1699: A Note to Anyone Following Me on Twitter, Facebook or Google+

Posts that essentially boil down to "I'm Leaving [insert site name here] And Here's Why You Should Care" are the very worst kind of egocentric narcissism, as most of you probably know. This is because they usually amount to someone attempting to attract attention to themselves flouncing off in a huff after they feel they've been slighted, only to return a week/month/year later to repeat the cycle anew. If you've had the patience and willpower to follow Fez developer Phil Fish over the last couple of years, you'll have witnessed this action firsthand.

And yet here I am making a largely similar post, and not for the first time. I shall try and keep the egocentric narcissism to a minimum, however — though I'm making no promises.

This post is about two things: 1) why I don't intend for Twitter, Facebook and Google+ to be part of my daily routine any more, and 2) how you can reach me if you'd still like to talk to me online — because despite the things I'm going to say under heading 1, I can't deny that I've made a lot of good friends across all three networks over the years, and it would be a shame to abandon that completely.

To begin at the beginning, then. There are a lot of words ahead, but I would appreciate you sticking around to read them — particularly the last section about keeping in touch.

Don't worry, there will be pictures. They'll be irrelevant pictures, but there'll be pictures.

Why I don't intend for Twitter, Facebook and Google+ to be part of my daily routine

Those of you who have been following this blog recently will know that I decided to subject myself to a voluntary social media blackout this week. Specifically, I logged myself out from Twitter, Facebook and Google+, deleted the relevant apps from my phone, ensured that anything that might bug me with notifications from them was well and truly switched off and finally settled down to a week of peace.

It's now a week since I started that blackout, and the time at which I decided I was going to review whether or not I needed social media in my life any more. And the conclusion I've reached is that I don't think I do. I opened Twitter earlier today to see how I felt, and felt no urge to scroll down to see if I'd missed anything — I closed it straight away without even scrolling off the first page of tweets. I didn't even feel the urge to open Facebook or Google+ at all. I have broken the "habit", it seems, and I don't feel like I "need" to develop it again.

Because it is a habit. It's compulsive behaviour — at least it was for me. You may do it yourself without realising it; you reach a quiet moment in the day, and out comes the phone or up comes the web browser, and you do your "rounds" of your social networking sites of choice. You scroll through the reams and reams of content the millions of members of these sites worldwide have made, rarely taking anything in, rarely stopping to appreciate, say, the composition of a photograph on Instagram, or the witty headline that someone came up with for a news story on Facebook. It's page after page of noise, little of it meaningful, all of it vying for your attention with equal fervour. And yet still around and around and around you go.

Some people deal with this noise better than others. Some people can discipline themselves to set aside a little bit of time to check their networks, then put them aside for hours or even days at a time. That can be a valid strategy, but with the speed at which modern social networks move, if you're not there when something happens, your contribution to the "discussion" — and I use that term loosely — is likely worthless, since conversation will have moved on by then.

This matter of "discussion" is worthy of consideration, so let's ponder that a minute.

The approach most people tend to take to discussion online.

One of the things that drove me to start my week-long blackout a couple of days earlier than I intended was the whole #GamerGate thing on Twitter. For those who don't follow the video games field — or those who simply aren't on Twitter — in simple terms, this was an argument between video game journalists (particularly those who err on the "feminist" side of the sociopolitical spectrum) and those who self-identify as "gamers", i.e. people who play, enjoy and are passionate about video games and would rather not be told they're awful people whenever possible.

I don't really want to get into the details of the events surrounding #GamerGate as that would be long, tedious and, more to the point, has already been summed up in a great amount of detail elsewhere on the Internet. (As always, note that there are two sides to every story — something that both sides on this particular argument have been guilty of forgetting.)

Suffice to say, however, that #GamerGate brought out the very worst in a lot of people. It brought out some of the most unpleasant trolls the Internet had to offer, who, predictably, went after a number of people who — let's be honest here — often court controversy to make a point. On the other side, those loud-voiced members of the press and their numerous sycophants continued down a path that I've been unhappy to see them proceeding down for the last year or two: belittling, ridiculing, publicly shaming and even outright insulting the very people they are supposed to be writing for.

