I’ve recently had whooping cough (for the second time) and it’s been a definite dissertation set-back. I estimate I probably lost 5 weeks worth of useful work time. (Note: 5 is what I wrote when I originally started this post, it’s now closer to 8.) I have managed this though, my first pass-through of open coding on ethical codes and guidelines as written by a variety of professional archaeological organizations and societies. The list below are the thematic units as expressed in those codes. I’m providing them here without indicating how often they occur. (Some people have already heard me ranting about that, in a few cases it’s very, very depressing.) I’m currently trying to breathe through it and do the second pass of refining the terms and usages.
archaeology as non-renewable resource
archaeological remains or sites
authentications and valuations
citation or authorial credit
conferences and meetings
conflict of interest
dissemination of results
funding or funding bodies
intangible cultural heritage
past as irreplaceable
rescue or salvage archaeology
site protection from warfare
standards of conduct
tangible cultural heritage
Earlier this year at #SAA2016, in Orlando, there were many conversations about the ongoing problems of harassment in archaeology. The topic that received the most attention was sexual harassment, but there were also discussions of harassment involving, amongst other things, gender, age, sexual orientation, and disability status. I attended two organized sessions that were centered around issues of harassment, and had many, many conversations with colleagues and friends about what needs to be done to make our profession safer and more welcoming to all.
That said, I was initially very pleased when, last night, an email came from the Society for American Archaeology President, Diane Gifford-Gonzalez, asking the membership to vote on a related guideline addition to the society’s code of ethics.
This was the letter attached to the email that I received:
The email came with a link to the voting system. The vote was presented as a straight up or down. There was no option to amend, or forum presented for discussion of the language in the proposed guideline. Without a formal space designated to have a conversation about the guideline, Twitter became the de facto location for exploring the language, and intent, of the proposal. The following is a storify of my initial response to the guideline.
One of the issues I’ve struggled with in my research is how to combat the inherent bias involved in media critique, especially when the media critique so heavily involves play, which is an inherently personal thing. It’s been an issue in every step of the process.
- How do I select games that adequately cover representations of archaeologists?
- What constitutes a representation?
- Do I just analyze games where the protagonist explicitly calls themselves an archaeologist?
- What about games where someone else calls them an archaeologist?
- What about games where they aren’t called an archaeologist but they’re clearly taking on a role that involves heritage management, or mismanagement?
- Do I privilege games for analysis by time period, by content, or by hardware?
- What about games that appear on multiple generations of hardware, or at multiple times?
- Should whether or not the game has an active community play a role in its selection?
- What constitutes an active community?
The answer to any of those questions cannot be any variation on, “Because I’m the researcher, it’s my project, and I know best.” That isn’t good enough in any sort of scientific endeavor, and it’s an easy crutch to lean on when working with “popular” media that leads to bad analysis. I’ve struggled with how to handle this concern.
For my part, I’m working within a system of radical transparency. As defined by Morgan and Eve, radical transparency is, “…revealing the process of the construction of knowledge and thereby decentralising the power inherent in interpretation.”
My practical interpretation of radical transparency means that each of the questions above needs to be answered in a way that shows how that answer was reached, in venues that allow for input, critique, and consultation on the process. It’s my dissertation, and ultimately I have to be responsible for the final product, but the process of how I get there should be visible along the way, as well as within the final product itself.
So watch this space. This is going to be messy.
Morgan, C. and Eve, S., 2012. DIY and digital archaeology: what are you doing to participate?. World Archaeology, 44(4), pp.521-537.
Here we are in August, and my second Thesis Advisory Panel meeting is fast approaching. Because of schedules, both mine and my supervisor’s, my TAP will be a bit early, in the very beginning of September. That, coupled with leaving for WAC at the very end of August, means that right now I have 10 days (including weekends, and I think I’ve mentioned before how I feel about work/life balance and weekends?), to get everything together to submit.
As it stands, this is what I’m considering turning in/presenting:
- Ch 1, Introduction, 2000 words
- Ch 2, Ethics section and subsections, 5000 words
- Ch 2, Methodology section and subsections, 3000 words
- Ch 2, Theory section and subsections, 3000 words
- Glossary, 3000 words (that don’t count towards my total word count)
- A Gantt chart of my progress so far
- The data collection forms I’ve made (digital forms, because this project is 0 paper)
- My ethics forms for the formal review process
The big thing I’m not turning in, and what will keep me from going through the confirmation to PhD process, is the formalized literature review.
When I changed my organizational/chapter structure about a month ago (which was absolutely the right thing for me to do), I broke up the literature review from one big chapter into focused sections that would address specific areas as needed, The reorganization also came alongside finally getting a handle on what theory was relevant. So the literature review I had in progress is now out of sync with how I’m organized, and not focused on what I’m actually doing. It is too sprawling and open, and basically, unusable. Without a literature review I can’t be vetted for confirmation though, so, that has to get done and settled by March, or it’s game over PhD and hello MPhil (aka, failure.)
