The Task of Blogging and the Task of AI

“Computers’re bringing about a situation that’s like the invention of harmony. Sub-routines are like chords. No one would think of keeping a chord to himself. You’d give it to anyone who wanted it.”

– John Cage, in the 1969 essay “Art and Technology”

“We see a future where intelligence is a utility, like electricity or water, and people buy it from us on a meter.”

– Sam Altman, in a comment during BlackRock’s 2026 U.S. Infrastructure Summit

Ian here—

This post began as a short housekeeping announcement but evolved into something more grandiose. (Though still attached to a housekeeping announcement.)

In the Spring of 2025 I taught a course titled “Closure and Infinity in Digital Media,” about the creation of theoretically infinite art. It opened in the 1960s with the process-based art of John Cage and the Fluxus movement, and worked its way to the contemporary dream of entertainment CEOs everywhere, selling AI slop to undiscerning viewers. The course was admittedly too broad in its focus (as evinced by its mouthful of a title). It took me to nearly the end of the quarter to actually grasp what its core concern had been all along: It was a course about the internet that every person in the room had grown up with, which was now dying.

You can draw a direct line from the sentiment expressed by Cage in the above quote—that computers will bring about an epoch of sharing comparable to the invention of harmony—to the utopian dreams of Wikipedia, open-access academic publishing, Reddit, TVTropes, even the humble user-submitted ASCII game walkthroughs still lurking in the bowels of IGN and Gamespot. That is to say, to the internet, as people idealistically conceptualized it in the 2000s, and which is still around today, though perhaps hanging by more of a thread than we’d like to admit.

Granted, there were skeptics of this vision of the internet. Way back in 2000, Tiziana Terranova dutifully tut-tutted the fiery optimism of the “Web 2.0” era, pointing out that capitalists were always waiting in the wings to monetize the free labor of credulous volunteers. The utopian venture of the world wide web relied on an unstable ideological union of hippy-dippy communitarianism and hardened anarcho-capitalism. It wasn’t built to last, because “free” didn’t mean the same thing to all parties.

But still, during its heyday, it was a grand thing to witness. Wikipedia’s 25 years of operation have stretched over my high school education, undergraduate education, graduate education, and now a decade of me being an educator myself. Throughout all of this, it has been not only an invaluable research tool, but also probably the best available model of socialism in action. (From each according to their research abilities, to each according to their research needs.) It’s no stretch to say that my path toward becoming an educator owes much to the general shape of the internet circa 2000–2015. It seemed like our shared intellectual commons was improving. Information was becoming freer every day. Professors were expanding beyond the classroom and academic publishing to become bloggers, posters, podcasters, and video essayists. Educators were rediscovering public communication, sharing their love of their subject matter more broadly than ever before. I was benefitting from it, and I wanted to contribute to it. It was a tantalizing moment to get caught up in.

And now LLMs are on track to end it decisively.

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A Structural Critique of IMMORTALITY

Ian here—

Five years ago, I posted a video analysis of Sam Barlow’s game HER STORY that I’m especially proud of. Now, I follow it up with a lengthy discussion of Barlow’s 2022 game IMMORTALITY. This video serves as the twelfth video in my Shape Up! series, and I’m also considering it the long-belated sixth entry in my detective games series.

Full script below the jump, with ample citations. (I leaned heavily on the newly-released book IMMORTALITY: Design Works for background research on this one.)

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OMORI’s Fantastical Pacing Problem

Ian here—

Upon first playing it several years back, it struck me that OMORI, while having rather spectacular high points, it didn’t quite cohere and stick the landing as much as Rakuen, with which it shares many similarities (and which I dearly love). It took me awhile, but with this eleventh video in my Shape Up! series, I break down why. (And define an entire genre along the way, with plenty of graphs.)

Script below the jump.

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Wanderstop and Perverse Design

Ian here—

Wanderstop had already been announced at the time I made my video on auto-critical cozy games, so it was already a given that I would play it (especially given the talent involved in making it), and more than likely that I would also make a video on it. So here it is: a sequel of sorts to Un-cozy Games. I also mention to slip in some analysis of my old favorite Walden, a game, which Wanderstop ended up reminding me of quite a lot.

More videos to come in the coming months—I’m finally pushing out a bunch I’ve been working on simultaneously for awhile! Script for this one below the jump.

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Mouthwashing, Flashbacks, and Agency

Ian here—

I haven’t been having my students write blog posts for the past few quarters, which has left some significant gaps between posts. This has been exacerbated by the fact that I took a 6-month break from posting any video essays, which I’m returning from now, with the ninth video in my ongoing Shape Up! series. (With still more to come!)

Script below the jump.

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Recommending the ENIGMA TRILOGY

Ian here—

In celebration of Halloween, I’ve posted a new video recommending the Enigma Trilogy, a series of games by Enigma Studio including MOTHERED (which I’ve raved about before), THE ENIGMA MACHINE, and this year’s [ECHOSTASIS]. This also serves as the eighth video in my ongoing Shape Up! series.

