2302: By the Power of the Virtues

There's a new-ish trend on social media. And like most new-ish trends on social media, it's not a particularly pleasant one.

Known as "virtue signalling", it essentially involves people making public statements that make it abundantly clear that they hold what is widely regarded to be the "correct" viewpoint on something, be this feminism, homosexuality, Donald Trump, immigration, unisex bathrooms, whether or not we should leave Europe, gun control and whether or not Uncharted 4 deserved more than an 8.8 out of 10.

It's an offshoot of a couple of other social media behaviours that have been happening for a while, most notably Twitter's "dot-reply" practice, which gets around Twitter's usual behaviour of not showing people you follow replying to people you don't follow (because why would you want to "listen in" on a conversation involving someone you don't know?), and the related practice of people complaining at companies on Twitter without putting the company in question's user ID in an @mention at the start of the tweet. "Hey, @amazon, your customer service today was shocking!" — you know, that sort of thing.

Both of these practices — and virtue signalling too, for that matter — are a means of amplifying one's own voice and trying to get noticed. Typically, social media consists of lots of people on a reasonably equal footing all shouting into the void and occasionally having conversations with one another. When you bring in dot-replies, public replies and virtue signalling, however, it becomes less about your actual message and more about public perception of you. When you engage in any of these behaviours, you're trying your very best to get your message heard and, crucially, reshared by as many people as possible. In that way, the word can spread about What A Fine Example of Humanity you are, and you can subsequently reap the social capital rewards from successfully Saying the Right Thing in Front of the Right People.

Taking a public stand on things isn't necessarily a bad thing. But unfortunately, the very nature of social media has a habit of distorting messages beyond recognition, and when combined with such transparent attempts to spread your message as far and wide as possible as what we've just described, the global game of Chinese Whispers kicks into overdrive and your message — which may well have been flawed in the first place, or perhaps just misinterpreted somewhere along the line — gets taken at face value, for better or worse.

And people these days simply do not question the things that are presented to them. This is particularly bad on Facebook, where many people — particularly those less Web-literate — will happily share completely untrue stories without bothering to check the validity of them, and their friends, equally Web-illiterate, will share them further, until they've been around the world and back, with a significant number of people believing the load of old bollocks that some troll from 4chan probably dreamed up in an attempt to see how many idiots he could net.

It happens on Twitter, too, though, and through the media as well. A recent example came via the subreddit for Ubisoft's multiplayer shooter The Division, where a user made up a completely false glitch-based strategy for one of the bosses, and said "cheat" was picked up by numerous high-profile gaming websites without bothering to check whether or not it was legitimate for themselves. (It would have been easy enough to do so, given that the user in question actually posted another thread on Reddit at the same time with a legitimate strategy for the same encounter, admitting that his "glitch" was a complete fabrication.)

And this lack of questioning or critical thinking is poisonous when it's combined with virtue signalling. Opinions that someone made up become accepted as irrefutable fact simply because someone "important" shared them, or lots of people shared them. Take the Ghostbusters reboot trailer, for example — now famous for being the most disliked YouTube video in the site's history. The story runs now that it is the most hated video in existence "because of misogyny" — and there's simply no arguing with that, because so many people have made loud, proud statements about how they're going to give Ghostbusters a chance because they're not misogynist at all, no sirree, and that means that anyone who simply thinks the trailer is shit (it kinda is) gets thrown under the bus with the genuine misogynists and the trolls who enjoy stirring the pot for the hell of it.

Generally speaking, I tend to take the attitude that if you have to shout loudly about what a wonderful person you are, you probably aren't a particularly wonderful person in the first place. So far I'm yet to be proven wrong with this theory.

2263: Fuck This Culture War; Everyone Needs to Rebuild

This is the "earliest" I've ever posted on here, at 12:22AM (edit: now 1:19AM, it's taken an hour to write all this crap), and since I haven't been to bed yet it's technically still "yesterday" so far as the original rules of #oneaday go, but I wanted to address this subject immediately while it was fresh in my mind, so here I go breaking with convention somewhat.

Today, Alison Rapp got fired from Nintendo. If you don't know who Alison Rapp is or why she got fired, I'd urge you not to look into it; it's a complicated, messy situation that everyone involved could have probably handled better — but it also, after a certain point, became a bit of an inevitable outcome to just one of many shitstorms the games industry has already endured in just the first three months of this year.

The matter of Rapp is a symptom of a much larger problem that has been rumbling away for the last few years now: a so-called "culture war" between two somewhat ill-defined sides whose edges have a tendency to blur into one another somewhat. It's a whole world of hypocrisy, kneejerk overreactions, dogpiling and public shaming, and it's made the Internet an altogether far more unpleasant place to be than the "global village" it was once positioned as.

The culture war in question is broader than the field of games, but it's in gaming that it's perhaps most clear to see. Described by commentators via the gross (and erroneous) oversimplification that it is a battle between "GamerGate" and "SJWs", the conflict is primarily between people who claim to be in favour of free speech, against censorship and against public shaming of politically incorrect viewpoints, humour or creative material, and people who claim to be in favour of increased diversity in culture, improving the representation of women, homosexual people, transgender people, people from non-white, non-English-speaking cultures and any number of other minorities you might care to mention.

Fundamentally, both "sides" have good points, and both sides actually also have a lot in common. The "free speech" side are all in favour of diversity — they just don't want it to come at the expense of the ability for traditionally privileged groups to be able to speak their mind as well, which is perhaps a valid concern, given the number of people on the "diversity" side who will explicitly state that they reject the opinions of white men, regardless of how much merit they might have. Conversely, the "diversity" side are also in favour of free speech — that's the core of the diversity they're fighting for, in fact: the ability for everyone, regardless of social, cultural, sexual, gender…al background, to be able to speak their mind, make the creative works they want to make and celebrate them.

Unfortunately, something went wrong somewhere along the line. The origins of the GamerGate controversy amid the tell-all blogpost of relatively unknown indie developer Zoe Quinn's ex-boyfriend — as well as accusations that aspects of her personal life had given her TWINE game Depression Quest rather more favourable coverage than it would have otherwise garnered — gave the "diversity" crowd a considerable amount of what they saw as ammunition to prove that "gamers" — inasmuch as that is a coherent group, which it absolutely 100% isn't — were misogynistic harassers keen to drive women out of gaming, which was something they'd been trying to argue for a couple of years already. "Gamers", meanwhile, hit back, quite rightly resenting the implications that they were a bunch of woman-hating fuckheads who wanted to play nothing but brown guntastic dudebro sims where people say "bitch" a lot.

No-one came out of this looking good. Quinn's name was dragged through the mud — whether it was justifiably so or not, I can't say for sure, though I must admit my few sightings of her on social media had always rubbed me up the wrong way — but at the same time, an entire group of people whose only common factor was a shared hobby that they all loved — and yes, that group includes men, women, straight people, gay people, cis people, trans people, black people, white people, Asian people, Latino people and any other arbitrary denominations you'd care to come up with — came under attack from people who decided that they knew better, and that they knew how the world should behave. And the conflict then proceeded to escalate, and now it's been going on for several years — and yes, this nonsense did start before "GamerGate" ever became a thing… remember the Mass Effect 3 controversy?

