kip/bot/blog

Just started Adaptive Path’s Subject to Change, and it’s shaping up to be an important read. Only about 30 pages in, but already have had some great insights:

Brand strategy can ruin experience strategy — creating a brand is like projecting a personality. “These are the words we want you to use when you think of us” is not a response to customer needs. No matter how well-grounded the personality is in a cultural trend or audience insight, brand strategies don’t point to experience design.

Products should be like magic — with Arthur C Clarke’s passing, people have been quoting his line “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”. It’s a phrase that tends to highlight the alienating effects of a feeling of magic. But Subject to Change argues that magic is our goal:

No one wants to deliver a product that mystifies its audience. In fact, the inception of most new products is spurred by a need to address an experiential concern. [But] Customers have little appreciation for the technical workings of a product. Beyond the interface, everything else might as well be magic. Think about a light switch. You flip a swtich; a light turns on. How many of us care how it works? Or you put things in the refrigerator, and a day later, when you take them out, they’re cold. Magic. You pick up a handset, press seven or ten digits, and are talking to someone far away. Magic.

A tempered definition of magic helps us understand the long-sigh (which may be close to the long wow) of a good product. I also like the “inception of most new products is spurred by a need to address an experiential concern”. That’s the most sober, non-fetishized way of describing Apple’s non-innovative, second/third/fourth to market design-focused approach to product design, going all the way back to the Mac (”computers for the rest of us”).

In this spirit of energetic non-fetishized discource, the book also debunks the hype around being new, being different, and being innovative as virtues unto themselves. By grounding the conversation in experience, it provides focus (while at the same time making our design jobs harder to do, and richer in reward).

Diggin’ it.

I blogged an HBR article a while back, questioning, among other things, how innovative Google really is.  Some news stories today, highlight some overlooked areas where Google is doing some interesting, potentially innovative things:

• App Engine — NYT article today talks about Google’s plans to move App Engine into the enterprise space by opening it up to 10,000 developers.  It’s a small launch, limited to apps written in python in the beginning, and it’s a late entrant to a field where SalesForce and Amazon have experience, if not dominance, but it’s a real move, based on another innovation:
• GFS — not news, not surprising, and I can’t tell if it’s good or not, but Google File System can fall under the umbrella of innovation, or innovation-friendly.  (Taking control of the infrastructure.)
• SalesForce alliance — NYT article briefly describes how Google is tying its Office apps into SalesForce’s suite of offerings to compete with MSFT.  Whether Google’s productivity apps on the web will win out over MSFT’s client or server based apps is the big question, but I have to acknowledge that the apps are lightweight, clean enough to hook into other software, and scalable.

I don’t think this makes the HBR article less silly, however.  The examples above are reminders that there are other things going on at Google beyond the usual gmail, Google Earth, ad serving, and blogger acquisition that most articles talk about.

Google’s ability to develop them and wait years to monetize them, however, still comes down to cash flow.  This still means we have little to learn from Google about innovation.

I’ve been seeing a lot of steampunk pics and references in my web trolling lately. Despite being a fan of the aesthetic, the not the fiction so much, I was stumped to see this one at Steampunk Workshop:

It’s a Mac Mini inside an old-fashioned (circa: steampunk) tin.  The picture below of modded headphones also comes from the Steampunk Workshop. But they strike me as pre-atomic-era SF, sitting more comfortably next to an oscilloscope than a brass input device.

Why are designers are getting such a kick out of steampunk mods of Apple stuff? The ultimate design objects being modded and retrofied to the place where there original design is not only lost, but are pushed in a distinctly mechanical direction?

The charm of steampunk for me is that it hearkens to the last great age of the renaissance person: late 19th century Europe, especially England. It’s a time when people could still dabble in many fields and make contributions in them: astronomy, electricity, biology, studies of the ether, psychology were all still open enough that, dare I say it, amateurs could still make discoveries or meaningful contributions in those fields while writing lame poems and playing the pianoforte after dinner for guests.

