Annals of Duplo 10 Year Anniversary - The Meme and the Antimeme

This month marks the 10 year anniversary of the Annals of Duplo blog.  The blog began in December 2007 with the purpose of chronicling the evolution of Nod Gods and Duplo - respectively viewable as a meme vs. an antimeme.  But is this a cause for celebration... or cerebration?

To summarise, Nod Gods - originally just Nods - were primitive, almost malformed, doodles with inscrutable expressions.  It's fair to say that these Nods lacked the confident expressive potency of other general doodleforms prevalent across primary schools in the early 1990s (e.g. the rave smileyface).  To afford them greater esteem in such a gung-ho visual culture, the Nods were flippantly bestowed with the 'God' appellation.  But by merely contemplating their status in this way, the "self-esteem" and sentience of the Nod Gods roared into the foreground; these now became entities with potentially injurable - and inflatable - egos.  In addition, emergent computer graphics technologies allowed them to be considered as virtual beings.  Foolishly in hindsight, they acquired higher dimensionality in the light of all this.  Further doodling sought to provide Nod Gods with vehicular support, weaponry and mechanical means of expression.

Duplo, meanwhile, was an initiative set up years later at secondary school - also in the realm of doodles - to stymy the ubiquity of the Nod Gods that were beginning to infiltrate (via impulsive inkmanship) into school exercise books and even further: to school textbooks and furniture (detentionable offences).  Several school friends were implicated in all this, but are now too embarrassed to talk coherently about it.  It also did not help matters that when Nod Gods were irresistibly introduced into schoolwork (as with the topical 'title page' assignments given at each new semester, as shown below), teachers often lavished praise upon the results.

Duplo was led by the cod-fascist Duplo Officer and his several clones, and imaginations were given free rein to develop the most outlandish mechanisms to regain control of the errant Nod Gods and minimise their mischiefs.

One of the necessary qualities of an antimeme is overwrought complexity, ensuring ideas cannot easily spread.  Duplo, then, attempted to overcomplicate the memeish Nod Gods into non-transmissible nonsense.  Despite the fact that the inter-doodle warfare between Duplo and Nods itself provided regular feasts of mind-drama, this overcomplicating essence of Duplo - replete with fictitious bureaucracies - did indeed dilute the fixation upon Nod Gods over time.  Whether the Duplo-implicated school friends also felt this, or simply drifted towards the 'done thing' of adolescence and its distraction from abstraction, I cannot say for certain.  All I can say is that as a result I am now solitary custodian to a vast, elaborate, sprawling antimeme-engulfed-meme that exists only in my mind, quarantined from all outside scrutiny.  I do, however, still possess the Duplo archive, some of which was accessioned at the time from those schoolmates, relinquishing their ink-conjurations with laboured affectations of cool "maturity".  Such documents provide proof of doodleform power, and possibly - if viewed in a certain frame of mind - could reactivate at some point, in some person.... requiring antimeme counterdoodle measures.

Stopped by the Police for 'Bin Diving' (aka Cauldron Demixing, aka Cultural Diagnostics)

Obviously, in order to continue my Duplo work in the absence of any money, it is necessary to take the initiative to rescue papers, stationery, and miscellaneous concepts (either physically embodied or mentally suggested) from those fonts of inspiration - trade waste bins.  Plucky sirs and ma'ams - and yes, these respectful titles DESERVEDLY apply to any foragers of consumerist overspill - routinely pick through the containers (and I've met many such personages) bravely rescuing, recycling or reselling goods destined for landfill.  Motives may differ, but the overall arc of intent tends towards the ethically brilliant, the admirably thrifty and the heroically inventive.  My own motives are fused with occult experiments in dismantling acts of modern day witchcraft (particularly prevalent with charity shop volunteers) as described previously.  It seems strange, but witchcraft - or some modern variant of divination - is often the only way to account for some of the desecrations I've seen: objects still loaded with use-value placed alongside other such objects, interspersed with needless and gratuitous muck.

