tagged: behaviour

Screens abroad

I took this photograph at Da Nang Airport, in Vietnam. The girl’s parents were both on their phones about 20 yards away.

Although it shouldn’t surprise me, I was struck by the number of iPads and laptops I saw on our recent travels. Especially the former. Even in remote places, being ferried by minibus to other remote places, the iPads were out; our need for entertainment is not to be suppressed by the risk of loss or theft, or even the view out of the window.

I think this photograph captures things perfectly: the little girl’s YouTube trance; the opportune use of an airport power socket; the role of laptop as temporary guardian; the prioritisation of stimulus over comfort – and the illusory sense of privacy created by hiding behind a metal post.

Seems the whole world is destined to become a ‘second screen’.

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How to generate action, no really

Below is a brilliantly constructed presentation from John Howard. It echoes lots of things I’m a passionate advocate of: seduction, gentle action-based persuasion and motivating people without asking for the world. And it’s put together into an effortless narrative. Which is appropriate, really.

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Books for dessert

Last night during dinner, my wife mentioned that when she was younger she automatically put salt and pepper on her food. (She no longer does) Three minutes later I owned a new book. Weird? Five years ago, yes. But not any more.

Her mentioning of salt and pepper reminded me of Bill Bryson’s new book At Home. I recalled a radio interview about the book, which looks to decode the meanings, designs, cultures and etiquette around details in the home. Like why, out of all the spices in the world, we have salt and pepper on the table?

“Why not pepper and cardamom, say, or salt and cinnamon?”

Good question, Bill.
To cut a long story short, I remembered that I wanted to read the book, reached over to my laptop (terrible manners, I know) and bought it for my Kindle. It was immediately sent to my device and the moment we finished dinner I read the first chapter.

It was one of those beautiful moments where I thought: I bloody love technology. I often have moments where the endless new possibilities frighten the hell out of me, but on this occasion, for all the complexity that lay behind the scenes, the experience I had was effortless and rewarding.

As technology seeps into the very smallest cracks between seemingly disconnected moments and actions, the more these moments become possible. Every mealtime conversation should result in owning a new book. Brilliant.

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Forced serendipity

I just downloaded Benrik‘s Situationist app, which “alerts members to each other’s proximity and gets them to interact in random situations.”

So I can create ‘situations’ like “wave to me” or “buy me a sandwich” and other members of Situationist who are nearby will be shown a picture of my face and asked to play along. Hence this.

Anyway, the app starts up with this opening sentence:

“Serendipity doesn’t happen by itself.”

I love this sentence. It sums up so much about our obsession with control, new tools and new social opportunities. Of course, serendipity does happen by itself – just not enough, apparently. We therefore want to engineer it, whilst clinging to the romanticism of what we’re leaving behind. Forced serendipity is an oxymoron. Maybe we need a new word for this kind of thing.

For associated reading, see Matt Jones’ words about “maximising serendipity” and “coincidences with fuzzy edges” in the design of the Dopplr ecosystem.

HT to Dom

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Avoiding software sins

I think we’re familiar with the idea that there’s an app for pretty much everything. So this Confessions app (“the perfect aid for every penitent”) isn’t that surprising. Nor is its endorsement by the Roman Catholic Church.

It is useful to make a more general point, though: It’s now very, very easy to translate ideas from channel to channel. We can re-imagine anything in new, multiple forms. (I almost said ‘transmedia’ then but I stopped myself)

But when the answer to “can we?” is almost always ‘yes’, the more important questions become “should we?” and “if so, how?”

I’m not going to debate the value of this app to a Catholic person. I’m not religious. But I am going to debate the translation of complex rituals from one format to another.

Logic tells you an app like this is makes perfect sense. Confession, when broken down mechanically, is the sharing of a sin that is in turn absolved by a priest. So, documenting one’s sins in an app – and perhaps sharing them with a priest digitally(?) could, in theory fulfill a similar objective.

The problem is, you can’t break this process down mechanically, because it’s not a mechanical experience. It’s a deeply human one.

The app provoked this response on engadget from a Roman Catholic:

“I find this app absolutely appalling! Where are we headed? Will our avatar take our place in hell? When Catholics get too lazy to reconcile with the Lord, the Sacrament loses its power. Will we next have an app for someone say our prayers for us, too?”

Human behaviour and experience is affected and shaped by myriad factors. If the environment, the tools, the interactions are changed, then the experience is different. And in some cases (above) can alienate/anger people.

This is an important point that anyone working in our field (marketing, not religion) should take note of. Channels are not empty vessels to fill with old meaning. They come with their own meanings – and these meanings skew anything that comes into contact with them. You have to respect both the rituals and connotations of the thing you’re translating and the ones associated with the new medium. This stuff is complex and no matter how many times you simplify it for ease of explanation, the development of these experiences is an art form to be taken seriously. You’re engineering new rituals not just new apps.

A thoughtful comment on the same engadget post reminds us of just some of these complexities:

“all the app actually does is enable a person to be fully prepared for the sacrament of confession. In order to make a good confession, one needs to bear in mind all their transgressions since their last confession. This is a way of keeping “inventory” of ones sins. It is not at all intended to replace a Priest/Confessor.”

And the same person notes that non-believers have their own rituals in their judgement of the app too:

“It is interesting to me that so many folks see this as a way of avoiding the confessional or even worse…a new way for the church to make money”

It comes down to respect. Respect the medium, respect the user, respect rituals and respect the possibility of change. Just don’t be a dick.

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It’s alive!

A dramatic – and essentially false – statement. But it is interesting to think what the world around us might look and feel like if we began to assign human needs/desires into objects we use. I love a bit of personification on a Tuesday morning.

