Embody

"Embody"

By Madison Ellis

A group of amorphic alien anthropologists have studied humanity for millennia, but their observational research methods are no longer viable. In order to progress with their studies, the aliens need to create a flesh avatar capable of blending in perfectly with other humans. Here's the catch, though; if the avatar isn't just as neutral, unnoticed, and unjudged as the anthropologists, then it will be destroyed.

"Embody" is an exploration of physical identity; it relies on social and emotional constructs around body image to create the 'perfect' body for human interaction. As the game progresses, though, the player realizes that it is impossible to create this body. Every line, every curve, every ditch and divot in the human body comes with relational baggage. We are a judgement people, and our bodies hold an incredible amount of power over who the world sees us as.

The onset of new media has encouraged scholars to study the role of selective portrayal in personal identity. When discussing the duplicity of online and physical identity portrayals, Danah Boyd states: 

    "Unlike face-to-face settings in which people took their bodies for granted, people who went online     had to consciously create their digital presence. Media studies scholar Jenny Sundén describes this     process as people typing themselves into being. Although Turkle recognized that a person’s                 identity was always tethered to his or her psyche, she left room for arguments that suggested that         the internet could—and would—free people of the burdens of their “material”—or physically             embodied—identities, enabling them to become a better version of themselves." (Boyd, 37)

Today's digital age has encouraged people to cultivate their internal identities with a precision and intentionality unseen in the physical world, but what does that mean? Boyd describes an emancipation from physical bodies enabled by the text-based interfacing of social media sites. This emancipation, however, is an illusion. Humanity has not transitioned to purely digital interactions, which means that our uncontrollable physical forms hold as much power as our demonstrated internet identities. External appeal and internal construction still carry the same weight.

Just like digital representations of status updates, likes, reblogs, and visible friendships, physical bodies act as visual representations of assumed inner traits. Soft, feminine curves may indicate a caring or matronly nature, while tall, masculine thickness could typify assertiveness and success. People cannot control their bodies with the same ease that they control their online presence, however. They can alter it with expensive surgeries, crash diets, and mods, but ultimately someone's body will be theirs for their entire life. Structure, metabolism, aesthetics... those are pre-programmed into human DNA. Although we have the power to re-code our online selves, we haven't yet hacked our own physical makeup.

In addition to exploring the assumptions connected to various body types, "Embody" attempts to show how impossible it is to construct a 'perfect' body. No matter what form the player ends up creating, the alien Consul destroys it because it doesn't fit humanity's ambiguous, ever-changing ideal human form.

Human identity relies on a complicated mix of internal existences and external cues. While we have specific control over how we present our mental selves via social media or human interactions, we cannot change the identities inherent to our bodies. No matter how we may try, our bodies are the one area where we lack complete control. 

Treatment

Executive Summary:

Control your conscience in this 3d, hyper-realistic space room as you use psychological selection and manipulation to create a viable flesh avatar.

Overview

High Concept:

Imagine you are a floating speck of sentience. You’ve studied humanity for years, but now you want to walk among them. First, however, you need to build yourself a vehicle—a flesh avatar, if you will—that perfectly mimics the human form. Here’s the catch—since you have no physical self, you have to use your individual psychological prowess to manipulate the construction of your avatar, and your superiors will destroy any body they deem ‘unfit’ for use.

Genre:

3d, single-level, thought-provoking soft horror vibe. The world is cold, mechanical, and incredibly detailed to allow for a thorough immersion in gameplay.

Hooks:

· It’s pretty
· It’s creepy
· It’s interesting
· It explores physical ideals and their relation to social/personal judgment in the human world.

Gameplay Highlights:

· 3d hyperrealism for complete psychological immersion
· The initial levels is guided vaguely, but the player has more control of the game as the player builds their skill.
· Player can access surveillance files that log how their current avatar is doing on the physical plane, allowing the player to analyze the judgments made of the body type and the avatar’s interaction with normal humanity.
· Audio design subtly supports feeling of quiet unease.

Technology Highlights:

· “Embody” will be an online game

Art and Audio Highlights:

· The artwork will be done by a community of young, budding digital artists
· The soundtrack will come from online sources, with sound effects created specifically for the game.

Production Details

Current Status:

· Ideology still under development

Development Team:

· Video Game Director, Programmer, Animator, Illustrator

Schedule:

· Finish a beta version within a 4-month college semester.

Game World

Backstory:

· A small society of ambiguously aged balls of sentience has been studying humankind for ages. After their anthropological research hit a wall, they decided they could never fully understand humanity unless they physically (mentally, and emotionally) interacted with them. The game’s player is one of these balls of sentience.

