C.J. Fisher's Blog

This is a love letter. A love letter to one of the most beautiful and engaging games I’ve ever played.

For a while I thought maybe BioShock Infinite was the best thing that ever happened to me, which is a commentary on how enamoured I was with the narrative but, I’ll admit, mostly on the fact I’m poorly adjusted.

For a long time, if someone asked me what my favourite game was I’d say Doom – arguably one of the most iconic, landmark moments in the history of gaming – or Assassin’s Creed 2, because Ezio, da Vinci and free running. But then BioShock Infinite came along and I found myself having conversations in my head: ‘Yeah, Doom, you were a childhood staple and I still hear demons grunting when I close my eyes, you were a literal game changer, buuuuuut you didn’t have an anachronistic Beach Boys barbershop quartet.’ And I think a lot of games fall foul of that same mistake. Sure, Dark Souls is great but it’s severely lacking in 60’s rock covers. There aren’t enough Good Vibrations in Civ V.

So, BioShock Infinite, I want to tell you that from the moment I entered a lighthouse until the final moments of the DLC, I was enraptured. I don’t care about the supposed plot holes because who really knows what would fucking happen: there are no rules, no real rules. Besides, I’ve seen an argument for everything, from Comstock to Burial‘s restrictions. It’s all constants and variables. And I fucking love you.

I love that the narrative was so intricately woven that I was rendered speechless as the credits rolled. That when I’ve watched other people play it, because I immediately sought to watch others experience what I had just gone through, they were equally as stunned. There are layers in BioShock Infinite that supersede the plot in a lot of movies, and this is all the more impressive because key moments aren’t found in laboured cut scenes, they’re effortlessly blended into the gameplay.

I love that BAC wasn’t a cash-grab detrimental to the main game, but instead enhanced it, undoubtedly gratifying fans of the wider series.

I love that you made me nostalgic for Columbia, a time and place that I’ve never been to, that has never existed.

I love that you gave me real characters, three-dimensional characters who grew and changed, characters I wanted to protect and characters I wanted to see suffer, who weren’t just vehicles for action.

I love you because you inevitably shit over any remaining argument that video games aren’t art.

I love that on the second play through everything is different, from the big things to the small: from the vigors you favour to the moment you linger longer on Battleship Bay, just to watch her dance… just to see her happy.

BioShock Infinite, I love you. And also fuck you because now everything else seems a bit shit in comparison…

… at least until Dishonored 2.

 

 

I am bemused every time a stranger asks me to recommend them something to read. And that might sound like a severely infrequent occurrence, and it probably is for most people, but anyone with an online following has probably been asked this question once or twice. Multiply that number for anyone who reviews books. And add a few more to it when you get your own published.

It’s normal, natural.

David Bowie compiled a list of his favourite books and I immediately saved the link for monthly reference. I want to know which books David Foster Wallace loved. I want to know what Richard Ayoade and David Mitchell read before bed. I want to know because these are people I admire, people who I think would make smart and interesting choices. People I respect.

Conversely, sometimes I see book recommendations from people I follow on Twitter and I add it to my ignore pile. We’re not the same. If they loved it, it probably isn’t for me. It’s kind of an asshole thing to say but there are too many good books and not enough good days, so any process to whittle the choice down, however arbitrary, feels excusable.

I get it, though. I get why people who watch my videos might be interested in my recommendations. Maybe they relate to me. Maybe they, for whatever misguided reason, find me interesting. Maybe they have simply enjoyed my past recommendations – I do have great taste. But, by the same token, I’d never ask Richard Ayoade or David Mitchell to recommend a book to me, personally, because they have no idea who I am.

If someone asks me to recommend them a book, and they’re just an online handle with a tiny photo, then I can’t. I can’t adequately recommend them a book. I know nothing about them. When we recommend books to friends or family, we tailor those recommendations to the individual. If I read a book and I adore it, I won’t then recommend it to everyone I know. I’ll recommend it to specific people. Those who will get the most out of it. Interesting historical fiction? That’s for Jim. A digestible, philosophical perspective on life? That’s Myles. A funny picture book? Where’s Arun at? I can’t recommend you a book if I do not know you, I can simply regurgitate my own selfish preferences. My own, biased proclivity towards bitter, existential rambling from metaphysically tortured white men. And no one needs a signal boost on that shit.

So, I can tell you what I love. I do tell you what I love. I have. There are book videos on my channel talking about my favourite reads. There’s no secret information I’m keeping back. No hidden gems. But I can’t tell you what to read if I don’t know you. I think reading is a personal experience; every novel means something different to each person who reads it. Maybe you’re twelve. Maybe your issues are huge. Maybe you’re struggling with an abusive home life. Maybe you’re not, maybe you just like ponies and pokemon. Maybe you’re fifty and you love knitting or curling and still go clubbing on the weekends, which is perfectly fine, but you feel kind of down about the stigma attached to it and the looks you get. Maybe you’re thirty, you’re a passionate stockbroker with a baby on the way. Maybe you’re all or none of these people. I can’t just throw Knut Hamsun’s Hunger at you and hope for the best.

I’ll repeat this in the body of the post, but this is not in defence of Tobuscus, it is just a discussion inspired by the reaction to his allegations.

