1477: Nondescript

It's been one of those days that just sort of… happened today. I wrote about EA's horrendous molestation of the Dungeon Keeper series, gave Flappy Bird a well-deserved drubbing in a review and a few other things, then played an interesting horror game called Serena which I'm going to write a review of tomorrow, then capped the evening off with some Final Fantasy XIV. That was my day. That was it.

Much as we might like to always have interesting things to talk about and tall tales to tell, the fact is that most days we go through our existence are pretty humdrum, boring and nondescript, with almost nothing of note happening whatsoever.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course, because having humdrum, boring and nondescript days suggests that things are going all right — it's better than having days that are crushing disappointments, or that make you want to punch walls, or that make you want to sit in the shower and cry, for example, but it's also not quite as good as days that make you want to explode in happiness or play a pair of tea tongs like castanets. (Actually, I must confess to doing the latter earlier while waiting for a cup of tea to brew, but it was more through boredom than happiness. Tea tongs actually make a surprisingly convincing castanets substitute, FYI.)

Perhaps this is why social media has risen to such prominence in recent years. Everything from the humble status update to a "selfie" has the potential to make the mundane seem so much more fascinating than it really is — at least it does to the people posting these things. Yes! they'll think. Here's my dinner! It's amazing! Maybe people will be jealous of what I'm having! I have beans with sausages! Joke's on you, losers! Oh God I'm so lonely.

It's sort of baffling if you take a step back from it all, really. Take photography in particular — the rise of digital photography and phone cameras have devalued the humble photograph from cultural artifact to disposable, throwaway thing. Photos used to be a precious commodity — you'd go on holiday with a couple of 36-exposure rolls of film in your bag, and you'd try to make every shot count. Now, you can afford to take pictures of every course of every meal you have and share them to the world as if they give a shit. And Silicon Valley types who enjoy making new social media apps for no other reason than to say they attracted several million in seed funding, whatever that is, can take advantage of people like this by offering them apps that allow them to "turn your photographs into beautiful memories" and the like. Ugh.

Of course, the Internet belongs to everyone so it is your choice how you choose to go about using it. Just remember that the things you're posting might not be as interesting to other people as they might be to you. Heaven knows I know that after writing 1,477 days of nonsense on these very pages.

There you go. I even have something to say on a humdrum, boring and nondescript day such as today. And now I'm going to bed. Good night.

1463: Losing Face

I've been off Facebook for some time now — a cursory search through these pages suggests I closed my account in October of last year — and for the most part I haven't missed it.

I certainly haven't missed the endlessly inane reshares of content from George Takei('s PR intern) which in turn was stuff that already did the rounds on Reddit and subsequently Twitter several days earlier.

I also haven't missed the few people who seem to think that Facebook is an appropriate platform for standing atop their soapbox and bellowing the most ill-informed political and/or sociological opinions they can possibly think of.

I also haven't missed having shit games and advertising jammed forcibly down my throat every time I log in. I spent a considerable amount of time reviewing Facebook games professionally and all it left me with was a bitterly passionate desire to never play one ever again.

And yet…

Over the weekend I went out. This is nothing unusual in itself, but this was something of a special occasion — it was a reunion of sorts for those of us who studied music at the University of Southampton between 1999 and 2002. We were a pretty close-knit bunch while we were there — though I must confess, being a joint-honours English and Music student, that I always felt somewhat on the periphery of this particular social group — and most people have kept in touch pretty well ever since. A number of us are still in Southampton, too, though a distressingly small number of us are actually doing anything with our music studies professionally. (Note to kids planning their future: when someone tells you that a particular degree is a "good, general choice that will get you into most careers," they are talking bollocks.)

Anyway, yeah. We went out to a pub near Newbury and ate our respective body weights in roast dinners and custard-covered desserts. It was thoroughly pleasant, particularly as I hadn't seen some of these people for a while.

