“Now Hug Yer Brain and Keep Playing:” Deciphering Jason Nelson

Playing Jason Nelson’s games/art creations felt like my brain was being assaulted. It is messy, often incoherent, and destabilizing in many ways. I read that chaos as a way of mimicking both the overwhelming amount of information that is accessible in the age of the internet and the overwhelming amount of “choices” we have as consumers in a capitalist society. Further, the chaos is ultimately meant to critique these elements of society by forcing the reader/player to decipher some sort of meaning from the work. I’ll focus here primarily on “i made this. you play this. we are enemies.” because I think it is the clearest of Nelson’s games. (If it is even possible to use the word clear in relation to Nelson.)

The overtones of consumer culture are evident from the beginning. The opening level — “Monopoland” — is littered with the words “buy,” “sell,” and “soap.” The sound effects include repetitive cash register noises. The video clip shows a street where there are racks of clothing out for sale. “i made this…” doesn’t stop at just the consumption of physical goods however; Nelson goes on to explore the consumption of information and art. To narrow this down to just three of the websites which form the background of each level — there’s Google, for navigating the massive amount of information on the internet; Disney, a mass producer of art; and the RIAA, as the regulator for the consumption of art. None of these go without critique:

We’re presented a vision of “Google culture,” which Nelson seems to suggest is responsible for supplanting a desire to learn things through experience in favor of a “soft ad sleep.”   Rather than choosing to go to a new place and learn or explore (as we are urged to do in Nelson’s instructions), his “soft ad sleep” suggests again a life/identity built out of consumption rather than any authentic exploration or decision-making.  This lack of autonomy is suggested over and over again.  For just one example I’ll point to one moment where the player moves through a portal and the message “now you’re here spoonfed” (or something similar) pops up.

I found the critique of Disney especially interesting.  The cartoon characters cause the player to die if they cross paths, casting Disney’s “secretly dull cartoons” as enemies in the game.  This idea of “secretly dull cartoons,” coupled with another one of the flashing messages (“You’ve been disney’fied” or something to that effect) points toward Disneyfication of culture — a diluting of ideas/art where everything negative is stripped away or masked; a homogenizing process meant to appeal to the masses, prompt more consumption, and generate more profit.

With his comments on the RIAA, who I take to be the “they” who “sleep on beds filled with the lunch money of 100,00 poor teens” Nelson critiques the consumerist culture born out of capitalism as something which is fueled by a rather inhumane kind of greed.

That Nelson’s scribbles, poetry and animations flash over these websites is important. Not only do they give the player a starting point for interpretation, they also provide the starting text for what becomes a barely legible palimpsest.  With each new layer of chaos, Nelson puts us in a space more and more distant from our everyday experiences of these same spaces, challenging us to question what we might otherwise not stop to think about.  The aesthetic reminds me of blackout poetry — a process of creation somewhat counterintuitively done via deletion/destruction.  It is this rewriting through destruction that challenges us to question these aspects of the world and create our own interpretation from the chaos.

A Postmodern Interpretation of Jason Nelson

This blog post promises to not be very coherent, but I’m going to attempt to throw some ideas out there about Jason Nelson’s work. First, everyone should know that Nelson, in spite of the initial “No, really, I think he’s on drugs” reaction we probably all had, is very prolific. His works go back for at least a decade (and are organized fairly chronologically on his website), and they all seem to display a similar aesthetic. However, I realized earlier today as I tried to explain to a friend why she should check out the games we looked at for class that Nelson’s aesthetic is sort of hard to define. Pkeily has started the discussion about how Nelson uses the glitch aesthetic combined with smoother images in order to criticize institutions and to subvert the video game genre. I think part of the reason he combines the glitch aesthetic with smoothness is to destabilize his readers/players and to create the exact issue I’m struggling with: what is his aesthetic?

I see postmodernism everywhere, so I’d like to assert that Nelson’s difficult to define aesthetic comes from his use of the postmodern technique of intertextuality, or the weaving of different types of texts. Nelson takes intertextuality to an extreme by merging many different types of media, forms of writing, and topics. He’s working within the digital medium overall, but he also includes videos, photography, drawings, songs, graphs (see videograph fictions), globes (see With love, from a failed planet), charts, and games. He writes both short fiction and digital poetry, and he covers history, pop culture, industry, business, classic literature, and politics (see, again, videograph fictions).

Perhaps most importantly, Nelson presents himself as an artist working with several different art forms. This all-encompassing artistic consciousness has allowed him to create an extremely distinct style, voice, and visual aesthetic. The glitchy-smoothness and intentional messiness of his work ensures that it is all characteristically his. In additional to this visual signature, Nelson’s voice in writing is also very recognizable in its strange combination of humor and cynicism (see, again, With love, from a failed planet).

