Going through my folders and deleting a bunch of old stuff. Wanted to post this up for posterity. Draft for a series of tiles to get printed on heavy cardstock, used in various miniatures games (with and without hex grids). Later this would have been a great Kickstarter project, but at the time there wasn’t any great way to build up a market and confidently order enough to make the price reasonable. These days I don’t do enough drawing and graphics work to crank these out.
After years of thinking about it I finally got a 3D printer. Several models currently on the market at last hit the combo of price, print quality, and ease of use for which I’d been waiting. I haven’t done much with it yet, but so far it’s really exciting. Getting it set up and making my first print was wondrously easy, even in the somewhat obscure variant of Linux I use. Similarly, I was able to whip together a quick test part in a simple 3D modeler that was vastly quicker and more intuitive for that small job than the engineering CAD tools with which I’m familiar, and browser based to boot.
Some test parts. What’s up, Rocktopus?
I have just three thoughts to share while I listen to the servos on another print.
One is just a reflection on the shocking banality of magic. This is a magical device. And yet it sits on my desk, at home. The whole process is magic:
Nearly everything about that sequence is almost so easy to overlook today. Having an uncommon, advanced electrical appliance delivered almost immediately is a concept that would have been all but unfathomable to regular consumers even ten years ago, and very expensive five years ago. The whole Internet component of that process is itself such deep magic taken so trivially for granted these days. But producing a complex physical artifact is still this moment just rare enough that it highlights the heights of sorcery which we have brought into our everyday lives.
Just, you know, surfin’ around, lookin’ for some demon knight sculptures to turn into physical artifacts. Typical Thursday.
I saw my first 3D printer some seventeen years ago. As a college freshman, already working in two research labs, I tagged along on a trip to a conference on solid modeling. One of the corporate vendors in the exhibit hall was demoing a 3D printer for rapid prototyping in mechanical design. Some of the features are still not that common: It had two extruder heads, so they had a great demo wherein they printed an enclosed gearbox as one solid piece using two materials, dunked the piece in solvent to dissolve one of them, and produced a functional, intricate mechanical drivetrain that would be near impossible to build out of separate components.
At the time that demo was amazing, science fiction. But today, you can readily buy that kind of dual-head capability for home use. My printer does not have two heads, but I could buy or make an upgrade to do so. And it’s likely that the resolution on mine is as good or better as on that extremely expensive machine I saw then.
Sometimes it’s surprisingly difficult to see technological progress, either because it’s invisible or actually hasn’t happened. Just to pick two examples: It’s difficult for most people to really appreciate the improvements in automotive technology that actually have been made, as the real developments are all literally under the hood and body and mostly show up in absentia, via dramatic reductions in fatalities and pollution. Meanwhile, a true lack of progress, much of America still has barely better Internet access than it had when I was growing up on dial-up.
But this device is concrete and tangible progress you can put on your desk. Over just the course of my adult life so far, less than two decades, 3D printing has advanced from a technology just starting to transition beyond a research concept, to one rapidly becoming a household commodity appliance.
An exemplar of one of the world’s most advanced technologies! … being used here to print a literal tower of skulls for next month’s boardgaming …
My second thought is that, of course, this has happened before. One of my very earliest memories is the soft blue console glow from the Commodore 64 that my dad put in my bedroom as a very young kid. There has effectively never not been a computer in my life, and the profound impact that early, constant exposure and intimate familiarity has had on my career, friendships, and life is incalculable.
Demographically though I am certainly on the leading edge of the populace for which that could have been the case. Even up through to high school it was just starting, even in middle class circles among the more education-committed households, to be reasonable to assume that people had a computer at home. And yet, the middle class and up cohort born then will essentially all never have known a life without computers. Over that fifteen years or so PCs had advanced from new, somewhat obscure technology, to a near ubiquitous household item.
