I don't think I am unique in that. In fact, I perceive that it is very normal for public figures, not merely to fade from public attention, but to actively seek out seclusion.

While I'm not Satoshi, I would put the odds of someone in such a position of maintaining radio silence far from "zero chance". I would put it more around 70 or 80 percent. And at any rate, it is certainly what I would do.

A government with aggressive surveillance ambitions but a decaying police department and justice system looks to me very much like the guy with a mountain of guns and ammo but no parallel investment in something like battlefield medicine. Whatever you're telling yourself about the reason for what you're doing, it is manifestly not correct, at least going by other investments I would expect to see and find neglected.

I don't think it's that video games have gotten worse (though perhaps they have). I think it's more that it's impossible to recreate the way they impacted us back then. It wasn't just about the games, but also about the times. DOOM today is a fine game and even a classic, but back then it was the first time anyone had ever seen anything like it and we were inventing online play and fps tactics and amateur map design in real time. Descent had that same blockbuster feel, but that for me that feeling faded from new releases over the next few years. (Though I won't deny Minecraft caught something of that old bombshell energy.)

I suspect the way I feel about the video games I grew up with is a feeling my kids will never exactly have. Sure, they love their games, but the 90s were an incredible time for the art form. By analogy, I love the music I grew up with, but I don't feel about it the way my parents feel about the music from the 60's. Music is always special, but that was a particularly special time for music and if you weren't there, you weren't there. In time the absolute electricity of the British Invasion became "So what kind of music do you listen to?" So I think it will go with games.

B5 spends most of the series saying that sort of thing.

As much as I love both shows, I wouldn't really recommend B5 to someone based on a love of TNG. I think it is more natural to recommend B5 to someone based on a minimial affinity for sci fi and a liking for Lord of the Rings, which will really tell you how different the two shows are.

TNG is wonderfully idealistic. It paints a picture of rising above your vices and being professional, civilized, and decent. It teaches you to work the problem, to examine the data, to think and consult and reflect and do better. I think it unrealistic -- I thought it unrealistic when I first encountered it -- but that doesn't matter. It's such a worthy ideal that it is worth encountering and remembering over and over again. As you go through life, you should remember that that is an option and strive for it.

B5 is wonderfully heroic. It is about dealing with a world of moral complexity and uncertainty, about trying to do good even when it is futile, about being a hero in the face of danger and risk and doubt. About how politics makes that difficult and keeps it in check and at any rate isn't a game you can check out of because it is the game.

Both shows encounter awful authoritarianism. One examines the law and philosophy in detail and gives a stirring verbal rebuke that carries the day. One starts a rebellion without certainty that it will be right or effective, but because under the circumstances, a good man feels compelled to do so. I think these are both extremely valuable takes on the topic, and I wouldn't want to have not seen either one. But I do have to say that at the end of the day, it is the second one I think of more as I go through life. For me the greater life lesson is not in taking the time to seek deeper wisdom, worthy as that is, but in having the bravery and faith to face danger, uncertainty, and tragedy.

Whenever I get the itch to watch the whole thing again but I don't want to spend the time, I watch this (which is so thick with spoilers that you shouldn't watch it unless you've seen the series so many times that the Vorlons make sense now). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHpMAubwfQg

It is hard to feel that way in the 2020s. Technology seems oversold, scammish, dystopian, inhuman. Everything is slop and skinner boxes. It impoverishes rather than enriches, and it seems to be getting worse. It is easy to feel that the Amish, nay perhaps even the medievals, have a point.

Worse, the science fiction oriented around starships took its cues from our experience of the naval - journeys of days or weeks would take you to alien places teeming with new and interesting and enriching life. Foods you couldn't eat anywhere else. People you couldn't meet at home. But now the globe seems smaller, explored, and conquered. Those faraway goods are easily shipped to your door, and those faraway people show up in your comments section and they're just people. The excitement of the seas is no longer such a part of our outlook that reskinning it in fantasy speaks to us.

Not only is the excitement of the seas greatly diminished, the more we have learned about the universe, the worse the naval analogy seems. The distant stars no longer seem like tropical islands, but rather hopelessly distant and inhospitable. In 1958, Heinlein wrote a wonderful short story about scout troops in the verdant jungles of Venus back when that was a reasonable expectation[1], but it seems like a silly thing to write now. https://xkcd.com/2202/ seems to capture the current expectation well.

Several decades ago it was easy to get excited about the march of scientific discovery and technological progress. But now we're asking why science seems to have slowed down so much, and new technology seems about as exciting as new mechanisms for dependence and dystopia.

Atheism is weakening and religion is rising.

The imagined global society of the UN that was reimagined at a larger scale as The Federation may have seemed like the way of the future for a few decades, but now that dream looks foolish and the globe is visibly fracturing.

The classic science fiction trope that progress will better us as people, that leisure will lead to fitness, that access to information will make us wise scholars, that we will use the convenience of machines to free ourselves for the pursuit of virtue... it makes for an inspiring story. I had my suspicions about how true all of that was back before the internet. I am now very sure that Wall-E and Idiocracy are nearer to the mark.

The human-like AIs of Star Wars' robots or Star Trek's androids or innumerable superintelligent computers from Asimov to Heinlein seem further away every year. AI is part of everyday life now, and our major concern is how to keep it from catastrophically failing at mundane research, not whether it should have voting rights or makes humans obsolete. Ambulatory human-like AI seems unlikely when data centers the size of small cities struggle with emdashes. The hope and promise of a generation of robot children and citizens seems as misguided as the forests of Venus.

I could go on. We GOT a lot of the wonders science fiction predicted, or things so much more powerful that our most audacious futurists didn't dare to imagine them. And yet it doesn't feel like the promised land. Science fiction promised instant video conferences across the globe, but when we got it, it didn't look like all the world's best researchers collaborating on its hardest problems. It looked like all of the miscreants with their dick pics and the dreary business meetings and school lessons suddenly having access to your home. I don't mean to imply it's all bad, but the difference between imagination and reality has been stark on many fronts.

I really think the truth is that in a thousand ways, the tropes of the genre no longer speak to the moment.

[1] https://writingatlas.com/story/3984/robert-a-heinlein-a-tend...

I gave it up in 2020, perceiving that python had won. It was a sad day - working in python feels like typing while missing three fingers. I go to reach for an idiom and not only is it not there, I'm told the phantom limb syndrome is for everyone's good, including mine.

I've never found the code of skilled perl programmers difficult to read. I think bad programmers will always write code that is difficult to work with, even in languages that are supposed to prevent it. The most miserable time I ever had understanding someone else's code came at the hands of a brilliant, overly clever, somewhat inexperienced python hacker. I will admit, though, that this feat of confusion required a prodigy, whereas perl makes it quite easy to shoot everyone in a thirty yard radius in the foot. Just the same, I've always thought the messiness of perl was a myth, a result of misuse, abuse, and inexperience. Well written perl conveys much at a glance where in visually cleaner languages, all shapes have the same outline.

But it's also true that by the time I gave it up, I was already looking for a replacement. The language is bold and beautiful and opinionated, and in the fullness of time, some of those opinions proved to be wrong. The world moved forward and perl didn't, and I found myself wanting to do things with objects, and types, and tooling, and functions, and exceptions, that it just didn't do, or didn't do well. Some languages, like PHP and javascript, grew beyond their humble beginnings and bolted on the rigorous and increasingly mandatory machinery of the modern world. Perl didn't.

So my leaving had two big factors: the language didn't grow up, and people didn't want to read my code.

I'm still looking for a replacement. The serious contenders seem to be Go and Ruby, both of which I really like a lot. I dabble in Haskell and Lisp looking for pieces of what I've lost. I have negotiated an uneasy ceasefire with python and javascript out of professional obligation. We can work together, though admittedly neither one of us is entirely happy about it.