There's a lot more to it than all this, but I don't want to get bogged down in details, largely because I've only really casually observed from the sidelines while all this has been going down and can't speak with any great authority on what's been going on in either camp.

What I can talk about, however, is the overwhelmingly negative effect that the last few years has had on gaming culture as a whole, because it fucking sucks. It really does. As someone who loves games, and has done since he was a small boy; as someone who loves talking about games, and writing about games, and telling all his friends about games they've never heard of… it really, really fucking sucks.

This "culture war" we're living is not conducive to social progress, nor is it in any way making the games industry a better place for anyone. Why? Because both sides want it their way and no other way. Compromise is off the table, and opinions are firmly entrenched. GamerGate bad, progressiveness good. Unless you're involved in GamerGate, in which case GamerGate good-but-misunderstood, SJWs bad. Proceed to yelling at one another, making unpleasant attacks on each other and, if you're Graham Linehan, trawling through a young man's Facebook photos to find a picture of him with his mother to ask him if "she would be proud" of how he behaves online, simply because they are on opposing "sides" of this nonsense. (Yes, this really happened.)

There's no nuance in this discussion. No acknowledgement that both sides have good points — the progressives take things too far with their claims of "diversity" inevitably just veering into overcompensating "oppression of the privileged" territory while crying "GamerGate did it!" any time something bad happens; the free speechers are a little too resistant to things outside their comfort zone, consistently refusing to accept games like Gone Home as "real games" because they don't conform to arbitrary guidelines of what is acceptable in the medium — and no attempts to understand one another. Battle lines are drawn. Weapons of choice are snarky comments fired from deep in the trenches of the Internet, escalating to insults and name-calling, and in some cases even to having tangible effects on aspects of people's "real" lives, like their jobs and family.

And no-one will admit that this "culture war" is all a big steaming pile of shit that is just causing culture as a whole to stagnate. All we're achieving is making individual subcultures within the "gamer" umbrella become more and more isolated and insular from one another, when what we should be doing is encouraging cross-pollination and exploration of games from outside your comfort zone.

And make no mistake, no-one is blameless in this. The whiny channer who bitches about "walking simulators" and how they're bullshit is no better than the whiny Kotaku writer who bitches about how Senran Kagura's boobies make him feel uncomfortable. The Redditor who cries "censorship!" over changes to a game's script in localisation is no better than the forum poster who complains to Blizzard that he's upset he has to see a lady's bottom in tight pants. The feminist who claims everyone against her opinions is an "MRA" is no better than the actual MRAs who believe in feminist conspiracies. Get it? Fuck all of this conflict; none of it achieves anything whatsoever except making the people who just want to get on with their lives and enjoy the things they love completely and utterly fucking miserable.

Yes, I am talking about myself here. I have friends on both "sides" of this debacle, and I'm terrified of them interacting with one another, or of any of them believing me to be one "side" or the other for fear of being ostracised. I'm already a bit of a hermit; I don't need to lose friends over something that I really don't want to get involved in. But I am losing friends; there are people I don't feel comfortable talking to online any more because I know that they'd believe my opinions to be "wrong" in comparison to them, and there are people I just don't want to associate with any more because they appear to have turned into dribbling, rabid, irrational psychopaths who simply won't listen to reason.

All I want — and I realise saying this here is just pissing in the wind, but regardless — is for people to accept one another for who they are, and what they like.

No shaming people who enjoy Japanese games for being "paedophiles".

No shaming people who enjoy "walking simulators" for liking "not-games".

No shaming men for enjoying attractive women in their games.

No shaming creative independent developers for using gaming as an interactive medium for creating works of art.

No shaming writers for depicting things that they don't necessarily agree with, but want to show.

In fact, no more shaming, full-stop. No more blanket accusations. No more assumptions. Just acceptance. It doesn't even have to be understanding — I don't expect everyone I know to understand exactly why titles like the Neptunia series and Senran Kagura mean so much to me, so long as they respect that I feel that way, and don't call me and the things I love "skeezy" or "gross" or whatever 12 year old girl's words they're using this week. I certainly don't understand why people love, say, The Witness or Crusader Kings 2, but I'm certainly not about to start shaming the people who do, because I'm glad they have those things that they can enjoy while I have things that I can enjoy.

That's diversity, right there: everyone having something that is "for them". And the only way to make it better is to make more of everything for everyone — and accept that not every individual thing is aimed at every single individual person. And to accept that this is fine. And perhaps even to occasionally take a look at things you wouldn't normally consider just out of curiosity — all in the name of understanding.

Culture becomes richer and more interesting when its smaller subdivisions are able to go off and do their own thing in peace, occasionally crossing boundaries and drawing influences from one another, or at least recognising, contrasting and celebrating the things we do similarly and differently from one another. That's the exact opposite of what we have right now; currently, our smaller subdivisions in culture are erecting 30-foot tall barbed wire fences and firing artillery shells full of shit over the top of them.

So fuck this culture war. Fuck all the arguments I'm seeing on Twitter right now. Fuck the people who think that yelling "GamerGate did it!" or "SJWs did it!" is more important than enjoying this hobby that we all supposedly love so much. I want to go back to a time where anyone can post something about a cool new game they've tried out, and not have to worry about someone, somewhere getting offended or insulting them for it. I want to go back to a time when the press didn't hate its readers, and the readers didn't distrust the press. I want to go back to a time when Japan's weirdness was regarded as something people wanted to explore and find out more about, rather than get skeeved out by. I want to go back to a time when weird, experimental games were cool and exciting rather than "blargh, not another pretentious indie game".

Basically I think I probably want early '00s-era 1up.com back.

But sadly, I'm not sure we're ever going to get days like that back.

Oh well, all I can attempt to do, at least, is attempt to be the change I want to see in the world. Hopefully a little positivity will go a long way.

Now I'm going to bed. Please be a better place in the morning, world.

2181: Coming to a Head

I generally try and steer clear of Internet drama as much as possible, but sometimes it's impossible not to see what's been going on when it's all over a website you use regularly.

Most recently, Twitter has seen some interesting happenings that make it feel like the ongoing culture war between "loudmouthed, self-professed progressives (who aren't actually all that progressive at all)" and "people who just want to be left the fuck alone to talk to their friends about things they enjoy without being shamed for it" has been coming to a head. And it's been kind of fascinating to watch, particularly as the most recent happenings make one wonder what role — if any — sites that provide a means of communication, such as Twitter, have in these sort of sociopolitical debates.

