Murder in High Definition - The Heavy Rain Diaries Pt.1

It was around eleven o'clock in the morning, sometime in mid March. Outside the sun was shining through bare winter branches for the first time in months. But although the weather was looking up I couldn't quite shift the dark clouds hovering over my head. Never mind, I was awake, shaved, and sober, and didn't care who knew it. So, when the bell rang I walked purposefully through the high-ceilinged hallway to the door, threw the bolts, and opened it up.

I stood and stared at a pair of grey eyes. They lived in a squat face attached to a stubby neck. Below lurked a brown uniform and black shoes. The eyes looked me up and down, darted back to a vehicle parked curbside, then settled back on mine. An arm extended slowly towards me, brown package in hand.

'Here you go...' he said.

'What's this?'

His eyes narrowed. He looked puzzled. I could tell he was thinking. And it hurt.

'You ordered it,' he said. 'You know what it is. Just take it. I can't hang around here, I got other stuff to do.'

I grunted, reaching for the package.

'Not so fast. I need something from you first.'

I shut the door when it was done. As I turned around I caught my reflection in the finger-smudged mirror. I looked alright, a bit weathered and used, but not so bad for a guy approaching forty. I scrubbed up good when I bothered to do the scrubbing.

I walked through the glass doors separating the hallway from the kitchen and found a vacant lot amidst debris on the table. I put the package down, then went to the refrigerator. As always it was bare. I pulled a milk container from the door and sniffed it. Satisfied, I poured a shot into a clean looking glass and headed back to the table.

I examined the package. He was right, I knew what it was, but did he? I'd heard the stories, I knew you sure as hell couldn't trust anyone in this town. But it was fine, he didn't know. He was just the delivery boy.

There was a knife on the table, half obscured by a magazine, left over from breakfast. It still had peanut butter on it but who cared? I licked the blade, weighed the handle in my right hand, then carved open the tape around the cardboard. As the package disintegrated it revealed what I knew it would: a black case with white writing, a shiny disc tucked safely inside.

I started back through the glass doors, down the hallway to the sitting room. As I opened the door I saw shards of sunlight streaming into the room, illuminating the layer of dust that had accumulated over a long winter, since the last time sunlight had shone here. Since those dark days in September had started me drinking and stopped me caring. But that's another story, and none of your business.

In the corner stood a handsome plasma television. It was probably the only decent piece of furniture this place had. Everything else was junk - dusty and frayed sofas with the life squeezed out of them, threadbare rugs, a table covered with endless rings from endless cups of coffee and glasses of wine. Underneath the TV sat a black console, the only other thing that didn't look like it belonged in a thrift store. I powered it up, took out the disc and put it in the drive, and waited.

There was whirring and clicking. Fans kicked in. After a while crystal clear images started to appear across the screen, accompanied by the familiar sound of heavy rain. A calm settled over me. This was the day I'd been waiting for. This was the start of something new. I closed the drapes and blocked out the sun...

And so it began. Murder in high definition.

To be continued...

(Please Note: this article is a factional diary entry that takes a considerable amount of artistic license with actual events. I don't even like milk.)

Learn to Speak Twitter. Or how I learned to stop shouting and listen every once in a while.

It's a dead give-away. Set up a Twitter account, and just above the sign-up button you'll find the words 'Join the Conversation'. It's a clue to the nature of the beast. Twitter is for communication. For sharing, for debate, for conversation. So why do so many use it as a megaphone? Why use networked media to broadcast?

I've become increasingly irritated by institutions and corporations that set up Twitter accounts, trumpet this 'innovation' through old media channels in an awkward attempt to show how 'with it' they are, then use it incorrectly and inefficiently. There are myriad examples across the globe but the one closest to home is my local authority, Norwich City Council.

Every few days some mandarin in City Hall is despatched along the lonely corridors to Social Media Operations, Room 101a. Here he/she finds the council's digital communications centre, a temple to new media. In pride of place beside the Fax machine a PC of indeterminate vintage is running Windows 95, hardwired into the heart of the information superhighway [sic]. Our part-time cyber-explorer taps out a self-congratulatory missive to all 789 followers along the lines of 'More ways to love Norwich', or 'Well done to our eco heroes', accompanied by a link to the Council's website. Then they embark on the long trek back to their real job. Done and dusted.

At least I hope that's what happens. Because if these tweets are produced by a dedicated and paid 'media professional', I want my council tax back. This broadcast media practice, shouting from the roof tops hoping a bored passerby pays attention, is not how to utilize social media. The point of Twitter is to engage in dialogue and share information, you can even expand the democratic franchise through it. But as yet I haven't seen one reply to a Norwich City Council follower, let alone a live vote on the colour of next year's Christmas lights. And after some rather cursory rooting about, I think I know why. Seven-hundred and eighty-nine people currently follow the council; how many do you think the council reciprocates to? You guessed it: Zero. Zip. Zilch.

Nice, eh? Anyone with even a fleeting knowledge of conversing in social situations understands that standing in the middle of a crowded space shouting "I'm bloody marvelous" whilst wearing industrial strength ear defenders is unlikely to win friends or influence people. Yet this is exactly what my local council are doing in a virtual space. McLuhan said the medium is the message; a new medium alters the way we live socially and how we interact within our societies. Consequently this is the most important thing about new media, not content. He also suggested that when new media appear those schooled in the proceeding media continue to apply old rules and practices. Sounding familiar?

