Thoughts & Recreation by Ben Lifton

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editors Dear Reader, Welcome to our dream come true. It took an amazing amount of effort and dedication from those involved, but our small team brought together stellar content, beautiful design and amazing presentation to create the very first issue of Thoughts & Recreation. What you see in the following pages are the first attempts at creating a magazine that will reach out to young adults and show them that in their everyday thoughts and experiences are things that many will find interesting, sometimes funny, but most importantly things that are shared. The stories are ours, but the experiences are universal. We want our magazine to be collected and continuously enjoyed by our readers. Whether itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s through the words or in the pictures, we want our stories to always show you something that is true and relevant each time you return to it. Thoughts & Recreation was only made possible by you, so we owe you our immense gratitude. Thank you for taking an interest in our stories and thank you for sharing them. Now turn this page and go explore! Sincerest regards, Jack Redden & Kyle Meyr

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T&R | June 2013 | Issue One

CONTENTS MASTHEAD #4 #12

The Showing The Importance of Recreation

#20

Indigo Earth

#24

The real world, is what they called it

#28

Fearless

#32

Is anybody out there?

#36

When It Finally Hits you

Funland

#50

The Unthinkable

EDITORIAL

CONTRIBUTORS

EDITORS Jack Redden & Kyle Meyr

WRITERS Tim Greensmith Caroline Schmitt Jack Redden Kyle Meyr

Creative Director & Design Ben Lifton FEATURES EDITOR Jack Redden Production MANAGER Reena Jokhan & Ben Lifton Public relations Sybil Virgo

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#38

Photographers Kyle Meyr Caroline Schmitt Tim Greensmith Jack Redden ILLUSTRATORS Alfredo Rodriguez

Interview

& G

THOUGHTS AND RECREATION Magazine is published independently by UNIVERSITY OF THE ARTS LONDON No part of this magazine may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or resold without prior written consent of the publisher. T&R Magazine recognises all copyrights contained in this issue.

The articles appearing within this publication reflect the opinions and attitudes of their respective authors and not necessarily those of the publishers or editorial team. T&R Magazine is published BIannually ISSN 1745-9168

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THE SHOWING words & photography// Tim Greensmith

hen I met Sam, the day before his show, he seemed nervous. We were inside Vyner street gallery, East London. Dozens of other galleries saturate the surrounding area. It’s about 10 minutes’ walk from Bethnal Green station. I usually avoid art openings, and if I’m honest, the whole area entirely. I studied Art & Design when I was 17, became sick of the over-analysis and dropped out. I just wanted to take photographs, I didn’t want to paint, sew and sculpt. I knew Sam was going to be showing some of his paintings and I wanted to check them out. I’ve known Sam for about 7 years give or take, and I knew he drew, painted, made videos and illustrated. But, apart from a few drawings and some videos, I hadn’t seen any of his work. Sam flits between a chair and various places around the room. He adjusts lighting, making sure everything is perfect. He had already been to the gallery the day before. Notes he has made for the orientation and positioning of his paintings are scrawled in pencil on the floor - ‘That’s perfect - Sam’. I tell Sam that I don’t usually go to things like his show. “I know”, he says “I don’t either. They are bullshit. I don’t even like art. I just paint because I have to”. Happy that he had done all he could, we grabbed a beer. We spoke about parties we had been to together. Parties are where we usually see each other these days. One summer, he walked into darkness and ended up knee high in a pond. He spent the rest of the night with weeds on his jeans and water in his boots. I can’t imagine that happening to anyone else. We drink quickly and then we part ways. “Make sure you come tomorrow”, he says. “No one else will”. … While some glance at the paintings for mere seconds, others seem to stop and take the time to really study them. I watch the people come and go for a couple of hours and then I realise something. Art has become a sort of cultural fast food. People come >> 4 | THOUGHTS & RECREATION | www.thoughts&recreation.com

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in off the street, get their fix, maybe take a photo to tweet or share, and then go. Something which someone may have spent hours, days or even months to create is dismissed within a couple of seconds. Mindful of this, I ask Sam how long the paintings took him to make. “They were the accumulation of 2 years of working with natural textures. I painted them separately over the space of six months. But if I had to do them back to back, it would probably take me about a week”. “What are you going to do next”? “I’m going to give up painting and go back to videos” “Videos?” “Yeah, I’m going back to my real passion. I’m thinking of making some kind of installation narrative. What that is yet is still a bloody mystery”. … As I stood outside the gallery, throwing back a beer and smoking a cigarette, I watched the people begin to leave. I noticed some guy and his girlfriend stand against a wall with their bikes, drinking Red Stripe. They had been there all night, not talking to anyone, not going into any places. I got the impression that they were there only to be seen. Whether to be seen as not following anyone else or what, I didn’t know. But what I did know is that they were trying so desperately to be different, that to me, they became like every other person that looked the same. I snapped out of the dark mood that had overtaken me, gathered my thoughts and prepared to leave. The moment I moved, a man turned to his companion while shaking his head. “It was all very…‘studenty’ wasn’t it? Not very good”. Even though it was not my work, I thought, “Fuck you. What have you ever done?” SPRING / SUMMER 2013