The most recent drama surrounds one Milo "Nero" Yiannopoulous, a writer for the conservative/right-wing news site Breitbart. Nero is, to put it mildly, something of a controversial, divisive figure: he's brash, opinionated, flamboyantly homosexual and vehemently against the rise of "third wave" feminism — that particular ideological offshoot that we've seen in the last few years that seemingly concerns itself more with scoring "victim points" than actually promoting any sort of societal change for the better. At the same time, he's also someone who stands up for what he believes in, protective of people and groups he cares for and willing to go against the grain when he believes that the "grain" is going in the wrong direction.

I find him quite amusing to read at times. I don't follow him on Twitter, but in my occasional (non-participatory) explorations of what GamerGate subreddit KotakuInAction is up to, I tend to keep abreast of what he's been up to, and occasionally feel inclined to read some of the things he's posted on Breitbart. I don't agree with everything — many things, if I'm honest — that he says, but I do agree with some others. I find his writing entertaining to read, though, and challenging to my preconceived notions about particular issues. His writing makes me think, in other words, and contemplate how I feel about something, whether or not it's the same as what he thinks about the thing in question — and that's something that journalists should aspire to, in my opinion, wherever they are positioned on the overall political spectrum.

Anyway. The issue is with Nero's behaviour on Twitter, and with his subsequent treatment. He frequently comes under fire for "harassing" people himself, and for "inciting harassment" by drawing attention to things that people have said by using Twitter's built-in "quote and comment" functionality that they added to Retweets a while back. So strong is the backlash against him that a couple of days ago, his "verified" checkmark was removed from his Twitter account, seemingly as a punishment for the way he had behaved.

Thing is, the "verified" checkmark is not supposed to be a mark of good behaviour or anything; all it's supposed to be is an indicator that yes, this particular Twitter account is indeed the person or company that it claims to be. And Nero is Nero, no doubt about that. Taking it away for the way he has behaved on Twitter — whether or not you feel that was justified — is, frankly, insane, because it doesn't stop him being the person he is.

Naturally, as these things tend to go, the Internet reacted immediately, with a wide variety of Twitter accounts immediately rebranding themselves as "Milo Yiannopoulous" and adopting his avatar as their profile picture, making the timeline an occasionally extremely confusing place to navigate. Alongside this, the hashtag #JeSuisMilo — a reference to the #JeSuisCharlie hashtag movement from around the time the offices of French satirical newspaper Charlie Hebdo were attacked in Paris last year — was launched in an attempt to show solidarity with Nero and disapproval for Twitter's peculiar (and, as of the time of writing, unexplained) actions.

Various people, including writer and former Conservative MP Louise Mensch, did some digging and discovered the Twitter account of Michael Margolis, aka @yipe, the "engineering manager" at Twitter itself. Examining Margolis' retweets, likes and replies to people made it look to some like there were some conflicts of interest going on, with many people alleging that Margolis was inappropriately using his position at Twitter to do favours for "progressive" types — such as reporting Nero through means other than the usual channels.

All this is hearsay and conjecture, so far as I can make out, but it raises some interesting questions, for sure. Twitter is intended to be an open, free communication platform for everyone to use. It's not supposed to be moderated or policed — with the sheer number of users and messages that are exchanged every day, it's simply impossible to do so. Instead, Twitter operates on the (arguably flawed) assumption that, much like society, people will naturally peel off into their own groups and interact with one another, with any cross-cultural clashes able to be resolved through use of the mute and block functions — or, in extreme cases, through Twitter's formal reporting processes.

I have some experience with Twitter's formal reporting procedures. Some of you may recall a couple of years back I suffered a campaign of targeted harassment from a notorious group of Internet trolls known as the GNAA. At the time, this group were targeting people who were fans of the My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic TV show, and since I'd recently discovered this, I had the word "Brony" (the term for an adult-age fan of the show) in my Twitter profile bio. This, it seems, was an invitation for the group in question to start accusing me of being a paedophile, even going so far as to look up the WHOIS information of websites I'd linked to from my Twitter profile or this site, then phoning up the owners of said websites (which, in this case, were the owner of Games are Evil, a site I was running at the time, and my brother) and repeating said vile accusations.

It was an extremely unpleasant, scary experience, not so much because of the torrent of abusive tweets coming my way — those were easy enough to ignore and block using Twitter's basic tools — but because it was spilling over into the real world like this. Consequently, rather than simply shrugging the situation off, I reported it to Twitter and to my local police station. The latter were unable to do much about it — I suspected as much, but I thought it was worth doing anyway — and the former were simply useless, claiming that they were unable to intervene in this situation because it amounted to a "disagreement" rather than "harassment" by their definition.

In other words, under Twitter's definitions, you have to be receiving some pretty damn vile harassment before their formal reporting procedures will actually do anything — or, at least, this was the case back in 2013, anyway. For everything else, you have to just deal with it, or leave the site altogether — which I did for a while, but came back after I felt worse about being alone and isolated than I did about being targeted by trolls.

In a way, I understand the way Twitter reacted the way they did to my situation. I wasn't directly in danger or anything, and in retrospect the behaviour of the trolls was little more than the sort of casual abuse-hurling you'd get in the schoolyard. This isn't defending it by any means, of course — I had certainly done nothing to deserve such treatment, and I was genuinely very afraid while it was all going on — but in the grand scheme of things, it perhaps was barely a blip on the radar of Bad Shit happening in the world. By acting upon it, Twitter would be setting a public precedent, and this would then have to be followed up on in future to ensure that their policies were being enforced in an even-handed and fair manner — and I got the distinct impression that Twitter support felt that the whole thing was rather more trouble than it was worth.

This little digression is an explanation of the fact that Twitter is generally very hesitant to intervene in situations where people "disagree" with one another by their definition — and their definition of "disagreeing", at least as it stood in 2013, was rather, shall we say, lenient. So for a Twitter employee to put across the impression of giving preferential treatment towards particular individuals is not a particular fair and even-handed way to approach the situation. Moreover, Nero's behaviour in the instances where he was accused of "inciting harassment" wasn't anything out of the ordinary — he was simply using Twitter's own tools (in this case, the "Quote Tweet" function) to highlight some things he wanted to discuss or bring to the attention of his audience.

Several interesting questions are raised as a result of this debacle, however. The first is whether or not popular Twitter users such as Nero should be held responsible or accountable for the actions of their followers when they do something to make a conversation or comment public. Twitter does have tools to minimise contact with people you haven't specifically authorised to talk to you — most notably the ability to make your account private, locking it down to everyone except those who follow you — but at its core it's designed to be a means of public discourse: the world's biggest cocktail party, where anyone and everyone is free to wander around, listen in on what everyone is saying and contribute their own thoughts and feelings to a conversation, regardless of whether or not they know the existing participants.

In this instance, Nero was simply using Twitter as intended, so is it his fault if some followers took it upon themselves to be unpleasant little scrotes towards the person he quotes (whom, it has to be said, appears to be a fairly unpleasant little scrote herself — not that this justifies any sort of abuse)? I certainly don't have an easy answer to that.

