The Death of Subtext

I'm a big fan of Undertale and Steven Universe. These are both super fun and cool experiences (video game and TV show, respectively) that are solid, expertly made pieces of art with subversive qualities thrown in for good measure. I have basically no complaints with either one.

However, both Undertale and Steven Universe have a reputation for having incredibly annoying fans. A while back I made a joke about how Gamergate supporters resembled nothing so much as the more witness-happy sects of Christianity, like Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses. These groups are often mocked for their enthusiasm for spreading the gospel of their cause, and in my experience the fandom of Steven Universe and Undertale use similar tactics.

It's not simply that these things are popular. There is a certain amount of backlash to be expected from popular media, but there's a fundamental difference between the way, say, Star Wars or Final Fantasy 7 fans talk about their fandom versus the way Steven Universe or Undertale fans talk about their fandom. With Star Wars, it's enough that it's "cool," and there's generally no imperative for others to see it. One does not preach Star Wars, because Star Wars has nothing to preach. Its fandom spreads naturally.

Steven Universe and Undertale have a message, though, and their fandoms want to spread that message. It crosses the line from the natural circulation of Star Wars to the more jarring circulation of Mormonism when the people who talk about it stop thinking it's "cool" and start thinking it's "Important." Which is tragic, because the actual experience they want to support handles that message in a far less jarring manner than its fans do.

All that to say, today I'd like to talk about subtlety.

The Reign of Terror

I'm fairly liberal. To some, I'm sure I seem extremely liberal. To others, I'm sure I'm not liberal enough. The sliding scale of liberalism and conservatism stretches farther than the eye can see on both sides, and you can always take things farther.

That said, I never want to lose the moderate notion that the people who disagree with me are still people, and that they generally hold their views for good reasons. Or, at least, for reasons that make sense to them. I don't think it's safe to assume that the people who disagree with you are less intelligent than you, or that they are holding their views for selfish or malevolent purposes.

Given that, today I'm going to write a little bit about a point in history in which terror and violence came, not from conservatives, but from a nation whose liberalism had run out of control. I'm talking about France in the 1790s, in the midst of the French Revolution.

Examining Gamergate Part 3: Cronyism

In my research of the charges of Gamergate, the thing that struck me most was how unpleasant the material was to read. Not because the subject matter was uncomfortable, but because it felt like I was reading the accounts of a witch hunt; that these people were angry, and they needed to unleash that anger on something, anything, so long as they can concoct some justification to do so.

I'm pretty stoic, and I tend to naturally keep all of my emotions in check, for better or worse. However, the only emotion I actively try to keep in check, the only one I actually fight off on the rare occasion it arises, is anger. Of all the emotions it seems to be the most likely to be unnecessarily destructive, the most likely to get out of hand, and the most difficult to get under control. It's an unpleasant emotion, both to feel and to read.

It's particularly uncomfortable to experience when you don't feel the injustice the way someone else does. All anger stems from injustice, and the difference between Gamergate proponents and opponents is what they consider an injustice. The most tiresome thing while reading through Gamergate articles was the fact that I couldn't find much to commiserate with them about, so I couldn't share in their anger.

The closest I came to understanding their frustration was with their charges of cronyism among the gaming media.

Examining Gamergate Part 2: On Conspiracy

I'd like to get into the habit of announcing my blog posts more often. Letting people know I've posted something new increases my meager traffic considerably, it turns out. I don't think I'll be announcing these posts, though. Best case scenario, it will remind people that this is still an ongoing conversation, which is something many people (myself included) would like to move past. Worst case scenario, I'll get pulled into that conversation further, a prospect that fills me with exhaustion at the thought.

Researching and writing on this subject has been exhausting enough. It reminds me of something someone said, and I apologize for not remembering who it was so I can credit them. To paraphrase: the most frustrating arguments are with people who are wrong in a way that's exhausting to explain. To a large degree, that describes the Gamergate debate.

Exhausting or not, though, I'm determined to organize my thoughts on this subject. Only then, perhaps, will I be free. So, on to the subject of conspiracy in gaming journalism.

Examining Gamergate: On Corruption

A few months ago an old friend of mine started posting about Gamergate. Gamergate hasn't been in the news as much lately, though maybe I only think that because I've personally been avoiding it as much as possible. Regardless, this was clearly something my friend was passionate about, so we started talking.

I generally try to avoid seeing another group as an "other." For opponents of Gamergate, the rule of thumb was "do not engage," as if its proponents are not worth your time. I don't like to think of people that way, especially friends, so I broke the rule. I engaged, and my friend provided me with tons of reading material to show me what he's talking about.

I've since read a lot, thought a lot, and examined this issue for the sake of my friend. Here's what I've found:

Resolutions for 2016

Though I basically ditched my 2015 resolutions, I do believe in the resolution model so long as the resolutions have the following qualities:

• Realistic - Goals I can reasonably achieve in the given time frame and given my schedule.
• Concrete/Measurable - Goals I can work towards, producing results I can demonstrate.
• Personal Improvement - Goals that enhance my knowledge or abilities.
• Habit-Changing - Goals that I wasn't already going to reach without making them goals.

Through resolutions like this, I've played and finished more games, finished more books, gone on more hikes, watched more movies, and wrote more than I otherwise would have. These resolutions kept me active, kept me thinking, and generally gave me a greater appreciation for the arts than I had before.

2015 in Review

I started this blog as part of a New Year's resolution in 2014. The goal was to end the year with 365 blog posts, and I ended up with 364 (due to a failure to hit a final Publish button properly). The year 2014 was a good year for keeping resolutions. The year 2015 was not. However, given all that's happened in the past year, I'm pretty content with that. It's been an active year, and tossing a few personal goals to the wayside was necessary in order to seize some unexpected opportunities that seemed more important than weekly blog posts and finding new music.

Some highlights of 2015: