Now you’re writing 12-page papers with portals

My research paper on Valve’s Portal is now online. As of this writing, there are still a few typos that need to be corrected, but hopefully the formatting is done. And if anyone objects during the critique today, then whatever.

Honestly, though, the site was surprisingly tricky to program. I’ve only barely gotten it to be stable in Internet Explorer, Netscape, and Firefox. I can’t guarantee the same if you’re plying these waters with some other rust-bottomed schooner. At the very least, the navigation bar will cease to be pretty.

Anyway, those last few corrections should be up by Wednesday. It’s mandated by federal law.

Hey, look at what I found

This could only interest other people in my class, and even then perhaps only marginally, but here goes. You know these blog assignments? Apparently they stick around for awhile. Here’s Brian Belida’s blog all the way back from 2005, which roughly puts it in the late Precambrian, I believe.

I mean, just look at it. Masculinities? Fandom? I can barely recognize this class. In fact, I think it was probably taught by Panek for all I can tell.

In other news, I’m at work now – yes, on a Friday night. I’m bored out of my mind and would very much like not to be here.

(Also, feeling extremely anxious about the results of the Department Honors presentation I gave a couple hours ago and the Iconographic Argument I showed off not long before that. I should have known a satiric argument with rhythmically-placed juxtapositioned counterpoints would be more trouble than it’s worth.)

Masculinities on the Web

Our latest reading assignment was an article called “Masculinities on the Web” by Ross Horsley. I admit to being a bit put-off by the subject matter (in the interest of honesty, I’ve always found gender studies to be profoundly boring), but I was pleasantly surprised by the author’s take on the matter. Horsley basically argues that in today’s pluralistic society – a complexity only compounded by the prevalence of online communication – traditional concepts of masculinity are seemingly being eroded. In place of a monolithic, socially and culturally-mandated sense of gender identity, more and more men are learning to be reflexive about “masculinity,” to rely more on personal analysis and come up with a more individual response to what it means to be a man. This, in turn, leads to a greater sense “self-awareness,” “personal freedom,” and other Things That Are Good. I suppose that’s about as encouraging a sign as you could hope for.

But how exactly is this panning out online? As per the assignment’s stipulations, I glanced at a few of the sites that Horsley mentioned in his study, and for the most part, I think there’s a lot out there to validate his claim. Manhood Online did not stray far from Horsley’s characterization (it is zealously positive about capital-M manhood), but it nonetheless represents a clear challenge to the mainstream notion of “masculine” as a sort of synonym for “neanderthal.” Through shared anecdotes and discussion, Manhood Online is trying to paint a kinder, gentler version of masculinity. It champions a sort of “liberated man” – a free-thinking, comfortably emotional individual who doesn’t even care about the staid stereotypes of the past.

For obvious reasons, I didn’t stick around that long with Dull Men. These guys are not kidding about being boring. I mean, wow. From what I saw, however, the site certainly builds a different identity than Manhood Online – this is a much more buttoned-down, almost domestic version of manhood. Still, its spirit is similar in that it promotes a non-stereotypical version of masculinity through open discussion and sharing between individuals (rather than a one-way mandate from the faceless mass of society).

I took a brief look at Men’s Stuff – again, I had to swiftly avert my eyes because of blisteringly ugly site design. My impression, though, was that it was operating on a very diverse, open-ended definition of masculinity. It seemed to cater to the well-reasoned, self-aware man with a wide array of interests and concerns – even some that might be more traditionally associated with feminimity. Brave new world indeed.

I couldn’t check out the forum proper of the Yahoo Men’s Studies Discussion Group because, apparently, it’s Members Only. (No snickering in the back, please.) Still, the very fact that it’s a discussion board suggests that it functions similarly to some of the other examples listed above. It’s a collaborative platform for the redefinition of masculinity.

It’s not all sunshine and enlightenment out there, though. Horsley wisely points out that there’s a great deal of “anxiety” associated with the breakdown of stereotypical masculinity, and of course, anxiety tends to breed kneejerk defensiveness and overcompensation. There are still a lot of places out there that seem to cling, in whole or in part, to vestiges of “old masculinity” as though it desperately needs defending. For instance, although parts of Men’s News Daily seem open-minded enough, there are some articles and blog entries that seem almost shamefully recidivist, gleefully indulging in old-fashioned conservatism and chauvinism.

