What to Expect When You're Expecting

In the last year, I heard a story on NPR that made the argument that people tend to enjoy a story more when they already know the ending (the example used was “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson, in which the ending is a complete reversal from the first part of the story). This baffled me completely. In an age where finding out the ending to a new movie or book is as easy as reading the Wikipedia summary, is it possible that people now find endings meaningless? I mean, you can hardly read an online review without seeing an obnoxious “SPOILERS!!!1!!” tag. But on the Internet, people are infuriated when they accidentally read about a twist. So the sides must be split.

The basis for the argument is that when we know what is coming, it makes the journey to get there more special. Sort of like when a suspenseful moment rises in a horror movie, there is no surprise, but the excitement is still heightened. Sort of. I find it hard to believe that knowing (<spoiler> “Vader is Luke’s father” </spoiler>) in 1980 would have made Empire more enjoyable. It’s called ruining the plot for a reason. But, hey, I guess times change.

I got to thinking about this claim and realized that it is not an easy thing to prove. You cannot experience the same movie twice, once knowing the ending and once not knowing, so you would have no way of comparing the two experiences. Two people--one who has not seen the film, another who has--cannot compare their experiences; one person might simply like the movie better. It is a qualitative judgement call, anyway. There really is no good way to compare how enjoyable some piece of entertainment is based solely on knowing or not knowing the ending. But still, the question bothered me. For me, the best way to go about looking at this is to simply ruin the ending to a movie, short story, or video game. Then, hopefully, I would have some better understanding of this absurd claim.

Needless to say: warning, spoilers ahead.

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I found the perfect movie to test this hypothesis, and you are going to laugh at it. I realized that I was the last person on Earth in 2015 who had not seen The Sixth Sense. I know what you’re thinking: that movie came out 15 years ago, and everyone saw it. A few people might even swear they saw it with me, but I have no recollection of it. It was the movie that established M. Night Shymalan as the king of suspenseful twists, a title he promptly lost in the years to come. It was one of the most talked-about movies of the time. I just never got around to it. I’ve been busy.

Of course, it is impossible to get to this point, even having not seen the movie to know the iconic line, “I see dead people.” So, I surmised what this meant in the context of what I knew about the film, and then read through a plot summary of the whole film. Generally, I had the main points correct. All I needed to see now was the execution.

With the details fresh in mind, I watched through the movie and truly enjoyed myself. I picked up on subtle hints about Bruce Willis’s character, because I was acutely looking for them. The discreet hints were a little more obvious, but I appreciated them in the way you feel upon rewatching a movie. And still, the intense moments were no less intense because I knew what would happen. I was watching a movie for the second time without having seen it the first time.

In the end, I obviously can’t say whether or not I would have liked the movie better if I was going in blind. On the contrary, the first time I watched Memento, I went in without knowing a thing about it, and had to watch it again immediately after finishing it. So, maybe there are really no ways to ruin a well-made, suspenseful film. All I can say is that fifteen years later, The Sixth Sense still holds up as a fine movie. I would give it a belated positive review, but you’ve already seen it, probably more than once.

In Defense of Achievements

In the last generation of consoles, video game players saw the rise of in-game achievements. At the time of their introduction (around 2005 or ‘06), they became popular, almost unbelievably so. So popular that users would go through nefarious hoops to accomplish these tasks just so that they were displayed on a profile. In recent years, appreciation for trophies or achievements has become more or less divided. Some people still obsess over maxing out their score; others could not care less.

So what are achievements, and why do they matter (or not)? Ostensibly, they are minor awards given to the player for accomplishing certain feats in video games. Microsoft debuted the concept with the releases for its console, the Xbox 360. PC games, including many on the Steam and Blizzard platforms, added them soon after, with Sony following suit in 2009 with trophies on the Playstation 3. While trophies did not have points associated with them, they did introduce a Platinum-level for getting 100% of the trophies in the game. It is a good way for developers to observe exactly how many players buying the game actually complete goals. Only Nintendo consoles do not have an established achievement-like system¹. For the vast majority, these awards have absolutely no effect on the game itself; they are merely for a player to display on his or her profile.

