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Mostly musings.

DayZ: Emergent Gameplay, The Catharsis of Death, and Just Plain Fun

Emergent gameplay

There’s a lot being said on the internet about the so-called “emergent gameplay” being offered by what seems like one of the most popular zombie apocalypse mods since zombie apocalypse games were even a thing. What everyone is saying is that DayZ provides a gameplay experience like no other; because there are no clear goals per se, it’s up to players to figure out what to do with their time in Chernarus.

Players start on what has been affectionately named “the bean coast” (however inaccurate that name might be, seeing as the current version of DayZ sees you spawning with nothing but a bandage, a flashlight, and a box of painkillers to your name) by more experienced players, and from there, it’s totally up to the player as to what they do. Do players try and seek their survival in one of the larger coastal towns, fully aware that other players will also be lurking there? Or do more experienced players head north from the moment they spawn, knowing full well that their chances of survival are much greater when every other player isn’t about to kill them for the next meal its this sort of survivalism that means what players do in DayZ isn’t necessairily goverened by any laws.

It’s this emergent gameplay that means you can lone wolf your entire survival experience by living the lonely life in the wilderness. You’ll stop only to collect fresh water from a dam, or to kill and gut wild animals for food. The lonely life is exactly that: your survival is pretty much guaranteed if you stay away from towns (at least once you have all the gear you need), or unless you do something stupid like fall out of a deer stand, break your legs, and bleed out. That would be terribly unfortunate, but one of the harsh realities of living away from readily available hospitals and their much-valued medical supplies.

If you prefer to play with friends, then that’s another experience entirely: because there’s more of you, it doesn’t really matter if you come across a few zombies here and there, because chances are, you’ll shoot all the zombies in a town before anyone can even stop to reload. Playing with friends means you’re not totally dependant on yourself for survival — if you get hurt, there’s usually someone close by to patch you up before you bleed out and die.

I remember this one time where I was driving along by myself in an off-road ute, following the lead car along a dirt road. The lead car cuts the corner of a bend up ahead, and I attempt to do the same. There’s a momentary second of lag, which I mistake for desync (packet loss), but the next thing I know, I’m out of the car and on the ground, bleeding out. I shout into comms that something bad has happened, and the lead car turns around, everyone jumps out, and tries to find me — made much easier by the billowing cloud of smoke rising into the air, originating from where the off-road was. As it turns out, I had hit a small bush or some other immovable object, been thrown out of the car, and was unconscious and quickly bleeding out. Luckily the rest of the group was nearby, otherwise I would have died there and then.

Whether you’re playing with friends or doing it lone wolf, there’s a lot to do in DayZ, even without any clear goals other than your continued survival. Perhaps it’s because there are no clear goals that means players have to make their own fun, and in that way, DayZ approaches the sandbox simulator we’ve always wanted.

The catharsis of death in DayZ

There’s one aspect of DayZ that makes it such a compelling game to play, and it’s the fact that no matter what you do, you will die. Perhaps not all that strange when you think that DayZ is all about survival, but the fact is, you will die. Many, many times, and often through no fault of your own; you might step into the flight path of a stray bullet, for example, killing you in one shot (been there, done that), or you might come across hostile players who shoot first, and ask questions later. The fact is, you will die, and you will die a lot.

But that’s just the thing: death is perhaps one of the best aspects of DayZ. More accurately, death is simultaneously the best and worst thing that can happen to you as a player.

Worst because it means you’ll lose all your hard-earned gear, your zombie kill stats, your backpack, all of it. All that time you spent scavaging for the essentials to survive in the wilderness — hatchet, matches, map, compass, watch, and so on — all gone. You’re instantly back to square one, and you’ve lost all your gear in the process. If you’re the type of person who gets attached to their gear — don’t, because in DayZ, that only leads to tears.

At the same time, death is perhaps the best thing that can happen to you as a player in DayZ. It means you’ll lose all your gear, but unless you had really rare stuff, most of what you had is replaceable. You’ll always find another set of camo clothing, or that shiny new sniper rifle you liked. And we haven’t even gotten to the bset part: with your new character, there’s untold possibilities about what you could do. Think about it: the chance to show that headshot statistic who’s boss. With a new character, you’ve got nothing to lose, so you’ll take more risks in order for a bigger payoff: you’ll get the chance to explore a city you might never have done so when you were all geared up, and you might even run around like some kind of axe murderer, freaking people out over direct chat.

