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Pop CultureMay 19, 2017

Magnify VR/AR: Hooked into the machine

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Techweek! Demos, prototypes, presentations, discussions, and keynotes, all radiant with the reflected glow of futurist optimism. Tof Eklund got steeped in digital dreams last week, spending Sunday afternoon at the Magnify VR/AR Expo, and the next day at the subsequent Business Summit.

The atmosphere at the Expo was carnivalesque, as techies, gamers, entire families, and packs of pre-teens wandered around in a small space that opened up Tardis-like into a number of small virtual spaces. It was a profusion of delusions: people attempting to catch virtual fish barehanded, pretending to ride a minecart and actually falling, finding themselves in a house on fire, racing cars, shooting guns, and imagining what it would be like to walk around with pipes and underground power lines superimposed on one’s field of vision.

It probably says something deeply disappointing about me that I found Augview, the “look before you dig” AR app, to be the most exciting thing in the Expo, even though it was the only thing not actually being demonstrated. I read the standee carefully and stood on the “cutaway view of the water main under your lawn” applique, staring down at printed pipes in sheer wonder. In my defence, you never know what you’ll find if you dig deeply and greedily enough. I’ve tried and failed to play Dwarf Fortress, I know what’s up, er, down.

That’s not to say that the other exhibits were lacking. I tried the VR minecart ride and chose to stand rather than take the proffered seat. With the headset on, I experienced G-forces that were not there, and instinctively leaned into the curves. Sure enough, I almost fell forward onto my face. Score: virtual reality one, inner ear zero.

I had a more, ahem, pacific experience with Dr. Taehyun Rhee’s video/CG hybrid scuba diving simulator. This “mixed reality” experience inserted interactive CG fish into a 360 degree video of an actual dive off of a coral reef. It was an impressive proof of concept based on software that matches the lighting of the virtual fishies to that of the reef, so they look like plausible elements of the scene rather than stickers pasted to a window.

Shortly before falling over. ‘In cyberspace, no one see you look like a dweeb’. Image: Tof Eklund.

If the most exciting thing at the expo for me was Augview, the most impressive thing was Escape My House, a fire safety VR experience that you should have heard of by now. Leaving behind the thousand dollar-plus headsets, I played the Fire Service’s game on a smartphone in a cardboard frame. Backed by only a fraction of the processing power, Escape My House never “fooled” me into falling on my keister, but it did provide a compelling vision of what being in a house as it is actually burning down could be like, and succeeded brilliantly in its primary goal of getting me to see the value of developing an escape plan before leaving my clothes to dry next to a roaring fire.

The excellent use the Fire Service made of VR, and the focus on accessibility that makes Escape My House available to nearly everyone – that’s how you know that VR matters. Much like Augview actually using AR to do something worthwhile that we couldn’t do before, it’s all about what you can do with the technology, not the tech itself, at least in my book.

I didn’t carve out time to play the VR arcade games at ten dollars a pop, and that may have been a shame, as the one place where we know exactly how to use computationally-demanding VR to good effect is with short-form videogames, where focused game design and the brevity of the experience minimize the risk of VR sickness. I’ll get my chance, though, as the commercially-produced arcade machines were from Virtual Reality New Zealand, and they just opened up shop in Newmarket.

There were far fewer children at Monday’s Business Summit, and much more speculation. I wouldn’t call it overheated, but it should come as no surprise that the speakers were bullish on the potential of next-generation technologies. Hollywood entertainment types predominated among the keynotes, but there were some significant Kiwi creators and futurists as well.

I was left slack-jawed by Barry Sandrew, formerly of Legend Film, when he drew a hard distinction between storytelling and video games, and said that games weren’t for “the mass audience”. To be fair, he wasn’t there to talk about games, and it’s petty of me to hold his involvement with computer-aided colorisation of black and white films against him… seriously, though, leave the classics alone. George Lucas, I’m looking at you: I want the original cuts of the original Star Wars movies back, now.

Sandrew made some very valid points about how to make good use of technology, as when he discussed Ridley Scott’s reaction to a scene from his Robin Hood converted into 3D. Scott’s take was that it ruined the composition of the scene, not because 3D is a bad idea, but because the film was shot for traditional projection.