Whatever fair points both sides had — and make no mistake, both sides had fair points — were lost amid the noise, and discussion never got anywhere. It was frustrating to watch; I tended not to participate as much as possible as I learned a while back that any attempts to call for moderation in such matters tended to result in accusations of "tone policing" — which, ironically, is itself a form of deflection attention away from a point being made — rather than genuine attempts to calm down and discuss things like rational adults. And thus nothing was ever resolved.

As I said above, different people deal with different things in different ways. My frustration with these endlessly circular arguments — in which no-one was really listening to anyone else and in which any fair points were inevitably lost in all the blind anger and insults being thrown in both directions — manifested itself as anxiety, stress and depression. I was genuinely afraid to contribute to these discussions for fear of attracting the wrath of one, the other or both of the angry mobs involved. And it was having an effect on my mental health.

If you can take yourself out of a situation that is causing you problems with your mental health and not cause yourself further problems, you should do. So that's exactly what I did. I extracted myself from the whirling miasma of rage, quietly slipped away for a while to reflect, contemplate and heal — and now, here I am, a week later, with no desire to jump back into the fray.

This isn't to say that Twitter, Facebook and Google+ are nothing but whirling miasmata of rage and other negative emotions, but frankly, the other stuff there has seemed of little value to me for some time, too. There's only so many "You Won't Believe What Happened Next!" videos you can take seeing before you just don't care What Happened Next; only so many "adorbs" pictures of cute things you can see before you never want to see another squirrel again; only so many baby photos you can scroll past before your only reaction to a friend enjoying a new addition to the family is… well, nothing.

It's all noise to me, in other words; an overwhelming swathe of constant content; a never-ending stream of consciousness in which meaningful life events are ascribed equal importance to a video of a cat drinking water from a squirt bottle. I don't need that. I've always been one for social anxiety, but right now I'd rather hear important things from the lips of the people involved rather than read it on Facebook or Twitter; I'd rather actually hang out with friends than hope I get more than a couple of "Likes" on the picture of the bag of chips I'm about to eat, or a couple of comments on a post I made about how much I'm enjoying Tales of Xillia 2.

I'm not saying there's no place for these sites in society at all — clearly a lot of people get great joy, excitement and enjoyment out of them. But for me, their value has dwindled significantly over the last year or two, so it's starting to make sense to cut them out of my daily routine and instead seek other means of staying in touch with the people I actually care about.

Which brings us neatly on to the second part of this post.

Well done for reading this far. Have a cake.

How to stay in touch with me

I'm not retiring from the Internet altogether. Rather, I'm being more selective with how I communicate and with whom. Consequently, I'm focusing on ways of communicating that allow me to take more control over my online presence, and which are more inherently personal than just shouting into the void of social media.

Note that I'm not closing down my Twitter, Facebook and Google+ accounts — they'll be used to broadcast these blog posts — but I won't be actively checking any of them, so please don't @mention or comment via any of those means if you want a reply from me.

Here are the main ways through which you'll be able to contact me in future:

This site. I post one blog entry here every single day, and have done for the last 1,699 days. Leaving a comment on my most recent post is a good means of getting a message to me. I'll try and be better about replying than I have been in the past!
Email. Close friends probably already have my email address. I don't mind sharing it, but I'm not putting it out in the open on this site. If you'd like to chat via email, you can start a private conversation via the contact form on my About Pete page and, assuming you're not some sort of crazy stalker, I'll probably get back to you.
Google Hangouts. For real-time chat, I use Google Hangouts almost exclusively. I don't do voice and I don't do video, but text chat is something I'm happy to engage in with you, assuming I know who you are before you just pop up saying "hi" and nothing else. If you don't already know my Google Hangouts info, drop me a message via the aforementioned contact form.
The Squadron of Shame forum. Most of my "public" conversations — "broadcast-type" messages, I like to think of them as — will now be found over on the Squadron of Shame forum. Although the Squad was originally set up as a small but well-formed group back in the 1up.com days, the modern Squad is very open to new members, with the only requirements for membership being that 1) you're interested in games, particularly those a little off the beaten track and 2) you're respectful to other people's tastes in games, even if they don't coincide with your own. Come and sign up and say hello, since that forum is where I'll be spending most of my online "social" time these days.
Final Fantasy XIV. If you happen to play Final Fantasy XIV and find yourself on the Ultros server, look up Amarysse Jerhynsson and say hello.