Perl was a beautiful thing, a thing I appreciated like art and poetry. I'm glad to have been there for the years in which it flourished. But I also think the world has passed it by. Even looking past hacked in features, it had a more fundamental problem. The tug of war between standardization and expression is like the one between society and the individual. Neither side should ever really win, but perl favored expression more than we now think is wise. We didn't know it then. And the feeling was glorious. But in the decades since, we all - myself included - have decided the balance between those things is ... well we don't know exactly where it is, but we do know it involves less individual freedom than that. The language made a lot of gambles that turned out wrong, but that's the big one.

I think lisp fell prey to that, too, by the way. So formless and expressive that by the time you got done writing your software, you'd essentially invented a language specific to it. Great, in the narrow scope of your project, language and domain fitting hand in glove. Not awesome if you need to hire help. Ads for people who speak Emacs Lisp or Autocad Lisp are telling. You can invent the most beautiful language in the world, but the fact that only three people speak it is surely a strong point against it.

Perl is and was a beautiful thing. I miss it. I seek out its children when I can. I write jokes and references and eulogies where I can, tucking little utility functions stolen from perl into languages where they don't belong, places that never touched that unix heritage. Perl is humble enough to give you the space to do things your way, rather than its way, giving you permission to break all the rules and requesting that you use the freedom with wisdon and goodness and politeness. That sort of bold faith and generosity sparks in me a fierce love. I haven't found it anywhere else. I doubt I will, because as wonderful as it is, it's since been considered unwise. Programming is a social endeavor, and while a specialist language like GLSL can thrive in a little niche, a glue language spoken by only a few people isn't a glue language at all - it's another arcane system that needs to be glued. No, python won. Perhaps it even deserved to.

So for me, perl is dead... but also long live perl.

Where we stand on the respective odds of different humans versus different geese in different arenas, it's actually orthogonal to my original point -- that different groups of geese vary in their courage around humans, and that there are extreme outliers who are doing a lot more than "cutting it close" -- they're betting the humans will give them space. Or perhaps I saw something rare and was simply channelling Snow White that day. ;)

The more general point is that animal behavior need not always be thought of as the solution to an optimization problem. Whether you believe that's true or not in an ultimate sense, in an immediate sense, it is obvious that their personalities and experience come into play too, and that sometimes they make bad decisions.

I get that they have a lot of aggression and deterrence going for them. But in a fight between a goose and a human, the human is mostly risking bites and bruises while the goose is risking death.

I put them in a similar category of threat as scorpions. Of course I don't want to fight -- getting hurt is inconvenient. But if we do fight, I'm not really concerned about which of us is going to win.

Sure, humans should worry about crazy geese. Geese have a lot more reason to worry about crazy humans!

Some times are better than others, and I can't tell whether we're in a lull or I just have a case of "getting older" and "kids these days". ;)

I will say that golden ages are typically identified retrospectively. Things get better until they get worse, and then you look back. Like the article, I certainly look back to the 90s as a golden age in gaming in certain ways, but at the time I didn't think that. At the time, I just thought everything was awesome and there was no reason for the party to ever end. What feels like that now?

I've seen the similar behavior from the ducks and geese in my neighborhood. Not as extreme, but sometimes I'm out for a walk, and they'll keep a wary eye on me, but will be content with the situation at 6-10 feet away, and won't actually take off unless I try to chase them. I don't think it's so much that they're "cutting it close" as that they're justifiably confident that humans are too slow to catch them at that distance and generally don't even try. But on the other hand, different groups of them seem to have different distances they're comfortable with. It's not like they've all solved the same optimization problem to three decimal places - some are confident and some are wary.

Of course, there are lots of stories of animals who got overly familiar with humans right up until the humans surprised them. As a funny example, I remember one time a cat that had grown up around my not-very-athletic family escaped the house and had to be brought back inside. At one point, it made a break for it along the long side of the house and was visibly shocked when my runner of a fiance ran it down and cut it off. This wasn't its first time running from us, but it had never run from him before, and it clearly didn't think humans could be that fast.

I don't think animals optimize as hard for benefit in everything as biology might lead you to believe. They build experience. They make mistakes. They're very cautious in new situations, but they can also be confident to the point of cocky if they think they know what you can't do. There's lots and lots of videos of cocky animals guessing wrong. It makes sense to me that maybe every individual animal isn't prudently optimizing hard for its own survival so much as that the group of them, with different temperaments, try different things and sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't and maybe there's a balance between weeding out dumb ideas and retaining the capacity to try things.