I didn’t deign to visit lad rags like Maxim and FHM because, for all their pretenses of fashion and health, I’m still convinced that they’re largely aimed at the (and I hope you’ll pardon the expression) “tits-and-liquor” demographic – men who have all the intellectual substance of a bowl of oatmeal.

Backsliding aside, I like the gist of Horsley’s argument and it’s heartening to see so many validating examples online. Then again, I’ve always liked any step away from hive-mind mentalities and more towards individualism and free thinking.

Technology Literacy Narrative

This one may have momentarily slipped my mind, but somebody reminded me about the assignment. So I suppose it’s time to prove that I still remember how to be a good student – it’s not all gazelle jokes and long-winded exposition at Club Argosy. Clearly not, dear reader!

The assignment in question is the Technology Literacy Narrative, or “Prove You’re Not a Luddite in Five Answers or Less.”

What is your earliest memory of using a computer, and what did you use it for?

I can’t clearly recall my earliest experience with a computer for the same reason I can’t remember the first time I walked. Which is to say, I suppose, that I was brought up in proper nerd fashion. We were fortunate enough to have a home computer when I was pretty young, and eventually we latched onto a few other neat gizmos too: an Atari, a Sega Master System, and ultimately the coveted Nintendo Entertainment System.

I guess I never really had a fateful “first encounter” moment – me staring down a monolithic computer screen, Also sprach Zarathustra blaring in the background, thoughts of simian conquest dimly seeping into my mind. No, the computer was always just sort of there, and I gradually became educated as to its uses and higher functions.

Granted how hazy my memories are, I’d still hazard to say that the first time I used a computer was to play a game of some sort. I still have a few memories of watching my dad and older brother play classics like Wizardry 6: Bane of the Cosmic Forge, King’s Bounty, and the older Might and Magics. It’s probably a safe bet that I was quick to emulate them and, in the process, inaugurate a long tradition of playing games. And here I am now.

What is your earliest memory of using the internet to communicate with someone else? What was your intended purpose in that communication?

Hm, when was that, exactly? It was definitely sometime in grade school, and I’d probably peg it around the 4th to 6th grade level. That was when I was introduced to the idea of a “computer lab” class, and shortly thereafter the then-young Internet entered my consciousness.

Again, I can’t really provide a solid answer of my first online communication. (I sort of have trouble remembering what I had for lunch yesterday, so sending my mind that far back is something of an uncertain prospect.) More than likely, though, I probably had to send out an e-mail as part of a class tutorial. I imagine the recipient was a teacher or family member and the general content to be a purely throwaway material. Still, enough to cement the concept in a young mind, I suppose.

It wouldn’t be until the intermediate level (7th and 8th grades) that I’d be inducted into the barbarous cesspit more popularly referred to as the instant messaging client.

How did who that person was (a friend, a relative, a teacher, etc.) shape the communication choices you made?

Going back to that first tutorial instance, I’m pretty sure the “choices” were pretty much already made for me. I learned “proper form” in the lab: include a salutation, write in complete sentences, and sign off with a farewell of some sort. (In general, I observe the same format today, too.) And given that the recipient was probably an adult who was giving me a grade, I imagine I was pretty scrupulous about sticking to the letter of what I learned.

Later on, when I became wiser to the ways of the connected world, I’m sure my standards relaxed somewhat, but I’ve always had a preference for proper English and clear communication. This isn’t to say I never varied my style between formal purposes (talking to a teacher or employer) and informal purposes (dropping a line to a friend). I merely meant to say that I have no taste for the castrated gutterspeak that characterized a lot of IMs back in the early days. (And maybe still do; I currently have no means of telling.) And, to go to a more contemporary form, I’m equally contemptuous of the modern-day rash of internet memes and in-jokes – which, it seems to me, collectively only communicate one thing.

What in your life (if anything) would change if you suddenly were no longer able to communicate with others in digital ways?

Well, I may have sworn off IM clients and shallow social networking sites, but I’d still stand to lose a lot if digital communication were suddenly wiped out from my daily life. For starters, I’d lose the speed and convenience of e-mail, which is pretty much my preferred way of keeping in contact with family members, friends, and other contacts. I’d also lose access to a few communities that help me feel connected to my primary interests. And that touches on the overarching issue – I’d be cut off from entire networks of information. I hate to say it, but I’ve kind of grown reliant on some of that stuff.

On the flip side, I’d also lose the ability to express myself over the internet. From what I’m given to know, being an artist in today’s world but not having an established web presence is just… well, it would make things extremely tough, to say the least.

