Sunday, April 01, 2007
Flying with Television
At the movies, preceding the feature presentation there's typically a brief segment admonishing people to be less annoying during the average two-hour film. Why isn't there a similar public service announcement before a six-and-a-half hour flight?
The airline could put together a montage of comedians doing their obligatory routines about flying ("Don't you hate it when..."), which are always funny – just like blog posts about flying, which never fail to make interesting reading.
And now a word about media consumption on JetBlue. Instead of showing a limited selection of commercial-free movies (edited for language and sexual situations) as do other airlines, JetBlue has back-of-seat live satellite television. So, instead of sitting back and passively soaking in a new movie that's not out on DVD yet, I had to become an active channel-surfer in an attempt to stay entertained. Maybe that would be acceptable if I were flying during television's sweeps week, but it's not the best tradeoff on a Saturday night featuring nothing much other than a SNL rerun that was barely tolerable the first time around; a commercial-laden, expletive-deleted airing of "Friday" on Comedy Central; or an "I Love New York" marathon on VH1 (which I couldn't even watch, since I'm saving it for DVD).
Even a bad film can knock a two-hour chunk out of a cross-country trip. By contrast, live television segments the journey into hundreds of tiny moments, "Isn't there anything else on?" *click* "Another commercial for the electric knife" *click* "Oh look at that, Anna Nicole...still dead" *click*
I couldn't even stare at the map for hours at a time, since the flight tracker was punctuated with commercial messages from JetBlue. How many times do I have to see the drinks menu? Why, when I'm trying to remember how to pronounce Couer d'Alene, should I be barraged for the 100th time with the unappetizing suggestion of a pairing between the house merlot and a bag of Doritos?
In-flight entertainment should make the flight seem shorter, not interminable.
The airline could put together a montage of comedians doing their obligatory routines about flying ("Don't you hate it when..."), which are always funny – just like blog posts about flying, which never fail to make interesting reading.
And now a word about media consumption on JetBlue. Instead of showing a limited selection of commercial-free movies (edited for language and sexual situations) as do other airlines, JetBlue has back-of-seat live satellite television. So, instead of sitting back and passively soaking in a new movie that's not out on DVD yet, I had to become an active channel-surfer in an attempt to stay entertained. Maybe that would be acceptable if I were flying during television's sweeps week, but it's not the best tradeoff on a Saturday night featuring nothing much other than a SNL rerun that was barely tolerable the first time around; a commercial-laden, expletive-deleted airing of "Friday" on Comedy Central; or an "I Love New York" marathon on VH1 (which I couldn't even watch, since I'm saving it for DVD).
Even a bad film can knock a two-hour chunk out of a cross-country trip. By contrast, live television segments the journey into hundreds of tiny moments, "Isn't there anything else on?" *click* "Another commercial for the electric knife" *click* "Oh look at that, Anna Nicole...still dead" *click*
I couldn't even stare at the map for hours at a time, since the flight tracker was punctuated with commercial messages from JetBlue. How many times do I have to see the drinks menu? Why, when I'm trying to remember how to pronounce Couer d'Alene, should I be barraged for the 100th time with the unappetizing suggestion of a pairing between the house merlot and a bag of Doritos?
In-flight entertainment should make the flight seem shorter, not interminable.
Labels: movies, television, travel
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
What About "What About Brian?"
So I'm sitting here writing an article about web design and trying to tune out this 21st-century version of Melrose Place that Scooter insists on watching called What About Brian?, but I just can't help but to get distracted by the addition of a new milieu to the traditional TV workforce.
The emerging cultural phenomenon of note concerns two of the main characters, and I don't remember their names and so let's call them Droopy and Scruffy, anyway Droopy and Scruffy founded their own video game company and now they work at a bigger video game company.
As far as I can recall, this is the first major network program featuring the creation of video games as a profession. Video games have now entered the television pantheon of aspirational occupations, along with magazine editors, doctors and lawyers. We've come a long way since Ralph Kramden, Fred G. Sanford and Alice Hyatt.
I've never worked at a video-game company, and so I can't say with any certainty whether the portrayal of the industry contains any validity. I'd guess "no." Maybe if Droopy and Scruffy were skinny, pale, neurotic loners with a penchant for quoting from comic books ("no, they're GRAPHIC NOVELS!!!") and a sex life based in Second Life, I'd be more inclined to believe it.
