Hop onto most any online multiplayer forum or other chat site, and you will find horror story after horror story of foul mouthed, homophobic, misogynistic, racist rage quitters. Bad behavior has become almost synonymous with gaming online. Thankfully, many game developers are looking at ways to combat such behavior. While many companies have systems that punish bad behavior, some are looking in the opposite direction, of rewarding positive behavior.

League of Legends developer, Riot Games, has taken this latter approach. In a new system for fostering positive behavior, such as team work and friendliness, Riot has hired a group of experts to implement an honor system in its game.

Here's the background: Six months ago, Riot established Team Player Behavior — affectionately called Team PB&J — a group of experts in psychology, neuroscience, and statistics (already, I am impressed). At the helm is Jeffrey Lin, better known as Dr. Lyte, Riot's lead designer of social systems. As quoted in a recent article at Polygon:

We want to show other companies and other games that it is possible to tackle player behavior, and with certain systems and game design tools, we can shape players to be more positive.

Which brings us to the Honor system. Honor is a way for players to reward each other for good behavior. This is divvied up into four categories: Friendly, Helpful, Teamwork, and Honorable Opponent. At the end of a match, players can hand out points to those they deem worthy. These points are reflected on players' profiles, but do not result in any in-game bonuses or rewards (though this may change in the future). All Honor does is show that you played nicely.

So how is this honor system working out for League of Legend players? After all, this is what it is all about. Improving the lives of gamers. Well, The Mary Sue provides a few LoL players who were willing to share their stories. For instance, there is this player's experience.

When Honor went live, there was an immediate difference in tone. I had allchat [cross-team chat] disabled in the game because I was tired of hearing incredibly sexist, racist, and homophobic comments being tossed both ways, and if I was playing with randoms, I would often mute them as well. After Honor went up, EVERYONE became nicer – I went from seeing problematic behaviour in almost every game to seeing it something like twice over the span of 20 games (and even then, it got shut down pretty quickly). I've turned allchat back on, and I love the dynamic both in game and after game. People compliment each other's play-style, and on top of giving people on the other team credit for being honorable opponents, you can also give your own team points for being friendly, helpful, and being team-oriented. It's nice to be able to give the good ones credit for what they do, and it's also nice to be able to see such a drastic shift in mentality, even if it is sort of constructed.

While this change in some players' experiences is great, not every negative player will change. There are some people who are fully entrenched in being jerks online. There is no curing such people. Of course, this was expected. For one of the experts, Dr. Lyte, this is not about changing negative players to positive players but about helping neutral players shift toward the positive end of the spectrum.

"The average player in the game is not toxic or positive, they're neutral," Lin says. Because the Honor system allows players to praise other players for their actions "we're able to nudge them a little toward the positive."

I am glad to see that more developers are looking at this as a way of improving player experiences in game. Other developers, such as Blizzard, are more focused on punishing and banning unsavory behavior. What that seems to do mostly is cause people to complain loudly when they are banned. Often these players will make claims that they were banned unfairly or for no reason. Whether true or not, these accusations can then make others a little more wary of taking up the game in the future.

Now, the idea of rewarding positive behavior is far from a new concept. We not so long ago highlighted an experimental program from Valve that attempted something similar. We have highlighted numerous other stories of creators who took the time to encourage positive behavior in their potential customers (you know, by convincing them to buy).

More importantly, this kind of reward system could have a far more important impact on LoL. It could be a great way to keep gamers in the game. It is this large number of players on at all hours that adds value to the game for the individual players. Because of its multiplayer nature, people would not want to play if few people were on and those that were are jerks. So by ensuring that more positive players stay on for longer, the experience will be greatly improved. This positive atmosphere and high value could also have the added benefit of convincing more players to buy in.

The urban legend about poisoned candy on Halloween has pushed parents away from handing out home-made treats -- even though the realistic odds of finding dangerous treats is vanishingly small. Still, there are some crazy people out there, so maybe it's better safe than sorry. Just know that getting hit by a car while crossing the street is a far more frequent occurrence on Halloween....

• Joel Best has been investigating Halloween Sadism reports since 1985, and while he can't prove a negative (ie. that no kids have ever been sadistically poisoned by Halloween candy), the evidence for any widespread Halloween threat to children is pretty thin. The last update for this study was done in 2010, and 1982 was a particularly bad year for poisoned candy scares. But since the mid-80s, there haven't been more than 2 reported incidents per Halloween -- and so far, follow-up investigations have only found evidence of hoaxes. [url]
• Timothy O'Bryan was actually killed by a cyanide-laced pixie stick in 1974. However, the murderer was the boy's own father who had taken out a $60,000 life insurance policy for his son and was later convicted and executed for killing him. [url]
• Last year, there was at least one report of a razor found in a Reese's peanut butter cup by a father in New Mexico. Chocolate and peanut butter are two great tastes that taste great together, but razors are not part of that recipe. [url]

If you'd like to read more awesome and interesting stuff, check out this unrelated (but not entirely random!) Techdirt post.

A few weeks ago, we noted that the FTC was offering up $50,000 to anyone who could help stop "Rachel from cardholder services" robocalls. It appears they don't really need that much help, as the agency has filed complaints against five such operations based in Arizona and Florida (why is it that so many scammy operations seem to be based in Florida and Arizona?). FTC boss Jon Leibowitz overstates his organization's infatuation with robocalls:

“At the FTC, Rachel from Cardholder Services is public enemy number one,” said FTC Chairman Jon Leibowitz. “We’re cracking down on illegal robocalls by bringing law enforcement actions and pursuing technical solutions to the problem.”

Of course, I think that it's important not to get confused about what the real problem is here. While robocalls are both annoying and illegal, the real problem isn't the calling, but the scams behind the calls. They're basically trying to get people to fork over money for services that are never actually delivered.

