Pirating the 2015 Oscars: HD Edition

In January 2004, the Los Angeles Times published an article headlined “Screener Ends Up on the Internet,” a story about the recent leak of the Something’s Gotta Give screener copy intended for Oscar voters.

This headline struck me as laughably clueless — like reading “Local Man Views Pornography On Internet” — but the MPAA statements inside were even more surreal, claiming it “marked the first time a so-called screener sent to an Oscar voter had been made available for illegal copying.”

Anyone who’d spent ten minutes on Usenet in the early 2000s knew this was nonsense. Oscar screeners leaked regularly and reliably, often with watermarks intact, typically around December and early January when they were mailed to Academy voters.

So I did a little digging and found that all but one of that year’s 22 nominated films were already online.


A decade later, it’s become an annual ritual for me.

On the morning the Oscar nominees are announced, I roll out of bed, load up some tabs, and start doing research into every nominated film.

The result is this Google Spreadsheet encompassing all 413 Oscar-nominated feature films for the last 13 years.

A glimpse at the data for this year’s nominees. Here’s the full version.

Along with the official U.S. and Oscar screener release dates, I include the leak dates for each major way that films typically find their way online:

  1. Cam. The old standby, a handheld camera in a theater. The worst quality, and increasingly uncommon.
  2. Telesync. Typically, a cam with better audio, often from headphone jacks in theater seats intended as hearing aids.
  3. Telecine, R5, PPV, Webrip, and HDRips. The terminology and sourcing’s changed through the years, but these are all high-quality rips with solid audio and video. (Generally speaking, Telecines were ripped from original prints distributed to theaters, R5 from “Region 5” DVDs sent to other regions to combat piracy, PPV from advanced pay-per-view sources, Webrip from early online releases like iTunes, and HDRip from a variety of sources, but typically from HDTV.)
  4. Screener. Great quality, usually intended for media or competition review, but can leak at any point in the distribution chain, often with watermarks intact. (As Ellen DeGeneres knows well.)
  5. Retail. A rip from the official retail release.

And then I use a little spreadsheet magic to calculate tables with a bunch of stats tracking how many films leaked online and how quickly.

Yes, this is my idea of a good time. I’m great at parties.


DVD In An HD World

In April 2004, the MPAA was already crowing about a decline in screener piracy, citing their watermarking technology and FBI assistance to increase accountability.

This was the start of a decade-long battle against screener piracy, but a funny thing happened in the last couple years:

Screeners weren’t declining then, but they’re declining now. But not because of increased accountability, watermarks, or new DRM technology.

Screeners aren’t leaking because they don’t matter anymore.


Think of it this way:

If you’re in a scene release group—one of the underground bands of misfits with names like SiMPLE, EVO, or TiTAN you see tagged in every torrent — you’re competing with dozens of others trying to release films online as quickly as possible, at the highest possible quality.

If you’re the first to release a highly-prized film in a high-quality release, you win bragging rights over every other group.

A release that’s lower quality than one already leaked by someone else? Completely worthless. A cam isn’t great, but a telesync is better. A telecine is marginally better than a telesync, but a watermarked screener? Much, much better.

But here’s the thing: screeners are stuck in the last decade. While we’re all streaming HD movies from iTunes or Netflix, the movie studios almost universally send screeners by mail on DVDs, which is forever stuck in low-resolution standard-definition quality. A small handful are sent in higher-definition Blu-ray.

This year, one Academy member received 68 screeners — 59 on DVD and only nine on Blu-ray. Only 13% of screeners were sent to voters in HD quality.

As a result, virtually any HD source is more prestigious than a DVD screener. And with the shift to online distribution, there’s an increasing supply of possible HD sources to draw from before screeners are ever sent to voters.


On December 27, Foxcatcher leaked online in HD quality by the release group EVO with hardcoded Arabic subtitles, a pretty strong indication it wasn’t sourced from a screener.

EVO released a new version without subtitles on January 6, captured from a 1080p source and released as a WEB-DL.

Even if someone did manage to get a copy of the Foxcatcher DVD screener right now, it’s unlikely it would ever be released. It’s garbage compared to either of these two releases — standard-definition and likely littered with watermarks or other dumb security precautions.


Now, in 2015, Oscar-nominated films leak online as quickly and consistently as ever.

Of this year’s 36 nominated films, 34 already leaked online in some form — everything except Song of the Sea and Glen Campbell: I’ll Be Me.

But only 36% of those were leaked from screeners, down from a high of 89% in 2003 and 2004.

With the caveat that there’s a month left before the Oscar ceremony, the chart below shows the percentage of screeners that have leaked online by Oscar night since 2003.

