Introducing Trooper!

February 10th, 2010 .

So I finally did it – I got an iPhone!  So far it’s going pretty well.  I’m still totally in amazement that I have the Internet in front of me at all times.

Of course, the first thing to do when you have a new piece of technology is to name it. At first, I wasn’t sure what to call it.  Typically, my mobile or auxiliary devices have been named after spacecraft and other astronomical items – my flash drives are Mercury and Titan and my external hard drive is Orion.  On the other hand, my computers have typically been named after rocks or stones – my IBM ThinkPad is Monolith, and my MacBook is Neolith.  So I could’ve gone with Microlith or Nanolith for the new phone, but it just didn’t feel right.

In the end, I went with something unorthodox – Trooper!  Here’s why:

1)I intend to put it through its paces – “trooper” being slang for something that works tirelessly without complaining.  (It better!)

2)It is made of white plastic and represents an organization which insists on imposing its own standards of everything, with no possibility of rebellion:

3)It has a hard green shell which is removable:

4)Finally, this has absolutely nothing to do with the device itself, but it need be mentioned:

So there you have it!

2010 – Living in the Future

January 17th, 2010 .

A friend of mine pointed me towards a book called “2010 – Living in the Future” by Geoffrey Hoyle.  This book was written in 1972, with bold predictions for what the future would be like in about 40 years.  The book is recorded (probably totally violating copyright) on a blog at http://2010book.tumblr.com/.  I’m a huge fan of retrofuturism, and this book was a freaking goldmine in that regard.  And now that it actually is the year 2010, how does the book’s vision compare with the future we actually live in?

The book cover does not disappoint. That font means it's the FUTURE!

First, it’s always fun to see what predictions came true (even partially) and which ones just failed.  To be sure, there are plenty of the latter.  In Mr. Hoyle’s 2010, personal car traffic has largely been eliminated, and the few vehicles on the road are electric-powered buses, provided free of charge.  I need only to drive out to our office in the suburbs, more than an hour-long drive on clogged I-90, to prove how wrong that is.  Likewise with the idea that technology would bring us all a three-day work week, affording more time for life development – I work in technology, and I’ve had six-day work weeks!  But yet there are slivers of truth in it; Hoyle’s concept of “vision phones” to speak face-to-face with your friends, coworkers and classmates who are miles away is relatively commonplace today.  Also, I can certainly get just about anything I want delivered to me without leaving my house, from music to books to groceries, even if it is delivered through a slightly different series of tubes!

I don't think this is what Ted Stevens had in mind...

I also find it very interesting from a historical perspective – how did people see technology in 1972?  Most of Hoyle’s ideas are timesavers, things to enable you to get through your day without a single action, effort or decision that is at all unnecessary.    Yet there are no technologies to enhance your life, to entertain, to intrigue, or to make you think.  To me, this perfectly reflects the path that human-computer interaction has taken.  HCI was formed from engineering and psychology, but recently has added influences from art and design to the mix.  Don’t forget the “H” in HCI – yes, timesavers are certainly extremely helpful, but remember that humans have other needs as well!  I can also see reflections of the current fears and worries that plagued humanity in Hoyle’s inventions.  The first problem he saw was overcrowding, which he solved with enormously tall and cramped buildings (yet still with enough room for ridiculously massive fully centralized utilities for everything, including a 500,000-seat stadium – five times the size of Michigan Stadium!).  Then there were the worries over fossil fuels, pollution and the environment, hence all the electric cars in Hoyle’s future.  (And of course, in our version of 2010, almost forty years after this book, we’ve got the environment completely fixed and we’re totally off those nasty fossil fuels, right?  Right?)

It's Michigan Stadium...IN THE FUTURE!

Overall though, I appreciate this kind of retrofuturism as a sort of brake pedal to the V12 of technological advance.  As great as it is to have a far-flung vision of how awesome the future is going to be fifty, twenty, or even ten years from now, it’s essential to keep in mind that it may very well never happen.  Having the vision is one thing; understanding how the new technology will really affect people’s everyday lives is another, and being able to bring it about is yet another.  For instance, throughout the work, Geoffrey Hoyle posits immeasurably complex machines and computers as a way to enable everyone around the world to live an easier life.  But who is going to design, build, maintain and improve all those machines?  Who is going to drive the delivery trucks to send groceries around the world three hundred sixty-five days a year?  Who is going to collect the raw fruits, vegetables and meats and put them into the machines to begin with?  No matter what your vision is, you have to consider what will really come of it.