Script below the jump.

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SHAPE UP!: The Beat Bottleneck

Ian here—

The seventh episode of the ongoing Shape Up! series is posted. This one is about moments in a few games—2064: Read Only Memories, Unpacking, and Signs of the Sojourner are my main case studies—that have always stuck out to me in how they deliver narrative beats through somewhat unfair gameplay mechanics. I suppose you could describe all of them as moments of “forced failure,” but there’s a range of tactics on display here of varying subtlety, and I thought it best to coin a new, more inclusive term to describe all of these moments: a beat bottleneck.

Full script below the jump.

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SHAPE UP!: Repetition and Difference

Ian here—

The sixth episode of the ongoing Shape Up! series is posted. This one addresses a structural innovation present in Oxenfree and NieR: Automata—two old favorites of mine I’ve mentioned before in videos and/or posts—as well as Doki Doki Literature Club! and Kitty Horrorshow’s ANATOMY, which I haven’t written about before but am excited to do so now.

Full script below the jump.

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Deep Red: The “Aha Moment” in Investigative Storytelling

The 1975 Italian investigative horror film Deep Red attempts to tell a detective story, following a ruthless murderer who seems to consistently be one step ahead of him. It seems to pride itself in not pulling its punches in its graphic depictions of its deaths: one character is drowned in scalding hot water, another’s head is smashed against a desk corner repeatedly, and a third is dragged by a garbage truck and then gets his head crushed by the wheel of a moving vehicle. But who performs these violent acts? Well, the last one is an accident, so nobody, but as the lead detective Marcus Daly (who is not an actual Detective, but rather a jazz conductor who, for some reason, heads this case despite having no relation to the first victim besides being a minor witness) follows a thread that continues to wind and weave through different locations, the identity of the person committing these crimes is cloaked in a brown leather trench coat with black leather gloves… or is it?

At the end of the movie, it is revealed that the murderer is completely visible in a single shot at the beginning of the movie, as Marcus searches the first victim’s apartment. This shot is set up in a very specific way: it depicts Marcus walking down a hallway filled with paintings, the camera positioned behind him, capturing the left side of the hallway as it follows him walking. At roughly the middle of the hallway, there is a diverging path that goes off to the left, and from that little bit of wall that can be seen, a mirror reflecting a similar painting can be seen. He continues walking, but later returns to the hallway and is unable to find the painting he noticed in his initial passthrough. At the end of the movie it is revealed that the painting was not in fact removed, but rather was a different painting with the murderer standing in front of it, face fully pointed at the mirror, and thus at the camera. When it came out, this single shot was a huge deal in the scene, and is largely the reason this film is remembered today. Nobody had ever seen this bold of a clue hidden in an investigative story before. It set a new standard for what was possible in a detective film, and made the genre even more enticing to consume, with eagle-eyed viewers really believing that they would be able to figure out whodunnit if they paid close enough attention.

That being said, I think that this moment is absolutely ridiculous. First off, the murderer revealed in this scene had not been even seen on screen yet, so anyone who noticed the shot for what it was wouldn’t make a connection, but instead be confused, which is exactly what happened to me. When I first watched this scene, though I couldn’t tell what specifically was off, this shot immediately set off alarm bells in my head that something was up. To me, the shot just looked like passing a hallway with a person standing in it, and I was really lost as to why that kind of just got ignored in the moment. Furthermore, when he went back and noticed the painting was different and began searching for it, I only became more confused as I had already understood what was meant to be the supposed plot twist at the end. Upon analyzing it further, I think that something else which makes this reveal not work is the very specific camerawork used; so specific, in fact, that it isn’t seen anywhere else in the film. Deep Red is comprised nearly completely out of still shots, and the shots that are moving generally are used to provide a fuller view of the space than would be possible with a still shot. But why is it so then that this shot couldn’t be explained by giving further exposure to this hallway? Well, the shot only shows, at most, 1/3 of the hallway. If the shot was meant to give the audience a better sense of the apartment’s layout, it would follow Marcus from directly behind, allowing a view of both walls and giving an idea of the room he is walking toward. As a result of this, this shot feels intentional to an extent where something feels off.