The second question raised by all this — particularly Margolis' alleged involvement, which is yet to be conclusively proven — is whether or not social media companies as a whole or their employees have any sort of obligation to make decisions about users based on political or ideological viewpoints. The argument in this instance is whether or not the removal of Nero's verified status — his "punishment" — is justified on the grounds that he disagrees (there's that word again) with the views of third-wave feminism. Or, to take it as a broader picture, whether or not any user should be punished in any way for expressing an opinion that differs from the accepted "norm", or which some claim to find "offensive", or which is regarded as "unacceptable" in some way.

You get into dangerous territory with that last section. Twitter is a private company, however, so it is, of course, free to police its platform however it pleases, and if it wants to become some sort of "safe space" where third-wave feminists and their white knight "allies" can happily skip through fields of flowers (not white ones, though, because white people ruin fucking everything, apparently) then that is the company's decision entirely. Since it has always sold itself as a means of free expression and communication for people all over the world, however, there's an argument that we are taking a few tentative steps into a somewhat Orwellian area — though it is also worth noting that should Twitter actually decide to go down this route wholeheartedly, the market will be flung wide open for a new, alternative means of communication and expression for people who are no longer welcome under the New Tweet Order.

Personally speaking, I would rather Twitter remain completely apolitical, and continue to act as a means of free communication for groups all over the world covering a wide variety of viewpoints and ideologies, many of which would clash with one another if they came into direct contact. It's been a valuable tool in times of crisis, such as during the massacres in Paris, the assaults in Cologne over the New Year period, and during the riots in Egypt a while back. More than that, though, it's brought people together who may never otherwise have had the chance to talk to one another. It's allowed friendships and even relationships to blossom, and it's allowed differing viewpoints the chance to interact and attempt to understand one another. It's been inestimably valuable from that perspective, and for it to start pushing one particular political viewpoint or ideology as somehow "superior" or "correct" would go against this openness that has been its most key feature ever since day one.

More than that, though, regardless of whether or not you think Nero is a twat or a genius, removing his verified status as a "punishment" is just plain stupid. What kind of message, exactly, is that supposed to send? "You said the wrong thing, so you are no longer you?" What utter nonsense.

Perhaps this is why I don't run a huge, successful social media enterprise. Or perhaps the rest of the world really has gone completely and utterly mental.

2178: Some Love for Marvelous Europe

I received a package from Marvelous Europe today, containing five adorable chibi Senran Kagura figurines depicting Homura's Crimson Squad at play (or, in Hikage's case, as close to "play" as she could probably figure out). I was the lucky recipient of these figures because I retweeted or favourited something they posted on Twitter a short while ago, and I was fortunate enough to be selected as a "winner" of one of the prizes that was up for grabs at the time.

To be honest, I'd completely forgotten about it, since "RT to win!" Twitter posts are ten-a-penny, and also I very rarely win anything that involves the luck of the draw. I was delighted that Marvelous made good on their original offer, though, since I really like the figures a lot, even if they were a bit fiddly to put together. (There's a teeny-tiny accessory for Yomi that I have no idea where to put, for example.)

This pleasant little interlude got me thinking about Marvelous Europe and how they appeared out of nowhere a little while back. Previously, games such as Senran Kagura made it over to Europe via a convoluted string of people and companies — Senran Kagura Burst, for example, was localised by XSEED and then brought to Europe by, if I remember correctly, PQube Games. Senran Kagura Burst actually got a physical release in Europe through this convoluted process, however, which made Americans super-salty because it only got a digital eShop release over there. They got their revenge with Vita follow-up Senran Kagura Shinovi Versus, though, since this was digital-only in Europe but had a special edition physical version in the states. Vita games are region-free, though, so fans such as myself simply imported.

Anyway, I recall being particularly aware of Marvelous Europe once Senran Kagura 2: Deep Crimson was first announced for Western release. Preorders for some ambitious-looking limited editions went up early, and I decided what the hell, I'll jump in. After all, the limited editions put out by Idea Factory International — a very similar operation, bringing niche Japanese games to the West and giving them plenty of love and attention — had proven themselves to be rather lovely, so I had a good feeling about Marvelous Europe's offerings.

So much so, in fact, that I also preordered both Corpse Party: Book of Shadows and Senran Kagura Estival Versus when they became available. Estival Versus is yet to be released, but both the Senran Kagura 2 and Corpse Party special editions were gorgeous, and both are releases I'm very happy to have in my collection.

The main reason I feel Marvelous Europe sets a great example for other publishers is that they clearly know their audience well. Their Twitter account is very "human", often sharing irreverent, dry humour — particularly when the prudes of the games journalism business start whingeing about boobs, as they are so often wont to do these days — and interacting with fans rather than acting purely as a news outlet. Their positive attitude towards the games they release, their pride in their work and their total lack of shame in bringing controversial titles to an eager Western audience means that I'm more than happy to keep supporting them for as long as they keep releasing quality games for me to enjoy.

Keep it up, Marvelous Europe. You're doing a marvellous job.

2014: Making Connections

Although I'm not pretending to have any real understanding of social interactions in general — in fact, as I often mention, I go through life feeling like I really do't know what to do in a lot of "everyday" social situations — I find the way little communities and cliques develop to be fascinating, both to observe from the outside, and to be a part of from within.

I have a few examples in mind. First, and most prominent, is Twitter. I've drifted from group to group a bit since I originally joined Twitter a number of years back. Originally, my use of Twitter was primarily to have a means of talking to my online friends with whom I used to interact on 1up.com. After "The Great Exodus", when 1up's specialised forums were mashed together into a NeoGAF-style monstrosity of just "Games" and "Not Games", a significant proportion of the community left the site's forums, and many of them found themselves on Twitter. Over time, people changed, moved and became involved in different things. Some gave up on Twitter altogether; others started using it for professional purposes; others still "rebranded" themselves.

I fell somewhat into the latter category. After suffering a fairly serious instance of doxxing and harassment back in 2013 — see, it's not just women it happens to, contrary to what the media would have you believe — I left Twitter, initially intending not to return, but after realising what a pile of crap Facebook is for actually interacting with people in a meaningful manner, I returned. After realising that the interminable social justice yelling on Twitter was setting off my depression and anxiety, I left again. This time when I came back (they always come back) I decided to "reinvent" myself a bit, and follow fewer of the people I felt I "should" be following, and instead focused on people who posted things I found interesting or enjoyable to interact with. Consequently, these days I find myself on the fringes of "anitwitter", a subculture on the social network that discusses, posts screencaps and generally enthuses about anime and games. I, as you might expect, fit right in.

Elsewhere on the Internet, the Discord server I mentioned the other day (which, dear reader, you're still welcome to come and join) has been developing slowly but surely, but it's our Final Fantasy XIV Free Company server that is perhaps the more interesting example. Taking cues from the in-game friend who introduced me to Discord in the first place, I added an "NSFW" (Not Safe for Work) channel to the server. It immediately became the most active channel in the place, though initially people weren't quite sure what to post in there, i.e. whether or not it was okay to post filth. (It was, though someone stumbled accidentally into it and complained a bit at being confronted with a wall of hentai, so we've since made it invite-only — community management at work!)

