I finished the 2nd draft of a short story today. It’s so weird I don’t even want to get into what it’s about. It’ll either be great or ruin my relationships with everyone who reads it. But then I feel this way for all my favorite stories — when I was done with the King story, I felt exhilarated and so, so scared.

The new one’s an interesting example of how writing goes, too. I had the inspiration for the story randomly, let it simmer, wrote some ideas out, and then at night, when I was ready to go to sleep, I’d figure out a chunk of plot, or a way to handle something. And it ended up going like this:

Day 1: 500 amazingly painful words, 300 easy words
Days 2-5: 1000 words a day, each day ending with bitter doubt and fear that early readers will have me killed
Day 5: send out query to recruit early readers.
Day 6: chicken out of sending that draft out. Spend the day re-writing the story (as Erin gets increasingly testier about not seeing it). Send out.

One of the things I most miss about Clarion and having a weekly is the sense of rhythm. Each week, you have maybe one, two days to kick around concepts, and then it’s got to come together. Every idea has to be good enough to justify the pain it’ll take to implement. And the longer it takes to come up with an idea, the faster and simpler the implementation. Every week you produce and move on.

So contrast this to another short I’ve been trying to write for ages. It goes
Write
Abandon in frustration
Pick up, re-write
Throw across room
Abandon
Start from scratch
Abandon

At some point, I’m convinced I’ll be sitting around and something will come to me that’ll make it work, and it will be all the better for having tried it so often. But maybe not.

I’m reminded of this story I read, about a pottery class. Half the class was graded on the sheer weight of pots they created in the class, straight volume, and the other half only had to produce one pot all term. The ones that had to do only one spent their time wondering what a perfect pot would look like, and the other half cranked out pot after pot, and at the end of the term the volume half were producing far higher quality work and doing it quite fast, while the other side had but one crappy pot each to show.

There’s a lot of that in writing. The ability to turn out a good story depends not just on the ability to think of an idea, but in turning that into a story and do it reasonably fast. The faster you can try and fail at writing stories, the faster you can learn what works and doesn’t. But you can’t admit defeat and give up, either.

500 words a day. Even an idiot can write 500 words a day. So I do. Sometimes it pays off, and I turn some anxious, terrifying work over to my friends.

I’ve resisted writing about how as a long-time Kos member and flaming commie pinko I felt pretty betrayed and unsettled by how the scholarship thing went. I didn’t know how to put it beyond “I’m disturbed to find people on my side as capable of a mob mentality and baseless us-versus-them thinking as the other guys”. But this…

Bloggers and Caroline Kennedy

I haven’t asked any of them about this — and for all I know, some of them support Kennedy’s bid — but I suspect that to the extent there’s skepticism or even hostility, it’s because the whole ethos of this site is meritocracy, and it extends to the blogosphere as a whole. There’s nothing inherent in names like “Joshua Micah Marshall” or “Glenn Greenwald” that compels you to read them; you visit their sites because they’re good. On the other hand, the Internet is littered with sites and projects backed by big money and big names (remember Unity08?), but which collapsed because of lack of interest.

I know I haven’t ranted about this much, but holy crap. In the great Blog Scholarship dust-up, Kos and other front-page posters actively supported a progressive blogger who wasn’t nearly as good, hadn’t built an audience, hadn’t been recognized, and on and on because they were a progressive blogger with a Kos connection.

It wasn’t about merit. Dave asked his audience for votes, and they responded, and his competition asked for votes of his audience and didn’t get any so he went looking for table scraps off a larger site and got them. Over and over, it was “we need progressive bloggers more than some baseball guy” or “Dave’s a creep” or whatever.

It was never about merit. In a different kind of election, they supported the clearly worse candidate because of entirely superficial reasons including his dad’s progressive activism. Where was this merit-based evaluation standard when it mattered on a small scale?

A feature I’ve been fighting for almost all year went live 33m ago. This makes me so happy. More tomorrow.

Continuing on my long essays on the failings of my favorite game this year… also, spoiler alert.

Fallout 3 is far, far better than Farcry 2 and still manages to be frustrating in what turns out to be an important way.

