MATHEMATICS

Kamis, 27 Juli 2006

Get Famous By Not Programming

Here at Whiny Blog Central, we frequently receive email from Alert Readers who tell us: "THANKYOUSOMUCH for you're latest blogg entry! Youve saved my BABY from becomeing an evil manager or a VIM user or whatever! Heres a personal check for $500!" And we can appreciate that sentiment, although we wish it would come from people who realize holding the check up to their screen so the email program can "see" it doesn't actually send anything to me. To us, I mean. We mean.

It is nice to hear that some people like what you write, though, since anyone who does anything noteworthy in the world will have critics, and criticism can really sting, even if you have a thick skin, or even a cephalothorax like some bloggers out there. But then, the critics are often critical because your writing stung them in some way, so I guess it's an eye for an eye in this writing gig.

Almost Famous

Earlier this week, my coworkers and I were astonished and more than a little amused to hear that I'm one of the ten most famous programmers in the world. Yup. That was the rumor, anyway. (Some versions of the rumor even had the number right.)

See, this guy named Jarosław "sztywny" Rzeszótko (he also goes by "Stiff", even though it clearly contains a vowel right there in the middle) sent me a nice email about six weeks back, saying, well... here's exactly what he said. You be the judge:

Hello!

I'm an 18-years old programmer wannabe from Poland and I run a blog in my native language. As an interesting (at least to me) experiment I'm trying to ask some questions I always wanted to ask the programmers I admire most, but never had the occasion to do that... The question and answers would be later translated, and published in Polish on the weblog. If You don't have time, find the question stupid, whatever - just answer a part of them, or simply throw out the email and forget that I bothered You. So, here we go:

(10 questions)


Because his mail was nice (not to mention flattering) and his questions looked interesting, and also (I think mostly) because he'd offered to translate it into Polish, it piqued my curiosity. So I told him I'd give it my best shot, and answered them.

Jarosław's idea was brilliant, of course, and I see a lot of people are kicking themselves for not having thought of it. Because who knows how much goodwill he used up from the seven other actually famous people who responded. There may not be another chance like that one for a long time.

But he didn't tell any of us who the other interviewees were, nor did he set any expectations around how much to write in response. In retrospect it's somewhat amazing that he got eight replies, but it's certainly no surprise that they varied so much in their tone and level of detail. We didn't know what to write, nor who we were writing for.

Seven famous people, plus me. Pretty cool interview.

So how did I get in there? I haven't done anything amazing.
Wyvern's pretty cool, but you probably wouldn't know, since (a) it's mostly young teenagers playing it, for the most part, and (b) I haven't published most of the source code, since I'm frankly embarrassed to have anyone see how bad it is. The game only works as well as it does because I spent seven years of my life on it, NOT because I'm a great programmer, or even an especially good one.

So I'm guessing Stiff didn't really choose me for my programming ability. What could it be, then? HMMMmmmmm... I'll give you two guesses.

Yup, you got it, on the first try I'll bet: it's because I'm a damn loudmouth. We're all using the same media here in BlogLand, but my volume is turned way up. "Blah, blah, BLAH," I'm known to yell semi-incoherently. BlaaaaAAAAAahhh!!! Gets their attention every time.

You know how after you watch a new X-men movie, you come out afterwards and ask whoever watched it with you which superpower they'd want if they could be an X-, ah, -person? You do ask, right? C'mon, you do. I know you do! Everyone does. Which superpower would you pick? Invisibility? Flying? Unstoppable momentum? Walking through walls? Telekinesis?

Well I'll bet you a dollar you'd never have picked 'Loudmouth Jerk'. But I guess beggars can't be choosers.

In any case, evidently due to my loudmouth superpowers, I got to be in the list, and my friends laughed at me a lot, and that was that. But it was fun.

Thanks for including me, Jarosław!

Famous programming heroes

Do you have any programming heroes? I do! Oddly enough, though, I've never really seen much of their code. Most of the famous-ish programmers I respect have actually made their impact on me through writing, and it's usually just prose, with maybe a little code interspersed.

There are programmers I admire who've built things that I use a lot. But when I try to come up with a list of programmers I admire (and I specifically mean people I don't know personally), I find they almost always fall into one (or both) of just two categories:
  1. People who wrote a useful programming language, an operating system, or an especially important framework.

  2. People who wrote a really neat book about programming.

Any sufficiently flexible and programmable environment — say Emacs, or Ruby on Rails, or Firefox, or even my game Wyvern — begins to take on characteristics of both language and operating system as it grows. So I'm lumping together a big class of programs that have similar characteristics. I guess you could call them frameworks, or extensible systems.

I've developed a personal distaste for the word "framework" because it's used to describe so many technologies that are unbelievably cumbersome and overspecialized. You know which ones I mean. But realistically, framework might be the best word for the kind of system I'm talking about. Unlike libraries, frameworks are hard to learn and hard to reuse, so for any given framework you probably love it or hate it.

If someone builds a library that I find useful, I might notice their name, but I'm not likely to remember it or think of it when I think of great programmers. Ditto for most applications or utilities, even highly useful ones. I'm thankful, sure, but that's a far cry from eternally grateful.

But when someone builds a framework — any environment that we live in and actually enjoy programming in — and there's one person who's chiefly identifiable as the primary author of that framework, then I think we tend to admire that person, and unlike other programmers, the person starts to become famous.

Even if they're a crappy programmer.

Not that we'd really know, because how often do we go look at the source code for the frameworks we use? How much time have you spent examining the source code of your favorite programming language's compiler, interpreter or VM? And by the time such systems reach sufficient size and usefulness, how much of that code was actually penned by the original author?

Sure, we might go look at framework code sometimes. But it just looks like, well, code. There's usually nothing particularly famous-looking or even glamorous about it. Go look at the source code for Emacs or Rails or Python or Firefox, and it's just a big ball of code. In fact, often as not it's a big hairy ball, and the original author is focused on refactoring or even rewriting big sections of it.

I suppose an individual who manages to get a big system built and marketed and adopted by lots of people can't really be a crappy programmer, by definition. Some people (e.g. Richard Gabriel) have argued convincingly that writing crappy code has evolutionary advantages. I know it's easy to despise someone who's written obviously ugly, unmaintainable code. But our industry is still figuring out how to do software engineering properly, and a lot of very important code was written before modern software engineering ideas were widely disseminated.

And even then, sometimes the schedule just gets you. Given a choice between having significant impact by getting something out the door, and spending a bunch of time up front writing every line of code to be beautiful and high-performing and robust, which would you pick?

I'll pick impact. You can always fix the code later.

I know on my last project (at work), I wrote a lot of quick and dirty code. I mean, it's not terrible, not the kind of code that you'd fire someone for. We have coding conventions that I adhere to, and I tend to organize and document and refactor my code pretty conscientiously as I go, out of habit. But it's been this incredible six-month race to the finish, and I've made a lot of decisions out of expedience that I knew I'd have to revisit later, stuff I wouldn't exactly be proud to show off.

Anyone who looked at my real-life code, without knowing anything else about me, would probably conclude that I'm an ordinary programmer. And I'd guess that if you looked at random chunks of code from your favorite framework, written by your favorite programmer, you'd conclude that it had been written by mortals.

So what makes a programmer famous? Apparently not programming! Or at least not their actual code.

You can try the experiment yourself. I'm actually curious. Go through the list of programmers you admire most (people you don't know personally), and decide why you admire each of them.

I think you'll find the same thing I did: each person either wrote a framework you like, or they write about technical topics really well (or at least in a way that keeps you coming back for more.)

Get Rich By Not Programming, Too

Can programming make you rich? Well, let's figure it out: think of all the fantastically rich programmers you know. Not a very long list, is it? And did they get rich by virtue of being incredible programmers?