What the MPAA Thinks Is Leaking

Percentage of screeners copies that leaked before Oscar night

Seems to be trending downward, right? The Academy must finally be winning the war against piracy! Huzzah!

Not so fast.

Here’s the percentage of films that have leaked in any high-quality format — whether ripped from the web, pay-per-view, retail or screeners — before Oscar night.

What’s Actually Leaking

Percentage of films available in high-quality format online before Oscar night. Note: The 2015 percentage will almost certainly go up before Oscar night.



Already, with a month to go before the ceremony, 92% of this year’s nominated films have already leaked in DVD or higher quality, more than last year. (Inevitably, this number will rise in the days leading up to the ceremony.)

The big change: A staggering 44% of this year’s crop of nominees leaked as a high-quality rip from some source outside of traditional screeners or retail releases — the highest percentage since I started tracking films in 2003.

The insatiable appetite for HD video led pirate groups to find new pipelines for sharing films before they even reach voters’ mailboxes, and in much better quality. These new sources for HD leaks, lurking anywhere from mastering studios to the mailroom, may be much harder for the MPAA to find than leaks from their own members.

Pirates are now watching films at higher quality than the industry insiders voting on them.

The industry’s reliance on DVDs for review copies, combined with their insistence on watermarks and other irritating security measures, made them undesirable in an HD world.

But the studios may not have a choice. Academy voters are an older crowd — the average age is 63 — who may not own Blu-ray players or be comfortable watching screeners online. If studios want their films viewed, they’re stuck stuffing DVDs in envelopes.

Eventually, the industry will need to adapt to digital distribution as DVDs die along with the oldest generation of voters.

Until then, Academy voters hoping to review HD films at home will have to do like the pirates do — grab some popcorn, turn down the lights, and fire up BitTorrent.

Notes on Methodology

For my spreadsheet, I include the full-length feature films in every Oscar category except documentary and foreign films — even music, makeup, and costume design.

I use IMDB for the release dates, always using the first available U.S. date, even if it was a limited release.

All the leak dates are taken from VCD Quality, supplemented by dates in ORLYDB. I always use the first leak date, excluding unviewable or incomplete nuked releases.

The official screener release dates are from Academy member Ken Rudolph, who kindly lists the dates he receives each screener on his personal homepage.

Questions, corrections, or additions? You can find me on Twitter.

(Note: I originally posted this article to The Message on Medium.)

Block With Abandon

Last week, my friend Jessamyn rounded up a list of Internet Resolutions from the writers of The Message, the blog/zine/thing I contribute to on Medium.

I don’t normally make New Year’s Resolutions, online or off, but I made an exception this year. Here’s mine:

“Block with abandon. I spent far too many emotional cycles last year on people arguing with me in bad faith, diving into arguments that could never be won. At some point, I stopped arguing and started blocking. I blocked hundreds of randos who insulted me or threatened people I admire— sea lions sauntering their way into my attention — and turned the Internet into something I could love again. Never. Again.”

As of today, I’ve blocked 603 accounts, the vast majority of those in the last three months.

Last month, I threw a Lazyweb request out into the ether:

Within seconds, Phil Renaud replied:

A few days later, he delivered Twitter Quicker Blocker, a Chrome add-on that does one thing beautifully: it turns blocking into a one-click process from the Twitter website. (Two weeks later, Brian Henriquez made his own as a learning exercise.)

Here’s what that looks like:

For me, this was enough to make Twitter usable again. For those facing heavier abuse and harassment, tools like Block Together, GG Auto Blocker, and The Block Bot are out there.

Ideally, Twitter would provide better tools for managing your experience and coping with Internet assholes, but until then, I’m grateful to all the devs trying to make things better.

Playing With My Son

There’s a classic Steve Martin bit from A Wild and Crazy Guy…

“I got a great dirty trick you can play on a three-year-old kid… Whenever you’re around him, talk wrong. So now it’s like his first day in school and he raises his hand, ‘May I mambo dogface to the banana patch?’”

I’m not sure if it’s a great idea to take parenting advice from 1970s standup albums, but this always made sense to me.

If you have a kid, why not run experiments on them? It’s like running experiments on a little clone of yourself! And almost always probably legal.

It’s disappointing how many people have children and miss this golden opportunity, usually waiting until they’re in their teens to start playing mindgames with them.

Before my son was born in 2004, I was prepared. I’d brainstormed a long list of sociological and psychological experiments with friends and coworkers, ready to unleash my inner Milgram on my unborn offspring.

My original plan was to raise him thinking he was living in a computer simulation, but sadly, my wife vetoed it. And any other potentially harmful, but funny, life-altering scenarios.

But I managed to sneak one in anyway.