Thanks for taking the time to read this post; I appreciate it. To those of you that I've only interacted with on social media in the past: I'm sorry to leave you behind just as, in some cases, we're starting to get to know one another (I'd like to give particular, specific shoutouts to @FinalMacstorm and @SonyofLastation here, both of whom I've very much enjoyed talking to recently) — but I hope you'll consider staying in touch via one of the means above, and I hope you understand my reasons for wanting to eliminate stressful, anxiety-inducing and unnecessary noise from my personal life. To those of you who are already firm friends beyond the boundaries of social media — well, the same, really; I hope you'll respect my decision here, and that you'll stay in touch via other means.

Onwards to a brighter future, then: one largely free of pop-up notifications, pointless arguments and unnecessary stress. I'm looking forward to it very much indeed.

1692: The Blackout

I've decided to go through with a week-long social media blackout. (By "social media" I mean "Twitter and Facebook", just to clarify; I'm not breaking my own rules by posting here.)

I was originally intending to start it off on Monday, but then yet more nonsense in the whole Zoe Quinn thing kicked off this morning and I just didn't want anything to do with it whatsoever — either the inevitable abuse she would receive for the things she was posting, or the unbearable smugness of her supporters.

So I started it today, cold turkey. And I'm serious about it. I deleted the Facebook and Twitter apps from my phone. I logged out of the sites on all my browsers. I removed the bookmarks from Chrome, the browser I use most frequently. And I haven't looked at either all day.

While I won't pretend I haven't felt a few urges to pop my head in and have a look, I haven't acted on these urges at all. I haven't felt the need to. I know that, going by what I saw this morning, something would just irritate and annoy me. And I don't need that.

I'm not going to cut myself off completely, though. For the week, my online socialisation will be through email, instant messaging (Google Hangouts), comments on this site and the Squadron of Shame forums. All of these are environments where I have much greater control over my socialisation, and which are populated by far smaller groups of people. And they are all people with whom I know I get on and can enjoy conversation with.

One may argue that there's a danger of creating an echo chamber when you simply surround yourself with people that you're 100% comfortable with, but in reality it's actually rather desirable to have a friendship group that understands you. It's an admirable goal to attempt to understand and ingratiate yourself with groups that you don't know a lot about, or whom you probably wouldn't hang out with in "real life", but eventually it just all starts to feel a bit high school, what with all the cliques, cool kids and groups that end up being the butt of everyone's jokes — often without justification.

Ponder how your friendships work in real life. Chances are that over your lifespan, you've met a significant number of people. Some of these became friends because you had things in common or enjoyed spending time together. As time passes, the number of true friends you likely have has probably dwindled as everyone's lives start to move in different directions. That's a bit sad when it means you lose touch with people with whom you used to spend a lot of time, but it's also part of the natural "filtering process" our real-life social lives go through over time.

With social media, this filtering doesn't happen automatically, so unless you take the time to actually go through and prune your friend and follower lists every so often, over time the noise just builds and builds and builds, often with disparate groups ending up butting heads with one another in your timeline or news feed. If you stand on the periphery of a few groups that, for whatever reason, end up at each other's throats, it can put you in a very awkward and undesirable situation, as we've seen with the whole "Gamergate" thing over the last week or so. To use my own personal situation, I identify with the games journalists who are undoubtedly frustrated at the constant accusations of "corruption" being levelled at them, but at the same time I also identify with the gamers who are sick of journalists talking down to them as if they're some sort of superior moral arbiters. Both sides say and do some regrettable things, and even if you're not directly involved — as I've taken care not to be — it can be anxiety-inducing to see what's going on.