This play back and forth between excitement and restraint characterized many of the talks: speaking about the future of VR/ HP’s Madhu Athreya spoke hopefully about Moore’s law making VR more affordable, but also about plans to expand resolution and viewing angle in VR dramatically beyond the projected increase in processor power. Entirely new technologies will be required to make those leaps at any price, let alone affordably for the average person.

The most ambitious and, in my personal opinion, impractical pitch came from Richard Taylor II. Eymerce is a 360 degree wraparound cinema that will only require 3D movie polarized glasses, not a VR headset, to created a virtual environment. He envisions this as a new way to watch feature-length movies and interactive features with groups of friends, first in Eymerce theatres and then in a home theatre format.

The problem is that even the prototype they’re working on will require a 14 foot (4.27 meter) high curved LED screen that created a complete cylinder around a space 20 feet (6.1 meters) across. I assume part of the cylinder swings away so you can get in and out without a crane, but a 27” LED computer monitor will run you at least $300 at Harvey Norman (on sale), and this “small” Eyemerce is over 400 times that size, plus the much greater cost of creating a curved screen, plus the amount of space taken up for a theatre that can only accommodate relatively small audiences and the challenges posed by getting in and out of a cylinder… yeah, I’m not getting one for my two-bedroom apartment.

Geo AR Games is doing something ambitious but more practical: they’re putting dinosaurs in your neighborhood park. Magical Park is a mobile AR app that adds virtual creatures and events to your local playground or what have you. The content is tailored to each participating public space, so it will work with the existing landscape, and not send junior running headfirst into a tree or out into the street. The app’s free with no ads or upsell because they’re pitching Magical Park to your local council as a public good that adds value to parks and encourages children to play outside. I rather like this idea, but I’m a bit leery of letting my six-year-old run around while holding a iPad in front of his face.

Craig Pearce from the Fire Service spoke about how they actually burned down a house to create their VR game, about the importance of making the game as accessible as possible, and how it’s been a big hit with the generally skeptical secondary school set. NZME is looking into VR and AR content, Staples VR is a developing new cameras to meet demand for 360 video production, and Peter Busch of Image Metrics made the astute observation that you know you’ve successfully crossed the uncanny valley when no-one says anything about how real your work looks.

At the end of the day, I caught up with PikPok Games’ Mario Wynands and the conversation turned to the limitations of VR. The extreme immediacy that is VR’s greatest strength is also its greatest flaw, in his opinion. People with vertigo get dizzy when exposed to VR heights, and he shared with me his own experience of being viscerally uncomfortable around a dog-like pet dragon in a VR game, when no other game has ever triggered his fear of dogs.

There’s also the inner ear problem: VR sickness has a lot to do with the disjunction between getting a compelling audio-visual impression of movement while the inner ear keeps insisting “but we’re not moving”. Free motion in a virtual space (using a controller) is especially nausea-inducing, thus the minecart ride and auto racing VR games. It seemed to me that this was the elephant in the room at Magnify – that we need to be able to fool the inner ear to reach virtual reality’s full potential, but no-one’s even willing to spitball about what that might look like.

For my part, after all these excursions to pocket-sized virtual worlds and intrusions of virtual constructs into my world, I was happy to return to working on a flat screen for now, where nothing is going to come flying at me from the corner of my vision, even if it means that I can’t see the aging sewer system under my feet. The virtual and augmented future is here, it’s bright, but is it now? I expect to see a deluge of virtual, augmented, and mixed-reality content on all platforms over the next few years, much of it god-awful (try searching Steam for VR games right now, you’ll see what I mean). However, some of it – the things that have a need for this emerging tech, and that have the sense to stay at least a hairsbreadth back from the cutting edge – will be incredible.


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Pop CultureMay 19, 2017

David Farrier remembers Chris Cornell

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Chris Cornell died this week. David Farrier writes about what Cornell’s music meant to him, and the day he met his hero.

I hadn’t had wifi or cell reception because I was deep inside a weird forest in Japan, but when I switched my phone back on, it was to a flood of messages about Chris Cornell passing away. My friends knew how I felt about the guy and his musical output. When given the opportunity, I won’t shut up about him.

One of those messages was from my friend Grant Findlay. “No words man.”

