#Sky above the port was tuned to a dead channel

[adastra-sf]

One of the all-time best opening lines

The sky above the port was the color of television tuned to a dead channel.

- Neuromancer, by William Gibson (1984)

gif by @hainfulcupid

[girl-bateman]

Books read in 2024 - Neuromancer

“The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.” - William Gibson

Pic 2 Credit: Luca Carey

[scifiseries]

The sky above the port was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel

[bookfirstlinetourney]

Round 1

Kell wore a very peculiar coat. It had neither one side, which would be conventional, nor two, which would be unexpected, but several, which was, of course, impossible.

-A Darker Shade of Magic, V.E. Schwab

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

-The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger

The sky above the port was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel.

-Neuromancer, William Gibson

[from-books-with-love]

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

William Gibson, Neuromancer.

[booksandteaandstuff]

“The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.”

William Gibson, Neuromancer

https://bookshop.org/a/12010/9780441007462

[godblessyoublackemperor]

feelin kinda THE SKY ABOVE THE PORT WAS THE COLOUR OF A TELEVISION TUNED TO A DEAD CHANNEL

[blueisneat]

Hyper-capitalist advertising, religion, and hope in Cyberpunk 2077

This post contains spoilers

Cyberpunk 2077 is unlike its titular genre in quite a few ways. Whereas cyberpunk and other techno-dystopian media have crafted worlds and cities showcasing the influence of technology and the horrors of over-dependence, it hasn’t ever been quite as apparent just how dreadful these cityscapes are until you enter the first person view. While pioneering media such as the William Gibson novel, Neuromancer and Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner have given hints as to the changes technology will have on societal life through Chiba City and Los Angeles, respectively, none have quite captured the feeling like Night City.

By now, the idea of a poverty-stricken and hyper-capitalist city is nothing new. The advertisement laden streets portrayed in Blade Runner set the artistic style at the very beginning, a style which has stayed relatively constant in the over forty years since. A through line in Cyberpunk media is comparing the natural to the manmade, take the opening line of Neuromancer, for example, which reads: “The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.” At face value, the sky in Chiba City is overcast. It’s dreary and gray. But the best metaphor our narrator can muster is that of a television receiver unable to make a proper connection. However, the comparison is accurate. Much like the futuristic city streets of Japan and the coincidentally named slum Night City, the static moves every which way, putting the stillness of the gray sky in contrast with the hustle below.

While not traditionally cyberpunk per se, Ernest Cline’s 2011 techno-dystopian novel Ready Player One is an accessible jumping off point that showcases the abandonment of reality in favor of the virtual. In the 2018 filmatic adaptation, the streets are riddled with zombified people entranced in their virtual reality headsets. This trope also stems from Neuromancer, as the introductory chapter continues: “A year here and he still dreamed of Cyberspace, hope fading nightly. All the speed he took, all the turns he’d taken and the corners he’d cut in Night City, and still he’d see the matrix in his sleep, bright lattices of logic unfolding across that colorless void… The Sprawl was a long strange way home over the pacific now, and he was no console man, no cyberspace cowboy. Just another hustler, trying to make it through. But the dreams came on in the Japanese night like livewire voodoo, and he’d cry for it, cry in his sleep, and wake alone in the dark, curled in his capsule in some coffin hotel, his hands clawed into the bedslab, temperfoam bunched between his fingers, trying to reach the console that wasn’t there.” Within the modern context of Cyberpunk 2077, examples of this are far less noticeable in the game, but marketing material features instances of children haphazardly playing around in virtual reality headsets. Furthermore, some of the most popular Night City hangout spots are braindance clubs. Advertisements for new experiences adorn just about every city surface in Night City, and yet, nearly every single one is for something far too expensive for the average person, such as a trip to the illustrious crystal palace, are illusionary braindance, or sexually indulgent.

Advertisements in CD Projekt Red’s Night City are brutal, cruel, and instead of being tailored to common experiences or a certain demographic, the marketers of 2077 aim to satisfy the deepest, darkest desires of a city-slicker or exploit those in crisis. A simple advertisement for a productivity-boosting supplement which claims to “save your corporate career” showcases a man crying as he holds a pistol in his mouth, finger ready to pull the trigger. Whereas the contemporary caffeine supplements of today could claim to keep you more alert or increase focus, the advertisements in Night City depict the product as an alternative to suicide, after all, in the eyes of the corporate-ruled dystopia, you’re worthless if you’re not contributing to profit.

Prior to the launch in December of 2020, controversy arose surrounding a fictitious advertisement for a flavored energy drink entitled ChroManticore. The ad in question prominently features a transgender woman with a noticeable pelvic bulge alongside the text “Mix It Up!”. CD Projekt Red,  who have been accused of transphobic marketing material in the past, were then accused of fetishizing transgender people or using their inclusion as a punchline. However, an art director of Cyberpunk 2077 would later go on to clarify things in a 2019 Polygon interview, stating “Personally, for me, this woman is sexy. I like how this person looks. However, this model is used- their beautiful body is used- for corporate reasons. They are displayed there as just a thing, and that’s the terrible part of it. In 2077, especially with how much body modifications are available, I think people just mix and match however they want, however they feel.”