As a new father then, it behooves me to think—and worry—about what is next. My wife was teasing me earlier than our daughter is going to grow up thinking that everyone has a 3D printer. But that’s exactly right, everyone will. Not next year, not the year after, but absolutely by the time our baby is in high school and quite likely while she’s still in elementary school, these are going to be everywhere. Right now you can walk into several big box chain stores and pick up a 3D printer for a few hundred dollars or less. Granted, those models might not be that capable or that robust. But that’s only a question of time. This isn’t a technology that’s coming, it’s already here, already massively changing engineering and design, and poised to change business and everyday life. Being immersively fluent in 3D modeling and rapid bespoke manufacturing is going to have the same magnitude of bearing on being a scientist, engineer, or any number of other careers that computers had for my cohort. So, yes, our daughter will always have one of these around.
This interface just exudes science! … as I print my demon knight.
The follow-up question is then: What else? 3D printing, drones and autonomous vehicles, massively capable AI, ubiquitous gene hacking, these are all coming, probably in that order. “When?” is inarguably a matter of huge uncertainly, but almost certainly well within the timeframe in which I need to worry about putting my baby ahead of those waves reshaping the world.
Fortunately I am professionally and personally disposed to be fluent and comfortable with most of those. But gene hacking? I only know the most rudimentary, textbook aspects. More troublingly, what else am I missing, what imminent paradigm change is not on my radar? Once upon a time and still ongoing, computers changed everything. An awful lot of people didn’t see that coming. But now there are upheavals looming not just in practical work and daily living, but basic conceptions of production, privacy, creativity, science, and even personhood. How to prepare a little person for an onslaught of change that will be deeper and faster than anything to come before, and will likely only get deeper and faster?
That prospect should be scary. In many regards it is terribly so. Humanity as a gestalt is tragically unprepared to harness and manage these disruptions.
On an individual level though, the true fundamentals will remain so even as the world qualitatively changes. Direct familiarity with the tools will always matter, and it’s grossly unfortunate that inequality in access seems poised to only grow with time. But humanity’s ultimate toolset will always be the same: Critical thinking, curiosity, empathy, our intelligence and values. Just as determinative as my newfangled home computer to my comparative success navigating the information age were much more time-honored assets: The shelf of encyclopedias and dictionaries we had within kid-reach, and the weekly trips with mom to the library, hauling home stacks of Encyclopedia Brown, Star Trek, and Shakespeare.
So, this afternoon, baby and I will probably play with the 3D printer just a little bit. It is, after all, a pretty cool robot. But then, just like most days, we’ll read our increasingly tattered copy of Where’s Hedgehog?, crawl around exploring under the tables, and give big hugs to Zebra-Giraffe and all our animal buddies. Because, just as they have always been, these are the root skills, traits, and values I can give her that are going to help her through even the changes to come that I cannot possibly foresee. Thinking, curiosity, empathy. In the end that’s all there is under everything, no matter what new and magical forms the world takes.
Baby’s first 3D printer.
Sometime recently a new trailer went up for the Space Hulk: Deathwing video game. It’s pretty good:
Some of the guys have been discussing whether or not the unexpected musical selection, Kadebostany’s Walking With A Ghost, works. Juxtaposing action games with slower or offbeat music has definitely been a thing since at least the very successful, memorable, and beautiful “Mad World” trailer for Gears of War:
Given that Space Hulk: Deathwing is a Games Workshop licensee, it’s tempting to quickly dismiss the latest trailer as simple mimicry given GW’s general ineptness and the low quality of many of the offerings from both it and its licensees. However, I think the game studio developers quite possibly put a lot of thought into that selection, and that it comes close to inspired.
First, note how the whole video is well keyed to the music. That’s not coincidental, and took more than just slapping the song over the video. As a counter-example, note how easy it would have been to just throw Mad World over the Gears trailer. Although I don’t actually believe little effort went into tailoring that video to that music, it could have. That song doesn’t have a ton of really distinctive audio shifts, peaks, or valleys, and the action on the video is pretty subdued. They would basically work together no matter what, with no effort to sync them up. It takes a fair bit of close watching to actually pick up a few subtle touch points:
In contrast, Walking With A Ghost has a couple pace changes and definite valleys, all of which the Space Hulk trailer video is keyed to. Several are pretty overt:
All in all, the video seems to have been certainly choreographed to the music and at a minimum the latter not just cynically slapped on in a cheap ploy to stand out or evoke some gravitas and intellectual veneer.