Objective:

· The player, as a ball of sentience, must experiment creating different types of bodies to finally hone in on the aesthetic required in order to be an accepted human being.

Story Progression:

· The player begins as a floating ball of sentience. Through narration by another floating ball, we learn that the player has been selected to build flesh avatars for the floating balls to inhabit while they study humankind. The player must navigate body creation controls by selecting answers to personality questions. Once the player creates their avatar, the Consul of their superiors has the opportunity to accept or reject the design. Designs that don’t fit into a perfect, a-judgmental frame will be rejected. Due to the impossibility of judgment based off of physical attributes, the player will never be able to create the perfect avatar.

"By Any Media Necessary" -- Exploring Internet Activism and fannish politics.

Jenkins et. al "By Any Media Necessary" explores the shifting relationship between internet culture, politics, and youth activism. As a networked era pushes young people deeper into the internet world, the face of participatory politics changes significantly.

In the analysis of the Kony 2012 video phenomenon, Jenkins et al explore the conundrums evident in participatory politics. Created by an activist group called Invisible Children (hereafter referred to as IC), "Kony 2012" was created as a viral call to action intended for people already familiar with IC and their cause. Through the internet, "Kony 2012" reached an unpredictably vast amount of people. Far outside its intended audience, "Kony 2012" suffered a massive context collapse, and IC received scathing criticism from all sides. Based on the "Kony 2012" fiasco, Jenkins et al explore the resulting paradoxes or participatory culture.

One of the paradoxes is comprehensible vs. complex stories. IC was criticized for being too simplistic about the nuanced sociopolitical climate in Africa. The lack of complexity, however, is part of what made "Kony 2012" an internet sensation. The oversimplified narrative lead to less audience critical engagement, but it presented the story in a way that thousands of people could identify with. Instead of seeing a complex social issue, audiences saw a critical injustice that they could actively involve with.

People's understanding of the "Kony 2012" video may have incited interest in the cause, but it wasn't the only paradox present in IC's campaign. Jenkins et al also discuss the fight between activism vs. entertainment. As scores of people clicked "like" and shared the video on Facebook, the line between political participation and personal entertainment blurred. Were they sharing the video because they were passionate about the message and cause, or because they engaged emotionally with the video itself? Were they actually contributing to a cause, or engaging in simple "clicktivism" in order to assuage their consciences? "Kony 2012" acts as an example of society engaging with social issues because the presentation--not necessarily the issue itself--moved them to action.

The line between entertainment and politics has blurred even more since the "Kony 2012" incident. The most recent U.S. election was fraught with people watching presidential debates with popcorn in one hand and a phone to tweet from in the other. Social media sites flooded with humorous and emotional commentaries on caricatures of the presidential candidates. The sensationalized aspects of journalism, internet coverage, and social media involvement turned politics into a Bachelor-esque celebrity deathmatch, of sorts. My own experience with the election saw people backing out of mainstream political participation because the 'genre' of political entertainment disgusted them so thoroughly.

The entertainment-ification of politics is not, however, entirely a bad thing. Jenkins et al discuss the blossoming of fannish politics in today's participatory culture. In response to the disgust-inducing mainstream political rhetoric, youth have created groups like the Harry Potter Alliance (HPA) and Nerdfighters, through which they can engage with politics on their own terms and in their own genre. Jenkins et al outline a circuit model of engagement, which says that fannish political communities have shared values, a sense of affinity, knowledge and competencies, practices, identities, and discussions. This new mode of political participation shares a striking resemblance to political parties. Unlike traditional political involvement, however, Fannish involvement is free from the negative connotations and includes the unironic, selfless passion of the participants.

With the oversimplification, sensationalization, and genre-esque villainization of political candidates, it's no wonder that youth are looking for a more fulfilling way to engage with activism. The role of new media in this shift of participatory politics is vital. Social media disintegrate physical and economic barriers between people, allowing those with similar interests to find each other. Fan culture used to be confined to high school clubs and reading groups, but internet platforms joined individuals into large, mainstream "fandoms." These fandoms act as breeding grounds of passion and interpersonal connection, and they validate individual dedication for social ideals and previously niche political interests.

Whether youth involve thorough internet groups, the shared passions of fannish politics, or "clicktivism,"  new media has provided a breeding ground for new forms of political activism. Although subject to harsh criticism by analogue generations and a feared reception by political and anthropological scholars, those involved in internet activism are participating in politics the best way they know how.