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THE SHOWING

F E AT U R E S M

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The

Importance OF

Recreation Recreations are a rarity in the labyrinth that is London. It is unhealthy. Man needs a recreation. We need an escape. Mine is skiing. words & photography// KYLE MEYR

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he high I get from skiing will never be matched while I am in London. In a city where snow is a cause for concern, I consider myself lost. There is no room here for a skier. Even more concerning, there is no room here for recreation. From A to B by unnatural and enjoyable means; that is what recreation means. It is an alternative way to navigate life, a re-creation of how humans were meant to explore the world purely for the sake of fun and self-improvement. Recreations are a chance to enjoy life at leisure. It is our opportunity to escape the stress and pressures of life. They are a vital part of life, a human right even, and define personalities, bring people together and keep people healthy, mentally and physically. That is why I am concerned that there are not enough opportunities for recreation here in London. Constantly surrounded by walls, the incentives to get outside and actively keep up a recreational hobby are almost as low as the opportunities to do so. London has a selective opportunity for competitive sports, but beyond the few activities that can be done on pavement in close-quarters (like skateboarding and cycling), there is no inexpensive chance to really explore the environment at one’s own pace. This is why I love skiing. It isn’t a competition, the playing field is practically limitless and no one’s opinions matter. The moment is yours, and yours only, to pick whatever line you want and charge it to your heart’s content. Imagine, from bottom to top on a chairlift with wide eyes as you creep slowly over the peak. Escaping the mountain’s shadows to become a part of the skyline, you slide along the top of the world until you reach the line of your dreams. You stop, take a deep breath and close your eyes, but you see the path in-front of you just as vividly as you had when they were open.

Typically, you are helpless against Mother Nature, but today you work beside her and suddenly you are invincible. You kick the snow off of your skis facing down the mountain and into the abyss. Suddenly, any other lifestyle seems ridiculous. That desk job, your school, those over-crowded walls you navigate to get home, your cramped apartment in a noisy neighborhood, they all seem obscene. Why would you ever live like that? Where is the freedom and liberty in that life? A quick push with your poles, some turns and a drop; airtime is the ultimate freedom. For that one-second, there are absolutely no strings attached. Life’s greatest boundaries are finally on your side. Snow, cold and gravity are your tools. Life is your bitch. I imagine that the closest I will ever get to this feeling in London is suicide. Toes on the edge of the building, the cold wind in my face and a bird’s-eye-view of everything that once towered over me. Maybe it is the feeling of falling that I am addicted to? It is the ultimate freedom; a defiance against the Earth’s grasp. For those very few seconds, no one and nothing can take away your freedom, your right to happiness. You are all that matters. Nothing is tangible and there is no time for thought, it is just you and your instincts. But, it is that feeling and the promise that I can return to it whenever I want that keeps me off of that building. This is what skiing is to me. It is as close as I will ever get to a prolonged fall. It is the ultimate freedom, the ultimate expression of self-reliance and independence. Skiing is the only moment when the only person I need to trust in is me. For those few moments that I’m falling I belong to no one, the world is mine and so am I. Everyone needs moments like these; moments that remind them of how little these walls mean. It is a shame of how inaccessible these moments are in London, but regardless, London has its very own recreational activities too.

“I imagine that the closest I will ever get to this feeling in London

is suicide.”

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The Importance of Recreation

F E AT U R E S M

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The Importance of Recreation

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Indigo

EARTH: “Does anyone remember Hooch?”

Amy, Ben, Jess, Tom and Facy met on the first day of their uni course and decided to form an alt-folk band on the spot. Three years later, Indigo

Earth are juggling making music on a professional level with day jobs and reality that sometimes means hours of fruitless rehearsing and fights that lead nowhere. For a portrait that is not so much about music but about the character of five people who decided to play no matter what, Caroline accompanied them during rehearsals in the run-up to their acoustic night ‘Indigo Wednesday’ in East London.

words & photography// cAROLINE SCHMITT

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“They’re in their sphere again,” says Amy when she lets me in. The boys and Jess don’t look up. I haven’t yet realised we’re in a spacious kitchen somewhere in Finchley Central, I’m too fascinated by the obvious presence of this ‘sphere’ which supposedly means the band has reached a level of musical unity that seems somewhat challenging to get to. “You’re all over the place!” “It’s because I’m too fast.” “Isn’t that what I just said?”. Amy and Ben are the lead singers, spending most of their time arguing but producing catchy melodies and strong lyrics along the way. They are also a couple but that doesn’t seem a realistic concept when you first meet them. On top of the piano that’s not in use today is a card that reads ‘Thank you Jess for teaching us to do music’ in colourful letters. When they finish playing their song for the first time since I’ve arrived, Ben glances over to Amy and says: “Try to stay away from that whoohoo pop star melody,” to which Amy casually remarks: “Did you hear that? I just unlocked my holy voice again. Holy shit!” Ben sighs and says: “I think we should give this one a break.” Indigo Earth are in a phase of writing new songs and giving their old folk style a revamp with

Jess’s dad Graham joins the scene, initially to make tea but by the time he remembers that, the kettle has already cooled down. When the piece finally sounds round and well-crafted, Amy suggests: “Let’s call it Mirror, Mirror.” Tom objects: “There’s already a film with that name.” “In that case, let’s call it Old Men’s Farts.” Deciding to worry about a name at a later stage, they play the first chords to a song that Amy has just started writing last week. Ben shouts in the

“You’ve created a Frankenstein!

