#1ReasonWhy Gamers Should Care About This Trend

I tried really hard not to write this post.  I've touched on gender in two posts before, but this subject is so big, and so delicate, that I was legitimately worried to write it.  But the #1ReasonWhy trend on Twitter today has convinced me that I need to approach this topic.  This post is going to be long.  It might be uncomfortable.  And, while I have tried to keep the language here tame and analytical, it might be difficult for some people to read -- and some of the content I link might contain triggers.

I don't develop games.  In gaming, I am strictly a consumer.  I have, however, been playing console games since 1991 and online games since 1997.  Gaming, in its many forms, is a hobby of mine and an important element in my social life.  I'm also a fan of pencil-and-paper roleplaying games and tech culture in general, two areas that share a large portion of their populations with the "gamer" culture.

In case you haven't seen the Internet for the past 24 hours, #1ReasonWhy is a massive trend in social media today discussing why women are (drastically) underrepresented in the game design industry.  It started with one simple question, and has resulted in a torrent of tweets about sexism in the industry, a movement to create mentoring relationships, and many blog posts on the subject.  The movement has thrown a light on some truly disturbing trends (and also a series of heartwarming stories).

However, people outside the gaming industry -- and particularly men -- may be struggling to see the relevance of this trend.  As a male gamer, I have found the #1ReasonWhy trend very striking, and I'm writing this post to explain why other male gamers should care about it.

The reason is this:  Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II, The Sith Lords.

No, really.  I'm serious.

Take This DRM. It's Dangerous to Distribute Games Alone.

(I am back after a couple of weeks of intense thesis immersion.  So let's talk about The Legend of Zelda.)

Let's be honest: If you never wanted to erase Navi, link's fairy companion in The Ocarina of Time, then you never played The Ocarina of Time.  If I had to make a list of the top modifications I wanted to otherwise great games, deleting Navi would top the list, and it wouldn't even be close.  If I had the time, energy, and technical skill, I would go back and erase Navi from the game myself, just to be able to go back and play the game without her.

Entrepreneur, gamer, and candidate for Dad of the Year Mike Hoye recently modded his own copy of The Wind Waker, Link's first adventure on the GameCube in the Legend of Zelda series.  He didn't remove the fairy companion; to the best of my knowledge (I don't own a GameCube), there is no fairy companion in The Wind Waker.  Instead, he painstakingly changed the dialogue to change protagonist Link's gender from male to female.

Hoye enjoys playing video games with his daughter, but was frustrated by the lack of positive female role models in games.  So he did the sensible thing, and built one.  He didn't change the plot or the function of the game, just a few words here and there to make the game more accessible to his daughter.  He also made his modifications available to the public for other concerned parents.

But this isn't a post about gender in video games.  Everyone knows that video games have done a terrible job of handling gender in any sensible way, with very few and limited exceptions.  No, I want to talk about copyright.  Mike Hoye's labor of love is demonstrative of why our copyright system isn't just broken; it's insanely broken.

Why?  Hoye's brilliant Zelda hack is probably illegal.

Italy's Assault on Science? Not Necessarily.

I have seen a lot of ink over the conviction of six Italian scientists (and one other government official) in L'Aquila last week. The coverage, to put it mildly, has been bad. A serious injustice has occurred here, but most of the English-language media have been too busy sensationalizing to comment meaningfully on it.

For anyone not familiar with the situation, a 2009 earthquake in L'Aquila, Italy, caused the deaths of more than 300 people. In the days leading up to the earthquake, tremors in the area appeared to indicate a coming earthquake. One Italian official, on information from the Italian National Commission for the Forecast and Prevention of Major Risks, stated that an earthquake was unlikely. After the quake, the official and six scientists at the Commission were charged with manslaughter on the theory that their "inexact, incomplete and contradictory" statements caused people to stay when they should have fled the area. Last week, the Italian court handed down a verdict of guilty and a potential sentence of 6 years.

Make no mistake about it: This is a bad thing. Seven people who do not deserve imprisonment look likely to get it. (Although, under Italian law, the sentence must be reviewed.) But the English-language press, out of the United States and United Kingdom, has largely missed the point. They have focused on largely on two things: 1) This conviction bends the definition of "manslaughter" and 2) This conviction is an attack on science that will have a chilling effect on how scientists do business.

I am not really convinced that either one is true.