Not too long ago, the Internet went nuts over Roger Ebert’s contention that not only were computer games not art, but that they never could be.  The subject is well worn, and most of you are probably tired of it – having heard all the arguments from every side that you think you’re ever likely to hear.  What many don’t probably realise is that the discussion itself has damaged the prospects for the evolution of artistic gaming experiences.  We’re all so busy arguing with one another over what art is that we have ironically removed ourselves from discussions of the techniques required to produce art.

The problem essentially stems from the fact that the  ’identity’ question of what art is – is largely conducted in metaphysical terms – whereas discussions about technique generally require no such metaphysical stance.  What we end up with is a community whose technical appreciation of artistic form is so poor that it makes the production of high quality artistic works in the gaming medium extremely unlikely.  This is unfortunate, because there is nothing in the medium itself which should prevent this.

So I’m going to revisit this question and hopefully set the discussion back on toward a better foundation.  Ultimately we need to learn how to talk about the question in a different way from what our cultural leaders have offered us.  When you focus on technique, the metaphysical questions settles itself – if it is something that is even capable of being settled.

The moral of the story will be:  disregard metaphysics – acquire technique.

 

The Metaphysics of Art

You know when you’re heading directly toward a metaphysical discussion of the nature of art when people start rolling out their definitions, and you start rolling out your own.  Perhaps you provide some kind of quintessential feature, or perhaps instead you offer a set of necessary and sufficient conditions.  Depending on your bias, you go forth to point out how a particular example succeeds/fails to embody said quintessential feature.  Your opponents enter the battle with a different conception of art in mind, and before you know it you’re no longer even discussing the original question while sinking deeper into a quagmire of definitions.

As philosophers have long known, a priori conceptual analysis is tricky business at the best of times.  We could be discussing the nature of lemons  - an object in the real world that provides an independent constraint on our conceptual apparatus.  We naturally think lemons to be oblong, yellow, sour citrus fruit that grow on trees.  But what if the world changed tomorrow and all the lemons became perfectly spherical.  What if they became sweet?  Would they still be lemons?  Intuitions on such matters have historically tended to split, and philosophers are still arguing about i

But when you’re talking about something like Art – then things are doubly confusing, for it’s an object which is defined by constantly evolving human practice.  A practice, mind you, that often tends toward the fickle and superficial.  So in terms of establishing consensus, we’ve already started with a severe handicap.  In fact, historically there has been so little consensus that one has to wonder why on earth so many of us would expend so much energy on the question.  It ostensibly seems to be a complete waste of time.

Well – that’s the way it has been with discussions about metaphysics throughout the ages.  Human beings never end up agreeing about it.  If you’ve had any experience yourself with metaphysical debate then you know this innately to be the case.  If you’re unlucky you’ll be tempted down some kind of anti-metaphysics path where you try to convince other philosophers that metaphysics is a waste of time (usually followers of Wittgenstein) – with various labyrinthine constructs of reason.

You won’t find this sort of argument from me here.  The sane among us just walk away and go and build bridges and roads and other useful things.  If you’re not convinced of this – then I guess you just haven’t hit your head against that brick wall for long enough.  There is nothing I can do or say to save you from that pain.  This article is really for those who already feel the twinge of dissatisfaction at the discourse as it is currently conducted – but don’t really know how else to go about it.

As for having the sense to go and do sensible things like building bridges and roads,  few of us are actually all that wise all the time.  The metaphysical nature of art – a useless debate even by metaphysical standards – drags in even the philosophically disinclined.  No – you don’t have to be a philosopher to engage in metaphysical debate.  Humans end up doing it in some form or another all the time – in all sorts of different ways.  And on the face of it – they do it for no profit or sensible reason since metaphysical discussion produces absolutely no net benefits to the lot of human kind.

One has to wonder…. WHY?

 

Gaming Art

Stop and think about this for a moment – it’s important.  Here is an activity – arguing over the nature of art its metaphysical essence – that is seemingly futile and unproductive.  Yet the debate that the Internet had with Ebert was nothing if not impassioned.  Ebert himself is somewhat bemused by the level of energy expended when he writes:

Why are gamers so intensely concerned, anyway, that games be defined as art? Bobby Fischer, Michael Jordan and Dick Butkus never said they thought their games were an art form. Nor did Shi Hua Chen, winner of the $500,000 World Series of Mah Jong in 2009. Why aren’t gamers content to play their games and simply enjoy themselves? They have my blessing, not that they care.