Tough question! In practice, virtually all the wealthy programmers you know (or even know of) got rich via startups. They were early employees at a company that became phenomenally successful, either through a public IPO or through a high-dollar acquisition.

Were these early-bird programmers great, or just lucky? It's not easy to separate the two, because their quality as programmers (however you choose to measure that) probably had at least some direct impact on the company's ultimate success. But some may have been average (or even bad) programmers who wound up in the right place at the right time. I know I've seen it happen. And some successful programmer-entrepreneurs might attribute their financial success to (their own) great programming ability, when it may be wholly due to their keen business acumen, or to their great decision-making and execution skills.

Most programmers aren't rich. It's a good job, no question, and it pays pretty well in most places. But most programmers are a far cry from "wealthy". Is it even possible to get rich by programming?

Sure, if you take a risky pay cut, and you pick the right product or service, and you bust your ass like nobody's business for at least 12 to 18 months, and you do a great job of marketing your product, and you find a buyer, and you do a great job of negotiating, and you get a little lucky. If all those things happen, you can get rich as a programmer.

But we didn't list "be a great programmer" or "write great code" in there anywhere, did we? They may not be essential ingredients. If your code just barely works, then it's good enough. A startup that manages to get acquired doesn't have to have had great code; they simply had to either establish a lead in a new market, or put on a damn good road show.

If not rich or famous, then what?

I've spent a lot of time thinking about improving my productivity, and advocating in my blogs that engineers should work to improve their own productivity, skill set, and knowledge base.

But what do those things really get me? Apparently it's not going to make me rich -- certainly not on its own, anyway. And it's not going to make me famous: a small amount of code (something that thousands of people could look at) isn't going to be impressive, and a large amount of code won't be digestible.

So why bother getting better?

Well, there's personal satisfaction, I guess. It does feel nice to be able to crank through stuff quickly. It feels related to why I prefer biking to running -- the scenery changes faster. But if you're more the type who likes to sit on a bench and admire static scenery, then staring at the same function for six days might be more rewarding for you.

And personal satisfaction just blows compared to being filthy rich. Right? Well, they do say money can't buy happiness, but every time someone's tried to buy me some happiness by giving me money, it's worked on the first try. Never fails, in fact. So I think "they" may be full of it.

I love programming, don't get me wrong. But I'd love it even more if I were a fat old dragon sitting on a big pile of gold, because then I could buy a zillion-inch monitor and work on programs I like, rather than the (only occasionally intersecting) set of programs that my boss tells me to work on.

In the meantime, I keep working on improving my skill set, on the off chance that my skills will actually matter, should the ideal startup scenario ever present itself. And it feels nice to learn new stuff, at least after you've gone through the pain of learning it.

Until then, all I really have of my own is my Mouth of Great Volume, which I'll keep on applying in my blogs so I can continue to reap the benefits of being mistaken for someone famous.

BlaaaaAAAAAahhh!!!

Sabtu, 01 Juli 2006

Wizard School

It's hard to believe it's only been eleven years since they opened the first Wizard School. I hear they just opened new campuses in Singapore and Istanbul. That's, what, sixteen or seventeen locations now? And enrollment is already backlogged five to ten years at the new campuses. The money involved just defies the imagination. Mine, anyway.

In retrospect it seems pretty obvious. Who'd have guessed they'd make so much money, though? We were all there, all programming in the same industry, but somehow the two founders saw an opportunity there that the rest of us missed.

I think it's worse than that, actually. I mean, I thought it was a joke when I first heard about it. Didn't you? But I'm such a late adopter. I didn't know about Napster, not really, not until they were being shut down. I didn't buy a DVD player or a CD player or an iPod until they'd been out at least six or seven years each. Stuff like this always feels like it happened overnight, but I guess they've been building to it for a quite a while.

I mean I'd heard about the Wizard Academies, sure. But it was this subculture, this thing interns and high school kids were buzzing about, should they go to college or wiz school, blah blah blah. I wasn't really paying attention. Then suddenly it was this mega-phenomenon, growing faster any educational institution in history.

It's not just that we didn't think of it. Face it: we would have scoffed if someone had suggested the idea. C'mon... "Wizards"? It sounded like someone was just jealous of J.K. Rowling. Especially the more you hear about the campuses.

Some people have been mailing me lately, random people asking me if their kids should go. It's expensive. Way expensive. Tough choice to make, even now, with Wizard Academy grads making anywhere from a quarter million to a million a year, while the rest of us plod away in 5-figure territory. I'm not exactly going to make that decision for them, but I threw together some notes — most of it old hat for anyone who hasn't been living under a rock — to help them make their decision.

I'm dumping my notes here until I think of a better place to put them. For now, I can just forward this stuff to anyone else who asks.

None of it should be new to you.

Why Not College?


It's still an honorable thing to get a Ph.D. I think that'll hold true for another twenty years, at least, because people like to hold on to their traditions. And even an undergrad degree in CS can still get you a job. If you can't afford the Wizard Academy, or you can't pass the entrance tests, or you just got on the waiting list too late, then a CS degree from a good university is still probably the best way to prep for a job in the tech industry. It's not as if the Wiz Schools have killed CS at universities. Not yet, anyway.

Besides, CS degrees are changing now. A lot of the more progressive universities have been overhauling their CS curricula as fast as they can, in response to the Wiz Schools. I mean, my God. The Wizards are coming in with significantly higher computer science scores than the CS grads, and theory isn't really what the Wizards are known for.

Heck, the wiz schools themselves are the newest fad in research departments (sociology and education departments, mostly) across the country — all over the world, even. Everyone has different hypotheses as to why Wizards are so damn good. Nobody seems to know for sure. But they are good, that much at least is indisputable. And they're in unbelievable demand now.

You hire a Ph.D., it's hit-or-miss. Some of them are brilliant. But then some subset of virtually every educated group is brilliant. The problem is that the notion of a Ph.D. has gradually been watered down for the last century. It used to mean something to be a Doctor of Philosophy: it meant you had materially advanced your discipline for everyone. Von Neumann, Nash, Turing — people like that, with world-changing dissertations, they just don't happen that often anymore, at least not in CS. Well, they probably occur at the same frequency, but it's one in a thousand at best.

Instead, what usually happens is a bright young Ph.D.-to-be chooses a school based on expedience: finances, or location, or parental pressure. There might be a dozen or so advisors to choose from, and the department as a whole has only one or two really big, prestigious areas of focus, areas for which the school is known (and hence funded). So if a kid goes to a school that does a lot of X, chances are pretty damn good the kid's going to do her Ph.D. thesis in X. But it's probably specialized to death, and the kid will wind up working for years on some tiny slice of almost-nothing: little prototype mobile doodads that track forest monkeys or something. And the kid will lose faith, stop hoping their thesis will ever mean anything, and they'll go through the motions until their advisor pities them and lets them defend.

I'm not saying it's a rubber stamp. These kids have to work hard for their Ph.D., and a lot of them never quite finish. But too often they finish without having written more than a few hundred lines of code in the past five years. Or they've over-specialized to the point where they now think Big-O is a tire company; they have no idea how computers or computation actually work anymore. They can tell you just about everything there is to know about SVM kernels and neural-net back propagation, or about photorealistic radiosity algorithms that make your apartment look fake by comparison. But if you want a website thrown together, or a scalable service written, or for that matter a graphics or machine-learning system, you're usually better off hiring a high-school kid, because the kid might actually know how to program. Some Ph.D.s can, but how many of them is it, really? From an industry perspective, an alarming number of them are no-ops.

The bigger, better-known companies — Yahoo!, Google, Amazon.com, Microsoft — those guys can spot a dud a mile off, over the phone even. Credentials don't matter, not strictly even for Wiz Academy grads with eight OWLs and five NEWTs or whatever the hell they're called. (I still can't believe how closely they copied Rowling's design.) What matters is what you know, and what you can do, and a Ph.D. laureate in CS these days, even from a "top" university, has about an 80% chance of failing interviews at one of these companies.