Today, somebody decided to call the police...  Some low-life "pillar-of-the-community" scum-sucking cradle of dysentery, no doubt.  Evidently their vision had been offended.  Or perhaps they peevishly saw their own cauldron of consumer witchcraft being picked apart, and their petty spells diffused into nothingness.  Ha ha!  So much the better.  Next, on the scene arrives two policemen - in two separate cars - duty bound to interrogate me, whereupon I dispensed all personal details ranging from the exact duration of my earthly existence so far, to the direction of the 'grain' on my scrotum.  The scene dragged on for an unseemly long time, ruining the bin-diving schedule.  I do not yet know what the outcome of this encounter will be, but if further criminations follow, I can only up the ante and state that my responsibilities as arbitrator between the thought-world and reality (that is, the essence of Duplo and its doodle skirmishes, now often sculptural too) outweigh any obligations to be shepherded by manifest evil.  The ethical aspects of interrupting the stream of wastage must also surely demolish any such statutory laws, absurd by-laws, and sickening, insulting travesties of interpretations of the Public Order Act.

Again, I can only decry the good-for-nothing, moronic, haughty yokel who, in his/her tiny brain thought that calling the police was an acceptable act when presented with such blatant (yet tragically unregistered) heroism.  I'm employed by both Duplo and the Nod Gods to scour the lands for the conceptual nourishment of this doodlecraft continuation.  My rewards are mental.  At the same time, I observe, counteract and deconstruct obvious acts of witchcraft - the fruits of my labours here will be of benefit to future generations (hopefully).

After informing the policemen that I possess a document from the management of the particular squandering effusionists in question giving me express permission to continue my work, I now realise that this document relates to another shop, and also addresses me by one of several pseudonyms I use, and is thus legally valueless.  I have mislaid it anyway.  "We'll be in contact," they said.  I wonder what on earth they can do?  The location in question is on a public right-of-way.  The wastage is some of the worst I've ever seen.  I hereby call upon the Nod Gods themselves and other thought-forces within the arc of common-sense to demolish this preposterous apparatus of bovine wrath that has leaked its toxic dribble upon me today.

Duplo and the Third Dimension - Part Two

This posting forms the belated sequel to 'Duplo and the Third Dimension - Part One', posted in November 2011.  It feels that only a matter of days have passed since penning that blog post (perceptions of time are all relative, and it's nothing to be embarrassed about).  This blog charts the trajectory of doodlecraft emissions that gradually progressed through dimensionalities.  Duplo began as a mental oubliette to stow over-energetic doodleforms born of catharsis, its perimeters gradually vanishing until the doodleforms escaped... as we shall see.

A dot matrix Nod God - one of the earliest computerised renderings, c. 1994

For doodleforms to increase their dimensionality, a willing collusion is required on the part of the instigator; much as in hypnosis - the subject must be cooperative.  Nod Gods were freed from one-dimensional quarantine by gifts of cartoonish vehicular apparatus, providing manoeuvrability within the 2D world of exercise books and pocketable papers.  The challenge and creative problem-solving involved in the nourishing of doodleforms appealed to other classmates, as I described previously.  Duplo was a means to control doodleforms, but its spoiling-for-an-uprising, cod-fascist high-and-mightiness provided a good excuse to sketch elaborate battlefields of melodrama.  The progression to the next dimension - the 3D world - was occasioned by the use of computers in creating virtual worlds.  It was a natural transition, given that Nod Gods themselves partly derived from the culture of computer gaming.  Nod Gods, being spheroidal, were easily dolloped out in 3D rendering software.  In those pre-internet days, such software was gleaned from magazine cover CDs - Visual Reality 1.5 was seized upon, as its tagline promised something along the lines of an escape to a new world.  The Nod Gods' presence in the third dimension immediately heralded the tenancy of a 3D Duplo Officer, and numerous 3D Duplo/anti-Duplo machinations soon followed.