That's not what the original promise of social media was. I recall signing up for Facebook for the first time and being amazed by the prospect of being able to easily stay in touch with people. Twitter, meanwhile helped me make a ton of new friends and discover people with common interests all over the world. Since I first signed up for both of them, though, their place in society has changed; Facebook has become little more than a link repository for endless "You Won't Believe What Happened Next!" clickbait bullshit, while Twitter has become a place where they who shout the loudest get to be "right", and whoever is right gets to declare anyone who disagrees with them as some sort of awful deviant.

As such, then, we come to my blackout. I feel positive that it will have a good effect on my mental health. And when it comes to next weekend, I'll make some more permanent decisions about my online existence.

I may have already made up my mind. But we'll see.

1676: Cleaning Up

Following yesterday's post, I've been having a social media cleanup. This started with the unfollowing of about a hundred people last night — some of which I felt a bit guilty about, as I'd previously considered them friends; in other cases, they were former colleagues that I'd thought I might stay in touch with. That already helped a great deal, but there was still some unwanted noise on my feed, largely through retweets and Twitter's irritating new habit of adding other people's favourites and random tweets from other people's followers to your timeline. Those people were swiftly blocked so hopefully I will never have to encounter them ever again.

All this may seem somewhat harsh, particularly for a platform as open and public as Twitter is. But some reflection has revealed to me that it's really the only way to handle it and stay sane. And it's not, in fact, all that harsh at all, really, when you compare it to real life: after all, we carefully cultivate our real-life friendship groups and, over time, tend to whittle them down to groups of people that we particularly like, enjoy spending time with and have something in common with. We — well, I — don't try to be friends with people just because I feel that I "should" be friends with this person. That's high school stuff, trying to get "in" with the gang of cool kids; that way lies only madness, or at the very least a life where you're unwilling to be able to just be yourself with confidence.

And so Twitter is the same for me, now, particularly now I don't "need" it for industry networking and the like. My Following list has been whittled down to the people I actually enjoy interacting with — a healthy mix of game enthusiasts, game developers whom I have some sort of personal connection with (even if that's just having met them and enjoyed a chat with them), anime fans, and a few people I know in "real life". I'm no longer following people I feel "obliged" to follow — people who are often held up on a pedestal as being "important" to some cause or another — and I'm not following any celebrities. Insufferable arseholes who get retweeted into my feed are quickly blocked without mercy — no sense feeling guilty about it, since I probably wouldn't want to follow them anyway — and those who do nothing but indulge in lame hashtag games for hours on end are also swiftly removed from my following list, at least temporarily; permanently if I haven't actually spoken to them for a while.

It's kind of sad that we've got to the stage where this level of "friendship curation" is necessary, but it's a side-effect of the social media age and the fact that the Internet has brought us in touch with far more people than we'd ever be able to have met in reality. I'm pretty sure there's an "optimum" number of friends or acquaintances for a person to have, and over and above that level everything just starts contributing to an overall, growing amount of white noise — noise that occasionally becomes intolerable. I'm gradually — hopefully, anyway — finding a good balance that hopefully won't drive me mental, and which hopefully won't necessitate me abandoning the genuine friends I have managed to make via Twitter.

In the meantime, I'm trying my best to migrate a lot of gaming discussion over to the Squadron of Shame forums, which you can find here. While the Squadron of Shame was originally a group of people who came together on the 1up forums, I know I for one would be very happy to see some new blood over there, too — particularly if you are, like me, the sort of person who'd rather have a lengthy, wordy discussion about a favourite, underappreciated game than think that "lol" or "cool story bro" is in any way a valid contribution to a debate.

Hopefully I won't have to write about this sort of thing again for a while.

1666: You're Never Finished

Occasionally, my mind gets into an almost comatose loop, and I find myself going round and round the same websites, over and over again. I hate the loop — and I'm growing to hate the websites and all that they stand for in 2014 — but still I do it compulsively, habitually, regularly.

First I'll check Twitter. Then I'll check Facebook. Then I'll check Google+. Occasionally I'll poke my head in the sites for my Final Fantasy XIV guild or the Squadron of Shame, but more often than not, it's just those three sites. And there's rarely anything interesting to see on any of them — but still I feel compelled to do it, particularly if there's a little red number at the top of the page.