Do they require validation? In defending their gaming against parents, spouses, children, partners, co-workers or other critics, do they want to be able to look up from the screen and explain, “I’m studying a great form of art?” Then let them say it, if it makes them happy.

However, the irony of Ebert’s question is that it applies equally to his own stance.  The point is, why bother expressing an opinion either way?  Many authors will state in one breath that arguing over definitions is pointless and then go on to state their favoured definition in the next.  It’s as though we all understand that the game we’re playing is completely false, yet we can’t stop ourselves from playing it – or we don’t have the tools that would allow us to play it in a more productive way.

So I return to my question – why?

Well here’s one possible answer that Ebert actually alludes to, and I think it’s correct: the game in question is one of status.  Don’t get me wrong, each side genuinely believes their point of view that games are or are not art.  But the question asks after the motivation behind such forceful argumentation between each side?  Pause for a moment and ask yourself honestly.  All those impassioned comments you left on this blog or that forum – why did you need others to believe in your opinion of the matter?  If you’re able to appreciate the medium as Art, why not spend more time doing so?  Why not enjoy it in silence?    Why bother arguing over the matter when we all implicitly know that reasons pro and con are as effectual as fluff on the breeze?  The same goes for Ebert and his ilk.  What motivates them to try to makes others believe that their appreciation of what they thought was art is in fact not actually art at all?

It’s because the debate is largely a status game between humans.  Art has this status conferring power for a number of important historical reasons.  One is a legacy from our monarchical and ecclesiastical past.  Art was often (and still is) the luxury of rich and important people.  Another is that for a long time Art was associated with highly refined technique.  It took skill and long practice to create art of any kind.  Great art took great skill and so was made rare and valuable as a result.  Not least, the artists themselves waxed lyrical about art being the pinnacle activity of human endeavour, and managed to convince quite a few of the truth of it.  And so it came to be that doing something that reasonably could be labelled art was a signal of high status.  You wore the badge with pride and it brought you the esteem of your peers.

It became an empty status game when dudes began to realise that they could use the symbol without applying the effort while still receiving a near degree of esteem.   And so we got shit in a can – tinned soup, conceptual art… etc…  Why was this possible?  It has to do with the nature of signalling procedures that are innate to the human species.  I’ve written about it in more detail in a previous post on the nature of signalling and intimacy.  The gist is that signalling is a necessary process that we devised in order quickly exchange information.  But the link between the signal and the thing being signalled is mostly arbitrary.  It’s easy to deploy a sign without actually having the reality to back it up.  And because our entire civilisation depends on the trust we place in such signs, we’re reasonably slow to adapt our usage when one is being misused.  As such, I can call my shit in a can a work of art and enjoy the status conferring benefit for quite some time before the majority of people decide to call… bullshit.

As far as status games go, the discussion over art is more absurd than most.  The word has been so raped into meaningless oblivion that there is barely anything left to fight over.  We’ve all become vulturous dogs tearing cartlidge from a long dead carcass.  The reality of this is so salient now that to discuss the nature of art now is to signal that you’re a status conscious douche.    (Case in point: – Clive Barker ended up responding to Ebert by calling him a pompous, arrogant old man.)  This is unfortunate.  Some of us just want to have a good ol’ discussion without signalling as such.  In this way does signalling behaviour and the theft of meaning block intimate, sincere discourse.

But why am I spending so much time on this status signalling issue?  Because it’s an important component to any answer to the question regarding the potential for video games to be art.  If status is the greatest motivating force driving human psychology when it comes to art and if the production of video games is not status conferring, then the best minds won’t be attracted to the endeavour.  But if the best minds are never attracted to the production of computer games, no seminal works of artistic value – proving it’s potential – will ever be created.  And without those seminal works, the medium will never achieve a status conferring role in our culture…. and so on.  It’s a chicken egg problem.

So that’s something that has to be recognised right at the beginning of any discussion of the question.  The mere existence of influencers such as Ebert, who for whatever vacuous reasons assert that video games can’t be art, serves to significantly impede that possibility.  What’s more, many of our brightest will be recognising that to engage in the kind of discourse required to increase the sophistication of our understanding will only serve to signal their own status anxiety.  (And that’s presumably bad – as status conscious as we all are – we certainly don’t want to be revealed as such.)