What's interesting about the NSFW channel is that the usual boundaries of "politeness" that are up when interacting with other people online in real time — in my experience, anyway; I tend not to hang around with the sort of people who hurl insults and abuse at one another — are nowhere to be seen. I don't mean that people are rude to one another; quite the opposite, in fact. The NSFW channel is a place where everyone can be open and honest about the things that they like, and where no-one judges one another for the things they talk about and post. (Or, if they do, they keep that to themselves.) It's pretty refreshing and liberating, actually, and makes it abundantly clear that there should probably be more places for people — particularly, it has to be said, men — to be able to talk about things like sex, fetishes and all that sort of thing without fear of judgement or anything like that. I shan't go into any further details than that, but suffice to say we're all having a jolly old time in there.

Anyway, yeah. Online communities. Just as interesting as real communities, I think you'll agree…

1994: The Beginner's Guide to Twitter

Longtime supporter of this blog and regular commenter Jud joined Twitter recently, and seems to be at a bit of a loss as to what to do with it. I remember feeling much the same way when I first joined the site; it was quite some time before I got a feel for what it was all about and how it worked. So with that in mind, today's entry is dedicated to Jud and anyone else who doesn't understand what Twitter is, how it works and how to use it.

What is Twitter?

Twitter always used to position itself as a "microblogging" platform; a means for people to express themselves in deliberately short snippets of text: no more than 140 characters. Over time, it's evolved, and can now be used for a lot of different things: as a means of staying up-to-date on topics that interest you; as a means of socialising with people who share your interests; as a means of staying in touch with friends; and as a means of yelling abuse at random strangers on the Internet.

The most important thing about Twitter is that it is a public means of communication. That means that anything you put on Twitter can be read by anyone on the Internet, and they don't necessarily have to have a Twitter account to do so. There is the option to make your account "private" — which means only people who are already following you or people you specifically grant the ability to follow you after they request it can see your tweets — but using that kind of misses part of the appeal of the site, which is coming into contact with people you may not have otherwise "met".

The best way of thinking of Twitter in metaphorical terms is that it's a bit like being at a party, but a rather strange party where everyone present is constantly making speeches in the hope that someone will listen to them. Someone who follows you is someone who is listening to your speech; your tweets themselves make up the speech. This is the simplest possible use of Twitter; use it to express short snippets of thoughts and opinions into the world, and hope that someone, somewhere finds it interesting.

Key terms

Timeline: the main screen you see on Twitter, consisting of all the tweets from people you are following. The most recent tweets are at the top, and as you scroll down the page you'll see older and older tweets. The screen will keep scrolling forever in most circumstances, so don't try and reach the bottom, otherwise you'll be there all day.
Tweet: A single 140-character public message that may or may not include mentions.
Mention: A tweet that includes another user's username.
Direct Message: A private message between two or more Twitter users.
Profile: An individual user's Twitter page that shows just their tweets along with some brief biographical information they may have chosen to share. You can access any user's profile by going to http://twitter.com/username, replacing username with the username of the user whose profile you would like to see. For example, to see my Twitter profile, you'd visit http://twitter.com/AstralFireIII.
Avatar: (also "avi") The small image a user uses to represent themselves on Twitter. The default avatar is an egg on a coloured background. Since a lot of people habitually ignore "egg avatars" as they're a common sign of spammers, it's best to put some form of personalised image here as soon as possible; it doesn't have to be a picture of yourself.
Banner: The large image that appears at the top of your profile.
Follower: Someone who has chosen to follow you and have your tweets appear in their timeline.
Mute: An option that allows you to stop seeing tweets from people or that contain particular terms without outright blocking them.
Block: An option that prevents another user from interacting with you or seeing your tweets.
Retweet: An option that allows you to reshare someone's tweet onto your follower's timelines (optionally with a comment of your own), even if they aren't following the person you retweet.
Livetweet: A slang terms used to describe someone using Twitter to provide "live" updates on a situation that is unfolding. Most commonly used during press conferences or big news events where things can be announced, revealed or happen dramatically and quickly.

How do I interact with people?

There are several ways you can do this:

Mention: Also known as "@replies", mentioning someone involves including the "at" ("@") sign followed immediately by someone's username somewhere in your tweet. If you do this, the recipient will receive a notification that you have mentioned them.
Important to note about mentions is the fact that if you put the @username at the beginning of the tweet, only people who are following the recipient of your mention will see your mention in their timeline. If you want your reply to be more "public" and visible to everyone, even if they're not the recipient, you can either put the @username elswhere in the tweet (at the end is common) or put something before the initial @username such as a full stop. The latter practice is often known as "dot-replying" and is considered bad form by some people.

In our "party" context from earlier, this is like replying to someone's public speech and having a public discussion that other people can overhear.
Subtweet: I include this here only because people complain about it all the time. Subtweeting is a made-up word used to describe passive-aggressive tweets that don't directly mention someone, but which are clearly and obviously about a particular person. While it's delightfully easy to be passive-aggressive on Twitter, subtweeting is considered the height of bad form, so avoid it.
In our "party" context, this is like making pointed comments about someone without actually mentioning them or talking directly to them. ("Someone should have looked in the mirror before coming out tonight!)
Direct Message: Also known as a "DM", a Direct Message is what you use if you want a private conversation with one or more other Twitter users. Direct Messages do not appear on your respective timelines, and instead appear in the Messages tab. To send a Direct Message to someone, either go to a user's profile or the Messages tab.
In our "party" context, this is like dragging someone off to the bathroom (or room of your choice) for a private conversation.
Favourite: Clicking the "star" icon (it sometimes appears as a "heart" on some Twitter apps) under a tweet has a similar effect to the "like" button on Facebook. It's an interaction that basically says "I like this" or "I want to keep track of this for later". You can revisit your favourites from your own profile page, or look at other people's favourites from theirs. Favourites are public!
In our "party" context, this is like nodding approvingly at something someone has said. Alternatively, some people use it like making a note of something someone said to revisit later.
Retweet: If you see a tweet you particularly like, agree with or just want to share for one reason or another, you can retweet it. This means it will appear in all your followers' timelines, even if they don't follow the person you retweeted. You can optionally add a comment to a retweet if you want to add your own thoughts on it.
In our "party" context, this is like repeating something someone said to you earlier to someone else.
Hashtags: Adding the hash sign ("#") to a word (or cluster of words with no spaces) turns it into a hashtag, which your followers (and you!) are then able to click on to see other people talking about the same thing. This is most commonly used by marketers or communities who want to keep track of discussion on a given topic easily without having to follow hundreds of individual users. Some hashtags become mini-communities in their own right.
In our "party" context, this is like all the jocks clustering in one corner and talking among themselves, all the nerds in another corner talking among themselves, and all the Game of Thrones fans sitting in another corner giving their own play-by-play commentaries of the episode that is currently on the television.