I was born in 1977 — the same year the Atari 2600 was released and a year before Space Invaders. I was lucky enough to be born into the golden age of arcade gaming, and played through each subsequent generation as I grew up.

My son Eliot was born in 2004 — the year of Half-Life 2, Doom 3, and the launch of the Nintendo DS. By the time he was born, video games were a $26B industry.

I love games, and I genuinely wanted Eliot to love and appreciate them too. So, here was my experiment:

What happens when a 21st-century kid plays through video game history in chronological order?

Start with the arcade classics and Atari 2600, from Asteroids to Zaxxon. After a year, move on to the 8-bit era with the NES and Sega classics. The next year, the SNES, Game Boy, and classic PC adventure games. Then the PlayStation and N64, Xbox and GBA, and so on until we’re caught up with the modern era of gaming.

Would that child better appreciate modern independent games that don’t have the budgets of AAA monstrosities like Destiny and Call of Duty? Would they appreciate the retro aesthetic, or just think it looks crappy?

Or would they just grow up thinking that video game technology moved at a breakneck speed when they were kids, and slammed to a halt as soon as they hit adolescence?


On Eliot’s fourth birthday, I started him with a Pac-Man plug-and-play TV game loaded with arcade classics — Galaxian (1979), Rally-X (1980), Bosconian (1981), Dig Dug (1982), and of course, Pac-Man (1980) and three sequels, Super Pac-Man (1982), Pac-Man Plus (1982), and Pac & Pal (1983).

Until the moment he picked up the joystick, part of me secretly dreaded he’d have no interest in it.

In the days leading up to his birth, I’d jolt awake in a cold sweat from nightmares of raising a six-year-old athlete, begging me to go outside to play football or baseball or some other dreaded physical activity.

Crisis averted.

He got better quickly. Six weeks later, he was beating my high scores in Dig Dug and regularly getting to higher stages of Pac-Man and its sequels.

I picked up another plug-and-play TV game — Ms. Pac-Man, Galaga, Mappy, Pole Position, and Xevious — and we played through the games together.

When we got bored of those, we hooked up my old Atari 2600, and we played through my collection of lo-fi gems like Asteroids, Kaboom!, Adventure, Combat, and (yes) E.T., but most didn’t hold up well.

It was time to move on to the next generation.


Four months into the experiment, with Eliot not even 4 1/2 years old, we’d jumped to the 8-bit era.

I loaded up an emulator and we started working our way through the NES canon.

At first, he sat on my lap and we took turns playing. Usually, he’d take the controls, but I’d step in for the tricky parts.

By age 5, he could beat some parts of moderately-difficult platformers like Super Mario 3.

By age 6, he was beating entire games on his own. He finished The Legend of Zelda on his own, and then finished the very difficult second quest with some mapping assistance.

We’d finished Super Mario Bros. 1-3, Mega Man 1–6, Castlevania 1–3, Rygar, Contra, and Duck Tales.

It was time to level up again.


I never owned a Super Nintendo or Nintendo 64 — I’d moved on to PC gaming by then — so many of these games were new to me.

We played through Link to the Past and Super Mario World, and discovered some lesser-known gems together that became all-time favorites.

By the beginning of 2011, we’d moved on to the N64. The beginning of the 3D era on consoles didn’t age well in my eyes, but Eliot didn’t seem to mind. We beat the brilliant Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask, and fell in love with the criminally underrated Rocket: Robot on Wheels.

By the time he turned seven, Eliot had collected every star in Super Mario 64.

After that, we skipped straight to the 2000s. On the PlayStation 2, we played through ICO, Shadow of the Colossus, and the original Katamari Damacy, released the year he was born.

The experiment was complete.


This approach to widely surveying classic games clearly had an impact on him, and influenced the games that he likes now.

Like seemingly every kid his age, he loves Minecraft. No surprises there.

But he also loves brutally difficult games that challenge gamers 2–3 times his age, and he’s frighteningly good at them. His favorites usually borrow characteristics from roguelikes: procedurally-generated levels, permanent death, no save points.

One of his favorite games is Spelunky, easily one of the most difficult games I’ve ever played. Paste Magazine called it “a game with ‘hard’ carved into its very being.” I’ve never beaten it. I will probably never beat it.

A month after his eighth birthday, he beat Spelunky on his own.

But Spelunky isn’t like other games. Eliot may have beaten the game, but there’s a second, much harder ending — by going to Hell.

Tom Francis explains:

“To complete Spelunky, you just have to survive 15 randomly generated levels and then trick the final boss into killing itself. To get to hell, though, you have to perform a series of specific rituals in a specific order, using unique objects that crop up in different places each time, and then defeat the boss in a particularly audacious way to use his death as a stepping stone to the underworld.”

