#the classes were expensive but like. swords. niche. of course it's expensive.

[thatrandombystander]

Wait. If next year I end up:

Rotating to a work location with a 30 minute shorter commute (and if I'm REALLY lucky, the team there will be less strict with leaving times compared to my current team).

Have a driving license and access to my own car.

Maybe I'll be able to return to attending classes with that theatrical fencing troupe I took classes with a couple years back :0

[tiikeria]

Patron of the Poor, Protector of Outcasts

Title: Patron of the Poor, Protector of Outcasts Ship(s): None Rating: T Warning(s): Language Words: 1,874 words Summary: “I am Midas, God of Gold. Patron of the Poor and Protector of Outcasts. Wherever poverty and the downtrodden go, I’m needed. And Los Santos was full of it.” Notes: Huh. Two fics in two weeks? Am I feeling okay? I also have a third planned, and my lovely co-creator Pchew has one going as well. We like this AU bit too much. Anyway, enjoy!

Gavin didn’t like showing off what he could do. The more you played close to yourself, the more people underestimated you. That’s how he got such a reputation as a bumbling idiot. No one suspected the dumb one to swindle you out of everything, now did they?

But something was endearing about the childlike wonder Michael and Jeremy watched him with when he used his powers. Even the smallest thing seemed to capture their attention. His fellow Lads were so curious about what he could do, and, honestly, it was refreshing. Normally people regarded the gold from his hands with distrust and fear.

“So, what can you make?” Jeremy asked one afternoon, a lazy Sunday playing games and just enjoying each other’s company, “I mean, with the gold. Like, can you shape it, or is it just a flood, like before?”

Michael snorted, putting down his controller, “Jeremy just wants to know if you can make him a golden Spyro.”

“I do not!”

Gavin laughed, but produced the aforementioned dragon in his palm, shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun, “Shame, that, because I happen to have one, yeah?”

Jeremy’s pure joy and awe almost made him blush, “Okay, I do really want a golden Spyro, holy shit that is so fucking cool.”

“You think everything Spyro is cool, though.”

“I’m a simple man,” Jeremy stated, still staring longingly at the golden figure in Gavin’s hand, “I see Spyro, I’m happy. Same thing with whiskey.”

Giggles erupt from Gavin’s lips as he tosses the dragon to Jeremy, “Sorry, I can’t make golden whiskey. That’ll have to do.”

Michael huffs as Jeremy cradles his new toy like a father cradles a newborn, “What about me? What do I get? How dare you gift this schmuck something before you gift your Boi something! Does Boiship mean nothing to you, anymore!?”

“Michael, no, Michael!” More laughter bubbled from Gavin’s chest, “You’re my Boi, Michael! Jeremy’s my Lil J, but you’re my Boi! I have something for you, yeah? How about this?”

Gavin makes a show of it since he had their undivided attention, and because he could without the worry of scaring them. With a flourish, he presents Michael with a small, blocky, golden sword. Michael pretends to not be impressed, but Gavin can see the awe and joy in Michael’s eyes.

“Gold swords are for chumps, Boi!”

Gavin pretends to be offended, all part of the games they all play with each other, “I don’t bloody shit diamonds, Michael! But if you get me some, I might be persuaded to give you an upgrade.”

“You can do that?!” Jeremy perks up from where he had been admiring his little Spyro, “You can make diamond swords?”

“Well,” Gavin hums, “I can make swords. I’m sure making one out of diamonds isn’t impossible, yeah? Just have to figure it out. We could make a day of it, lads! I could teach you how to be smithies, just like I used to in the 1800s!”

“I always forget how fucking old you are,” Michael shakes his head, “I mean, you talk about the 1800s like it was last fucking year.”

“I’m only 3000 years old or summat. That’s nothing compared to other Gods!”

“‘Only 3000,’” Michael mocked in a high, squeaky, British accent, ignoring Gavin’s whines to stop being a “smegpot.” Jeremy laughed in turn at Gavin’s pout, but not unkindly, “You old ass Greek fuck.”

“If you’re Greek,” Jeremy giggled, “Why the fuck are you British?”

“What? What do you mean, ‘why am I British?’”

Jeremy throws his hands up in the air, “You were born in Ancient Greece. You lived in Ancient Greece for a long fucking time. You’ve lived in the US for a few decades. So why the fuck did you decide to be British?”

“Because I lived in the British Isles for over a century, Jeremy! I came over with the Romans and never bloody well left! I’m probably more British than Greek anymore, yeah?”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“That’s not how you work,” Gavin grumbles petulantly, earning him a snort from the two other Lads.

“So you’re fake British. What the fuck made you come to Los Santos of all places? I mean, you went from European shithole to American super shithole.”