It's partly my fault, of course — I could have very easily picked up the phone and invited them over for dinner, or coffee, or whatever, but I haven't. But then they haven't either. I don't say this with bitterness — it's just the way that the rapid pace of modern 21st century life makes people think. Real-life friendships often fall by the wayside somewhat, and people whom you once spent every day with become people that you see a couple of times a year — albeit on those occasions, you'll start singing improvised offensive German barbershop a cappella as if no time whatsoever had passed between the last couple of times you saw one another. (At least you will if you are me and my friends.)

The thing is, though, for many people, Facebook fills that gap between in-person interactions — or "face time" as obnoxious wankers like to call it. It allows you to remind each other of your existence, and to likewise acknowledge one another's existence with a Like or a Comment.

At least, that's the intention. One might argue that said intention has been somewhat diluted over the last few years as Facebook has become less and less about meaningful social interactions and more and more about sharing viral content in an attempt to amass as many Likes, comments and shares as possible.

Having almost missed out on this reunion due to my non-presence on Facebook, I find myself questioning my decision to leave the network. It also makes me ponder whether or not it might be possible to use it in a different way — specifically, to have a substantial cull of my friends list to just those who are local and whom I am likely to want to see again at some point. I'd cut out any Pages that I was following — not that I think I was following many in the first place — and keep my friends list down in the double-digits if at all possible. I'd be ruthless in the culling of people who didn't post anything interesting or useful and consequently cluttered up my news feed with bullshit, and I'd lock down my account so I'd be in complete control of who could find me. I'd also minimise overlap between Facebook and Twitter, because what's the point?

I'm tempted to try this, though with all the changes I've seen Facebook make regarding how it decides what it wants to show to you, I have my doubts as to how useful the service is even with these attempts to take ownership of the experience. It certainly can't hurt to give it a go, anyway, and if it does turn out to be useless nonsense as I suspect, it's little bother to simply hit the "deactivate" button again.

I'll leave you with this, which is a big part of my hesitance to return:

1371: Cutting the Cord

You'll recall that I've been contemplating this for some time now, but as I promised to myself, I've reached a decision: the Monday after this one just coming, I'm deactivating my Facebook account.

"Who cares?" I hear you say. And, well, that's sort of the point, really; I don't care about Facebook. It is largely useless to me these days.

As I noted in my post a few days ago, there's been a noticeable shift in the quality of posts among my Facebook friends recently. While I don't blame any of them for wanting to share things that are important to them personally, it's getting to the point where there's so much noise that there's not any room for conversation any more.

Social media is increasingly becoming "fire and forget"; people post something designed to get noticed — perhaps a passive-aggressive status update, or some sort of sociopolitical rant, or an Upworthy article with a particularly smug title — and then wait for the comments and likes to roll in. And then… nothing. Nothing at all. There's no discussion — except in rare sociopolitical cases where you can guarantee there'll be at least one person coming along to state the opposite opinion and start a tedious circular argument in which no-one ever agrees to disagree — and no real value to it all. For me, anyway.

I remember being resistant to Facebook when it first started getting big. A number of my real-life friends were encouraging me to jump aboard — remember, Facebook used to only allow you to add people you actually knew — but I thought it was going to be a passing Myspace-ish fad, and as such held off for a long time. I finally gave in while I was on holiday in the States visiting my brother, and Facebook proved to be a good means of sharing the photos I'd taken — photos that I was particularly keen to share because I'd started experimenting a bit more with composition and editing.

All was good for a while; Facebook's Groups and Events features served their purpose for a while, too, proving to be a practical means of organising collections of people and inviting people to events. But increasingly, over time, and as Facebook started to become more and more popular and more open, these features lost their value. When was the last time you responded to an Event invite? When was the last time you joined a Group?

I can trace the beginning of Facebook's downfall from my personal perspective to a fairly precise moment — it was back when they started making it into a "platform" instead of simply a site; back when Facebook games and "apps" first started appearing. I was initially in favour of this — the accompanying site redesign that came with the launch of the Facebook platform made the site look a whole lot better on big, high-resolution monitors, and it was and still is a potentially good idea to have the site act a bit like an operating system.

Unfortunately, things just declined from there. There started to be too much of everything. Too many games, too many people, too many ways of posting. People felt obliged to share each and every mundane little thing about their lives, egged on by other people and the mass media. Today, you can't watch the news without the newsreader demanding to "let us know what you think"; you can't watch a new TV show without a hashtag appearing in the corner.