First, I’ll talk about my Farcry problem and why it breaks the game. In Farcry 2, the main character is sent into Africa to kill Kurtz… I mean, some Kurtz stand-in, they don’t fess up that it’s all Heart of Darkness until quite late in the game. They become tangled up in an escalating civil war, which they resolve by killing everyone on the continent while taking on increasingly uncomfortable missions for two factions (really, it’s “go blow up this water purifier” “go kill this doctor” kind of stuff). So in the plot, there’s a persistent, growing tension and horror at what you’re doing that I kind of liked.

This is entirely wrecked by problems with the game, the biggest of which is the crippling roadblock problem. To get anywhere in the game, you have to either:
– walk, which takes forever, but you can avoid people
– drive, which means you get shot at at every intersection

Sometimes you can take a shortcut by bus and then steal a car. But largely it means that the game runs
1. get a mission
2. drive for 30s
3. change positions in the jeep to man the gun
4. shoot everyone at the roadblock
5. repeat steps 2-3 until you arrive at the destination

This is kind of cool for a while, because the way combat works in Farcry is pretty nice, and you end up anxious all the time, because a fight with a couple of schmucks can kill you, or escalate so fast you have to abandon a mission and run away entirely. But then it’s tiresome, and grating, and then you hate the game for it. The problem is persistence and the gap between any reasonable expectation and the gameplay.

The people at the roadblocks shoot at you no matter what side you’re working for, so it doesn’t matter if one side is winning or you’re favored or if you just killed a faction’s leader and they should be in disarray, or if you didn’t and they should feel secure. So instead of being part of the game and changing as you affect the game, they’re always-present enemy spawn points.

The roadblocks are restocked every time you turn your back. This is a game-breaker. If you’re on a mission that requires you to go A-B-A, you’ll go past roadblocks 1, 2, and 3, killing everyone at all of them, do the mission, and then run back 3,2,1, and every one of those stops will likely have an entirely new crew of moronic, heavily-armed gunmen who are way, way low on their lead dosage and are practically begging for the application of supplements delivered at high-speed.

Where do those guys come from?

No, really. The game is relatively geography-constrained in a low-population-density area where everyone who could has left and even the major cities are ghost towns. But after you kill ten people at a roadblock, someone crawls out of the bushes, puts up a “now hiring” sign, interviews and hires ten people, shows the “Welcome to the APR” video, hands them an assortment of weapons, and says “now go stand around and shoot at anyone who comes down this road”. Then they go hide in the bushes with the sign and wait for you to clear out the place again.

There’s a large checkpoint near the capital that I must have gone through dozens of times. But for all the explosions and death, the next time I’d go by, there were another set of militia.

Didn’t the place get a bad rep? Wouldn’t one of the applicants take a glance around and notice that the place had been shot up repeatedly, that hundreds of people had died there…that the brass casings ran three, four inches deep everywhere? Wouldn’t that affect recruiting in some way? No. Of course not. The depletion of what should be a massive portion of the country’s population doesn’t affect it. It doesn’t seem to staunch the flow of foreign mercenaries no matter how many of them don’t live to collect their next paycheck, and you’d think that sort of thing would make the informal rounds.

All game progress is lost in the absolute lack of world progress, and in something that’s supposed to be gritty and (relatively) realistic, a flaw like this that undermines the premise, the game world, and creates a frustrating experience ends up overwhelming and destroying what positive characteristics the game has.

Anyway. To Fallout 3. Fallout 3 deals with the same random encounter problem in a much different way: you’ll encounter small groups of enemies as you wander around. Their composition differs, and like Farcry 2, every encounter is potentially fatal, so there’s some tension (this does decrease when you get to be ridiculously bad-ass). It didn’t annoy me, though, for a couple of reasons:
– If your character’s observant enough, you can spot them early and avoid them
– Or if you’re sneaky enough, you can skulk right past them
– It fits into the world

It’s a lawless wasteland. It makes sense that there might be three or four people down by the river, or a giant scorpion on the next hill.

Now, there are problems with this. Later in the game, you can essentially figure out where the Super Mutants are coming from and clean that place out, but the Super Mutant problem doesn’t really ease. This is also a problem with the Brotherhood: they’re trying to figure out the answer to the Super Mutants, you-as-player can figure it out, but there’s no way to tell them (or at least none that I could figure out). So for much of the game, you’ll be fighting an enemy that could as a group be defeated if onlyyyyy…. and so I went into the climax thinking “I wish there was a way I could write them a letter or something… that would save as many lives as this climatic battle… shoot. I guess I’ll go on with the plot as I’m supposed to.” But this is tolerable, because you figure there are so many of them already out there, and the in-game content supports that.

