NES Knitting machine. Promotional flyer from Howard Phillips, who worked for Nintendo from 1981 to 1991.
Via duduadudua

Where in Space is Carmen Sandiego?

porpentine:

HOWLING DOGS SWEEPS THE INDIE GAMES FESTIVAL AWARDS

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW ON THIS SHOCKING VICTORY

a comic about a dream

foxski:

“The Human Rights Campaign asked us to take down our trans* flag because ‘marriage equality is not a transgender issue.’

They said this to one of our activists as well as a transgender person who held the flag. We stood our ground, and flew our flag proudly.

That flag flew behind the podium ALL day today, keep an eye for it on the news.”

This apparently happened twice. Well done, HRC. Well done. But I’m not allowed to be critical of your campaign. Get the fuck out of here.

This past Saturday I participated in an event called the Transgender Day of Visibility at the DeFrank Center here in San Jose. Part of the event was showcasing art by transgender artists, and for the second year in a row the organizer Lance Moore asked me to curate a selection of video games made by trans* indies. This year, along with Lim by Merritt Kopas and my own Sweet Nothings collection, I decided to set up a computer loaded with text-based adventure games made in Twine. We wound up with a collection of 23 games by 10 authors, covering adventure games, personal stories, poetry, porn, and at least one simulation of being devoured by a computer. The games all run in a web browser, so you can play them yourself right now:

Big thanks to Porpentine for helping me assemble the collection.

Robotron: 2084 (NA)


Robotron: 2084 (NA)


Robotron: 2084 (NA)

Robotron: 2084 VS. Robotron: 2084 VS. Robotron: 2084, 1983/91

futureshipwreck:

I have always been aware of people making faces, commenting and laughing at me about my size. I now reverse the gaze and record their reactions to me while I perform mundane tasks in public spaces.

from the series Wait Watchers
by Haley Morris-Cafiero 

via Beautiful/Decay

sloaneshutup:

chromatic slime princess

feels no remorse

in all her goo glory

“You’re not at GDC! Enjoy yourself anyway, somehow!” — March 13, 2010

Noyb’s remarks: “The perfect encapsulation of being stuck at home, compulsively finding out about the amazing stuff happening at the Game Developer’s Conference through Twitter.”

[Download (PC 64-bit)] [Download (PC 32-bit)]

(from Be an Interplanetary Spy 12: Skystalker, 1985)

deadskeleton:

Don’t Look A Gif Horse In The Mouth

emilyaldenfoster:

How to Make an Origami Crane (2013)

You’ll probably only have to watch this 700 billion times to figure it out. These things really just fold themselves, though, so don’t even worry about it.

ella guro - triad theme

this is my track from anna anthropy’s just released game Triad, available here: http://www.auntiepixelante.com/?p=1969

 **Trigger warning for violence**

Credit: Atlanta Blackstar

 

I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around the situation with Kimani Gray, but it just doesn’t make sense. I mean, considering the unceasing frequency of U.S. American police brutality, the story is “simple” enough. Ten days ago, sixteen-year-old Kimani, known as KiKi to his loved ones, was out late, returning from a gathering. While out in East Flatbush, Brooklyn, Kimani and his friends were approached by two men, apparently plainclothes undercover police officers with records of brutality and excessive force, who sidled up in an unmarked van. While those close to Kimani claim the youth was simply adjusting his belt or waistband, the police have claimed that Kimani pulled out a .38, which caused the officers to unload eleven rounds of ammunition into his body, killing him there in the street.

Credit: Todd Maisel/New York Daily News

 

Simple, right? Not even close.

For every Black and Brown person I’ve spoken with, this is so clearly another example of our communities’ ever increasing militarization that not only marks our bodies as inherently deviant and always guilty, but that is also hell bent on killing and/or imprisoning our people with impunity.