A few connections though are more subtle and tied to the lyrics, e.g.:
With that, it’s worth looking at the full lyrics of the song:
I’m just walking with a ghost
And he’s walking by my side
My soul is dancing on my cheek
I don’t know where the exit isEvery day is still the same
And I don’t know what to do
I’m carrying my tears in a plastic bag
And it’s the only thing I got from youI have short hair
And I’m faced with a few complications
So, so if you care
Try to analyse the situation
You know, man
As the leaves fall on the ground
My soul is goin’
Round and round and roundSo please, do it well
Just break the spell
Why don’t you do it right?
I don’t want another fight
I’m not creatin’
My flow with my ego
I’m taking off my hood
And I’m entering deeply in the wood
You know, manBugs are my only food
And it puts me in a strange mood
I ain’t giving you my heart
On a silver plate
Why couldn’t we be just mates?
Oh no, never come back to me
Oh no, never come back to meI wish i could be a child, write me another dance, another chance, another romance
we could just be friendsI wish i could be a child, write me another dance, another chance, another romance
it could be the end
Accepting a fair dose of lyricism, that actually captures and references an awful lot about a Space Marine’s life, especially those fighting in a space hulk.
It starts with the opening lines:
I’m just walking with a ghost
And he’s walking by my side
What does a Space Marine do but trudge along with the Emperor’s will aiding his every move and his spirit foremost in the Marine’s mind?
Bouncing around a bit, there’s a middle stanza about the Marines’ monastic lifestyle and how their dedication to the Emperor and setting aside of themselves is what gives them their strength as they wade into combat against tremendous odds in dark, unknown enemy territory:
I’m not creatin’
My flow with my ego
I’m taking off my hood
And I’m entering deeply in the wood
Toward the end, it turns out we’re specifically hearing from a Space Marine fighting, probably until he dies, with Tyranids—the bugs of this particular franchise:
Bugs are my only food
And it puts me in a strange mood
I ain’t giving you my heart
On a silver plate
Why couldn’t we be just mates?
Oh no, never come back to me
Oh no, never come back to me
Most dramatically though, most of the song captures what I take as an overarching theme of the Space Marines:
I don’t know where the exit is
Every day is still the same
And I don’t know what to do…
My soul is goin’
Round and round and roundSo please, do it well
Just break the spell
Why don’t you do it right?
I don’t want another fight…
I wish i could be a child, write me another dance, another chance, another romance
we could just be friends
These lines are all about one of the central pathos of the Space Marines. They’re in many ways the pinnacle of humanity. It’s not generally readily apparent from the actual games, but these guys are all ostensibly artists and scholars without par. They’re brilliant, talented, dedicated, create great works while traveling between battles, and have built and maintain the greatest, most human, most advanced worlds and societies remaining in the Imperium of Man. But by and large, they spend all their time locked in a deathgrip with the universe, dying easily and frequently in endless combat in order to defend humanity, often times from itself.
That’s a key part of the appeal of the faction to me: Those Marines that haven’t become completely inured and numbed to that role must realize the deep tragedy of their lives. The brightest and most foresighted must futilely long for a way out of all the fighting, an impossible cessation of endless, all-consuming war. Though their personal specifics are lost to them through their conditioning (presumably—the fluff’s a bit contradictory), some of them must yearn to go back before they were inducted, when they were still children leading simple lives, unconcerned about the fate of humanity and not facing constant pain and death.
So, I would argue that even besides the choreography, the lyrics of the song actually make it an appropriate choice as well.
I figure there’s half a chance the producers of the trailer really did just throw on a cool song they heard that would maybe help their trailer stand out. That said, there’s little denying the whole video has been crafted around that selection. The choreography is too tightly synced, to music that decidedly requires it. At a minimum they weren’t just crassly thrown together with no effort.
At a maximum, the piece was actually chosen with some thought as to the lyrics and what’s going on in this fictional universe. Obviously all of the textual reading above is bullshit and nonsense. But it’s at least as valid as any literary interpretation out there, and I could believe it occurred to a developer if they happened to be actual fans and devotees of the 40k universe.