Or maybe it’s the time of the literary engineer — someone out of a Jules Verne novel who knew the classics, might quote Shakespeare, and still be able to improve on a thermal combustion engine and then house it in a mahogany case with brass fixtures. Sherlock Holmes is the quintessence of the literary scientist. Despite some embarassing gaps of ignorance, Holmes was a chemist, a historian, and a supremely gifted violinist who lived surrounded by those same brass-handled cabinets filled with news clippings, biological samples, ashes from cigars, shag tobacco, and sheet music.

This is the appeal of many adventure games, particularly Myst (all about the brass and amateur science), Jules Verne, the emerging adventure game sensibility in Dan Brown and other ‘manuscript’ genre novels. Even Bioshock with its emphasis on an aether-like technology and art deco setting, hearkens back to something more steampunk than cyberspace.

My enjoyment of steampunk is probably due to the demise of the literary engineer. There’s just too much to try and know and lifehackery has us focused on efficiency. I regularly see people on Facebook proclaiming that they don’t read, or don’t read fiction. I have friends who find literature inefficient and while they care about aesthetics, it feels like an efficient post-Swiss design nod to the finer things. The Mac Mini setup above has flourishes and embellishments — its charm is in its non-cleanness. Its celebration of artifice makes it tactile, places it in the realm of the craftsmen, implies the odors of wood and metal polishes, even celebrates its intricacy. By inviting us in to the mechanical intricacies of an object, steampunk acknowledges that we understand it and turns that understanding into something aesthetic.

Some time last year, I got sick of listening to people complain about the negative effects of technology.  It may have been when I got my Sony book reader, but I think it goes back earlier to when some ninny sent me a Thomas Friedman column, in which Friedman suggested that we had gone too far with technology.  The column was nauseating NY liberalism at its snooty self-important worst:

I arrived at Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport the other night and was met by a driver sent by a French friend. The driver was carrying a sign with my name on it, but as I approached him I noticed that he was talking to himself, very animatedly. As I got closer, I realized he had one of those Bluetooth wireless phones clipped to his ear and was deep in conversation. I pointed at myself as the person he was supposed to meet. He nodded and went on talking to whomever was on the other end of his phone.

When my luggage arrived, I grabbed it off the belt; he pointed toward the exit and I followed, as he kept talking on his phone. When we got into the car, I said, “Do you know my hotel?” He said, “No.” I showed him the address, and he went back to talking on the phone.

After the car started to roll, I saw he had a movie playing on the screen in the dashboard — on the flat panel that usually displays the G.P.S. road map. I noticed this because between his talking on the phone and the movie, I could barely concentrate. I, alas, was in the back seat trying to finish a column on my laptop. When I wrote all that I could, I got out my iPod and listened to a Stevie Nicks album, while he went on talking, driving and watching the movie.

After I arrived at my hotel, I reflected on our trip: The driver and I had been together for an hour, and between the two of us we had been doing six different things. He was driving, talking on his phone and watching a video. I was riding, working on my laptop and listening to my iPod.

There was only one thing we never did: Talk to each other.

It’s a pity. He was a young, French-speaking African, who probably had a lot to tell me. When I related all this to my friend Alain Frachon, an editor at Le Monde, he quipped: “I guess the era of foreign correspondents quoting taxi drivers is over. The taxi driver is now too busy to give you a quote!”

I found this infuriating.  The assumption that a cab driver is just dying to be a reporter’s ‘vox populi’, or that he shouldn’t be allowed to entertain himself on the job (presumably Friedman doesn’t listen to music while he writes or watch TV while doing email at night), or cabbies choosing not to talk to a passenger who means nothing to him was somehow wrong, clearly, as indicated by the incoherence of the sentence, bugged me.

What bugged me most, though, was the way Friedman was judging another person’s use of technology through his own lens.  So the Jan Chipchase article in today’s NYT, has a great, liberating moment:

This is when I voiced a careless thought about whether there might be something negative about the lightning spread of technology, whether its convenience was somehow supplanting traditional values or practices. Chipchase raised his eyebrows and laid down his spoon. He sighed, making it clear that responding to me was going to require patience. “People can think, yeah, monks with cellphones, and tsk, tsk, and what is the world coming to?” he said. “But if you wanted to take phones away from anybody in this world who has them, they’d probably say: ‘You’re going to have to fight me for it. Are you going to take my sewer and water away too?’ And maybe you can’t put communication on the same level as running water, but some people would. And I think in some contexts, it’s quite viable as a fundamental right.” He paused a beat to let this sink in, then added, with just a touch of edge, “People once believed that people in other cultures might not benefit from having books either.”