Our social climate is perpetually changing, whether it’s the trudge towards racial equality,  LGBTQ+ rights, or the proliferation of the emoji, there’s a constant intangible evolution of the way we interact with and respond to one another. And this has never been more closely documented than within the last ten years, with the advent of social media.

The minutiae of the changes in political correctness can be traced in timelines. Personal timelines. Individual Twitter feeds trace the death of taboos. The birth of social justice. And the homogenisation of what we consider appropriate.

And this is a good thing. It’s a great thing that I don’t see hard F’s in friends timelines after 2012. But they were there before. They were definitely there before.

In light of the recent Tobuscus allegations, people have been highlighting multiple tweets he sent in 2008. For example:

And yeah, that’s abhorrent in 2016. But how was it eight years ago? How was it when all we had been exposed to was endless comedians throwing the topic around and only a sea of dodgy online forums to meet strangers in? It wasn’t great but, unfortunate as it may be, it was probably par for the course.

Here’s something absolutely fucking stupid I tweeted in 2011:

I didn’t really mean rape, did I? I meant rough sex with someone powerful I’m attracted to. But I’ve flippantly used the word rape, and none of the ~300 or so followers I had at the time batted an eyelid.

Yesterday I wrote a blog post called Have I Been Raped? which seriously discussed both my own experience with rape and the nature of witch hunts on social media. But I didn’t tweet it out. Why? Because I was worried there would be backlash for tweeting the word rape on a public forum, even in this legitimate context. I didn’t want to upset anyone. This is 2016. This is my 2016 perspective. The above tweet was 2011. The above tweet was my 2011 perspective.

Here’s another 2011 tweet from someone else who, in 2016, is considered a good guy and a vocal advocate of consent:

Because, guess what? Shit was different back then. Today, discussions around what is and what is not accepted can spread faster and garner more awareness than they ever have before. This is an exponential growth. Regardless of whether or not Toby is guilty, a terrible joke made by anyone in 2008 shouldn’t speak as a complex testament to their character in 2016, or maybe we’d all be assholes. I know I would.

Here’s another disgusting thing I tweeted, in 2010:

Body shaming. Would I tweet the above today? No fucking way. Did I receive any backlash for tweeing it in 2010? No fucking way.

Things change. 

One of these developments is endlessly encouraging and one is a shackle to the past.

Now this post isn’t in defence of anyone or anything other than context. And, of course, some people have tweeted abhorrent shit in the past: revolting, racist, homophobic, misogynistic shit, and it wasn’t a weak joke. They genuinely believed it. Some still tweet it today, but most have learned to keep it private.  Especially those with an audience and something to lose. But some of us were just your nice, normal jerks living in 2010.

Full disclosure, here’s some more of my shitty rap sheet:

This one isn’t particularly incriminating, it’s just not something I’d tweet now I’m followed by people who know me. And also gross.

Casually tweeting about drug use.

More body shaming and, again, also gross.

This isn’t really slut shaming because, well, I’m there and with all the rest of my tweets it’s clearly not, but I’m also making a joke at the expense of teens responsible enough to get themselves tested.

I don’t really like the person from those tweets. She seems like an utter cunt. But she’s me. And I know the context, personally and culturally, so I can dismiss it. I’m sure that’s infinitely harder to do from an outsider’s perspective, but if you’re reading this you probably know me quite well. You know I’m an advocate for equality, for self-confidence, for inner beauty, and self-expression, whatever form that is, and fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. But I still tweeted that shit. I didn’t like my housemate so I took easy swipes at him. For two years all I did was drink and ‘party’ because I was depressed and I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing with my life, so that’s all I had to talk about. And I did. Online. Where you joined me in the future.

These days, almost our entire lives are uploaded. Every thought. Every mistake. Every collective and personal mistake. And as the timeline gets longer the past will become more and more warped.

A tweet does not a villain make, and our pasts do not define us – cultural guilt and the weight of history hanging heavy – we’re all moving forward together.

 

Have I raped?

This discussion is brought to you from two people discussing the latest YouTube rape and abuse allegations surrounding Tobuscus, but in no way relates to those allegations.

Today I was talking to a good friend: the same good friend with whom I exhaustively deride and unpack every social taboo with irony, contempt, confusion and respect, in various, ever changing ratios; the same friend with whom I have a contract to never publish our private messages, no matter what happens, for fear the wrath of mistaken Tumblr anons will rain down upon us indefinitely; the same friend who lovingly told me ‘I hope you go to hell’ when I talked about suicide because he knows exactly what to say… and our conversation went like this:

Him: I’m not even confident I haven’t raped anyone any more.

Me: Neither am I.

And whilst we both said it with irony, there was a loud truth we couldn’t ignore and didn’t have an answer for.

Am I nervous to discuss an issue so sensitive and personal for people in broad strokes? No. Because I’m genuinely intrigued as to whether there are any answers/solutions to these disgustingly frequent stories of rape and manipulation, the way in which they examine various levels of abuse, and how to highlight the truth.