I guess the bottom line is – people in 2050 are going to laugh just as hard at our predictions of 2050 as we currently are laughing at 1970s predictions of 2010.

And this is supposed to get me up on time HOW?

December 3rd, 2009 .

I’m writing today about one of the more amusing electronic gadgets in my possession, namely my alarm clock.  I have an Emerson AC100 dual alarm clock (which seems to be not produced any more, judging in my difficulty in finding information about it online).  By and large, I’ve done right by it.  I really like the red LED display, which is sufficiently bright to see the time when I’m looking at it, but not so bright that it’s distracting when I’m actually trying to sleep.  The automatic time setting feature is a great convenience (although it screws up daylight savings). It’s relatively easy to change the alarm settings how I want it.

But that’s not what I’m writing to talk about today.  What I’m writing about today is the button configuration and how that affects your sleeping habits.  Here’s a guide stolen from the reference manual (’cause I’m too lazy to take a photo):

Emerson AC100 radio

Emerson AC100 radio

Notice the snooze button (number 10) and the buttons to actually turn the alarm off (numbers 16 and 17, depending on which alarm is ringing).  Pretty big size differential between them, no?  Just out of curiosity, I actually measured them.  The alarm buttons are circles with about a 1/4-inch diameter, giving them a total surface area of 1/8 * 1/8 * pi, or roughly .05 square inches.  The snooze button measures 4 inches wide by 1/2 inch tall.  If it were a rectangle, it would measure 2 square inches, but it’s smaller than that because of the curvature.  Let’s say it’s 1.5 inches.  So, that means that the snooze button is 1.5 / .05 = 30 times the size of the alarm button!  Furthermore, the snooze button has a distinctive shape and location, whereas the alarm buttons are shaped and positioned in exactly the same fashion as buttons which do things that are completely unrelated, such as adjusting the clock time and time zone.

So, the bottom line is – when the alarm goes off, which of these buttons do you think is getting pushed?  Especially in the dark, groggy first moments of your morning?  It’s like they made this alarm clock for people who don’t want to get up at all, and just want to hit the snooze button every few minutes.

I suppose making the snooze button easy to find is good because really, it would suck if you just wanted those few more minutes and you were half awake by the time you hit the button.  But making the button which will actually let me get started with my day hard to find?  No wonder people hate mornings.

My new wallpaper

November 17th, 2009 .

Here’s my new wallpaper at work – something I’ve been working on in OmniGraffle.

Every time you make a PowerPoint, Edward Tufte kills a kitten

Every time you make a PowerPoint, Edward Tufte kills a kitten

JayIsGames game competition review

November 13th, 2009 .

Casual gaming site Jay Is Games recently completed its sixth game development competition, around the theme of “Explore”.  I thought there were some really good entries this year, and here are my thoughts:

  • Small Worlds won both the judging and the audience award, and with good reason.  Although not much of a “game” in the traditional sense, it is absolutely astounding how much atmosphere Small Worlds packs into just fifteen minutes of heavily pixellated graphics.  The titular worlds are so vibrant and well-realized, and the inclusion of a beautifully-implemented zooming effect truly fills you with a sense of wonder and even horror as you explore.
  • Full Moon came in second place.  It’s a good, solid, stylish puzzle effort from Bart Bonte, who just seems to crank out great puzzles woven together in a common theme.  Outside of a few puzzles which were frustrating (dragging is a pain in the butt even if you have a mouse, and nigh impossible if you’re on a laptop), I enjoyed it a lot.  It’s just tricky enough to stretch your brain without breaking it.
  • How My Grandfather Won the War has production values that are simply off the charts and a great concept that is fantastically realized.  But I found the gameplay way too frustrating to be fun.  The collision detection is dodgy, the weapon recharges too slowly, and restarting the level every three lives was not fun.  Sorry, I didn’t think this deserved to be third.
  • The Fantasy of the Sord [sic] was my sentimental favorite.  It takes everything you hate about old console games (endearingly low-quality graphics and sound, tricky jumps, random enemies, bad grammar, nonsensical story), sautes it in a thick marinade of irony, and serves it up in a big, unmapped world of fun.  You select a character (white knight, rock man, wood sexer, etc.), choose your trusty sord from an overtly ridiculous list of weapons (including a tree branch, a shovel and a boxing glove), and set off to…um, slay some enemies.  And get even more sords.  Or something.
  • The Fabulous Explorationsland is a cute Zelda-ish game of finding secrets in ruins.  Its cheesy sense of humor really endeared itself to me, even though it wasn’t very difficult and kind of short too.
  • Hell Tour was really interesting.  It’s a wayfinding game with some really neat strategy and RPG elements to it.  However, it’s a bit too random and the ending, while a neat concept, basically undid all the work I did during the game.  That said, this was my third favorite game.
  • Following Footsteps is interesting in that it was designed in DHTML, not Flash (which I, of course, have a special interest in), but the gameplay seemed kind of poor from the little time I played it.  I didn’t particularly care for it.