Although they are little more than half the population of New York, African Americans and Latinos were subject to almost 90% percent of the incidences of stop-and-frisk in the city in recent years. Stop-and-frisk policies are not only morally unsound, but statistics have clearly shown that they are also expensive and inefficient. The New Yorker reports “As for the effectiveness of stop-and-frisk, since Bloomberg doubled down on the program, in 2002, murder attempts, robberies, and assaults have fallen by less than one per cent. Arrests are made in about six per cent of the stops, and a firearm is found in about one per cent” (Source). Likewise, Vincent Warren notes:

Every first-year graduate student learns that correlation does not prove causality, but the NYPD routinely claims that the city’s falling crime rates are caused in part by their stop-and-frisk practices. There is not a single published study providing evidence for this claim. The truth is that no one knows what has caused the city’s drop in crime, but given the fact that only 6% of stops result in arrest and the vast majority of these are for so-called quality of life violations, it seems improbable, to say the least, that crime rates are going down because of stop and frisk. (Source)

Then again, cost is no object in a police state, right?

 

Credit: Atlanta Blackstar

 

 

Credit: Colorlines

 

Reading about Kimani’s story, takes me back to my own youth in Fort Lauderdale, Florida where I witnessed police negligence and violence firsthand. While they could never be counted on to come when someone was going upside your head or stealing someone’s car, they for damn sure would show up and show out in other moments, making my already unsafe hood even less safe. I learned to be more afraid of the police than my dopefiend neighbor who bashed my bedroom window open to steal or the pimps that stood just outside the gate of middle school everyday at 3pm. They were treacherous, but I knew how to deal with them. But the police—they were a wild card. They could come into your house, disrespect you, put their hands on you, talk to you any kind of way, and you’d just be standing there contemplating the virtues of taking a cast iron frying pan to their skulls but remembering your duty to your family.  But, for some people, sometimes that cast iron pan would win.

 

Twenty years ago, something happened with the police that I’ll never forget. I was an eighth grader, walking home from school. A big crowd had gathered to watch two girls, two of my classmates in fact, tussle. These sisters were rolling around and around in the dirt. Look, I wasn’t a fool. I wasn’t really trying to be all up in this altercation, but the crowd was so big that I couldn’t get through or around it. So I watched, shaking my head, knowing that one girl was jealous of another and that some knucklehead dude was at the center of this drama. It wasn’t until they separated that I saw how horrible the fight had been. The sister that initiated the fight had carried a razor blade in her mouth and sliced the other girl on her face and neck. This young sister stumbled past me, her face and neck swollen and bloodied, her white t-shirt splattered with her own blood.

 

I could not believe my own eyes. I had just watched someone get stabbed. I was appalled. I was disgusted. I was worried for my classmate. Would she bleed to death? (She did, in fact, live). She lived a block away from me, but despite her injuries, seemed to be making a defiant walk home. I looked around to see if anyone was there to help. There were mostly other teens like myself, standing there with a mixture of curiosity, disbelief, and horror.

 

Then, I spotted the police. They had been in the background all along. I mean, they were always there along my route home, apathetic observers that never stopped when drug transactions were made brazenly, out in the open or when twelve-year-old girls were propositioned for sex in broad daylight. But on that day, they really jumped the shark. As I scanned the crowd, looking for an adult to help—my go to adult helper has always been older Black women—I saw the police pointing and laughing at my bloodied classmate. I’m not talking about a nervous giggle or an uncomfortable chuckle, but some of that old bent over, clutching your stomach, and wiping your eyes kind of laughter. Rather than going to the aid of an injured young woman (who was wounded by another injured young woman), these fools were laughing. It was as if we were all slaves in a Roman gladiator’s ring, killing each other for their amusement. The image of their laughter haunts me to this day.

 

Years later, when I read Toni Morrison’s Beloved in college, I came across this line that has stayed with me, haunting me, ever reminding me of the constant dehumanization Blacks endure under white supremacy. After the novel’s protagonist, Sethe, is abused by the whites that run her plantation, she remembers, “they handled me like I was the cow, no, the goat, back behind the stable because it was too nasty to stay in with the horses.” I felt that way, felt that way for my classmate, on the day I saw her stabbed and no one rushed to help her.

