positive comment is undone. Immediately, you feel a knot in your stomach as you start to read the dissenting opinions, and immediately you start to feel like a failure as a human being because your thoughts didn’t coincide with someone else’s. Should you have written that article at all? Should you continue writing at all? Or should you just pack it in altogether, because every time a dissenting opinion comes along, you end up feeling sick to your stomach?

There is, of course, a specific example I’m thinking of in this case. As you may be aware, I write a regular column about visual novels every week for Games Are Evil. I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject, just someone with a strong interest in the medium and an urge to tell others about the great experiences I’ve had with them. This week, I decided to write about the treatment of sex in visual novels, which often tend to be very explicit on the erotic content front. The first comment I got was from a regular commenter on the column, and fell into the first category I described above. A subsequent one fell into the second category, telling me that I’d chosen bad examples to back up my points and accusing me of not knowing my subject matter. The comment itself was relatively respectful in tone, now that I’ve had a few hours to stew on it, but I came away from initially reading it feeling pretty shitty about myself. I’d worked hard on that piece and had put myself out there by sharing my opinions, and to have them shot down in that manner and accused of not knowing my stuff was actually quite upsetting.

I am aware that I broke one of the cardinal rules of the Internet by looking at the comments section at all, I am also aware that it’s highly possible that I will never see or hear from that commenter again, and I am also aware that everyone is entitled to their opinion and no-one is obliged to agree with me — but that simple failure to connect made me rather upset and has left me feeling quite glum all evening. It’s a total overreaction, I know, and I should learn from Sterling’s example and grow a thicker skin — or argue my corner better — but, well, that’s the experience of living with anxiety and depression. It only takes a few poorly-chosen words to make someone like me feel like crap, and it’s mostly our fault for being that way and not doing anything about it.

You should, of course, be able to freely express your opinions just as much as me, but just think about the way you’re saying the things you want to say before you hit that “post” button, please?

#oneaday Day 720: To the Lurkers

As a somewhat belated and not-very-difficult-to-accomplish New Year’s resolution, I thought I’d make a specific effort to try and engage a bit more with those who leave comments on here. Being a relatively directionless personal blog, of course, the vast majority of my readership is made up of people that I already know in real life (or quasi-real life, otherwise known as “elsewhere on the Internet”). But in the last year particularly, I’ve seen quite a few people showing up here who aren’t among my immediate group of close friends.

That’s not a bad thing! Don’t shy away!

Whew. Thought I’d lost you for a minute.

Anyway, to all new readers, I’d like to say a big hello! And to those who have been reading for quite some time, hello! and thanks for reading!

I know there’s quite a few people out there who read but never comment, either, so I thought it might be nice to devote this whole post to us just getting to know one another a bit. If you’re a lurker and you’ve never commented on this blog, why not make this the first post you write a message on? If you’re a long-time commenter, why not get to know some of the other random people who frequent this site and strike up some friendships between the disparate social circles in which I move, both on and offline.

Of course, this is all a moot point if no-one comments on this post, so I’m hoping that I don’t end up looking somewhat foolish by putting this post up only to receive no responses whatsoever. And this isn’t a shallow, thinly-veiled attempt to get more comments — well, it sort of is, but that’s not the primary point. Many bloggers seem to measure their worth by how many comments they get. Me? I’m just curious as to who out there is reading this, who they are, what they’re doing and what brought them here.

So I’ll start. I’m Pete. I’m 30 years old. Were my girlfriend writing this, she would have emphasised the word “old” since she is several years my junior. I live in Chippenham, which is a small and unremarkable town in Wiltshire, somewhere in the depths of the West Country of the United Kingdom. I live with my girlfriend Andie in a small two bedroom house which has two very friendly cats named Artie and Chester who live next door and frequently barge their way into our house.

Until the end of last year, I was a writer for GamePro.com, which sadly folded at the end of last year. Currently, I write for Inside Network covering social games and mobile apps, and am looking for a little more work with which to top up the money I’m getting from that. In past lives, I’ve been a teacher in both primary and secondary schools (swearing “never again” to both), a supply teacher (ditto), a Creative and a Specialist in the Southampton Apple Store, a temp at the Most Depressing Company In The World (a loss adjusters, if you’re familiar with the concept), and at university I was a starters chef at a pub and The Man Who Collected Glasses and Cleaned Up Sick at a grotty, “trendy” bar in Southampton city centre.

I went to university in Southampton for four years, the first three of which were spent studying English and Music, a more useless combination of subjects I don’t think it’s possible to pick when considering future employment prospects. (Kids: ignore anyone who says English is a “good, general degree”) The last year was spent doing a PGCE (Postgraduate Certificate of Education) — in other words, training to be a teacher.

I got married in October of 2008 but my wife and I split in May of 2010, an experience which was quite possibly the most emotionally agonising, painful thing I’ve ever been through. I made it out the other side, though, and can accept that mistakes were made on both sides, and have moved on.

I like video games, cats, music (I play the piano, clarinet and saxophone), drawing stickmen, my iPhone, reading, writing, blogging, the Internet, Community, Friends, Spaced and friends with whom I can both talk seriously and make jokes about flatulence. I hate onions, spiders, leeks, The X-Factor, people who won’t shut up about platform wars on either console or mobile (seriously! Just use what makes you happy, and stop telling other people they’re wrong and/or gay), Facebook Timeline, spam (on the Internet, not the meat), Big Brother, reality TV in general and the sort of teenager who wears tracksuits that look like pyjamas and too much Lynx.