Despite having no discernible value, for whatever reason, these became incredibly popular. When Xbox achievements unlock, an addictive “pop” sound accompanies them that elicits a near Pavlovian response in players. It is exciting to play through a game and have notifications as you complete an especially difficult task. Players would trade games to boost their scores or rent games with especially easy points. Gaming websites in the mid-2000s ran articles about the “10 easiest games to 1000 points!” ranking the quickest ways to get the then-maximum amount of awards. Then, players would seek to gain them with questionable motives. Tamer players wanting to “cheat” could play some games with their friends offline; the more hardcore cheaters actually unlocked achievements by unlawfully manipulating the data. For a short time, the achievements seemed more popular than the games themselves.

There is quite a wide range of tasks required to unlock the award, but most games will follow certain rules in achievement development. Story driven games will often have achievements for each mission or chapter completed. Also common are exploration goals, encouraging users to go out and find new locations. Sports games feature tiered achievements, like scoring so many points against the other team. Then there are online multiplayer tasks, as in bringing down 100 aliens with a certain weapon. Obviously, tasks vary by skill and are awarded as such. For example, most people will get the five points for completing a tutorial, but very few will get the fifty points for finishing a game without failing once.

Almost as quickly as they rose to popularity, they became passé. The many people illegally acquiring achievements were banned, but their actions still devalued the concept and people seemed to start realizing how they were actually quite worthless. There has never been a great way to look at your aggregate awards and compare them with friends, like a social network. Nearly every game that comes out today still has the same amount of achievements, but mostly gone are the hunters who work to gain every single award.

As I said, there is a fairly divided split in the favor of achievements. The pragmatic side sees achievements for what they truly are: meaningless and almost totally unrelated to the game’s experience. It is possible to play through the game and have a great time doing it without ever noticing a trophy unlock. Nintendo proves this quite well. Super Mario Galaxy is still a perfect game without an achievement for each unlocked planet². The other side views achievements as the most important part of the gameplay experience. Don’t start a game if you can’t finish raise your completion ratio³! Nothing matters as long as you have more points than your friends! It doesn’t matter if you don’t like a certain mission: you have to do it nineteen more times to get the award! Of course, I’m exaggerating, but the point is, you either like achievements or you don’t care about them.

That is why I feel like the worst an achievement can possibly be is just pointless enough to inspire apathy. Like many people, I was very big into gathering achievements in the mid-2000s. In fact, I used to be too much into them. I definitely participated in matches where players were working together just to accomplish the inane tasks required. Embarrassingly, I might have even chose to play one game over the other simply because of the achievements. I have gotten much more realistic about them since then, but I still maintain that they are great for games.

On the contrary, the best kinds of achievements inspire new ways to play a game. If you generally play a game in one style, an achievement might make you go out and try new combinations of weapons or skills. Exploration tasks might send you out to new locations you wouldn’t have discovered otherwise. Some other awards may get you to play the game again at a higher difficulty. So while I still get a sense of enjoyment from seeing the announcement that I’ve unlocked a goal, and I still strive to gather as many as I can, I treat them as a fun side effect to the larger overall enjoyment of the game.

Trophies and achievements may not be that important to every person who plays a game, but they are not going away. If nothing else, they provide new reasons to dig further into games. I’m sure I’m not the only player who still looks over the achievement list before I start playing. It gives the player a list of goals to do that is, by definition, achievable. Even if some of them seem impossible. Happy hunting!

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1 I should take this opportunity to highlight an amazing website called Retro Achievements. It allows users to play through emulated versions of their own classic games with user-created achievements. It gives a great new reason to replay through classic games. And it does include Nintendo games.^↩
2 Although isn’t it fun to dream up trophies for 100 Skulltulas in Ocarina of Time, every Pokemon in Red/Blue, or escaping Zebes in less than a minute in Super Metroid?^↩
3 Completion ratio is, of course, the percentage of achievements unlocked. Unabashedly, I still care a little bit about my ratio.^↩

Do Three Stars Equal a 6.0?