I remember this one time when I died, and I was relatively upset that I started back at the bean coast without any gear. I began to make my way back up north to where my body was, and on the way, I managed to find a crashed heli (think randomly-placed ultra-rare gear spawn) and a fully functioning ATV with gear inside. I never would have found those items had I not died minutes ago, so in that case, death was one of the best things that could have possibly happened.

Death is almost refreshing, in a way. As your character survives for more and more days, you either begin to take less risks, or don’t play at all. But when you die, you’re free from the burden of surviving, and don’t have anything to worry about. Death frees you from all the pressure of survival, and means you can run like a lunatic in Cherno or Elektro. You’ve got nothing to lose, so why not just run around naked for a little while? There’s always time to play seriously later on.

Just plain fun

Taking all the above into account, there’s one thing which makes DayZ just so much fun to play. You’ll treat it seriously when you’re surviving by yourself, you’ll have a bit of fun just after you’ve died, and you’ll treat gear as if your life depended on it.

You’ll freak out when someone is around you shouting strange things into direct voice chat.

You might even descend to the point where you’ll shoot someone else just for their backpack.

But one things’s for sure: you’ll have a hell of a lot of fun playing it.

There are no questions any more, only answers and Google.

A wise man said something along the same lines not too long ago, and I realised the other day how true his words actually were.

Scenario: you’re at a party or some other social gathering. Maybe out in town with a few mates or whatever, and you find yourself in an argument over, say, the Nexus 7 is the only tablet to be released thus far with Android 4.1, Jelly Bean. Your back and forth about how you know for sure that the Galaxy Nexus is the only phone that currently has Jelly Bean is for all intents and purposes, irrelevant, because you want to find out what current Android tablets can run Jelly Bean.

None of you know the answer for sure, so you pull our whatever smartphone you have, look it up on the internets, and find out that yes, indeed, the Nexus 7 is currently the only shipping tablet that runs Google’s latest OS.

There are no questions anymore, only answers and Google.

Scenario two: you’re at a gathering with a few more mates, this time around an open fire somewhere in the wilds of Tasmania. Somehow, the conversation turns to how many Pokémon are in the Generation IV remakes of the Generation II games. You can never remember how many Pokémon are available in HeartGold or SoulSilver — one of you is adamant that it’s only the original 251 (that appeared in the original Gold and Silver games for GameBoy Color), and the other one of you is sure you can catch many, many more Pokémon than just the original 251. Consequently, you get into some heated argument about how many Pokémon are actually available.

None of you know the answer for sure, so one of you decides to settle it by looking up the answer on the internet. Mobile data coverage is spotty where you are, but you managed to jump onto Bulbapedia and find that yes, “Pokémon native to Sinnoh and Hoenn can be found in various methods.”

Thanks to our constant connectivity, the proliferation of smartphones, and the basic need for burning questions to be answered in a timely manner, there are no questions anymore, only answers, and Google. In the old days, you might have had to wait until you were at home and at a computer before you could settle an argument — but by then, the moment would have passed, and no-one would likely care.

It’s a double-edged sword. Settling arguments is one thing, but such definitiveness (yes, that’s a word now) means that there’s no mystery. Of course, you could always not Google things right there and then, but where’s the fun in that?

This shorter post, apropos of nothing, proudly brought to you by random thoughts in Benny Ling’s brain.

What happens if the social web as we know it isn’t actually all that social?

Stephen Marche, The Atlantic:

The idea that a Web site could deliver a more friendly, interconnected world is bogus. The depth of one’s social network outside Facebook is what determines the depth of one’s social network within Facebook, not the other way around. Using social media doesn’t create new social networks; it just transfers established networks from one platform to another. For the most part, Facebook doesn’t destroy friendships—but it doesn’t create them, either.

On the face of it, it seems crazy: social networking that isn’t social. But like it or not, Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, and your social network of choice are pretty much everywhere. But what does that mean for you? I mean, aren’t you the one that decides what to post, where? Aren’t you the one that decides how many friends you have, or how privy other people are to your innermost secrets, or at least the ones you choose to share with your fellow socialites? While at least some of that may be true, it doesn’t mean that social networking is all that social. Let me explain.