It’s one of the most difficult feats in gaming. I only know a couple people who have done it. For Tom Francis, it was “the hardest thing I’ve ever managed in a video game… It only took 41 minutes, but it took me hundreds of hours of play — and about 3,000 deaths — to learn how to do those 41 minutes.”

Three months ago, Eliot beat Spelunky the hard way. The game’s creator, Derek Yu, thinks he may be the youngest person to have done it.

After beating Spelunky, Eliot was ready for a new challenge. He asked me to buy him a new game he found through YouTube — Nuclear Throne, Vlambeer’s action roguelike-like known for its relentless difficulty. A week later:

Nuclear Throne, like many indie games developed by a tiny team, has a very old-school aesthetic.

And this, for me, is the most interesting impact of the experiment.

Eliot’s early exposure to games with limited graphics inoculated him from the flashy, hyper-realistic graphics found in today’s AAA games. He can appreciate retro graphics on its own terms, and focus on the gameplay.

The lo-fi graphics in games like VVVVVV, FTL, or Cave Story might turn off other kids his age, but like me, he’s drawn to them.

My hope is that this experiment instilled a life-long appreciation for smaller, weirder, more intimate games in him.


So I gave my son a crash course in video game history, compressing 25 years of gaming history into about four years.

At this point, you’re probably either thinking I’m a monster or a pretty awesome dad. Maybe a little of both.

That’s okay with me. My son is amazing, he loves video games, and more than anything, he loves playing them with me.

Ready, player two?

It’s about ethics in video game parenting.

I first published this post in December 2014, as part of The Message, a publication on Medium.

Six months later, I spoke about it in front of an audience at GEL, a conference in New York City.

Black Lives Matter

Jay Smooth’s new The Illipsis video for Fusion on rioting in Ferguson was so powerful a debunking of a common racist trope, I felt compelled to transcribe it in the hopes more people would read it, quote it, and pass it on.

Take it away, Jay.

Jay Smooth:

So, I want to talk for a minute about human beings and about riots.

This past Monday night, while we were all sitting there waiting for that blow that we all knew was coming and hoping that we might be wrong just this one time, I said on Twitter that, “The fundamental danger of a non-indictment is not more riots, it is more Darren Wilsons.”

That thought struck a chord with a lot of people; it was linked to more than any tweet that I’ve ever made. But later on that night, we saw some things happen in Ferguson. We saw some unrest, we saw things you could call rioting.

And when that happened, a bunch of other people on Twitter were delighted by the idea that that heartache and grief and rage gave them a social media “gotcha” moment.

“So who’s the real danger now, Mr. Social Justice Warrior? You see all those thugs out there? You see how you people act? What do you have to say now?”

Well, here’s what I think now: I believe what I said. Now, more than ever.

And if you think what happened on Monday disproves what I said, you didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I wasn’t happy at all about what happened Monday night. I hate to see people pushed that far. I hate to see people’s community, family businesses destroyed. I hated seeing that.

But I’m also clear that if you ask me to weigh one against the other, we are weighing the destruction of property against the loss of a life. And if you value some people’s property more than the life of a black child, we’re not on the same team.

And regardless of that, for us to even discuss caring about one or the other is presenting a false choice because they’re not in opposition to each other. One is a byproduct of the other.

That unrest we saw Monday night was a byproduct of the injustice that preceded it.

This is not a choice, this is a cause-and-effect relationship. If you’re worried about the effects, you need to be thinking about the cause.

Riots are a thing that human beings do because human beings have limits.

We don’t all have the same limits. For some of us, our human limit is when our favorite team loses a game. For some of us, it’s when our favorite team wins a game.

The people of Ferguson had a different limit than that.

For the people of Ferguson, a lifetime of neglect and de facto segregation and incompetence and mistreatment by every level of government was not their limit.

When that maligned neglect set the stage for one of their children to be shot down and left in the street like a piece of trash, that was not their limit.

For the people of Ferguson, spending 100 days almost entirely peacefully protesting for some measure of justice for that child and having their desire for justice treated like a joke by every local authority was not their limit.

And then after those 100 days, when the so-called “prosecutor” waited until the dead of night to come out and twist that knife one last time, when he came out and confirmed once and for all that Michael Brown’s life didn’t matter, only then did the people of Ferguson reach their limit.

So when you look at what happened Monday night, the question you should be asking is how did these human beings last that long before they reached their human limit?

How do black people in America retain such a deep well of humanity that they can be pushed so far again and again without reaching their human limit?

How do we keep going through this same cycle? Because that’s the thing, it’s not just these 100 days. It’s the 100 times this cycle played out before Michael Brown.

The thing about that tweet I sent out Monday night? That tweet wasn’t really from Monday night.