When I finish a book or movie or CD or game, one of my first thoughts is, of course, processing how I felt about it. Did I like it? Would I like to experience it again? How would I compare it to others? Quite often for me, this boils down to a single rating, which somewhat reductively describes my experience with the item. In this way, I can look back later and remember first, if I’ve already done something (read that book, for example), and second, did I enjoy it? One concept I struggle with, however, is the multitude of rating systems. You have stars, half-stars, 10-point scales, 100-point scales, and many others.

Somewhat obsessively, I like to catalog what I’ve experienced. I have multiple accounts that track my music listened, games played, movies watched, books read, and so on. I like to go back and look at what I’ve accomplished. It’s also a good way to compare artistic tastes with friends. Most often, the best way to track this kind of information is by assigning it a rating, and as we know, rating systems can vary wildly.

The confusion of different systems arises because so many publications try to utilize unique ways of reviewing items. Websites and magazines that review products are in constant competition for views. Numeric ratings are often used in conjunction with a longer written review, obviously far more informative. Longer reviews, however, have the larger problem that most people would rather look at the number without digging into the article. Personally, I glance through a review only when I’m interested in the item in question. So, the rating system is a quick way to grab attention for the item.

I have had many debates with friends about what is the most effective system. Largely, these discrepancies revolve around the degrees with which items can be assigned. Five stars obviously gives five levels of definable quality; a 100-point scale gives 101 levels (including 0). As you can see, these get more precise with more levels. My personal preference falls somewhere in between.

100-point scales are a bit excessive. Though they carry a sense of scientific nature, it is mostly impossible to assign a sense of value with so many options. Questions arise like: is a 68 really better than a 66? These statements are obviously impossible to discern. However you feel about aggregate sites like Metacritic, these actually are take an average rating based on a collection of ratings and you can actually explore the differences between a 66 and a 68. But in the end, there is not much of a difference.

Ten stars is tricky. It gives twice as many choices as five stars, but not nearly as many as 100. In this way, we can get more specific responses, without getting ludicrously deep into ratings that differ by 2%. But I have issues with 10-point scales as well. Although I like the scaling, there is an inherent nature of interpreting quality, where any rating below about a 6 is considered ‘below average.’ Perhaps it is largely a problem in the U.S.--where a 60% is generally considered failing in the education system--but this has an enormous effect on how we comprehend low scores. Because of what we (at least in the U.S.) have learned, even something that earns 7 stars is considered mediocre.

The argument for five stars is a good one. The best way I have heard it described is that three stars is average with two levels above average and two below. I believe this is the most popular preference because it is most akin to how we think about quality. Was it very good? Five stars. Just okay? Two stars. The ease of use with a rating system like this makes it easily translatable. Furthermore, three stars is perceived as a better rating than a 60 out of 100. My issues with this system is that there is just not enough to differentiate from other ratings. I don’t enjoy every four-star item the same way; some are better than others. This is why I believe the best way to rate includes five stars with half stars.

I’ve been told that my issue with half stars is that I compare items against each other too much. Simply because I enjoyed something more than another is not reason enough to assign it a higher rating. I acknowledge that this is an issue, but I can’t help it. It’s only natural to compare media, so why wouldn’t you want to say something deserves a higher rating than something else? To me, half stars is as granular as I need to be to denote how I feel about a piece of entertainment.

Obviously, the rating is totally dependent on the rater. I know when it means when I’ve given something four stars, but I also know what it means when I assign something a 7 out of 10. The rating doesn’t matter; it’s how you ultimately felt about the item in question.

A Comment About Comments

The Internet is a great place for millions of users to come together and share ideas. The network allows for more interconnectedness than television, radio, or any other technology before. Anyone can share their creations. It is easier than ever to find someone who connects with an interest and have a dialogue with that person. Evidently, it is also very easy to display strong attitude, sometimes with hatred towards a person or group. I’m speaking, of course, of comments.