The same is true on my phone. I'll check it every few minutes, looking for little icons across the status bar and hoping that something interesting might have happened. But it rarely does, and still I do it.

I'm talking about "notifications", one of my least favourite developments in modern technology. Turns out I have the sort of brain that gets extremely uncomfortable if something is left "unfinished"; if a little red number is there, suggesting that there's something that requires your attention.

Trouble is, most notifications these days aren't necessary. On Google+, since the Squadron of Shame moved its base of operations to its own site, the only notifications I get are from people who gave a comment I left on a YouTube video six months ago a "+1", saying that they "liked" what I said without actually having to interact directly with me. On Facebook, where I rarely post any more, my only notifications come from replies to a comment thread I long since lost interest in. And Twitter's 2014 incarnation sees fit to notify you not only when someone replies to you, but also when they "favourite" or retweet something you posted — or, in comedically ridiculous levels of Inception-style madness, when someone retweets something you retweeted.

The provocation of this sort of compulsive behaviour is entirely deliberate, of course; these sites' use of notifications — and mobile app developers' use of notifications, too, for that matter — is designed to get you doing exactly what I'm doing, which is visiting the sites or booting up the apps several times a day just to see if the notifications are anything useful. They inevitably aren't, but there's always the hope.

Provoking this sort of behaviour can't be healthy. It doubtless plays havoc with people who already have more obsessive compulsive tendencies than I do, but just from a user experience perspective it's frustrating to never feel like you're "free" — there's always something out there demanding your attention. Look at me, that little red number says. I'm important.

It's because of all this that I find myself considering daily whether or not I should nuke my social media presence altogether and simply interact with people through more private channels — email, blog comments, chat messages, the Squad forum. Every day it gets more and more tempting to do so, so one of these days soon I might just do it — and this time for good. This isn't what I signed up for at the dawn of the social media revolution.

1511: Read This Post and I'll Give You £1,000

No I won't. Because… come on, fucking seriously? Do you really need me to explain why that is never, ever going to happen?

Apparently so, because last night's #AskHannaForCash travesty on Twitter proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that social media is turning people into dribbling idiots.

For those not on Twitter, or who somehow missed this debacle while it was unfolding, here's the gist.

Twitter user @princessthot posted that she was, for some reason, pissed off with her father, and promptly posted a screenshot that she claimed was his his PayPal account, which supposedly contained in excess of $23 million. She then offered to send money to anyone who retweeted her message or helped spread the word — an offer which would appear to be backed up by a number of people (who, it later transpired, were her followers) who offered messages of varying amounts of exuberance claiming that yes, she "really was" sending out money to anyone who asked for it.

The moment I saw this, I knew it stank. For one of just so many things wrong with this whole situation, who the hell keeps $23 million in a PayPal account — an unverified one, no less?

And yet, very few people — including, I was disappointed to see, some people I follow — seemed to think this was worth questioning, instead engaging with the situation on the grounds that it "couldn't do any harm" or that it was "worth a try". One person I follow said that they were "pretending it was real but staying out of it, because [they] want to think humans are awesome instead of terrible."

Via the Daily Dot, here's just how easy it is to fake a PayPal balance, incidentally:

Uh-huh. Okay. Still believe it? Still want to believe humans are awesome?

Humans are awesome, is the thing — just this week, two separate crowdfunding efforts paid for a little girl's headstone and an indie game critic's cancer treatment. But humans are also terrible, and social media is, regrettably, the natural habitat for some of the worst examples of everyday (i.e. not psychotic dictators or outright psychopaths) scumbags on the planet.

Anyone who's used Facebook at all in the last few years will know that there's an epidemic of blindly resharing things without checking to see whether they stand up to scrutiny. If something uses enough exclamation marks and capital letters, many more gullible users are convinced of its urgency and authenticity, and go on to spread it to their social network — and from there, the more gullible users from among their group of friends then spread it further and further and further.