I made the exact same tweet a year and a half ago about Trayvon Martin. The exact same tweet, word for word, all I did was switch out the name.

And that’s how sick, that’s how predictable and sick this white supremacy Groundhog Day is that we live in. You can literally, word for word, have the exact same conversation, year after year, and just switch out the name of the black child we lost.

There is nothing more exhausting or more inhumane than black America’s eternal cycle of being shocked but not surprised.

When you have to go through your whole life with all your muscles tensed, waiting for the same blow to come again and again, knowing it will hurt a bit more each time precisely because you always know it’s coming. And then you have to teach your children how to go through the same cycle.

That’s the definition of torture. Those are not fit living conditions for a human being.

So when I see President Obama say he has “no sympathy” for people who destroy a car? I’m sorry, but I do have sympathy for them.

I’m not happy to see them doing it, but human beings have limits.

When I watch that footage of Michael Brown’s mother out there crushed and heartbroken and I see her family talk about burning this thing down, I’m not happy to see that, but I don’t think we should be making excuses for that. I don’t think we should be explaining that away.

I don’t think there’s anything to be ashamed of. That is real life. That is what happens when you treat human beings this way.

So if you hated what you saw on Monday night, if you hated seeing those human beings pushed past their limit, you need to do something about the government, the justice system, and the institutions of policing that do not treat them like human beings.

If you watched the news Monday night and didn’t like the effects, you need to do something about the cause.

You, I, we need to go out there and make this country into a place where black lives matter.

Liked this? Go follow Jay Smooth on Twitter and go watch everything he’s ever made. It’s time well-spent.

Too Many Cooks

Tucked quietly into the 4am slot, Adult Swim occasionally broadcasts a segment listed simply as “Infomercials.” Most of these have been parodies of late-night infomercials, but for the last week, they’ve aired something a little different.

Have you ever watched something, and knew as it unfolded that you were witnessing the birth of a cult classic?

Please allow me to introduce you to everyone’s favorite late ’80s sitcom, Too Many Cooks:

Finished? Good.

Some things you might have missed (spoilers):

  • The credits appearing over each character are their real names. The IMDB page is suitably nuts.
  • If you slow the end credits, nearly every character’s last name is “Cook.” Also spotted: Cooke, Van Cook, O’Cook, McCook, Bake, Broil, and B6-12.
  • The stalker, credited as “Bill” on IMDB and “Featuring William Tokarsky” in the credits, appears in the background many, many, many times before he’s officially introduced. Watch it again.
  • Hardest to spot? The serial killer appears in a background oil painting.
  • Lars von Trier as “Pie,” who has his own badge.
  • The dad, Ken DeLozier, is the patient infected with “Intronitis.” His face is replaced by William Tokarsky’s as soon as the final photo’s taken.
  • Katelyn Nacon aka “Chloe Cook” is the teen daughter introduced third. She’s introduced again around the dinner table, and looks bored to tears.
  • The magazine read by both grandmas is called “Magazine: The Magazine.” The cover promises “Pages Inside” with words and paper.
  • The creator, Casper Kelly, also writes Your Pretty Face Is Going to Hell, a live-action workplace comedy set in Hell.
  • Vulture and EW both interviewed Kelly about the film, which was in post-production for over a year, and they did a Reddit AMA.

Like meta-TV intro credits humor? You may also enjoy this inferior One for the Road, a MadTV sketch with a similar starting premise, USB’s Hart and Home, and Adam Scott’s The Greatest Event in Television History series.

Rush Coil released a ridiculously great chiptune cover:

72 Hours of #Gamergate

Two months ago today, actor Adam Baldwin was the first to use the #Gamergate hashtag on Twitter, solidifying a name for the movement that’s dominated all conversations in gaming since. Depending on where you sit on the issue, it’s either a widespread campaign of harassment against women or, actually, about ethics in videogames journalism.

Anyone who’s mentioned the #Gamergate hashtag in a critical light knows the feeling: a swarm of seemingly random, largely-anonymous people descending to comment and criticize.

I’ve been using Twitter for eight years, but I’ve never seen behavior quite like this. This swarming behavior is so prevalent, it got a new nickname — “sea lioning,” inspired by David Malki’s Wondermark comic.

I wanted to understand #Gamergate, how its proponents and critics behaved and the composition of both audiences.

So I wrote a little Python script with the Twython wrapper for the Twitter streaming API, and started capturing every single tweet that mentioned the #Gamergate and #NotYourShield hashtags from October 21–23.

Three days later, I was sitting on 316,669 tweets, along with a bunch of metadata for trying to understand the composition of both sides of the #Gamergate movement.

Why three days? It was a manageable and consistent slice of activity, taken at a time when the hashtag wasn’t trending and no major news was breaking, reducing the number of confused newcomers, bots, spammers, and other opportunists.