Until I became more educated on the topic of rape, I would have said I had never been raped. But over the last couple of years with the conversations happening by brave and educated men and women online, I’ve reconsidered my answer. I’ve reconsidered it privately, within my own experiences, within my own life, with my own comparisons.

Have I been raped? Based on the current, online, understood and accepted definition of the word, yes.

Have I been raped? Based on the basic understanding I had of the horrific physical ordeal of rape growing up, no.

I would never say that I had been raped. I would never tell someone with bruises and trauma that I had been raped. I would never tell someone crying, who felt their body was no longer theirs, that I had been raped.

Has my life been negatively impacted by a non-consensual sexual experience? Not that I know of. Maybe. Maybe for a few hours that day. Maybe for a week. But nothing worth mentioning.

I was with an ex-boyfriend. He had slept with another girl the night before. I was kind of upset, but mostly it was just a shrug and another layer of sadness about what had been happening.

So we’re chatting and he tries to kiss me. I say no. He keeps trying. I don’t kiss him back. He gets up, and I watch him as he goes over and turns a camera on, aiming it at the bed. He comes back and starts trying to kiss me whilst the camera films us. We had never filmed ourselves having sex when we were together, this wasn’t something we had ever talked about, this wasn’t something I ever wanted to do. I looked at the camera and looked at him, and asked him what the fuck he was doing, and then he got on top of me and tried to kiss me. I didn’t kiss him back. He got his dick out. I started crying. He pulled my shorts down. I was still crying. He started fucking me. I didn’t move. I didn’t respond. I didn’t kiss him or touch him. I just kept really still and wept whilst he filmed himself fucking me.

And I think that’s rape. I’ve realised now that it is rape. But it didn’t feel like rape rape. And it was just me, you know? It was just something that was happening to me, and he had always been so sweet and innocent, so it wasn’t rape. But it was.

It was rape, in the sense that I didn’t consent and said no and also clearly didn’t want to, but I would never say I’m a victim of rape. It made me feel weird for a bit. Unsure for a bit. Unable to process the situation for a bit. But he was my ex. But I had been attracted to him. But he was a nice guy. But I was fine. But I really was fine.

And the thing is, I’m sure he didn’t consider it rape either.

There should never be any blurred lines. If you are unsure as to whether or not the other person is consenting, ask.

But, as dangerous as it is to question, what about the people who think they have consent? What about friends fooling around? One time, years ago, I woke up and a friend had his hand in my pants, touching me. I guess he didn’t know I was asleep. When I noticed I left immediately. I really don’t think he had any idea that what he was doing wasn’t right. He was just trying it on; he’d never sexually abuse anyone. I felt violated, sure, but it was an innocent mistake.

So with everything that has been happening online in the last few years, I started thinking. I started thinking, shit, have I raped anybody? Did I rape somebody but neither of us knew? And I am pretty sure I haven’t. I can think of absolutely no instances in my past that could be construed as grey areas from the perspective of any sexual partner.

But my friend from the beginning of this post, he has a harder time and, despite the fact that absolutely anyone can be a victim of sexual abuse, part of that is inevitably because he has a dick. He’s never raped anyone. He can’t think of a time when there has been a grey area. But he also knows he’s done a lot of drugs, been to a lot of parties, fucked people who were similarly messed up. And he has no idea how they would tell the story.

We live in a very strange time of witch hunts, scorned exes, victim blaming, shaming, playing favourites, public ignorance, and interconnectedness. Anyone can have an audience. Anyone can manipulate that audience. Everyone can be different behind closed doors. People are built up online and they can be destroyed online. And it’s scary. It must be scary for anyone with an audience to know that an accusation can turn the tide against them. Just as it is terrifying for a victim to speak up against that tide, that so-often blinkered tide.

And the answer is simple, if they didn’t consent it is rape.

And that makes me feel safer in many, many important ways, yet for some reason it also makes me feel vulnerable. I’ve never explicitly asked someone if they want to have sex… well, 99.9% of the time I haven’t explicitly asked. And 99.9% of the time I haven’t been asked. It’s very much something that is assumed in the moment, or within a relationship, or suggested.

And what does that mean? What are the potential ramifications of this? Honestly. What does the discussion surrounding this look like? There’s no rational jury in the masses. Whether it be for or against the victim. Whether it be for or against the alleged victim. Whether it be for or against the innocent, whichever side they are.

This is one of the few areas where I genuinely don’t know what my own opinion is. I’m not even sure what the question is. It just feels like there’s an overwhelming ambiguity in the process, from inception to misguided public trial.

I believe rapists and abusers should be outed online if they have an audience. I believe if thousands of people can be warned of problematic behaviour from someone they admire and could be manipulated by, then they should be.

But then there’s the other side. There’s the public attacks, when there’s the already in place, albeit highly fallible, justice system. That’s where the real, legitimate difference can be made and an authoritative punishment given.

Ultimately, I think there are two separate necessities: warning and punishment. And I think these are too often intrinsically linked on social media.

Warnings can be taken into our own hands: tentative, cautious warnings.

Investigation and punishment should be left to the professional systems already established to do so.

… but we’re never going to tame the beast of delicious outrage.