Stop Amy!” electric influences. In 2012, they played hundreds of gigs and festivals, whereas 2013 is a year of going back to university rehearsal rooms or parks to explore, jam and experiment together. As the song approaches its loudest peak, drummer Tom’s otherwise serious face lights up and there is even the odd smile. He then loses it a little, drifts off to a different rhythm and makes the song sound too restless and exhausting. SPRING / SUMMER 2013

middle: “You’ve created a Frankenstein! Stop!” She then shoots back: “This is way too fast! What have you taken today?” In the middle of their arguments, a therapist would probably say there isn’t much hope for a flourishing future but that is only the first impression. The difference in Indigo Earth is that they fight in order to get better, to unlock that high voice again and to take their audience’s breath

away. In short, to write music that sounds perfect in their ears. And who else could know how it’s done if not five graduates of Commercial Music Performance? After that short exchange of angry noises, Amy suddenly starts to jump up and down as if she was playing the trumpet for a street parade. The ensemble bursts into hysteric laughter. They could turn to the next song now to escape the following conflicts, but they don’t because they aren’t anywhere near the ‘sphere’. “I think we need a bit more of a spacey vibe,” suggests Ben. Without any further ado, the rest start to play in whatever they think spacey means. Jess says: “There’s some fighting swing in every chord and I fucking hate it.” Tom takes his phone out and plays last week’s attempt. That brings everyone down but still, they did better than last week. It feels as if their instruments harmonise on a level that is already so united that anyone who is not part of them would hardly notice a misplaced chord. Perhaps that’s how every success story starts. “How does it feel now?” asks Ben after a few minutes. “It’s still too sudden. But what’s that noise?” says Amy. “It’s a ... dishwasher noise,” laughs Jess. Ben then asks if they could stop for today. “I think we shouldn’t until we found the right tempo. You’re being really weird today, Ben,” says Amy. Two seconds after, they have their guitars, pianos and drums back on and Ben’s body is the only one that shifts back and forth with the rhythm. >>

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INDIGO EARTH

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INDIGO EARTH

F E AT U R E S M

After another grumpy remark, Jess says: “Ben, you’re making mistakes just as much as everyone else, stop being so mean.” “I know, and that’s frustrating me. You know I’m tired.” “You’re being a dick.” He must be tired. In fact, all of them must be. For now, Indigo Earth is nothing but a very timeconsuming hobby they all happen to be extremely passionate about. In the day time, Amy works behind the bar at Shepherd’s Bush Empire, Ben in a pub, Jess for a little piano shop in Muswell Hill, Facy as a charity fundraiser and Tom is a teaching assistant. The truth swiftly ignored in the business is that there are bad days and today seems to be a particularly bad one. But fast forward 48 hours and Indigo Earth are preparing to go on stage at the The Chapel in Bethnal Green. Amy and Jess are the first to arrive, with the rest running a bit late because of work. When Tom, Facy and Ben do turn up, there’s cider, long hugs and expectant, nervous smiles. It’s their fourth acoustic night in this venue but the excitement remains.

possible and playing as if there’s no tomorrow. Harmonising as a team and having a distinguished sound might admittedly play a minor role as well. Before they start their final rehearsal for the night, Jess explains that there’s been another quite successful band from their university but they are “changing members all the time. We’re the only ones who stayed, until now we haven’t fallen out too badly! But it was so weird being assessed on Indigo Earth after finishing the course.” We’re interrupted by Ben who shouts through the room: “Hey, does anyone remember Hooch? It was the 90s first ever alcopop!” and takes a deep swig from that colourful bottle. Jess tells me about this band from Canterbury, Syd Arthur. “They do their own thing brilliantly and still play second on festivals, and then there’s people like Justin Bieber, who’s ... you know. London is hard music-wise because it’s so saturated.” Tonight, they are playing in a small chapel that has all the standard church equipment. Of course, that sufficiently explains why Ben uses a cross as a mic stander. “That’s just the best thing we’ve

“They are not some teenage cover band who play in their parents’ basement, united only by the daily dose of Kopparberg and

the growing circle of admiring school girls.” Maybe it’s because they are serious about this. They are not some teenage cover band who play in their parents’ basement, united only by the daily dose of Kopparberg and the growing circle of admiring school girls. Getting established in London means getting out there as often as SPRING / SUMMER 2013

got, man.” Amy grins, “That’s just so wrong.” As people start walking in, they’re not only treated with some fine folk tunes from other local bands, but also with a hug from each band member. The people attending started as supporters but by accompanying Indigo Earth along their way, have