And I suppose I’d also lose this lovely blog, which would be a crippling blow in and of itself. I mean, I’m sure you guys would mourn its passing.

Describe a time when you miscommunicated with someone through a web interface or via e-mail. What was the nature of this miscommunication? Would the miscommunication have still occured if you were communicating face to face? Why or why not?

Oh, the stories I could tell. I count myself as pretty reformed these days, but know that I was an adolescent when the internet was still a wild frontier and, according to one popular theory at least, people’s standards were not quite so rooted.

Shall I speak of my wastrel days on Battle.net, back during the reign of Starcraft and Diablo II?

No no, too embarassing.

I’ll bring up a more recent instance, one that perhaps does not cast me in so bad a light. Back in high school, I became pretty heavily involved in the Concept Art community along with one of my friends, Zeb. It came to pass that I had to move to Pennsylvania midway through high school, which left CA as one of my primary ways of keeping in touch. Specifically, the thread we jointly maintained was “Drawing in Class,” and it became a daily ritual to post the fruits of the day’s boredom.

Eventually, though, there was a falling out of sorts. I forget the exact details of the miscommunication, but I distinctly remember sending some private messages to Zeb about the status of the thread. Some new guys had started posting in the thread, and their class doodles were a lot better than ours. I took the opportunity to poke fun at this fact – to pour on a little self-criticism (a common ailment of the young artist) and bestow some praise on the newbies.

Zeb evidently misread my PM as me backing out of the thread altogether, as though I was intimidated by the newcomers’ displays of superior skill. Worse yet, he made the contents of my PM known in a public post and took it as a chance to excoriate me for my supposed artistic cowardice. Now, in the scheme of things, this post didn’t so much as cause a ripple in the greater community; I don’t even think the threadgoers paid it any mind. But it seemed a great betrayal to me, to publicly air a private conversation. Not to mention that the post hinged on a misreading of my original message, substituting a serious tone for the intended sarcastic humor.

My response was a little extreme. I went through and deleted all of my posts on the forum, effectively removing myself from the community all together.

Eventually, Zeb and I talked about it and I rejoined CA as a semi-regular poster again. But looking back on the whole thing, the scenario was just replete with the exactly the sort of stuff I’ve since struggled to avoid at all costs: miscommunication, breaching of unspoken etiquette, and worse of all, drama.

Ugh, it’s hard to believe that was actually me.

Well, like I said, I believe I’ve mightily reformed myself since my early online misadventures. Could these problems have been mitigated by face-to-face communication? For most of my cases, I think so; certainly I could have directly conveyed humor in my remarks during the CA snafu. But since then, I like to think that I’ve learned to work around the many pitfalls of internet communication.

The pelagic argosy sights… what the hell is this?

It’s recently come to my attention that this site ranks pretty high if you google “pelagic argosy.” I can only imagine the anguish that must cause people, who go in search of literary revelations for Gene Wolfe’s groundbreaking The Book of the New Sun and are instead cast to this dismal shore, an ill-monikered hinterland of homework assignments and college-mandated Net analysis.

To those unlucky travelers, I emphatically state: Go here! Or even better, go here!

I didn’t mean to use the Autarch’s famous password* in vain; as I have expressed many times in this blog, my slavish admiration of all things Wolfian knows no bounds. If I could, I’d gladly engage in some amateur analysis of Severian’s odyssey, or even better, fill a canvas with the strange peoples and beings that populate the far future. But for the moment, I am bound by obligations I dare not sunder. Until class is over around mid-May, this is a strictly business blog with a knowing wink for a title.

But like I said in the very first post, after then… who knows? Perhaps then the blog’s content will undergo a figurative apotheosis. Or maybe I’ll just get rid of the thing to spare my fellow Wolfe readers the confusion.

*Edit: (SPOILERS!) Technically, I guess it’s Vodalus who first tells Severian to expect the phrase; the Autarch, whose urine is the wine of the people, only speaks it back to him. But since Vodalus is unknowingly in the Autarch’s service, dot dot dot…

On fandom

We’ve been spending some time talking about internet fan communities in class, and this quote popped up in a reading:

Fans are not fringe extremists with an unhealthy and unrealistic interest in a particular media text, but savvy consumers who are able to use popular culture to fulfill their desires and needs, often explicitly rearticulating that culture in unique and empowering ways. (Source: This book again)

That’s sort of a lot of words to get me to react, “Well, duh.” When it comes down to it, we’re all fans of something to at least some degree (unless, of course, you’re one of those excruciatingly boring people with no outside interests whatsoever). And the plain fact is that fansites are a natural and perfectly acceptable outgrowth of this impulse. Not only do they furnish us with a platform to pull apart and analyze the often surprisingly rich texts we encounter in the media, but they are full-fledged communities for a like-minded group of people.