Jenkins, Henry, Sangita Shresthova, Liana Gamber-Thompson, Neta Kligler-Vilenchik, and Arely M. 

    Zimmerman. By Any Media Necessary: The New Youth Activism. New York: New York UP, 

    2016. Print.

Identity: Why Do Teens Seem Strange Online?

My use of new/digital media just went through a massive shift of focus--as a teen, I used anonymous internet sites like Tumblr and AO3 to express parts of my personality I considered too intensely private for analogue interactions. In an attempt to express integral identity components without worrying about the reactions of my parents and/or peers, I poured my deepest secrets into the void of the internet. As I've matured, the barriers between my internet life and my real life have broken down considerably.

Sundén's exploration of the immaterial freedoms of internet rings true to me. I used the barrier between physical and digital to craft a psychological dumping ground for unspeakable and unresolved issues that I was able to eventually work through. My online identities weren't necessarily the catalyst for my developments, but they certainly provided a useful ground for trying out my private ideals. Now, my social media presence is an extension of my physical self. I participate in social media like Boyd's "bedroom culture." It is an expression of interests and opinions, and that's where the depth of my media presence stops. There is a certain amount of personal congruency at play with my social platform choice. Instead of hidden blogs and secret libraries, I actively use Facebook and Instagram. I no longer hide myself. I simply act online as I would in real life, posting the stuff I am comfortable sharing with the world, and reserving other content for the people who have earned the right to hear it.

C^3

Misbeliefs

There is something about the nature of childhood that lends itself to misconception. Children are free from the confines of social norms and common sense. Their brains and spirits are fresh--children absorb information at incredible speeds. No matter how quick they learn, though, children still make mistakes. They still misunderstand. They use their fertile imaginations to fill the gaps in knowledge that fact hasn't found yet. From that universal experience of confounded innocence, "Misbeliefs" was born. "Misbeliefs" is a collection of strange, funny, or downright ridiculous things people believed when they were kids.

Some experiences, at least in my Western experiential frame, relate on a universally personal level. Fran Krause's "Deep Dark Fears" Tumblr series and Eric Boyd's six word stories rely on the intrinsic relatability of user-compiled content for their popularity. These artists open inboxes for crowd submissions and generate poems and/or imagery based on the suggestions they receive from fans. With "Misbeliefs," I tried to hack into the relatability sector of internet art. I relied on my Facebook and Instagram community to gather ideas, and then compiled those ideas onto a Tumblr blog. My friends generated the content, and they reacted incredibly well to the result. The reception of "Misbeliefs," "Deep Dark Fears" and Eric Boyd's content has been astronomical; people like consuming content they initiate. People like when television writers listen to their ideas. People like when poets respond to their prompts. People love talking about themselves and their experiences, and they love the interrelational joy that community compiled content brings to their internet sessions.

We live in a social generation. Projects are almost expected to be entirely collaborative in today's new media world. Mass content sites like Tumblr and Buzzfeed have audience involvement--quizzes, polls, submission boxes, and personal messaging, to name a few. Any site that produces a high volume of good and/or relatable content is expected to interact with the audience on a near-intimate level. People love themselves and value their entertainment too highly to give crummy content. In internet society, audiences basically throw the content they want to see at the people who make money off of their entertainment.

"Misbeliefs" is a small-scale reflection of mass internet amusement. People close to me gave me their stories and enjoyed reading other people's submissions. Although not all the submissions were identical, they brought up the same feelings of humorous nostalgia in the entire audience.

"Becoming A Part of Something Bigger Than Ourselves"

Video game communities can be a valid source of interest-based connections, but I do think that McGonical's exploration of gaming sites as psychologically fulfilling communities is a little problematic. In my mind, the idea of community encompasses more than a shared interest in or appreciation of a game or art form--community goes deeper. Community can extend past game boundaries, fan boundaries, or physical boundaries into a world of expressed individuality and emotional support. Mcgonigal's article never addressed any aspect of the Halo community that goes beyond the game universe. The gamers have lore, they have tasks, they have a neat environment, and they have an overflow of game data, but they don't have anything else.

From my glancing experience with Halo, the gamers don't have much individual identity. Each person plays as a first person shooter who interacts with other gamers only through statistics. They don't actually play together, the community exist solely on a comparison basis and a sharing of game lore. Halo players may come together because of their shared Halo interest, but their community never extends the bounds of the game. It's almost like creating a community based on Tetris. There may be scores of people who enjoy playing it and appreciate the game's aesthetic, but the community remains entirely ungrounded in visceral, emotional, or social reality.

