All posts by Paul Raven

Meatspace Farmville

The socnetting/gamification of everything seems to be picking up pace. How’d you fancy playing Farmville with a real working farm?

The MyFarm experiment hands over power at the National Trust’s 2,500-acre Wimpole Estate farm in Cambridgeshire, UK. Up to 10,000 farming novices will choose which bull to buy, which crop to plant and whether to spilt fields to resurrect lost hedgerows.

“I will put in here whatever the online farmers want to grow,” said Richard Morris, Wimpole’s manager, standing on the edge of Pond Field, currently green with grass and clover rippling in the wind. “Farming is always a compromise – there is never a right or a wrong answer. If I choose one thing, my neighbour will be leaning over the fence shaking his head.”

Wisely (or perhaps disappointingly, depending on how you view the necessity of learning from stupid mistakes), it’s not a completely open system:

“The online farmers will not be able to choose to grow cannabis or bananas, but undoubtedly there will be some strange decisions, some decisions I would not have made.”

[…]

Morris says all major decisions will be put to the MyFarm users.

There will be one big vote each month, but these could trigger more frequent votes. In Pond Field, for example, if wheat is chosen, should it be bread-making wheat or biscuit wheat? “I am making decisions every day,” he says. “The first thing I do after getting up is look at the weather out of the window, and that sets the day going.”

Right now, with 300 new lambs delivered and scampering in the fields, Morris is bringing in grass to make silage for next winter’s feed. But the dry weather has left the fields short of grass, so the young cattle are being left in the barns for a while, to make sure the sheep have enough.

In the future, Morris says, there will be a smartphone app which will allow him to get near instant decisions from the online farmers. “For example, if I have wheat in the field, ripe and ready, but rain in the morning means it is damp, do we risk waiting and losing some of the crop, or combining [harvesting] it now and incurring some extra drying costs?”

I remember how SimCity and Railroad Tycoon got me interested in economic systems (although, as our very own Jonathan McCalmont has pointed out, the systems they portray don’t reflect reality in an entirely accurate way), so there’s little doubt that gamification can educate and fascinate… but I suspect the slow pay-off aspect of real agriculture will provide insufficient rewards for the sort of folk who get a kick from Farmville. Even so, I’m encouraged by the possibilities for engagement with reality that these sorts of initiatives are moving toward; regular readers will know that I believe we need to become more actively involved with the systems that support our existence, and while MyFarm is a very basic implementation of that idea, it’s a step in the right direction.

Please mind the gag

Continuing my fascination with the non-destructive redecoration of urban public spaces, here’s something very Brit-centric – indeed, very London-centric, though I expect similar culturehacks would (and probably already do) take place in other metropoli. Stickers On The Central Line does what it says on the tin, using the familiar names and iconography of tube maps to poke fun at topical issues [via Duncan Geere]. Some of the gags may be a bit too Brit for non-citizens to grok, but some of them are pretty universal:

Central Line tube map sticker hack

I’m going to be heading to London a lot more frequently in the near future, so I’ll be keeping an eye out for these. If anyone knows of similar satires in other cities around the world, please pipe up in the comments! Might be fun to do a compilation post…

Back in black

The UK’s bumper-bank-holiday fortnight is over, and I have access to a stable internet connection once again… which means it’s time to warm over the engines here at Futurismic and get back into the groove of talking about interesting stuff I found on the intertubes. Doing so will involve scaling the Brobdingnagian RSS mountain that lurks in my Reader account, of course; that alarming but cheery “1000+ items!” message suggests that that declaring inbox bankruptcy on all but the last few days is probably the only sensible way to deal with the problem.

And of course, the big story of the last few days is pretty inescapable. So you can read my thoughts about the assassination of Osama bin Laden over at Velcro City Tourist Board, should you wish to. Shorter version: not sad he’s dead, but pretty sickened by the glorying in his death; close with Nietzsche quote about being careful not to become that which you would destroy.

Additional: I somehow managed to squeeze writing a piece on the Arthur C Clarke Award for New Scientist into the mad churn of last week; I dare say those of you with an interest in the Clarke have already heard about it (a long-odds win for Lauren Beukes with Zoo City from the excellent Angry Robot imprint), but a chance to crow about writing for an organ I’ve been reading since I was a teenager was just too good to pass up, y’know? πŸ™‚

Normal programming (for values of “normal” based on a highly localised dataset) will be resumed imminently; thanks for your patience.

Cycling the lights, twitching the curtains

Hey, folks; just a quick note to say that the move went pretty well, all told, and that I’m now safely back on the south coast of the Disunited Kingdom.

Thanks to the convergence of a big batch of public holidays and a spate of ludicrously clement weather (plus a first few shifts at my new summer job), I have yet to get back into the swing of my accustomed work routines… and given that I’m up the line in London tomorrow and Thursday (for the Arthur C Clarke Award ceremony, among other things), and that some aristocratic nuptials will be distracting a significant portion of the world on Friday, and that Friday also marks the day that a stable internet connection that I don’t have to pay for by the hour will be turning up in the house where I’m currently staying… well, let’s just say that I’m not going to be doing much here at Futurismic until next week, at which point normal service (such as it ever is around here) will be resumed.

Thanks for your patience, and hope all is well with you all. πŸ™‚

Dropping the shutters

OK, as some of you may already know, yours truly is about to go through the whole “moving house” nightmare again; in the next few days I’ll be decamping from the metaphorical banks of the Styx and crossing the 250-odd miles back to the south coast, and my old stamping grounds of Velcro City.

Regrettably – no thanks to the general uselessness of estate agents – I don’t actually have a new home to move into, so I’m going to be sofasurfing and prevailing upon the hospitality of friends until a more permanent abode becomes available. As such, the next seven days will see me largely detached from the internet’s life-giving (or is it life-draining?) flood of bits and bytes, and the few weeks immediately following may well be defined by limited access to such.

The TL;DR version: I ain’t gonna be blogging over the next week, and things will probably be slow to restart immediately after that.

I hope you’ll bear with me during this transitional period… and indeed the year ahead, which is shaping up to be full of interesting and exciting changes in my life. As a taster of such, perhaps you’d like to pop over to New Scientist‘s Culture Lab blog and read a write-up of the Transcendent Man discussion panel I went to last weekend, which has been penned by some bloke with a by-line that should be familiar to you? πŸ˜‰

Thanks for your patience, and your continued readership; we’ll be back to broadcast-as-usual as soon as circumstances permit. πŸ™‚