What else can I do on Twitter?

Besides following people and interacting with them via the means listed above, you can also group people (including those you aren't following) into Lists, each of which then gets its own individual timeline — this is useful for collecting together things that you might want to keep track of, but don't want to clutter your main timeline with.

There's also a powerful search function that lets you look for users, hashtags, topics and even specific things people have said.

What should be the first things I do on Twitter?

Update your profile. Make sure that you can be found (assuming you want to be found!) by including your name (or a known pseudonym you use) and some biographical information, optionally including your location.
Add an avatar. Egg avatars are habitually ignored, so put a new picture in as soon as possible. Go to your profile and hit the Edit button and it's simple to do.
Follow some people. Twitter is made for socialising, so follow some people you find interesting or want to stay in touch with. Don't feel obliged to follow all the people they follow, because you may have different interests. Instead, over time, gradually curate your following list until your timeline looks the way you want it to.
Interact with people. People won't follow you back unless you give them a reason to. Interact with them, talk with them, engage with the things they're saying.
Try not to get into any fights. Twitter's brevity is a blessing and a curse; the 140-character limit protects against waffling somewhat (though many people get around this by simply chaining long strings of tweets together by replying to themselves) but this also means that, on occasion, certain nuances can be lost. Discussions on contentious subjects can escalate quickly!
Gratuitous self-promotion. Twitter is used by a lot of people as an important means of getting their work in front of as many people as possible. Don't be afraid to link to things you've written or otherwise produced that you particularly want people to take a look at.
Enjoy! Twitter can and should be fun and useful. If it's not, though, don't worry! Some people simply don't get along with it as a means of communication and happily go about their lives without it. Follow the tips above, though, and you should be getting the most out of it in no time.

1971: don't bully!!

Here's a curious paradox for you: how much of the supposed epidemic of "bullying" and "harassment" going on on the Internet these days is down to people bringing it upon themselves?

This isn't a question of "victim blaming", as the buzzword has it, but it's an actual phenomenon that I've observed — and, in my younger days, even engaged in myself. I can't explain why I did such a thing, but I know I did it, I know that I was aware I was doing it even at the time, and yet I simply couldn't stop myself.

I suffered dreadfully at the hands of bullies in primary school. I'm not sure what it was about me — my hair, my accent, the fact my ears appeared quite large in comparison to my head (I've since "grown into" them, I think) or some combination of all of the above and a few other things besides — but I was a regular target for some of the schools more notorious troublemakers. And it wasn't to do with my friendship group, either, as on a number of occasions my supposed "friends" actually sided against me in an attempt to win favour points with the bullies (who, inevitably, were the "cool" kids). Perhaps it was self-preservation, perhaps they'd really had enough of me; either way, it was a betrayal, and it hurt.

But I know that I was partly to blame for some of the incidents that happened. I recall deliberately goading the bullies on more than one occasion — swearing at them, insulting them, trying to attack them — and inevitably being knocked to the ground, winded and crying. The teachers on duty would do their usual "come over and look concerned" bit, but then nothing would ever happen to the people who had assaulted me. And so the cycle would repeat, over and over again.

Perhaps it was an attempt to claw my own little bit of "power" on the playground, because I was very much at the bottom of the food chain. Perhaps it was an attempt to let out my frustration about what I now recognise as social anxiety and difficulty interacting with some people. Perhaps I was just a little cunt. I honestly don't know the reason. But what I do know is that despite the fact I was the "victim", I was also genuinely to blame for a goodly proportion of those incidents — not all of them, mind, but a fair few of them.

And I'm reminded of this as I watch interactions on social media today. Mr Brandon Orselli, the chap who runs NicheGamer, an independent games site that I've become quite fond of, regularly has to fend off people who start attacking him, his work and his staff without any sort of provocation. Their reasoning? His site has, at times, been sympathetic to the consumer revolt known as "GamerGate", which has now been raging for some ten months and, despite a considerable amount of evidence to the contrary, is still regarded as a "hate group" of "misogynists".

Now, I'm not here to talk about GamerGate and whether or not it's right (largely because I know it's a topic of discussion that tends to become irrational very quickly — both "sides" are very much at fault in this regard, and frankly I want nothing to do with the perpetual arguments and finger-pointing) but one glance at the front page of NicheGamer will tell you that it's absolutely not any sort of GamerGate propaganda rag. Rather, it's an up-and-coming independent site with a clear focus, a staff that is obviously passionate about their work — including some highly knowledgeable specialist writers — and an editor-in-chief who is not afraid to stand up for himself, his work and his site.

Orselli does admittedly, at times, come across as a little arrogant on social media — but you know what? I understand the pride he takes in his work, and the pleasure he feels when things go well for his site. And I very much respect his choice to take the bull by the horns and engage these "critics" in an attempt at conversation even as they are, at times, spreading information that simply isn't true.

Why am I reminded of my own playground experiences? Well, the sort of people who are attacking Orselli and his staff remind me of the young me. They poke and they poke and they poke and they goad and they goad and they goad… and then they call foul (or, more accurately, "harassment") when the person they've been poking and goading bites back. (It has to be said, mind you, that it's not quite the same situation: Orselli is not a "bully", has shown admirable self-restraint and civility in these interactions, and has been a lot more calm and collected about them than I probably would be!) In other words, observing from the outside and recognising this behaviour as something I once did (as a child!) makes it seem very much like those attacking Orselli, his site and others like them are specifically going out and looking for trouble so they can further their "harassment" narrative.

Certainly nothing I've seen of NicheGamer's output — and since I've pretty much stopped following big games sites as they don't cover many of the games I'm interested in these days, it's one of the few sites I do check in on semi-regularly — warrants the sort of unpleasantness I've seen hurled at Orselli and his team on a seemingly daily basis, whatever your feelings on GamerGate (which, as previously noted, is not the same thing as NicheGamer). If anything, NicheGamer should be applauded for trying something different in a world of identikit big magazine-style or blog-type games sites, and catering to a specific audience rather than casting a very wide but very shallow net.

But anyway. It hopefully goes without saying that this isn't any attempt to diminish any instances of genuine harassment that actually goes on on social media — after all, I've dealt with it myself, so I know how shitty it is. But this sort of behaviour — deliberate provocation — just rubs me up the wrong way, particularly as I've suffered at the hands of bullies many times over the years, both by bringing it on myself and through no fault of my own. So in the words of Twitter's favourite anti-bully ranger:

https://twitter.com/antibullyranger/status/609751052125016064

Or, to put it another way, don't be a cunt.

1883: Social Justice, Public Shaming and Why I Want My Friends Back

I'm probably going to upset a few people with this post, but this is something that has been festering inside me for quite some time; something that I need to release by talking about it. I hope doing so will help me feel a little better, as well as make the people who care about me aware of the way certain increasingly prevalent attitudes in popular culture make me — and, I'm sure, others like me — feel.