I’m trying not to panic, but I believe in being honest about how this process really functions, so…I’m panicking, a lot. I think the written work I’ve done is good enough, but I just don’t know if I’ve done enough written work, and I don’t know if the amount of non-written work it took to get to that written work is evident.
I really don’t want to get sent home.
One of the (few) advantages to being from the US, but based in the UK, is that I have been able to maintain my access to the US-side Playstation Store. (I never switched my account over, and I don’t think I will, at least not in the foreseeable future.) Because of this, I found myself in the position yesterday of being able to access the PS4 iteration of No Man’s Sky before it was released in the UK and Europe.
I did not intend to stay up until 2 in the morning conducting planetside ground survey.
I stayed up until 2 in the morning conducting planetside ground survey.
It was totally worth it, and I say that as someone who still had to be up at 6 to take out the dogs, and who had to be in the office by 7:45.
Backtracking though, let me go through how the process worked, and what I took away from my first night as an official NMSAS Archaeonaut. I can’t speak to how normalized my first experience was compared to the starting experience of others, so if you don’t want to know how the “tutorial” worked, this is a good place to stop.
Loading into the world, I found myself on a planet that was mostly purple and red, with pod-like carbon-based vegetation and twisting, almost organically shaped iron deposits, many of which were taller than me. My ship was nearby, but in a state of disrepair, and there were crates, boxes, and bits of detritus nearby, all clearly from my crashed vessel. Upon interacting with one of these pieces of mess, I was linked up to the Atlas, and given basic instructions on what I needed to do to to repair my ship. The option was presented to allow the Atlas to help me, or to completely free range and see what happened. I accepted the help of the Atlas, but…ended up ranging pretty far afield anyway, because 1) I’m an archaeologist and I was tempted by vaguely constructed-looking shapes just at my horizon/draw distance, and 2) I’m crap at orientating myself on a map, which is a professional failing that I am very aware of in myself.
With a need to fix my ship established, I took off across the planet, using my hand-held scanner to look for nearby resources. I was concerned, prior to starting this project, as to what role collecting and resource gathering would have in the process. My work focuses so strongly on the ethics of archaeological practice in games, and on archaeological representation in games, that I had worries that No Man’s Sky would be the largest set-back to archaeological representation in games since the first Tomb Raider. Thus far, those concerns have been unfounded, but I’m still monitoring the way the game handles commodification, and my role in that process as an Archaeonaut.
I ended up climbing mountains and falling into a crevasse and learning to use my jet-pack thrusters and meeting several cow-like creatures that ran away from me. The interface tells you how long it’s going to take to reach any particular object, waypoint, or goal that you’ve found via your scanner, and when it said it was going to take 30 minutes to hit a particular deposit I needed for my engine repairs, I assumed it was joking.
It was not.
Time, and time management, are huge issues in this game. If it says it’s going to take 45 minutes to get somewhere, it means it, and that 45 minutes is only 45 minutes if you don’t get distracted by anything else, and if it’s a straight (non-crevasse-filled) line between you and your target. The process feels very foreign, in a game, as I’ve become used to fast-travel and jump points and not walking everywhere. Later, when I finally got off-planet and into “space”, the process was repeated in an even more intense way.
It’s more than just time management in that you may not have 6 hours to play every day. It’s also that as you explore, or in my case, as I attempted ground survey, you also have to keep yourself alive by managing your systems. Heat was a problem for me. My suit kept overheating, my life support failed, my shielding went down, I had problems with it being too hot, and then too cold, as the day-night cycle progressed. I had to do a lot to keep myself alive, beyond just not getting eaten by anything, which I had some real concerns about. The game made me feel very, very small, and very, very alone. I had no idea what would happen if I “died”.
Having recovered everything I needed, I took a roundabout way back to my ship, as I’d been enticed by three question mark icons located during my hand-scanning. They turned out to be two obelisks, and a shrine. From an examination of the obelisks, I learned some of the (possibly?) native language, and at the shrine, I was able to put together those words and partially decipher an associated text. This language acquisition proved helpful when I left the planet, as the tongue had spread to other planets in the system.
Taking off into space was intense. I have a fear of heights, and of flying, and the user interface combined with my big screen and a dark room was enough to again make me feel very small and isolated, and very alone in the universe. If that was the intent, well done Hello Games. You nailed it.
I finally logged off around 2, having located the next closest planet and begun working with the FAIMS toolset that we’re using for data recording for the project. Thoughts on that, pictures of Dennis-1, the first planet I recorded for the project, and thoughts on my first encounter with demonstrably sentient life, to come later.
*As part of the survey, we are recording our discoveries as Surname-PlanetNumberDiscovered, therefore, the first planet I encountered was Dennis-1. I am also recording the indigenous names of all planets and features encountered, but have not yet determined how, and to what extent, to incorporate those indigenous naming conventions into my personal reports. For now, I’m making note of them, and will be consulting with a colleague regarding the appropriate response.