While it is not my place to speak on the issue, this advertisement is just another example of how the world of Cyberpunk 2077 dehumanizes just about everyone. Sexuality is a part of the advertisements displayed in Night City. Whether that be about something as mundane as an energy drink, or as boisterous as the latest extreme braindance, they are advertised in just about the same way. Shock value is one of the easiest ways to encourage discussion. That’s why so many of the best real marketing strategies go against the grain, and that’s why some of the most shocking or challenging media are often the most memorable. They set themselves apart from the rest not by doing something inherently innovative, but by doing something out of the ordinary.

While these two aren’t the only examples of shock marketing within Night City, they are by far the most memorable. While others are explicitly sexual or violent, such as the advertisements depicting someone without skin on their face, there is one that deserved an entire questline of its own. Throughout the game, you will encounter an ad for a braindance entitled “The Passion” and about halfway through Act II, a mysterious figure by the name of Bill Jablonsky will give you a call. Should you play your cards right, you’ll eventually be entangled in the production of this braindance, in which  an execution is set to be performed not through conventional means, but as a crucifixion in the hopes of horrifying people back into religion. The criminal set to be executed is born-again Christian Joshua Stephenson, who was arrested in connection to an armed robbery turned murder which resulted in the death of Caroline Jablonsky and Ruben El-Ahmar. During his time in prison, he became extremely religious in the pursuit of forgiveness. Regardless of his quest for penance, he was still on death row, and set to be executed. That was before his story was picked up by Fourth Wall Studios, who wanted to turn him from a death row inmate to a martyr. 

As the Sinnerman questline evolves before you, several biblical parallels and metaphors unfold, with Joshua playing a modern and dystopian interpretation of what he views himself as: a messianic figure. Despite this, the braindance producer who follows him around makes it clear that she is exploiting him. Joshua remains naive and hopes to genuinely spread the word of his lord through this crucifixion. Rachel, on the other hand, wants nothing to do with it: “Ugh! All this talk about grace and salvation and transformation! I could puke. Take it from a BD producer, religion’s an elaborate lie. All of ‘em.”

Beyond the controversial questline’s surface-level themes of religion in dystopia alongside the rest of the game’s general existentialism, there lies a crucial moment in furthering the understanding of personal value in Night City. When the crucifixion ultimately occurs, Joshua is genuinely convinced of his martyrdom with pure intentions, whereas those he has hurt refuse to accept his cries for forgiveness, and the production company is exclusively using him to stir controversy and increase their bottom line. To these producers, there is a clear separation between the person represented, the agenda they’re furthering, and the potential financial gain.

Much like the suicidal corporate employee, the transgender woman from ChroManticore, or the murderer turned evangelical Joshua Stephenson- the very moment you enter Night City, you are stripped of your humanity with little to separate you from the rest of the bustling city crowds. This is the through-line of Cyberpunk 2077. From the very first mainline gig when Dex asks you the infamous question: “Quiet life or blaze o’ glory?” to the various ending scenes, it is clear that Night City treats everyone identically and indiscriminately, usually for the worse. After all, there’s a reason why all the legends in Night City are dead.

While Night City still follows a shallow societal structure, the city operates on a ‘survival of the fittest’ dogma where the only measure of strength is either violence or financial prowess. Night City is a world with privatized emergency medical care, where you’ll be left on a street corner to die if you’re TraumaTeam plan won’t cover your injuries, a city where your taxi package includes the disposal of passenger corpses, a city that will beat you down to your very core. A city that will never stop its exploitation, a city where the corporations in charge poison your water without a second thought, or flood your entire childhood neighborhood in pursuit of profit. And yet, everybody wants to live there.

At its core, Cyberpunk 2077 is a game about life, hope, love, and perseverance. The relationships you build over the course of the game are impactful not just because of the incredible writing and line delivery, but because of the humanity beneath the cybernetic enhancement. Whether you resonate with Judy’s endless quest to feel welcome, Jackie’s pursuit of the stars, or Johnny’s stubborn insistence on righting his wrongs, there is something there to latch onto.

I’m used to that feeling of numbness upon the credits of a game, a story you’ve loved for dozens or hundreds of hours coming to a close, knowing that it's the last time you’ll see these characters you’ve grown to feel for. It’s got a bittersweet feeling to all of it. However, Cyberpunk 2077 is one of few games where no matter how many playthroughs I’ve managed, how many different endings I’ve seen in the pursuit of 100% achievement completion, each and every time those credits roll, I’m left with one feeling: an uneasy numbness.

There is an ending that stuck out to me far more than the others. It’s the easiest to get, and yet, one that’s just as easily brushed aside. When confronted with the choice on the roof of the esoterica, you are given a path of least resistance. You can end the cycle of bloodshed, spare the Aldecaldos, spare Judy or River or Kerry or whoever else is suffering, and refuse to side with Arasaka, simply by picking up your gun and pulling the trigger. To some, it's seen as cowardice, quite literally throwing away everything worked for up until this point, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t consider the option at least a little bit myself.