Setting my critiques of the shot aside, what Deep Red attempts did indeed push the boundary for what was possible in an investigative film, and paved the way for many that followed it. Directors, cinematographers, and screenplay writers learned from Deep Red (in both its successes and failures) as to how to better give the audience the chance to “solve the riddle” before the answer is given. For example, in Rian Johnson’s 2019 murder mystery Knives Out, subtle hints can be potentially noticed, giving characters context and even alibis. One specific instance of this happens when dealing with the relationship between Linda Drysdale, daughter of the murdered Harlan Thrombey, and her husband Richard. Before being murdered, Harlan finds out that Richard is cheating on Linda, and threatens to tell her with a letter in an envelope. After his death, Richard goes through Harlan’s desk and finds the letter, opening it and finding a blank sheet of paper. Annoyed at Harlan’s seemingly empty threat, he leaves it on the desk torn open. But not two scenes later, Linda can be seen remembering her father by going through old letters he has given to her, and the paper can be seen having singed edges, hinting to the audience that the letters are written in invisible ink, and can be revealed by holding a flame beneath them; this idea is later explained more explicitly, but this single small shot, intentionally included, allows for the audience to make this connection much earlier on, giving character information to the relationships between Harlan, Linda, and Richard, and as a result allowing viewers to come to more formed conclusions about characters and their motives for murdering Harlan.

In all, the inclusion of this “aha moment” in Deep Red, in retrospect, feels confusing, disappointing, and underwhelming. It allows viewers to make a connection not by giving them a hidden clue, but just hiding the answer in plain sight. While this technique is overall a failure in Deep Red, the film’s pioneering of this technique displayed what is possible for more modern detective stories, and as a result, can be recognized in its on right as a success for the genre as a whole.

By Tyler Ziemba

Among Us as a Social Phenomenon

By Tara Makhija

When Covid first hit back in early 2020 I remember I would take to Club Penguin to “hang out” with friends during isolation. It got old quick–Club Penguin, while inherently a more social platform, didn’t actually have much you could do with your friends. Really, the most social it got was trying to tip the iceberg or trying to start a minigame at the same time as your friend on the same server in order to get paired with them. And while I know several other people also tried to go back to their roots and end up on the Summit server, the world was itching for a non-gamer-friendly online game good enough to use an excuse to play with their friends.

Among Us had existed for a few years before that point but never quite took off. There was no need, I suppose. Gamers had more gamer-y games to play, Among Us was a little bit too fun, in a tacky, summer camp way. Non-gamers would have had no reason to know it existed. But then all of a sudden people had nothing else to do. I remember signing up for email alerts from ten different websites just trying to buy a Nintendo Switch. I don’t even like video games. But people were just looking for something, be it Tiger King or whipped coffee or some sort of social video game. And so Among Us took off, along with Jackbox games. But Among Us was indubitably the one that went the most viral, probably due to its ease of access.

Unlike Jackbox games, Among Us didn’t require a Steam account or even a specific video game console. Anyone could play it. It was simple to share links with friends. Anyone could learn the rules within the span of a 5 minute game. It had tasks, it had deception, it had social deduction. The game was more fun when you knew the people you played with, because it made the accusations all the more personable. It was lighthearted, which meant that it never really grew old, it just grew ironic.

The structure of the game was simple. You’re a little alien on a spaceship trying to complete certain tasks to make it run. There’s an imposter trying to stop you and kill everyone. They don’t have tasks. By asking people about their tasks and seeing what location they’re at people try to figure out who the imposter is. If you’re the imposter, you also have to keep some basic things in mind. Don’t vent to a separate room (an imposter-only ability) in front of people. Don’t kill someone in a group. Always have an alibi for why you were in a room ready (what tasks are you going to say you were assigned?). Among Us isn’t the best game for truth-tellers.

The reason it succeeded laid in its simplicity. As I mentioned earlier, it was designed to be easy to pick up, it was designed to be easy to access, it was designed to be easy to play regardless of gaming background. But more than just that, the graphics of the game were simple. This is arguably directly tied to its ability to go viral. Among Us quickly made its way across various internet channels. The graphics made it well adapted to meme formats. It even took over Gen Z linguistics, and served as the origin of the shorthand “sus” that people still use regularly, four years later. I remember a friend of mine from high school made us all fuse-bead keychains of our Among Us characters. In freshman year of college, our RH gave us all Among Us stickers. I even made my friend an Among Us friendship bracelet/keychain because even if I never got into it, he was obsessed with it. Among Us became a social phenomenon outside of the game itself. It invaded social media, but also the tactile, which simply never would have been possible to the extent it happened with a game with more complex graphics. Among Us’s simplicity also made it well suited for tactile or pixel-art-esque elements. And its character customization ability made it appeal younger audiences.

Then, older audiences found Among Us integrated into their daily lives more and more too. In my freshman year of college, our house’s weekly study breaks would be Among Us nights. I imagine internship icebreakers could utilize the game too. And soon its network effect amplified it like crazy–you only had to have one friend that had heard of it to end up playing it. And unlike its Mafia-type social deduction counterparts, the game was more fun the less seriously you took it. In a Covid environment, those attributes made it the perfect game.

Among Us took off because of circumstance. While fun, the fact it didn’t gain popularity until two years after its release does indicate a heavy correlation with Covid in its success. Covid also made people more active on social media in attempts to connect with their friends. So its presence in memes and other media-based formats grew because it had a larger audience engaging with it. Its a fun game, and its traits of simplicity and accessibility were key to its success in Covid times and going forward.