As someone who has never played Halo, I am not really qualified to speak on this subject. I do believe, however, that McGonigal's portrayal of the game as an epic community missed the mark a little bit. No matter how good game graphics are, no matter how involving the story, I don't think a true 'community' can exist if the game boundaries don't spill over into real life. McGonical states that being a part of the Halo community is "Becoming a part of something bigger than ourselves," but the individualistic interface and lack of social grounding categorize Halo's gameplay as a less massively epic, more personal media involvement.

Wholesome Gals

YouTube Sculpting

My project, entitled "Wholesome," is an exploration of YouTube-based depictions of what, exactly, "Wholesome" means to people. What began as a search for definition turned quickly into an analysis of wholesome femininity as portrayed through popular opinion. Popular opinion, in this case, is represented almost exclusively by male YouTubers. 

Working with community opinions and ideas means that content is restricted to what other people share with the world, and that shared content tends to come from  a vocal, media-savvy population subset. In the case of "Wholesome," the only information available on wholesome girls was posted by males.  The videos in "Wholesome" range from subtle--advertising tween underwear from 'noslutwear.com'-- and not-so-subtle--YouTuber nigahiga describing the modest dress and body standards required for a wholesome gal. Additional segments include a Julie Andrews "wholesome test," a strange cultish video about burning witches, and a drunken man stating he needs a loving girl, and an acerbic rap about public opinion of Miley Cyrus. The resulting conglomerate of videos describes the subjective, amorphous definition of wholesome femininity found online.

YouTube sculpting allows for a beautiful, subtle social commentary on prevalent issues. Since the content already comes from digital media, the integration of the issue in pop culture/opinion is irrefutable. There are, however, downsides to this brand of appropriation art: The message can be too subtle. The artist has no aesthetic control. Being pointed and/or concise is difficult. Appropriation art sacrifices a great deal of artistic constructivity, which proved a little difficult for me. Although I was able to create a project of sorts, "Wholesome" feels more like a supercut than video art or social critique. I found most of my meaning when I painstakingly cut the video together, and I'm afraid it doesn't quite make sense without an unreasonable level of engagement by the viewer. 

YouTube appropriation art is an extraordinary opportunity to work with community opinions and ideas. Content is entirely restricted to the videos that others share with the world and how the owners tag that media, and meaning is restricted to the author's ability to find cohesion in the conglomerate. This brand of appropriation art allows for realistic explorations of vocalized opinions and personal engagement with social issues, although it tips precariously close to mastercuts and compilations.

Avatar Activism: Utilizing Colloquial Canon

The incredible capitalistic power of Hollywood and other mass entertainment generators have punctured social, physical, and relational boundaries with its content. As a result, fan culture has become the world's new common mythology. Presented under a proper guise of apolitical fiction, each international film or book series holds a unique didactic power over the hearts of consumers. Instead of writing metaphors from classic literature, long-dead philosophers, and ancient political theorists, fan activists draw their inspiration from more colloquial, more accessible mediums of mass entertainment. This phenomenon has encouraged (with varying degrees of success) a shift in attitude toward political participation and involvement; instead of formal methods of engagement (like protesting as a human, or associated human identity), people can unironically participate as fantastical creatures fighting for an ideology portrayed in popular media. 

This fannish participation captures the public's attention and passion in a unique way; instead of attracting attention via communication of valid social concerns, fan activism's initial draw comes from the popular media it appropriates. The "Hunger is Not a Game" initiative serves as an example. This campaign was intended to encourage fans of Suzanne Collins's popular "Hunger Games" series to learn about and mobilize against world hunger. The initiative's graphics relied heavily on the pop-culture tie, drawing in people who were already involved with and/or passionate about Collins's franchise. 
The Avatar incident discussed in Jenkin's article relies on a similar issues engagement--people involved in the Bil'in situation drew ties with a contemporary social canon and drew the interest of a world similarly interested in Cameron's film. 

This fantastical approach to public action and discourse begs attention from every individual that engages with media. International entertainment or fan cultures may not inspire political action by themselves, but they do make those actions understandable and attractive to popular consumers.

Learning To Write: An Exploration of the Benefits of Digital Community Education

Traditional learning settings such as classrooms and job trainings allow students to learn constructive social interaction, fulfilling baseline work formats and standards, receiving a necessary (though often painful (I’m looking at you, memorization-based history courses)) rounded exposure to varied subject disciplines, and receiving standards-based feedback on performance. There are, however, a few all-important aspects that are almost entirely missing from (my) institutionalized learning engagement: unlimited interactions with internally legitimized teacher figures, access to large amounts of bizarrely specific niche-mates, and engagement with a more organic learning process.