If this sounds familiar to you, it is because you are a mammal.

Certainly it’s become easier and easier to endorse fan communities ever since they went “mainstream,” which is to say, when people decided it wasn’t weird to really like something they saw on TV. Still, we occasionally encounter the behavoirists shrieking in the pantry, decrying the heavily stereotyped outliers, the stock message boards full of supposedly jobless sci-fi enthusiasts. (Why is it always the sci-fi fans?)

First off, I defy anybody to find a community populated entirely by these alarmist caricatures. It’s all too easy to lose sight of the fact that even the most ardent fan is, in fact, a human being. Which leads me to my second point: let’s be rational about it and reason that there’s no harm done. Every society has a fringe element, and often times it’s way more interesting besides.

This is a little tangential to the main discussion, but then again, I don’t have much more to contribute. Fandom is a natural social impulse, media texts are a perfectly legitimate focus for enthusiasm and analysis, and time spent carping the tired old “fandom is unhealthy” rigamarole is time that can be spent more constructively. Like starting that crusade to get a second season of Firefly on the air.

Man, that was a good show.

Identity and the Personal Homepage

Les devoirs du jour is an exercise in identity construction based on an article by Charles Cheung. Cheung argues that the web allows us to obviate the traditional difficulties of social encounters and more carefully control the image we present to others. In some cases, this has had a powerfully transformative effect; formerly marginalized individuals suddenly have an avenue for self-expression and meaningful interaction. In many more cases, though, it’s basically self-indulgent folderol. At its best, Cheung describes the personal homepage as “emancipatory.” Under less optimal conditions, we may assign another name to certain homepages.

All of this is pretty much besides the point, but I like to think that I have good reasons for dodging the issue thus far (the issue being how I would construct myself on a homepage). Generally speaking, I have mixed feelings on the topic. On the one hand, haven’t I done this before over and over again? And in a very real sense, haven’t I been constructing a self with these posts? (Isn’t the very act of writing a fairly major form of self-projection?)

And then there’s the other side of the matter, which is to say I’m pretty convinced that people are violently disinterested in me, which renders self-presentation moot. So if I build yet another homepage, I’m essentially giving myself another way to be ignored and alienated, which is like, you know, great.

I suppose the final way to look at it is that being evasive doesn’t get the assignment finished. At this point, the post is sort of looking like, well, self-indulgent folderol. See above.

So, belatedly, how would I present myself on a new homepage? Well, just a few points for starters…

A creative person. This is the most obvious route, given that I’m technically an art major. I say “technically” because, like any art student these days, I routinely criticize my own work and (as a matter of policy) detest anything I’ve made more than five minutes ago. Even so, there’s no way around it – art is a very large part of my life, and any website I make should reflect that.

With that said, I don’t think it’s necessary to beat the viewer over the head to get the point across. It’s extremely easy to appear conceited when presenting yourself as a creative person. I can probably sidestep this difficulty by keeping things subtle and understated – quietly evocative rather than overwhelmingly dramatic. (This is one of those times when it’s actually handy to have a self-effacing personality.)

Content-wise, I’d expect a very large part of the site to be devoted to creative endeavors: sketches, paintings, writings, and so on. Optimally, I wish to appear thoughtful and imaginative as well as disciplined enough to see a project through to completion.

A person who sort of has a sense of humor. I think people can be “professional” while still being themselves – the two need not be mutually exclusive. I also think that most people use the Internet to be entertained (and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing). And like Erik Wolpaw, I generally think that most things that aren’t funny, should be.

Essentially, I’m just giving myself an excuse to vent my own warped and highly cynical sense of humor. Why shouldn’t I have some fun with my own homepage?

A sincere person. Actually, I don’t think there’s too much to say about this one. It’s just been the general pattern for the events of my life.

And with that more or less roughed in, now comes the part where I toss in a few obligatory links. Evidently, the best way to gauge someone’s identity is to correlate it to something external.