Still, it’s frustrating. You’d expect that they’d attempt to retake their most important location, resulting in a larger fight, or that they’d scatter, or something different would happen.

Similarly, if you make a certain early-game decision, the Talon Company takes up a contract for your head with a reward of 1,000 caps. You pretty quickly make this a poor value proposition, as each time you encounter a team the team ends up dead and you get a set of weapons and armor to sell off. But consider it a sunk cost proposition, where each time they think “hey, we could use a quick thousand caps and it doesn’t look like teams A through H are going to show up for the team-building exercise, so let’s go pop the kid from Vault 101.” But I got annoyed about the constant encounters and cleared out Fort Bannister, which took some doing and a lot of ammunition.

Nothing. No reaction at all. They didn’t start throwing more stuff at me in revenge, or leave me alone entirely out of fear. There was no escalation or resolution here, either.

At the same time, the Enclave enemies are really well handled and it makes the game a lot better. Once the Enclave intervenes, and it’s established they have technology and soldiers to burn, they become a new enemy you encounter. It helps to tie the story into the larger world: they’re here, in force, they’re making running around significantly harder (if also a lot more potentially lucrative). You see the contrast.

Now compared to Farcry 2, the handling of random encounters is much less of a game problem, for two reasons:
– they provide a “fast travel” shortcut on the map you can use that takes you directly to the destination (where you may encounter enemies anyway)
– even if you hike there the long way, or have to travel on foot to discover the location, it doesn’t totally degrade the experience and make your life miserable. It would be more satisfying if there was some kind of storyline at work there, and the world changed, but they’ve at least done you the favor of not having a set of the same enemies regenerate every thirty seconds at common intersections you need to go through every ten minutes.
– the mechanic doesn’t degrade into “Stop the jeep, shoot everything, drive through carnage, stop…”

This all leads up to the wider problem, which ultimately contributes to the frustrating nature of Fallout 3 and why it fails to fulfill all its promise. If you decide to rampage through Paradise Falls killing slavers, you can entirely clean out the place and free the slaves. But the next time you come back, the slaves will still be there, asking you to free them and talking about how scared they are.

“You’re free!” you can tell them, and they’ll acknowledge that but not move. Or they’ll run around for a second and then stop.

The world goes the same way. You are in important ways reminded of things you do, which is satisfying. There’s progress within some particular places, where you’re regarded differently and relationships change depending on larger achievements. And Three Dog reports the news on what you’ve been up to, good or bad, at least until he glitches and goes back to reporting generic items again.

Paradise Falls isn’t torn down, or resettled by the slaves. If you resolve Arefu’s problems, Arefu doesn’t recover. Tenpenny Towers can potentially change permanently, and even if it’s because you screwed up, that’s a dramatic and satisfying event. But overall, there’s almost no indication that your actions affect the world by making the wasteland safer, or more dangerous, for the people in it. For me, this was a nagging problem with the game, where I felt all the freedom accorded me to run around and get into trouble and do good deeds none of it ever mattered to the world.

The point of playing video games (at least sometimes) is to be part of something beyond our everyday lives. To do epic, world-changing things. In a strict linear plot, this can be easily achieved: you start in location one, you win boss fight one, now you’re in location two with slightly raised stakes… I think of Final Fantasy VII here as a great example: it’s almost a rail shooter for a while it’s so linear, then the plot goes one direction towards the ending. But when you’re let loose to go run wherever you want, you’ve been part of some serious world-changing events that you can see the aftermath of.

I might have been okay with Fallout 3’s failure there if the climax hadn’t been the greatest example of that possible. It’s the small issues written large, taking over the game entirely and making the ending unsatisfying. Say that you crank up the water purification project after rescuing it, at the cost of your own life. What happens?

No idea. We don’t know. Presumably the wasteland turns into a land of milk and honey or something. But I have no idea, and as a result completing the game is a meaningless trophy. Does the final sacrifice make the difference that all your actions can’t? You’d like to think so… but why? Why would you have any confidence that it would, given that all of your in-game actions up to that point generally do nothing to affect the world?

Fallout 3 is a victim of its own ambition here, and I don’t want to run it down needlessly (though clearly that’s not stopping me). But this is a great example of how the desire to grant the player freedom of action without also implementing consequences devalues that freedom and ultimately makes the game’s conclusion less satisfying.