I think the idea that animals are always optimizing for survival and that everything must be for some benefit is misleading anyway. I mean, in an ultimate sense, you could say the same thing about humans, that they must always be optimizing for survival and reproduction, and whether or not that's true, it's definitely not true in a simple and obvious way on the level of day-to-day activities. We do a lot of dangerous and dumb and non-productive stuff. I don't think animals are different.

In fact, it makes sense to me to leave some reserve capacity. If surviving in good times takes all your time and energy, what are you going to do in hard times? Therefore animals typically have a lot of time for goofing off, and that certainly seems to me like what they're doing most of the time. They would similarly have room for trying stupid things and taking unnecessary risks.

A favorite video on the topic: https://youtu.be/UezzQSUwIgo

Why do video games kinda suck now, compared to the 90's? I mean, same reason as Hip Hop does. Same reason Star Wars does. Lots of passion is poured into things that are new and exciting, and lots less when they become familiar and expected.

Honestly, almost any band follows the same trajectory. They suck but have raw energy for a couple albums. Then they become more polished and have a few awesome albums. Then they get too polished, or they've explored the original concept and have to experiment unsuccessfully, or they just don't know how to recapture the magic while staying fresh, and they kind of start to suck again.

All that analysis about servers and LANs and such, I don't disagree with. But I also think it's a symptom of a much larger phenomenon: the cultural energy has passed the thing by. Love of the thing for its own sake results in generously empowering players. Less power and subtle sucking results from less love.

For an example of something right now moving from "awesome" to "overly expected and starting to suck", I might point at podcasts.

That's not to say you can't make great games now - you clearly can. But a community full of novelty and energy and innovation and inspiration attracts genius and passion in a way that a safe investment never can.

... I naturally play faster than 2 moves per second sometimes.

From the article:

> The hiring freeze is governmentwide, whereas a pause on communications and travel appears to be limited to the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), NIH’s parent agency. Such pauses are not unprecedented when a new administration comes in. But some NIH staff suggested these measures, which include pulling job ads and rescinding offers, are more extreme than any previously.

...

> Previous administrations have imposed communications pauses in their first days. And the administration of Barack Obama continued a cap on attendance at scientific meetings first imposed by the George W. Bush administration, which in some cases meant staff canceled trips to meetings.

> But an immediate, blanket ban on travel is unusual, says one longtime researcher in NIH's intramural program. “I don't think we've ever had this and it's pretty devastating for a postdoc or graduate student who needs to present their work and network to move ahead in their career,” the researcher says.

This is not an extraordinary event. It is not an attack on the NIH. It is a transitional pause, which is substantially normal when administrations change hands. The wailing and moaning is silly. Give it a week.

I have been through some really awful experiences in the workplace in the last few years, and some of the most egregiously abusive behavior came from another woman. Women can be incredibly cruel to each other, and this woman in particular seemed to have it out for other women. Women are not inherently saints, and they are not inherently kind to other women.

On the other hand, I have often, often worked on teams that were (except for me) all men, but by and large they were men who had mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters that they loved, and who therefore had no trouble relating to me with respect and affection. While it is true that some men treat women specifically badly, and that some men treat people generally badly, it is not true that men in general treat women badly. Quite the opposite.

It does take a moment, as a woman, to find your feet socially in an all male space. But does it not always take a moment to find your feet in any new space? I have generally found that what makes it go smoothly is the fact that we are all hackers. If anything, it is all the walking on eggshells about sexism that makes social integration awkward at first. People are trying to figure out how they are "supposed" to behave around me, worried that I will be aggressive socially and legally. When we focus on the work we do together and the love we have in common for the field, we become friends naturally and get along well.

I myself think all the hand-wringing over demographics has been a waste of time at best and counterproductive at worst. I think it makes more sense to focus on developing virtue, civility, and good leadership among the people who find themselves here.