Almost half of the Australian population uses Facebook. And I can tell you from first-hand experience that Facebook is great! Fantastic, even. When Facebook first launched, I remember the stories of how it meant people could keep in touch with people they thought they had all but lost contact with. There was quite a bit of press about people getting in touch with their teachers from high school, or with long-lost relatives, cousins, friends who had moved to other countries. For most people, that was a great thing: it meant that people didn’t have to track down relatives by calling sixteen different individuals just for an email address, or having to go and do the legwork to get in touch with someone from high school. Anyone could just add their friend on Facebook, and that was that. Easy, right?

Thanks to this thing called the Internet, Facebook suddenly made the world a smaller place. Now it doesn’t matter what country your friends are in, or whether a few streets away, or a few thousand kilometers, because as long as they’re online, you can talk to them in real-time. It doesn’t matter how separated by geographical distance you are, because the internet is everywhere. It doesn’t matter if you can’t see your friends in person on a weekly or monthly basis, because the internet is always there.

To reiterate my original question: what happens if social media isn’t all it’s chalked up to be? What happens, instead of connecting people (hi Nokia!), the social web just serves as a reminder for how lonely we all are?

Granted, that’s a rather pessimistic way of looking at things. Perhaps, then, the above statement could be rephrased as such: as well as connecting people, what happens if the social web also serves as a reminder for how lonely we all are? I have friends that only post the most enthusiastic stuff. They’re seemingly always happy. They’re seemingly always content, and never upset, sad, or anything else.

One one hand, that’s great, you know? If they’re happy, I’m happy that they’re happy. But on the other, you have to wonder: if someone is posting about how much they love their significant other, or how great their life is, and I’m here reading their happiest-ever-status, doesn’t that mean my own life is a miserable mess by comparison?

Once again, Stephen Marche:

When I scroll through page after page of my friends’ descriptions of how accidentally eloquent their kids are, and how their husbands are endearingly bumbling, and how they’re all about to eat a home-cooked meal prepared with fresh local organic produce bought at the farmers’ market and then go for a jog and maybe check in at the office because they’re so busy getting ready to hop on a plane for a week of luxury dogsledding in Lapland, I do grow slightly more miserable. A lot of other people doing the same thing feel a little bit worse, too.

It’s this passive consumption that means the social web might not be all it’s chalked up to be, and it’s this passive consumption that means when you read about how great someone else’s life is, your own life will seem less so by comparison.

Real life isn’t like this. You don’t know what the person on the street is feeling. You don’t know what they’re thinking, or how their day is going. If you ask them, you’ll probably find out, but who wants to go around asking total strangers how they’re going, how they’re feeling?

Maybe it’s just me, but sometimes I ask myself if any of this social networking stuff is “worth it”. I wonder if keeping up-to-date with Facebook, or Twitter, is “worth it”. What do I gain? The question, once again, could perhaps be better rephrased as: do all these social networks make me feel more connected with people I care about, or less so?

I’d like to think that social media has made our lives better. In ways, it has: it means we can talk to our friends in a different time zone. Social media, the social web, whatever you want to call it, has meant that we can connect with Mac enthusiasts from all over the world. It means that we can connect with famous photographers, people we look up to, and yes, even our long-lost relatives or friends that we just lost touch with.

But there’s always the other side of social media, the side that everyone seems to ignore just because the advantages seem to outweigh the negatives. The side that says you shouldn’t use the social web to supplement your social activities, but instead use it to complement them. The side that says this “passive consumption” is bad for you.

If you’re wondering by now, you should probably read the entire article by Stephen Marche, but I’ll quote him again anyway because it serves as a nice summary. (The article, if you’re wondering, is about whether Facebook makes us lonely, but most of the topics I’ve covered here are one and the same.)

LONELINESS IS CERTAINLY not something that Facebook or Twitter or any of the lesser forms of social media is doing to us. We are doing it to ourselves. Casting technology as some vague, impersonal spirit of history forcing our actions is a weak excuse. We make decisions about how we use our machines, not the other way around. Every time I shop at my local grocery store, I am faced with a choice. I can buy my groceries from a human being or from a machine. I always, without exception, choose the machine. It’s faster and more efficient, I tell myself, but the truth is that I prefer not having to wait with the other customers who are lined up alongside the conveyor belt: the hipster mom who disapproves of my high-carbon-footprint pineapple; the lady who tenses to the point of tears while she waits to see if the gods of the credit-card machine will accept or decline; the old man whose clumsy feebleness requires a patience that I don’t possess. Much better to bypass the whole circus and just ring up the groceries myself.

There’s some stuff in there that’s for another time, but for now, you’ll excuse me to post about how good — no, great! Fantastic, even! — my life is on all the social networks.