#AskHannaForCash wasn't as obviously harmful as claiming that Red Bull gives you brain tumours or that a non-existent breed of snake is going to freeze your blood (and, aside: please direct anyone who shares shit like that on your Facebook news feed to those two links and indeed the rest of Snopes at every opportunity). But it's still harmful in its own way; the person behind the Twitter account, whoever he or she is, was purely seeking attention and validation through retweets and favourites — attach a number to anything and it is seen as social currency by some people, particularly those in their teens — and now, unsurprisingly, having revealed that the whole thing was a hoax (sorry, "social experiment" — the usual getout clause) they have come in for a torrent of abuse. That can't be good for their mental wellbeing — something which I'd assume is already in something of a fragile state if they felt the need to pull such an elaborate ruse on the less discerning members of the social media sphere.

You my call it cynicism, but the attitude that "if it looks too good to be true, it probably is" will serve you well in the long term. Would you respond to an anonymous email claiming that you could come into possession of a huge amount of money just by providing some simple details? No — at least I hope not. Would you respond to a suspicious-looking Craigslist ad offering you a vast amount of cash for something simple? I imagine not. Would you let a random stranger into your house just because they promised to give you something amazing? I really hope you wouldn't. So don't do it on social media.

And come on. Do you really think an obviously bitter and twisted teenager "getting back" at their father by doling out their cash to random strangers is an example of humanity at its finest? Would you really trust that cash? Would you really trust that the details you'd have to hand over to obtain that cash wouldn't find themselves into inappropriate hands?

If you would, then your Internet license is hereby revoked. Go and read a fucking book instead; it'll be safer for everyone involved, including yourself.

1489: Championing the Underdogs

If you've ever wondered why I talk so much about lesser-known games and visual novels I come across that I end up loving, Twitter today is the reason why. Specifically, this is the reason why.

For those unfamiliar with the way Twitter works, that's a search page giving a snapshot of the number of people using the words "Titanfall beta" at any given moment — at the time of writing, there are approximately 30 tweets every minute on the subject.

Titanfall, the new game from Respawn Entertainment, the studio set up by the guys who created the astronomically popular Call of Duty series, one of the biggest names in gaming for the past few years, is going to be a big hit, it seems. And this is lucky not only for Respawn, but also for Microsoft, who are counting on Titanfall being a system-seller for its so far disappointing Xbox One console. We'll have to wait and see whether Titanfall shifts Xbox One systems, but if interest in the beta is any indication, chances are good.

But I don't want to talk about Titanfall. I haven't played it and thus can't comment on it in any great detail. I have registered for a beta key because I'm interested to see if it can change the mind of someone who finds Call of Duty utterly mind-numbing, but I'm not going out of my way to get one, and frankly I'm sick of hearing about it.

It's this latter point that ties in with what I said in the first paragraph. Any time something "big" like Titanfall comes along, any smaller developers attempting to promote their work may as well just pack up and go home, because the big game is all anyone's talking about. This is how marketing works, of course; EA and Respawn want Titanfall to be as big a seller as possible, so it's in their interests to ensure as many people are talking about it as possible, and what better way to stir the pot than a steady flow of beta keys being released into the wild?

But what of the poor souls who, like me, have pretty much zero interest in Titanfall? There's nothing stopping us continuing to go about our gaming business, of course, but it's frustrating if it just happens to be this week that we find something really cool that we want to share with people. It's also frustrating if otherwise great games come out, but news of them actually being great is drowned out by everyone stampeding to play the beta for the latest manshoot. I fear for Bravely Default and Danganronpa, both of which are fantastic games that deserve a far greater audience than they will almost certainly get — Michael Pachter would probably brand them "failures" if he had any idea either of them existed — and titles that are competing against Titanfall's beta test for the attention of gamers worldwide.

I certainly don't begrudge anyone who's enjoying the experience of the Titanfall beta; by all accounts, it sounds like something that someone who enjoys competitive team-based multiplayer shooters will have a lot of fun with, and that's great. But at times like this, it's easy to feel a little cynical about the games biz's apparent inability to acknowledge the existence of more than one Good Thing at a time. As ever, the game that's likely to make the most money gets the majority of the spotlight attention, leading to swathes of articles from diverse sites all writing very similar things to one another, providing validation to those who were probably going to buy the game anyway and continuing to alienate those who are more interested in more niche, specialised titles.