Douglas Coupland's JPod
came closer to capturing the vibe of the industry as I imagine it. I don't have the book in front of me, since I read it at a public library in Vancouver in one of those,"Hey, I'm having a Vancouver experience" experiences. But I do recall that the protagonists of JPod were given the task of converting a floundering video game to appeal to 14-year olds by adding skateboards, spraypaint and various other patronizing elements like a talking turtle. Coupland's characters responded by sabotaging the game with Easter eggs that probably wouldn't be approved by management or the Entertainment Software Ratings Board.
WAB used a very similar plot device of a game being repurposed with skateboards, but that's where the similarity ends. In WAB, Droopy and Scruffy decided to scrap the skateboard game to pitch their own genius creation, a "Life Sucks" videogame that would have gotten shot down in 10 seconds in the real world by any manager looking for shelf space at WalMart and Target, or hoping to not get sued by Groening Incorporated.
The other problem with WAB's portrayal of the video game industry is that it too closely resembles the television scriptwriting business. Droopy and Scruffy are both "idea guys," who come up with unique characters, situations and ideas, which the sultry boss-siren then gets to decide whether or not to green-light. That's what scriptwriters for formulaic dramas do for a living. As for video-game makers, they live in a different world, bounded by physics models, artificial intelligence, platform choices, licensing rights and content synergy. It's not, "What new idea for a game can we devise?" but rather, "How can I make the reflection on the windshield show the character's death grimace during a grisly collision with an oil tanker in Burnout 9: So What, It's a Rental."
Hey, if I can check out Gamasutra from time to time, so can the writers for a prime-time television show.
The emerging cultural phenomenon of note concerns two of the main characters, and I don't remember their names and so let's call them Droopy and Scruffy, anyway Droopy and Scruffy founded their own video game company and now they work at a bigger video game company.
As far as I can recall, this is the first major network program featuring the creation of video games as a profession. Video games have now entered the television pantheon of aspirational occupations, along with magazine editors, doctors and lawyers. We've come a long way since Ralph Kramden, Fred G. Sanford and Alice Hyatt.
I've never worked at a video-game company, and so I can't say with any certainty whether the portrayal of the industry contains any validity. I'd guess "no." Maybe if Droopy and Scruffy were skinny, pale, neurotic loners with a penchant for quoting from comic books ("no, they're GRAPHIC NOVELS!!!") and a sex life based in Second Life, I'd be more inclined to believe it.
Douglas Coupland's JPod
came closer to capturing the vibe of the industry as I imagine it. I don't have the book in front of me, since I read it at a public library in Vancouver in one of those,"Hey, I'm having a Vancouver experience" experiences. But I do recall that the protagonists of JPod were given the task of converting a floundering video game to appeal to 14-year olds by adding skateboards, spraypaint and various other patronizing elements like a talking turtle. Coupland's characters responded by sabotaging the game with Easter eggs that probably wouldn't be approved by management or the Entertainment Software Ratings Board.WAB used a very similar plot device of a game being repurposed with skateboards, but that's where the similarity ends. In WAB, Droopy and Scruffy decided to scrap the skateboard game to pitch their own genius creation, a "Life Sucks" videogame that would have gotten shot down in 10 seconds in the real world by any manager looking for shelf space at WalMart and Target, or hoping to not get sued by Groening Incorporated.
The other problem with WAB's portrayal of the video game industry is that it too closely resembles the television scriptwriting business. Droopy and Scruffy are both "idea guys," who come up with unique characters, situations and ideas, which the sultry boss-siren then gets to decide whether or not to green-light. That's what scriptwriters for formulaic dramas do for a living. As for video-game makers, they live in a different world, bounded by physics models, artificial intelligence, platform choices, licensing rights and content synergy. It's not, "What new idea for a game can we devise?" but rather, "How can I make the reflection on the windshield show the character's death grimace during a grisly collision with an oil tanker in Burnout 9: So What, It's a Rental."
Hey, if I can check out Gamasutra from time to time, so can the writers for a prime-time television show.
Labels: books, television, video games
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]
