Games And Reality

An image of the world burning with a toasted marshmallow above it, held by the figurative hand of mankind.

I’ve been playing one of these silly phone games. It’s a zombie survivor game and, predictably, it’s driven by real world money. They call it pay-to-win in the gamer shorthand (P2W), and that means the more you pay, the more advanced you get while you compete with other individuals and alliances for prizes, and battle with them over virtual items of one form or another. It’s all artificial scarcity.

This weekend, we had a war with another server – all, of course, orchestrated by the game developers. They create demand for virtual items to compete in a virtual world for… what, exactly? To ‘beat the other player’, which you could do by simply playing with dice. Effectively, these games are like that.

Why do I play them? Because I find it interesting to see how players go out of their way to pretend that they care about other people. Non-Aggression Pacts generally spring up (NAPs), which generally elevate some and cause the lowest levels to constantly be raided and losing the virtual resources they have gathered. Eventually the lower levels get upset, quit the game, and with a lack of new players, the server eats itself. Every single time.

What’s worse, any act of defiance to the higher levels is met with iron fists, not unlike the real world, but with virtual items.

The game developers then force the servers to battle each other because people spend money for that. And when that stops being the cash cow, they merge the servers, depending on the competitive nature for items you can’t park in front of your house to continue making money. Until that dies.

I play because I enjoy building things, really, and liking to see how the systems are built. For me, it’s a reverse engineering of the game and the players, and it generally leaves me with a particularly cynical view of humanity.

So we won that war, if there is any winning of a war, and I raise up to see that the issues with Israel and the United States and pretty much the entire Middle East, particularly Iran right now, have escalated again. You can have whatever side you want, I don’t care. The net result is the same.

And I think of the game. And I think of this. Because our planet – our capital on the planet – is not stored in banks. Our ability to breath and feed ourselves is our actual capital. That is diminishing.

The server, as it is, is beginning to die. Except we have no server to battle against, and no server to merge with. We’re playing musical chairs with an increasing population and less and less trees to make chairs.

A self-defeating species.

I’ll just toast marshmallows in the flames. We seem to have a surplus of marshmallows, for some reason.

The Mundane, The Dull, The Undersung

A post from the Dull Men’s Club (Facebook) made itself into a glorious news story. ‘How did an Ayrshire bin end up in a German village?‘ was perhaps the most entertaining bit of news I had seen all week.

The group is full of people – men and women have separate groups, apparently, but people wander in regardless of gender. We find things, ask and answer questions about mundane things and have a pretty good sense of humor about it all.

There are, apparently, many of us that find joy in that. Through the group I get to see different parts of the world and even different ways of seeing the world through different cultures. It’s almost what the Internet should be.

Just a bunch of people solving everyday mysteries.

Share This Post For Wisdom.

A glowing human asking a digital oracle for guidance

Wisdom.

A society that only shares headlines doesn’t read articles. Congratulations. You’re not a member of that society.

If the only value you have is liking and sharing a post, then your value is determined by those that control you, those that want you to like and share things so that they may gain something from it. The Internet works best when we all bring something to it. For those of you actually out there and doing things, thank you.

We say that’s how we like to spend our time, but is it more like a last resort? Daydreaming is more fun. We have books on our shelves to read, or if not, we have books to find. We have a second per person per second, which stacks up pretty big in the billions. We should be decorating time somehow. That might be wisdom.

These days they say AI will help with that.

Spoiler alert: It won’t, not by present systems anyway.

Before AI, it was the IoT (Internet of Things), before the IoT it was the mobile phone, before the mobile phone it was the Internet, before the Internet was the PC Revolution, all promising us better lives. More productivity implying more personal time. It’s not a new thing to say.

Interfacing with a kludgy digital ecosystem that others profit from doesn’t make us more human – it makes us less. It turns us into the batteries of the Matrix, fueling itself and not putting enough back.

Maybe we should be more than that. That might be wisdom.

Watch The World Burn (With Marshmallows)

An image of the world burning with a toasted marshmallow above it, held by the figurative hand of mankind.

I’m watching the world burn. I got marshmallows.

Every day, my news feed fills with what have to be bad jokes about where it’s going. Thus, I have found myself more and more as George Carlin described himself in this interview. He didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t emotionally invested in the outcome. He simply said what he said, tried to make the world a bit better with his work, and letting it go.

Recently, on some social media or the other, I wrote that while the Earth is burning and I can do nothing to change it, I can have marshmallows. In a comment on another post, I pointed out that people roasting marshmallows were more likely to be talked to than people who are shouting at people and calling them stupid. The ignorance does, indeed, burn, but if they are ignorant, it’s not really their fault, is it?

So hand them a marshmallow and stand by the fire. It’s the best opportunity you’ll have to remove the ignorance that is causing the world to burn.

The world is burning. Stop shouting. Go get the marshmallows.

The Vultures.

They ask how to escape.
But never why they are in the trap.

They ask how to win.
But never whether the game is worth playing.

The wrong question attracts the wrong answers.
And the longer you stay with the wrong question,
the more the wrong answers start to look like wisdom.