Along with my colleagues Tara Copplestone and Andrew Reinhard, I am now one of the hosts of a new podcast, 8bit Test Pit, streaming on the Archaeology Podcast Network. On the podcast we talk about archaeogaming, the intersection of culture in material and immaterial worlds, digital ethics, methodology for excavation in game spaces, and how games can be used for archaeological interpretation and outreach.
It’s crazy fun, and a great opportunity to work through some of the issues of our new sub-discipline that need hashing out. We’d love suggestions for topics for the show, and are keen to have guests on to talk about their own research in archaeogaming and games-located archaeological studies.
Follow 8bit Test Pit on Twitter as well!
In less than a month I’m traveling to Kyoto to take part in the Eighth World Archaeological Congress. It’s a conference that meets every four years, and covers archaeological topics of all periods and places. I’ll be giving a paper on gendered representations of archaeologists in video-games, chairing a session on archaeological representation in media, and presenting a poster on the ethical code for archaeogaming that I’m creating as part of my dissertation research.
The code is still quite rough, I’m presenting it as a draft format, with the hope of getting feedback on direction and viability. This should be translated, through the filter of a first year PhD student as, “I’m terrified that my work will be torn apart but also terrified that someone will do this work before me, and better, and more publicly.”
It’s time to start planning for next year’s conferences, because this stuff starts very, very far out. The Society for American Archaeology’s Annual Meeting will be held in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada from March 29 – April 2, 2017. I’m currently involved with planning two sessions, one for Project #Moonstuff, and one on archaeogaming.
While this is an organized session, it’s not a closed one. If anyone is interested in participating, they should get in contact with me and I’ll be glad to talk about the session, and provide information on how to submit an abstract to it. I’m particularly interested in having diverse voices within the papers, so varied backgrounds and experience levels are welcome.
The abstract for the proposed archaeogaming symposium is:
Archaeogaming: Studying Material Culture in Immaterial Worlds
Archaeogaming posits that immaterial worlds, such as those found in single and multiplayer video-games, are viable spaces in which to study material culture, recognizing that created cultures are the inherited product of cultural influences from within our own “real” world. By examining each game space, we can isolate the particular culture of the created world, can apply archaeological and ethnographic techniques, and can address larger issues of theory and practice in non-destructive, replicable ways. Within this session, practitioners involved in the emerging four fields of archaeogaming will discuss their work. Papers focus on the archaeology of video-games and related technologies via real-world excavation, archaeology within video-games via digital excavation, the creation of archaeological video-games, and critical examinations of archaeology and cultural heritage in video-games.
The abstract for my proposed paper within the session is:
Codifying Ethical “Field” Methodologies Within Immaterial Spaces
As archaeogaming posits that immaterial space is a valid sphere in which to study material culture, it is necessary to determine how common archaeological practices can be performed within that sphere, and whether the performative acts are, given the limitations and bounds of immaterial space, still appropriate as method. In addition, the ethical ramifications of common practice require reconsideration, as their performance occurs in contexts and involves situations where AI actors may be unable to consent to engagement or participation in potentially problematic fieldwork. Through both discussions of theory and case study examples, the argument will be made that it is only through a conscious application of an applied ethics policy that fieldwork conducted in immaterial space can be considered valid archaeologically.
My recovery from the great tumble continues. My foot is mostly better, unless I walk on it too long. My back is still a wreck. My arm, which hit the banister on the way down, has turned a lovely shade of blackish-purple, a color that were I twenty years younger, my teenage goth self would have found darkly appealing.
This week has been busy, and it’s only Wednesday. My meeting with my supervisor went well, and she was quite happy with the first draft of the first chapter that I turned in. The suggestions she offered actually made my work easier and less painful that I what I was proposing, which was welcome. I think I will, for the next three years, continue to live in fear of disappointing everyone with my writing and ideas, but it’s not this week, at least.
My dissertation work continues. I thought I’d got a handle on the lit review section dealing with media archaeology, and then discovered, as I call them, “My Germans.” That led me down a path of obtaining translations and too much time copy-pasting untranslated material into a converter, then picking out what the gibberish returned by the program might mean… In short, I am besotted with some of the thought on media and materiality that’s come out of Germany, and particularly Berlin, but it’s going to require rewrites on my part. I think it’s important to reiterate that I am not a trained media archaeologist. I am a trained field archaeologist, and have found a niche in-between the two areas, which means to a degree, I’m figuring some stuff out as I go along. Most of the time I feel good about how I’ve positioned myself, but there are days when what I don’t know is a crushing weight that terrifies me.
On Thursday, the students I worked with via the University of York’s Archaeology and Heritage field school are having their final exhibition, which will showcase both their work and the work of the paired excavation modules at Breary Banks and Malton. There’s a flurry of activity here at the end, checking and rechecking files, making sure that everything is turned in and set up and ready to go. I will not say how many emails concerning the project I received before 8 this morning, but the number was considerable. It’s great fun working with this group of students though, so even during the grumbly moments (I need to check what for the what number time?!) I’m happy to be involved with the project.