Finally.

Nuts and Volts is one of the few magazines I subscribe to that I go through cover to cover each month. This is odd, cuz I don’t really understand it and read very little of it. It’s one of those magazines, like certain books I own, that I aspire to read and which I benefit from looking through.

For the uninitiated (or well-adjusted), Nuts and Volts is an electronics hobbyist magazine. It’s got product reviews, news (including the circuited contact lens), projects each month, loads of advertisements (which is a big part of the charm - electronics geeks writing copy and figuring out images that sell), tutorials, circuit walk-throughs.

My knowledge of electronics came from a month between jobs where I mucked around with the Arduino and some solderless breadboards. I’m better than a beginner, but the intermediate stuff in Nuts and Volts is beyond me right now. So, each month I browse it looking for content that helps me past my current plateau of understanding and, more importantly, I revel in the making culture that I admire.

The April 2008 issue (cover above) had particular charms for me. The cover story is “High Voltage Power Supply”(!) featuring a nixie display board and the line: “It’s fun to collect and experiment with forgotten technology! But, you will need a stable high voltage power supply to get started.” This might be the equivalent of the swimsuit issue for Nuts and Volts readers . . . I really can’t tell.

I loved this piece, a project for a timed/self-monitoring bird feeder, requested by a reader:

Retired, limited income, limited mobility guy . . . and they do a project for him to build a bird feeder. love Love LUV it.

And, lastly, you gotta love the advertisements:

For some sad reason, I was thinking about software design and development this morning.  Then I stumbled into doing some GoodReads reviews, ranking, and shelving. During this session, I noted that The Mythical Man Month is pretty much spent (we’ve absorbed it all several times over, and those who haven’t won’t be able to get past the IBM acronyms to make sense of the book). I also expressed my worries that a book about prototyping is going to be wonk-city, focusing on flows and block diagrams with sharp, deadening analytic edges.  Then I wrote up a bit about Paul Graham’s Hackers and Painters, whose title I loved and which is a pretty good read on a wide range of subjects (craftsmanship, HR, inspiration and innovation). Then I got this screen:

How cool is that. My non-fiction interests in a more creative side of software, points me to John Irving, McCarthy, an interesting choice of Camus. Compare to Amazon:

Yes, the titles are all relevant, but the GoodReads recos are serendipitous, surprising, tasty. I also like the name of GoodReads reco engine: richRelevance. Something worth shooting for.

The widely blogged NYT article about the new interfaces has a nice passage about the new breed of designer emerging, one who codes.  The article describes how the Wii and iPhone are beacons of a move from the mouse-gui mode of interface that has dominated the last 20+ years of computing. (It does the obligatory Minority Report mention, of course.)

The transition to more immersive displays is happening in part because of more powerful computer hardware, but also because of an explosion of more powerful programming tools. These tools offer visual effects that were once within the grasp of only the most skillful programmers to a wide audience with only basic skills.

“The old paradigm is breaking down,�? said Paul Mercer, senior director of software at Palm Inc. “It used to be that you needed to be a visionary and technologist like Michelangelo, but we’re turning that corner.�?

INDEED, the more powerful graphics-oriented software has spilled over into the creation of palettes for a new generation of software-oriented artists. One new programming language, Processing, is an extension of Sun’s Java designed specifically for students, artists, designers, researchers and hobbyists who are interested in programming images, animations and interactions. It has been used extensively at “Design and the Elastic Mind,�? a digital art exhibition now at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

I’m not sure that they’ve captured the dynamic exactly.  Programming tools are becoming more powerful, to be sure, but designers (especially the under-25 set cited in the NYT article) are becoming more technical.  Processing, or Proce55ing, is not Logo or pure kids stuff.