 

 

 

I’ve been annoyed by YouTube lately, which annoys me in itself, because why should I really care about a platform predominately filled with creators making content for an audience younger than one I’d be genuinely interested in reaching? And I think the reason is twofold. 1) I am pissed off with myself that I make this shitty vanilla content because that’s the safe expected thing to do, and 2) because I see other people falling into the same trap.

The other day I became irrationally irritated by a Twitter conversation I wasn’t involved in. I saw TomSka tweeting with reference to a Tumblr post expressing disappointment with him for making a suicide joke in a video. I completely empathised with Tom’s point – to put a trigger warning on the video would ruin the comedic punches. He then sent a series of tweets trying to find a workaround for this problem in future videos, and some of the replies were infuriating.

And I’m wondering if it’s the platform. Or the audience.

Tom has built an audience of kids/teens because that’s the prime demo his content appeals to. If Tom had only ever made adult content, would he still be suffering backlash from that joke? Would he have grown a different audience? Would he have an audience who expect, enjoy, and respect comedians who don’t find anything off limits, other than the approach?

I am someone who believes comedy can and should be about anything, providing the joke is targeting the right element, e.g. don’t make a rape joke about the victim, and if you’re going to make a rape joke make sure the message is clever enough that it doesn’t come off as a cheap vehicle for laughs.

None of my favourite comedians work with trigger warnings, and what’s more I doubt their audience has ever even considered asking them to. Imagine Doug Stanhope opening a set with trigger warnings; it would take him fifteen minutes to reel off every taboo subject he covers in that hour alone.

So I’m wondering, should Tom just start making whatever content he wants and let the right audience find him? One that doesn’t stifle him or pressure him into making ‘safe’ comedy?

Whilst I don’t understand what it is like to be triggered, I’m not against trigger warnings. I completely understand that someone who has suffered trauma could be upset by an unexpected reminder or callous discussion. That said, I do think that people take trigger warnings too far, and the line is far too grey and subjective for me to even begin to make an argument for where it should be. It’s impossible for any one person to say, and no one person should get to decide.

However, if there are creators who don’t want to be held accountable to an audience who need to know the time stamps of the jump scares in a Five Nights at Freddy’s video, then they should simply start making content that those people won’t watch. They need to ask themselves what is more valuable: a large, broad audience, or an audience that enjoys the kind of content they find fulfilling to make? I am sure there are people who don’t watch (for example) Tom’s content because they find it too tame, but would probably love the stuff he would make if he didn’t feel any responsibility to the vocal minority of his current audience.

Don’t flirt with making it a safe space. If people know it is not safe they will stay away, giving you both freedom.

(That said maybe Tom would make exactly the same stuff in the same way, I am only using him as an example as of his prominent, recent Twitter discussion. I don’t know Tom. I am not speaking for Tom)

Recently, I was also frustrated by the #WeStandWithZoe shenanigans, for so many, many reasons. I saw many people using the hashtag as an excuse to tweet sexualised selfies. Obviously some people were casual and legit. But I saw a whole group of people, who usually tweet pictures of themselves every day, frothing at the excuse to tweet a panty pic. Zoe had a small portion of hip showing, but these narcissists were showing the whole thing, trying to look as sexy as possible, completely missing the point. Want to drive home that The Sun were being absurd with their remarks? Tweet ironically with too many clothes on, don’t turn it into something arguably sexual. Don’t turn it into something so sexual you then have to backtrack and ask that girls under the age of 18 don’t follow your example. I saw a bunch of SJW types eagerly tweeting pics, so wrapped up in this opportunity to finally reveal some body, that they ignored the fact they were encouraging their huge YOUNG teen followings into tweeting softcore underage porn. But where’s the uproar about this? About these poor-intentioned idiots actually causing a sleazy trend?

Not to mention all the fucking free advertising they gave The Sun… Jesus Christ. Congratulations on playing right into their hands, guys.

And this frustrates me because Tom is held accountable for making a joke personal enough to him that he feels ownership of it. That he feels he has the right to make.

I was talking to a friend as these two incidents were going on, both of us refraining from pointlessly throwing more public noise into the mix, about how we feel we can’t make jokes about our own depression, suicidal thoughts/attempts, or self harm, even though it is part of our lives, just because it will upset someone online and we don’t want to have to deal with that shit. We joke about it ALL THE TIME in real life. It’s part of who we are. But we’re censored online. We’re censored from making jokes about the shit we’ve experienced and continue to experience. Censored from being ourselves. Meanwhile, the same people who signal boost TRIGGER WARNINGS at every opportunity are encouraging an online tag for paedo bait.

Intent matters.

I am not doing what I wish Tom (and everyone in the same position) would do. I am not just making the content I want to make and seeing where the pieces fall. And I am a hypocrite for that.

I’ve been annoyed by YouTube lately, which annoys me in itself, because why should I really care about a platform predominately filled with creators making content for an audience younger than one I’d be genuinely interested in reaching? And I think the reason is twofold. 1) I am pissed off with myself that I make this shitty vanilla content because that’s the safe expected thing to do, and 2) because I see other people falling into the same trap.