It's still honorable to get a Ph.D. But it's no guarantee of a job. Not a high-paying one, anyway, not at a company with a bright future. It is a lot cheaper than Wiz School, though, and it's easier to get in. So I'd consider it a pretty good fallback option.

Wiz School Tour


Well, you know all about the campuses; you can't watch the news for two hours nowadays without getting some sort of virtual tour, or hearing about some company's stock soaring after they won the first-round draft picks from the Nassau campus, or Kauai, or Chardonnay. They're half Google and half Hogwarts, seven-year boarding schools complete with Great Houses, robes, the whole works. Wizard Schools. Just like you'd expect, I guess.

They're always located out in remote, beautiful areas. No expenses spared. Full-time staff, like you'd find in a hotel or a cruise ship. Rich kids and scholarship kids alike, but only the brightest. Reminds me of Ender Wiggin's Battle School. Not just anyone gets to go. You've got to be a prodigy, a kid genius, and not just at math or science. They look for kids with spark, with personality, and their interviews are famous for being both gruelling and quirky. Interviews can last for up to 2 weeks. There's no guesswork involved; they keep you there until they know everything about you, or at least enough to know if you're Wizard material.

Just getting invited to the interviews is a big deal, something to brag about; being selected probably qualifies you for any early-entrance program at any school in most countries. Only 20% make it to the third day, and only one in fifty interviewees gets an offer to attend the school.

I hear they're giving more and more scholarships now. At first it was all rich foreign kids: kids whose parents couldn't get visas, due to the stupid U.S. immigration regulations at the time, which were later relaxed after the big Brain Drain hit. That's another story, of course, and one you already know about. But it explains why there were so many kids from countries like Indonesia and Thailand and Hong Kong in the first graduating classes: insanely brilliant kids from rich families who wanted the best education money could buy, and who were willing to take risks and be early adopters for what even today sounds like the craziest stunt (or scam) ever pulled.

It wasn't crazy, though, and it was no scam. Those first kids that graduated, seven years later, all of 18 years old, they're the youngest crop of CTOs and senior architects and company founders our industry had ever seen, and maybe that any industry had seen since, I don't know, the Gold Rush. Wiz Kids. A well-deserved pun.

Are They Really Better?


Oh, man. You have no idea. A fifth-round draft pick (companies bid for draft picks, of course; you can't just hire any Wizard Academy grad you want, and the process is now independently regulated to ensure fairness) comes "stock" with a skills lineup that would make any hiring manager drool uncontrollably. Probably with fear, since a kid like that will obsolete anyone with the title "hiring manager".

They type 140 to 160 words a minute, almost soundlessly, and always bring their own keyboards. They disdain mice, although recently I hear they've been using pointers attached to their foreheads. No idea how they control them so easily — makes my neck hurt just to think about it. Lots of practice. Hours of drills. Start 'em young, and they all say it's a snap, just like you'd tell your grandmother that using a mouse is a snap, when it's pretty obvious it really isn't.

They know their discrete mathematics and CS theory cold, of course, although I hear it's at the expense of more traditional disciplines like trigonometry and physics, unless they choose those subjects as electives. They're in class for 8 to 10 hours a day, and their homework load is at least equivalent to a full-time college degree, but they're starting it all at 11 or 12 years old.

But all that aside, they're probably most famous for their coding. Just plain, basic coding. I mean, we all think of ourselves as good coders, but the Wizards do it as easily as we breathe air. While a "normal" programmer is puzzling over design patterns, or trying to simplify complex code paths, a Wizard is blasting out code at the rate of hundreds of thousands of lines a year. And it's all amazingly high quality. Numerous studies have shown their code, on average, to have 80% fewer bugs and at least 100% (2x) better performance than the industry average. It's safe to say the Wizards graduating at the bottom of their class are still safely in the top 1% of industry grads.

Of course, blasting out hundreds of thousands of lines a year is missing the point. If a Wizard is given complete technical control over a project (which is usually the smartest thing to do, but companies are rarely very smart), the Wizard will typically write in one of the super-succinct "folding languages" they've developed on campus, usually a Lisp or Haskell derivative.

They call them Folding Languages because they write code that writes code that writes code... Wizards swear by it, and there's no question that they can produce amazingly compact, fast, clean-looking code. But 90% of the devs out there claim they can't read it, and whine a lot about it to their bosses. Given that most companies can only afford a few Staff Wizards, the Wizards are usually forced to capitulate and use Java or C++. They're equally comfortable in any language you throw at them, though, and if you force them to use a verbose language, well, you get what you ask for. It still amazes me that companies are bragging about how many lines of code their Wizards have produced. Potential startups take note: your competitors are usually idiots.

Will My Kid Be Normal?


Good question. It's not exactly "normal" to be a millionaire by age 22. But if you're worried that your kid is going off to join some strange Scientology-like cult, just go visit the campus. Online, of course. You can't actually get onto one of the campuses unless you're press, family, police, a guest speaker, or a Personage of Note like, say, the President of some country. They don't want you bothering the students. But you can take online tours, and they're all quite amazing, using technology largely developed at the campuses themselves. And it's pretty much what you'd expect: a carefully monitored boarding school. The robes and Wizard stuff is mostly there to make it fun, and to imbue it all with a sense of seriousness that always comes of wearing uniforms.

The professors are uniformly entertaining and brilliant. They're always seasoned industry pros, usually famous names. Everyone knows Larry Wall as the Head Wizard of the Aspen campus, the first campus they opened on U.S. soil. Most young folks don't realize Larry was the inventor of a language called "Perl" that was really popular in the 1990s and 2000s, up through 2010 or so. He was independently famous in his own right before taking the job, but these days he's famous entirely because of the Headmaster gig. He's won the Dumbledore Award for three consecutive years, so he's obviously popular with Wiz Academy students worldwide. And I hear Jamie Zawinski just left his S.F. club to take the second-in-command and Tools Master position in the Christchurch campus. Wanna be a prof at Wizard School? Gotta be famous, funny, proven, brilliant, and seriously committed to the students' success.

The kids do more physical education and activity than at most other schools. No, it's not Quidditch — that would be a neat trick — but they have soccer and golf and archery and horseback riding, and they're graded on physical fitness and physical dexterity. They also have to learn a musical instrument and a significant amount of music theory, as the schools claim it makes them better programmers and designers. They all do tons of electives in the arts and sciences. And they all come out fluent in at least 3 languages (one of which must be English) chosen from a list of nearly 100 possibilities. The students are pretty well-rounded by just about any objective standard.

In addition to their math, computer science, and unrivaled coding skills, Wiz Academy grads all seem to know how to draw. At least I've never known one who couldn't. They're not all great artists, of course, but they all receive a substantial amount of training as artists, and seven years of practice at anything, even part-time, can really add up. This puts them at a natural advantage when they're creating UIs and documentation, since they rarely need to wait around for a UI designer. Or at least they can whip up a sketch that a full-time designer or artist can use as starting material. The rest of us programmers have to pantomime what we want until the artist finally draws something that looks like what we (vaguely) had in mind. I'd never have guessed basic drawing skills would be so useful, but now that I see Wizards using them all the time, I've had to change my mind about it. I think we all have.

All the Wizards I've ever met personally have seemed nice enough. I'm sure you can find a few who are arrogant jerks, but you can find people like that anywhere and everywhere if you look hard enough. Most Wizards I've known have been ordinary, nice people. Sort of like Olympians, or Cirque du Soleil performers, or any other elite group of people who've trained since childhood to do what they're doing as adults. They're just people, and a lot of their personality is probably a function of how well you raise them before sending them off to boarding school.