Gavin stretches out on the white sectional that took up most of the Fakes’ living room, sun streaming in the floor to ceiling windows making his skin look more golden than it really was. Jeremy and Michael settle down similarly, the quiet music from their abandoned game the only other sound in the room as Gavin collected his thoughts.

“Now that’s a question, innit?” He finally says, leveling them with a lopsided smile, “You know I’m God of Gold, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jeremy instantly answers, to which Gavin hums.

“That’s not all I’m God of. Most gods have other domains as well, like Artemis being Goddess of the Hunt, but also of Childbirth. Or Apollo being God of Medicine as well as Music and Prophesy. I also have other domains.

“Akakios contacted me a few decades ago, about 40 years, really, and said he found a city that needed me. He had been living in the States for quite a while at that point, from the Northeast to the South to the Midwest. Everywhere, yeah? But he had never said that about any of the cities he visited. So, I knew he had to be serious to even consider that a city needed my help.”

Both Michael and Jeremy watch Gavin closely as Gavin turns to look out over the city through the windows. Eventually, when Gavin didn’t start up again, Michael piped up, “So what else are you God of that made it so you could help Los Santos?”

Gavin smiled softly, “I am Midas, God of Gold. Patron of the Poor and Protector of Outcasts. Wherever poverty and the downtrodden go, I’m needed. And Los Santos was full of it. Corruption was even worse than it is now. At least 80% of the population was below the poverty level. Almost 30% were homeless. Kios saw these people and knew I could help them somehow. So, I boarded the next flight from London and got to work.”

“Jesus,” Jeremy breathed, “You fixed Los Santos?”

“I still am, yeah? Until these people no longer pray to me, I’m needed.”

The three were quiet for a moment, as Gavin watched the sun dip lower in the sky out the windows, buildings glinting in the late afternoon sun like steel and glass gemstones. He still had so much work to do to get Los Santos to where he’d be happy leaving it. So many were still born into poverty. Too many homeless and alone. He did what he could, but he was one God against a society that didn’t care.

Gavin started when Michael finally spoke, the tone in his voice leaving no room for argument. Gavin knew that tone very well. Michael had made up his mind about something and wasn’t about to be swayed.

“So, what can we do to help clean up the shit?”

“I…what?”

“You heard me. How can the crew help? We have more money than sense anymore. And most of us grew up in lower-class dumps like Los Santos. Hell, Fiona was raised here. I’ve been on the streets, and it sucks major doo doo. So, how can we help you make this place a level above a turd?”

Gavin felt a swell of emotion for his Boi, that extended to Jeremy when he saw him nod in agreement. Both of them were watching him in rapt attention as if soldiers waiting on their orders. And Gavin…well, Gavin knew exactly what they could do. A grin curled on his lips as he pulled out his phone to call a crew meeting.

“Boys…I think we need a heist.”

A few weeks later, the news would tell a peculiar tale. Someone had broken into dozens of homes of wealthy Los Santos citizens, all in one night. Nothing was taken but the clothes in their closets, and the food in their cupboards.

Meanwhile, every legitimate shelter in Los Santos, homeless camps, and charities received an anonymous donation of clothes and food. The only note was emblazoned with a green duck and written in gold ink.

Enjoy your donations. Make sure they’re used. We’ll be watching over you.

Of course, this didn’t make the news. Stories of the lower class never did. But that was just fine for the culprits; they didn’t do it for the fame or the fortune. No, they did it for the people. The people of their city.

It took a while before the police caught on to what the crew was doing. Sure, they still hit banks, but the majority of the stolen notes would end up funding an after-school program for at-risk youth. Expensive items would go missing, only to end up at a charity auction for a women’s center. And those few good officers saw what the crew was trying to accomplish. For the first time, the Fakes had allies in the LSPD; not many, but it was a start.

And the crew themselves seemed to have a new spark. Excitement in the air when they all sat down to plan the next heist, with the next recipient of their Robin Hooding. Jack heisted for a Children’s Hospital and they ended up with a small green duck on the new mural for the playground at the hospital’s campus. Geoff bolstered local AA and addiction groups, giving them the resources they needed to reach more people. Jeremy and Michael worked together to create boxing and wrestling programs for low-income kids. Matt and Trevor created STEM programs. Fiona worked on LBGT programs. Lindsay was adamant about helping the animals of Los Santos.

They all had their niche. And, together, they did their best to make good in the city.

Gavin was overjoyed, to say the least. To see the people he cared about the most helping him make the city a better place was everything he had ever hoped for. He still got prayers daily, almost hourly, but they were coming less as people had more places to turn for help. Of course, he would always answer the call, if needed, but he could finally relax after 40 years of doing everything he could to raise the city from its rough beginnings.

