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14883205 · 3 years
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Week 9
In ‘Precarious playbour: Modders and the digital games industry’, Kücklich talks about the relationship between game modifiers (modders) and the gaming industry. Game modders appear to have a symbiotic relationship at first glance—modders take pleasure in modifying the game to suit their needs and tastes, while studios benefit from the prolonged longevity of the game. Doom’s publication of source code allowed modders to have their fill of modifying the game to suit themselves, while id Software, the studio that produced Doom, enjoyed the revenue the game raked in, as modders would first have to purchase the game in order to have their way with it. Counter-Strike is another long-standing example, where it began as a Half-Life mod.  The creator of Counter-Strike was eventually recruited by Valve, the studio responsible for Half-Life. The gaming industry also gets its pick of already trained individuals from the pool of modders, as these individuals are already experienced in software such as Maya and 3DMax, with the added bonus of successfully creating a well-loved mod that added value to an existing game. However, Kuklich also talks about how modders have the potential to be exploited. Valve had benefitted from the iconic mod that is Counter-Strike, but threw modders under the bus with the licensing agreement that writes modders’ creations as intellectual property of the game developer. Modding is also glorified as “playbour”, where modders get paid to do what they love. The notion of ‘playbour’ has the potential to exploit workers under the guise of passion.
As a casual gamer who who used to play Dota when it was a Warcraft III mod, I am inclined to agree with Kucklich—the gaming industry is at times, predatory towards modders. Mods prolong the longevity of games solely because of novelty factor. Without them, the decade-old Skyrim would not be as relevant today. As a friend once said, “you only play Skyrim for the mods”. Valve’s false olive branch of offering mod teams a one-time payment of engine license with royalty to allow for distribution on steam is clouded by their clause where modders essentially sign their rights to the game developer. The game industry benefits from mods that are created with cracked expensie software, but do not extend the privilege of licensed software to these modders who help prolong their games’ lifespan.
Moreover, the commodification of modders’ activities—once considered leisure--, can lead to a slippery slope where game developers overwork their employees on the basis of passion. Studios like Naughty Dog have been revealed to overwork their employees to the point of hospitalisation, under the guise of wanting to create a perfect game for the community to enjoy. Modders’ passion for creating enjoyable game mods may be exploited this way as well.
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14883205 · 3 years
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Week 7
Ravenelle discusses the nebulous term that is the shared economy, and its plights in ‘What is The Sharing Economy?”. Ravenelle first talks about how ‘shared economy’ seems to be a term that many cannot agree on, as services like Uber, TaskRabbit, and Etsy can also be seen as traditional services, as goods and services are traded for money rather than being shared. The sharing economy seemingly downsizes our world, as many services are connected to our social media, allowing users to know each other on a more intimate level than a cab driver and their passenger. It also relies on the reputation economy, reminiscent of the old days where one’s reputation is widely known due to smaller communities. While this harkens back to the olden days of community-driven people and tighter relations, it appears that users on sharing platforms are disconnected from another, such as AirBNB hosts going out of their way to avoid firsthand contact with their temporary tenants using lockboxes, and Zipster drivers not forming a basic human connection with their clients and riders. Ravenelle goes on to talk about the irony of ‘trust’ in the sharing economy, as many of these platforms require background checks and reputation screening, ‘the anti-thesis’ of trust that they market. The paper also delves into the potential for discrimination in the sharing economy, as one’s facets of identity are more visible.
In Singapore, we have our own app-based sharing economy, dominated by platforms like Carousell, Gumtree, Grab, and the like. True to what Ravenelle discusses, the sharing economy has indeed pared down our already tiny country, as our identities are under hypervisibility on these platforms. Carousell itself has expanded from being a secondhand marketplace to one that includes services for hire, and even whole houses for sale or rent. It is idealistic to say that the sharing economy brings people together and tightens the community among us, as these companies, at the end of the day, aim to make a profit. There have been instances where people have sparked a connection through these platforms, such as the couple who met through Carousell and eventually got married with a wedding cake designed with the company’s logo on it. However, these connections and relationships are byproducts of the shared economy, not results of it. I personally prefer to keep my Carousell connections brief, as the people I interact with are simply passers-by in my life. I have had a couple of interesting conversations with my Grab drivers, but I ultimately prefer to stay quiet and rest. The shared economy should not be masqueraded as an altruistic attempt to bring people together or help individuals ‘be their own boss’. Rather, the shared economy is a symbiotic relationship between users and the platform. These platforms, incidentally, also have a monopoly on the term ‘shared economy’.
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14883205 · 3 years
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Week 6
In #familygoals: Family Influencers, Calibrated Amateurism, and Justifying Young Digital Labour, Abidin observes factors that contribute to the success of family influencers by gaging the audiences’ reactions. Abidin sums up calibrated amateurism as a deliberate performance of spontaneity and mundaneness to curate this impression of an amateur who happens to be an influencer. This cultivates a sense of relatability and intimacy in said influencers, as their double-takes, behind-the-scenes (BTS), and seemingly unfiltered content hits closer to home than an established celebrity with a team of videographers and writers. Abidin distills the ways family influencers create content—filming developmental milestones, family occasions, errands, confessions, and reactions. They also delve into the parents’ defense of the children’s labour in social media, stating that the children have fun and exercise agency when they do not feel like appearing on camera. Abidin brings up the audience’s reaction, revealing envy and even a parasocial relationship with the families, demonstrated by the possessiveness of some comments. They then conclude that calibrated amateurism seems to be the driving force being family influencers’ presence on social media, as there is a charisma to the alleged rawness of their content.