In the robocall cases announced today, the FTC alleges that the defendants place automated calls to consumers, typically with a prerecorded message from “Rachel” or someone else from “Cardholder Services.” The calls purport to have an “important message” regarding an opportunity to reduce high credit card interest rates. Consumers are urged to “press 1” to connect with a live representative, or “press 2” to discontinue getting such calls. Consumers who press 1 are connected to live telemarketers. Most consumers have no way to screen the calls using Caller ID, as the incoming number allegedly is often “spoofed,” or displayed as a false number. In many cases, the name displayed on the Caller ID is so generic, such as “Card Services,” that it provides little information about who is calling.

According to the FTC, consumers who reach a live telemarketer are then pitched allegedly deceptive offers to have their credit card interest rates substantially reduced, sometimes to as low as 6.9 or even zero percent. The telemarketers allegedly guarantee that lowering card interest rates will save the consumers thousands of dollars in finance charges in a short period of time and will allow them to pay off the balances more quickly. Some telemarketers allegedly claim that consumers will save at least $2,500 in finance charges and will be able to pay off their balances two to three times faster, without increasing their monthly payments.

In some cases, according to the FTC, the telemarketers claim to be calling from the consumer’s credit card company. In other cases, they use “Cardholder Services” to suggest a relationship with a bank or credit card company. If the consumer expresses an interest in the rate reduction offer, the telemarketer sometimes conducts a purported “audit” to determine whether the consumer qualifies. Consumers provide their financial and personal information, and are then put on hold while the “audit” is completed. According to the FTC, the “audit” typically is used only to determine whether consumers have enough credit available on their credit cards to pay the company’s fee.

The charges filed against the operations include both charges for making false claims and also for violating telemarketing laws, but it seems that the false claims/fraud stuff is the much bigger deal. Instead, however, the FTC seems to focus the publicity aspect on its "fight against robocalls." I realize that may generate publicity, but isn't the fraud aspect the bigger deal?

Wired is running a series of opinion pieces concerning ways to "fix" problems with the patent system today (we've made our own suggestions in the past if anyone's interested). It started with a suggestion from Mark Lemley that was similar to his other recent statements about fixing the problems of software patents by actually applying existing law to stop functional claiming (i.e., claiming around general concepts rather than specific implementations).

The second post in the series comes from Richard Stallman, who notes that it seems quite unlikely that the US will carve out software patents, noting (correctly) that this might not solve the problem anyway, since patent lawyers would just change how they write patent applications to get around any such carve-out. Instead, he suggests a different solution: limiting how widely software patents can impact new technology:

My suggestion is to change the effect of patents. We should legislate that developing, distributing, or running a program on generally used computing hardware does not constitute patent infringement. This approach has several advantages:

• It doesn’t require classifying patents or patent applications as “software” or “not software.”
• It provides developers and users with protection from both existing and potential future computational idea patents.
• Patent lawyers can’t defeat the intended effect by writing applications differently.

It's an interesting suggestion, but I'm not so sure it would go over that well. People would certainly question why general purpose computing gets a pass. Also, the "generally used computing hardware" standard could be kind of hard to define as well. It still seems like there are more elegant solutions that focus on the real root of the problem, rather than trying to "carve out" certain impacts that we don't like.

Defense Department boss Leon Panetta has been recycling his cyber Pearl Harbor ghost stories for a few years now to push for expansive cybersecurity legislation (i.e. budget and power to spy on people), but Pearl Harbor is a bit outdated these days. So why not shoot for a more contemporary reference? Why not something in the "now"? Well, Homeland Security boss Janet Napolitano (who's in a bit of a turf war with Panetta over who gets control -- again, budget and power to spy on people -- of "cybersecurity") has decided to go with the most contemporary possible reference: Hurricane Sandy. Apparently, to Napolitano, the answer to the question of "how soon is it appropriate to cynically abuse the story of Hurricane Sandy for political gain?" is "right away."

Napolitano, who, you may remember, doesn't know how the internet works, went to a cybersecurity event on Wednesday to warn that without cybersecurity legislation, an attack might be just as bad as Hurricane Sandy. Quoting a report from Hillicon Valley:

After Hurricane Sandy wreaked havoc on the East Coast, Napolitano said people should look than no further than the damage caused by the massive storm to understand the need to boost the nation's cybersecurity protections.

"One of the possible areas of attack, of course, is attacks on our nation's control systems — the control systems the operate our utilities, our water plants, our pipelines, our financial institutions," Napolitano said. "If you think that a critical systems attack that takes down a utility even for a few hours is not serious, just look at what is happening now that Mother Nature has taken out those utilities."

"The urgency and the immediacy of the cyber problem; the cyberattacks that we are undergoing and continuing to undergo can not be overestimated," she said.

I'd say that it's not so much the utility downtime that's been the problem with Hurricane Sandy compared to, say, the wind and the copious amounts of water falling from the sky and piling up on the ground. Last I checked, that can't be controlled via a computer (leaving wacky conspiracy theories aside).

As per usual, when it comes to cybersecurity threats, Napolitano (like pretty much every single other politician pushing for legislation) refused to get into specifics about how real any threat is -- other than to make scary "be afraid, be very afraid!" noises. The one time she was asked about a specific threat, she immediately went vague, but in full-on FUD mode:

When asked by Post editor Mary Jordan about whether hackers are stealing information or money from banks, Napolitano answered "yes" and then quickly added, "I really don't want to go into that per se."

"All I want to say is that there are active matters going on with financial institutions," she said.

Is it really so crazy to think that if the government is going to pass a bill that has broad implications for our privacy, they should at least come up with a legitimate and clear explanation for why it's needed? Instead they toss out scare stories about hackers stealing money, planes falling from skies and utilities shutting down -- without any proof that any of it is actually likely or possible.

Yesterday we had a post about Shashank Tripathi, the "internet jackass" who, posting under the name @comfortablysmug on Twitter, shared some bogus reports during Hurricane Sandy, such as claiming that the NY Stock Exchange floor was flooded and that the local power company was preemptively turning off power. The story has generated a fair bit of interest, and follow up discussions that are pretty interesting. I wanted to tackle three particular threads that have come out of the discussion.