The other day I became irrationally irritated by a Twitter conversation I wasn’t involved in. I saw TomSka tweeting with reference to a Tumblr post expressing disappointment with him for making a suicide joke in a video. I completely empathised with Tom’s point – to put a trigger warning on the video would ruin the comedic punches. He then sent a series of tweets trying to find a workaround for this problem in future videos, and some of the replies were infuriating.

And I’m wondering if it’s the platform. Or the audience.

Tom has built an audience of kids/teens because that’s the prime demo his content appeals to. If Tom had only ever made adult content, would he still be suffering backlash from that joke? Would he have grown a different audience? Would he have an audience who expect, enjoy, and respect comedians who don’t find anything off limits, other than the approach?

I am someone who believes comedy can and should be about anything, providing the joke is targeting the right element, e.g. don’t make a rape joke about the victim, and if you’re going to make a rape joke make sure the message is clever enough that it doesn’t come off as a cheap vehicle for laughs.

None of my favourite comedians work with trigger warnings, and what’s more I doubt their audience has ever even considered asking them to. Imagine Doug Stanhope opening a set with trigger warnings; it would take him fifteen minutes to reel off every taboo subject he covers in that hour alone.

So I’m wondering, should Tom just start making whatever content he wants and let the right audience find him? One that doesn’t stifle him or pressure him into making ‘safe’ comedy?

Whilst I don’t understand what it is like to be triggered, I’m not against trigger warnings. I completely understand that someone who has suffered trauma could be upset by an unexpected reminder or callous discussion. That said, I do think that people take trigger warnings too far, and the line is far too grey and subjective for me to even begin to make an argument for where it should be. It’s impossible for any one person to say, and no one person should get to decide.

However, if there are creators who don’t want to be held accountable to an audience who need to know the time stamps of the jump scares in a Five Nights at Freddy’s video, then they should simply start making content that those people won’t watch. They need to ask themselves what is more valuable: a large, broad audience, or an audience that enjoys the kind of content they find fulfilling to make? I am sure there are people who don’t watch (for example) Tom’s content because they find it too tame, but would probably love the stuff he would make if he didn’t feel any responsibility to the vocal minority of his current audience.

(That said maybe Tom would make exactly the same stuff in the same way, I am only using him as an example as of his prominent, recent Twitter discussion. I don’t know Tom. I am not speaking for Tom)

Recently, I was also frustrated by the #WeStandWithZoe shenanigans, for so many, many reasons. I saw many people using the hashtag as an excuse to tweet sexualised selfies. Obviously some people were casual and legit. But I saw a whole group of people, who usually tweet pictures of themselves every day, frothing at the excuse to tweet a panty pic. Zoe had a small portion of hip showing, but these narcissists were showing the whole thing, trying to look as sexy as possible, completely missing the point. Want to drive home that The Sun were being absurd with their remarks? Tweet ironically with too many clothes on, don’t turn it into something arguably sexual. Don’t turn it into something so sexual you then have to backtrack and ask that girls under the age of 18 don’t follow your example. I saw a bunch of SJW types eagerly tweeting pics, so wrapped up in this opportunity to finally reveal some body, that they ignored the fact they were encouraging their huge YOUNG teen followings into tweeting softcore underage porn. But where’s the uproar about this? About these poor-intentioned idiots actually causing a sleazy trend?

Not to mention all the fucking free advertising they gave The Sun… Jesus Christ. Congratulations on playing right into their hands, guys.

And this frustrates me because Tom is held accountable for making a joke personal enough to him that he feels ownership of it. That he feels he has the right to make.

I was talking to a friend as these two incidents were going on, both of us refraining from pointlessly throwing more public noise into the mix, about how we feel we can’t make jokes about our own depression, suicidal thoughts/attempts, or self harm, even though it is part of our lives, just because it will upset someone online and we don’t want to have to deal with that shit. We joke about it ALL THE TIME in real life. It’s part of who we are. But we’re censored online. We’re censored from making jokes about the shit we’ve experienced and continue to experience. Censored from being ourselves. Meanwhile, the same people who signal boost TRIGGER WARNINGS at every opportunity are encouraging an online tag for paedo bait.

Intent matters.

I am not doing what I wish Tom (and everyone in the same position) would do. I am not just making the content I want to make and seeing where the pieces fall. And I am a hypocrite for that.

I’ve been annoyed by YouTube lately, which annoys me in itself, because why should I really care about a platform predominately filled with creators making content for an audience younger than one I’d be genuinely interested in reaching? And I think the reason is twofold. 1) I am pissed off with myself that I make this shitty vanilla content because that’s the safe expected thing to do, and 2) because I see other people falling into the same trap.

The other day I became irrationally irritated by a Twitter conversation I wasn’t involved in. I saw TomSka tweeting with reference to a Tumblr post expressing disappointment with him for making a suicide joke in a video. I completely empathised with Tom’s point – to put a trigger warning on the video would ruin the comedic punches. He then sent a series of tweets trying to find a workaround for this problem in future videos, and some of the replies were infuriating.

And I’m wondering if it’s the platform. Or the audience.

Tom has built an audience of kids/teens because that’s the prime demo his content appeals to. If Tom had only ever made adult content, would he still be suffering backlash from that joke? Would he have grown a different audience? Would he have an audience who expect, enjoy, and respect comedians who don’t find anything off limits, other than the approach?