Without a doubt, one of my biggest artistic influences is the Concept Art community, whose top tier represents the vanguard of professional illustration, video game design, and figurative expression. That’s basically a numbered list of my wildest dreams. While I’m on the subject, I might as well mention my fierce admiration for contemporary artists like Andrew Jones, Shelly Wan, Marko Djurdjevic, and Jason Chan, to name a few. Oh, and here’s the link for Massive Black, the mad consortium behind CA.

I frequent these art sites less often, but I’m always impressed with the stuff at CGTalk and Imaginary Friends. Also, when Ren and Stimpy creator John Kricfalusi isn’t busy spouting vitriol about how everything sucks these days, he posts some incredibly instructive lessons on character design, form, and the history of cartoons on his blog. Also, have you seen what Kazu Kibuishi is up to? Because he’s bloody brilliant.

To say that Penny Arcade is my webcomic of choice might not be doing it justice. If the entire Internet were to suddenly rupture, sparing only PA from the fiery cataclysm, I honestly think I’d be perfectly content. Not only is it something of an authority for my favorite pastime, but it has also significantly influenced my sense of humor.

Speaking of video games, which are as important to my identity as stripes are to a zebra, I should probably link N’gai Croal’s excellent 1up blog and the Escapist (which incidentally also hosts the ridiculously hilarious, incredibly vulgar Zero Punctuation). I’ve also been newly initiated in the Platformers community - we’ll see where that goes. And lastly, I would be remiss if I did not drop a link to my friend Brian Belida’s site.

Did I mention that Gene Wolfe is the world’s greatest living writer? To chorus Michael Swanwick, allow me to repeat myself: Gene Wolfe is the world’s greatest living writer. I occasionally visit the Urth boards when I’m feeling literary.

Am I forgetting anything? Probably.

Book Options

I’m positive this comes as an absolute shock to no one at all, but I’ve selected two books about video games for this brief review. There are, after all, very few times that you’re afforded this sort of indulgence for a school project.

Joking aside, I was actually very pleased (and yes, even a little excited) to discover that this medium is beginning to receive the serious scholarly attention it deserves. And if nothing else, there are few things as cool as cracking open a textbook and seeing a screenshot of The Legend of Zelda offered up as academic evidence. So, without further ado…

Play Between Worlds: Exploring Online Game Culture (T.L. Taylor, 2006) is both an introduction to and a guided tour of the massively multiplayer online game (MMOG), which has gone from being an internet phenomenon to almost a cultural touchstone. More specifically, the object of scrutiny is Everquest – a sensible choice for the year of publication and still generally relevant for today (although the current MMOG of choice is undoubtedly the Blizzard juggernaut World of Warcraft). The author, however, does more than simply explain the rules, mechanics, and terminology of the MMOG; she really examines everything with a researcher’s eye, with especial care to the nuances of player interaction and how they collaboratively shape the game experience (perhaps more so, at times, than the game designers themselves). She also appears to have a special interest in the changing demographics of MMOG culture and even dedicates an entire chapter to female gamers. The Amazon reviews aren’t wrong to point out her fondness for academic language and complex sentences, but the text is certainly readable. And hey, MMOGs are kind of a complex subject, so it’s appropriate that T.L. Taylor is approaching the genre as such.

As a research source, Play Between Worlds is easy to recommend for anyone interested in the social component of modern gaming. It may also be of interest for anyone studying technology demographics. It’s important to note, though, that the book is extremely precise in scope – the MMOG is only a single genre of the medium, and not even close to representing the entire spectrum of multiplayer gaming. Just think of the differences between, say, World of Warcraft and Team Fortress 2.

Whereas Play Between Worlds is almost entirely concerned with how a certain genre of games affect human interaction, Half-Real: Video Games between Real Rules and Fictional Worlds (Jesper Juul, 2005) is a gleefully philosophical appraisal of the medium as a whole. That’s an immense task of course, but Juul covers an impressive amount of ground in the space he’s given. He not only situatates the modern video game in a classic gaming model, but also exhaustively analyzes the links between game rules and virtual fiction. There are plenty of other cool ideas here, from analysis of games’ effects on their players to an examination of the concept of time within the game. The scope is both broad and impressive, encompassing the timeline from the early arcade days to the then-latest “sixth generation” of console games. (He even relates modern games to classical pastimes like chess and the ancient Egyptian senet!) The icing on the cake is that the text is delivered with clarity and precision, complete with numerous screenshots and diagrams to illustrate ideas and concepts. Overall, it seems like a fascinating read and even more persuasive evidence that games are an emergent and incredibly powerful means of expression in the digital age. Thoroughly gratifying for the initiate and still accessible for the layperson.