So yeah, I'd say they're pretty normal. I sure wish I'd gone to Wizard School.

What's Next for Wizards Worldwide?


Wizard Schools are the darlings of the press. Who knows how long it'll last. The idea that started as a half-joking blog entry in 2006 has rapidly turned into the biggest phenomenon of the past decade, with no end in site. It's possible that Wizard Schools could eventually obsolete "regular" schools, with lower-end competitors (Fairy School? Somehow I doubt it...) stepping in to siphon off unmet demand.

It's equally possible that traditional schools will continue to borrow ideas from the Wizard Schools, in much the way that big companies circa 2006 started copying Google's philosophy of massages, free food, and other amazing perks in order to attract and retain top talent. That stuff was innovative back then, but it's fairly commonplace nowadays. Once Google had proved it worked better than frugality, everyone else had to follow suit: economics demanded it. Everyone who didn't got the second-best (or more commonly, the nth-best) employees.

One thing is clear: regardless of whether you think the Rowling-style environment is strictly necessary for producing Wizard-quality grads, the enrollment backlogs have shown that there's a huge, worldwide craving for improvement. People were only going to college because there was nothing better out there. But universities aren't really there to produce superstar programmers; their primary job is research, not education, and at least until recently they hardly focused on the students at all. Some profs even considered it beneath them to teach undergrads; it's no wonder so many CS students were graduating without knowing the fundamentals of their discipline: compilers, operating systems, algorithms, computation theory, and other key areas. Let alone Unix, the Web, and the tools of the trade.

Now that the Wizard Schools have proved the market exists, it's hard to imagine that competitors won't appear. Right now it's hard to get first-rate professors, since of course they all want to go off and teach at the existing Wizard Academies. But with a suitable thematic marketing twist, or a sizeable investment from a charitable billionaire, just about anyone could become the next hot education destination.

I'll tell you this much: I'm sending my kids, if they can make it in. In fact, maybe I should start a Wiz Academy Prep School... I'd better not tell anyone about this; it sounds like an idea worth going after. Yeah... I'd better look into it. There are an awful lot of people in this world who care about improving their skills and knowledge, and they want to do it as fast as humanly possible.

I wish I'd thought of it back in 2006. I guess we all do.

Sabtu, 10 Juni 2006

Shiny and New: Emacs 22

I finally upgraded to Emacs 22 a few weeks ago, and now I'm wishing I'd braved it sooner. Technically it's not released yet; I'm working from a build of a cvs snapshot from a month or so ago. But the Emacs dev team works pretty hard to make sure it has problem-free builds on a whole slew of platforms, so just following their instructions has a pretty good chance of working for you.

It's worth the effort. Truly. Reading through its NEWS file, there's just tons and tons of new functionality. It's going to take me some time, maybe a few weekends, just to absorb it all.

Personally, though, I think there are two features that by themselves justify the entire effort of upgrading: the Unicode and UTF-8 support, and the enhanced replace-regexp command.

International At Last

It's been a very long wait for Unicode and UTF-8 support, and now that I have it, I could never go back. There isn't much to say about it, except that it works. Seamlessly. It used to be hard to get international characters into and out of Emacs, because it had its own custom way of dealing with them. Now it's a snap.

In fact — here, I'll show ya. If you type C-h h, it brings up the HELLO file, which contains greetings in a variety of languages. Here's some Chinese: 中文,普通话,汉语. Here's some Korean: 안녕하세요, 안녕하십니까. Here's some Russian: Здравствуйте!

I'm not doing anything special; I'm just copying the strings out of the HELLO buffer and into my html buffer, and saving the file. I added the content-type header line in this HTML file, and all the characters just show up effortlessly in Firefox.

If you can't see them in your browser, well... Firefox is free. Or it might be a font problem on your system. As far as I'm concerned, any problems you may have in viewing them is no longer the fault of my Emacs session, which makes me Happy. Speaking as a developer who needs to internationalize every program I write, I can't begin to tell you how useful it's been to have seamless editing of utf-8 encoded files for the past month.

Right there, that feature alone is worth the upgrade.

But wait, there's more... Even though Emacs 22 has a bunch of noteworthy and exciting new features, blah blah blah, I'm going to blithely ignore them all today and focus with single-minded zeal on just one feature. It has a teeny tiny entry in the NEWS file; it's barely mentioned, really. I'm sure it was a thousand times less work than the UTF-8 support, but even so, it might well be strong enough on its own to justify the (moderate) pain of upgrading from Emacs 21.

Take a look at my examples and see if you agree!

Replacement Super-Powers

Emacs 22 sports an amazing new editing feature that's had me drooling in anticipation since I first heard about it, maybe six or eight months ago. As you can well imagine, that's a lot of drool.

And what might the feature be, you ask? Well, they've enhanced M-x {query-}replace-regxp to accept lisp expressions to be evaluated in the replacement string.

That might not seem like a big deal, so let's run through some examples, from simple to very fancy.

Example: Changing Case in Replacement Strings

Have you ever wanted to change the case of certain letters in the replacement string for M-x replace-regexp? It used to be a real pain; you either had to write a Lisp function or fix them all by hand. Now it's trivial.

As a simple demonstration, let's say you have a list of names that you need capitalized, like so:

bob
sue
ralph
alice
jimmy
preston
billy joe jim bob

It's a contrived example, since Emacs already has M-x capitalize-region. Or you could use C-u 10 M-x capitalize-word. But let's try it with the new replace-regexp evaluation feature to see how it works.

It's just like a normal M-x {query-}replace-regexp, but you'll prefix any lisp expressions in the replacement string with the sequence `\,' (i.e., a backslash and a comma). In this case, we match the whole word, and invoke the Emacs-Lisp function `capitalize' to capitalize the word we just matched:

M-x replace-regexp
Replace regexp: \(\w+\)
Replace regexp with: \,(capitalize \1)

and we wind up with each word capitalized, just like we wanted:

Bob
Sue
Ralph
Alice
Jimmy
Preston
Billy Joe Jim Bob

Unlike the capitalize-{word/region} commands, which have hardwired behavior, the {query-}replace-regexp commands give us tremendous flexibility. For instance, we could have capitalized the last letters of the names instead, by splitting each word into two regexps, with the second regexp matching just the last character. Then it's a simple matter to reconstruct the word with the last letter capitalized:

M-x replace-regexp
Replace regexp: \(\w+\)\(\w\)
Replace regexp with: \1\,(capitalize \2)

..to get the reverse capitalization we wanted:

boB
suE
ralpH
alicE
jimmY
prestoN
billY joE jiM boB

For a somewhat more realistic example, let's say you've defined some "getter" functions in a Java class, like so:
  public Relative father() { return this.father; }
public Relative mother() { return this.mother; }
public Relative sister() { return this.sister; }
public Relative brother() { return this.brother; }
public Relative auntie() { return this.auntie; }
public Relative uncle() { return this.uncle; }
...
and your code reviewer wants you prepend the word "get" to each of them.

Well, this is a classic refactoring situation ("rename method"), but you're going to have to invoke the refactoring manually for each method, and you may have hundreds of them.

If these methods have been around a while, and they're being referenced by many external callers, then you're safest using a refactoring tool. You may even consider writing a one-off refactoring script, perhaps in Jython or Mozilla Rhino, that makes programmatic use of either your IDE's refactoring APIs or a lower-level tool such as ANTLR or JavaCC.

Whew! That's going to be a lot of work, no matter how you slice it. And if you've published your APIs externally, then you're screwed; all you can do is @deprecate the old names and hope people stop using them someday.

But that's why you get your code reviews done early, right? In many real-world situations, you're performing a rename-method on a new class that has no external callers yet. And in those situations, Emacs 22 will get the job done far faster than a refactoring IDE can.