So that’ll do it for the games that I played – now to wait for the next competition!

Indie Game Review: Eufloria

November 2nd, 2009 .

Eufloria, formerly known as Dyson, is a real-time strategy game that has been around as a demo for a while and recently came out as a full-fledged release.  I really enjoyed it as a demo, so I just had to pick it up.

What catches me about Eufloria is its unique theme.  Instead of rehashing one of the three common RTS themes (medieval / fantasy war, modern / realistic war, or future / space war), Eufloria shows off its own.  You are in command of a race of seedlings, which are insect-like self-replicating machines.  You colonize asteroids by sacrificing seedlings to build Dyson trees that automatically mine the resources in the asteroid and produce more seedlings.  Each asteroid has a unique combination of resources that determines the seedlings’ power, speed and health.  You have to fight off other races, as well as mysterious grey seedlings, for control of the sector.  It sounds closest to the space war genre, but the floral spin on the presentation and abstract visuals make Eufloria stand out.

Unfortunately, Eufloria’s gameplay is lacking.  It shares the “slippery slope” problem endemic to so many RTS’s.  If you’re doing well, it becomes easier and easier to win until victory is just a foregone conclusion.  On the other hand, if you are doing poorly, it is basically impossible to come back.  The strategy in Eufloria typically boils down to getting enough asteroids under your command to build decent-sized army, then just throwing increasingly ridiculous numbers of seedlings at your enemies until you’ve finally conquered them all.  What tends to happen is that you spend the first one quarter to one third of the game building up your empire, waiting painfully slowly to accumulate the ten seedlings to build each new Dyson tree.  Then you manage to conquer one or two other empires, marking the most challenging part of the game.  Once that’s done, you usually have a large enough empire to win the game just by force of numbers.  It can be incredibly satisfying to attack your enemy’s last outpost from three different angles with 200 seedlings each, but it doesn’t feel challenging.  The gameplay is not helped by the fact that other empires ordinarily do not attack you until quite a bit of time has gone by.  Instead, they will happily sit and watch, even if your empire is adjacent and is defended by only three seedlings which could easily be crushed by their 40 seedlings.  If they do get to a point where they attack you, chances are you’ve already done so poorly that you’re going to lose the game anyway.  It’s kind of a shame because there are a few really good gameplay hooks (Do you specialize in power, health, or speed?  Do you build a tree now, or do you hold onto those 10 seedlings to defend?) that never seem to be explored.

I’m also a bit disappointed by Eufloria’s game modes.  At the start, you only have access to the main campaign / story mode, which isn’t so much a story as a series of gimmicky scenarios arranged in roughly increasing order of difficulty.  If you get far enough in the story, you can unlock eight skirmish levels where you battle multiple enemy races.  I unfortunately cannot be any more specific than “far enough”, as I have yet to unlock a single skirmish level even after completing almost half of the levels in story mode.  Furthermore, there is no multiplayer mode, which is something that RTS’s in general just cry out for.  I do agree, however, that Eufloria’s rules as they are now would not lead to a great multiplayer experience.

On the other hand, I think Eufloria functions very well as an experience, rather than a game of strategic decision-making.  The abstract visuals and ambient soundtrack make for an atmosphere of beauty and calm – quite an accomplishment for a war game without diplomacy or compromise.  As minimalist as the graphics are, they convey a huge amount of information about the location and size of armies the condition of each asteroid.  Even the seedlings themselves are informative – fast seedlings have large wings, strong seedlings have large bodies, and powerful seedlings have long stingers, enabling you to size up an enemy’s army at a glance.  The interface is a perfect example of minimalism, too.  Everything is done with the mouse – a drag and drop sends your seedlings to another asteroid, and you can select subsets of your seedlings with a double-click, a right click, or a drag and click.  The mouse wheel zooms in and out in a smooth motion, and it’s very satisfying to go from seeing the entire campaign all at once to taking in all the action on a single asteroid.  I may have said a lot of negative stuff about Eufloria’s gameplay, but I don’t want to ignore the fact that it really does connect with me on a different level from most other RTS’s.