In an almost subconscious search for supplemental learning engagements, my peers and I turned to forms of new media. One specific internet site provided me with the quintessential connected learning experience: AO3.com.

AO3.com is a fan-based community literature site that attracts every type of writer. From bored, vampire-obsessed 12-year-olds to published authors who like appropriating crime/drama characters in their free time, the website accepts anybody. Nobody wrote for profit. Nobody wrote for publication. AO3 is a vast digital gathering ground for self-motivated social artistry. And everybody has their niche. Where else am I going to find a larger group of people who’s as interested in moderately gay fanfiction about a teenage werewolf and his gangly human sidekick? Who else am I going to show my story about demon!sherlock to without intense fear of social rejection? Answer: nowhere.

The learning on AO3 is based on a unique, role-liquid student/teacher interface focused on improvement, encouragement, and the occasional humbling “your story gave me cancer” feedback. Everybody came to AO3 with common interests. Grammatical elements and writing proficiency often didn’t matter; instead, the community focused on emotional narrative, proper characterization, effective reflection on and/or misappropriation of the canon, and an accurate understanding of the target audience. Advanced-level writing concepts learned organically through community interactions on a grandly anonymous scale.

New media engagement fosters immersion with interests not accessible by traditional, analog means of connected learning. Although I had received formal writing training for years in school, I never truly developed a fictional voice until I found AO3 and related sites. Traditional education and new media connected learning buffered and built off of one another to round-off my education, to show me interesting ways to involve both critically and intuitively. Modern day learning is not complete without the benefits of new media community engagement.

Twine Poetry

interTwine'd

InterTwine'd is a Twine-based poem grappling with different forms of expression to process the complicated experience of memory repression. My own limited understanding of the Twine platform directed InterTwine'd's aesthetic into a very unique world; I could control pacing. The timing of the piece--the poetry breaks, the highlighted words, and the direction of the hyperlinks--created InterTwine'd's main aesthetic experience.

The poem starts faster; the frames are as glancing to the player as the thoughts are to the poem's consciousness. The content may be dark and somewhat disturbing, but the words aren't given any special attention. They exist in their own stilted reality. The player can read them in moments and move on to the next frame of the story without engaging, experiencing, or truly understanding their meaning.

And then the pacing changes.

The player gets stuck in a contemplation of the words "Repetitive growls." At first, the words seem as darkly inconsequential as the preceding phrases, and yet the consciousness sticks to it. Mulls on it. Warps it. Strips the words of the softness of vowels, leaving only cold percussive consonants.

The next frame is the largest block of text in the poem, with three potential links. Each link leads to a different surrealist representation of the female body. The player sits stuck in the frame until they have clicked all the options, forcing the player to engage with the information in the frame. and then all the options again. The second time around, the pictures are different. Warped. Inverted, blurred, made terrifying and indistinct. And yet the player is stuck with the images. with the text. with the memories made vibrant by a new air of violation. This pacing aesthetic forces the player to revisit unsettling imagery until the consciousness's memory has run its course, and an escape route presents itself.

And then the player faces Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory warping herself into a facsimile of normal. The piece returns to the glancing treatment of text, accompanied by a new blatantly modified copse of images. Shaking fragments of dream flicker over a visceral representation of more warped memories. A non-confrontational banana held gingerly in front of a woman's onesie. A pair of identical faces repeated but distorted. A woman's torso, arm, and leg thinned out. Wrong, somehow, with a clumsy black swipe across sexualizing features. Once more, the reader is stuck in contemplation. Coming out of the vortex of varied memories, the reader sees this one photo repeated. Again. And again. Replaced by black, and then disappeared all together.

In retrospect, I should have utilized Twine's hyperlink function more cohesively into the narrative. The process of memory suppression is complicated and cyclical enough to work well with complex hyperlink paths, but I didn't take advantage of that in the narrative. Additionally, Audio would have contributed to the piece more effectively than the pirated photos I used. My knowledge of photo imbedding outweighed my knowledge of audio integration, however, so I stuck with the photos. Using an unfamiliar medium to create an immersive user experience proved more difficult than imagined, but the pacing and visual aesthetic elements of Twine helped me translate my piece more effectively.

Gif Cinema

. . .