Hourly posting activity for #Gamergate/#NotYourShield. Times in UTC.



In the process of collecting the data, I posted a couple innocuous charts on Twitter and was predictably flooded with critical comments, many questioning my motives.

Without question, I have a strong anti-Gamergate bias. I co-organize a festival called XOXO that invited two frequent #Gamergate targets to speak, Anita Sarkeesian and Leigh Alexander. I backed Anita’s project, and I think they both do great work. I’m also friends or acquaintances with a few dozen independent game designers, developers, and journalists, most of whom have come out publicly against Gamergate. I think the whole thing’s pretty awful, and that it has critically wounded the public perception of videogames.

That said, I think the numbers below accurately and objectively reflect the data, and the analysis I’m doing is very straightforward. You could reproduce everything with a copy of Excel or Numbers.app. I included a dump of the complete dataset at the end of this post, and I encourage you to double-check my work.


Most of the posting activity to #Gamergate and #NotYourShield is retweets. (From here on, I’ll refer to both hashtags as just “#Gamergate” for readability’s sake.)

Out of 316,669 total tweets, 217,384 of them (about 69%) were retweets.

The remaining 99,285 (31%) were original tweets— 46,826 weren’t directed to anyone, 39,622 replied directly to another user, and 12,837 publicly mentioned one or more users.

In total, 38,630 user accounts posted to the two hashtags in those three days. Excluding retweets, that number drops down to 17,410 users.

With that out of the way, let’s look at who’s posting to #Gamergate.

Account Age

Gamergate is unusual in one respect: many of its proponents are using newly-created, often pseudonymous, accounts.

The chart below shows every tweet charted by the month that user signed up for Twitter.

#Gamergate tweets charted by month of account creation


Roughly 25% of all Gamergate activity is coming from accounts created in the last two months.

To be clear, I’m not suggesting these accounts are bots or sockpuppets — one person controlling multiple accounts — but simply that these accounts are new to Twitter.

As Gamergate supporters were quick to point out, many of them joined Twitter simply because that’s where the debate was. Some created anonymous accounts to avoid being tracked and identified, while others joined only after being turned away from other forums.

Is this distribution unusual, though? For contrast, I tried another hashtag for a similar length of time, the #kashmirfloods hashtag used during last month’s tragic floods that ravaged northern India. The distribution is much closer to what you’d expect: evenly distributed, roughly following Twitter’s rise in popularity.

The Retweet Network

As you’d expect, there are two large communities contributing to the #Gamergate hashtag, and who they choose to follow and retweet are very, very different with little overlap.

There’s little overlap between communities.

For example, in this three day period, 1,673 users retweeted Anita Sarkeesian, while 2,240 users retweeted Blocker (aka Mr. Fart), one of the most prolific Gamergate tweeters. (Yes, the most retweeted person in #Gamergate is named “Mr. Fart.”) But only 79 users retweeted messages from both accounts.

Contrast that with the 1,138 users that retweeted messages from both Blocker and Gamergate proponent Milo Yiannopoulos in the same time period.

The top RTed users are pro-GG, the top RTed tweets are against.

The list of most retweeted users is dominated by Gamergate proponents, with only a couple critics in the top 20. Former NFL player and gamer Chris Kluwe pops up in #2 after a string of popular anti-Gamergate rants, but even Anita Sarkeesian only appears in 15th place.

The most retweeted tweets, however, look very different. The top 10 is entirely Gamergate critics and satire, with only five pro-Gamergate tweets in the top 20.

Why would that be? One obvious reason is the sheer number of #gamergate-tagged tweets being posted by supporters, while critics tend to post far fewer, possibly to avoid getting sea lioned.

Gamergate supporters use the #gamergate hashtag more often.

For example, the top five most-retweeted Gamergate critics collectively had 87 of their #gamergate-tagged tweets retweeted within the three day period. The top five Gamergate proponents had 811 tweets, nearly ten times as many.

Averaging Gamergate

We can use retweet behavior as a rough proxy to group like-minded individuals together. As we’ve established, those who retweet Anita Sarkeesian, Brianna Wu, and Zoe Quinn tend to fall in the opposing camp of those who retweet Milo Yiannopoulos, Internet Aristocrat, or Christina H. Sommers.

I grouped together the 3,022 accounts who retweeted Milo Yiannopoulos, Internet Aristocrat, or Christina H. Sommers, and the 1,694 who retweeted Anita Sarkeesian, Brianna Wu, and Zoe Quinn. With that, we can draw some rough demographics for Twitter usage.

The median Gamergate supporter has 67 followers, follows 134 accounts, has posted 1,194 tweets, and joined Twitter a little over two years ago.