These things aren't bad in isolation, of course. It's neat to be able to discuss a TV show in real time while it's on; it's cool that people have a medium of self-expression and communication that simply wasn't really possible and practical pre-broadband and smartphones. But everything just adds up to a frustrating experience, and it all but destroys the original point of Facebook — a cosy little private network where you could easily communicate with your real-life friends and share select photos and notes with them.

Times have changed. I haven't gone with them. And I'm fine with that. As such, the Monday after next, my Facebook account is going kaputt. I'm leaving a week's leeway in order to ensure that those people who do want to stay in touch have the opportunity to pick up my alternative contact details; those who don't bother? Well, it's probably time I cut those people out of my life, anyway.

If you're reading this, have (or indeed had, if you're reading this after the fact) me on Facebook and want to know alternative means of getting in touch with me if you don't already have them, let me know via a comment on this post — be sure to leave your email address in the appropriate field.

Tata, Facebook. It's been fun. It's not you, it's me.

Actually, it is you.

1365: Your Face

I find myself once again giving serious thought to the closure of my Facebook account. This is not something I should be agonising over as much as I have been, I know, but given that Facebook is such a firmly-entrenched part of modern society, it bears some consideration.

The main thing that's frustrating me with it at present is the fact that the whole "broadcast and amplification" thing seems to be getting far worse than it's ever been. My News Feed at present consists almost entirely of people making ill-informed political statements and sharing the latest scaremongering chain letter that they haven't bothered to fact-check. (Currently? It's an apparent epidemic of "false widow" spiders in the UK — these spiders do actually exist, but it's rare that a bite from one will cause anything more than a bit of discomfort, and certainly not require the amputation of a limb in any cases other than those which have suffered the most severe of allergic reactions.)

The point here is that Facebook's original purpose of communicating and sharing personally meaningful things has all but completely gone out of the window in favour of sharing the latest "inspiring" clickbait from Upworthy (seriously, fuck off, Upworthy, Buzzfeed and all of your fellow content farms), the latest moral panic from Daily Mail-like sources, or the latest "OMG hilarious!!!" video from whatever dark corner of the Internet produces nothing but "OMG hilarious!!!" videos.

The reason I hesitate so much and continually wonder whether cutting the Facebook cord is a good idea is that old chestnut — "it's the only way I'm still in touch with some people." Well, to be honest, a lot of those people for whom Facebook is the only means I can still contact them I haven't actually spoken to for ages, even on Facebook; those people who actually care will probably know how to reach me via other means, or will pay attention if I leave some sort of post with alternative contact information prior to closing down my account. Those people who don't care? Well, I guess they weren't that good friends after all.

In cutting the Facebook cord, then, it will doubtless be sad to effectively cut ties to some university and school friends, but it's also an inescapable truth of life: people go their separate ways following milestones, and sometimes that's for the best. I won't deny that there are people I miss, but I've been just as lax at staying in touch with a lot of these people as they have been lax towards me. It's no reflection on either me or them in most cases; it's simply the fact that our lives have moved on in different directions, and we each have our own different priorities, groups of friends and personal interests.

Typing this out has helped me think a few things over. I'm going to carefully examine my Facebook usage over the next week, and make a decision at the end of the week as to whether or not I'm going to close my account. If I decide to close it — which, right this second, is the decision I am erring towards — I will leave a message up on my profile for a further week with alternative contact information — where people can find me elsewhere on the Internet (primarily Twitter or Google+), or via email — and then close it. At that point, those people who want to get in touch can; those who can't will be confined to the past, likely never to be heard from again.

Anyway. Apologies for thinking out loud. Perhaps some of you are thinking the same things too, though.

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.

1324: Fury

I hate anger in all its forms — whether it's directed at me, coming from me or going on around me.

I'm not entirely sure where this feeling comes from — perhaps there's some sort of deep-seated trauma from some event in my past that I'm repressing — but it means I've always felt enormously uncomfortable whenever there's any sort of anger present near me, whether "near" means physically close to me or simply within my frame of awareness thanks to the Internet.