• Greg Ferenstein at TechCrunch argues that I'm wrong in saying that public shame is as far as punishment should go for Tripathi. Instead, he argues that such speech should be illegal, because while other comments can moderate speech in normal times, at exceptional moments there somehow isn't time to understand that Tripathi wasn't being truthful:

  The case against public shaming is that, during a crisis, Twitter isn’t a magical marketplace of ideas, where citizens are given sufficient time to weigh competing claims and come to a reasonable conclusion. Adrenalin is pumping, there’s not enough time for credible sources to sniff out the truth, and people get hurt.

  To which I can only respond: who got hurt because of his tweets? The answer is no one. No one was busting out of their safe apartment to rush dangerously down to the NYSE to see the (non-)flooded floor. Yet, because of populist anger, it appears that at least one NY politician is pushing to press charges. I think this is bogus, and any smart prosecutor will note that the chances of success are slim at best.
  
  
• Moving on, Mathew Ingram at GigaOm raises a different question: whether it was even appropriate to out Tripathi. He fears that the backlash against Tripathi could go overboard and "community action against an anonymous troll" could all too easily turn into "a lynch mob." In some ways, this is the opposite argument of Ferensteins. Both are basically asking: "but what if this leads to harm?" They may be valid questions to ponder -- and we've certainly worried about the possibility of "lynch mobs" doing damage based on bad information. But I'm not convinced that should ever lead to the legal silencing of speech.
  
  Not surprisingly, there are a lot of emotionally driven opinions on all this -- in fact GigaOm had such a vociferous internal debate among writers/editors at the site that they published the internal discussion publicly.
  
  
• However, I think the most important and insightful piece on this entire story comes from Heidi Moore at the Guardian who put the whole story in perspective by making a few key points that were missed by almost everyone arguing about the story.
  1. If you looked at Tripathi's other tweets, it became really obvious really quickly that he was posting crap/jokes -- mostly for the semi-amusement of his few thousand followers. For example he fake retweeted a bogus tweet from Goldman Sachs saying: "In a city underwater, the vampire squid is king" and similarly fake retweeted Barack Obama's account saying that NYC residents should eat their dogs if they run out of food. These aren't particularly funny, but it sort of puts in context the kinds of tweets he was posting, such that you could see how his followers would mostly know that he was just tweeting stupid stuff not to be taken seriously.
  2. Given that, the real problem here was not with Tripathi acting like a jackass clown, but with professional journalists and organizations -- including the National Weather Service and CNN -- who retweeted his other bogus tweets, lending them a veneer of truthfulness where none existed.
  3. Moore also points out that this is nothing like a "fire in a theater" situation because there is no harm. Hell, as she points out, there is no "theater" where the fire is supposedly being claimed here:

     For one thing, where was the theater? People in New York were largely trapped at home. Were they really going to run screaming into the streets, unable to handle the idea of the New York Stock Exchange being flooded? Were emergency responders going to stop answering calls to ferry over to the Stock Exchange to prevent water damage to the floors? Would people turn off their generators, hoping to save power for the day when stocks could be traded again? No, no and no.
     
     As one fund manager at a $6bn hedge fund concisely put it on Twitter: "Is it really the end of the world if the floor floods? This is just getting stupid."

  4. She notes that if anyone should be called out here, it should be the journalists who repeated the tweets without any sort of confirmation. To those who say that it was in the heat of the moment, even that is questionable. Sure, there was as rush for journalists to be the first to retweet some news, but that's an issue for the journalists to deal with. Most people were just hunkered down dealing with the storm, not rushing off to deal with any of this. And if those journalists had done even the slightest research, they would have realized the tweets were bogus -- either by looking at his full feed, or even looking at how others had responded to his tweets. Moore makes a strong case:

     Here's the thing: while what Tripathi did was stupid, inappropriate, ill-timed and loathsome, the reaction to it was entirely out of scale to the actual offense. The truth is, Tripathi had a relatively small niche on Twitter. His influence would have been limited had not journalists on Twitter been desperate for information to share, regardless of provenance.

     He was not the person who affixed those headlines atop legitimate news sources: journalists, who should have checked their sources and did not, used their power of the press to popularize the claim and bring it into people's homes. The decision to publish Tripathi's information was made by journalists, even when his persona and the nature of the information called for skepticism.

     In fact, the first responses to his tweet on the NYSE, from non-journalists, were as follows: "That's bullshit"; "What are the sources for your links?"; "confirmed by whom?" and "you are a liar."

I think the three stories above show a variety of different responses, with Moore's being the most compelling by far (and that's not to criticize either Ingram or Ferenstein -- both of whom I know and consider to be friends). However, it does show how complex some of these issues really are. It's really easy to see something like this as black and white, mainly by looking at things from a single perspective, without the context. Guy tweets bogus information in the middle of a crisis? String him up! Except... when put in context, perhaps what he did was silly and childish, but was it the real problem? Probably not. That doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with outing him through old fashioned journalistic sleuthing (it's a different story if it had been via subpoena... though that's a whole different post).

But in the end, I stick with the principles that more speech tends to be a good thing -- and free speech should be encouraged, even if that speech is Tripathi's tweets in poor taste. Remember, free speech doesn't mean that you're free from the consequences of that speech, and Tripathi is dealing with the consequences. Similarly, outing him through old fashioned journalism is also free speech. Finally, all of the ongoing discussion is more free speech. In none of this did anyone get hurt, and (hopefully) no one should need to get charged under the law. Things seem to work just fine without resorting to the judicial system.

Defamation is only supposed to apply to cases where there's a factually false statement made about someone. It shouldn't apply to cases where the facts are accurate, or the statements are opinions. But while the US's defamation laws generally deal pretty well with this, it's not as clear elsewhere. The UK, unfortunately, is somewhat famous for its bad defamation laws, where the burden is generally on the accused to prove they didn't defame someone -- which can be an expensive process. Over the past week or so, video gaming journalists and industry watchers have been dealing with a bit of controversy. Eurogamer columnist Rab Florence wrote a column questioning the close relationship between some gaming journalists and the companies they cover, where it sometimes seems like the journalists are pitch people, rather than objective journalists. This is not a new concern, especially in video game journalism, where such accusations tend to show up pretty regularly (sometimes more accurately than others).