So when Ebert modifies his claim from saying that computer games can’t be art, to the claim that they won’t be art in our lifetimes, he may well be right – but only to the extent to which people like him continue to encourage resources away from its development through their negative status attributions.

Given this somewhat anaemic context of discourse, one has to wonder how we might actually have an authentic discussion about the issue.  The only suggestion I have to make is the following:

Ignore the metaphysical question concerning the nature of art.

That’s right.  Just don’t worry about it.  What you should do instead is focus on technique.  Either work on building games that you think employ the sort of sophistication required to be considered art – or help provide the analytical skills required to recognise such works should they happen to arise.  After a while, if the medium is indeed capable of artistic expression, the discourse will obtain a degree of technical skill  that those familiar with it will have no doubt about its status.  They won’t care if this is not recognised by the dilettantes not willing to expend the effort required to understand.  That’s how it has always been with elitist cultures.  You think T.S. Elliot cared if the masses recognised his poetry as art?  Doubt it.  But he sure wanted Ezra Pound to think so.

And here’s the key point – if you spend your time on metaphysical discussions about the nature of art, you won’t actually improve your technique, nor your understanding of it.  In this way can you stand apart from your status conscious peers.  You won’t be getting into philosophical arguments with the likes of Ebert because you’ll be too busy producing greatness.  And by producing such greatness, you’ll ultimately win the status game anyway.  It truly is a game that can only be won by not playing.

 

Educating Ebert

Just because we will choose to ignore the metaphysical question about the nature of art does not mean that we have to avoid the question about whether or not games can be art.  It turns out that the rejection of Ebert’s position is made straightforward by a solid understanding of technique.  I’m going to show why this is.  Ultimately it is because when you begin to study the techniques of great art you begin to see that there is nothing structural about computer games that blocks their application.  In the end, you get a very convincing argument that doesn’t at all rely on a metaphysical premise.  And what’s more – the process will all make us a little better at producing art ourselves.  It’s win – win!

To see this we’re going to look at Ebert’s arguments and show how a technical appreciation of various artistic devices will make it straightforward to reject his position.  So what are his arguments?

Well actually – I’m too kind.  I actually only see one argument that he ever produced for his view that computer games can never be art.  It is expressed in the following quote:

Yours is the most civil of countless messages I have received after writing that I did indeed consider video games inherently inferior to film and literature. There is a structural reason for that: Video games by their nature require player choices, which is the opposite of the strategy of serious film and literature, which requires authorial control.

So – the argument is that player choice necessarily blocks the sort of authorial control that is required for great art.  Now, we could mount a substantial attack on this claim on the basis of various post-modernist ideas about the death of the author and all that sort of stuff.  And maybe there is some merit to these ideas.  But it depends on how the idea is developed.  At its worst it devolves into a relativism that forms the justificatory basis for shit in a can.  But in any case this is to get philosophical when what we want to do is focus on technique.  So we won’t be relying on this sort of strategy to make our case.  Let’s grant Ebert’s claim that serious art does in some sense require authorial control.  We’ll grant his metaphysical premise so as to avoid its discussion.

Once we grant this we need to ask how it is that he could be right?  Why is it necessary that player choice should block the sort of authorial control that produces great art?  And to answer this – we need to address the concrete techniques employed in the construction of computers games and various works of great art and to see what in these techniques lead to the kind of blocking of authorial control that Ebert believes will happen.

Note that Ebert never concerns himself with this task as far as I’ve been able to discover in my research.  This is particularly galling.  Without this analysis he fails to provide his readership any sort of metric by which to assess his claim.  His role as a cultural critic is to provide such tools of analysis – to help people educate themselves to a greater level of sophistication in their own thinking.  It’s a great shame that our leaders so often fail in just this way.

So let’s get into it then.  In what way is choice bad for serious art?  At first glance there seems to be considerable room for movement against Ebert’s view.  After all – you might say that quality art allows for considerable choice.  Perhaps the choice is one of interpretation.  Perhaps the choice is over some moral precept that is the subject of the piece. Those works that allow no such choice we often dismiss as didactic, or worse – propaganda.