When I was in Junior College, I stumbled upon an Instagram account for a pair of twin babies, Leia and Lauren. I have a soft spot for chubby babies, and the posts were cute and funny, so I gave them a follow. When I first followed LeiaLauren on Instagram, their posts were mostly creative photos involving the twins in funny costumes and sometimes, props like a shark-shaped baby sleeping bag, or superhero capes. It appeared that their account was simply used to catalogue the babies’ progress, as the more creative photos were done whenever they aged another month. Today, LeiaLauren is verified on Instagram with 317 thousand followers, each week boasting another sponsored post featuring the twins and their little brother Luke. As the twins graduated from babies to children, the content evolved into comedic skits. I have conflicting feelings about children being in the limelight at such a young age, but there was no denying that the videos were always a joy to watch, capturing baby Luke’s uncontrolled baby gestures and interpreting them in other ways. The production of their videos was well-done, but not too professional that it looked unattainable without a full production crew. We are given vignettes of their daily life on Instagram stories, while the more polished images and videos are saved for individual posts. Although I consider myself a crticial consumer, I still catch myself hoping to have children as close as the twins and their little brother, as they are often seen doting on each Luke like second parents. Children at their age are not seasoned actors, and I believe that their cameos only lend to the unfiltered aspect of their content. Just like Abidin establishes, the calibrated amateurism of their content was what made LeiaLauren catapult into celebrity.
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14883205 · 3 years
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Week 2
McCarthy and Wright demonstrate how technology – namely user experience design—has always been accommodative of communication and interaction—two innately human needs. In their essay, we are given glimpses of everyday interactions with technology. The library staff finds joy in receiving a short message from a long-distance friend.  The nurse is frustrated by the reductiveness of technology, as her patients emerge as mere bits of information in the system. The last anecdote has a neutral slant, where we see a father make use of the technology at home to facilitate his daily routine. Rather than demonise technology for diluting the essence of communication and social interaction, McCarthy and Wright detail how we are evolving technology to be synchronous to our emotional needs.
Like any other Generation Z kid, I find myself getting most of my emotional and communication needs fulfilled through technology. Even before the pandemic, my friends and I preferred texting and video calls to meeting up, as it saved us time and money. As McCarthy and Wright brought up, text messaging does not really diminish the quality nor ability to communicate.
Most of the online services I use, paid and unpaid, attempts to appeal to my emotional and intellectual sensibilities as well. Through algorithms, Youtube, Netflix, and even my iPhone’s Gallery curate and streamline content to my personal preferences. The ethics of these algorithms are still up for debate, but it is difficult to deny that they tend to align with our human needs and wants. Youtube recommends similar paranormal-related channels after I binge on Buzzfeed Unsolved. Netflix tells me I might enjoy another corny romantic comedy after I finish a whole round of Noah Centineo movies. And after reading this essay, I realise that these features are not just exclusive to streaming services. iPhone Gallery periodically reminds me of things that happened exactly a year ago, putting together a video montage every month to show me everyday snapshots of my life. Often, these photos are long-forgotten and unremarkable in the moment. A candid shot of my finished dinner at a sushi place, a blurry image of a friend doing something silly. The iPhone Gallery manages to condense fleeting moments into a short clip, reminding me of how the dullest moments have their own shine as well. This resonates with McCarthy and Wright’s statement on how technology has evolved to capture the emotional needs of a human.
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14883205 · 3 years
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Week 3
In ‘Large, sleek, slim, stylish flat screens: Personalised space and televisual experience’, Rodan explores the shift in the cultural significance of a television in Australian advertising. Televisions used to be the nucleus of a home, marketed as a collective viewing experienced in mass media. Rodan observes that modern televisions are marketed based on their technological prowess and aesthetic, emphasising private viewing and individual viewer experience. suggests that the waning dominance of nuclear families, giving way to couple-families, has contributed to this shift in perception. On top of that, advertisers capitalise on the technological and aesthetic aspect of flat screen televisions, as they herald a new age of technological advancement.
Most of my friends in their twenties agree that televisions are redundant in their household. As Rodan mentions, televisions are no longer emblems of a collective viewing experience that brings a household together. In local context, this is due to the lack of ‘good’ shows, although this is subjective. Many Singaporean youngsters prefer foreign programs, such as those on Netflix or HULU. My own family seems to be an outlier, as our flat screen television continues to be one of the most used appliances at home. My family gathers in the living room every night to watch local serials, the news, and travel documentaries. I myself join in during meals, or when need to take a break from my computer. In my household, the television remains the heart of the family.
Instead of couple-households or technological flex, I am inclined to believe that the proliferation of streaming services is what caused a shift in advertising strategies. Streaming services like Netflix and HULU, even non-paid platforms like Youtube, Vine, and TikTok, have algorithms built to cater to each user’s preference. Gone are the days where family members bore themselves while their sibling or parent turn on their choice program. Instead, we now have these streaming services at our fingertips, perfectly tailored to our sensibilities. Television is currently marketed by individual viewing experience because people are also less comfortable with sharing their media. People can watch niche content on their personal computers or phones without considering the interests of their family members. Children, both young and grown, are likely to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable when there is an intimate scene on television. A communal television cannot take this awkwardness out of the equation. A private television, meant for a home office or a bedroom, however, can afford consumers with the luxury of a big screen, while retaining the private viewing experience we are so used to. A private viewing experience means not having to perform for an audience, be it through feigned disapproval for something on screen, or looking away during an intimate moment. It is impossible to compete with the privacy of a phone or computer, so advertisers make do with the next best thing.
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