The median Gamergate critic has 144 followers, follows 234 accounts, has posted 3,765 tweets, and joined Twitter four years and three months ago.

Naturally, this is skewed by the large population of relatively newly-created Gamergate accounts.

Gauging Sentiment

On Saturday, Newsweek partnered with a social media monitoring firm called Brandwatch to publish their own analysis of the Gamergate hashtag using half a million tweets sampled from September 1.

They ran sentiment analysis on tweets directed to several prominent Gamergate critics, and found across the board that around 90% of the tweets were “neutral.”

Newsweek interpreted this to mean the tweets were neither positive or negative, but I’m fairly sure Brandwatch simply meant they couldn’t make an automated determination for 90% of tweets — sentiment analysis using less than 140 characters can be challenging.

Digging into the actual text by hand, it’s clear that these tweets are anything but neutral.

In my three-day sample, there were 1,171 tweets that mentioned Anita Sarkeesian’s Twitter username, 485 for Brianna Wu, and 338 for Zoe Quinn. I put the text of all of those tweets, without user information, in this spreadsheet so you can see for yourself.

Roughly 90–95% take a clear side either in favor or against Gamergate.

A quick manual classification of a sample shows the numbers to be closer to 75% negative, 15% positive, and 10% neutral or undetermined, very far from Newsweek’s automated attempt. I’ve reached out to them to see if they’ll publish a clarification about renaming “neutral” to “undetermined.”

Update: Mike Williams, a data scientist at Brandwatch, confirmed that “neutral” should be “undetermined.” This morning, October 29, Newsweek published a clarification, but left the charts as they were, despite missing sentiment data for 90% of their tweets.

Worlds Apart

With the help of Gilad Lotan, chief data scientist at Betaworks, we grabbed the social graph for everyone in the dataset and visualized it using a fantastic open-source package called Gephi.

We used that information to map the universe of people who contributed to #Gamergate, clustering them into groups based on their relationships.

While there are hundreds of small communities represented by this visualization, it’s clear they group into two major groups: on the left, pro-Gamergate. On the right, anti-Gamergate. In the middle, a handful of controversial people engaging both sides. And on the margins, a constellation of isolated people unrelated and disengaged.

Each point is a single person in the #Gamergate universe, the lines connect who they follow. See a larger version with labels.



This network visualization is as good a metaphor as any for #Gamergate. Two massive, impenetrable hairballs of people that want little to do with one another, only listening to their side and firing volleys across the chasm.

Is it over yet?

The Data

Update: Originally, I was hosting complete downloads of the data here for anyone to play with, make their own visualizations, or simply fact-check my work.

Unfortunately, as it turns out, distributing the contents and metadata surrounding tweets is a violation of section 6b of Twitter’s Developer Policy. Twitter politely asked me to remove the downloads without sending lawyers, and I very much appreciate that approach.

My guess? This policy exists to protect the privacy of their users. Any downloadable dataset could include information that was subsequently deleted or made private by its owners, or removed by Twitter.

Pursuant to their guidelines, I’ve replaced the original dataset with a much more limited one, containing only the tweet ID and user ID. You can download it as a 9MB CSV or a 3MB ZIP.

I know this is far from ideal, but you can use this information to reconstruct the original dataset by using Twitter’s statuses/lookup API method, 100 tweets at a time. With their API rate limits, you should be able to grab up to 10,800 tweets an hour. Reconstructing the entire dataset would take around 29 hours.

Sorry, everyone.

(Note: This piece was originally published in The Message on Medium.)

Justin Hall at XOXO

We’re posting every XOXO talk on YouTube, one every weekday in speaker order, and we’re a little over halfway through. There’s some really amazing stuff in there already, it’s hard for me to even pick favorites. Jonathan Mann and Gina Trapani are personal highlights.

The most popular talk we’ve ever had, by a decent margin, is Anita Sarkeesian talking about the tactics used by sexist jerks to discredit her and other women online. Go watch it. There’s an interesting behind-the-scenes story there, but maybe another time.

I just posted Justin Hall’s talk today, and it’s pretty great.

When he gets onstage, you can see he’s visibly shaken. That’s my fault. Before I introduced him to the stage, I told the audience that his site was the inspiration for teaching myself HTML in 1995. I told him I’d followed his life online for over 20 years, he opened my eyes to ways of using the web I’d never considered, and that he deeply influenced the way I thought about technology.

I made Justin Hall cry. And then we cut out my intro from the video, making him look like a big crybaby. Whoops!

There’s so much I love about Justin’s talk.

In 1995, starting at age 19, he started spilling the most intimate details of his life online, from his father’s suicide, the drugs he was taking, and the interactions he was having with friends, family, lovers, and long-time partners.