In this case, we'd just do a straightforward replacement with capitalization, similar to the one in our last example, like so:
M-x replace-regexp
Replace regexp: \(public Relative \)\(\w\)\(\w+\)
Replace regexp with: \1get\,(capitalize \2)\3
Et voilà: <-- (p.s.: C-x 8 ` a gives you that neat 'à' character.)
  public Relative getFather() { return this.father; }
public Relative getMother() { return this.mother; }
public Relative getSister() { return this.sister; }
public Relative getBrother() { return this.brother; }
public Relative getAuntie() { return this.auntie; }
public Relative getUncle() { return this.uncle; }
...
Even if you do most of your coding in the comfy confines of a visual IDE, it can be awfully handy to keep Emacs around for your fine-grained text surgery.

Now we can move on to some more interesting examples, so you can feel you got your money's worth out of today's blog entry. But first...

A Note About Emacs Regexps

Emacs regular expression syntax is very old, predating Perl 5's fancier regex syntax by almost a decade. Perl's regexp enhancements are the defacto standard, supported in virtually all major programming languages. Unfortunately, nobody has ever seen fit to retrofit poor Emacs with an alternate Perl-compatible regexp syntax, so Emacs regexps are now nonstandard and a bit awkward. Here are a few of the noteworthy differences:
  • You have to escape the (, ), {, }, and | metacharacters. That is, they're not metacharacters by default — without the backslash, they match themselves.

  • There's no '\d' shortcut for the [0-9] character class.

  • There are no lookahead or lookbehind assertions.

  • There are no direct equivalents for Perl's {n}?, {n,}?, {n,m}?, /i, /m, /s, /x, \G, or (?# ...) constructs.
But Emacs still supports some of the constructs you've come to expect:
  • You can specify exactly N repetitions with `\{N\}', and between N and M repetitions (inclusive) with `\{N,M\}'. E.g. [0-9]\{3\}-[0-9]\{4\} matches a 7-digit phone-number in the format xxx-xxxx.

  • You can have backreferences to previously matched groups in the regular expression. E.g. \(re\).*\1 matches words with "re" appearing at least twice, like carefree and première.

  • You can specify "shy" groups that don't record the match with \(?: ... \).
There are also some Emacs-specific enhancements, such as matchers for entries in the mode-specific syntax tables. The Info pages have more details on Emacs regular expressions.

If you plan to be more than a casual Emacs user, you should study the regexp syntax carefully, because there are many useful commands in Emacs that operate on regular expression matches. The better you know the Emacs-specific syntax, the more productive you'll be.

I suppose before we move on to the next example, I should preemptively answer one of the most frequently asked questions about Emacs regexps.

Q: How do I embed a newline in a regexp I'm typing into the minibuffer?

A: You use the key sequence C-q C-j. The C-q invokes the Emacs `quoted-insert' command, which basically says "insert the next character literally, without invoking any commands with it." C-j (i.e., control-j) is how a newline character is represented in Emacs.

C-q is a useful general-purpose Emacs command. Whenever you want to insert a character (in the minibuffer or a regular buffer), and it's just refusing to go in, C-q <char> will almost always do the trick.

Example: Numbering Lists

With our new replacement-with-evaluation feature, it becomes straightforward to create numbered lists. Emacs 22 has introduced a new backreferencing metacharacter, `\#', which counts the number of replacements we've done so far in the current command. So even without using any Lisp, we already have one way to make numbered lists.

Let's see... we'll need a short list of words as an example. How about all the words in /usr/share/dict/words that don't end in [a-z]? Easy enough to find out. We M-x find-file /usr/share/dict/words (only if you're on a Unix system, of course, and the location varies), and then M-x list-match [^a-z]$. Ah, perfect — our *Occur* buffer shows 32 matches:

   1987:Bogotá
5243:Fabergé
9772:Mallarmé
12044:Paraná
12499:Poincaré
16956:abbé
19923:appliqué
20932:attaché
23704:blasé
26223:café
26511:canapé
29314:cliché
31431:consommé
38981:décolleté
42995:fiancé
43623:flambé
44996:frappé
48317:habitué
58328:macramé
58898:manqué
62514:naiveté
65243:outré
66710:passé
71609:protégé
73675:recherché
76387:risqué
76847:roué
77811:sauté
82455:soufflé
89055:touché
96268:émigré
96274:études

They're prefixed by their line number, but we can make that disappear during the replacement. Let's turn them into a numbered list. First copy the matches into a new, writable buffer, then M-C-< to go to the top of the list, and then:
M-x replace-regexp
Replace regexp: \(.+:\)
Replace regexp with \#. 
Boom!
0. Bogotá
1. Fabergé
2. Mallarmé
3. Paraná
4. Poincaré
5. abbé
6. appliqué
7. attaché
8. blasé
9. café
10. canapé
11. cliché
12. consommé
13. décolleté
14. fiancé
15. flambé
16. frappé
17. habitué
18. macramé
19. manqué
20. naiveté
21. outré
22. passé
23. protégé
24. recherché
25. risqué
26. roué
27. sauté
28. soufflé
29. touché
30. émigré
31. études

Oooh, but only Computer Science students like lists numbered from zero. So let's M-x undo (using C-/ of course — everyone uses C-x C-u, but that's way too many keystrokes for something as common as Undo!) and use a tiny bit of Lisp to start the numbering at 1.

It so happens that Emacs-Lisp defines a function called 1+, which increments a number. So we can just wrap the `\#' in our replacement string with that function, like so:

\,(1+ \#).  <-- (There's a trailing space after the ".")

The result is just what we wanted:
1. Bogotá
2. Fabergé
3. Mallarmé
4. Paraná
5. Poincaré
6. abbé
7. appliqué
8. attaché
9. blasé
...

The lisp 1+ function operates on numbers, not strings, so you might have expected it to barf with a wrong-type-argument error. Our example works because the \# metacharacter returns a count of matches so far, which is a number, not a string value. In our next example, we'll have to do the conversion ourselves.

Example: Re-numbering Lists

We can use Lisp-code snippet similar to our previous one to renumber an existing list. Let's say we want to insert a word in a numbered list, like so:
1. Bogotá
2. Fabergé
3. Flambé     <-- (We inserted this one. Nice word, eh?)
3. Mallarmé
4. Paraná
5. Poincaré
6. abbé
7. appliqué
8. attaché
9. blasé
...

Easy to fix in Emacs22: place the cursor just after the word we inserted, and M-x replace-regexp `^\([0-9]+\)' with `\,(1+ (string-to-int \1))'. The result:
1. Bogotá
2. Fabergé
3. Flambé
4. Mallarmé
5. Paraná
6. Poincaré
7. abbé
8. appliqué
9. attaché
10. blasé
...

This time we used a numbered backreference (\1), which always returns a string. Don't be fooled by the fact that we appear to be matching a number: the regexp `^\([0-9]+\)' matches a string containing numeric digits, and we have to do a type conversion (using the Emacs-Lisp builtin function string-to-int) if we want to increment it.

I hope by now you're beginning to suspect that knowing a little Emacs-Lisp can help you immensely with your editing tasks. Believe it! (Not surprisingly, knowing a lot of Emacs-Lisp helps even more.)

Example: Alphabetically Numbered Lists

Let's say we have a list of 26 or fewer items, and we want to "number" it with A, B, and C rather than 1, 2, and 3.

Well, shoot. The list we've been using has 32 items. I'd prefer a list of 26 (or so) for this example.