At times like this — and I've said this before — I feel as if the games press needs more specialised publications. We're starting to get this to a certain extent with indie-focused websites, but we need to go further. There needs to be an acknowledgement — or more of an acknowledgement, at least — that gaming isn't just about the latest, biggest-budget game out there, and that games don't cease to be relevant after their "opening week". The latter point in particular is something that infuriates me no end; if a game doesn't sell a zillion copies in its first week, it's instantly branded a failure by analysts and press alike — meanwhile, it's extremely rare that people like, say, me buy something the moment it's released.

What have I been playing today, for example? Atelier Rorona, a PlayStation 3 game that came out in 2010. Are the experiences I've had with that game today irrelevant due to the fact it came out four years ago? No, of course not, but you might be forgiven for thinking that if you took a look at Twitter today.

Sigh. I'm pissing in the wind with this, of course, and it's far easier to just get on with what I'm doing, talk about the things I'm enjoying and hope people who feel the same way might gather together with me. I just felt the need to express some frustration, and I'll start taking my own advice tomorrow, I think.

1425: An Open Note to @Twitter

[Note: Since I wrote this post this morning, Twitter has reversed its policies on blocking. That was fast!]

I'm not normally one to jump on the controversy du jour and add my voice to the throngs of people yelling about a particular issue, but in the case of Twitter's recent changes to its "block" system, whereby blocked users are now effectively "muted" in only one direction rather than truly blocked, I feel it's important I share my experiences.

Earlier in the year, I suffered an organised campaign of harassment that was enough to drive me from the Twitter service and completely close my account. I only returned a while later for professional reasons — in my occupation of online journalist, Twitter is a convenient means of both getting in touch with people and promoting content. Were it not for my job, I doubt I would have returned.

The harassment stemmed from a single word in my profile: "Brony." Lest you're unfamiliar, this term describes an adult-age fan of the TV show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic by Lauren Faust and her team. The "Brony" community is a large and active one on the Internet, and for the most part a hugely supportive one, with its creed being "love and tolerate". It accounts for a significant proportion of creative derivative works such as fan fiction, artwork and music videos, and is a fascinating cultural phenomenon. I always considered myself somewhat on the periphery of this fandom, since although I liked the show I wasn't so deep in that I was making these creative works; I included the word in my Twitter bio as a means of showing my support for the community, however, and acknowledging something I found to be enjoyable.

What I wasn't aware of until my harassment incident was the fact that there are people on Twitter — and the Internet at large — who specifically seek out self-professed "Bronies" and torment them, usually through repeated and public accusations of paedophilia. In my case, this began as a series of Twitter @mentions that grew in frequency and intensity over the course of several days; I quickly blocked the main instigators without engaging with them, but more and more people came as the situation escalated and the group responsible for the harassment — known as the GNAA — came together against me.

I changed my Twitter username in an attempt to deter the attackers, but all this achieved was causing them to take over my original username, pose as me and post links to pornographic content.

The harassment went a step further than just Twitter @mentions, however. My Twitter bio also linked to the Twitter account of my brother, and to the video games website I was, at the time, managing editor of. The instigators of the harassment followed these links to my brother's personal website and the site I worked for, trawled the WHOIS records to find the phone numbers of the owners — my brother himself and the person who was paying for the hosting of the games site respectively — and then called them to make further accusations of paedophilia against me.

These calls continued for several days, and prompted me to contact the police to find out if there was anything I could do. Unfortunately the police were unable to do much save for keep the incident on file, and recommended that I work with Twitter to resolve the situation.

I contacted Twitter to explain the situation and point the support staff in the direction of the accounts that had been instigating most of the trouble, and which had hijacked my original account name to pose as me. After several days of waiting, during which the harassment continued, Twitter's response was that those responsible were not in breach of Twitter's terms and conditions because it was a "personal dispute". It took another round of contacting them to convince them to suspend my original username, at which point I decided to leave the service entirely, and had no intention of returning unless I absolutely had to.

Without Twitter's Block function allowing for forced unfollows and true blocking of troublemakers, this incident would have been even worse than it already was. Moreover, Twitter has shown itself to be either incapable or unwilling of dealing with persistent and organised harassment that spills out into the non-online sphere.