The vultures circle.
They do not need to attack.
They only need to wait.

(Un)Encumbered?

It’s all been a lot to process since the heart attack. There’s the usual noises of those around you who either mouth words politely or are genuinely concerned.

“How are you?”
“How are you feeling?”
and so on.

It’s reflexive. I’ve said the words before with the inflection at the end. Sometimes friendly and soft, sometimes measured and stern, mostly somewhere in between, tailored for the brain of the person I’m speaking to. I’ve had less problems with getting it wronger as I got older.

I got older. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. In raw terms, it means that the fleshy bits of me are wearing out from this friction we call life. My mind has become a bit proud that it has withstood time better, but I know all the dumb things it has done in the past so I’m not all that impressed. In fact, some of the wear and tear on the body was because of dumb decisions the mind made. Let’s call it a wash. Even on my most open day, the my life is redacted and left to those who shared those days.

I’ve been leery about writing about what’s happened since I last documented the hospital stay. It’s good writing material, and I have been documenting it, but it’s best made public after the fact so I’m steering clear of it and – for obvious reasons – it has been occupying my mind.

Dancing Beyond The Medical System

Awakenings

I awoke the next morning in St. James Medical Complex, Internal Medicine a little more refreshed than before as I soaked in the routine, from making the walk to brush my teeth and shower to having my vital signs taken and being given my medications.

When I first came into St. James Complex, I was told that they hadn’t ‘gotten my medications yet’ and that the nurses had managed to get them together. Today, they didn’t say that. It’s a strange thing to notice, but I was distracted by the sounds of the birds outside.

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Cognitive Offloading Risks Versus Potential Short Term Gains.

Someone asked me yesterday, “Why do you think people aren’t taking the cognitive decline and other trade offs of using AI and digital tools more seriously?”. Of course, this has to do with the dangers of cognitive offloading in the context of use of AI rather than cognitive decline, but I knew what was meant.

I responded with a skeleton reply – it was on LinkedIn, after all, and don’t feel like feeding their AI too much. I also asked a few different AIs, and I was surprised at how poor the responses on that were until I remembered that they were trained on writing done for marketing.

We Ourselves Are Limited

Our brains, according to the latest research, only process information at about 10 bits/second. That’s not very much. Also, our attention spans at last check were at about 47 seconds.

Toss in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and the increased income disparity, we can see how it can be more challenging for some than others.

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Bits of Me, Bits of You, Decaying to Nurture Society

I’m not afraid of much, when once I was afraid of many things. I tend to dive into my fears until they are fears no more. So I began interrogating myself about my fears a little more and found one. I don’t know what to call it.

It’s the bits of me that I share that I am most afraid of, not because they expose me but because I’m afraid of running out of bits. There are bits of me around the world, in little digital devices and held by people who I know and have known. There are bits of me here and there, flotsam and jetsam of my life given willingly, given unwillingly, and all the shades of willingly in between.

Surely this is a strange fear. The idea that the bits of us are finite could mean that we are born with a predetermined number of bits. That doesn’t make sense because as we grow and become embedded into the world we as individuals live in, we change – hopefully for the better, sometimes for the worse as our base personality and the world generate friction and erode each other. The world generally wins in that, sandpapering our personality into something that fits.

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Living Between Moments.

With the volunteer stuff I’m doing related to the residential community, we had put up a solar light at a guard booth where cars enter and exit the compound. It’s been finicky, and it has become a bit of a personal project for me, so I have been at the guard booth for periods of time over the night.

It’s how I got that picture of the moon and streetlight.

People come home through this gate, to our collective and their individual home. Some are friendly, some don’t even look at the booth, some are in a bad mood of some sort or another, but most are only aware of an obstacle in their private worlds. I think that’s a shame, but it is not my job to wake those asleep.

The awake share a common world, but the asleep turn aside into private worlds.

Heraclitus

I’m known by many in the community, so some will stop and chat if no one is behind them. Some people leave the compound while I’m there to get some of their exercise in outdoors rather than the treadmills in gyms that people drive to, and we spend a few moments talking about this and that.

After I took that picture, my mind ran on the importance of the moments between moments. We talk about our heart rates which we count when our hearts contract, but we don’t talk about what happens between them, when our hearts relax. The relaxation between contractions is just as necessary as the contractions because of the way the heart works.

We live between heartbeats just as much as we live with each heartbeat. Maybe we do not speak about between the heartbeats because of some mortal dread, that fear of death, the unknown, where some find solace in religious predictions of what happens beyond that final heart relaxation.

In the same way, we live between moments we remember – maybe the pleasant memories of successes and the unpleasant memories of failures.

The thought ends as the street light goes out, the moon remaining in the early morning. I ponder it throughout the day.

The moon had not moved much, and yet I had all these complete thoughts between the light being on and turning off as the sun crept up behind me.

Things happen outside our private worlds that connect them into the common world, and some of us do not notice for we are asleep in our delusions of counting heartbeats while ignoring the space between heartbeats.

We need to remember to live between moments, I think.