#my ancestors are probably disappointed I even have an 3d

[whitemonsterfan]

Rex can pry Mexican food from MY COLD FUCKING DEAD HANDS!!!

[mado-science]

Get out your dictionary Stephen Gould, at his best, is a marvelous science writer. The beginning of this book is utterly compelling: written with the aplomb one would expect from Gould, who describes the wonders of evolution. However, after setting up this evolutionary mystery to be solved, he breaks his promise (made earlier in the book) to clarify terms for the lay reader. As a result the second half of the book is an exercise is comparative anatomy and taxonomy that left me confused and-unfortunately-uninterested. I had to put it down and give up. And I don't give up easily. It is a shame we lost Gould at such a young age. I know he could have made this book into a more accessible one. Go to Amazon

Through A Glass Darkley. In British Columbia, Canada paleontologist Charles D Walcott made the discovery of a lifetime. The year was 1909 and Walcott's field season was just winding down when he and his team began finding fossils in the Burgess Shale formation of the Rocky Mountains. Over the next 15 years Walcott collected thousands of strange and unusual fossils that he considered to be ancestral to all of our modern day phyla. In Wonderful Life, Stephen Jay Gould traces the history of this incredible find and comes to some controversial conclusions of his own. The book, published in 1989, was a best seller and won the Aventis prize for science books in 1991 and was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in that same year. Some of Gould's colleagues agreed with his conclusions, some did not. The resulting debates went on for years and, on some points, continues to this day. Although some of his original examples were later invalidated by newer research, his main theme is still a matter of some contention. Anyone who has read Gould's monthly essays in Natural History magazine knows that he is an accomplished writer for the interested layperson and Wonderful Life is no exception to that rule. Some 50 years after Walcott's time, in the late '60s a team of of modern scientist led by Harry Whittington did a extensive rework of Walcott's original study resulting in new insights on the biology of these long dead animals. Gould does a detailed accounting of the methodology and technics used in that study. Some of Whittington's findings agreed with Walcott's and some did not, but from this layman's point of view, it made for fascinating reading. A good part of the book addresses some long standing questions in paleontology. Multicellular animals make their first appearance in the fossil record with the Cambrian Explosion and with the Ediacara fauna. How did life get to that point? Did evolution proceed from a simple beginning that, over time, became more complex and diverse? Or did one-celled life first evolve, in a kind of explosion, into many varieties of multi-celled organisms, only a few of which survive today? Did Walcott "shoehorn" his fossils into modern phyla? Were some of the Burgess Shale animals just dead ends that were out competed in the race for survival? The answers to these questions depend on who is doing the analysis and who is doing the asking. In paleontology the study of fossils is like having an obscure, imperfect view of reality and it's only with time and further study that we can get closer to the truth. Wonderful Life is a great book that will give you one mans view on the nature of history and of life. Go to Amazon

Gould - The Master Educator What a wonderful writer, scientist and educator. Gould's passion for explanation of the evidence for evolution of living things on our planet is shown here. Instead of the same old dinosaur story we find ourselves exploring life long before dinosaurs appeared. How many people even consider that there must have been life that led up to the relatively recent dinosaurs? Go to Amazon

Awesome book! It was my first foray into Gould's ... Awesome book! It was my first foray into Gould's work, but after I made a visit to Yoho Natl. Park on a trip to Banff and heard about the invertebrate fauna in a historcial geology course, I had to learn more about it, and I'm glad I picked up this book. It is so eloquently written and every argument is highly structured, I really enjoyed reading it. For reference, I'm an engineering student with an interest in geology, so don't be put off by tales of extreme taxonomy or cladistics, it's all spelled out to the point where you can understand the important features and get a feeling for the whole story of the Burgess. Go to Amazon

Creepy and soft bodied ancestors.. the past life of the Cambrian Period preserved in Canada's Burgess Shale. Stephen Gould tells us how the correct interpretation of the Burgess Shale reveals the richness of life, in all it's forms. This is not a children's book but maybe it should be. The body types recorded in the Cambrian Explosion are incredible. These creepy, crawly, soft bodies creatures have been miraculously preserved, but with a flatness that makes careful observation and drafting a must, the 2 dimensional creatures as the fossil record portrays, are shown in 3d in Goulds wonderful life. His descriptions of how the preservation occurred seems pretty lucky. It is unlikely that billions of yours into the future that the human race will be preserved at all. Our planet gobbles up our remnants well enough that we can not hope to be as well preserved as the cambrian creatures. Read and enjoy. Go to Amazon

Gould as Gould Oh, is this ever a hard read. I've loved the works of Gould for décades, but probably most as an essayist in "Natural History" and "The New Yorker". This book requires dedication to read through all the way. Maybe he requires a more erudite reading public. I'm not sure, but the book required a lot of my concentration to comprehend. At the end I thought "so what?" which showed no respect for Stephen Jay Gould whatsoever. He was a fine writer/scholar and deserves a better audience. Go to Amazon

Expand your mind. It is not the easiest book to read, but Gould takes a complex subject and makes it worth the struggle. It changed my understanding of evolution from the pop science I was taught in school to a much more nuanced perspective. Go to Amazon

Four Stars Disappointing huh? One of my favourite books. Whenever I read these types of books No Fascinating subject matter and Gould at his best: focused (mostly) on something that can really stand ... Life is beautiful, and so is "Wonderful Life" Four Stars Five Stars Pretty Shabby

[almostarchaeology]

A Lesson Plan for Videogame Archaeology in the Museum

By Adrián Maldonado

I didn’t wake up that morning thinking I’d be playing an original Street Fighter II Championship Edition arcade console in just a few hours. It turned out to be a very good day.