Scroll down to the bottom of most web pages and you will find the comments section. Some of them are blocked by login information while others require Google or Facebook verification, but the infamous ones have seemingly no rules and anyone can post whatever they want under the guise of “anonymous.” If you’ve spent any amount of time on the Internet, you have probably heard it before: “Don’t read the comments!”¹ Ostensibly, this section is a place for users to reflect knowledgeably upon what they have just read or watched. But it is not uncommon for this to devolve into rabid spewing of inappropriate or offensive speech almost completely unrelated to the original content. This is a problem.

Some websites are built entirely on the premise that sane folks can have a reasonable discussion in comments. And these can be successful because of the community that builds around the discussion. Based on the traditional sense of a public assembly, Internet ‘forums’ allow people to virtually gather and discuss a range of topics. These are the very best examples of comments on the Internet, as they allow like-minded people to be together. As the community grows, inflammatory commenters are excised. The opposite of this strict self-policing is a sort of free-for-all where people are rude almost immediately. YouTube is a notorious example, where commenters can be outright abusive. I’m just going to vent a bit, so if you want to skip the next two paragraphs, that’s okay.

Why do these kinds of people do this? What gives them the right to trash an otherwise fine piece of content? These are both difficult questions to answer, but one short, acceptable answer is that our freedom of speech extends to cover ideas stated on the Internet. People feel that they have the power to say whatever they wish, and that others need to listen to them. To an extent, this is true: all of us on the Internet have an equal voice. But these people are also wrong. Just because hate-speeches are widely publicized, this does not make them right or even popular. Even online, ignorant speech is still ignorant. And hateful people are still idiots.

Another obvious answer to the question, is that commenters can hide behind anonymity. A cowardly person can say whatever they want if their name is not directly to the left. There is nothing to risk by antagonizing others. Unless there is a some kind of thumbs down feature, that comment will exist as long as people respond to it. Which is, of course, the improper way to deal with “trolls” on the Internet. The best thing to do is let them say what they will and ignore it. Or read it and laugh at them inwardly because you are better than them². Either will suffice.

ANYWAY, I’m done with the negativity. Here is an absolutely radical theory: is it possible that comments are actually a positive force on the Internet? I might go so far as to suggest that they have become a part of the original content. Is that too much? For better or for worse, I believe our experiences are shaped by external opinions. I might think differently about a video after having read a comment about it. This might be a sad way to look at it, because it implies we cannot arrive at opinions on our own. That’s not really what I mean. I’d like to think browsing comments give us different avenues of thought from which to compare. I came to this realization while reading a library book in which another reader had written some notes in the margins of the book. It occurred to me that this marginalia really was affecting how I was reading the book.

As an undergraduate, I’m sure I remember a philosopher positing that a piece of literature is only half produced by the author. The other half is from the reader and the experiences they bring to the reading. This implies that every book is different for every reader any given time they read it. This also suggests that comments play a significant role in our comprehension of the work. For instance, if I read a news article online that particularly fascinates me, I purposely scroll through the top dozen or so comments, just to gauge the reactions of others. And yes, this affects my reading of the article. Therefore, I think that comments have slowly become part of the entire piece.

Basically, be careful with comments. They might have more of an effect than you think. It does not make sense to merely post that you don’t like something. Disagreeing with the content or another poster without providing any reasoning whatsoever does not add anything substantial to the conversation. Thoughtful is always best in comments.

So, what do you think? Are comments meaningless addendum to online publications, or should they be taken more seriously? Let me know what you think below.

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1 There are myriad hilarious examples of these types of messages online that spoof the ridiculous nature of comments. Sometimes, though, the parodies are more accurate than they should be.^↩
2 In fact, I do get some enjoyment out of reading bad comments because some people are so laughably dense.^↩

Just Don't Call It a "Rock Opera"

I hate the term “rock opera.” Granted, I probably thought it was cool the first time I heard it, but it did not take long for the stupidity of the name to sink in. I mean, what does that name accomplish? It’s rock music, sure. So, because the songs have a related theme, it’s becomes an opera? The opera is not music’s equivalent to the short story collection. It simply does not make sense. And I try not to even think about the next iteration: the “hip-hopera.” Awful. Just awful. Call them by their more elegant names “concept albums,” please, regardless of how pretentious you will sound. Anyway, I hate the term as much as I love the thing itself. That’s right: I adore “concept albums.”