become friends. Here we are, the show started at 7.30. One of the acts playing is Robbie Boyd who casually merges nerd glasses with poetry and who makes hordes of tourists fall in love with him, every Saturday on Portobello Road. The atmosphere is cosy, peaceful and intimate. Today, no one’s being a dick and everything goes the way it should. The new, rather electric folk sounds evoke many enthusiastic cheers and rounds of encouraging applause. The venue holds no more than 50 people making it feel like hanging with old friends in the living room of some very dedicated Catholics, or in that cosy kitchen in Finchley, whichever you prefer. The lighting of the venue is classic, and the light is streaming in from the windows. There is no smoke and mirrors here, and no pyrotechnics. The group has done their sound check, and all is sounding pretty good, as I have been here all day. I saw them once before, and the microphone cut out half way, so to save the situation, Amy passed the singing over to the crowd. It was a subtle save, and needed to be done. I couldn’t think of anything worse then the power failing during a performance. But luckily, the group is so tight on all licks and slides, they know all they need to about their music, and how to rectify any bad situation. Thank God tonight wasn;t one of them though. When I asked Amy whether she was okay with me following them around for a bit, she laughed and said: ‘I really don’t know if we’re exciting enough for that.’ No, from a perspective other than their rather mind-blowing musical style, they aren’t and that’s what makes them special. Indigo Earth are shockingly normal, shockingly ambitious and shockingly talented. It’s all about the music and will always be, because one of them will always start shouting if they’re in danger of losing sight of that sphere.

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THE

REAL WORLD

IS WHAT THEY CALLED IT

words & photography// KYLE MEYR

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couldn’t tell you exactly when it happened, but my final year of school was the point of no return. It was the year that I climbed out of the rut of my youth and onto the vast plateau that my teachers warned me of; the ‘real world’ is what they called it. Each direction up here leads to a cliff and the goal is to stay on top as long as possible. I have been up here for five years now. Shallower ruts track the plateau, some of them lead straight for the edges and others seem to just go in circles. My job is to dance in and out of them or carefully tread over and around. Five years and the real world has not gotten any less scary. There are too many options and every rut seems to go on too far for me to see the end of it. Some of them feel comfortable, but those are the ones I suspect lead towards the edges. It is a crapshoot and I am starting to miss the rut of my youth. It was simpler back then… Everything was. I decided to revisit a time in my life from about halfa-decade ago. I went back to the moment in time when I was on the edge of the real world facing the other way, waving goodbye to the comforts of youth still unaware of what life looked like over the walls of this deep deep rut I had happily been stuck in. I revisited my prom night. A basement bar just a few minutes from my flat was hosting a prom of their own just to tempt the nostalgia of a handful of 90’s kids. I went in suit and tie, fully prepared to lose myself in time. Streamers, balloons and hundreds of kids presumably here for the same reason as I awaited me in the basement. Visually, I was convinced; I am back at prom. Everyone seemed to want to play along. The bulk of the men wore suits with colorful shirts and ties that did not belong on someone in the real world. The women wore equally as vibrant gowns; some were even lucky enough to have come with a man who made the effort to buy them a corsage. They moved awkwardly, like someone who I would suspect had a hard time fitting into the

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terrifying social life of the real world. We were united by this sense of awkwardness; this was why we were all here. Nowhere else in London on that night was playing Mambo Nr. 5, a song no one knows how to dance to. That was what was so comforting; we were back in a moment defined by our ignorance to the social construct of the real world. When ‘Walking on Sunshine’ comes on, all we know to do is scream “Woah Oh! And don’t it feel good!” and jump around half-jokingly and half hoping the girl next to us is going to make the first move. I pulled out my mobile phone to check for messages and maybe Snapchat a picture of some of the jocks so accurately huddled around each other in their American-football uniforms. This might have been the most satisfying moment of the whole night. There was no reception in this basement. I looked up and realized that no one was texting, instagraming, facebooking, tweeting, etc. All I could do was laugh at the meatheads to the girl I was with in a sad attempt to hide my envy of their useless high school fame… The night was terrifyingly authentic. Apart from a lot of the grandeur of my first prom and the lack of pressure to lose my virginity, they had reconstructed that night and all it represented. No technology meant that the rest of the world did not matter and ‘romance’ was simply defined by the two lucky couples making out on the couches in the corner. It was a night defined by simplicity, albeit a more matured simplicity than the fondest days of my youth, but it was those days that this prom reminded us all of. It reminded us of back in the day when the one type of music you listened to or the one sport you played defined you. Social relationships were built around the schools your parents sent you to and the pinnacle of romance was holding a girl’s hand. Why am I still holding onto those days? What is so wrong with this real world that my teachers warned me about and why are we always complaining about it?

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THE REAL WORLD

F E AT U R E S M

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FEARLESS Despite the social and political unrest the recession has brought to those living in southern Europe, it’s the youth of all people who have decided to avoid complaining about the system and instead begun a search for personal talent and potential. For the ‘Generation Millennial’ in Barcelona, this seems to many a more sustainable and pleasant way of life, especially in comparison to spending each day 9 to 5 in a soulless grey office in wait of the elusive promotion. words & photography// cAROLINE SCHMITT SPRING / SUMMER 2013