The only thing that one can reasonably say in response to this is to point out that the issue is not about interpretation – because that’s heading us back in the sort of post-modern direction that we said we’d avoid.   The kind of choice that should be at issue is that which allows the player to determine content in a way that serious art does not allow.   Where I say ‘determines content’ I mean – determines an object which is third person accessible by anyone in a position to view it.  That is to say, the content is not subjectively sitting in someone’s head as a mere interpretation.  And certainly it seems clear that computer games as a medium allows for THIS kind of choice that previous mediums have not allowed to any significant degree.

So we have now a much more refined question.  How is it that content determination by the player should necessarily block the production of serious art?

To answer this question we need to understand the nature of content determined by player choice.  But as soon as we start looking at concrete examples it’s easy to find examples where player choices don’t significantly interfere with authorial control.  Consider, for instance, the linear game play found in first person shooters like Half Life 2.  The technical structure of these worlds allows for limited environmental manipulation.  Any scenery viewed by the player is entirely determined by the creators.  Events are heavily scripted.  The player has a very narrow space in which to make choices – and it’s usually merely to decide which bad guy to shoot next.

Given such limitations to player freedom, the creators are able to craft sections of game play that can only be described as set-pieces: parts of the story that have heightened narrative significance or excitement.   And this is a technique that is commonly employed in many narratives we consider to be great pieces of art.  Consider the following description of how valve creates a set piece where the player is guided to narrowly avoid getting skewered by a giant bug.

Now I’m not arguing that this employment of narrative technique is itself constitutive of ‘great art’ – my point is that this is a concrete example where the existence of player choice has not ‘structurally’ blocked authorial control in the employment of narrative techniques that we see in other media.

Our antogonist could still stand their ground at this point and claim that the set-piece is but one narrative technique involved in the construction of  art – and not even the most important.  And that’s fine.  That’s exactly why I advocate an in depth exploration of technique.  Better that our detractors provide further examples of artistic techniques they think will be blocked by player choice.  If genuine examples are proffered then we can set about trying to solve the problems they raise for game design.  Since our ultimate interest is only in the craft – we don’t care if our opponents at any stage of the discussion have felt as though they have ‘won’ the point – so long as we can bait them into actually providing the technical examples that help improve our understanding.

By this stage I would hope that many of the most recalcitrant objectors would be falling into line behind us.  What the example above allows is the clear hope that the sort of structural blockage to which Ebert eludes just simply doesn’t exist.  But I’m going to carry on in the spirit of our antagonist in any case so as to really get deep into the structural features.

So one further reply that could be made to my example above is to point out that the constraints placed on player choice in the above example are so extreme that the choices made by the player aren’t really genuine.  In order to effect the set piece, the player can choose to die, or to escape through the hatch at the last moment.  This is arguably not a significant choice.  And if games are such that these are the only sorts of choices allowed, then perhaps they don’t deserve to be called games at all.  Perhaps they are best described as forms of ‘interactive fiction’.   The defining feature of interactive fiction is that while there is some freedom of action for the player, their choices do not determine the significant aspects of the content with which they engaging.  One might think of games like Half Life 2 as examples of interactive fiction because we can’t decide the outcome of significant events.  At the end of the game, the bad guy Breen is always killed and the heroes win.  And even in games like ‘Bioshock’ where the player can choose good, or evil endings depending on their treatment of various characters throughout the course of the game – these endings very much feel ancillary.  They are much like an after dinner mint that we either appreciate or we don’t, but either way they don’t greatly effect our opinion of the overall meal.

Let’s grant this objection (but only for a moment).  If we insist that games must involve the kind of player choice that can affect substantive in-game outcomes, does this kind of choice present a structural block to the production of serious art?  I actually think that it’s this sort of conception of a game that Ebert has in mind when he presents his argument.  He writes:

I believe art is created by an artist. If you change it, you become the artist. Would “Romeo and Juliet” have been better with a different ending? Rewritten versions of the play were actually produced with happy endings. “King Lear” was also subjected to rewrites; it’s such a downer. At this point, taste comes into play. Which version of “Romeo and Juliet,” Shakespeare’s or Barker’s, is superior, deeper, more moving, more “artistic”?

So now we really seem to be getting to the meat of the matter.  If you’re trying to produce a tragedy, then allowing the player the option to save King Lear kind of breaks the artistic resonance that a tragedy seems to be trying to evoke.  So the argument from Ebert here is that by providing a possibility space of differing, significant outcomes – only some, at best will be artistically significant.