I am not the only person who has suffered such abuse at the hands of online bullies, but everyone who has has something in common: all they are doing is attempting to be their true selves, unashamed of who they are, what they do and what they like — and attempting to engage with like-minded or supportive people. Harassment on the grounds of something that you are — or, in my case, something that you like — is completely unacceptable, and it's not at all appropriate to just brush these levels of personal attacks off as personal disputes, then do nothing about them.

The changes to the Block policies do not encourage a change in behaviour on the part of the bullies. If anything, they punish the victim more by forcing them to take their account private when they may wish to remain public in order to meet new friends. Twitter is taking its policies with regard to harassment and bullying in the wrong direction — and these policies weren't in a particularly good place to begin with, as I can say from first-hand experience.

I would encourage Twitter to rethink how it is handling this situation, and to ensure that more robust solutions are in place for blocking and reporting persistent offenders. Twitter is an enormously useful online communication resource, and the means through which I have come to know a significant number of friends a lot better. But it needs to be a safe place; for marginalised and vulnerable groups, those who have suffered previous harassment or those who simply suffer from social anxiety, these new changes are not a step in the right direction.

Please consider the good of the community that has been built and not just the supposed needs of the business. When you build a social network, both aspects are important; without the former, the latter simply ceases to exist.

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.

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.

1184: For the Love of God, Please Learn About Snopes.com

Hello, you, random acquaintance and/or friend of my parents on Facebook. Yes, you. The one who has been clicking "Like" and "Share" on everything from posts that imply you want cancer to kill everyone if you don't click "Like" to posts that wilfully spread misinformation, such as accusations that Red Bull causes brain tumours, that baby carrots are saturated with chlorine, or that aspartame causes cancer, brain tumours and multiple sclerosis.

You know who you are.

I'd like to introduce you to a website. I'd like you and this website to become best friends. I would like you to go to this website any time you find yourself questioning the validity of something that someone else asks you to share. I would like you to check this website before you share the thing that someone asks you to share. And if this website informs you that the thing that someone asks you to share is not, in fact, true, please politely tell the person who asked you to share the thing about this website, and direct them to the relevant entry debunking the thing they asked you to share. (Conversely, if this website informs you that the thing that someone asks you to share is, in fact, true, feel free to share as you see fit, but please stop using quite so many exclamation marks.)

This website is called Snopes.com.

It may not look like much, but it has been around in one form or another since 1995, and has been debunking chain letters and other urban myths ever since. It is a valuable resource that has been proven on numerous occasions to be both accurate and reliable. Please use it.

The reason I bring this up is that the unpleasantness that accompanied the Boston Marathon yesterday has brought with it a number of stories that are complete fabrications, and which have nonetheless found themselves spreading at an alarming rate across all varieties of social media. There is a convenient page summarising all of the claims made about the Boston Marathon and the events which supposedly occurred there right here. Please read it. Please familiarise yourself with it. Please take note of which stories are completely false and/or based on inconclusive, unproven information. Please do not share stories which have been proven to be false, or which are based on inconclusive, unproven information.

You may feel that there is "no harm" in "raising awareness" of issues by sharing things like this, even if they are not true. Unfortunately, that is not the case. By polluting social media with falsehoods, it becomes difficult for people who are personally invested in an unfolding story such as the Boston Marathon bombings to determine what the facts really are. By polluting social media with falsehoods, you run the risk of causing considerable distress to these people who are likely already very emotional. By polluting social media with falsehoods you continue to perpetuate a cycle where people willingly share misinformation in lieu of actually doing something useful, because clicking "like" and "share" feels like you've done your bit. And, frankly, by polluting social media with falsehoods, you make yourself look uninformed at best; gullible and stupid at worst.

So use a bit of common sense, will you? The next time something sounds unbelievable, it probably is; before you jump on that "Share" button, pay a quick visit to Snopes.com and look up the key points. And if Snopes.com tells you that the claims are complete rubbish, for heaven's sake don't just share them anyway. Educate the person you saw them from. Teach them about Snopes.com. And hopefully together we can make the world a less ignorant place.