I remember getting extremely upset any time my parents would have an argument when I was little. However much I was assured that it was a natural part of any relationship, it still always filled me with anxiety. I felt that same feeling of anxiety whenever I got angry at school — usually the result of being bullied — and fearing that I'd lose control. And I feel the same thing today whenever there's anger around me — or coming from me. I get uncomfortable, restless — even physically shaky at times if I'm the one expressing anger — and I hate it.

Consequently, I find it increasingly difficult to deal with the seemingly-constant fury that comes from certain quarters of the Internet. If it's not one thing, it's another — there's always something out there pissing someone off, and they always want to talk about it at great length, usually with some sort of public shaming involved. And I just can't deal with it, frankly.

The natural response is, of course, to simply switch off, walk away or unfollow these people altogether but that brings with it a whole host of modern etiquette questions that we simply didn't used to have to worry about. If I unfollow, for example, a Twitter user who is mostly a decent person but who occasionally descends into mouth-frothing zealotry any time certain topics come up — to what I consider an unreasonable degree, regardless of how valid their points are — what will they think of me? What do I say if I ask them why I unfollowed them, assuming they notice? Am I honest about it? Or do I make up some lie about that probably fictional Twitter bug that makes it "randomly unfollow" people every so often? (Oh shit, did I let the cat out of the bag? Sorry.)

I am overthinking this issue, I'm sure; if people make me uncomfortable, I should just take myself out of that situation and prevent myself from getting drawn into something that would make me even more uncomfortable. The consequences I worry about might not even happen at all; if they do, I just have to deal with them. The fact I'm unable to participate in some discussions as a result is probably a good thing in the long term — there are plenty of other things out there that I can engage with, so I should focus my attention on those rather than things that make me anxious or uncomfortable.

This self-indulgent stream of consciousness brought to you by Internet Rage. Now I'm off to go and play Corpse Party in bed. Good night.

1316: Get Hype

I've written about this on at least one occasion before, but the fact that Breaking Bad is on television again has reminded me of the curiously inverted effect that hyperbole has on me. In other words, the more people waffle on about how amazing something is, the less I want to pay any attention to it whatsoever. I've long since muted everything to do with Breaking Bad for this reason, as it's completely dulled any enthusiasm I might have once had for something that is — by most accounts — very good.

Breaking Bad is a curiously extreme example of what I'm talking about. It's doubly infuriating because everyone posting about it on social media is also being incredibly conscious of spoilers — Breaking Bad fans hate spoilers — and thus what we end up with at the time a Breaking Bad episode is broadcast is a string of tweets that say absolutely nothing. To be more precise, they tend to be nothing but a string of tweets of people going things like "OH MY GOD" and "WOW" which has absolutely no meaning whatsoever to those who aren't watching the show.

Now, I'll grant that Twitter provides a reasonably practical means for Breaking Bad fans to get together and discuss the show — or, more accurately, "react" to it in real-time — but it really doesn't inspire anything like in-depth discussion, and thus I have to question the value of doing this, particularly as it has several knock-on effects: 1) people who don't like Breaking Bad get pissed off 2) people who might have wanted to watch Breaking Bad at some point get fed up and decide they don't really want to watch it until everyone shuts the fuck up about it and 3) the people who are actually watching Breaking Bad are only giving the show half their attention because they're flip-flopping back and forth between the TV screen and their phone.

I tried the "livetweeting" experience a couple of years back when I got vaguely into The Apprentice. I picked up a few followers in the process and found some entertaining people, too, but it really wasn't worth it; the number of people who got irritated at it didn't really make up for the people I "met" in the process, and the interactions I was having with others who were "reacting" to the show in real time were superficial at best. I didn't find it particularly valuable, in other words; certainly no more so than sitting around watching a show with friends in the same room, which is something I don't tend to do — TV, for me, tends to be an accompaniment to something else (like eating dinner) rather than an activity in itself.