(spoilers!)

The problem with any game that attempts a morality system is that (as I discussed yesterday) the imposition will break down for any player. But there’s another and separate issue: you’re limited in the game to actions the game designers have implemented.

I’ll call this the Amata Problem. At the start of the game, your dad’s escaped the vault, things are falling apart, and there’s the Vault 101 Overseer’s daughter talking to you. Now, a pragmatic solution here would be to take her hostage and use her as a shield to keep the guards from shooting at you, and make your exit as well.

Would that be a good or an evil choice? (Probably evil). But it doesn’t matter — you can’t do it. It’s not an option.

But in making your escape, you’re provided with a choice to help rescue some jerk’s mom. Despite fleeing for your life, stopping is the “good” choice. In the player’s view, we’re reasonable assured that there won’t be consequences for taking a minute out of the game time, but that’s unrealistic. There’s no cost to this game choice, but it’s a small morality decision.

The contrast is striking. Faced with an ambiguous, wide-open situation, your options are extremely limited, and you’re not allowed to make creative or morally interesting choices. Faced with a costless threat, you’re given a clear choice with correspondingly clear consequence. (Now, if the decision to divert and save some random character created a real difficulty, that’d be worth rewarding… but anyway)

And that’s just the start. Your choices at the start of the game are limited to those the game provides. You can’t take over the vault. When you encounter the Overseerer, you can’t take *him* hostage, or take another dozen or so solution paths that probably occur to a player.

This happens over and over again. Once a character is concerned about doing good, or evil, or being neutral, they’re going to think of ways to do that that make sense to them but aren’t allowed in the game world. The more the player is invested in their character and the more creative they become, the more frustrating the lack of options will become.

Which isn’t to say that the game doesn’t provide options, but like every game that tries to implement this kind of thing, it essentially narrows it down to a couple of paths it can handle:
– shoot everyone
– side with team A
– side with team B
– negotiate a compromise

Each path has certain conditions associated with it, and rewards. It’s to reduce the complexity of the game, and I understand its necessity in terms of development and testing.

But I also understand that in any sufficiently open system there will be ways to resolve the situation that don’t meet all the criteria for any solution, and so you’ll be left in a strange state: either the problem will stick unresolved, or you’ll have to pursue a game-sanctioned option (which may be impossible at that point). And sometimes, it’ll just glitch and jump through.

For instance, I solved the Tenpenny Towers/Ghoul dispute in a way that didn’t require anyone to get shot and seemed peaceful enough. But the game for some reason didn’t like that, and I didn’t get any reward for resolving it and from then on it treated it as if I’d shot the place up, despite finding a peaceful solution.

That sucks. And if you think about it, almost every reasonably complicated situation in the game has a couple of ways to solve it that aren’t contained in the design document. This whole thing then reduces every situation not to “how can I resolve it?” but to “how do the people who designed this want me to resolve it?”

It breaks immersion. And for a game world as wide, detailed, and intricate as Fallout 3, taking the player back out is a tragedy.

Spoilers ahead.

Fallout 3 attempts to implement a morality system that ultimately fails to provide satisfying gameplay and in many ways undermines the game’s freedom in a frustrating way.

For instance: every action can be neutral, bad, or good. Stealing is bad. Killing people can be good or bad.

Let’s say I head to Paradise Falls, with an aim to wipe out the slaver camp. This is a weakness of mine in role-playing games: I will go out of my way at the first mention of slavery in a game like this, find where they are, and kill everyone involved before I go any further. I (personally) consider slavery humanity’s cancer, to the point where I’m unwilling to play evil characters in some cases. Anyway.

I go to Paradise Falls and start shooting up the place. Wheee! When certain slavers are killed, I receive good karma. Yay! I can loot their bodies for their weapons and ammo, no problem. When slaves attack me, which poses a creepy moral dilemma, the game is neutral on killing them in self-defense. But if I look at (say) the boss slaver’s stuff, it’s red — stealing. If I steal his stuff, it’s a bad thing.

What? It’s a net positive to go in and slaughter everyone involved with the operation. I’m encouraged, as a good character, to turn slavers into corpses and ruffle through their personal effects. But cracking open a locker is bad?