Even though most (if not all) concept albums come off as comical or mediocre, I find them immensely enjoyable. Music is not notoriously known for telling an engaging story, but just the hint of a deeper meaning is enough for me to listen that much more intently, to try to find that glimmer. And usually, as the story unfolds, I find myself thinking that the story would be barely passable in a movie or story. I always convince myself, though, that it works in this context. I give albums with a message the benefit of the doubt that I certainly don’t give to books. I think that’s what makes concept albums so interesting to me--I’m willing to fully buy into a story even if it is basically garbage.

Sometime, somewhere, a person was tired with making individual songs, so they focused on creating a story using the full hour of an album. It was probably Sinatra, so it was probably very good¹. This caught on, and now we have new concept albums fairly regularly. The unification of a collection that was formerly unrelated is the same reason I love short stories that function together. I cannot always defend the story itself, but the idea is an attractive one to me. Regardless of how ridiculous the message almost always turns out to be (usually involving an oppressed young person), I can make the excuse, “At least they are trying it.”

Personally, I get something more out of listening to an entire album as opposed to individual songs. There is something to be said about an artist establishing an order to which their songs should be listened. In most cases, an album just seems to be the proper way to listen to all of the songs. A concept album is the extended form of this, as the songs tell a story and need to be listened to in a set order. I’ll briefly go through some of the most famous examples, as well as some of my favorites.

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1969 - Probably the first and possibly the most famous concept album, The Who’s Tommy presents a deaf, dumb, and blind boy who grows up in the 1920s. Most people know of the character’s prowess as a pinball player, but the album goes into more of his experiences with his family, dealing with difficult topics such as abuse. The album is also The Who’s first foray into concept albums, as they returned to format in 1973 with Quadrophenia.

1979 - If not for Tommy, Pink Floyd’s The Wall would be unquestionably the most famous concept album, and it probably does the best job in storytelling. It tackles the emotional problems of the protagonist, Pink, in ways that some novels can’t approach. It was turned into a successful, albeit disturbing film three years later in 1982, and the show was still performed for decades by Roger Waters, who wrote the album. Like The Who, this is not Pink Floyd’s only example of a concept album, but it is certainly the most clear and the most profound.

1984 - I might be cheating here by using a soundtrack to a movie, but, honestly, Prince’s music of Purple Rain is the important part of the movie, not the story. And the music is really incredible, probably Prince’s best material. It may still be considered a concept album, in my opinion, because it does tell a ludicrous futuristic love story.

2000 - In what could be the very first “hip-hopera,” the rap supergroup consisting of Del the Funky Homosapien, Dan the Automator, and Kid Koala released the album, Deltron 3030. Set a millenia in the future, the rappers need battle dangerous robots in space. If it sounds ridiculous, it is. It’s also great. And there are some good messages and themes present as well.

2004 - I have an unreasonable love for Green Day’s American Idiot, and I would defend it as one of the band’s best albums. It is an album I can sing (and occasionally have sung) every word along with the band. The music is intense, and the lyrics have moments of brilliance, even if they beat the listener over the head in blatant political overtones. Even though I realize that the story isn’t great, I’ve been championing a movie since the album’s release. It came out at just the right time for me and will always be one of my favorites.

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There are several more I could have listed here that are just as good, but there are really too many to mention. It seems like albums that tell a story are becoming more and more prevalent. This is a cool thing. I realize the stories of concept albums can sometimes be lacking, and the music isn’t always great, but I am always excited about the possibilities. It just gives more of a reason to sit down with an album and have an experience. Just as the artist intended.

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1 In fact, some say In the Wee Small Hours was the first concept album. So, yeah, that’s a pretty high standard to meet.^↩