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FEARLESS

F E AT U R E S M

n an economic climate driven by a constant anxiety of missing out in the job market, people in their 20s are unlikely to ever allow any gaps to appear in their CV that come from taking the time to find themselves and looking for the most suitable profession to pursue. Why would someone want to spend years studying and interning, finally making themselves attractive to potential employers to then just pull out right before that final jump towards the secure lifestyle every parent dreams about for their child? Surprising, brave and perhaps a bit reckless is the story of a young Catalan woman who left the kind of job that hundreds of graduates would arguably die for. Lidia Pitarch, 26, grew up in El Prat near Barcelona and graduated in Advertising and Public Relations. She landed a full-time job in a branding agency but after three years grew frustrated with the lack of challenge in her work and decided it about time for a change. On a unusually hot Friday in April 2013, she quit. This might not appear like a clever move when youth unemployment in Spain reached a historic high of 55.9% back in March. But Lidia wasn‘t gambling her future away, she was consciously deciding to do the one thing that is most uncommon in twenty-first century Western culture: she traded in a life of security and boring predictability in return for long days of cluelessness and realignment, in pursuit of a fulfillment that would arrive in the not too distant future. “I realised I had been working so hard for the last few years that I had lost my goal in life and wasn’t enjoying my youth.” Her last months at work were filled with stress and insecurity, heightened by an outbreak of demonstrations against the economy taking place on the Catalan streets and the uncertainty from the difficult decisions posed by what changes to make in her career. For her though, going through these experiences were essential in getting a clearer idea of her own identity. “The perfect world that our parents pictured us in is not out there waiting for us. There is one thing our generation shares: We are fearless. We chase our dreams with effort and we reinvent our lives. We seek happiness in life and we want a vocation rather than a profession.” It’s a notion often laughed at for being too romantic and only sees its reality in rather idealistic campaigns from brands like Nike (Just do it) and Diesel (Be stupid). But this year, a revival of that notion seems to have begun slowly spreading itself across Europe, initiated by the people of the nations the recession hit hardest.

Spain belongs to a group of southern European countries at the peak of an extremely high and long recession, and has just experienced a budget shortfall of 11% GDP. Extreme governmental austerity measures, severe cuts in health care, education and social benefits, have all led to 26% of Spain’s labour force becoming unemployed but none of this has helped prevent the depletion of the country’s GDP. Without looking at the influence these numbers have on youth culture and society, their impact can hardly be grasped. On May 15 2011, families, students, teachers, doctors and elderly people gathered in Madrid, Barcelona and 56 other Spanish cities to build the 15-M Movement: Fighting political corruption, the two-party system and of course, the welfare cuts.

in February 2011. What started as a small project refusing to “brag about fat clients” whilst trying to make its millions is now one of the most successful Catalan start-ups that dabbles in many areas of design such as stationery and bags whilst also pulling off many brand collaborations. One of their own book titles is Enamórate de tus ideas, trabaja con ilusión: Fall in love with your ideas and work with enthusiasm. It’s these sorts of stories and ideas that must seem particularly encouraging to a generation that finds itself stuck all day in an office waiting for that big moment when some senior manager finally discovers their hidden talents. It’s the Millennials who identify those talents from the start and work hard to optimise them to the point of making a living.

“There are worse things than failure. Like not even trying.”

Lidia was one of them. She demonstrated while in her last year of university. “Although I was aware of the social and economic crisis Spain was going through at that moment, I was optimistic enough to think a positive change was about to happen.” But two years later, Lidia could feel the pressure of change. She quit and gave life an opportunity to surprise her and lead her towards a new industry. She is currently applying for a job in Barcelona’s police department, together with 16,000 other applicants. For her, “you must seek happiness. And in case one scenario doesn’t work, find another goal and go for it. For me, life is based on the trial and error method.” An alternative method is to simply be creative and look for a solution from within your own mind. ‘Millennials’ and ‘Generation Y’ are terms used to describe the generation of 12 billion young professionals worldwide who live in a “forever beta-world.” The ‘Generation Millennial’ as they’re also known are criticised as unpredictable social media kids, but they know how to recognise opportunities and appreciate that the future cannot be controlled focussing instead on turning their work into pleasure and success. Mr. Wonderful, a company that calls itself a nonboring design studio was launched in Barcelona

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History teaches that every economy will recover sooner or later, but the youth doesn’t have time to wait. A fire inside makes them dig deeper and experiment with their own character, motivated by an economic climate that leaves them feeling as though they have nothing to lose. The fashion brand Diesel’s Be Stupid philosophy is provocative, helplessly idealistic and perhaps not for everyone, yet we should better live by its principles: “Like balloons, we are filled with hopes and dreams. But over time, a single sentence creeps into our minds: Don’t be stupid. It’s the crusher of possibility. It’s the world’s greatest deflator. (...) There are worse things than failure. Like not even trying.” Individual success stories show that passions, dreams and a sense of purpose will always hold steady in a person’s life, more so than a country’s economic strength. The indestructible flower, Lotus, represents ones strength to overcome any given situation. In that sense, finding one’s vocation and being willing to make risks and learn from failure is more sustainable than carrying on that boring job whilst hoping for the market to recover and waiting for the right time to swap industry. The right time is now if you already wake up each day feeling uneasy about what you do. Be fearless. SPRING / SUMMER 2013

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IS ANYBODY OUT

THERE? Finding the ‘social’ side of video games

Our experiences in video games have always benefited from having someone to share them with, but what happens when nobody seems interested in sharing anymore? words // JACK REDDEN photographs // KYLE MEYR

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IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?