Ben talks more about it over at NDG

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Save it as a WWF

This is exactly the sort of idea I want to say I came up with. But, alas I didn’t. From my light research, I believe Jung Von Matt, in Germany created it with/for WWF.

Instead of ‘talking about’ saving trees (yawn), they’ve created a new file format: *.WWF

A WWF file is basically a PDF that can’t be printed. So by creating and sharing WWF files, people can express their support of WWF, propagate their message and actually impact on the amount of paper being used. The word genius is over-used these days, but I feel it’s deserved here.

The tough/interesting part will be trying to get people to use this file format long-term, which requires a wide-spread behaviour change. It will be most powerful if it genuinely becomes a part of culture. Otherwise it will only be effective as far as its novelty and ingenuity will propel it. I truly hope this gets used.

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Why Qwiki won’t make us lazy

I’ve heard a few people speaking dismissively of Qwiki, the ‘information experience’ engine. If you don’t know what Qwiki does, it does this:

The all-too-familiar concern seems to be that watching Qwikis will make us all lazy. Although I’ve only played with Qwiki for twenty minutes, my (rushed) conclusion is that I disagree with those people. Here are two good things about Qwiki:

1. Satisfying partial interest
Our interest in things is not binary. I.e. We are not either interested or not interested; sometimes we are partially interested. The thing about being partially interested at a time of information overload is that we usually don’t ‘waste’ our energy exploring those things. Instead we spend our precious minutes on the things we’re very interested in.

In the same way that ‘free’ music opens us up to sounds we would otherwise never have bothered with, I think Qwiki will do the same thing with knowledge, by lowering the barrier to entry. There are things and places that I would like to know more about, but that I would never dig through long articles to learn about. Qwiki enables us to ‘window-shop’ for new information without committing too much effort. If that window-shopping turns up something interesting, I think we will find the energy to explore it more fully elsewhere.

2. Ambient knowledge
An interesting side effect of my first few Qwiki experiences was that my wife – who was getting ready to leave the house – heard and appreciated details of the Qwikis I was watching. It was about Edinburgh (where she went to University) and she found out that a band she likes also originates from there. She never would have discovered that if I was reading an article, because I wouldn’t have thought to tell her. Things get interesting when the edges blur.

Laziness is definitely a relevant part of this conversation, although I think it’s a subjective label. I’m quite a ‘lazy’ reader, in that if the thing I’m reading is not stimulating, I quickly tire and become less likely to continue. In technical terms: my reward diminishes and the effort required goes up, making the whole bargain seem not worthwhile.

If what I’m reading is highly stimulating/rewarding, then my motivation increases and I become more energised to read on. The beauty of Qwiki is that because the effort to consumer is so low, the reward is almost guaranteed to exceed the energy required to obtain it. The result is increased motivation and interest and a much higher chance of feeling compelled to research more.

Qwiki becomes ‘first base’ in knowledge’s seduction process. It won’t make us lazy. If anything, it will convert our existing laziness into something more useful.  Or will it? ;)

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A new age of bartering

One of my current obsessions is the emergence of new ways to exchange value. You might have seen this example recently:

A debate broke out at Poke last week about Pay With A Tweet, which is based on the idea that…

“the value of people talking about your product is sometimes higher than the money you would get for it. ‘Pay with a Tweet’ is the first social payment system, where people pay with the value of their social network.”

For me, advocacy should be an informed choice to have any credibility, so this idea doesn’t sit well with me. This is very much putting the seller/promoter before the ‘consumer’, much like that Nike Facebook thing that insisted people ‘liked’ Nike Football before they could watch their video. It ‘worked’, but how many people did it piss off? It is interesting to watch these things though – and people’s reactions to them.

One of my favourite ideas EVER is Wants For Sale, in which an artist paints a picture of something they want and then sells the painting for the cost of that item. So if they want a $300 pair of shoes, they’ll sell a picture of them for $300 and go buy them. Paintings range from $1 to $1,000,000, which is part of the charm. It removes normal factors that might affect a painting’s price (quality/size) from the equation, creating an unusual and elastic framework for participation built largely on emotive value.

I’m excited to see that they’ve branched out and introduced Needs For Sale, using the same concept to raise money for charity. Brilliant.

This concept is part of the inspiration for a new experiment/project of mine called Bad Dollar. More about that when there’s something worthwhile to say about it. And a second project too actually. Also a secret. I’ll move on.

For every ounce of ‘value’ out there, there is a bargain at its core that can be reinvented again and again — What do you get and what does it cost you? I believe there are more, better examples to be born yet that tweak our relationship with content and ideas.

We launched Balloonacy – the great internet balloon race – last week, which is a great example of breaking from traditional models of cost-reward. Each site owner that becomes part of the race course gets loads of traffic and in return Orange get free media placements. And players, of course, enjoy a fun game and the chance to win awesome prizes. Everyone’s a winner. And if we’re all smart about it, this need never change.

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Point-and-click reality

The first time I ‘reached’ for the <undo> button in real life was in 2000. I was drawing something, made a bad mark and – just for a second – went to click the button that would reverse things. We’ve all done that. I think.

Back to the present. Last Friday, actually. I had been playing Beneath A Steel Sky on my iPhone, a point-and-click adventure game. I – or rather, my character -  needed to find a radiation suit, so he/I/we could go into a nuclear reactor. Like this:


I was playing on the bus and hadn’t managed to find the suit by the time I reached my stop. Minutes later, I saw these outside a hardware store:


For just a moment, I felt a pang of excitement. Not those-are-my-lottery-numbers excitement. Just a modest rush of chemicals associated with the pleasure at moving forward in the  game. It didn’t last long, of course. I didn’t put the jacket on and scream ‘which way to the reactor?’ But it happened. And I felt a bit weird about it.

I don’t play video games much. Does this kind of thing happen a lot to gamers?

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