Similarly, there are stretches of the game where the game’s morality determines what a good character should do. For instance, you’re sent to go find a kid. You find the kid’s disappeared from a village, and you go to find him. You may, in trying to hunt him down, find where he is and be denied entry. Forcing or sneaking in can turn the people there hostile and spark a fight. And then you’re shooting up people trying to prevent you from rescuing a kid, and when you start popping them, you accumulate negative karma.

Which, if you’re trying to play good, will probably cause you to think back through the story and maybe even reload from a previous save and try it again. If they’re good, why can’t I see the kid?

The game, by giving you clues about what it considers good and bad, forces your character to take a certain course of action even though that path can seem illogical for a character making decisions that seem good or bad at the time. Poor scenario design is bailed out in a way by the overbearing red/green morality markers.

There are two things that go wrong here: if every situation has a good and a bad karma outcome and you get feedback immediately when you make a decision, you’re being tipped off to the game designer’s opinion of your actions. As a result, you can’t go down ambiguous paths without knowing what’s happening right there. If I had carved through the settlement to rescue the kid and then realized I’d done something horrible, that’d be a great moment in mindfuck gaming. I would have played the rest of the game more considerately, doing more investigation in each situation.

Instead, I shot up the place, furrowed my brow with every cue that the game considered what I was doing wrong, then loaded from a previous save. The next time I spent a long time to figure out how I make friends and influence people for fun and profit.

Here’s the kicker, though — the people I shot up were the Family, who
a) liked to shoot up and generally harass an innocent settlement
b) were cannibals. Reformed, sort of, in the Terry Pratchett Discworld Vampire Temperence League way, but cannibals.

Throughout the game, if you defend innocents from attack, it’s a good thing (or at least, non-penalized). But given a chance to go end a specific group threatening someone, that’s evil. Why?

Or to return to the slavers: the game clearly endorses murdering evil people as evil. Killing bad people is a greater good than the toleration of their human trafficking. That’s an ambiguous moral situation where the game’s karma system makes a clear determination of which choice a good person would take.

And to some extent, rewarding individual actions results in deeply unsatisfying conclusions. Early in the game, you can nuke a town for fun and profit. This results in a huge amount of negative karma. In various game locations, there are people desperate for purified water, which you can give them for a small amount of positive karma. Then they want more, and you can collect the reward again. You can eventually balance out and overcome using a nuclear weapon on a settlement for money by handing out bottles of water.

That’s lame. Your reputation should be forever stained. There’s no going back from that. No one’s going to think “that guy killed a couple dozen people in one of the only established holdouts of civilization to make a buck, but that’s okay because he’s sure generous with the purified water!”

It’s tough to fault the game in some ways: any implementable system that tries to track good and evil which also presents a plot of any complexity is going to get people like me arguing relative morality, or utilitarianism, or universal non-violence, or something that views game decisions differently or otherwise breaks morality. It doesn’t seem right that the game would reward a player for *not* killing evil people (1 point for every 10m of game time without shooting at anyone!), and at the same time, the system does explicitly endorse that some people need killing.

The natural solution seems to be to remove universal morality and instead let the game world react. You might have good reasons for killing civilians (say, you think you can put their guns to better use than they can). But the world’s going to react badly. If you shot up a community of cannibals, the town they were threatening might be happy, while wider opinion could be divided. And so on. In a way, this is where a limited open world like the Grand Theft Auto games succeeds where Fallout 3 disappoints. God doesn’t award you points for being a taxi driver, and doesn’t hand out demerits for carjacking. But people around you when you do these things will react realistically.

It’s an interesting design choice then to implement a universal morality scale that introduces all of these problems. It posits that there is right/wrong, that a higher power (in-game, the designers) can determine the rightness or wrongness of actions, and that power will reward or punish players based on their actions and cue them which is which as they confront their choices. In so doing, it puts the people who came up with the system in the place of god, arbiter of morality, robbing the player of free will and the ability to stumble and fall in a game largely based on freedom.

I sold a short story to Asimov’s this week. I’m super-excited.

Reading through an October Jane’s Defense Weekly, I came across a story (“Tanks on pirated ship were bound for southern Sudan, says source” 22 Oct 2008, p25). The Faina story is ongoing and getting a little coverage as part of the larger Somali piracy issues. This story focused on how the tanks were bound for southern Sudan, the third of three shipments, and who’s denying what about where they were headed and how.