There are a number of responses we can make here.  The first is to point out that tragedy is not the be all and end all of art(see below for more on this issue).  What’s more, it’s really not the best example  to make the case.  After all, the whole raison d’etre of tragedy is inevitability.  And the sort of choice we are considering just doesn’t cohere with inevitability.  But it’s difficult to claim that inevitability of tragedy is constitutive of art as a whole.  Really, to be convincing we’re going to need to see other forms of art where choice is going to detract from the artistic resonance.

Furthermore I don’t see how such an example could ever make the sort of in principle case that Ebert wants to make (that games can never be art).  Why couldn’t the possibility space be constrained such that every outcome, while still differing significantly, nevertheless have some kind of weighty, artistic resonance?  This is of course a task that has an order of difficulty well beyond the construction of a single linear narrative.  But nothing has been offered so far to tell us why this should be impossible in principle.

It seems to me that this kind of argument that Ebert is making here is like listening to the square in flatland denying the existence of spheres because he can’t perceive in three dimensions.  Why must every concrete possibility, within the possibility space of a game, be itself a work of high art?  Might it be possible that the structure of the possibility space itself involve higher forms of symbolism that we can currently scarcely imagine.  Individual realisations of the possibility space might just be slices of the sphere.  The object of art might only be understood once a more thorough knowledge of the possibility space is obtained.  Given that the possibility space itself could entirely be a work of the author, the choice of the player is just an illusion created by his limited perception – much like our own choice in real life is an illusion borne of our inability to see through time.  Ebert’s criterion of authorial control would be met.

Or perhaps instead we figure out the broad structural features that make a particular possibility stand out as being particularly artistic.  Suppose we learn that if we throw together certain elements and weight them in particular ways, then depending on the choices of the player, one is much more likely to get the realisation of a possibility that does in fact have artistic merit.  The production of a game play event that is highly artistic could be considered a feather in the cap of the player, who might then post the results to Youtube and share in some of the status that would otherwise go entirely to the author.  The production of art could in fact be seen as a collaborative effort (much to the chagrin of those of romantic sensibility who believe in the cult of genius – and really, the only ones who do subscribe to the romantic cult of genius are the ones who secretly believe that they themselves are members of that club).

But let’s return to the claim that in order to be a real game, it has to allow the player significant narratorial choice.  Why?  Are we going to get into an argument about the metaphysical nature of games now?  Oh where is Wittgenstein when you need him.  To say that games MUST involve significant choice for the player is simply to misunderstand the potential variety that games can embody.

Besides that – think about how the limited amount of choice in interactive fiction could be used to greatly heighten an artistic experience.   Imagine a King Lear game that has as its mission the saving of the King from his tragic end, but that no matter what you do, the King still dies.  Such a game would fit the definition of an interactive story – since the possibility space doesn’t allow for significant variation from the tragic ending.  Yet think about how the existence of the (limited) possibility space itself might be thought to heighten one’s appreciation of the inevitability of his death.  Think of one’s own increasing anguish as you realise that the king is doomed in EVERY accessible possible world.

Don’t reply that a game you can’t win isn’t a game.  If you do then fine… but to this metaphysical claim I’m likely to roll my eyes and change the subject.

Having said this – I didn’t present the concept of the interactive story as a direct counter example to Ebert’s thesis.  I only intended to highlight that Half Life 2 serves as an example of how at least one traditional narrative technique can still be employed by games.  It’s a wedge argument.  If we have one such example why can’t there be more?

To provide a genuine answer this question, Ebert would have to give a detailed exposition of the techniques employed in serious narrative and why their structural nature is blocked by all forms of player choice.  Of course, he never does this.  Very few ever do.

 

The Shadow of Romanticism

There’s one more defence of Ebert’s position that is worthy of our attention.  An apology of Ebert has been written by Brian Moriarty over at Gamasutra, and it’s certainly one of the more sophisticated discussions of the issue.  He presents a number of different arguments, but the most important one – the one that bears directly on our discussion hitherto – relies on the philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer – an influential romantic thinker of the nineteenth century.

The argument is essentially metaphysical in its essence and although I’ve laid out my response to metaphysical strategies – I want to cover it in detail because it marks the sort of sophistication that this tradition of argumentation can achieve.  It also neatly demonstrates just how limiting a perspective it ultimately is.