Just think back to the early days of film, musicals and melodramas ruled the roost, adapted straight from the stage. Even many 1950s greats such as 'A Streetcar Named Desire' still feel like watching a play due to the theatrical conventions and aesthetics. Contemporaneously the same thing happens with digital games. Many game designers and critics obsess about storytelling and cinematic graphics; desperately applying the language of a previous medium to a new one. Games don't need to tell stories or look like films, they do need to provide space for participation and ultimately some enjoyment. In fact some of the most celebrated games have no story (Flower, Pong) and fairly poor graphics (Tetris, Defender, Space Invader). (And yes, I know they're old but graphics, like realism, is relative anyway). The fact that games can tell stories and look good is a boon but not a requirement.

What this tells us, to summarize Manovich, is that new media create new languages, each with its own rules and syntax. The advent of the printing press invented a new language of linear textual meaning creation, film did a similar thing as it developed its own visual language. Both of these mediums traditionally tend to be one-way communications, with film in particular becoming organized around a broadcast model. Networked social media has its own language too; in the case of Twitter this language relies on two-way discourse.

Here's the thing: if you're going to use Twitter, learn to speak it.

This Bird Is No More - The Death of Twitter.

This bird is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker.

With apologies to the Pythons, the above appears the current consensus on Twitter. Figures released this week show the microblogging service's growth stalling for another month in the US. This continues a trend of diminishing numbers since the high-water mark of 29 million in July 2009.

As usual there are myriad theories to why this might be. Mashable suggests four reasons why the bird could be feeling somewhat unusual:

1. Twitter’s growth isn’t stalling. Rather, these stats aren’t capturing Twitter users utilizing apps, a growing chunk of the Twitterverse.
   
2. Twitter itself has a limited appeal. Only a small amount of people “have something to say” on a consistent basis.
   
3. Twitter’s user retention rate is famously weak. The issue became public in April 2009, but has yet to be solved.
   
4. For many, Twitter hasn’t hit critical mass. Part of why people are on Facebook is because everybody else is on it. We may still be far away from that inflection point for the common Internet user.

Points one, three, and four make perfect sense. Most regular tweeters I know use third-party applications such as Tweetie or Tweetdeck to post. If the figures include only in-browser users, they should be considered unreliable at best. Also many acquaintances starting with Twitter often do seem to stop shortly after, normally stating they "...can't see the point. It's not like Facebook". (Although why Facebook might have more of a 'point' than Twitter is beyond me - unless of course the point is to get third-rate has-beens a Christmas Number One) Finally the critical mass thing. It's a cliche but people really are like sheep. If friends, everybody at work, the boy/girl they fancy, are on Twitter, then bingo! There in a heartbeat. Otherwise not really bothered, at least until somebody tells them they should be. Depressing isn't it?

But it's point two I find most interesting. Mashable suggests "...only a small amount of people have something to say on a regular basis". Really? These guys are obviously none too familiar with the average British pub on a Friday night, or even a sports bar in their local boonies on NFL Sunday. Perhaps the real point here is that only a small amount of people have something worthwhile to say on a regular basis? And this is where the Twitterverse puts off the casual user.

Twitter self-regulates. There's a kind of unspoken code: don't drone on about inane crap. Say something, share something, learn something. No-one cares what cornflakes you had for breakfast, how drunk you are, or about the intimate details of your mid-life crisis. It's not Facebook, where this kind of prattle is actively encouraged by stupid applications telling you how much you owe for a misspent youth, or encouraging deep-seated delusions of becoming the next Vito Corleoene. I've seen many Tweeters castigate users for being boring, whiney, or just plain stupid. In fact the whole Stephen Fry debacle was really caused by one Tweeter rather innocuously stating that the National Treasure's Tweets were sometimes just an incy wincy bit (looks furtively around) boring.

Now I'm not saying there isn't any crap on Twitter. No siree. There's plenty of discussing celebrities, reality television, pop music, digital games, and loads of other stuff many consider pointless. But this, whether snobs like it or not, is the culture that surrounds us. And I love it. Furthermore, the Tweeted discussions constitute an entertaining discourse on that culture, often more insightful than views of overpaid, over-opinionated critics for some newspaper or TV channel (Charlie Brooker excepted). But even if popular culture isn't your bag, fear not, for every discussion of X Factor there's another about the nature of democracy, climate change, or the future of the web. Some of us even read/write both.

Twitter is a wonderful thing. It contributes to a core Western democratic ideal, a right taken for granted by most of us everyday: the freedom of speech. Even more than its value as a populist yet ultra-contemporary virtual Library of Congress this means Twitter should, even must, survive. At least until something better replaces it.

I think the demise rumours are seriously exaggerated. Interestingly, whilst figures have flatlined in the US, the amount of users in other nations is showing a healthy increase. Everyday millions of Tweeters around the globe spread new knowledge and most importantly have their say about everything from solar power to Simon Cowell. They will continue to do so.

You should too. Just remember, not a word about cornflakes.