More than the fact I didn't find it particularly valuable socially, though, I just found it frustrating to do — if I was tweeting while watching, I found myself unable to concentrate on what was going on on the screen, so eventually I gave up, much to the relief of my Twitter followers.

Ultimately, it's your Internet; if you want to "ooh" and "aah" at Breaking Bad while it's on, feel free — I simply reserve the right to mute your ass if you do it too much!

Grump over. Time to go to a pre-wedding celebration.

1298: Far from the Valley

Jeez. I am so glad I'm not reviewing mobile and social apps any more.

I know I've said this numerous times before, but I feel like every day I come across something even more offensively vapid and pointless that makes me want to punch everyone involved in the face for thinking it could possibly have ever been a good idea.

Today, I came across an app called "Kahnoodle." Here it is.

Kahnoodle is a "relationship app" that, according to The Atlantic, "wants to make maintaining your relationship automatic and easy — as easy as tapping a button. Its options include sending push notifications to initiate sex; 'Koupons' that entitle the bearer to redeemable movie nights and kinky sex; and, of course, the love tank, which fills or empties depending on how many acts of love you’ve logged."

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

Kahnoodle isn't the only app of this type, I might add. As the Atlantic piece linked above notes, "couples' apps" have been around for a while now, and represent some of the most pointless implementations of social media I've ever seen: they're social networks designed for just two people. I reviewed one a while back called either Couple or Pair (I forget which one it was, because they changed the name from one to the other, which made all the App Store reviewers of it disproportionately angry at the developers) with Andie, and we both agreed within a matter of seconds that it was an utter waste of time.

The reason that apps like Couple/Pair and Kahnoodle are utterly pointless, of course, are because there are infinitely better ways to do the same thing already available that don't require their own dedicated app. You can privately message people via Facebook, Google, AIM, Skype, email, text message, What'sApp, Kik… hundreds of other potential apps, from which you can talk to, you know, other people as well as your partner.

Kahnoodle's selling point is that it "gamifies" your relationship, and as we all know from listening to Silicon Valley startup tosspieces, "gamification" increases "engagement" and "brand awareness" or whatever bullshit they're talking about this week. Because these apps, despite appearances, aren't really about bringing people together and helping them communicate at all; they're about building up a captive audience who can then be either advertised at or monetised straight up the bumhole — sometimes both, in some sort of hideous business double-penetration scenario.

I apologise for that mental image. But if you need to "gamify" your relationship in order to remember to have sex or whatever, then perhaps you should sit down and have a very serious talk with your partner, because I would suggest that's a sign that Things Aren't Going All That Well. A real-life relationship is not like The Sims, where you can get yourself out of the doghouse by grinding the Chat, Compliment and Joke options until the meter climbs out of the red.

Sigh. Anyway.

One of the big reasons the App Store, Google Play and its ilk are such frustrating places to browse these days are because there are so many of these ridiculous apps available that provide nothing of any particular worth to society. The few useful apps that are available for phones inevitably get buried under this torrent of digital sewage, leaving those who are making good things consistently frustrated at the fact their stuff can never get noticed. It's not just in mobile games this is happening — it's in all types of apps. I've pretty much given up looking at the App Store now — I use my phone for basic communication through Twitter, Facebook, email and the like, and only download something from the App Store if I know precisely and specifically what I'm looking for.

So good job, shovelware merchants; you've pretty much destroyed the concept of "discoverability" with your relentless pursuit of the crap. I hope you're pleased with yourselves.

1283: Dislike

I find myself thinking more and more about deactivating my Facebook account. I realise that in this day and age doing such a thing is tantamount to unplugging yourself from The Matrix, but I really don't feel there's a lot of value there for me any more.

The thing that has stopped me from closing my Facebook account in the past is the fact that "it's the only real means I have of staying in touch with certain people." That may be true, but the real question is how often I actually speak to the people for whom the only means I have of reaching them is Facebook? I have a lot of doubling-up between Facebook and Twitter, and in the case of most of my "real-life" friends I have their phone numbers. If I want to make plans with someone, I'll generally text them. If I don't have their phone number, I'll reach for Twitter. Facebook messages are frequently ignored.