So I was on Long Island recently for our annual, far-too-short family visit to America. It was also my daughter’s second birthday but it was raining and we needed an indoor activity. She loves planes, trucks and trains, and we were assured that the Cradle of Aviation Museum in Garden City has all that plus good hands-on activities and a toddler room. We were not disappointed on any of those fronts.

But unbeknownst to us, the Cradle of Aviation Museum also has a major videogame history exhibition on at the moment. And this was no ordinary rinky-dink travelling exhibit.  I’m talking all the consoles, or at least 60 different ones, all playable, alongside some 30 original arcade cabinets. Whose birthday was it again?

It’s been a minute since my last post, so get ready for a nerd onslaught. This post will attempt three things: a straightforward review of a videogame history exhibit; some sense of the wider context within videogame museums I’ve been to recently; and finally, something a bit different: a lesson plan for teaching kids about videogames in the museum. I should probably change the blog title to Things No One Asked For, Ever, but in the meantime, do enjoy the blatant work avoidance.

Capsule review

This exhibit is actually a sequel. It began life as a temporary event called The Arcade Age in December 2015, which focused on recreating the experience of arcade gaming using some 50 playable cabinets. The recreated arcade was only accessible in three daily 90-minute sessions. The layout showed the influence of superhero arcadologist Raiford Guins, who was consulted for this exhibit, in its attention toward recreating the dark, cramped, noisy ambiance of an arcade. Judging by photos of the original exhibit, it also had a cool sideline on related material culture like Street Fighter II action figures and Pac-Man lunchboxes. It originally ran through April 2016, and was then extended to September 2016.

After its success, it was redesigned as a more comprehensive exhibition, From the Arcade to the Living Room: A Video Game Retrospective 1972-1999 in November 2016, now including a full history of home gaming consoles alongside a reduced but still impressive list of arcade cabinets. The website doesn’t say whether this will become a permanent exhibit, but they are selling season tickets for hardcore gamers until December 2017. It was this exhibition I stumbled upon one fateful day in June.

Wall of ancestors

The games are laid out in roughly chronological order, beginning with the carcass of a Computer Space cabinet from 1971 at the start. Curator Seamus Keane has been damn near exhaustive, going beyond the usual focus on ‘Golden Age’ arcade games and providing real working examples of lesser-performing systems like the Neo-Geo and the Atari Jaguar. Fulfilling the dream of a 90s indoor kid, it was perhaps the first and last time I’ll ever play a CD-I and a 3DO (note to me 25 years ago: neither was worth the wait).

Besides the snippets of information provided next to each console, historical context was a bit light and there was no clear aim or agenda for the exhibition. Media surrounding the opening fleshed it out a little more, but not much: for curator Keane, it was “a concept I had in my head of telling what I felt was somewhat of a lost history about the social culture and the popular culture, as well as the technological history of the arcade game itself and of the arcade as a social setting.” Hope you caught all that between rounds of Marvel Vs Capcom.

There were only a few thematic displays but they worked well – a wall of ephemera included a Nintendo Power Pad, several strategy guides and a Game Genie (!). A wall display on the Great Video Game Crash of 1983 included a screen playing the documentary Atari: Game Over (2014) next to an Atari 2600 with an ET cartridge you could load yourself, a crucial part of the home gaming experience you rarely get to experience in a museum setting. A cabinet of dead peripherals was also eye-opening in an unexpected way; the juxtaposition of Sega 3D Glasses and a Sega Dreamcast mouse from a decade apart made me think of how Sega was so often ahead of its time, and yet somehow lost the console wars. In the tech world, it doesn’t always pay to be first.

Videogames in the Museum

Touch the artefacts

I’ve been to several videogame museum exhibitions now (and even some videogame museums!) and can confidently say that this was one of the most fun. There was a wall of NES games and a wall of Atari games, but the core of the arcade was in a long, low-ceilinged dark hall. There, the half-assed display cards dwindled to a minimum and the game was the thing. Original cabinets, many of them with fucked-up decals from years of play, were ready to rock, no MAME here. Aside from the usual Golden Age of Arcade stuff, there were plenty of classic 90s cabinets from my era, and even some left-field entrants like Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker, which I thought was a masterpiece when I first played it in 1990 and has accrued tremendous baggage since then.