The only thing that troubles me is that the book is three years old now. Sure, that seems very recent (and no doubt the discussion within is still incredibly relevant), but video games are a fast-changing medium and the past few years have been chock-a-block with momentous shifts in the industry. I can only imagine Juul’s take on the Wii’s revolutionary control scheme, groundbreaking games like Bioshock and Portal, the rising prevalence of online gaming, and innumerable other current topics of interest.

Quibble aside, Half-Real still seems like a thoroughly absorbing text. As a research source, though, it is far more concerned with game theory and philosophy than their social elements. This would obviously make it a natural choice for a project examining games in general, but it would be of limited use for a project concerned with how multiplayer games mediate human interaction.

But c’mon now. Super Mario and senet in the same book. That’s just plain cool.

 Addendum (revised February 8th)

I apparently neglected one of the important parts of the analysis – namely, are these books argumentative? It’s questionable at first glance; Taylor devotes much space to chronicling her experiences, while Juul is mostly concerned with game theory. With this in mind, though, Taylor seems to cover a series of implicit arguments, as she’s situating her experiences within a context and then considering the social ramifications of the MMOG. It’s a much tougher call for Juul, though – maybe you can say his theory is itself an argument (games could be defined another way, I suppose), but his highly analytical approach might make it more difficult to work with for this kind of project.

Web 2.0 and Social Writing Platforms

We’re kicking the class off with a brief tour of “Web 2.0,” the moniker humans have attached to the slurry of user-driven, microcontent-based sites and applications that began achieving prevalence several years ago. Many parts of Web 2.0 have since become staples of people’s daily routines, as the increasing ubiquity of sites and services like Wikipedia and Facebook have proven. Most of this feels like old hat to the tech-savvy – even if we weren’t consciously ware of the shifting digital climate, we’ve certainly grown familiar with these new technologies and their underlying ethos of accessibility and collaboration.

What I want to focus on in this post is the social writing platform, which strikes me as a little more specialized (and a little less well-known) than other projects under the Web 2.0 banner. The idea behind the social writing platform is intuitive enough and, in practice, it operates a lot like a wiki. Users simply create a password-protected page that houses a blank text document and then invite others to join them via e-mail. From there, anybody in the group can write, edit, or annotate the document as they see fit, with the changes often appearing in real time. It’s a simple idea with boundless applications, as the testimonial page for Google Docs cheerfully attests. From businesspeople and professional writers to family members in disparate locations, people employ the social writing platform whenever they want to easily access, edit, and discuss the same piece of writing.

So how do the various services out there stack up? As per the letter of the assignment, I’m primarily taking a look at Writeboard, Google Docs, and JotSpo – I mean, um, Zoho Writer.

Writeboard

Something about Writeboard makes me think it’s one of the granddaddies of social writing platforms. Its core functionality is solid and well-polished, but it lacks some of the comforting features of its younger, dare I say hipper kin. For starters, though, it’s ridiculously easy to simply get going on a document, no accounts or purchases necessary. (Though, if you’re a Writeboard aficionado with tons of documents on the site, they’ll recommend a Backpack subscription – essentially a tool that organizes all your pages in one location so you don’t have to remember multiple passwords. Handy for businesses, I suppose.)

So what does the site do? Well, like others of its type, it lets you create a password-protected page for your document, e-mail links to your cohorts, and then . . . write. The interface is clean and easy-to-use, and it also includes a revision history that saves and stores past iterations of your document, so there’s little fear of losing a past streak of brilliance after an ill-advised editing session. It also features a handy comparison button that, when used, helpfully highlights all of the changes between two versions of your work. Users can tack on comments to a field at the bottom of the page, which is certainly thoughtful. Lastly, deleted writeboards can be recovered up to two months later, which is Another Neat Thing.

Now, the text field itself is a relatively spartan affair. You can type all you want, of course, but if you want to do any basic formatting (bold text, italics, headers, etc.), you have to resort to Writeboard’s system of clunky, do-it-yourself code. It’s nothing difficult, but given that it’s neither as robust as a word processor nor as convenient as an e-mail or forum post, it can’t help but feel like a chore. And God save you if you have a numbered list.