That’s me, handily summed up in a few paragraphs. A more comprehensive breakdown of my skills can be found here. Any questions?

So what about you? Who are you? Why are you reading this? Where did you come from? Do you think I’m se– no, wait, that’s a different list.

#oneaday Day 638: Idiots of the App Store

Everyone knows that you shouldn’t read Internet comments where the public has been allowed to voice its opinions without any filtering. It’s why sensible people avoid looking at 4chan, YouTube comments and App Store reviews. But, like a car crash, sometimes you just can’t look away from these comments sections, no matter how infuriating they might end up being.

I made the mistake of browsing the App Store tonight and perusing a few obviously stupid apps which, inevitably, had rather low ratings. Let’s see what the reviewers had to make of them, shall we?

First up is Mario and Friends. This decidedly copyright-infringing app makes it very clear in its description that it is a soundboard featuring music and sound effects from classic titles such as Mario, Zelda and Sonic. Let’s take a small sample of the reviews:

“This is not a game. Where is my money?” — Cheat11111111

“Please do not buy this app does not work my young grand daughter was so disappointed !!” — ena Sproule

“Thought this was the game what a load of rubbish I mean why wud we want the listen to the music without playing the actual game?? Waist of 69p!!!” — lisa green

“None of the buttons work so it’s impossible to play waste of money” — Al24467

What you’ll see from most App Store reviews of this type are a few consistent features: overuse of exclamation marks, an inability to know when one sentence ends and another begins, and an inability to use the correct homophone.

Let’s take a look at another excellent example: Unlock It! which promises new lock themes for your iPhone and, again, in the description makes it clear that it’s a spoof app, not an actual means of overriding a fundamental way the iPhone works. Here are some choice reviews:

“I was so happy that I would be able to Chang e the lock screen but then it turned out to be a scam! I doesn’t let you change the lock screen! Do not get it! SO UNHAPPY!!” — Kezmatron

“Should’ve read the reviews – this is tripe!!” — Jonzo15a

“Don’t get it.. I was so happy with idea.. Then so upset with the lies that lied deep inside!! C***S!!” — Bleepsound

“This app is a complete con. Do not buy it. It does not have any of the functionality it claims to offer it simply takes a photo which you can save as your background to imitate a security function. Very poor.” — Black and White Army

“A new this app sounded 2 gd to be true” — Dj disco dave

What have we learned from all this? That the sort of person who leaves App Store reviews probably hasn’t read the app description before downloading. This type of person can be regularly seen elsewhere on the Internet indulging in very similar behaviour in other places — commenting on N4G having only read the headline, not the whole article; commenting on a YouTube video without watching the video; commenting on a news story without reading the story; commenting on a Facebook page without looking to see what kind of page it is; and numerous others.

It’s very simple, people. Slow down. Read things. If you’re looking at something, look at it properly. You’ve taken the time to click a link to something or other — why not check it out properly rather than immediately flying off the handle and crying “scam!”/”fake!”/”bias!”/”fanboy!”/”bullshit!” etc.

Ahhh. It’s nice to want things, isn’t it?

#oneaday Day 62: Too Long, Still Read

I’m almost entirely certain I have ranted on this topic at least once in the past. But, well, it bears repeating, given what I do both here and professionally.

More than one paragraph isn’t bad.

More than 140 characters isn’t bad. (Unless you’re using Twitter, when all the deck.ly and TwitLonger nonsense kind of defeats the object.)

I read an answer to a question on GameFAQs earlier. The original poster had asked something which required quite a detailed answer. One respondee gave a detailed, good answer that was two paragraphs long, probably about 150-200 words or so. He apologised for writing “alot of text” (sic)—and I’ll let the “alot” slide for the minute because there are bigger issues at work here, dammit. (Incidentally, if you’ve never seen this, well, you should.)

No. Stop apologising when you write things. Stop complaining at people in forums if they write detailed thoughts. Stop providing lazy people with “TL;DR” summaries and make them read. No wonder people haven’t got the patience for books any more if they can’t bear to read more than 10 words of someone else’s opinion at a time and inevitably respond with something utterly inane like “lol”. (And I bet they’re not even really laughing out loud either, the bastards.)

Language is an incredibly powerful thing. Look at all the things it’s built over the years. Those things didn’t come about by people worrying about writing an “OMFG WALL OF TEXT” and people ignoring them. Those people had something to say and damn well said it, in detail, and argued their case. Their passion for what they were talking about came through in the power of the words that they chose, their enthusiasm for the topic came across with the depth into which they explored their topics verbally and on paper.

Now granted, there are times when brevity is better than verbosity. Anything from any government agency or law office, for example. I received a letter from the tax office a while back which went on for 3 pages when the single word “no” would have sufficed. These people have nothing to say and ironically spend pages and pages proving how little they have to say. Why? Who knows. To sound “official”, perhaps.

But people with opinions? People debating things? People being—who’d have thought it—helpful? There’s no sin in using a few more words if it might make someone think, discuss or smile.

So stop apologising when you write something, be it a blog post, forum post, Yahoo! Answers answer (well, someone has to write them) or blog comment. If you have something to say, it is absolutely your right to be able to say it without worrying about whether its length is going to put people off (*deftly sidesteps “that’s what she said” gag*). And those who are too lazy to read a couple of paragraphs of comment? Well, they’re probably not the sort of person you’d want to engage in a debate anyway. So F them in the B.

TL;DR: Stop being a dick.