 

So, when reports allege that Kimani Gray pulled a .38 on the admittedly plainclothes officers, I do not think of black-on-black crime or an out of control urban Black youth population that are menaces to society. I think of a kid who lived in a war zone, a kid who could not only not count on those who vow to protect and serve to do either of those things, but who could also expect the police to be the major perpetrators of state sanctioned terrorism.

 

Let me be clear. I do not think systemic violence is strategy that is going to liberate our communities. And I do not actually think Kimani had a weapon. However, I would understand why a kid would think he was in danger if two random dudes rolled up on him in a car and jumped out yelling. And I do understand the pain, anger, and frustration the protestors in East Flatbush have been expressing. And I wish that stories like this were not a constant unbroken loop in our communities, continually traumatizing us into silence and submission.

 

What are your thoughts on the situation surrounding Kimani Gray and his murder?

 

Credit: WNYC/Stephen Nessen

ちっちゃいのと大きいの / big and small

IRL!

(from Grail Quest #8: Legion of the Dead, 1987)

11200:

Goulart, Ron - WIldsmith 1972

 
WebFire!

comics-to-read:

starwench:

IT’S REAL NOW. THE BOOK IS HUGE AND BEAUTIFUL. CLICK PICTURES FOR BIGS. IT SHOULD BE AVAILABLE ON MONDAY, MARCH 18. HERE’S THE AMAZON LINK. PREPARE TO DIE

CHOOSE YOUR OWN DEATH 

Yeahhh! I got to touch a copy and it looks so good!

It’s a CYBERPUNK HACKING GAME with COMPLICATED RESOURCE MANAGEMENT and LONG-TERM DECISIONS.

Some explanation if you’re finding it too confusing:
– Arrow keys move, moving towards an enemy attacks it.
– You pick up resources from tiles by using DATA SIPHON, which are the smiley faces you collect.
– Siphoning floor tiles gives credits or energy, which are spent to activate programs.
– Siphoning wall tiles gives programs or points.
– The red number on a wall is how many enemies will appear when you siphon it.
- Mouse-over walls/programs to see what they do.
– Click programs (on the right sidebar) to activate them. – [Author's description]

[Windows Download]
[Mac Download]

ブレブレ宮殿 / shaky shaky palace

Lost Levels is a hyper-inclusive "unconference" about games and play that is FREE to attend, open to all, and anyone can run a session. It takes place Thursday afternoon of GDC week, in San Francisco. I'm co-running it with Harry Lee, Ian Snyder, and Fernando Ramallo.

I don't know about the others, but the main motivation to organize this, for me, was about imagining an alternate world. Yes, GDC conference sessions are fun, but they're really just an excuse for us all to get together and hang out, and we need a giant conference to motivate us all to fly over and converge in one place.

At its core, it's all about hanging out with people and enjoying each other. Everything else is just a fun ritual to facilitate that. But many people don't have GDC passes -- so what happens to them? The ritual isn't as fun if it prevents people from joining.

Our community will, inevitably, be incredibly diverse, chaotic, and messy. We should embrace the messiness and accept that diversity, and strive to lower barriers.

Please visit the site for more details and sign-up if you'd like to attend or give a talk or run a coloring session or dance it out to Tetris music or eat sandwiches. Thanks.

(from Fighting Fantasy #10: House of Hell, 1984)

Merlot et dieeeeeeeeeeee….

Someone’s got a grudge against you at the club, and everyone knows it. - [Author's description]

[Play Online]

Emoticons/emojis created by overlyaing several text characters on top of eachother. These instructions are from 1976, and might have been around as early as 1972.

This technique was possible on the amazing 1970s PLATO computer, and probably never again after that? You could also move the text-chars around on a pixel level. Pictures/info from platopeople.com.

How were these things done? Well, on PLATO, you could press SHIFT-space to move your cursor back one space — and then if you typed another character, it would appear on top of the existing character. And if you wanted to get real fancy, you could use the MICRO and SUB and SUPER keys on a PLATO keyboard to move up and down one pixel or more — in effect providing a HUGE array of possible emoticon characters.

JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS is a minigame collection created for my Latin III class! – [Author's description]

[Windows Download]