One thing worth mentioning is that, unlike many of its peers, the editing in Writeboard does not occur in real time. When you elect to change the document, you’re essentially doing it yourself and then resubmitting it back to the main workspace. This might allow for a more deliberative, relaxed pace of writing, but unless carefully monitored, it can also cause a document to branch into two very different versions.

In the end, Writeboard offers nothing fancy, but it’s efficient and gets the job done. It recommends itself most for jobs where formatting is at most a minor concern, like web content. Documents intended for print might be another possibility, as the text is typically exported and formatted in Quark and InDesign. Still, despite its accessibility, it feels like other tools can get the job done better.

Google Docs

Well, it’s Google. It’s a multibillion dollar corporation whose primary service is used by every sentient creature on planet Earth. Of course they put together one of the best social writing platforms out there. They also have a very, um, interesting tutorial that leverages the latest in string and paperclip technology to simulate their rich experience.

Like Writeboard, Google Docs retains all the core features you’d expect from this type of service: create a password-protected document, invite all your buddies, and have at it. Comments and version histories are both included features, but there was no comparison button I could see. On the plus side, the formatting is far easier with Google Docs – you can code it yourself or simply use buttons. Still, truly complex format jobs are best handled by exporting the finished text to a more specialized application.

The changes in Google Docs also occur in real time, which still seems like a mixed bag to me. On the one hand, it becomes far easier to see what everyone else is doing and thereby better coordinate your efforts. On the other hand, it might make for a more frenetic pace of writing. I haven’t tried it myself, but I can’t help but wonder how easy it is to write something while tectonic shifts are occurring higher up in the paragraph. Or worse – what if you engage another writer in combat over the same sentence? Ultimately, though, these grim scenarios are likely unwarranted; any team worthy of the name should be able to work together just fine. And real time does do a lot to streamline the process of constant change, regardless.

Lastly, Google Docs also has spreadsheet capabilities, which makes it an even more versatile option. Writeboard may be a little more accessible, but the barriers to Google Docs are still fairly low – you need a Google account to start making pages, but there are no actual purchases involved. So, in the final accounting, Google Docs seems more useful for a broader array of projects.

Zoho Writer

JotSpot has apparently been swallowed whole by Google, much as a serpent might devour a succulent gazelle. A quick search, however, turned up Zoho Writer, which looks like a solid Web tool from a company known for making solid Web tools.

Zoho Writer is actually just the word processing part of a full suite of applications offered by the company. As a standalone product, though, it is surprisingly robust; it’s nearly as full-featured as Microsoft Word, synchs up with sites like Flickr and YouTube, and allows you to publish directly to the Web. You can also edit a document offline – you know, if you really want to – but its online potential is too much to be ignored.

The catch is that you don’t learn any of this from Zoho’s pathetically bare-bones front page. (I actually culled all of these facts from its Wikipedia entry.)

Besides that, what about the collaborative aspect? As far as I can tell, it operates on the same principles as its brethren: password protect page, send it off to friends, retrieve earlier versions of a document, and so on. Editing occurs in real time. And lastly, the application seems reasonably accessible. You appear to need an account to use it to its fullest potential, but I saw no charges attached.

Long-winded analysis aside, what’s the most useful platform? The only one that seems clearly out of consideration is Writeboard. Solid it may be, but compared to the others it seems obstinate and archaic. Google Docs is versatile and well-suited for many purposes, but it seems it can’t trump Zoho for writing web content; its synchronization abilities provide it with a winning edge.

Some small presentiment of the future

I suppose I’ve finally gone ahead and established a presence on the Webs.

Or maybe not so much. This was not started as a personal blog, but rather as a learning tool for one of my classes this semester, Writing in Digital Environments. Our goal is to explore the tools, technology, and culture of the Internet, to analyze how people are using the medium to communicate… and to determine how that medium might be shaping our dialogues. As such, the bulk of the posts will consist of class assignments, responses to questions, research prompts, and the like.

Or at least that’s the game plan through May. After that, who can say? Maybe that will be my cue to join the blogging brethren, to unleash torrents of fell revelations and set the Earth listing off its axis. (I’m given to understand that these sorts of things happen all the time when you sit at a computer and type things.) Or, much more likely, I’ll convert the whole thing into a sketchblog heavily laden with allusions to Gene Wolfe.

In any event, welcome to the blog. Expect the first assignments to be up later today.