Professors Par Excellence

Since it's near the eve of my graduation (only one quarter left!), I thought I'd take a moment to reflect on some of the professors I've had who left an impression on me. They're not listed in any particular order.

• Dean Tullsen - For CSE 140/141, the Digital System Design sequence. This course was fairly tough, given that it was hardware-level (as in machine-language programming) stuff. But Professor Tullsen demonstrated that he lives and breathes this stuff by presenting the material in an easy-to-absorb format, and accurately and concisely answering students' questions. It's hard not to share his enthusiasm; he turned a potentially terrifying class into an interesting one.
• Jim Hollan - For COGS 120, Human-Computer Interaction. Jim's got kind of a quirky sense of humor that I can appreciate, as well as a real enthusiasm for his field. His lectures are always interesting and entertaining, and he always seems so damned energized. Hollan is one of the professors that has inspired me to consider teaching.
• José Jara - for ENGL 202, Critical Thinking and Writing (at Mira Costa). A lot of people that took Jara's class didn't like it, because his grading scheme was based partly on how many pieces of writing you submitted throughout the year. Thus you really had to earn that good grade, because credit wasn't automatic; you only got credit for a paper after it shows sufficient polish, detail, and overall style. Credit was unlikely to happen on the first submission. He's a fascinating guy because no matter what your topic is, he knows enough about it to give you advice on making your paper better. It was a good deal of work, but my writing and editing skills improved more from Jara's class than any other writing instruction I've had.
• Farrell Ackerman - For LIGN (general linguistics) 176, The Language of Politics and Advertising. Ackerman is a kooky guy; that's about the best word I can think of to describe him. I really enjoyed his lecturing style in the class that I took. I personally think this class should be a part of the core curriculum at UCSD, because its implications for everyone's lives are so profound. Ackerman, again, showed that he is an expert in his field, and seemed to have total command of virtually all things linguistic. The assignments and readings were compelling and really helped to foster understanding of the topics. This is one of my most favorite classes ever. Ackerman is another professor that inspired me to give back to education.

I'm sure there are others, but these few are, apparently, the really standout examples. Nice work!

Rebirth of the Ether Project

I've been putting into use some of the things we covered in CSE 111, "Object-Oriented Software Design," organizing a hobby project I'm working on. How much will it help? No idea. But I can say that I already have a clearer picture of what needs to be done, and of the overall architecture of the system.

Said project is a Java-based framework for role-playing games. The target is "classic" style RPGs, like the Final Fantasy series, but I believe it could be used for the more open-ended types as well. I'm mostly doing it for my own use, and for the experience, but I'll release it if there's any interest. I'm designing and documenting it as if I were going to, so I might as well, right?

I'll post more info when the preliminary design is completed.

Unlimited Nothing

In an article in this month's Wired, about a proposed subscription-based music service for the Zune: "After all, why buy an iPod if a Zune will give you songs for free?"

This statement is, in my opinion, simplistic and a bit naïve. The Zune wouldn't give you anything for free. One of the reasons that CDs—and even vinyl LPs—are still around despite all the online music services (and piracy) is that people are hoarders. People like to own tangible things that they can hold and touch and collect. Some argue that charging for copy-protected music is wrong because you're basically just buying a bit pattern. But at least under this scheme you still have something to show for your purchase: A local file on your computer.

Music subscription services are different*. You pay a set fee each month, and you can listen to as many songs as you want, and even put them on your MP3 player. Great, right? Sure, as long as you keep paying the subscription. But once you quit, that's the end. You can't download any more music, and the files you do have turn into little digital bricks. Subscriptions like this are less appealing, at least to me, because once you quit paying for them, you have nothing to show for the money you spent. No disc, no record, no reel of tape. Nothing.
*This is my understanding of the way music subscriptions work; I may be wrong...

If all the music labels and electronic distribution services disappeared tomorrow, my Discman (and car, and computer, and Xbox, etc.) would still play CDs. My turntables would play vinyl records. Hell, even my iPod would still play all the MP3s I've bought through iTunes. But I wouldn't have any remnants from my Rhapsody subscription. It's not particularly Buddhist of me, but I just don't care for that idea.

Inauguration

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Neuroflux is go!

Interacting with Games

(this is a repost from my class-related blog for Cog Sci 120, "Human-Computer Interaction." I miss that class already...)

I (obviously) find video games to be interesting sources of interaction-design discussion. One thing that I've been thinking about lately is the variety of games that come out, and the notion that nearly all of them use the same input device. Aside from games like Dance Dance Revolution or Guitar Hero, the huge majority of console games use the standard controller: Two analog sticks, a D-pad, four thumb-accessible buttons, and four shoulder buttons, plus a couple of extras depending on the console. This basic arrangement has been the standard since at least 1994 when the original PlayStation came out. Prior to the PlayStation, Sega's and Nintendo's controllers followed a pretty clear evolution, with Nintendo following its own path and Sega often "borrowing" certain features from Nintendo. Sega eventually quit the console hardware business after lackluster sales of its Saturn and Dreamcast systems. The graphic below shows an abridged evolution of controllers from the major console manufacturers. The Dreamcast's is the final one in the Sega column; I would argue that its controller was one of its downfalls! It seems that the basic philosophy has followed the "more is more" mentality discussed in the textbook - more buttons means more abilities.

The problem with the "more is more" approach is the sheer complexity of and number of possibilities provided by the latest generation of input hardware. Humans only have 10 fingers; the Xbox 360 control pad has two analog sticks, a digital direction pad, and 11 buttons. Add to this the fact that the controller must be held by at least two fingers of each hand, and realistically only four buttons can be reached at any time. This complexity turns off many novice and casual gamers who often become confused or intimidated by the number of controls, or who don't play often enough to remember all the mappings between the buttons and their in-game functions. The current state of video game controllers can arguably be seen as an example of the pitfalls of using established concepts to inform new designs; relying on old examples and metaphors blinds the designers to alternatives which may be better suited to the task. Does an increase in controls really mean an increase in playability? And the ultimate question for a games system: Does it make a game more fun?

Nintendo has realized that more controls does not equal more fun. In fact, such a panoply of controls can hinder the experience by forcing the player to concentrate more on finding the right button for the right action. As mentioned above, a player may also have to devote significant time and effort to learning the controls. The Wii controller rejects the "more is more" philosophy in favor of something almost entirely new. (An image of it is in the last spot on the Nintendo column of the graphic at left.) It leverages people's natural tendency to gesture and move while interacting by using a two-part controller, held in both hands. Each part includes a few buttons - though significantly fewer than a PlayStation or Xbox - and both parts are motion sensitive. This allows for some unique, and often more natural, possibilities for interaction. For example, in Wii Boxing, the player dodges and swings their arms as though they are fighting a real-life opponent - much more intuitive than pressing buttons on a standard controller. A player can fish by imitating the motion of holding a rod and reeling in, throw a ball by making a throwing motion, swing a sword by slashing, and so on. The increased physicality and streamlined button interaction can provide a much more engrossing experience than the finger acrobatics required of standard gamepads.

The Wii's runaway success - it often sells more than the Xbox 360 and Playstation 3 combined - is confirmation that its control scheme is a welcome relief from the gaming status quo. Players are much more comfortable simply picking up a Wii controller and playing a game because the controls are simple and intuitive. Nintendo software is very good at altering the control scheme in response to changing contexts within a game, remapping actions to the controls in ways the player scarcely has to think about. By lowering the interaction barrier, Nintendo has discovered one of the keys to bringing video gaming to a wider audience. The Wii experiment has also shown the value of thinking "outside the box," as well as paying attention to the needs and limitations of users.