While a lot of the controversy is over those accusations, that's not the really controversial thing that happened. That's because part of Florence's article quoted some tweets from Lauren Wainwright, who worked for another publication, and then pointed out that the tweets at least raised concerns in his mind. Here's what he wrote:

One games journalist, Lauren Wainwright, tweeted: “Urm… Trion were giving away PS3s to journalists at the GMAs. Not sure why that’s a bad thing?”

Now, a few tweets earlier, she also tweeted this: “Lara header, two TR pix in the gallery and a very subtle TR background. #obsessed @tombraider pic.twitter.com/VOWDSavZ”

And instantly I am suspicious. I am suspicious of this journalist’s apparent love for Tomb Raider. I am asking myself whether she’s in the pocket of the Tomb Raider PR team. I’m sure she isn’t, but the doubt is there. After all, she sees nothing wrong with journalists promoting a game to win a PS3, right?

Another journalist, one of the winners of the PS3 competition, tweeted this at disgusted RPS writer John Walker: “It was a hashtag, not an advert. Get off the pedestal.” Now, this was Dave Cook, a guy I’ve met before. A good guy, as far as I could tell. But I don’t believe for one second that Dave doesn’t understand that in this time of social media madness a hashtag is just as powerful as an advert. Either he’s on the defensive or he doesn’t get what being a journalist is actually about.

Now, I actually have gone an extra paragraph past the stuff just about Wainwright, in part because the four paragraphs above no longer appear in the article. Why? Well, according to Eurogamer, it edited out those paragraphs after legal threats from Wainwright.

The first is that a lot of people want to know more about why I made the changes and issued an apology. The answer is that Lauren Wainwright threatened us with legal action and made it clear she would not back down, at which point we took legal advice and ultimately made the decision to remove the paragraphs. It was not a decision that I took lightly. One objection to this action that I've read online is that there was no libel. All I can really say is that the advice we received meant that removing the offending text and apologising to Lauren was the right course of action to take. We also considered the fact that the article wasn't really about her but about all of us, and I felt that the edited version did not change Rab's meaning.

Of course, as we all know, all this has really done is call a hell of a lot more attention to what she said and did, including further accusations coming out later about some of her actions, as well as many more people reading the paragraphs she threatened over.

It's entirely possible that Eurogamer removed the content because of the cost that would be involved in fighting off a lawsuit, but it is a big issue to see a journalist threaten another publication over quoting her and expressing an opinion. Wainwright could have merely responded to the questions directly -- but going so far as to threaten litigation is ridiculous and deserves to be called out. In fact, as Erik Kain at Forbes points out in the link above, it's not just ridiculous, it's hypocritical, since Wainwright herself has a history of quoting others' tweets and then adding commentary.

What it highlights is that she apparently didn't like Florence's opinion, which is clearly stated as his opinion. He worries about even the appearance of possible bias, which is a reasonable position to take. But rather than leading to an interesting discussion about bias and journalism, it instead went into this ridiculous detour about defamation law and censorship over criticism.

Last week we noted that Apple had put up a rather petulant non-apology apology in response to the UK court order requiring it to advertise to the world that Samsung didn't copy Apple in making its devices. Many people wondered how the court would react to Apple's attempt... and the answer is that the court is not pleased (and is further displeased by Apple's claim that it needs two weeks to come up with something better):

At a hearing in the court in London on Thursday morning, the judge told Apple that it had to change the wording of the statement within 48 hours, carry it on its home page, and use at least 11-point font.

Apple tried to argue that it would take at least 14 days to put a corrective statement on the site – a claim that one judge said he "cannot believe".

The full quote from the judge was, apparently:

“I would like to see the head of Apple make an affidavit setting out the technical difficulties which means Apple can’t put this on. I just can’t believe the instructions you’ve been given. This is Apple. They cannot put something on their website?”

Another report shows that the judge reviewing this made his views of Apple's notice abundantly clear:

“I’m at a loss that a company such as Apple would do this,” Judge Robin Jacob said today. “That is a plain breach of the order.”

Apparently, the London appeals courts have some sort of antidote to the standard Apple reality distortion field.

We've written about John Mellencamp's anti-internet rants before, but this latest one doesn't just take the cake, it takes the whole bakery and turns it into a reality show on the Learning Channel, but with more melodrama and an even looser definition of learning. There's almost too much to unpack here, but let's start with the headline—a particularly audacious version of the "copying is theft" fallacy:

Good News! Ten Commandments Reduced Now to Only Nine

Really now, John? Internet behavior doesn't have any more authority over the ten commandments than vice versa. If it did, we'd already have knocked at least a few more over, since websites stay open on Sunday and graven image machines are a hit on Kickstarter. But let's just sail right on past that, as well as the part where he confirms that he does indeed love music, and meet the bee in his bonnet:

I've been doing this a long time and I'm confounded by the apathy of those who have participated in music-related successes and are now witnessing the demise of the entertainment business as it has existed since the beginning of recorded sound and moving pictures. So here I plan to ask some questions and my hope is offer a solution to the problem.

So, he's confounded by the apathy of the entertainment business in the face of piracy. If only they'd air commercials before movies or something. But, he promises a solution—and we'll save that for later, because I don't want to give away the punchline. He continues:

Tell me where, under today's conditions of de facto indentured servitude, will the new artists come from? If I were a young songwriter today, I would definitely be looking for another way to earn a living. The same would go for the young screenwriter or novelist.

Quiz time, John: What does indentured servitude mean? Time's up, because you already used the term in the most ironically wrong way possible. Indentured servitude means working for no wages in order to pay off a debt to your employer for an initial outlay of cash that allowed you to commence the work. Sound familiar? Because to me it sounds like a traditional record label contract, not something new or anything related to piracy or the internet. And, in case you didn't notice, there are countless new artists everywhere. The internet has enabled more artists to share what they create with the world—and to earn money with it—than ever before in history.