He wanted everyone to experience this, so spread the word in person and on TV and on roadtrips, an evangelist for the web as a personal communications medium. A Johnny Appleseed for HTML, trying to use technology to generate empathy.

It didn’t play out quite like he expected.

It takes a profound sense of self-awareness to realize the flaws in your deepest-held beliefs, talk about them publicly, and do the work to fix them.

“We’re all scientists of our own lives. We’re all constantly running experiments, every day. And what the web allows us to do is to share our data. What are we learning about our experiments, about what it means to be a good person and be connected?

We can use the web to share those truths with each other and evolve them, because we don’t know!

Let’s learn together until we’re dead.”

Sounds good to me.

Gamergate Is Running Out of Heroes

If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve probably gleaned how I feel about Gamergate. I’m not even going to attempt to summarize it—this covers it pretty well.

When 4chan started banning every Gamergate-related thread from its videogame forum, the infuriated gamers fled to 8chan (aka ∞chan), a year-old spinoff with its own unique origin story. Gamergate was welcomed with open arms. (I’m guessing Moot wasn’t heartbroken to lose their business.)

So, I know this is a cheap thrill, but I find it incredibly satisfying to read threads on 8chan from Gamergate supporters mourning all their fallen heroes.

We got a taste of this early on with the ultra-savvy geek icons like Joss Whedon and Tim Schafer coming out publicly in support of Anita Sarkeesian, followed by waves of rage and hand-wringing.

But as Gamergate continues to grow, and its accompanying campaign of harassment escalates, more and more artists, writers, and critics are publicly taking a stand against it.

That’s led to a lot of disappointment and frustration from pro-Gamergate supporters mourning the betrayal of their heroes, as they disappear one by one into their Social Justice blacklists.

For someone who’s sick of the abuse, these 8chan threads are pure schadenfreude:

One: https://archive.today/JASOw

Two: https://archive.today/xnFKy

Among the fallen heroes mentioned: Patton Oswalt, Seth Rogen, Felicia Day, William Gibson, Tim Schafer, cartoonist Mariel Cartwright, Joss Whedon, writer Greg Rucka, Wil Wheaton, writer Jim Sterling, John Scalzi, Adam Sessler, Jon Stewart, and the creators of Raspberry Pi, who came out forcefully against #gamergate.

When prompted for alternatives to their lost idols, a handful of names are mentioned, but only those who have remained silent on the issue. Their best hope is that the silent are secretly on their side, since nobody else creating stuff seems to be. They mention Giant Bomb’s Jeff Gerstmann, and the artists behind the Oglaf and Nedroid comics as possible supporters.

I wondered aloud on Twitter if their silence actually meant their support. Anthony from Nedroid immediately replied:

Oglaf’s Trudy Cooper replied later that night:

This morning, Jeff Gerstmann posted a strong statement against Gamergate in an editor’s letter on Giant Bomb:

So when “GamerGate” rose up to cover over a campaign of harassment with a veneer of concern for the ethics of games journalism, it more or less set off every single disgust alarm I have. Though I’m sure some good people have been roped into this mess under this guise, the ethical concern portion of all this is largely a farce, a fallacy.

Cross those three off the idols list, I guess.

Towards the end of the thread, one commenter summed it up, “We have to accept that pretty much the entirety of western society has turned against us and chugged kool-aid like crazy.”

I’ve said it before—creating something new and putting it online is an act of bravery, and it exposes you to a tremendous amount of criticism. At any level of popularity, you deal with kneejerk contrarians, self-entitled fans, and anonymous haters—the bread and butter of the Gamergate movement.

It’s not too surprising that they’re having a hard time winning their heroes over to their side.

Middling

Twitter’s for 140-character short-form writing and Medium’s for long-form. Weirdly, there really isn’t a great platform for everything in the middle — what previously would’ve just been called “blogging.” Mid-length blogging. Middling.

I think that’s partly why seeing Matt Haughey, Paul Ford, and Michael Sippey restart regular blogging on Paul’s delightfully retro tilde.club is so refreshing to me. I miss seeing people I admire post stuff longer than a tweet.

So I think I’ll try doing the same thing here. In the early days of Waxy.org, before I launched the linkblog, I used to blog short posts constantly. Multiple times a day. Twitter and Waxy Links cannibalized all the smaller posts, and as my reach grew, I started reserving blogging for more “serious” stuff — mostly longer-form research and investigative writing.

Well, fuck that. I miss the casual spontaneity of it all, and since I’m pretty sure hardly anybody’s reading my site again after the death of Google Reader, the pressure’s off.

What do I have to lose?

Update: Nice, Gina Trapani’s in too.