In a way, there are no happy endings for anyone in Night City. Each path you take spills blood. In the case of Temperance, Johnny loses the one thing he was fighting for, his sense of connection to his past life in Rogue Amendiares. For the Devil, Johnny will lose his trust in V. For the Star, the Aldecaldos will never be truly happy due to the lives lost along the way alongside your imminent death. And for the Sun, you’re left to rot in the Crystal Palace craving a cure you’ll never get.

I wrote everything that you've read so far almost a year ago, and since then, it's been sitting in a lonely Google Doc for nobody to see. Despite wanting to do something with the writing, I always felt that it felt more like a string of observations without a very concise throughline, just sharing opinions and observations instead of saying anything profound which is exactly what I try to avoid when I do any sort of analysis. However, a simple thought crossed my mind and finally put it all together.

To me, Cyberpunk 2077 is not just a game, but an incredible collection of slice-of-life portraits of hope in a city that has it out for everyone. It's incredibly dark and dystopian, while simultaneously full of heart. In fact, I'd go as far as to say it has the best portrayal of how perserverence is the largest part of the human condition. From small stories regarding odd forms of repentance, to finding peace with yourself when faced with the biggest of obstacles, each time I revisit Night City, I find something else to love.

[mitchipedia]

Neuromancer is coming to Apple TV

They’ve just announced casting for Molly.

Elsewhere on the Internet, I’ve been involved in a discussion of anachronisms in the book, which was published in 1984. It’s a very 80s version of the future, with challenges for bringing to the screen today.

The opening line of the book is, ““The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.” It’s a great line, but you’re gonna have to explain that to anybody under 50.

A climactic scene in the middle of the novel — a fantastic scene — takes place at a bank of pay phones. My autocorrect doesn’t even recognize the word “payphones” today, which underscores my point.

In another climactic scene, the characters are on a spaceship, and the hero asks if the ship has a modem.

A big part of the novel’s premise is that Japan is a global superpower.

Still, the story of Neuromancer still works today.

“Neuromancer” was seminal to the Generation X and younger Boomer entrepreneurs and engineers that built the Internet; in the early 90s, you saw a lot of companies and technologies with names lifted from the novel, the way “Lord of the Rings” is used today. It’s a novel that I admire but do not enjoy. Still, I’ll watch the show — could be fun.

[litandlifequotes]

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

Neuromancer by William Gibson

[angryframe]

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

[owlbearwrites]

I have a complex relationship with writing descriptions because:

I feel that long descriptions drag down the pace

my narrators are often infected with my own habit to notice thoughts and feelings more than their physical environment

I've written / am writing a lot of fanfic, where over-description is counterproductive, because the audience already knows what characters (and many settings) look like, and re-stating the obvious makes for a boring read

even outside of fanficiton, I honestly think that in the modern age, people know what most things look like (and google image search exists), so description needs to serve more purpose than just describing

My favorite descriptions in others' writing (and thus, ones I try to aim for, myself) are those that do any combination of the following:

create a clear, striking image with few words ("The sky above the port was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel" - William Gibson, Neuromancer)

instantly conjure an atmosphere ("Car lights strobe through busted motel blinds" - Chuck Wendig, Blackbirds)

highlight a distinctive detail/attribute about a person ("he smiled, widely, and just a fraction too late, with teeth that looked like an accident in a graveyard" - Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere)

reveal something about the narrator, be it their relationship with the subject being described, their worldview, personal history, etc. (no immediate quote springs to mind, but this is such a broad category, most good descriptions will tick this box)

But also, because I avoid dumping description in blocks, I often get carried away with telling the story and forget to interweave description throughout. I think it's useful for me to keep a note to self while editing, something like "atmosphere check!".

Anyone here struggle with the same? Also, anyone got a favorite description that has really stuck with you?

[calculated-chaos]

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."

--William Gibson, Neuromancer

[tlaquetzqui]

“If you describe things a character doesn’t interact with, you’re just telling the reader what to imagine.”

Yeah, uh…if you describe things the character does interact with? That is also telling the reader what to imagine. And if you describe the characters interacting with other characters? Telling the reader what to imagine. Describing the character thinking? Telling the reader what to imagine. In fact, writing? As such? Telling the reader what to imagine. That’s what it is. That is all it is.

Any possible written fiction might as well be prefaced with “imagine that”: that is how narrative fiction works. “Imagine that in a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.” “Imagine that the sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.” “Imagine that it was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.”

[nessrealta]

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

I finished my second rewatch of Andor. I am still in awe about how beautifully things are pulling together in Rix Road, then that scene with Cassian and Brasso and of course the last one with Cassian and Luthen. (Also, I just love how Cinta is all businesslike in stabbing that ISB guy. No confrontation, no big speeches, just get the job done. Plus the death stare of doom.)

I am fighting the urge to immediately start a third rewatch, so wean myself off it got William Gibson's Neuromancer out of the library which I haven't read in ages - the opening scene on Morlana One had quite a cyberpunk feel to it so that reminded me that maybe I'd like a reread of the iconic cyberpunk novel.

(I am kind of beginning to run in circles of rereading and rewatching here. Uh oh.)