But that's not all Mellencamp is worried about:

And what about the guy who only had one or two hit records 10 or 50 years ago? What happens to this guy who depends on that income to support his family if people are stealing those songs now? Tough luck, right?

Well basically, yeah—tough luck. Were we supposed to shed a tear because a musician can't live comfortably forever on the back of "one or two hit records 10 or 50 years ago," and might have to actually produce some new material or else find some other way to earn his living? Copyright is supposed to encourage creativity, not act as welfare for artists.

So what does he have to say about all the artists who have figured out amazing new ways to make lots of money? If you guessed "it's a fluke, plus something at least mildly original and not totally debunked," then you're half-right.

And to all you bloggers who have prophesized that this new way is going to somehow provide sustainable careers? Your prophecies did not and will never come true. If there is the occasional sparkle of success, it usually turns out to be nothing more than a novelty, not a new business model.

So we can add Mellencamp to the list of people who have, apparently, been waiting for someone to tell them what the magic-bullet business model is, while smarter artists are out figuring out what works best for them and their fan bases. Our mystical blogger prophecies that artists can find new ways to make money will never come true, except for all those times that they have, which were flukes. Duh. Of course, these days there are an awful lot of flukes. Like this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one and this one. And that's just a few that I remembered and could easily look up, rather than any sort of representative sample. But they're all flukes.

Why is thievery allowed to continue on the Internet? And why do people think it's so impossible to correct? Right after radio was invented, they played music and sold advertising. Then it dawned on some: "Hey, they're playing our music, and they're selling advertising on our backs; we should get paid." So performing rights organizations like ASCAP and BMI were established with the express intention of protecting the intellectual property of artists who create it.

...

But where are ASCAP and BMI today on the new delivery system -- the Internet? Where are the record companies? Where are the book publishers? Where are the unions to which we pay dues that are supposed to protect actors, writers, songwriters, and producers? And, most importantly, where's the government? Apparently everybody's too busy making excuses and shrugging their shoulders to realize their gravy train has gone up the waterspout.

To provide an answer to John's list of questions: fucking everywhere. All of those organizations are heavily active online, collecting money for creators from a roster of legal services that grows longer every day. And, really, if we're talking about "thievery" on the internet, perhaps we should look at some of those collection societies who seem to be taking money from artists and not giving it back.

And the entertainment industry is most certainly not "shrugging their shoulders" and failing to notice whatever the hell their gravy train is supposedly doing. They love their gravy train, and are fighting tooth and nail to protect it. But, like "indentured servitude", John doesn't seem to know what "gravy train" means, and yet he has accidentally used it in an accurate way. A gravy train is a way of making lots of money with little to no effort (like say living off the profits of decades-old songs) and it's exactly the kind of thing you don't want in a functioning economy. A gravy train is something society resents, and something we try to take away from those who have it. John's right about one thing: the entertainment industry has been riding one for a long time.

If you can believe it, all that was just a preamble to his main point, the promised solution to all the woes of artists and the entertainment business. Turns out it's extremely simple, as facile solutions to complex issues often are: repeal the safe harbor provisions of the DMCA.

[The DMCA] was supposed to bring U.S. copyright law into the digital age but it included something called "Safe Harbor Provisions" that basically says that each artist is responsible for retrieving his own merchandise and shutting down anyone stealing their property, which is kind of a joke.

...

This law now, unintentionally, allows big search engines -- like Google, Yahoo, Bing, etc. -- to be the equivalent of a department store as both provide and sell many services and products. Let's say that Ralph Lauren has his merchandise in Macy's. If someone shop lifts it out of the store, he's told, "Hey Ralph, your stuff's being stolen off of our shelves. You better go try to collect your money for it. It's not our problem or responsibility since all we do is make your stuff available to non-paying customers..." In other words, under the Safe Harbor Provisions, search engines behave like unpoliced department stores where anyone can steal whatever they want with no real threat of significant repercussions.

I could write a whole post about those few sentences, but let's try to run through some of the glaring problems here. Firstly, the vast majority of copyright infringement is a civil issue, not a criminal one—so it has always been the copyright holder's responsibility to bring action against infringers. The DMCA's safe harbors are about liability—they say that you must go after the person who actually infringed on your copyright, not the provider of the tool they used. In other words, you have to hold the correct person responsible. Such protection is the backbone of the internet as we know it—without it, not only would websites be unable to allow user participation, even ISPs would be unable to provide open internet access and protect customer privacy.

But Mellencamp's primary concern is, apparently, search engines. We've heard this one plenty of times before, but perhaps never so ineptly described as it is here. The analogy to a department store is stupid in so many directions that it's like some kind of memetic virus, and I'm getting a headache trying to write a response. For one thing, retailers buy their stock up front and then re-sell it. If it gets stolen, it's their loss, not Ralph Lauren's. Secondly, Google doesn't have "stock" that people can "steal," it's a damn search engine, and the DMCA's safe harbors don't turn it into an "unpoliced department store." In Mellencamp's shoplifting analogy, the DMCA would be the law that says you can't sue the manufacturer of the shoplifter's car, or the company that made his backpack, or any of the other entities that provided tools he used while breaking the law—and that's what he finds unacceptable.

To put it plainly, radio kept track of their playlists, record stores kept track of their sales, each movie theater counted tickets, each bookstore kept track of books sold, and why? Because the law required it and the manufacturers demanded it. And so the same should apply to search engines. They should be governed in the same manner but they're not. The Safe Harbor Provisions allow intellectual property to be stolen because the search engines are not held accountable.

Search engines do not provide content. It's pretty hard to violate copyright while staying on Google—you have to click through to the site that is actually providing the infringing material. The only reason to attempt to pin blame on search engines is that it's convenient for copyright holders (or because someone doesn't understand how the internet works), not because it makes any sense for them to bear liability. And it's not at all clear what Mellencamp is asking search engines to count... the number of people who click on links to sites that contain infringing content? How is Google, or anyone other than the copyright holder, supposed to tell? There's no magic "detect infringement" algorithm—even real live humans struggle with the nuances of the law.