Let's see... we can write a wee Lisp function to group the words in /usr/share/dict/words by their ending letters a-z:
(cl-prettyprint
(save-excursion
(set-buffer "words")
(loop for c from ?a to ?z
collect (let ((i 0)
(tail (string c)))
(beginning-of-buffer)
(while (re-search-forward (concat tail "$") nil t)
(incf i))
(cons tail i)))))

We just evaluate this snippet in our *scratch* buffer (by typing C-j after the last paren). It crunches the words buffer and produces:
(("a" . 1625)
("b" . 167)
("c" . 772)
("d" . 8331)
("e" . 7190)
("f" . 191)
("g" . 7401)
("h" . 991)
("i" . 457)
("j" . 4)
("k" . 784)
("l" . 2041)
("m" . 920)
("n" . 4347)
("o" . 718)
("p" . 450)
("q" . 5)
("r" . 4279)
("s" . 44857)
("t" . 4454)
("u" . 140)
("v" . 46)
("w" . 247)
("x" . 182)
("y" . 5519)
("z" . 124))

Hmmm... nothing really promising. We only get 9 words if we combine the ones ending in "q" and "j". A minor tweak to our search function will show us words ending with a doubled letter:
(cl-prettyprint
(save-excursion
(set-buffer "words")
(loop for c from ?a to ?z
collect (let ((i 0)
(tail (concat (string c) (string c))))
(beginning-of-buffer)
(while (re-search-forward (concat tail "$") nil t)
(incf i))
(cons tail i)))))

Evaluating it gives us:
(("aa" . 2)
("bb" . 3)
("cc" . 1)
("dd" . 5)
("ee" . 136)
("ff" . 75)
("gg" . 4)
("hh" . 0)
("ii" . 4)
("jj" . 0)
("kk" . 0)
("ll" . 291)
("mm" . 2)
("nn" . 38)
("oo" . 30)
("pp" . 4)
("qq" . 0)
("rr" . 13)
("ss" . 1276)
("tt" . 58)
("uu" . 1)
("vv" . 0)
("ww" . 0)
("xx" . 0)
("yy" . 0)
("zz" . 9))

Looks like we have more options with this list. Maybe if we just take the ones with a count of 5 or less... looks like 26 of them. Perfect!

We could write a little more code to extract the words matching our criteria, but it's clearly going to be fastest to eyeball it. So we call M-x list-matching-lines with the regexp \(aa\|bb\|cc\|dd\|gg\|ii\|mm\|pp\|uu\)$, and we get our list of 26 words:
   2145:Bragg
3436:Cobb
5662:Fromm
6284:Gregg
6317:Grimm
6675:Hawaii
8025:Judd
8290:Kellogg
8411:Kidd
8509:Knapp
8645:Krupp
8689:Kwanzaa
8804:Lapp
12549:Pompeii
15425:Todd
16257:Webb
16641:Yacc
17702:add
21427:baa
39145:ebb
39372:egg
46305:genii
62411:muumuu
64283:odd
72801:radii
78139:schlepp

And what a fine bunch of words they are. Just try doing that exercise in Java or C++ sometime.

In any case, now we have a list for our example, and we want to number it alphabetically. So we need to replace all the cruft up through each ':' with a counter converted to an alphabet character.

As we saw in our little function that produced this word list, Emacs uses `?c' syntax to represent characters, and internally they're just ints. So we just add the character `?a' to our `\#' counter this time, to loop through the characters 'a' to 'z':
M-x replace-regexp
Replace regexp: ^\(.+:\)
Replace regexp with: \,(+ ?a \#))

And, ladies and gentlemen... behold!
97) Bragg
98) Cobb
99) Fromm
100) Gregg
101) Grimm
102) Hawaii
103) Judd
104) Kellogg
105) Kidd
106) Knapp
107) Krupp
108) Kwanzaa
109) Lapp
110) Pompeii
111) Todd
112) Webb
113) Yacc
114) add
115) baa
116) ebb
117) egg
118) genii
119) muumuu
120) odd
121) radii
122) schlepp

D'oh!!!! I forgot to convert the counter back to a character. Haha. Oops.

After a quick C-/ to undo the operation, we can just change the replacement regexp to `\,(string (+ ?a \#))) ', and we finally have our alphabetically-enumerated word list:
a) Bragg
b) Cobb
c) Fromm
d) Gregg
e) Grimm
f) Hawaii
g) Judd
h) Kellogg
i) Kidd
j) Knapp
k) Krupp
l) Kwanzaa
m) Lapp
n) Pompeii
o) Todd
p) Webb
q) Yacc
r) add
s) baa
t) ebb
u) egg
v) genii
w) muumuu
x) odd
y) radii
z) schlepp

Or we could get capital letters by using `\,(upcase (string (+ ?a \#)))) ' instead.

Note that M-x replace-regexp has its own command history list, so you can just use up-arrow to fetch old regexps you've entered, and tweak them in place. Easier than re-entering them from scratch every time.

Some Even Snazzier Examples

So far we've used this amazing little new feature to generate (and renumber) various lists, and to change the capitalization of the replacement text on the fly (in two different ways). Both very practical and useful transformations.

In our next example, we'll assume you're working on a Java-based Web application, because your company is too lame to let you use Ruby on Rails. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Suppose you have some JSP files containing references to various static images, e.g. <img src="images/foo_bar.gif">, and you decide you want to change them to calls into Java code to fetch the image URLs as the page is composed. So "images/foo_bar.gif" needs to change to (say) <%= StaticImageManager.FOO_BAR_GIF.getUrl()%>.

Well, clearly no fancy-pants refactoring IDE on the planet is going to be able to help you with this. If you're an Eclipse or IntelliJ or Visual Studio user, get ready for some carpal tunnel while you manually change every instance.

However, if you've followed the examples so far, you know it's trivial in Emacs 22:
M-x replace-regexp
Replace regexp: "images/\([a-z_]+\)\.\(gif\|jpg\)"
Replace regexp with: <%= StaticImageManager.\,(upcase (concat \1 "_" \2)).getUrl() %>

and they're all fixed in the blink of an eye.

But you knew that by now. This example wasn't more complex than the others, just a little longer.

It starts to get even more interesting if you permit side effects in your lisp expressions. That is to say, persistent changes to the world, whether it's Emacs variables, your buffer configuration, or even your filesystem. You have to be a bit more careful, but you can use the new replace-regexp eval feature as a powerful interactive scripting engine.

Our last example will be opening files. Often you'll find yourself looking for files using the Unix `find' command in a shell. But what if you want to open the files it turned up?

Again, it's a slightly contrived example, because it's already possible to use Unix shell commands and the "emacsclient" program to instruct Emacs to open the files you find. But it should suffice to show you what we mean by "side-effecting replacements".

A simple example should work. Let's go to our installed emacs lisp directory. Mine's /usr/share/emacs/22.0.50/lisp, which I found by looking at my `load-path' variable in my *scratch* buffer. There are various subdirectories, including textmodes/, progmodes/, and others.

To have Emacs open (say) all the elisp files beginning with the letter `x', we M-x shell, cd to /usr/share/emacs/22.0.50/lisp, and use the `find' command:
/usr/share/emacs/22.0.50/lisp>find . -name "x*.el"
./progmodes/xscheme.el
./term/x-win.el
./term/xterm.el
./obsolete/x-apollo.el
./obsolete/x-menu.el
./x-dnd.el
./xml.el
./xt-mouse.el

If you select the lines naming the 8 files above, then M-x replace-regexp will operate just in the selected region. Opening the selected files is then one easy command:
M-x replace-regexp
Replace regexp: .+
Replace regexp with: \,(find-file-noselect \&)

The files are silently opened in the background when you execute this "replacement" command. We could alternately have used `find-file' to watch them opened noisily in the foreground, but when opening lots of files I personally prefer to open them in the background. (This also makes them appear at the bottom of your buffer-list.)

Note that we used a new metacharacter here, `\&', which grabs the entire string that matched. That means we were able to omit the grouping parens. We also relied on the fact that Emacs regexps are, by default, anchored to the beginning and end of the line, so `.+' matches exactly one line, not counting the newline character. Pretty convenient!