I am someone who believes comedy can and should be about anything, providing the joke is targeting the right element, e.g. don’t make a rape joke about the victim, and if you’re going to make a rape joke make sure the message is clever enough that it doesn’t come off as a cheap vehicle for laughs.

None of my favourite comedians work with trigger warnings, and what’s more I doubt their audience has ever even considered asking them to. Imagine Doug Stanhope opening a set with trigger warnings; it would take him fifteen minutes to reel off every taboo subject he covers in that hour alone.

So I’m wondering, should Tom just start making whatever content he wants and let the right audience find him? One that doesn’t stifle him or pressure him into making ‘safe’ comedy?

Whilst I don’t understand what it is like to be triggered, I’m not against trigger warnings. I completely understand that someone who has suffered trauma could be upset by an unexpected reminder or callous discussion. That said, I do think that people take trigger warnings too far, and the line is far too grey and subjective for me to even begin to make an argument for where it should be. It’s impossible for any one person to say, and no one person should get to decide.

However, if there are creators who don’t want to be held accountable to an audience who need to know the time stamps of the jump scares in a Five Nights at Freddy’s video, then they should simply start making content that those people won’t watch. They need to ask themselves what is more valuable: a large, broad audience, or an audience that enjoys the kind of content they find fulfilling to make? I am sure there are people who don’t watch (for example) Tom’s content because they find it too tame, but would probably love the stuff he would make if he didn’t feel any responsibility to the vocal minority of his current audience.

(That said maybe Tom would make exactly the same stuff in the same way, I am only using him as an example as of his prominent, recent Twitter discussion. I don’t know Tom. I am not speaking for Tom)

Recently, I was also frustrated by the #WeStandWithZoe shenanigans, for so many, many reasons. I saw many people using the hashtag as an excuse to tweet sexualised selfies. Obviously some people were casual and legit. But I saw a whole group of people, who usually tweet pictures of themselves every day, frothing at the excuse to tweet a panty pic. Zoe had a small portion of hip showing, but these narcissists were showing the whole thing, trying to look as sexy as possible, completely missing the point. Want to drive home that The Sun were being absurd with their remarks? Tweet ironically with too many clothes on, don’t turn it into something arguably sexual. Don’t turn it into something so sexual you then have to backtrack and ask that girls under the age of 18 don’t follow your example. I saw a bunch of SJW types eagerly tweeting pics, so wrapped up in this opportunity to finally reveal some body, that they ignored the fact they were encouraging their huge YOUNG teen followings into tweeting softcore underage porn. But where’s the uproar about this? About these poor-intentioned idiots actually causing a sleazy trend?

Not to mention all the fucking free advertising they gave The Sun… Jesus Christ. Congratulations on playing right into their hands, guys.

And this frustrates me because Tom is held accountable for making a joke personal enough to him that he feels ownership of it. That he feels he has the right to make.

I was talking to a friend as these two incidents were going on, both of us refraining from pointlessly throwing more public noise into the mix, about how we feel we can’t make jokes about our own depression, suicidal thoughts/attempts, or self harm, even though it is part of our lives, just because it will upset someone online and we don’t want to have to deal with that shit. We joke about it ALL THE TIME in real life. It’s part of who we are. But we’re censored online. We’re censored from making jokes about the shit we’ve experienced and continue to experience. Censored from being ourselves. Meanwhile, the same people who signal boost TRIGGER WARNINGS at every opportunity are encouraging an online tag for paedo bait.

I am not doing what I wish Tom (and everyone in the same position) would do. I am not just making the content I want to make and seeing where the pieces fall. And I am a hypocrite for that.

So, Adult Swim is a mixed bag of treats. Some are amazing and some rot the fuck out of your teeth, but it brought us Rick and Morty so, as far as most of the internet is concerned, it has a free pass to shit down our throats from here on out because JOB DONE, FOREVER.

Today I watched Alan Resnick’s This House Has People In It after the disgracefully addictive online irritant, Max Landis, tweeted his admiration for it. This House Has People In It hasn’t gone the way of Unedited Footage of a Bear just yet, and it probably doesn’t quite have that viral capacity, but it’s great.

It’s so good that I just sat through over 90 minutes of Night Mind arguably unravelling the ambiguity of its narrative, glitches and Easter eggs. That said, I’ll watch Night Mind unravel a lot of things because I like unravelling, and I also admire a thorough touch which presents the sense of a vigilant, behind the scenes admin process. Dude’s definitely got some thriving Evernote boards.

But what This House Has People In It really drove home for me wasn’t in its clever, innovative, quirky comedy-horror, instead it highlighted what YouTube could be if its creators looked outwards instead of inwards. Obviously, Adult Swim is a cable network with a YouTube channel, but that’s entirely beside the point. I think a lot of the short films and more “creatively” positioned videos on YouTube are simply narcissistic, public masturbation. WRITTEN BY, DIRECTED BY, AND STARRING ME AND MY FRIENDS AS CHARACTERS A LOT LIKE US, ALSO LOOK AT THE KOOKY COLOUR GRADING, LOOK, LOOK, THE COLOUR IS THERE AS A SUBSTITUTE FOR TALENT AND SUBSTANCE. But this, this is a movie that anyone could have made on a few webcams with some friends. Anyone talented. Anyone talented who took some time away from attempting to hide their shallow, philosophically bankrupt husks behind some faux-deep, Tumblr-edge, cheap, artistically troubled, YA persona. Or really just anyone who tried to have an idea that didn’t seep with self-centred grease.