“Alright, love, no need to push”, said the lady playing Project Gotham Racing 3. She was talking to me. We were both racing for 7th in an eight car race and I had just come into a corner much too fast and decided to throw my car into hers to keep myself from skidding right off of the track – it worked. This happened just over five years ago and it is one of my earliest experiences of meeting another gamer willing to interact with a random stranger in the faceless world of online gaming. This brief memory is important to me because it’s a contrast to something missing in online gaming today – social interaction. These kinds of random encounters with other gamers are no longer there to be found. I believe that people no longer choose to engage with one another. If an individual wants to include a social side to their gaming, they must now do so in dedicated communities, gaming clans and guilds, or by restricting themselves to their own friendship groups. No longer can it be found in our everyday experiences of the games we play online. Why is that? Why do people leave the talking to the AI, not bothering to plug in their microphones anymore? Is it because of those generic ten year-olds screaming down their microphones that seems to plague every gamer’s online experience, or is it something else? Whilst I can’t pretend to know I have all the answers, I am pretty confident that I’ve spotted a few of the problems. First of all: party chat. As Dan Howdle, the editor of X360 magazine explains: “Party chat killed it. While it made it altogether nicer and more friendly, it also forced people not to interact much with other parties.” It was in November about four and a half years ago when the Xbox Live Party feature was introduced to the world and allowed a total abandonment of the social aspects of the games being played with gamers now able to remain exclusively within their own little private ‘parties’ of up to eight players. A perfect example of what I feel are the devastating effects of party chat, is when I’ve been playing Halo 4 online for a few hours each night over the past couple of weeks and I am yet to meet a single gamer, besides my own friends, with a microphone plugged in and willing to talk. The only interaction that has taken place in this time was to listen to a gamer who had just done poorly in a game of Regicide plug in his microphone and tell us all: “Black Ops for the win, this game is horrific.” This is what we’re left with. “I believe we are seeing a significant decline in social interaction between online gamers. Online gaming is so pervasive now that the ‘coolness’ of interacting with someone across the world just isn’t there anymore. Now it seems as though all of the random people you actually hear online are there to troll or be annoying in general”, says Jack Pattillo, a senior producer at Achievement Hunter. I was once playing a few games of Fifa 09 online team play, where everyone played a single position that made up two teams of 10 vs. 10. I was lucky enough to be the final addition in a team of some very passionate Englishmen

who took the game of (virtual) football very seriously. We had a captain shouting out orders and the whole team was calling out open passes, telling each other who was in space and how much time they had on the ball. We played for many hours and it was some of the most fun I’ve ever had playing online. It’s one of my favourite stories to mention when I think about social interaction on an Xbox, but that was three years ago and I am still without any new stories to tell. Howdle also shares this problem: “I personally ran out of great stories, which used to happen nightly, about people I met, things they said, at the start of 2008. Things had become compartmentalised. I personally miss it and yearn back to the time that each time I went online to play something it was full of random people having random interactions to entirely random consequence.” So where have these random interactions gone? One place to look could be in the Xbox Live Friend’s list; looking at who we choose to game alongside might give a better idea of our own patterns of interaction online. Ashton Raze, a freelance journalist who has written for The Telegraph and GameSpot, gives a more enlightened view on the friend’s list’s role in all of this, by explaining that: “As time goes on, more and more people hit the 100 friends cap. 100 people is a lot of people, so chances are you’ll have quite a diverse range of friends to play with anyway. But it also means that meeting new players is potentially more difficult, when the only way to make a new friend you play with regularly is to delete an old friend. Perhaps if the cap was raised somewhat, people would be more likely to look for new, like-minded friends via games themselves.” Raze also believes that a decline in the social interaction within gaming doesn’t necessarily exist, he thinks that instead “gaming has shifted to be more in line with almost every other type of social interaction; more intimate, more organised, less reliant on strangers.” The reason being that “the majority of the time it’s an accepted thing that you’ll find the best experiences by being part of a community, friendship group, clan or guild.” If we are to believe this then it means that we must accept an inconvenient truth about the social side of gaming, that it has moved on elsewhere leaving us lonely gamers, those with their microphones still plugged in, looking for the same old experiences – those same ones that convinced us to buy a subscription to Xbox Live in the first place, in a place where they no longer exist, stubbornly ignoring exactly where it is they’ve now moved on to. There is also the possibility that these memories of spontaneous social interactions of gaming online are just a romanticised view of the ‘earlier days’ and I’m simply choosing to ignore the possibility that things actually haven’t changed, especially since there have always been those dreaded high-pitched 10-year-olds, and any notable experiences with random gamers were just lucky exceptions. It’s possible, but I don’t think social gaming has been so

“An inconvenient truth about the social side of gaming”

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IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?