The reason Facebook's value has declined for me over time is because the social media landscape has changed. What was once a cool means of communication has been roughly shoved in the direction of "branding" and advertising. It's obvious the moment you read anything in tech journalism about social media, whether it's Facebook or the latest pointless mobile app that lets you manipulate photos no-one cares about in a slightly different way to all the other apps that let you manipulate photos no-one cares about. None of the press coverage about new social media apps has anything to do with people communicating with one another; it's all about how brands can leverage their social graph and monetize their core demographics. It's about how a seemingly innocent app that allows you to subtly manipulate photos no-one gives a shit about is actually a means of getting your "brand" in front of as many people as possible. It's about "engagement", "ROI" and "CPC".

I don't give a fuck. And I don't want to be a part of it. I don't want to be confronted with an ad for an app or game I don't give a shit about before I see anything my friends have posted — which, nine times out of ten, I probably don't give a toss about anyway. I don't want to be continually confronted with "sponsored posts" festooned with comments from complete imbeciles who think telling an ad to "fuck off" will make it go away. And I really couldn't give a flying honk what George Takei's PR team (spoiler: that's not George Takei writing those posts) saw on Reddit last week and is only now getting around to sharing with everyone on the Internet.

Even outside of "branding" and advertising, though, the way people use Facebook has changed, too. With more and more different types of post available, the service has become more of a means of simply broadcasting pointless, impersonal shit into the void of the Internet rather than a way to start discussions or have conversations. What was once a two-way discussion is now a largely one-way street. (I'm aware a blog is exactly the same, but at least a blog is under no illusions about what it is and is not; Facebook, meanwhile, has always marketed itself as some form of communication tool, when this is, in fact, a relatively minor part of its reason for existence these days.)

All this may be hypocritical, because I've been guilty of all of the above at one time or another. But that was a process of discovery and exploration, leading me to the realisation I'm at today: aside from Twitter, which genuinely is still a reasonably useful means of communication for me, most other forms of social media carry little value to me besides giving me something to fiddle with on my phone when small talk dries up and I don't want to just sit there looking like some sort of mute twat.

I haven't decided yet whether or not I'm actually going to close down my Facebook account, but now I don't work reviewing awful, exploitative and, hell, just downright crap social games for a living, I have no real "need" for that particular ball and chain any more. I'm going to do some very serious thinking about whether Facebook has a place in my life any more in the next week or two, and come to a conclusion then. If you've been having similar thoughts to me, then I urge you to do the same. I have a strange feeling we'll feel better without that particular annoyance in our lives.

1250: Anger Leads to Suffering

I've been back on Twitter for a little while. I know I said I wouldn't, but for professional reasons, it made sense to have it as a means of communication now I'm on USgamer — I've already managed to get in touch with a number of different devs and write stories thanks to that bloody service.

Twitter remains infuriating, however, because people still don't quite seem to get that 140 characters is not a good amount of space in which to have a discussion. You can spill over into more and more tweets and rant on and on, but as soon as you start spamming like that, people switch off.

The other thing that Twitter encourages is kneejerk, usually furious responses. Sometimes these are justified; other times, all they do is damage the perception of the people who are trying to make otherwise coherent arguments.

By far the most consistently-occurring issues that come up in my Twitter feed are matters relating to any and all of sexism, feminism and transphobia in particular. As I've said on numerous occasions in the past, I support the causes that these people are trying to forward: women are just as awesome as men and should be treated as such; a person is a person, regardless of biological sex and/or gender, and shouldn't be treated as a second-class citizen based on prejudice; most importantly, just don't be a dick.

However, where the people campaigning for these things lose me is in their behaviour when it comes to advancing their causes. I do not and will not believe that the best way to enact change is to get really fucking angry at something, mock people who don't subscribe to your exact viewpoint and then publicly shame people repeatedly until they clam up and don't want to say anything. That shit is viral — if you behave that way, people will see the way you act towards others, and that in turn will make them not want to engage in discussions we should all feel confident and good about having. In trying to further a cause of equality and encouraging oppressed minorities to stand up for themselves, in other words, you're actually silencing people in the process. It doesn't matter whether those people you silence are the "privileged" — usually white men — because all you're doing is… doing what you want people to stop doing. Do you see where the problem is, here?