If anti-piracy legislation were the order of the day servers, wherever they may be including the mythical "cloud," could and would be shut down thanks to technologies that have been developed and successfully employed during the fight against terrorism. The means to get this done actually exists; what we're lacking, at the moment, is the will to do it.

Wait, what? Did John Mellencamp just call for drone strikes on the Pirate Bay, or does he think copyright filter technology was an important part of the war on terror? Either way, he needs to learn that taking down sites has proven to be futile, since replacements always pop up in no time. But then we get back to the hilarious premise that is peppered throughout the article: the notion that the entertainment industry is not trying hard enough. It sounds like he slept through the SOPA and PIPA fight, when anti-piracy legislation was very much the "order of the day", and that order was overruled by the people.

For the final paragraph of Mellencamp's rant, let's get granular:

The entertainment business has been criminally assaulted by wrong-headed thinking that says we need to keep up with the Internet.

If by "criminally assaulted" he means it feels like they need to be beaten over the head with it, then I agree. As for keeping up with the internet, maybe he's right—in a previous rant he called the internet "the most dangerous thing invented since the atomic bomb," and look what happened when everyone was worried about keeping up with that. Plus, as War Games taught us, there can only be bad news when the two coincide.

No, search engines need to abide and adhere to the laws that have governed this country for over 200 years.

And what about laws that have governed the country for 16 years? It's odd for John to be so fixated on respecting the law, since his entire premise is that we should stop respecting the DMCA's safe harbors. But maybe he's only interested in laws that have been around for two centuries—so I guess we should return a copyright term of 14 years, applicable only to maps, charts and books. That I can get behind.

It's a moral imperative. Thou shalt not steal. Ring a bell?

Yes, it's the same non-applicable tenet you brought up in the headline. If someone was stealing something, you'd have a point. Since they're not, you don't.

Calling it progress, ol' Hoss, don't make it right.

And calling it wrong doesn't make it disappear.

The Internet gets blamed for so much. This loose collective of millions of users and websites is blamed for everything from killing off major industries to turning the world's children into short attention span txt fiends. The Internet will kill art via piracy, we are assured repeatedly. A new generation of children will be raised by the wan glow of LCD monitors and nurtured by thousands of ethereal Facebook friends.

Now the Internet is being charged with filicide. In a post titled "How the Internet Killed Carly Rae Jepsen," Katherine St. Asaph applies her detective skills in order to solve the mystery of why Jepsen's new album has been met with large quantities of indifference. First, she chronicles the swift rise of "Call Me Maybe," the inescapable phenomenon that entertained us briefly between Rebecca Black's "Friday" and Psy's "Gangnam Style."

Tastemakers heard it, then moguls who were de facto tastemakers, and it spread to listeners who knew nothing about the singer except this beautiful thing she'd written. They fell in love at first listen. They gushed. They sang along. They recorded karaoke videos and public swoon mobs and re-enactments of its summer-love video. They sent it to No. 1 for seemingly the entire summer and sent its singer to what looked an awful lot like dazed stardom.

Doesn't all of that sound absolutely horrible? Apparently St. Asaph would prefer Jepsen wallowed in obscurity so that she never had to be disappointed by the fact that she had and lost fame. Instead, it's better if she never had it, if I'm following the logic here correctly.

Jepsen and her two bandmates recognized it was best to strike when the iron was still tepid and ventured into the studio with enough co-producers and songwriters to choke a "Tribute to Lou Perlman" compilation. Jepsen's debut album was released and promptly fell off the public radar, failing to surpass 100,000 sales. This sort of situation is hardly unique. Plenty of big hits have been followed by a loud sucking noise as fans rush off to examine the Next Big Thing, creating a temporary vacuum in their wake.

St. Asaph discusses the internet's well-chronicled role in Jepsen's rapid rise to fame, though, it's not so much the rise to stardom that concerns St. Asaph (and leads toward murder charges being brought against the Internet). It's what happened during the rise. In her estimation, the homicidal Internet took the spotlight off of the talented Jepsen and shone it on itself, taking something vital away from the actual artist with the endless stream of remixes, lip dubs, image macros, covers and other forms of audience participation.

This sounds counterintuitive; shouldn't it help Jepsen for thousands of people to remix, recreate and otherwise rejoice over her song? But the meme's not about Jepsen; it's about her song, and she is secondary... This is the problem Carly Rae Jepsen's facing: loving "Call Me Maybe" as a meme hasn't made people invested in her as a musician.

That may seem unfortunate, but it's hardly unique and it's hardly new. It certainly isn't an "Internet" problem. In fact, throw quotes around "problem" as well. Super-popular pop stars are rarely embraced as artists. They're embraced as temporary phenomena, a momentary distraction to be enjoyed until the next groundswell displaces them.

Long before the Internet was meming artists to death on a regular basis (and in broad daylight!), people were picking up and discarding pop phenomena nearly as quickly. (If you don't want a bunch of horrible songs stuck in your head, you might want to skip ahead to the next paragraph.) Remember the "Macarena?" Did anyone ever care about the musicians behind the devilishly circuitous hook or the "choreographer" that crafted a dance so easily emulated your grandmother has probably attempted it? How was the album, I ask rhetorically, as if anyone outside of the artists involved have ever listened to the entire thing? How about Right Said Fred, whose "I'm Too Sexy" took clubs by storm for an entirely unreasonable amount of time before vanishing into the pop ether? Lou Bega, temporary mambo king who finally hit it big with his 5th attempt? How about Jesus Jones, who had two singles hit the US Hot 100 but managed to leave the charts untroubled for the next four albums? Chumbawumba were a frickin' anarchist collective, and yet, all anyone in the US knows is they cranked out the perfect drinking song about drinking. The list could go on and on and that's only covering a small part of a single decade.