Grant and I had shot an interview with Chris in Los Angeles years ago, before Soundgarden had even reformed. What struck me about meeting Chris – this hero of mine – was not only how humble and open he was, but the fact he’d driven to our hotel on a weekend.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZALgc-xbFM

He had a million other things he could have been doing, but he came to us. The only other musician who’d ever done this in my eight years as an arts reporter was Chino from Deftones. There was no junket hotel, no label people – just a musician driving out of their way to meet some idiot from a TV station in tiny New Zealand. Why he did, I’ll never know, but I think it was because he was kind.

Grant summed the day up: “This was truly a great day man. And I feel absolutely privileged to have shared this half hour with you.”

It seems so trivial to me in a way, me writing about Chris Cornell dying. “Oh look: a guy who met this guy one time, and now he’s making the story about him and that time he met him.” But that’s the thing that a musician does, if they make good music – they become intimately entwined in a total stranger’s life and I think maybe it’s okay I write about him.

I have so many vivid, important memories attached to this man. My first concert when I moved to Auckland was seeing Audioslave at the Auckland town hall. It was a band of true rock stars – former members of Rage Against the Machine teaming up with a new vocalist for a truly bizarre new band. It wasn’t a side project, this thing was giant.

‘Cochise’, their debut video, was directed by music video giant Mark Romanek, and saw a frosted-tips Chris and the band parading around on a roof, fireworks exploding in the background. It was ridiculous, it was huge. The concert was the same. It remains one of my most vivid concert memories, a pang of positivity in a city and time in my life that was, at the time, terrifying for me.

I met my friend Rima Te Wiata for the very first time at a Soundgarden concert. It was a Big Day Out, and I found this wonderful woman who was as captivated by Chris as I was. She analysed his lyrics and his life, bursting with joy she was about to see his band perform. She had an old-school tape recorder, one that took a physical tape – and she waded into the crowd to bootleg the concert. We took turns holding that tape deck in the air, capturing the show in all its aural glory.

More recently, I snuck out of my own housewarming party to see Chris perform an acoustic set at the Aotea Centre. I desperately wanted to hear him perform ‘Billie Jean’ (that near four-octave vocal range, man!), and I got to hear it that night.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92mNH6g1p34

Sneaking out of that house that night was the best thing I did all year. Chris reminded me all of his complex, wonderful forms over the years. He performed the theme he wrote for James Bond, he took us back through Soundgarden and Temple of the Dog (‘Call Me A Dog’ – my god, what a song!!!), his solo work on Euphoria Morning.

It’s that album I’ve had on repeat. He’s young and he has ridiculous facial hair, but I think it’s Chris at his most open and honest. It was a painful, sad record to listen to them, and it’s infinitely more so now.

And that record back in 1999 wasn’t meant to be called Euphoria Morning. It was meant to be called Euphoria Mourning, but his manager thought it might be too confusing. I’m glad Chris got to make that title change when it was reissued a few years ago. He said“It was a pretty dark album lyrically and pretty depressing, and I was going through a really difficult time in my life – my band wasn’t together anymore, my marriage was falling apart and I was dealing with it by drinking way too much, and that has its own problems, particularly with depression. So I titled the album Euphoria Mourning.”

That was back then, this is now though. His life seemed full, and good, and wonderful. To an outsider, there was no mourning. But that’s the thing, right? You never know. You never know.

It is not my place really to write about why Chris Cornell is no longer here. I think that maybe Frank Guan has captured some of my own feelings, but even this is lacking. Nothing really makes a death like this make sense. But we have to try, right?

“This kind of thinking has to happen, but it shouldn’t be the only way to read Cornell’s death. What made him a great vocalist, and Soundgarden a great band, wasn’t only technical accomplishment (though they certainly didn’t lack for that), but complexity. And Soundgarden’s greatness lay in its ability to convey not only bleakness and the will to death, but the dogged will to live that opposed it. Life isn’t death, but living and dying are, actually, the same process. Far from being a monument to despair and abjection, Soundgarden’s music plays out the struggle against them. Cornell was too honest to be merely sullen, and the voice with which he delivered his impressions, and the guitars and drums behind them, were too beautiful to simply amount to a document of doom. Heavy as death but dynamic as life, Soundgarden struck a balance between the two, and it was this realness that made their songs a resource for countless desperate individuals too smart to cheer up yet too strong to give in.”

I wish this hadn’t happened. I hate that you can’t know what is going on in someone else’s head. All you can do is try and be kind, always. Kind like Chris was kind, driving all the way across town to do an interview with some stupid sweaty kid from New Zealand.


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