To sum up, I do have mixed feelings about Eufloria.  I’ve seen a suggestion that the loose gameplay and beautifully realized atmosphere makes it more of a toy than a game – something to run in the background and play with sporadically while you do your bank balance – and I am inclined to agree.  If you are expecting a deeply strategic game where the fate of your campaign constantly hinges on carefully considered decisions, do not get Eufloria.  But if you’re looking for an enjoyable experience with some RTS elements thrown in, Eufloria is certainly worth a try.

Usability and handedness

September 29th, 2009 .

Recently, I read an article in the WSJ about people complaining that the Dvorak keyboard layout is not supported on most smartphones, whether they use physical keyboards like the Blackberry, or virtual keyboards like the iPhone.  There was one quote in particular that caught my eye – “The way he sees it, Dvorak users are like left-handed people and deserve the same kind of respect.”  That got me thinking about my experiences as a left-hander and how that makes my interactions with various products just a little bit different.

Being left-handed is more or less finding out that many different products just doesn’t quite work for you as intended.  In fact, in many cases products have been designed so that you are caused the most inconvenience possible.  I don’t begrudge people who tailor products to cater to right-handers – after all, it’s better to inconvenience just 10% of the population than to inconvenience 90% of the population – but at the same time it’s kind of frustrating.

Most of the time, the difficulty caused by being left-handed is just something silly. I remember the day I noticed that to put change into a vending machine, I basically had to stand all the way off to the right side of the machine in order to get my left hand into the proper location.  On the other hand, my right hand would’ve fit perfectly from just about anywhere.  Then there’s the teasing in art class because I could never use scissors correctly, and the way that I constantly smear hand-written notes when my hand brushes the paper.  But sometimes, the difficulty is much more than that.  The most powerful example is a chainsaw, which usually features a guard to protect the operator’s right hand.  The lack of a corresponding protection for the left side puts left-handers at a much greater risk of injury or death.  Overall, it’s a reminder to me to consider how different people might have different needs, and that sometimes, there is just no one magic solution that will please everyone.

The funny part of this whole thing?  My left-handedness means that I actually find QWERTY more useful than Dvorak in a way.  If my hands get tired, I sometimes switch to typing with just one hand, and naturally, it’s much easier with my left hand.  What I’ve noticed is that most of the important letters are clustered on the left side on QWERTY – to the extent that the New York Times once published a crossword puzzle where all the answers could be formed from letters on the left side of a QWERTY keyboard.  This would be impossible with the right hand.  On the other hand, the important consonants on Dvorak are clustered on the right side.  So maybe Dvorak users aren’t like left-handers after all…

How not to do usability: Blue Cross / Blue Shield

September 24th, 2009 .

There are times when posting about a really bad user experience is simply an effort to amuse myself and my friends in usability, and so we can perform the all-important task of acting snotty and superior for a little while.  Then there are times when posting about a really bad user experience is to draw attention to something which truly has a terrible and awful effect on the human condition.  What I’m about to post is an example of the latter.

So I was calling up Blue Cross / Blue Shield to get pre-authorization for something, when in the middle of the phone tree, there was an option for “If this is a life-threatening emergency, press 1 now.”  This is all well and good – an insurance company’s goal is to keep you in good health no matter what the situation, even if it’s only so you can continue to pay your bills – expect for the fact that by the time I reached that option, I had already done the following:

  • Listened to several options on the phone that totally did not apply to me, including “Press pound if you are a provider or a non-member”, and “If you’re calling for some other program, the number has changed to this other phone number” – all spoken in a voice that was a tad on the slow side
  • Entered my birth date in month month, day day, year year year year format, with those instructions spoken out in detail, followed by the pound sign
  • Entered my eight-digit insurance identification number, which is on my insurance card that I had to dig out of my wallet, followed by the pound sign

All told, I reached this option after about two minutes on the phone.  I have to say that it felt rather long even calmly sitting in my office – can you imagine if it had really been a life-threatening emergency?  And having to wait for that long even after looking up the phone number for the insurance company and dialing it?

I also wonder what would happen if someone actually DID get to that option and select it My hope is that they would immediately be taken to an emergency operator, but I almost wouldn’t be surprised if it just sent you deeper into the phone tree.  Repeat after me: “If you have been shot, press 1.  If you are being digested by a bear, press 2.  If you are on a boat that is sinking, press 3.”