The Duplo Officer in glorious 3D

A short prehistory may be in order.  Arriving in the secondary school's First Year in 1993, myself and a friend decided to become librarians.  Library duties occupied our breaktimes - tasks included shelving books to the Dewey specifications, aligning chairs, and helping other people find things.  The appeal of librarianship lay partly in the avoidance of the dull tarmac playground.  The library seemed an ideal place to experimentalise doodlecraft.  Librarianship quickly lost its allure however when obnoxious older pupils began messing up shelves on purpose.  These hostilities became tiresome.  Furthermore, older jobsworth librarians would scupper any doodling activity by agitating us out from some perceived idleness - I was even physically barred from merely reading the library's monthly copy of 'CD-ROM Magazine'.

In the 1990s, it was distinctly unfashionable to be knowledgable in computers.  Secondary school offered BBC Micros, RM Nimbuses, and various IBM PCs running Windows 3.1.  Then, all of a sudden, Windows 95 machines swept all these away.  A big "fuck off" was gestured towards the library, and stewardship of the computer room beckoned.  Many of us still owned Commodore Amigas at home, and those of us who did were compelled to push our Amigas to perform like a Windows 95 PC - in my case this simply entailed displaying images imported from PCs and making pretend.  3D images were rendered on the PC and converted to Amiga IFF image format to distribute on 'Duplo disks'.

My ambitions to become a computer game developer have long since been dashed against the rocks on the shores of bewilderment, but throughout the 1990s I pursued these dreams in various attempts to create virtual simulations of life.  Whereas real-life actions tend to have consequences, these simulations - centred around school life - provided an arena for enactments not possible in real life.  The foremost of these self-built 'games' was Mount Viewpoint on the Amiga (examined previously the first part of 'Duplo and the Third Dimension'): set in primary school and its surrounding suburbs, all from within the Freescape 3D engine.  Freescape did not allow sphere shapes, alas.  Doodles and Duplo did not feature in this game owing to such representational limitations, but it facilitated both a mode of thinking in three dimensional terms, and presented a promised land: a 'middle-ground' between reality and imagination.

Mount Viewpoint had no ending or level completion strategy, but it was playable.  A PC successor to Mount Viewpoint was never completed in any playable state - it was called TBSHS: The Game, and was set at the titular acronymous secondary school.  I took measurements around school and noted down tile patterns and textures.  Location sounds were also recorded on dictaphone and sampled as wonky in-game noises.  By the year 2000, it had dawned on me that I was no longer at school.  Everybody I had known had stopped talking to me because they wanted girlfriends and newfangled poise, etc.  I digress...

TBSHS : The Game - An uncompleted PC sequel to Mount Viewpoint

To return to the matter of 3D...  TBSHS: The Game was notable for actual real-life 2D digitisations of teachers placed within a highly accurate reconstruction of the sprawling school environment.   This represented the pinnacle of a graphical flourish I habitually employed in 3D rendering software: placing 'real-world' 2D cut-outs in 3D worlds.

It cannot be stressed enough how mentally significant this was.  Maybe younger generations take such things for granted, but back in the mid-1990s, it was mindblowing.  Picture this: a sketch is drawn in an exercise book.  The sketch is then scanned and digitally cut-out.  PC-based 3D software is then used to build a scene for the sketch, it is then introduced and rotated to face the virtual camera.   The scene is subsequently rendered as an image, and lastly, downsampled and converted to an Amiga graphics format for slide-shows on Duplo disks, viewed on cathode ray televisions...  Televisions RF switchable between Amiga input or TV aerial.  The very same televisions we watched Noel's House Party, X-Files and Gamesmaster upon.

A sketched Duplo Officer placed within a virtual 3D environment

Despite the fact that these 3D images were only stills, they fired the imagination in a peculiar way.  And successive dimensions would soon fall within doodlecraft's demesne...

A custom Quake level for the PC was designed with Duplo Officers and Nod Gods, but like TBSHS: The Game, it does not seem to have survived data reshuffles over the years.