I'll kick off with an immediately contentious statement: I completely understand why the term "social justice warrior" is used as a pejorative.

I will immediately qualify this by saying that I do not think the concept of social justice is unimportant, nor that it is something that should be swept under the carpet and ignored. There are still problems with attitudes towards marginalised groups in society. There are still groups out there whose sole reason for existence is an irrational, burning hatred of certain people. There are subsets of passionate fans in all interest groups — be it video games, sports, movies, books, anything — who do not have a positive influence on the community as a whole.

However, I believe that for the most part, human beings are fundamentally decent people. I've met my share of assholes, sure, and seen evidence of people being mistreated, insulted and even threatened online — although, on that note, I will also say that we're collectively a little hasty to jump to the descriptor "death threat" when it isn't always particularly accurate. But I've also met enough decent people in my time in this world and on the Internet to find it difficult to believe that the world is the seething morass of hatred and prejudice that the most passionate advocates of social justice — the aforementioned "social justice warriors" — believe it is.

Let me clarify my earlier statement. The term "social justice warrior", as I see it — and as many others see it, too — does not simply apply to anyone who believes in social justice, otherwise there would be no need for it; it would simply be a means of describing pretty much everyone who isn't an asshole. Rather, it describes, as noted above, a particularly passionate and outspoken advocate for social justice — and someone who is not above using particularly unpleasant tactics to try and get their point across. Tactics like public shaming; insulting; "othering"; discrimination; ignoring opinions based on socioeconomic, ethnic, gender or sexuality groups; dogpiling… the list goes on, and, you'll notice, these are all things that anyone who truly stands for social justice should really be against the use of, regardless of who they're aimed at. A "social justice warrior" would discount my opinion on all this, for example, because I'm a white, straight, heterosexual, cissexual male: the very definition of the concept of "male privilege" that many of them cling to so very desperately.

Why is this a problem, though? It's easy enough to ignore and filter out other bile-spewing groups based on hatred — when was the last time you accidentally stumbled across neo-Nazi ravings without deliberately going looking for them, for example? — so why not just tune out these people? Well, the answer to that is simple: unlike other hate-spewing groups, these loudmouths are increasingly infiltrating mainstream popular culture having positioned their approach as being "correct" from a moral perspective. My experience of them has largely been in the video games sector, but from what I understand, they've had a fair crack at numerous other communities over the last few years, too.

Let me explain why they bother me so much, and hopefully, my dislike of their tactics will become a little clearer.

A few years back, a games journo friend of mine — Jeff Grubb of GamesBeat — wrote a news story. I forget the exact details of the story (and can't seem to find the original since GamesBeat's numerous refreshes over the last few years), but it involved, as I recall, Twisted Metal creator David Jaffe making some contentious statements that involved the hypothetical punching of a woman in the face. Jaffe wasn't advocating for violence against women, of course; doing something like that directly would be tantamount to career suicide; if I remember correctly, the context was something to do with playing multiplayer games and reactions to winning and losing. The details of the story itself are somewhat unimportant, anyway; what I'm really concerned with here is the reaction to it.

Jeff wrote the piece on Jaffe's statements from a factual perspective — as a reporter, without editorialising. Different publications approach this sort of thing in different ways: more blog-style sites like Kotaku have no problem with their authors saying exactly what they think about a particular issue, whereas GamesBeat's parent site VentureBeat is more of a business-centric publication that is less concerned with drama and more with simply reporting what has been going on.

Because Jeff didn't condemn Jaffe's statements in the article, however, he attracted the ire of an early incarnation of the "social justice warriors". The situation became worse as he attempted to defend himself on Twitter; as time passed, more and more people, including high-profile games journalists with large followings, started attacking him — rather than Jaffe, who arguably should have been the subject of their ire, though even that's debatable, given what I recall of the context surrounding his comments — and publicly shaming him, denouncing him as an "example of white male privilege" and effectively setting hordes of followers on him. I became seriously worried for his safety and wellbeing while this was going on.

This wasn't an isolated incident, either. Numerous times over the last few years we've seen outspoken members of the industry with social justice leanings adopt the tactic of publicly shaming and bullying, even going so far as to threaten people with ending their career. Most recently, we've seen Polygon's Ben Kuchera attacking a member of EA's customer engagement team over the latter's concern over community-made Twitter "blacklists"; in previous months we've seen the widely celebrated writer Leigh Alexander threatening to end people's careers, feminist critic Mattie Brice throwing a hissy fit when someone called her out on a sexist joke and all manner of other atrocious behaviour. It simply isn't acceptable.

All this isn't to say that these people can't voice their concerns. What I do find myself violently disliking about this culture of public shaming that has been growing over the last few years, however, is that there's little to no "right of reply" in most cases. Once someone is branded as a misogynist, sexist, transphobe, racist or whatever by these self-appointed crusaders of morality, there's no recovery from it. They have no opportunity to say "well, hang on a minute, here's why you're not quite right there…" and no opportunity to criticise the arguments being levelled against them. More often than not, critics of Kuchera, Alexander et al are swiftly blocked, silenced and/or mocked, simply because the "social justice warrior" position has been successfully positioned as the "correct" attitude. The same thing happens when anyone attempts to start a conversation surrounding feminist critic Anita Sarkeesian's Tropes vs Women video series; while she does attract plenty of hate-filled bile — and that, let's be clear, is always unacceptable — she and her team appear unwilling to engage with or discuss legitimate criticisms of her work, and often post deliberately provocative statements seemingly with the sole intention of drawing the trolls out to point and laugh at them.

Now, I've been standing on the sidelines throughout all of this. I have, thankfully, never been attacked by these people, even when I was working in the mainstream games press on GamePro and USgamer, even when I was writing about notoriously provocative and controversial games such as Senran Kagura and other titles from Japan. Perhaps I was just too small fry for industry "megaphones" (as Alexander calls herself) to bother with, and I'm not complaining; the fact I made a point of remaining positive while acknowledging these titles weren't for everyone helped me build up a decent audience who appreciated the work I did, particularly as it was in stark contrast to the majority of other sites out there.

So why does all this bother me so much? Well, because it's deeply, deeply frustrating, and because the culture of fear that these people are perpetuating online makes me very nervous about speaking on certain topics for fear of being ostracised. More important than that, however, is the feeling that it's driven a wedge between me and a number of friends whom I no longer feel particularly comfortable talking to because I know they've drifted more towards the social justice side of the fence — or, in some cases, become outright zealots. I miss those friends greatly, and it makes me extremely sad that I can't talk to them any more simply because I don't share their ideological viewpoint — or, rather, I do, but I fundamentally disagree with the methods through which they go about expressing that viewpoint.