The shipment included “ammunition, rocket-propelled grenade launchers and other weaponry”.

So a couple of Somali pirates took over this ship (which they still hold as I write this) and are now in possession of a tank force superior to South Africa’s (who have ~40 active and outdated main battle tanks). If they’d taken the ship, run it aground, found some former Soviet army conscripts to man them, they’d be a third-tier military force on the continent (compared to Egypt and then Libya-level) (Libya has ~85 T-72s running). They’d be able to run amok shooting up everything they wanted (until presumably the Fifth Fleet sends some planes after them).

Army in an unguarded box.

Side note: what in the world is Egypt (or really, anyone) doing with M1 tanks? Does Sauron sell copies of the one ring to anyone who comes by?

I roll the dice on too much new music. I find myself on the bus frowning at my ipod, wondering how some of those bands got on there because I just can’t keep track of it all. I take flyers on all kinds of stuff I can find on emusic and wherever. I keep at it because sometimes, I find just ridiculously awesome stuff, like this. I’m loving Marnie Sterns. I couldn’t even tell you why. The guitar shredding, the crazy complicated songs, her strange, high, enthusiastic vocals… the lyrics, where they’re even comprehensible, are cool, too…

It’s titled “This Is It and I Am It and You Are It and So Is That and He Is It and She Is It and It Is It and That Is That” which is highly annoying. I know. I forgave it.

Anyway. Go sample a couple of songs (seriously, just the first 30s of track one is a really bad indicator… try 2, “Transformer” or 3 or 4…). If I get anyone to listen to this and dig it as much as I do, I’ll have done a good deed for the day/month/whatever.

I spent part of this weekend finishing up a presentation I’m giving to a new dev team about what a program manager does at Expedia, and how we work with the developers in particular. And I spent some time looking through my schedule at what I was doing, where my time was actually going, and what I really liked about my job.

Expedia shuts down when we do major releases (this is bad, yes, and also outside the scope here). We run a series of shifts on release nights: the A shift runs from before we start to roll servers out of rotation and ends at about seven in the morning, while B comes in at six (and C, about ten hours later, and so on). There’s an all-Expedia crew steering the ship, and then every team has its own mini-team (so there’s an overall release PM, tester, dev, as well as EU PM/test/dev).

It’s really nasty work. It’s bug investigation on extremely tight deadlines, it’s figuring out if the Dutch site is supposed to have insurance in the package path by default or not while the Dutch site is down… and with any roll-out the size of the Expedia code base, on a server farm the size of Expedia’s, strange things can happen where one server in the French cluster decides to serve bad pages one out of ten times.. and someone has to track that down.

You’d expect anyone with any sense would duck this — it’s so ugly, and all you get is comp time, so it’s entirely reasonable to think that everyone with an ounce of sense would sluff it off on the newbies, and as much as managers would like to have their best there, they can’t draft people.

No. Program managers who have projects in the release want to be around to troubleshoot and see their work go live, which means that the PMs on A/B are disproportionately PMs who regularly ship things, which somehow selects for an outstanding section of the PM corps. And the same’s true of the dev and test organizations.

On release morning, there’s a triage meeting where all the open bugs on the release are reviewed when both A and B shifts are there. It’s traditionally in a too-small room, with all of the finest people who sign up for those two worst duty shifts packed in, standing and sitting everywhere. The A-shift people are about to fall asleep on their feet and look disheveled, and the B-shift are smiling and eager, on their first cup of coffee, freshly-showered, often in clothes too casual for normal work days. Almost everyone knows everyone, and as the group goes through the bugs, teams doing badly have crap flipped at them by people they’ve worked with for years, and after they’re done, they’ll volunteer to help out.

I love that meeting. I love the camaraderie, the gallows humor, seeing everyone together with a single shared purpose, the constant pacing of release management as we go down the list of everything wrong in our world.

“Bug 77884, EU, French hotel path failing, what’s going on with that?”
“Ops didn’t copy all our files over to EU-FRA-06, we’re pulling it from rotation so you can do replication again.”
Much booing.
“Sorry about that. Bug 77886, APAC…”

That meeting is the heart of Expedia. The people who can’t stop going putting their hands up for the A/B shift after a couple years, who are shipping something each time there’s a release window, the senior individual contributors who want to read through error logs at 4am on a Friday because bookings are dropping… those are the people who make shit happen.

I love them. I love being one of them.