***

         Repetition: brushing teeth, combing hair, walking, eating, resting. Waking up. Falling asleep. Working. Life twists back on itself. Schedules and structures and circular moments make up our existence. Before we have a chance to recognize our reality, our body has aged and warped, while our mind floats in the circulature of existence. We are ageless in our repetitions.

        It’s a little strange, then, that I've ignored this repetition in my past narratives. Strict linear structures. Point A to Point B. People waiting for moments to irrevocably change their existence when, in reality, those quiet tooth-brushing wake-sleeping loops form the foundation of our lives. We are all part of an endless cycle of existence, but I generally choose to highlight life’s linearity.

        Making a story based strictly on loops and cycles was difficult. Everything sublime, in my mind, came from the integral changes I associated with linearity. People can’t change if they exist in a loop, and change is the foundation of good storytelling. Loops, however, are the foundation of good GIFs.

        So how do you rationalize the two? A looped structure and the idea of change? I didn't want to focus my narrative on day-to-day, but I wanted to do something cyclical. Something on a grander scale than brushing teeth, but something that still reflected mentality. A life/death, give/take that could be read forwards, backwards, or started at any time during the narrative. I don’t know if my gif cinema ultimately read that way, but that’s what I was going for.

Interactivity/immersion

In the beginning of Murray's chapter, she discusses the physical distance placed between ourselves and the encompassing worlds of media. Older media, such as books, theater, and television, rely on analog pages and sedentary interactions to keep the consumer grounded in the physical world. In the case of video games, however, the user physically interacts with and--to a varied, limited extent-- controls their environment. The player is more causally connected to the media's world, but the reality of the controllers, keyboards, and phone screens act as distancing artifacts. 

In my experience, I've had an easier time immersing myself in the more traditional forms of media: text, performance, and direction as forms of storytelling. In an almost counter-intuitive way, the worlds I engage fully with are not the worlds where I have the physical connection. Video games give me sentience in a narrative world, but they don't necessarily sweep me into that world. 

Interactivity and immersion seem to have an inverse relationship when it comes to narrative. The Prince of Persia movie immerses me much more than the Prince of Persia video game, despite my actual physical interaction with the video game.

When it comes to immersion in media, body mindfulness is the enemy. Anything that brings you out of your mind and into your body disrupts full psychological engagement with a story. Even virtual reality games, where the experience is supposed to be fully immersive, still encourage the inherent barrier of body mindfulness. No matter how realistic the VR skiing experience, computers can't recreate physical touch.

Books, movies, and theater, on the other hand, don't encourage body mindfulness. In fact, they discourage it. Movies and stage performances shut off surrounding lights and sounds, dumping a fully-formed, non-interactive story onto a stationary audience. Aside from occasionally turning a page, people sit still and absorb the narrative in a book. The sedentary consumption of old media forms enables consumers to detach from their bodily awareness and dive deeper into the media.

The "New Aesthetic"

Digital interpretations and manipulations of real-world imagery. Snapchat filters, for example. Our image is absorbed by a digital entity and displayed back with pre-programed tweaks and tricks. We read the imagery as us, but it still intrinsically carries the warped foreignality of digital medias. A program captures our image, our identity, as data and plays it back to us in novel ways. We recognize that the image isn't necessarily us, yet we still identify with it. On a more subtle level, we experience this digital aesthetic, this interactive phenomenon, with front-facing cameras. Selfie cameras warp our image instead of reflecting it. Whether it warps through specific intent--making our eyes slightly larger, for example-- or through user-friendly convenience--mirror-imaging our photo to better match our own perspective of self--the digital world leaves its own distinct interpretations on our reality.

We also have real-world manipulations of digital interactions. Heat signature cars emitted from tanks. Marine camouflage meant to confuse both humans and machines. Alternatively, however, this same aesthetic exists as an enunciation of digital properties. "Pixelated" buildings or public art pieces fit into this category as well. In our interactions with digital media and a digital world, we have developed an aesthetic comprised of ways to trick and/or embrace the other party.

Colloquialized digital manipulations exist, for example, as masks. Martin Backes created a pixelated street mask that, although giving the impression of a digital face to normal humans, fools facial recognition software. People read the mask as a digital interpretation of reality, while actual digital software cannot interact with it as intended. Snapchat filters cannot recognize Backes's mask as human enough to manipulate, while real people see the mask as a reflection of low-res or problematic coding. Backes's mask employs the new aesthetic to float in a digital/reality middle-ground, disconnected from humanity, disconnected from new medias, all while existing as a product of both.