The Internet doesn't split the artist from their creations. It certainly provides more avenues for interpretation but it doesn't change anything about humanity's relationship with charting artists. Very few artists enjoy continued mainstream success, no matter how artistically valid their non-hit offerings are. To lay this at the feet of an inherently participatory culture that was previously limited to drunkenly bellowing their 75% correct karaoke interpretation or drunkenly performing a 75% correct interpretive dance is to take a few steps into elitist territory and chastise people for only liking the "hits." The tool set the Internet provides may bring a much wider variety of participation (and bring it much faster), but it's not anyone's "fault" that Carly Rae Jepsen's album isn't racking up hundreds of thousands of sales. That's simply the nature of pop culture. The phrase "15 minutes of fame" has been around since before you had an internet connection.

And while you're fitting the Internet for a Murder One charge, you might want to step back and consider that Jepsen's rise to superstardom, however brief, was largely due to this very same Internet. While it's true that the Internet wears many hats -- some white, some black -- you can't just hold it responsible for destroying artists and ignore its star-making power.

We already wrote about the motions from Megaupload, the MPAA and Kyle Goodwin, concerning Goodwin's attempts to regain access to the backup files he uploaded to Megaupload. However, there is also the Justice Department's own filing, which deserves its own separate post.

As we noted a little over a week ago, Goodwin, represented by the EFF, was using Goodwin's attempt to retrieve his data to also seek to unseal the seizure order that led to Megaupload's servers being taken. The Justice Department clearly does not want that, and you can see it by the way in which it hits back at Goodwin. It insists that Goodwin hasn't done nearly enough to prove that he actually has "property" hosted on those servers:

To date, Mr. Goodwin has failed to make such a showing – he has not shown that he has a cognizable, legal interest in property seized by the government, nor has he shown a deprivation of a property interest based on any government seizure.... The only facts submitted to the Court by Mr. Goodwin regarding his interest in the servers imaged by the government are in a declaration he submitted in support of Non-Party Carpathia Hosting’s Emergency Motion for a Protective Order where he states he used Megaupload’s service.... However, if mere use of the service was sufficient to create a legal ownership interest in servers leased by Megaupload from Carpathia, then there could be hundreds, if not hundreds of thousands, of “owners” of each and every single Carpathia server. Such a result is absurd. Cf. Board of Public Utility Comm’rs v. N.Y. Tel. Co., 271 U.S. 23, 32 (1923) (“Customers pay for the service, not for the property used to render it . . . . By paying bills for service they do not acquire any interest, legal or equitable, in the property used for their convenience[.]”).

Talk about willfully misrepresenting Goodwin's position... Goodwin isn't claiming a property interest because he used the service, but because he uploaded his own content. He's not claiming a property interest in Megaupload, but just in the data he uploaded. Apparently the DOJ is trying out diversion techniques to hide from the real issue.

The DOJ then goes on to state, by footnote, that they believe that even if Goodwin's content was taken down by the government's actions, that's okay because he was probably infringing anyway:

Based on the government’s review of Mr. Goodwin’s website, ohiosportsnet.tv, the list of files uploaded by a Megaupload user using the account name “ohiosportsnet,” and the MD5 hash values of those files, it is not clear that Mr. Goodwin or his company owns the rights to all the data that he (or others using the “ohiosportsnet” account) uploaded to Megaupload. Numerous videos produced by Mr. Goodwin have as their soundtracks recordings of popular copyrighted music. Many videos on his website begin with a statement describing the copyrighted music and including a disclaimer such as “we don’t own the rights.” In addition, the “ohiosportsnet” account at Megaupload had uploaded numerous music files, including music files with MD5 values that matched the hash values of pirated versions of popular music. Even assuming Mr. Goodwin has not contracted his rights to any data uploaded to Megaupload away, the extent and nature of those rights may vary file to file.

Indeed, the nature of the rights may, in fact, vary file to file. And that's true of everything hosted on Megaupload... or any other server online. And yet, the DOJ's own actions were to take down the whole damn thing, ignoring the fact that there was plenty of legitimate and non-infringing content there. Yet now it wants to parse carefully about how each file may have different rights? Really?

Furthermore, as the EFF has pointed out in an interview with Tim Lee at Ars Technica, the DOJ's admission that they specifically looked up Goodwin's Megaupload account raises other serious questions about the DOJ abusing its powers:

But Samuels says it's the government who has some explaining to do. "The government's approach should terrify any user or provider of cloud computer services," Samuels told Ars by e-mail. "The government apparently searched through the data it seized for one purpose, in order to use it against someone who was hurt by its actions but who is plainly not the target of any criminal investigation, much less the one against Megaupload."

Samuels told us that the government's response to Goodwin's petition demonstrates "that if users try to get their property back, the government won't hesitate to comb through it to try to find an argument to use against them."

From there, the DOJ continues its sleight of hand tricks, by claiming that if Goodwin has any issue it's with Carpathia (the hosting company) or Megaupload, since his contracts are limited to them:

Any ownership interest by Mr. Goodwin in that data would be limited by at least two separate agreements: (1) the contract between Carpathia and Megaupload regarding Megaupload’s use of Carpathia servers; and, more specifically, (2) the written agreement between Megaupload and Mr. Goodwin regarding use of Megaupload’s service. Those contracts not only bind Mr. Goodwin’s use of Megaupload’s service and Carpathia’s servers, they also likely limit any property interest he may have in the data stored on Carpathia’s property.

This conveniently ignores that the DOJ ran roughshod over any agreements and just took the whole damn thing down, and then told Carpathia to delete all the evidence. It would seem that those actions have some bearing on the legal proceedings of the guy who'd just like his data back.

Basically, the government, as it's known to do, is playing hardball here. It doesn't want its own actions looked at closely, so it's challenging Goodwin's credibility while insisting that if anything does go forward, it's focused very very narrowly on Goodwin's specific situation, rather than the government's giddy bull-in-a-china-shop routine that created this mess in the first place.

The Hollywood Reporter recently had an article which is pretty much all doom and gloom about the movie industry, based on a conference at USC about the "Entertainment Law and Business." Seeing as it's an LA event, it's not surprising that much of the story took the typical Hollywood line about how terrible things are these days. But what's amazing is that it seems to treat the success stories as if they're failures. It quotes YouTube star Sam Tsui, who points out that "you can't become complacent as a content creator -- you need to do new, exciting stuff" and turns that into the complaint that artists have to spend all their time running "to keep in the same place." Most of us call that "a job."