Now I’m not talking about the gurus, or the run of the mill vloggers, or comedians, or the gamers, I’m talking about the people who need to reference film somehow in their Twitter bios. Filmmaker. Director. Screenwriter. Etc etc etc. I’m sick of seeing “creative” videos by “filmmakers” that are simply attempting to concoct an interesting character for themselves. I want to see real people – real, impressive, people – creating something other than a fake persona. Other than some weird fucking romanticised versions of themselves. Edits should be about crafting a film not crafting a personality. I don’t want to watch a six-minute selfie. Have a fucking idea. Have an idea and impress people that way. Do you know who I immediately found incredibly interesting today? Do you know who I immediately wanted to invest time in and watch the work of? Fucking Alan Resnick. Not someone who painstakingly edited pensive shots of themselves together with regurgitated, trite, laboured over sound-bites.

 

So, Adult Swim is a mixed bag of treats. Some are amazing and some rot the fuck out of your teeth, but it brought us Rick and Morty so, as far as most of the internet is concerned, it has a free pass to shit down our throats from here on out because JOB DONE, FOREVER.

Today I watched Alan Resnick’s This House Has People In It after the disgracefully addictive online irritant, Max Landis, tweeted his admiration for it. This House Has People In It hasn’t gone the way of Unedited Footage of a Bear just yet, and it probably doesn’t quite have that viral capacity, but it’s great.

It’s so good that I just sat through over 90 minutes of Night Mind arguably unravelling the ambiguity of its narrative, glitches and Easter eggs. That said, I’ll watch Night Mind unravel a lot of things because I like unravelling, and I also admire a thorough touch which presents the sense of a vigilant, behind the scenes admin process. Dude’s definitely got some thriving Evernote boards.

But what This House Has People In It really drove home for me wasn’t in its clever, innovative, quirky comedy-horror, instead it highlighted what YouTube could be if its creators looked outwards instead of inwards. Obviously, Adult Swim is a cable network with a YouTube channel, but that’s entirely beside the point. I think a lot of the short films and more “creatively” positioned videos on YouTube are simply narcissistic, public masturbation. WRITTEN BY, DIRECTED BY, AND STARRING ME AND MY FRIENDS AS CHARACTERS A LOT LIKE US, ALSO LOOK AT THE KOOKY COLOUR GRADING, LOOK, LOOK, THE COLOUR IS THERE AS A SUBSTITUTE FOR TALENT AND SUBSTANCE. But this, this is a movie that anyone could have made on a few webcams with some friends. Anyone talented. Anyone talented who took some time away from attempting to hide their shallow, philosophically bankrupt husks behind some faux-deep, Tumblr-edge, cheap, artistically troubled, YA persona. Or really just anyone who tried to have an idea that didn’t seep with self-centred grease.

Now I’m not talking about the gurus, or the run of the mill vloggers, or comedians, or the gamers, I’m talking about the people who need to reference film somehow in their Twitter bios. Filmmaker. Director. Screenwriter. Etc etc etc. I’m sick of seeing “creative” videos by “filmmakers” that are simply attempting to concoct an interesting character for themselves. I want to see real people – real, impressive, people – creating something other than a fake persona. Other than some weird fucking romanticised versions of themselves. Edits should be about crafting a film not crafting a personality. I don’t want to watch a six-minute selfie. Have a fucking idea. Have an idea and impress people that way. Do you know who I immediately found incredibly interesting today? Do you know who I immediately wanted to invest time in and watch the work of? Fucking Alan Resnick. Not someone who painstakingly edited pensive shots of themselves together with regurgitated, trite, laboured over sound-bites.

 

I have a predilection for single location movies for the same reason we believe we can hear better with our eyes closed. Whilst I enjoy the creativity necessary to combat the relative restrictions on narrative, I am more interested in how the parameters of single location movies often engender the necessity to rely on other areas, such as dialogue. I love all aspects of film, and I would say that my top fifty movies are perhaps more alike in tone than genre or execution but, for me, a well written picture is almost always going to supersede a triumph of cinematography or performance. And, just like closing your eyes to hear better, single location movies typically have to rely more heavily on dialogue, imaginative conceit, or characterisation.

Of course, there are also many terrible single location movies because they’re cheap and easy to make, which means budding filmmakers can dream up a simple variation on the ‘people locked in a room’ plot and knock it out in a few weeks: see Netflix’s Circle (2015) for the Nth example of this. But that’s just a blight on the device we’re all going to need to accept.

Sleuth (1972)

Michael Caine and Laurence Olivier star in Sleuth, based on the Anthony Shaffer play of the same name. And that should be enough to sell this movie to anyone but, for posterity, it’s about a theatre enthusiast who invites his wife’s lover over for the evening to enter into a potentially deadly battle of wits. Bonus: the film was remade in 2007 with Caine playing the role of Olivier (don’t watch the new one first).

Dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz

Coherence (2013)

Unlike Sleuth, the factual low-down on Coherence might actually put you off: Nicholas Brendon and some barely-knowns have a dinner party and something odd starts happening. However, Coherence has layers of intrigue. Without giving too much away, this isn’t a straight up get together: unusual events start to unfold and the cast have to decipher what’s happening, literally. The actors were only given details of specific points they had to include in each scene, leaving them to ad-lib the rest, uncovering the mystery with the audience. This could have resulted in something unusable but instead Coherence is an example of ‘people in a room working something out’ gone right.

Dir. James Ward Byrkit

Moon  (2009)

Moon, the internet’s favourite movie, is an incredibly engaging story of Sam Rockwell’s life on the Moon. This film was never really underground, it even features the voice talents of Kevin Spacey, but it became championed online as this brilliant movie you may have missed to the point of parody. I’ve seen it, you’ve seen it, Sam Rockwell is superb, let’s move on.

Dir. Duncan Jones

Clue (1985)

Clue, infamous murder mystery Clue, is a ‘people in a room working something out’ movie, sure. But it’s the camp, 1985, Tim Curry, Christopher Lloyd, epitome of ‘people in a room working something out’ movie. Plot: a group of strangers are invited to a mansion, given names relating to Cluedo characters, and a killer is among them. Who is it?!

The Sunset Limited (2011)

This HBO movie, based on a Cormac McCarthy play, stars Tommy Lee Jones and Samuel L. Jackson as two strangers discussing suicide from the perspectives of a man with faith and a man without. On the surface we see the division between race, class, education, and beliefs, but ultimately it is simply a discussion of life between two men. This could have been cliché and redundant, but a simple glance at the names attached should assuage your doubts.

Dir: Tommy Lee Jones

Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

Dog Day Afternoon (mildly incompetent nice guy holds up a bank) is arguably one of the best movies ever made. Pacino is at his most likeable, there’s comedy, there’s tension, there’s camaraderie, there’s love, there’s Attica! it’s just a beautiful melting pot of something for everyone whilst avoiding the disgusting tepid nature of compromise.

Dir. Sidney Lumet

The Man From Earth (2007)

The Man From Earth presents one of the more interesting in-depth conversations in film: a man tells his friends, a group of professors from various areas of study, that he is immortal and has been around since the dawn of man. At first this is interpreted as a hypothetical and his task is to convince them, but as the evening unfolds the question as to whether or not he is telling the truth causes tensions to grow. This movie doesn’t fall down any of the potential traps for pretension that it sets up, and whilst I find myself sometimes wondering what it could have been in the hands of Kaufman or Linklater, Bixby’s simple approach navigates the topic elegantly and accessibly.

Dir. Richard Schenkman

12 Angry Men (1957)

12 Angry Men is another movie from this list which could just as easily be in a top ten of all time, and both are thanks to the incredible talents of Sidney Lumet. ‘Courtroom drama’ might not be the most enticing descriptive coupling, but this timeless reflection on the nature of innocence and the burden of proof provides hefty insight into the hypocrisy of men. This film is as important as it is compelling.

Dir. Sidney Lumet

Cube (1997)

I saw Cube for the first time about fifteen years ago and it has stuck with me ever since. As a young teen, I obviously hadn’t been exposed to the amount of movies I have been today, and the premise was something surprising I hadn’t seen before. But even today, Cube maintains its position as one of the more accomplished and gripping single location mystery thrillers I’ve seen, and it’s certainly superior to the more recent ilk, such as Fermat’s Room. Synopsis: a group of strangers wake up in a complex system of cube-shaped rooms, some of which are booby-trapped. Together, they possess a set of skills necessary to escape, but will they work it out or turn on each other?

Dir. Vincenzo Natali

Carnage (2011)

Two sets of parents meet with the intention of maturely discussing an altercation their kids had at school, but throughout the course of the evening their behaviour gradually deteriorates into antagonistic and petty childishness. An incredible script and strong performances from an all-star cast (Kate Winslet, Jodie Foster, Christoph Waltz, and John C. Reilly) make Carnage a funny, astute observation of human behaviour.

Dir. Roman Polanski

The Breakfast Club (1985)

The Breakfast Club is infamous, spawning parodies and homages in a plethora of TV shows, movies, and comedies. It is the pinnacle of eighties teen films: the perfect recipe of Simple Minds, the Brat Pack, and John Hughes, this movie lives at the nostalgic heart of a generation. Today, endless teen movies take us through the tired, clichéd cafeteria breakdown of social stereotypes, but in 1985 The Breakfast Club gave us The Jock, The Princess, The Brain, The Basket Case and The Criminal in Saturday detention, and it was god-damn perfect.

Dir. John Hughes

My Dinner With Andre (1981)

It’s inconceivable that you haven’t already seen this movie, so I’ll keep it short: two men have dinner. Andre Gregory talks of the twists and turns of his past, regaling Wallace Shawn with wild stories, whilst Wallace questions Andre’s fulfilment and the logistics of his lifestyle.

Dir. Louis Malle

Feel free to send any single location movie recommendations to me @opheliadagger