Most recently, Mike Krahulik of Penny Arcade attracted the ire of these particularly vocal people on Twitter by making some ill-advised and ill-informed comments about transgender people. This isn't the first time he's said something stupid, and it probably won't be the last. I honestly believe he's not saying these things from a position of genuine hatred; he's just naturally a jerk towards a lot of people — and, as he notes in an apology on Penny Arcade, the first time these issues raised their heads he wasn't even aware of many of them. To be fair to him for a moment here, I knew absolutely nothing about transgender people at all prior to this year, either; the subject simply hadn't come up, so it's not at all unreasonable to assume that he hadn't come into contact with this particular group of people before and thus didn't know the "appropriate" or "acceptable" ways in which to talk about them.

There's a degree of common sense required here, of course, which Krahulik didn't always display, particularly as the most recent incident was actually the second time he had run headlong into being perceived as "transphobic", but for him to be immediately labelled a "bigot", a "sexist" and outright insulted is, frankly, a little much. People don't teach you these things. (Well, perhaps they do now; it's a long time since I was at school and took a Humanities lesson.) And as such, when people are confronted with unfamiliar things, sometimes mistakes are made; things are said without thinking; sometimes offence is caused. The appropriate response to someone making a mistake is to point out that they made a mistake and then educate them so they don't do it again in the future.

Key point: both the pointing out of the mistake and the education should be done in a calm, respectful manner that acknowledges ignorance isn't the same as bigotry. If your first response to someone saying something that you believe is offensive is to start swearing at and insulting them, then of course they are going to get defensive and start flinging mud back at you rather than attempting to engage with you — particularly if they don't understand what they did wrong in the first place, however silly that might seem to you as someone more well-informed.

It's a natural response; look at how children respond to being yelled at as opposed to having positive behaviour reinforced, or calm explanations as to why the thing they were doing was inappropriate. These reflex behaviours continue well into adulthood for many of us; no-one likes to feel like they did wrong, so the more aggressively people shout and scream, the more the recipient of the ire will dig their heels in and just escalate the whole situation. In Krahulik's case, this happened previously with the "rape culture/dickwolves" incident a while back — people yelled, he got defensive, discussion was shut down before it could begin — and again with this more recent incident.

There are a number of sad things about this whole situation. Krahulik could have had the opportunity to learn about part of culture he's unfamiliar with, but the immediately aggressive response shut down any hope of rational discussion and education and caused him to get defensive. The aggressive response didn't stop, either; it grew and grew into a seething ball of hatred, with people referring to him and his Penny Arcade partner Jerry Holkins (who had remained very quiet throughout this whole debacle — a sign which some saw as tacit approval of Krahulik's actions) as "dicks" and other, far more spiteful terms. People started calling for boycotts of PAX. One indie developer even publicly pulled out of PAX's indie showcase.

None of this had to happen, and it is not solely Krahulik's fault that it did. He's not blameless at all, no, but I place as much blame for the subsequent fallout squarely at the feet of the people who did the aggressive yelling, the swearing, the insults, the death threats as I do at the feet of Krahulik. This could have been an opportunity for everyone involved to grow; instead, it was just yet another sign that people like nothing more than a good fight rather than actually talking and educating one another. And I worry that serious damage has been done on all sides of this issue; there are no winners here.

The really sad thing, I think, is how much this sort of thing erects barriers between people. Every time I see something like this happening, I feel genuinely afraid to open my mouth for fear of saying something that will make everyone hate me; and that little nagging voice in the back of my head says "you're not allowed to have an opinion on this; you're a privileged white male". I have seen how quickly people can turn on someone for one little thing that they said, and no-one will ever back down or attempt to understand or educate. It's just shout, shout shout. It kills discussion. It kills education. And it achieves the absolute opposite of what many of these "social justice" types are supposedly fighting for; instead of promoting inclusivity and harmony, it sows discord and excludes people. We're better than that.

So everyone, try a little harder to get along and understand one another, please.