What should people do instead? Simple. Champion the things that you're fond of and believe in, without putting down other people for what they enjoy. Diversity isn't just about creating experiences that "everyone" can enjoy, though that's part of it. Diversity is also about creating experiences that appeal to specific audiences. There's nothing wrong with that; in fact, it makes for more interesting, more focused pieces of entertainment that feel personal and relatable. Cater to men, women, heterosexual people, homosexual people, cissexual people, transgender or transsexual people, white people, black people, Asian people, anyone you like. Accept that some things are not "for" you — though that doesn't need to stop you from finding enjoyment in them, as the number of otome games I've enjoyed over the last few years will attest — and celebrate the things that are. If you believe that there aren't enough works catering to the groups you consider yourself to fall into, throw your support behind those that do or even make your own. Just, for God's sake, don't ever position yourself as The One Correct Attitude and point the finger of shame at anyone who doesn't fall within your own specific worldview, because that's where the majority of this nonsense is coming from.

I'm not a misogynist. I'm not a sexist. I'm not a racist. I'm not a transphobe. I'm not even an anti-feminist or a men's rights advocate. I just want these "social justice warriors" to understand that what they are doing is not, in fact, championing diversity; it's stifling conversation and creating a culture of mistrust between developers, players and press — and between friends.

I hate it. And I wish it would go away. And I want my friends back.

1847: Your TV Is Not Trying to Kill You

So another outlandish "privacy scandal" looked set to erupt on Twitter earlier. For the benefit of anyone who might be considering sharing anything regarding Samsung Smart TVs sending your personal information to third parties, allow me to clarify a few things.

Samsung Smart TVs have a voice recognition feature. I know this because I have one. (I also never use it, because voice recognition is, for the most part, stupid and pointless when you have a remote control right there. Assuming you have hands, it is pretty much always just as quick to use the remote as it is to remember exactly how you're supposed to phrase a voice command.)

Anyway. The way this voice control works is very simple. You press a button on the "special" remote, not the "normal" one, and the microphone in the remote starts picking up your voice. When you've finished speaking, it sends what you said over the Internet to a speech recognition service (that more than likely converts the speech into computer-friendly text for more accurate processing) and then your TV receives an instruction based on what you said. The TV itself isn't doing any real processing; that all happens remotely, and the TV simply receives the instruction to do something based on what the speech recognition service thinks you said.

Astute iPhone-owning readers will know that this is exactly how Siri on Apple devices works — it's why you can't use Siri when you don't have an Internet connection, even to access information stored locally on your phone such as your address book and suchlike.

The reason these services work like this is to take some of the processing workload off the phone/TV/other device with voice recognition. It's not an ideal solution, but it does mean that the devices in question can be less expensive because they don't need hefty processing power or software to recognise voices pre-installed on them. One day we may have devices that can recognise our voices accurately without requiring an Internet connection — although chances are by the time we've perfected that, the Internet will be "everywhere", rather than just in Wi-Fi hotspots and mobile coverage areas — but until then, this is how voice recognition tends to work.

As such, a necessary part of the entire process involves sending a recording of what you said to the third-party speech recognition service. This means that if you press the microphone button on your Smart TV remote and then decide that the appropriate thing to say at that moment would be "My credit card number is…", a recording of you saying your credit card number will be sent to this speech recognition service. Chances are, nothing will happen with it, but as with any sort of unencrypted information transmitted across the Internet, there's a slim risk of nefarious types intercepting the transmission and taking advantage of it.

Because of this slim risk of stupid people telling their TV remote what their credit card number is, Samsung have had to put a disclaimer in their Smart TV documentation that the TV may send your personal information to a third party, and of course, people have misinterpreted this as the TV always listening to what you're saying, and it therefore being unsafe to share any personal information while within earshot of your TV. This is, of course, utter nonsense, because as I've outlined above, you have to specifically press a button in order to activate voice recognition mode, and the "third party" it's being sent to is doing nothing more than converting your babblings into something the computer in the TV can recognise as an instruction to do something.

That is it. Nothing more. Nothing sinister. And if you're still uneasy, you could 1) not buy a Smart TV, since technology clearly terrifies you, 2) not use the voice recognition function (which, in my experience, is patchy, slow and pointless anyway) or 3) not talk about credit card numbers or other personal information when you've pressed the button that specifically asks your TV to listen to you.

So there you go. This has been a public service announcement. I thank you.

1774: Last Chance, Twitter

I know I've been very anti-Twitter and very anti-social media in general recently, but an unfortunate side-effect of "going dark" is, to be perfectly frank, loneliness.

It kind of sucks that social media is the default means of people communicating with one another today. I'll grant that it's a convenient and easy means of people to talk to each other without sharing completely "personal" details like email addresses or phone numbers, but I sort of miss the days of sending lengthy emails back and forth with people. I know the option is still there to do that, but how many people would actually respond, I wonder?

This is a preamble to the fact that I have rejoined Twitter in an attempt to reconnect with the people I effectively severed social ties with when I went dark a while back. I don't regret doing that — remaining clear of some of the most ridiculous Internet drama in years has been thoroughly pleasant, and it makes me glad to have the close friends I do have who have stuck by me even as I was harder to get hold of — but I have found myself somewhat wanting for conversation at times.

And so we come to this, then: an attempt to recapture whatever it was that attracted me to Twitter in the first place, and kept me as an avid user for a long time until I became thoroughly disillusioned with the whole thing.

The temptation with Twitter is to follow everyone and everything. A follow isn't the same as a friendship request on other forms of social media: it's not reciprocal. You can follow someone and they remain completely unaware of your existence. This isn't necessarily as harsh (or creepy) as it sounds, since many Twitter users make use of the social network primarily as a broadcast medium for keeping people up to date on the latest happenings or pointing them in the direction of posts, forums and articles that are a better place to hang out and talk in detail. Twitter is, after all, shit for nuanced discussion, as anyone who has ever attempted to discuss anything deeper than how nice the sausage you're currently eating is will have undoubtedly discovered.

I'm not going to do that this time, though. I'm not going to use Twitter as the noisy, messy hodgepodge of microblogging tool, text messaging service and RSS reader that it once was: the emphasis for me now is on the thing I always enjoyed using it for most: talking to people from all over the world.

I'm not going to follow hundreds of people. I'm not going to feel obliged to follow people who follow me unless I find them interesting. If people start retweeting things that upset or annoy me, I'll simply turn off their retweets — retweets, after all, are by far the most irritating feature of Twitter in my experience since it's a means of someone shoving a third party's opinion in your face — and if they remain annoying or upsetting after that then, well, maybe I don't really want to be following them after all.

My account is public at present, but once I have a nice little collection of followers gathered once again, I'm turning my account back to private, which means my tweets won't be public and people will have to request to follow me rather than just being able to do so. My professional life is now completely separate from my online existence, and as such I have no need to "network" online by sucking up to "important" people and trying to make them aware of my existence by building up as much "social capital" (to co-opt a phrase that means something else) as I can.

I can instead concentrate on using Twitter as a means of talking with friends and — hopefully, anyway — having a bit of fun. And with any luck, this will help at least partly deal with the feelings of isolation and loneliness I've been feeling recently.