But the really stunning bit is that right after three paragraphs moaning about the state of the indie film business today, there's this:

Even when the indy news is good, it isn’t: Wilson said she saw more films on offer at the Cannes Film Market in May than she’d seen in a decade. That bountiful crop translates to an oversupply of product, a point Zimmer emphasized when he noted that there are only three key buyers of arthouse product remaining, Focus, Fox Searchlight and The Weinstein Company.

Er. Wait. That is good news. More films at Cannes than in a decade? Seems like lots of people are still making movies, and still have tremendous incentive to create, even if some of the old guard haven't quite figured out the business model just yet. Even more hilarious is the "explanation" for this "oversupply":

Panelists spoke ominously of films getting made "that shouldn't have gotten made."

Remember, these are basically the same people who are complaining all the time that movies won't get made if they don't get extra special protections. These are the same folks who say that the film business is collapsing and it's all a disaster. And then... when the evidence to the contrary is shown -- with more movies showing up at Cannes than any year in a decade -- that too is suddenly incorporated into the "disaster narrative" even though it goes directly against their claims. So, apparently, the movie business is collapsing and movies won't get made any more, and the evidence of this is that a ton of new movies got made last year.

Recently, Extra Credits did a great episode on game demos and why no one makes them any more. The reason came down to the fact that it was really tough to make a game demo that really allowed a game to shine -- you were more likely to make a great game look terrible. In this episode, they talked about the need some people have to try out a game before they buy it and that free to play games were one way to accommodate that need. I would also add to this that piracy is another way some gamers try a game before they buy.

Just as it is important that people who play a demo get a good experience that leaves them wanting more, the same should be said of the full game itself. If your game sucks, people will stop playing it, word will spread and fewer people will buy it. This word of mouth also comes from those who pirate the game. Although they never paid the developer money, these players are still willing to speak their mind when it comes to the games that really make an impression on them. So it is still important to make a great game.

It was this last scenario, of people pirating a game and then talking about its bugs, that led one developer to take to the Pirate Bay to let those players know that a patch was coming. Jonatan Soderstrom is one of the developers behind a recently released game, Hotline Miami. After the game showed up on the Pirate Bay, people started complaining about bugs they ran into.

However, a few people had a couple of problems getting the game to run.

“Whenever I try starting the game I get [an] error,” user randir12 explained. “Error defining an external function.”

“Sometimes the game works if I click ignore, but there’s no sound.”

Instead of letting these players get help from other Pirate Bay users, Jonatan, as user cactus69, showed up himself with advice and news of a coming patch.

Hey there! I’m Jonatan Soderstrom, me and my friend Dennis Wedin made this game.

We’re working on an update that hopefully will take care of any/all bugs, and we’ll try to do some extra polish in the next few days. Would be great if you could update the torrent when the patch is out! It’d be great if people get to play it without any bugs popping up. Hope everyone will enjoy the game!

For the ‘Error defining an external function’ problem, try restarting your system and play again, it can pop up when your computer has been running for a while. We’ll try to figure out if there’s more to it than that.

While such direct contact between pirates and a game's developer is not entirely new (we have seen something like this before) it is still not the norm, and a great way to make an impression on the fans of the game. Soderstrom was able to put out a potential fire that could have led to some people to never picking the game up. In fact, this was his thought process on taking that effort. In a pair of tweets, Jonatan explained that he both understood why people might pirate, but also that it was important that they have a good experience.

I don't really want people to pirate Hotline Miami, but I understand if they do. I've been broke the last couple of months. It sucks.

And I definitely want people to experience the game the way it's meant to be experienced. No matter how they got a hold of it.

That great experience is one of the most important things any creator should work toward. It doesn't matter how much time and money you put into a game, movie, album or book. If the output does not meet the expectation of those who experience it, they will tell others. That will lead to even more people avoiding it. However, as you work toward making the best possible experience and you are completely open about faults, then people will respect you more, and often look past any flaws to support you.

Although crowdsourcing is all the rage at the moment, there has to be a worry that this is just the latest fad in the world of technology, and will soon follow portals and the blink tag into justified oblivion. Occasionally, though, an application of crowdsourcing appears that seems to address a real problem in a way that would be otherwise intractable.

In the UK, the authorities have discovered that a deadly disease affecting ash trees has started to spread from the rest of Europe, where it has been destroying forests for some time -- in Denmark and Sweden, 90% of ash trees are affected. The challenge is to find as many of the outbreaks of the disease as quickly as possible, in an attempt to stop it spreading even more widely to the UK's 80 million ash trees.

That's an impossible task given the limited number of scientists and experts available, and the large number of forests scattered over a wide area. So researchers at the University of East Anglia have come up with the idea of enlisting the public using a smartphone app. Clearly, untrained observers would be unable to make reliable assessments of outbreaks directly. But what they can do is to photograph ash trees that look as if they might be infected (pdf), and send these images to experts who would then decide whether further action needs to be taken:

The free "Ashtag" app will make it possible for anyone to take a photo of diseased leaves, shoots or bark and send it remotely to plant pathologists to identify whether or not the tree isinfected.

As well as collecting photographic evidence, the app also uses geo-tagging software to give a precise location of infected trees -- allowing researchers and authorities to build up a picture of where the dieback is happening. This can then be used to target areas for culling to stop the spread of the disease.

As that points out, geotagging allows the individual photographs to be aggregated to form an overall picture of where the infection is concentrated in the country. That will permit action to be taken where it most needed, and will also provide a picture of how the disease is spreading. Crowdsourcing is really the only way to gather so much information from such a large area, so quickly, and on a continuous basis.

Other benefits of this approach are that it allows members of the public to become engaged with scientific work, and to contribute directly to the fight against this disease. Too often people feel alienated from the research they are paying for through their taxes, and frustrated that they can't do more to tackle an issue that concerns them. Crowdsourcing helps to tackle both problems.

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