After the replacement, the lines in your *shell* buffer are replaced with the return values of the calls to `find-file{-noselect}', which in this case is just the name of the file. But we don't really care, since it's a shell buffer; we were doing it purely for the side effect and not for the replacement.

Armed with your new-found knowledge, replace-regexp and query-replace-regexp should become some of the most powerful tools in your editing toolchest. The more experience you have with Emacs regular expressions, and with Emacs Lisp, the more bang for your buck you'll get out of this enhancement.

Example: Heading-Tag Promotion/Demotion

Oh, OK, fine. One laaaaaast example, because I just ran into it as I was putting in my final edits. You know how most browsers like to render <h1> tags in 10-foot tall letters? So we all start with <h2> or even <h3> tags and work down from there? (Those of us too lazy to muck with CSS overly much, that is. Which is most of us.)

Well, I started my blog entry today with <h1> tags, and decided to bump them all up a number (and thus down in size.)

I used to do this operation with N successive replacements, with N ranging from 2 to 5. You replace the <h5>'s with <h6>, then the <h4>'s with <h5>, and so on. No more of that hooey for me! I can renumber them all with a single replacement. You guessed it:
M-x replace-regexp
Replace regexp: <\(/?\)h\([0-9]\)>
Replace regexp with: <\1h\,(1+ (string-to-int \2))>
Zoom, zoom, zoom! All fixed in one swell foop. That's just awesome.

There's also a new query-replace-regexp-eval function, but it's not all that different from what we've talked about here, so you can read about it when you upgrade.

You are going to upgrade now, right? Well, it's your choice, it's your time. Gotta spend time to save time, as the old saying (almost) goes.

But I think it was worth it.

How do I learn this Emacs-Lisp doohickey, anyway?

It's really not too hard. Honest. Especially since I'm going to tell you some things that will make it much easier on you, because Emacs Lisp is pretty different from other languages you're used to. If you keep these points firmly in mind, learning it will be a snap, really. They're all things I wish someone had told me when I started learning elisp.

It'll Always be Useful

First, recognize that Emacs Lisp isn't going anywhere. Emacs is not going to magically become programmable in Python or Ruby or JavaScript or Perl overnight. (Or, God save us, Java or C++ or C# — all fine languages, to be sure, but they all suck at scripting.)

And judging from the last decade's pace of innovation in editing and coding environments, it will be many years before any editor begins to approach Emacs in the things Emacs does well. [The one noteworthy exception is VIM, which is also very powerful by all accounts, though I have no experience with it. If you have already developed a preference for vi over emacs, then you may experience greater happiness pursuing expertise with VIM. Psh.]

There do, in fact, exist packages that make it possible to write Emacs extensions in Python (PyMacs), Ruby (El4r), and Perl (EPL). But they're far from seamless: they're hard to install and they're hard to learn. They will only appeal to you (maybe) if you're a truly die-hard programmer in one of those languages, and you already know a fair amount of emacs-lisp, because they're closely tied to the elisp programming model. You will still need to know about buffers, overlays, markers, plists, symbols, and all the other Emacs-Lisp abstractions. And you'll have to deal with the sometimes complex mapping between language X and Emacs-Lisp.

Plus, if you want to share your extensions with your friends, they'll have to go through the install process as well. I just wouldn't go there, not if you're trying to learn how to get better with Emacs. If you're an expert in both languages, then sure. The package authors could use your help.

In the meantime, Emacs isn't going anywhere, and Emacs-Lisp isn't going anywhere, not for several decades at least, so it will benefit you to learn them deeply. It will never be obsolete knowledge. You might as well start learning it now, and reap the benefits now.

It's Kinda Like XML

You can think of Emacs Lisp as being very much like XML. There are some differences that will become apparent as you use it, but thinking of it as XML will help a lot.

In most programming languages, it's good style to avoid deeply indented code. With XML, indentation depth is entirely a function of your data domain; you don't generally think about restructuring it to avoid indentation. (Think of XHTML, for instance, in which the nesting can become arbitrarily deep.) With XML, you're building a tree structure, and it's easy to see it that way. Your XML processing tools help you manage navigating your way around complex documents.

With Lisp, you're also building an explicit tree structure. That means it's going to be indented very differently from your C/Java/Perl/Python code. The indentation is less something you decide, and more something that's decided for you based on the approach you take to the problem.

The perpetual indentation used to drive me nuts, but I've come to appreciate its advantages. I won't go into them here, but given what you know about XML, I'm sure you can imagine a few benefits without too much effort.

It Gets Better With Practice

If you do it enough, eventually you'll enjoy programming in Emacs-Lisp, no matter how much you hate it initially. You'll probably never love it, and you'll pine for a more powerful Lisp dialect, and for features from other languages you know. But like any other programming language, it becomes way more fun as you go from beginner to expert.

Programmers really hate new syntax. Most people find it harder to learn new syntax than to learn new Design Patterns or APIs or frameworks. So you'll initially dislike Emacs-Lisp's syntax; it's virtually guaranteed. Fortunately, it doesn't really have much in the way of syntax; almost everything follows the exact same s-expression form. So you should get past the syntax pretty quickly, and in a few weeks you'll start liking it just fine.

It's Oddly "Zippy"

Emacs-Lisp uses a radically different programming model from other languages. There's a strong (nearly 1:1) correspondence between what you can do in the editor and what you can do in the language. Writing elisp code is very much like scripting your actions in the editor.

For instance, to get the length of the current line (assuming the function doesn't exist), your code will remember where you are, then move the cursor to the beginning of the line, get the buffer position, jump the cursor to the end of the line, get the buffer position there, subtract the two buffer positions, return the cursor to where you were, and then finally return the value. That's a lot of moving around! [You can also use point-at-bol and point-at-eol, but in general, you still zip around a lot.]

As another example, if you wanted to determine whether any lines in the buffer started with a particular regexp, then you'd go look at them! You don't call a function that returns a list of lines in the buffer (though you could write one). You just save your position, go to the beginning of the buffer, and call next-line and looking-at to check each line against the regexp. It's like you've got a little worker-bee version of yourself, doing automatically what you could have done by hand (albeit much more slowly) using editor commands.

Over the years, they've piled up thousands of shortcut functions, and much of the time you wind up programming "normally" by invoking functions on data structures, like in other languages. But it really helps to remember that little worker bee that zips around like Feynman's lonely electron. Your coding will go more smoothly if you keep it in mind.

You can Learn From its Peers

Lastly, it's useful to know that Emacs-Lisp has a lot in common with two other famous Lisp dialects: Common Lisp and Scheme. It's arguably closer to Common Lisp, and in many ways it's inferior to both of them, but learning a little about Common Lisp or Scheme will improve your Emacs-Lisp coding dramatically. And, as it happens, there are far more books published about Common Lisp and Scheme than there are about Emacs Lisp. I'll list a few of my favorites here.

Emacs-Lisp Books

You should start with Richard M. Stallman's book. He wrote Emacs, and he wrote the Gnu Emacs Manual. It's a classic, and probably remains the best book on Emacs to date. It's a good idea to read it just to get an overview of all the things Emacs can do out of the box. Otherwise it'll be hard to know what kinds of Emacs-Lisp programs you can write.

Next, you'll want the all-time classic, Mastering Regular Expressions, by Jeffrey Friedl. Don't leave home without it.

Starting with Emacs 22, the Emacs-Lisp Reference Manual comes bundled with the distribution. I don't know if it's sold in hardcopy anymore, but it's chock-full of critically important information, so you'd do well to read it. (And re-read it periodically. It's a lot of information.)

I do have a couple of books on Emacs Lisp:

An Introduction to Programming in Emacs Lisp (Robert Chassell)
Writing GNU Emacs Extensions (Bob Glickstein)

They're not bad, but I honestly never got much from them. However, your mileage may vary. Go to Amazon, peek through them a bit, and decide for yourself whether they'll be helpful.