F E AT U R E S M

static in its nature over the past few years. Even Raze concedes to the idea that the social elements of gaming have changed, accepting that “perhaps people were friendlier in the past purely because there were fewer people playing”, but he goes on to say that “the more popular something gets, the wider the range of people playing, so it’s not necessarily as easy to find people with mutual interests, and people go seeking out communities.” So what then are we left with? “Now when people think of voice communication while gaming, they think of the jerks who try to be loud or ruin it for everyone. The age of making prank calls is over and the age of online screaming has begun”, explains Pattillo. The social side of gaming it seems, at least on a casual level, is lost. It has moved on to the communities, to the clans and to the guilds and whatever remains behind has hidden itself within the party chat of Xbox Live, no longer daring to risk experiencing anything new. We must accept that no longer can we expect to drop into a game and have the world ready to talk to us, to want to interact with us and willing to act as our temporary friend. I think this is actually a very tragic realisation for online gaming. Perhaps to try and help solve the problem of a loss of online interaction, we should look back and remind ourselves of those same reasons we chose to plug our microphones in and take our gaming

online in the first place, all those years ago. ‘Cops and Robbers’ was the name of an advert Microsoft released for the Xbox 360 all the way back in 2006. I remember watching it and being hugely impressed with the message it created about what it meant to own a 360. At the time of the advert’s release, Richard Teversham was a director of marketing for the Xbox and the way he described the advert is a pretty good reflection of exactly what’s been lost in online gaming today. He said that the advert wanted “to show how Xbox 360 lets you play in unexpected, new ways and remind us of how we feel when we’re really having fun with our friends, [it] really brings out the sociability of Xbox 360 and taps into the playfulness that we all have in us”…or at least used to.

Featured Games: Project Gotham Racing 3 Halo 4 Fifa 09 And Call of Duty SPRING / SUMMER 2013

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WHEN

FINALLY

HITS YOU A night of mixing red wine with a symphonic concert begins an exploration of the notions of youth, stupidity and love. words // cAROLINE SCHMITT

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utting the glass of Burgundy down: two seconds. Walking into the auditorium, accompanied by dozens of people who are significantly older and significantly better dressed than I am: 35 seconds. Finding my seat on the upper balcony: 58 seconds. Being annoyed by two City workers in suits talking about the inability of one of their colleagues to negotiate with that terribly influential client from Prague: Five seconds. The auditorium is huge without feeling pompous or overwhelming. Each seating section is parted by red kitsch decor and every second seems to stretch towards eternity. Seven and a half minutes later, the ensemble enters the stage. Conversations fade out and one of the scariest human phenomena is getting louder and louder: Silence. One subtle flute is opening Allegro Con Brio of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 2. Beethoven has been criticised for changing its mood too quickly and too often in this movement. The suit guys next to me still haven’t stopped ranting and you know, that’s just it. It never stops in your head. ... You come home a bit before midnight, drop your bags on the floor, open the noisy window and breathe in some cold air. Maybe these few seconds are the only peaceful moments during the entire day. You’re exhausted. You tell yourself that busyness equals happiness, but it’s during these moments before midnight when you begin to grasp the extent of the ugly bubble you’ve created. If only the four-year-old from downstairs would have started screaming again, those epihpenial seconds would have just passed on unnoticed in the same pace that your days fly by. The piano, the oboes, bassoons, horns, strings and flutes are all playing in full volume now. We must have reached the Adagio. It’s played in E-flat major, the subdominant key. It’s funny because you have the guts to move to another continent with an ever-dropping bank balance, to tell your intimidating boss off for treating you like crap and God, you can even survive seven days without that bloody phone - but saying yes to a nonchalant date? That’s too much. Sorry, I’m not looking for anything right now. Just like during the Adagio, there are these moments of tension, they usually come when you least expect them. They put your mind in a spiral of What if ’s and the only thing that eventually stops it is remembering how many times things already went wrong. Jealous texts, smashing doors, annoying compromises, arguments over the same things over and over but the worst of all of them is the waking up one day and suddenly knowing you‘ve stopped loving the person lying next to you. You get used to wild nights and deep conversations with people who just get you and that’s amazing, but they’re also the reason you don’t feel the

loneliness it would be better to feel. It’s better to feel the absence of two hands that help you hold your worlds together because it shows the fallacy of being too often scared it might explode or melt or perform any other perfectly realistic miracle, the kind of stuff that you don’t talk about over coffee or on the train. Somewhere along the way, you stopped fighting for something that is more rewarding - those incredibly exciting and empty episodes of desire, fun, rejection and all the mess you confuse with intimacy in between. This is at the same point where your friends have a decent laugh when you tell them you met someone. Well well, how many days will it take this time to cleverly “figure out” what’s wrong with that person? Is something wrong with them or is it you who is too scared to take any risks that can’t be calculated? Is it you who is too busy at work, too busy building a glamourous career, too caught up in taking your own value from your creativity? The problem is that you’re so capable, so exceptionally good at what you’re doing. Perhaps that’s why you don’t notice that there’s no substance to it. The opera continues and just before the end is that final last climax, the one where everyone has always already tuned out and returned to real life. Then finally, it hits you and you‘re close to asking someone close by to punch you for being an idiot. You’re not going to lay on your death-bed, thinking, I wish I had spent more time in the office, or, I wasn’t really looking for anything. You’re too young to not fall in love every time someone takes your breath away. You’re too young to be so important, to have everything together, too young for a 24/7 sel f - optimi sation that avoids being vulnerable, that avoids risking failure or happiness where possible. What if you start being spontaneous again, let things happen, feel them, be alive, get hurt? Just do it. The fighting at 2am, the door slamming that you’d secretly like to be socially acceptable and the bad days when neither of you knows what to say and you can’t help but feel that old loneliness creep up again, but that’s okay because it will pass. But then there are the quiet moments. When they walk into the room and the world suddenly becomes a bit less grey, in fact, it’s a bit as if a whole cherry blossom tree just emptied itself out on your face in one go and you smile like an idiot, long after they’ve gone. It’s the cheesy photos in dirty bars. The turning up at each other’s place with their favourite cake after a rough day and the conversations that refuse to end because somehow they make you remember bits of your life that you’ve already forgotten, wonderful bits, and they just understand you in a way that you haven’t thought was possible. But it still never stops you asking what if ? or throwing in but all the time. But. But what if it doesn’t work out again and what if you end up asking your mum to post you those disturbing emo mixtapes you made at 15, just after having wisely concluded that no one’s heart has ever been more broken than yours? Yes. But what if it does.