Fun little article in the Sunday NYT about the influence of Gary Gygax on generations exposed to D&D. Sunday is when things get summed up from a longer perspective than the news itself, so it makes bigger claims than the obituary.

For us, the character sheet and the rules for adventuring in an imaginary world became a manual for how people are put together. Life could be lived as a kind of vast, always-on role-playing campaign.

Don’t give me that look. I know I’m not a paladin, and I know I don’t live in the Matrix. But the realization that everyone else was engaged in role-playing all the time gave my universe rules and order.

We geeks might not be able to intuit the subtext of a facial expression or a casual phrase, but give us a behavioral algorithm and human interactions become a data stream. We can process what’s going on in the heads of the people around us. Through careful observation of body language and awkward silences, we can even learn to detect when we are bringing the party down with our analysis of how loop quantum gravity helps explain the time travel in that new “Terminator�? TV show. I mean, so I hear.

The writer, an editor from Wired, goes a little farther than I would, or did. I’m not so sure that D&D kinked us to understand people better, but it fer sher made us more proficient at reducing them and their actions to flow charts and equations.

The article’s worth a read if only to check out the info-graphic, a boxes and arrows play on D&D-driven geekness. It may span too many generations, though. The clip I grabbed shows the TRS-80 and cassettes and Captain Crunch, but also covers Vin Diesel, Peter Jackson and LOLCats. Still, fun exercise to look at the black boxes . . .

Not sure I completely understand this, but Rock, Paper, Shotgun is reporting an MMORPG which is being created by one developer (Eskil Steenburg) who is using generative design techniques to create his world. The idea of a single programmer/artist creating anything game-like is exciting in the age of 30 person EA teams being needed for everything. But to have it be a generatively designed world, and one that looks like the screenshots here, is amazing. RPS is also gaga:

Since Steenberg is a one man show, he’s relying on clever maths to build the world for him and then clever gamers to come in and help him figure out where to take it, and what to do with it.So far he’s already populated it with weird animals and wondrous, gaseous visuals, and he intends to build the world into a kind of communal adventure, where gamers work together to furnish a central village, defend it from enemy attack, and explore the surround world and its many dungeons. Players will be able to do things like deform elements of terrain, allowing them to build tunnel networks or walls to defend their property. Items will also be intended for the good of all as Steenberg creates them and drops them into the world. You won’t be picking up rifles in your adventures, but more likely the plans for the rifle-building machine, that can then be utilised by everyone in your village. Part Zelda, part Tale In The Desert, part adventure shooter, and wholly abstract and beautiful, Love looks the kind of amalgam of art, programming and internet savvy that we’ve desired without even being able to imagine. It has the potential, and Steenberg has the huge intellect, for this to be one of the most precious events in PC gaming.

The glowing passage above arose from seeing Steenberg (the programmer) at GDC. (i’m not sure I’m all that excited about ‘gaseous visuals’, but the rest sounds nifty.) The site for the game is a cryptic mix of vision language for the game (love is . . .) and techno-speak describing the engine and tools for creating within it. Probably wisely, there is no place to sign up. Steenburg is saying he only needs a couple hundred players to validate and build the world.

Konigi has a post today about Blind Text Generator, shown below:

It’s got the traditional greek more accurately labelled with the Latin Cicero, it’s got some Kafka text (from Metamorphosis) and does a nice job chopping it up into paragraphs, and character counts.

The Konigi post has some comments about the laziness of using greek:

I prefer not to use dummy text, because creating wireframes and comps that reflect how they will really look and function is what people pay me for, and is a sign of a lazy IA/IXD. Plus it can be really enjoyable to write real fake copy.

Real fake copy, however enjoyable to write, can also be messy, so I don’t buy the notion that it’s laziness (especially when one is creating systems for content delivery — article templates and the like). But, if one wants something that feels more real, and is actually kind of eerie, I recommend Hexatron’s wisdom generator. (Scroll to the bottom of the page and look for “Endless Wisdom”.) It’s based on an algorithm from Kernighan & Pike that chops up a real piece of text and reparses it into something that feels like the real thing . . . until you try to parse it. Check out an old testament passage generated by the algorithm:

The Bush speak one is also fun.