Best of all was the chronological row of home gaming consoles buried deep in the bunker-like arcade hall. Here in glowing cubicles of glass but not out of reach were the venerated SNES and Genesis games of my formative years, alongside the also-rans like the Sega Saturn. I showed my 2 year-old daughter her first game of Super Smash Bros for the N64. She picked up the control and held it up to her ear like a phone. I have never loved her more.

The ragtag army of 90s CRT veterans

Each console was hooked up to a full-on CRT TV, no messing about with flatscreens, as I’ve groaned about previously. As the exhibition website puts it, they are “all on old school TV tubes!” Each TV was different from the next one, as they had clearly been scavenged piecemeal from various Long Island attics. Some had flatter screens, some bulged out lewdly, but all were hard-bitten survivors from the 90s. They are the real heroes here.

How does this rate? While the Computerspielemuseum in Berlin clearly wins out in almost every way in terms of playability, historical context and design, there was something about the scale of the recreated arcade and lack of interpretation here that charmed me. As Guins has pointed out, the material presence of the cabinets and the consoles are part of the gameplay; they are designed to draw you in and beg you to grab them, and whatever their flaws, their physical interfaces shape how the game is played.

Beyond Retro-Nostalgia: A Lesson Plan

Ready player one

At one point I was able to play technician: I was able to revive a blank TV screen by switching it to channel 3. I felt like a wise elder. I also may have felt very old because I was surrounded by schoolkids. It was a weekday, and we shared the exhibit with a group of fifth-graders (Year 6 for UK readers). For once, it was genuinely interesting to share a museum with a school trip. There have always been children in the videogame exhibitions I’ve visited previously, but they’re always there with their aging nerd parents (of which I am now very much a number). It is certainly worth recording the stories told to a new generation about their cultural heritage. But it was enlightening in a different way to hear what kids said to one another when playing these games.

What I heard blew my mind. I was playing the Double Dragon (1987) arcade cabinet (I’d only ever played the NES version, so this was very exciting indeed), when two boys walked behind me – one of them said to the other, “Double Dragon! I love that game!” How did he know? What else did he know? Has the Internet already made everyone like Wade from Ready Player One? Other kids swapped stories about the games they’d tried, and I felt almost compelled to start writing these candid observations down. They were like little archaeologists unearthing the artefacts of my past and puzzling over what they might mean – but also making more interesting connections with recent games than I could with my nostalgia specs on.

On my way out I ran into one of the schoolteachers and thanked her for taking the kids here, and congratulated her on how well-behaved they all seemed to be even though they were surrounded by a hundred flashing screens. I asked whether this was part of a specific class, and she said no, they usually take the kids to the Cradle of Aviation Museum because science and whatnot, but they dropped into the arcade exhibition because it was there. I asked if they would follow it up in class at all, and she said no.

The Atari Jaguar: and alternate future of 64-bit gaming

That struck me as a bit of a missed opportunity. Here were a few dozen kids having a great time in a museum, handling the technological ancestors of their favourite devices and games. The kids I heard were knowledgeable about videogames, native to them. For all the action in teaching history through videogames, there are no easily accessible resources out there to teach videogames as rare artefacts of a meaningful past. In what other museum exhibition are you allowed to handle, let alone grab and generally get all up in, the archaeology? What better way to learn than by playing?

Don’t get me wrong – museums with videogame exhibitions often provide their own series of educational resources and programmes for school visits, but a quick and very unscientific search shows little coherent agenda for dealing with the historicity of videogame and the material cultures of gaming. As more videogames end up in museums, we do the next generations a real disservice if the whole message is just about how videogames used to be pixellated and now they’re not. The game is not just the visual but the physical, and every console and medium enabled and constrained ways of playing, creating cultures of gaming. To get beyond nostalgia, we need to draw out the untold stories which will engage kids who are playing these objects for the first time.  

There’s at least a PhD thesis in here

Digital archaeology guru Jeremy Huggett recently reminded us about the need to deal with the historicity of technology: as the workings of our gadgets inexorably disappear into smaller and more efficient packages, we know less about how our devices work, and think little about why they are built the way they are. So break open a few controllers and cartridges to teach the history of computing. We assume a linear progression from worse to better technology on the basis that the invisible hand of the market chose the best products over time. So tell the story of the Sega Dreamcast, recognised for its merits only long after its demise. The market of ideas is always in conflict with the actual market, and real innovation is always pitted against the chance for real profit. Teach the Great Video Game Crash and its mountain of destroyed cartridges; debate the value of excavating the recent past, and what else of theirs will remain to be excavated.

It’s not all about the tech, either. You don’t have to wait for Assassin’s Creed: Cuban Missile Crisis to teach kids about the Cold War and why we’re (still) not playing nice with Russia. You can start with games like Contra and Missile Command and talk about ways in which war found its way even into children’s bedrooms in the 1980s. Maybe have a frank discussion about all those Battlefield games they’re playing now. Play the first ten seconds of Double Dragon to introduce the term ‘toxic masculinity’.

There’s a million ways to sneak learning into a trip to the arcade. Teach the kids how to critically read the artefacts; what could be more archaeological?

More photos here.

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