Up and Go

Alternate title: And Now, For Something Completely Different

Up and Go strawberry

Yes, I still have a few different posts in the cooker, all waiting for the right time to be written. Some days you just get a million and one thoughts on whatever random thought pops into your head, and sometimes, you feel like writing about exactly none of it. Such is life. Anyway…

You know how sometimes, looking at or doing something can evoke a memory from the distant past?

Yeah. I have one of those moments every time I see Up and Go.

For the uninitiated: Up and Go is like a drink, right. It’s made by the Sanitarium company, and it’s kinda like a liquid breakfast replacement, and it’s spectacularly delicious. Tastes kinda like sweetened soy milk, except it’s more viscous, having the same viscosity as, say, a slightly runny milkshake. It tastes like milk, for the most part, at least the kind of flavoured milk you buy in cartons. All up, it has a flavour and texture that’s uniquely hard to describe — it’s similar to a few things, but the same as none of them.

The packaging proudly proclaims that it has all kinds of things-that-are-supposed-to-be-good-for-you. It has protein! And it’s high in fibre! And it’s 98.5% fat free! I’m unsure about what kind of dietary benefits it actually provides, and as for it being a liquid breakfast… well, it does mean you can get up and go find a real breakfast, preferably in the trendiest little coffee shop you can find. It won’t give you wings or anything like that, but it is pretty tasty.

Far and away though, the thing I love most about Up and Go is the memory it evokes every time I see it in the supermarket, (inevitably) buy it, and then drink it. And you thought you lived a sheltered life: I was only introduced to this stuff way back in 2006!

I remember it clearly: we were on the Year 10 Outdoor Ed camp, a 5-day hike through some fantastic bushland (I forget where) with only what we had in our ruck. It was the third or fourth night when we camped right near a river, and one of my friends had this great Up and Go stuff. I mentioned I hadn’t tried it before, so she gave me one of hers. I read on the package that it was best served chilled, and it was either then that she or I came up with the idea to put it in the river overnight so it would be chilled by the next morning. I think it was mentioned half-jokingly, but being young and foolish I did so anyway…

The next morning, I awoke and eagerly went to check on my Up and Go so I could, you know, up and go for another long day of walking. It was then I discovered the Up and Go was very well chilled — I poked the included straw through the hole, and suddenly, tasted the most incredible beverage ever.

It was a fresh morning, but that was nothing compared to how intense this Up and Go was. From that point on, I was hooked — and now, every time I go interstate or house-sitting with friends, I try and track down a bottle or few boxes of Up and Go. That stuff is crazy good.

If you’re up for something new and have never tried Up and Go before, get a single box the next time you’re at the supermarket or at a corner shop. The 250ml package you see above comes in a 6-pack, but if you want just one hit, get the 750ml variety (I think). Enough to keep you up and going well past morning tea, at the very least…

Enjoy!

Inconsistent Application

Alternate title: The End

Well, ladies and gents, it’s been a good ride. Through thick and thin, you’ve successfully managed to ignore the vast majority of my posts on here, so I guess this is it. I am, of course, referring to the imminent demise of the Facebook Notes importer that works via RSS. If you’re reading this on Facebook, then this is probably the last post you’ll see from me for a long, long time — but if you’re reading this on my, you know, actual blog (www.bennylingbling.com for those playing at home), then you’re guaranteed the same sporadic posts that you’ve always had, with a money back guarantee! Okay, maybe not that last part. But still, random sporadic posts should be good enough for anyone, right?

What follows is a post that has had to be written for a while now…

Primary School

The year is 2001, and the Benny Ling you know is just 10 years old and in Year 5. He’s sitting in class, when suddenly, the teacher plonks down the marked copy of a previous maths test. He looks down, incredulous, at that red lettering: 100%. The perfect score.

I remember it like it was ten years ago. Sitting in class, when my teacher at the time hands back that maths test. It was on the decimal system, as I recall, fractions and that sort of stuff, and I managed to get 100% on it. The teacher exclaimed to the whole class that she had checked it thoroughly, twice, and that I had actually gotten 100% on a maths test. One of my favourite memories, and yet, my report for that year reads something like so:

“He is a very capable in all aspects of language and test results confirm this, yet work is sometimes presented at a standard below his best.”

“Benny’s work on his German project was most disappointing, far below the standard of which he is capable.”

I still have that maths test, somewhere.