The conception of art offered by Schopenhauer, and relied upon by Moriarty, starts with a very broad metaphysical premise:  the world is will – a ceaseless, blind irrational striving for existence.  For Schopenhauer, to be in thrall to the passions entailed by this will is a kind of fundamental suffering.  Passion and desire itself is suffering for Schopenhauer, so anything which might liberate one from it is going to be lauded.  It turns out that good art does just this, the sublime and tragic variants more than the rest.  Hence sublime and tragic art is praised as being the greatest of artistic pursuits.  As Schopenhauer puts it, in tragedy the protagonist is not just killed, their entire will to life is annihilated.  And this release is thought of as a good thing.

Moriarity’s uses this conception of art to give us an explanation as to why the choice allowed in games is antithetical to artistic ambition.  It’s because choice is an expression of will – of that supposedly horrible, painful striving.  So if games are defined by the choice that they offer players, they can’t themselves be examples of art.

This is an extraordinary defence when you think about it.  Moriarty casts himself and Ebert as good, old fashioned romantics.  But the way he invokes this Schopenhaurian romanticism feels much like how a Sunday Christian might speak about their devotion to Christianity.  Does Moriarity really believe in the central metaphysical premise – that the world is will?  Does he really believe that all desire and passion is suffering?  I find it very hard to believe.  I don’t doubt that he sees it as an attractive intellectual posit – but c’mon, who really believes such things these days?  - unless you are a practicising Bhuddist, you’re very unlikely to be writhing in pain while you covet that final remaining slice of chocolate cake.  Most of us believe that the passions are the animating force of life itself, and most of us believe that life is something worth participating within.  If you’re hanging around for nirvana instead – well that’s up to you.  But don’t pretend allegiance to a philosophy that in practice you don’t really believe in at all.  And certainly don’t try to use that pretend allegiance in an effort to make other people feel bad about their particular artistic pursuit.  It just aint cool.

What turns out to be the height of metaphysical sophistication is at its heart nothing more than shallow pretence – another move in the status game.  ”My art is a sublime expression of the inexpressible” – says the romantic.  ”Beat that!”  The romantics cast their move in the game as being outside the game as a defensive move that could only work on the gullible.  It’s just unfortunate that so many are.

Of course, everything I’ve been saying hitherto against metaphysics applies here as well.  The metaphysical claim itself is vague and difficult to understand (as metaphysical claims often are).  The world is will.. riiigghhhtt… do we even really know what this means?

Finally – do you really want your appreciation of artistic technique to be constrained by a particular weltanschauung?  For my lot, I want a medium that will allow me to explore multiple perspectives of the nature of the universe and our place within it.  I don’t want to be constrained to a medium which presupposes a particular world view – and if I did I certainly wouldn’t choose one that supposes that existence itself is suffering.  That just aint my bag.

 

To be continued in:  - Starcrafting Art

I’m not done with this topic – although I’m done with this particular post.  My next review will constitute a more exclusive exploration of technique as applied to the gaming medium – without the methodological discussion that constituted the bulk of this post.

I’ll be looking at the Blizzard game Starcraft and will compare the ways in which symbols are used to create meaning in narrative structures and how this technique can carry over into the gaming medium.  What I’ll hope to provide is a set of resources people can use when thinking about how to craft expression in gaming and other media.

Starcraft, as we’ll see, is a wonderful example because most don’t expect it to be cited in this sort of discussion.  While having an incredibly sophisticated gameplay experience, few would offer it as an example of high art.  Few would claim that it makes use of the sorts of techniques that one finds in artistic expression.  I won’t go so far as to claim that it is a work of high art, however, I will make the case that it makes use of one of the most sophisticated narrative techniques used by many of the greats, and that it does so in a completely innovative and new way.  Exciting!

Learning how expression is possible in new media – learning the techniques of such expression – has a wonderful side effectl.  It expands our understanding of expression itself.  The way it is that human’s create meaning is still one of the most mysterious aspects of our nature.  New and evolving media like games sit at the absolute cutting edge of that mystery.  Understanding technique is the only way we’ll ever immerse ourselves within it.  Metaphysics just keeps it all hidden from our view.  So in the next post we’ll be pursuing the former without any further thought for the latter.

Until then!