As is common with postmodern works of literature, the form of Nelson’s work mirrors its content. In the games we played for class today, we can easily make the assumption that the visual elements of the game are meaningless and ignore them in favor of focusing on “winning.” Likewise, we see nonsensical text in the first level of the first game and then assume that the rest of the text will be pointless to read as well. These are both incorrect assumptions, as we later learn that the images and videos throughout the game provide insight (which pkeily explains in more depth than I do) and sections of the text make sense as well. This is just one other of several more ways that Nelson further destabilizes the reader/player’s experience.

TL;DR: Jason Nelson uses the classic postmodern technique of intertextuality to create his difficult-to-define personal aesthetic.

Also, this is one of the coolest things I’ve seen on the internet: sydney’s siberia. It’s “an infinitely zoomable digital poem created from 130 image/poetry tiles which generate an interactive mosaic” (by Jason Nelson, of course).

Clearing the clouds, clouding the clear

For today’s class we all played Jason Nelson’s four part game series “Arctic Acre Oddities and Curious Lands.” In these games Nelson uses glitch aesthetic to overturn a lot of standard notions about how a video game should deliver meaning and how one should function. Instead of making anymore generalizations right now about all of the games I’ll take a look at the individual games in an attempt to offer some insight into these complex, dense works.

Nelson describes the first game, “game, game, game and again game,” as a “digital poem/game/net art work hybrid,” which is as good a description as any for this unorthodox work. In this game the player controls a black and red/yellow circle with squiggles coming off of it. I’ll call it a cell because the squiggles look like flagella or cilia and because it’s a simple way to refer to the sprite. The cell can only move left or right and jump. The game progresses by “collecting” (moving onto) objects, which in turn cause other text(in the general sense) to appear on the screen. The score at the top of the screen changes whenever an object is collected. The score is tabulated in indecipherable  symbols, so the goal of the game is not to collect points, but to explore Nelson’s text. Throughout the 13 levels Nelson shows the absurdity and fallibility of human belief systems by presenting nonsensical takes on various belief systems. For example in “the capitalist level” moves the cell up a stepped graph collecting shining dollar signs, much like real capitalism where the object is to acquire ever increasing amounts of money. The dollar signs are depicted in black and red, which is interesting because black and red can be used to reference anarcho-syndacalism, an ideology explicitly opposed to capitalism. Once the cell reaches the top of the graph, the only place to go is down. Capitalism’s infinite growth model is impossible, once the highest point has been reached there’s nowhere to go but down.

In “game, game, game and again game” the crude nature of Nelson’s design mocks the sleek look institutions put on (think priests in robes, stained glass windows, businessmen in suits, corporate logos) to assert their authority and hide their contradictions. The unpolished look also serves to contradict the expectation that the creator of a work should be giving the reader/player a determined meaning to latch onto. Nelson challenges us to devise thoughts or meanings of our own from the chaotic whirlpool he throws at us. In the first level of the second game “i made this, you play this, we are enemies” incorporates smooth designs into the glitch aesthetic. When the words “buy” or “sell” are collected clip-art-like images of a shield reading “simple is bleak is hypnosis”, flowers, and stars (one even says “smooth brands”) appear. The shield’s message could be a comment on those who criticize Nelson’s work for being simplistic, such a view is “bleak” or boring – showing the critic is unwilling to engage the work enough to extract some kind of meaning. Such critics are “hypnotized” by their pre-existing notions of what a video game should be.

Another aspect of the second game’s design I found fascinating was the use of websites for backgrounds. As objects are collected the backgrounds become more and more vandalized this mimics the sensory and information overload often experienced while surfing the web. Throughout the games as more text (in both senses) appears other parts of the game are obscured. For example, when the pop up videos appear they prevent the reader/player from reading certain parts of the text. These games are not only inaccessible in the non-commercial/non-mainstream sense, Nelson makes it difficult to access, i.e. to interpret, his work.

In the third game “Evidence of Everything Exploding” the artistic movement Dadaism is explicitly mentioned. This is significant because Nelson’s works is a great example of Dada, which uses technology that would be completely alien to the innovators of Dada in the early 20th century. One goal of Dada is to destroy or subvert traditional meaning with seemingly destructive techniques like collage in order to suggest and create new meanings. Nelson accomplishes this by subverting various ideas about video games, thereby leaving us to invent our own interpretation.

In the fourth game “alarmingly these are not lovesick zombies” the reader/player is given the most agency, the cell sprite from the first game returns with a red protrusion, it now can move in all directions and shoot. The score is kept in actual numerals, but once again serves mostly as a way to progress in the text. Advancing through this game requires the reader/player to die, half the levels are death levels and half are living levels. This challenges the traditional role of death in video games where death is something to be avoided. In between levels Nelson kindly gives us a “video theory of games” – videos where he gives his unique explanation of various aspects of video games. These videos give one meaning to “Arctic Acre” as a whole, but whether or not this meaning is satisfactory is open for debate, if it needs to be debated at all. It is a common assumption that reading or watching an interview with an artist will help clarify parts of their work. Nelson does subvert this expectation, but by subverting it the way he does he ends up clarifying the ambiguous nature of the games.