And he started to see a shift in the people as well. They were helping each other, raising each other from where they had fallen. Injustice was being spoken out against. Marches were organized for victims of senseless violence. People were donating more of their time and money to helping those around them. Gang wars turned into alliances against corruption. Ballas and Vagos worked side-by-side on cleaning up the rec center that bordered their territories. The Families extended protection to those too weak to fight for themselves, with no payment needed. Even Madrazo’s Cartel could be seen handing out food and blankets to the homeless.

Something had changed. Something had shifted.

Maybe there was still hope for Los Santos after all.

[raystart]

Big Spaceship: The Indie Agency That Grew Up With the Internet

From its humble beginnings in Brooklyn’s Dumbo in 2000, when that part of New York City was a desolate, off-the-grid stomping ground of artists and artisans, to the 115-person agency that has been the focus of two Harvard Business Review case studies and was knighted digital partner by JetBlue in June, Big Spaceship is still doing what it does best: paving new paths for how creative agencies define themselves, what they do, and how they work.

Calling itself a “modern partner to ambitious brands,” the agency has dropped the word digital from its list of attributes in a move aimed at putting the limiting and, in its opinion, now obsolete definition of digital agency behind it. (If the whole world is digitized, the thinking goes, why would you call yourself digital anymore?)

Big Spaceship, whose name seems more relevant than ever, is focused on what it can do for brands – and how culture and behavior affect their ability to do this – rather than which vertical they inhabit. In this vein, they divide their services into the three unique offerings: systems, stories, and communities. Big Spaceship is clearly doing something right. In addition to landing JetBlue, the 17-year-old company recently became Hasbro Games’ agency of record (note: not just “digital” agency of record), redesigned the Boston Ballet’s digital identity, created an app for BMW drivers that connects them with company engineers, and made a three-part film series in White Sands National Monument to showcase the photographic prowess of Samsung’s new phone.

99U Contributing Editor Dave Benton sat down with founder and CEO Michael Lebowitz, the man most responsible for Big Spaceship’s flight patterns, to find out how the agency manages to win clients David vs. Goliath–style from competitors many times its size, why the company’s culture is such a fundamental driver of its success, and how the company’s ethos plays out in everyday working life.  

How have you seen Dumbo change over the course of 17 years?

In the first four or five months, we were in a 100-square-foot bedroom in my partner’s apartment in Brooklyn. Very soon after that we found our first office space and it was wildly cheap. Early on there were tumbleweeds blowing by! Our first building was pretty rough and tumble, and now there are extremely fancy and expensive condos nearby. There was a period of time where there weren’t even any services in the area and we had to walk up into Brooklyn Heights to get anything to eat. There was a great artistic community here – furniture makers and artisans and the like – and there was a vibrance to it even though it was quiet.

Eventually we got an actual market, which was a big step, and now that it has turned into a digital agency hub; part of me loves it and part of me regrets ever saying anything about Dumbo. It’s always a double-edged sword. Dumbo is such a neighborhood unto itself; you experience it the same way you would with the gentrification of a residential neighborhood. We’ve maintained a certain internal culture and are just as we used to be. The main difference is that our friends and clients are happy to spend time with us here.

How did you come to design?

It goes far back, in a strange way, to the Macintosh 512 I had when I was a young kid. I got one early on at my house, and there was no turning back from there. It was black and white and had a tiny screen, but it was incredible. We then got an early modem and had CompuServe, and I figured out how to do file downloads for the software to create my own bulletin board. I was probably 12 years old, and people would sign on and we would chat and trade files, so I guess I was into the internet before the internet, in a weird way. This was around 1984 or 1985. Design-wise, I was using Mac Paint and would create covers for my schoolwork, but I was never a good designer. I might have actually been the world’s worst designer.

My first real commercial work wasn’t until 1996. I had a friend who worked at a record label, and he introduced me to an internship out of a small web design company in Massachusetts. I swallowed my pride and moved back in with my mom in order to take it. Three of the guys who owned and worked at the studio lived in the house, and I would turn up in the morning all enthusiastic, and they’d wander down in their bathrobes with cigarettes and coffee! Their niche was music, so I worked on the Aerosmith website and a few other things, and that’s where I really began to cut my teeth and taught myself Flash. After a while of doing that, I moved back to New York and got my first full-time gig out of the print division at the back of the Village Voice.

It was incredibly quaint to get a digital job at a printed newspaper. It was the Wild West in web design at that time. There were barely any books, and when I started out you would see something online and just try to reverse engineer it. There was this great sharing community, but there really weren’t any classes or curriculum. You could be a designer just by having enough jobs and Photoshop to do it.

Thanks to the Harvard Business Review’s write-up on Big Spaceship, you’ve had a lasting effect on how digital agencies have structured their teams. How is your structure special, and how does it help your team?