In short, a good general rule of thumb (and this applies for lots of things, not just UX!) is that if your behavior resembles a Monty Python sketchyou’re doing it wrong!

Nutsy Bolts: RELEASE!

September 19th, 2009 .

For those of you who haven’t heard, Nutsy Bolts is LIVE!  (See my previous post explaining it.)  It’s an online multiplayer game that you can play right through your browser, without needing to use Flash or Java or anything!  Just go to the website and play!

Nutsy Bolts has been a long time coming for me – I started it even before I went to graduate school, and considering I’ve completely graduated since then, that should tell you something about how long I’ve been working on it.  I have a lot planned for it, but at the same time it’s great to get it out – both so other people can see it, and so I can work on something else for once (more details on that to come)!

Usability: Not Just for Computers

August 30th, 2009 .

Recently, I bought a bookcase for my new apartment, and had to put it together from scratch.  One of those exercises that always ends in frustration and confusion, right?  Actually, although the physical aspect of putting it together was still there full-force, I was pleasantly surprised by the ease of the instructions – in fact, I was so pleased that I consciously overlooked the typo “easyer”, an act of defiance that ordinarily would have my inner grammar Nazi kicking down the doors of the perpetrator.  I felt I would write up a short bit about what I thought was good about it.

The first thing that I noticed about the bookcase was the way the pieces are labeled.  Instead of generically referring to the pieces as “Part A”, “Part B”, “Part C”, etc., in either an arbitrary order or the rough order in which they are assembled, and always using the same name to refer to the same type of piece, the piece names were chosen so that they directly referenced the order in which you used them.  The entire sequence to construct the bookcase is seven steps, and as such, the piece names began with a number from 1 to 7, based on which step to use them in.  They were then given a letter indicating when in the step they should be used; so the first piece in step 1 is 1A, the second in step 1 is 1B, etc.  What struck me about this is that it was sometimes at odds with the function of the piece – the left side panel is named 1A, and the right side panel is 3B, despite the fact that they are mirror images of each other.  In a “conventional” naming scheme, you know they probably would have been A and B, giving you no inherent clue when you actually use them.  Similarly, the three back panels are 2A, 4A and 4B.  I have to admit that this confused me slightly at first, but once I understood the naming sequence I found it very helpful.

The other thing that this bookcase did really well was handle the small parts – screws and bolts and such.  Most of the fasteners were bolts for an Allen wrench, and there were a lot of them.  However, instead of dumping all the fasteners into one giant pile and having you keep track of them yourself, the bookcase came with five “hardware packs” which each contained the fasteners for a single step.  This means that when you get to step 1, you don’t have to concern yourself with finding a home for twelve extra fasteners you don’t need until later; they’re kept safely in the remaining hardware packs for when you get to the next steps.  There was a bit of a mismatch in that there were only five packs, numbered 1 through 5, and the numbers did not align with the step numbers you actually needed them for.  At the same time though, I can see an argument that if you did align the hardware pack numbers with the step numbers, there would be some confusion about jumping from hardware pack 1 to hardware pack 3, and that people would wonder what happened to hardware pack 2.  So that’s probably OK.

The exercise also makes me wonder what more could be done to improve the experience of putting together furniture.  Sadly, it’s unlikely that instructions will ever be completely unnecessary, which means trying to decipher broken English, technical jargon and poorly detailed graphics is probably an inevitable component of the process.  But can the actual design of the furniture pieces help people understand how to put their furniture together?  How about color-coded joints similar to what Dell used to do with computers – the plug is colored the same as the hole it’s supposed to go into?  How about numbers or symbols on each piece to show what the next step is?  How about a miniature deconstructable model of the final product?  How about using undoable fasteners instead of screws and nails whenever possible, so if you start to put it together wrong you’re not left with a worthless misshapen heap of wood?

In closing, I can understand why most instructions don’t follow the conventions that this bookcase uses.  It’s easier for furniture builders to make furniture this way.  It’s easier to slap the same name and label on the same part every time.  It’s easier to pack and ship a set of fasteners into one bag instead of into five.  It’s easier to keep track of inventory when your part names follow a regular pattern.  But what is best for your business internally may not be best for your consumers – the people who actually have to put it together.  And they’re the people who ultimately pay your bills.  If you make them happy, they will like you, and want to buy more of your products, especially when they’re as high-quality as this bookcase.  (They will also write blog posts gushing about how awesome you are.)  So kudos, World Market, for making your customers happy.