Year 6 is perhaps even more eye opening, at least in terms of reports:

“In SOSE, which requires him to do research and put in considerable effort for a good result, he does not achieve as well as in other areas.”

And perhaps the most scathing comment of all:

“He is a very capable student, but often only does the minimum necessary, and homework is frequently not completed or of a standard well below his capabilities.” … “He is able to write for specific purposes but often does as little as possible.”

I was one of those students that always strived to finish first. One of those students that strived to be the best — but only at things I knew I could actually be the best at.

Secondary School

Fast forward a few years. The year is now 2004, and the Benny Ling you know is now a few years older, and perhaps even a few years wiser. He gets his Year 8 interim report, and that’s when it all starts to fall apart…

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Citizens, I need firepower!

You’ve seen Mulan, right? That one scene where Mushu dons a scary costume, jumps into a fireworks box, and asks the attendants for some serious firepower?

One of my many (varied) vices is that I’m a bit of a Nerf enthusiast. Only a little bit, mind you, but that’s enough.

I now own the vast majority of dart-firing Nerf N-Strike toy guns, and I can count the models of same that I don’t own on one hand. I’ve imported Nerf toy guns from the US (thanks Amazon!) to get them just that little bit earlier, and when I saw that Nerf had introduced some new, disc-firing weapons (the Vortex series), my curiosity was piqued.

That being that, and having just started holidays, I decided to acquire some of these disc-based toy guns. My usual source (Target) didn’t have any of the new disc-firing Vortex series, much to my disappointment, so I decided to venture out to Toyworld.

Bear in mind the last time I went out to Toyworld was easily 10+ years ago, back when I was a young ‘un. My church was not too far from there, and sometimes, after the service on Sundays, a friend and I would venture down and explore the sheer excitement that was the huge, massive assortment of toys.

I went back to Toyworld today, and it was like nothing had changed. Every wall was packed full of toys. LEGO. Assorted water and sporting goods. Model cars. Model trains. Toys for girls, toys for boys — and most of all, Nerf toys.

I picked up all three Nerf toys Ben Kuchera recommended in his piece for Ars: the Vortex Praxis, the Vortex Vigilon, and the Vortex Proton. I might have even picked up the full-auto Nitron, but Toyworld didn’t have stock. That particular model will just have to wait.

Vortex Praxis: love the shotgun action. Pump-action handle better and more comfortable than the similar style on the N-Stike Alpha Trooper, and the 10-disc clip ejects like the magazine of a real assault rifle. Totally my style, and very fun to use. Only downside is the slightly non-too-sturdy stock — two thin arms are all that support the buttstock.

Vortex Vigilon: five round, with the same cocking action as the N-Strike Maverick. Instead of a rotating barrel, the Vigilon has a sort of “chamber” where you slot discs in. It’s not bad, but I probably wouldn’t trade my modded Maverick for it.

Vortex Proton: single shot, single disc. I absolutely adore the loading mechanism on this: pull the tab, slot a disc into the slot that appears, then hit one of the “slide return levers”, which retracts the tab you pulled out, and readies the gun for firing, all with a satisfying noise and action. Yeah, it’s only single shot, but it’s really, really cool to use. Plus, it’s the most compact of the new Vortex series — perfect for execution-style killings.

Range on all three disc-firing Vortex blasters was much improved over their dart-based cousins. Where the darts have pretty severe “bullet drop”, the discs kind of “catch” the air. The downside of their epic range (roughly 1.5x that of my best N-Strike blaster, the Maverick) is that because the discs are spinning, their accuracy isn’t as great as the darts (and they don’t whistle, or glow in the dark, or stick to things). You could probably expect to (accurately) hit a human-sized target about 12, perhaps even up to 15 meters away, but then again, a dart could do that kind of distance as well.

My only other gripe with the new Vortex series is that they’re pretty darn bulky. I’m not quite sure if it’s a mechanism thing for the discs, or whether Hasbro are just going for a new style, but seriously, although some of the space in front of the trigger is where the discs are loaded, pretty much everything below the Vigilon text is empty. There’s no way the Vigilon needs all of the bulk in front of the trigger, and neither does the Proton. The width I get — the discs are about 5-6cm in diameter — but otherwise, I’m pretty sure all that bulk could be cut down a little.

Overall, these new disc-based Vortex blasters aren’t bad.

Now I have to hunt down some of those clip-based water pistols… but that’s for another time. 😉