There was a moment in 2007 when we were still seated in the office by discipline. I heard somebody say, “That’s not us; that’s the producers.” It horrified me! I felt like we were a band of misfits that all worked together, so the very next day I reseated everyone by the project they were working on so everyone sat cross-functionally, oriented toward the goal of the work rather than the skill sets that they aligned with. We never looked back.

At that time, all of our projects were of a very similar size and shape. We had fixed teams with a fixed number of people of different disciplines and they had names and numbers – that’s what Harvard wrote the case study about, and whether that structure would allow us to grow and scale. We can scale it, but when you are dealing with many different accounts and sizes of projects, as digital matured more and became the center of things, that’s when things got more interesting. We needed to make our organization more elastic and make sure we could slide people where we needed. But keeping the cross-functional accountability for great work always stayed the same.

The downside of cross-functional teams is that you don’t have all the designers sitting together and learning from each other. It is important that you develop every channel for communication that you can. We have Slack channels for each discipline. We focus on creating the connectivity that you don’t have from sitting together. We became much more efficient with this structure, and the team system was driven to make it like there were several small agencies within a small agency. One of the most important parts of this is that problems within teams surface far more quickly, so they can be resolved sooner. It keeps everything more transparent.

What does it take to create a great organization for the future?

The one thing you have real control over is values. It’s about your day-to-day job satisfaction. Our core values are to “take care of each other,” “collaborate inside and out,” “speak up – no silent disagreement,” and “produce amazing work.” It sounds pretty simple, although it took a lot of tweaking over time to get it down to that. I’ve recently been thinking of adding one around inclusivity and the value of diversity of perspective. One of the reasons we say “speak up” is that I have a lot of experience in what we do, but I don’t have the perspective of someone who has a 23-year-old’s interface with the culture right now, and neither of those is more valuable than the other.

An intern’s view is as valuable as mine, just in a completely different way. And I’m talking about the broadest sense of diversity, where it’s about bringing your whole self to work. I don’t want someone to just be a role; I want them to be a person. How can we embrace that as fully as possible and bring in every new facet we can bring in?

How are you adapting your agency to the post–“digital agency” world?

We should be thinking about people, and that people are at the center of it. Everything is being transformed by the biggest economic revolution of our lifetime, and it needs more nuance. Digital was enough of a differentiator for a while, as it could still be seen as separate from other things, but now it can’t. It could be used to optimize a company’s supply chain or for a social post. So digital is no longer a useful word. I understand that people are calling themselves digital agencies because that’s what clients are searching for, but I prefer to put our philosophy first and call ourselves a “modern partner,” as we were born into the digital world and understand it. The term digital agency means different things to everyone. We are in a position to be fortunate enough to say we are “a modern partner to ambitious brands.” We want to say something about our ambition because we are now in a position where we believe we can deliver on it.

How do you stay on top of what’s happening in the world around us, and when do you pull this knowledge in for your clients?

We hire curious people with a broad range of skill sets at the company now, and we always give people a voice. We tend to hire people who are good at connecting dots that might not otherwise be connected. My superpower is connecting the real superheroes. I also try hard not to dive too deeply into the industry trade publications, as I don’t think you find inspiration there. We will look at other agencies’ work to admire it, but I think it’s dangerous to get your inspiration from an echo chamber. If it’s being talked about in a publication, it’s probably a bit late anyway. Look at what the kids are doing: That’s being aware but not overcommitting. VR is an example; I tell my clients to be aware but the time is not right to go there yet.

How do you maintain perspective when you’ve done the same thing for so long?

Having lived in Dumbo for 17 years, I don’t think about it as one job. We have a slide we show on our agency credentials presentation plotting us in internet history. It’s essentially a timeline of logos. I love being able to say we are only a year younger than Wi-Fi being standardized, and only a year older than iTunes, the iPod, and Wikipedia. So it’s not one company when you predate so many things and have seen them all happen. We saw the iPod emerge and thought that would change everything. Then we saw the iPhone emerge and that did change everything. It’s a pretty soft transition, as you can’t watch yourself grow. It doesn’t feel the same: It feels like we are one set of values and ethos but we’ve been a dozen companies over that time. 

You are one of the last original digital companies that has not been purchased. Why maintain independence?

I have been portrayed in the press as rabidly independent, and that’s not really true. I do get overtures almost weekly, but the problem historically was that I would have these conversations and think that they just didn’t get me and would try to assimilate our agency into their culture. If someone came to me and said they really got us and would want to structure us in a way that doesn’t change us but made us better, I’d be open to that. So I’m just incredibly picky. When I see something that’s amazing, that will be the next chapter. I love this place, and I have an obligation to all these people, as they came in for something really specific. You don’t do something that is going to change it negatively lightly. I consider myself personally responsible for the culture of the place. I need to make sure we are doing everything we can to tend the cultural garden.