“It’s a bit as if a whole cherry blossom tree just emptied itself out on your face in one go and you

smile like an idiot, long after they’ve gone.”

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Located in Londonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Piccadilly Circus, Funland is a place that was once able to offer everything you needed to enjoy being a kid. 38 | THOUGHTS & RECREATION | www.thoughts&recreation.com

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WELCOME TO

FUNLAND WHERE CHILDHOOD

PASTIMES HAVE COME TO

DIE words // JACK REDDEN photographs // KYLE MEYR

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n today’s world we see Funland as a nostalgia trip; it’s passive to us, we are grateful for the memories but we’ve moved on. These kinds of places are isolated. They’re hidden away from us and compressed into tiny offerings of fun and excitement that last only as long as the amount of change you happen to have in your pocket, instantly forgotten about the moment you walk away. The short spans of attention we give to a place like Funland has always been a thing taken for granted. We believe we will always be able to return to it and revel in it all again whenever we choose. But what remains of Funland now isn’t much and it’s getting worse. Some machines remain, but the people certainly don’t. The pool tables are worn and the games are breaking but nothing is improving. Instead everything continues to shrink. Eventually it will all be gone. Restaurants will replace it and hotels will come next. Funland resembles a time universal in our youth which we all recognise in our own way. But Funland is empty. It’s filled with the noise and lights from the games but nothing more. It is no longer a place that once offered us the chance to enjoy something right there in front of us, all in return for a few coins. The arcades, the bowling alleys, the cinemas and the pool tables are all backdrops to growing up. So was Funland. You don’t need to have spent much time in a place like Funland to recognise a Dance Dance Revolution or a Time Crisis II machine today. These games are a part of what we see when we look back on our youth. Funland is responsible for that, which in return should never be forgotten. SPRING / SUMMER 2013

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WELCOME TO FUNLAND

F E AT U R E S M

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WELCOME TO FUNLAND

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WELCOME TO FUNLAND

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WELCOME TO FUNLAND

F E AT U R E S M

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The

Unthinkable words // Robert Reed illustration // Alfredo Rodriguez

Our fictive friend, Robert Reed, has seized the chance to have a sit down and a quick drink with the long-forgotten creator of the Kony 2012 campaign, Jason Russell. Robert: Jason, thanks for coming and having a drink with me, I’m surprised you found the time, what with the Kony campaign going so strong and all. Jason: Kony?... Oh that’s right, that old thing. Robert: Er, right. Anyway, 2012 was undoubtedly one of the biggest years for you, it looked like millions were ready to take the streets, to put up the posters and buy all of that expensive merchandise you were selling, all to bring down this Joseph Kony fella you talked about on YouTube. Jason: Definitely, we had huge success over in the states. Whilst not quite millions, there were still thousands rallying in Washtington. Here in the UK though, different story. Robert: People weren’t so big on the gift kits over here? Jason: Apparently not. We set aside a day in April last year for everyone to turn up and show their support. Where I was, only about 7 actually turned up and frankly, I doubt they were even there for Kony. Robert: How come? Jason: They were all stood huddled outside a McDonald’s and refused to talk to any of us! They showed absolutely no interest in spending

the rest of the evening putting up our posters. Robert: Ah, well that’s a shame. Still, made a few million overall from the whole thing I bet. So tell me, what’s next on the agenda, Jason? A new line of tee-shirts, perhaps? Jason: Tee-shirts!? Bah. We’re way beyond that now, we all know about the trouble taking place over in the middle-east and we’re just about ready to cash-in on all that nonsense. We’re going to expand and get ourselves attached to everything we possibly can. We have a new line of sneakers coming out later this year, as well as our own brand of sports drinks …even our own fast-food chain! There’s a whole world of tragedy out there waiting to be exploited. Robert: You’re a cheeky fucker, Jason but a visionary nevertheless. Jason: Well thanks very much, Rob. I’ll have you know we’re in very high demand and - [gets distracted by a loud screech coming from the car park outside] Holy shit! I think somebody just winged my car trying to park. [Starts screaming out of the window] …I need to go and have a word with the fucker who just did that. [Quickly gets up to leave and starts screaming obscenities at anybody close by on his way out] Robert: Best of luck! Keep your clothes on though won’t you, Jason?

Interview

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THE UNTHINKABLE INTERVIEW

F E AT U R E S M

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T&R | June 2013 | Issue One

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Ben Lifton Anne Meyr Carole Cuneo Caroline Schmitt Daisy Plowright Ella Redden Jade Redden John Hennessey Melody Moxham Paula Leatherdale Silvia Cabra Riart

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THINK SMALL

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& G

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