Common Lisp Books

There are lots — lots and lots — but these are the ones I personally found most directly relevant to helping me learn Emacs-Lisp:

ANSI Common Lisp (Paul Graham)
On Lisp (Paul Graham) — out of print, but available as a PDF. I printed it out and bound it at FedEx/Kinko's.

I own (and have read) essentially all of the other books on Common Lisp in print today, and the two above got me the furthest towards Emacs-Lisp proficiency. I'm not counting Peter Norvig's AI books, since their focus is AI, not Lisp. They're awesome books, though; I recommend them both highly.

And if you're actually trying to learn Common Lisp to use it (as opposed to applying what you can of it to Emacs), then you'd better get a copy of Peter Siebel's Book. It's essential.

Scheme Books

Again, lots to choose from, and Scheme books tend to be more didactic, so I found they had a bigger impact in terms of ingraining the core ideas of Lisp. Listed in decreasing order of mind-opening wow-ness:

Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs — a good candidate for the "Best Computer Science Book Ever" award.

The Little Schemer — I worked through every single exercise twice: once in Scheme, once in Emacs-Lisp. Ditto for the sequel, The Seasoned Schemer, and I just started on the brand-new third volume, The Reasoned Schemer.

The Scheme Programming Language — good book, though a bit heavy going, as it's long on concepts and short on explanations. I found it well worth wrestling through, though.

Scheme is a wonderful language, and worth learning in its own right.

Caveats

If Emacs 22 goes on a horrible disk-eating rampage, don't blame me.

As one might expect of alpha software, it's got some bugs and glitches. I've never had anything really scary happen. It hasn't corrupted my data so far, and it has only crashed once or twice (i.e., far less often than the supposedly "stable" releases of XEmacs). But it occasionally does surprising things, like minimizing the entire frame if I try to 'q' (quit) certain read-only windows, or suddenly bringing up a completions buffer when I'm typing along in fundamental mode. They're rare enough not to have bothered me much.

They've also broken backwards-compatibility with several in-house functions and modes, so I've had to do some work to rewrite them. If you rely on proprietary Emacs-Lisp software as part of your job, and you're not proficient with elisp yourself, then you should make sure you have a local guru available before you upgrade to Emacs 22, or some stuff may stop working for you.

This blog entry consists, as usual, of only my very own whimsical opinions. I don't speak for my employer, nor for anyone else's employer, nor for any of the authors cited here, nor for the most excellent development teams working on Emacs, XEmacs, VIM, Eclipse, IntelliJ, Visual Studio, Firefox, and Ruby on Rails. I just speak for me.

If you didn't like this article, please be sure to run over to Reddit and call me stupid there. I'm sure people would hate to miss an opportunity to hear how you've taken such a boldly prominent and decisive stand on some random guy's personal blog.

And if you did like the article — well, go play with Emacs 22!

Senin, 29 Mei 2006

(Not) Managing Software Developers

Manager Secret Sauce


I've managed software developers at various companies, on and off, for about fifteen years. Doing so I've made or watched just about every mistake in the very big book o' management mistakes. So, like many others before me, I thought I'd offer a few observations and tips.

I'm not trying to be comprehensive here. It's just some thoughts, just enough of them to fit in a blog. And wouldn't you know it, they fit exactly. Lucky us! Also, I don't mean to be controversial here. However, given that nearly everything I write seems to generate at least some controversy, I eagerly await seeing how far I miss my mark.

If today's rant seems boringly obvious to you, then you may very well be a rare breed: a good software engineering manager. I say you may be, because knowing these things isn't the same as practicing them effectively. You may do all my Dos and don't all my Don'ts, yet still find some clever way to be an awful manager that I hadn't thought of. The path is fairly narrow, and there are surprisingly many dimensions along which you can make mistakes.

However, I'll offer you one almost magical tip that can help you smooth over nearly any mistake, a tip that can get you through just about any bad situation. I'll tell you the tip right now, with no fanfare or ado. This hint is the most important one I'll offer you today. It's the secret ingredient to Great Manager Sauce. Unfortunately, it's not easy to learn. You either already understand it, down in your bones, or you have years of head-scratching ahead of you. The tip is just one word: Empathy.

If you have true empathy for your engineers, they can forgive almost anything. Which is good, because you will make mistakes. We all do.

Of course, you'll need to be more than a quivering blob of empathy to be a good manager, so I have a few more tips coming your way. But first, if you're reading these tips with an eye towards practicing them, let's revisit why you're interested in management in the first place.

Absolute Power


The catch-22 of software management is that the ones who want it most are usually the worst at it. Some people, for worse or for worst, want to be managers because it gives them power over their peers. There's nothing good that can come of this arrangement: you should never give power to someone who craves it, for reasons that I hope are obvious.

Unfortunately, many tech companies do exactly that, because they don't know any better. And they exacerbate the problem by setting up a bad feedback loop, in which managers get to make all the decisions and effectively have all the power, or at any rate too much of it. A company may say they value their engineers, but if compensation decisions are all made by managers, guess who gets all the compensation? And then everyone sets a long-term goal of becoming a manager, at which point the company is no longer focused on innovation.

If you're an engineer at a company where becoming a manager is considered a promotion, then you only have three choices: become a manager yourself, or leave, or resign yourself to being a second-class employee. It should be obvious — you can work through the math using three sock puppets — that this is an arrangement that pushes a company inexorably towards mediocrity. The best engineers either leave the company or try their hand at management, often with doubly disastrous consequences: they simultaneously lose the company a great engineer and gain them an awful manager.

Every company is subject to nearly invisible forces set up by their organizational and cultural choices, whether deliberate or accidental. Software companies that prize managers above engineers are guided by their own Invisible Hand to become a henhouse of clucky managers pecking viciously at harried engineers. Sadly, most software companies fall into this trap, because they're borrowing traditional ideas about management from non-tech industries, and they're not bright enough to think through the implications, let alone design a better system.

It takes a long time for a big company to die: so long that it's non-obvious that most of them are in fact dying, or at best treading water. We're a hit-driven industry. A few big successes can make it seem like everyone's doing well. But most of them have only had one hit. Go visit most tech companies, and all you'll find is a fussy henhouse parading around an aging goose that laid one or two golden eggs. All their innovation happened in the first act, and now they're focused on "managing for success." But that kind of managing is just staving off insolvency until a real innovator takes their business away. Any tech company overly focused on (or dependent on) its management is probably a good candidate for short-selling.

Many big-company CEOs still wish for the good old startup days where everyone was motivated by idealism, or greed, or both, and worked as hard as they could without the need for management overhead. However, some sort of formal management heirarchy seems to be a necessary evil. I don't think anyone's figured out how to make a no-management structure work for an org with hundrds or thousands of engineers. I do know one great company that's come really close. I won't tell you their name, but you can, um, Google for them. Unfortunately I have neither time, nor space, nor in all likelihood permission to explain their recipe for success with almost no management. You'll just have to take my word for it: if you take all the managers away, great engineers will still build great things. Maybe even faster.

And even companies brave enough to try flat management still need to find a few good managers. But the management catch-22 I opened this section with makes finding good managers a bit problematic. If you simply line everyone up and ask anyone who wants the job to take one step backwards, you wind up with two rows: a row of bad managers who want the job, and a row of bad managers who don't. It's hard to find good software managers and it's hard to grow them. I'm afraid I have to leave the task of acquiring good managers out of scope for today, and instead focus on how you might go about becoming a better manager if you already have the job, or think you might someday.

So You Want To Be A Manager


If you want to manage badly enough, then you will manage, badly enough. Hence, before you jump in, stop and think about why you want it. Are you tired of engineering, or were you perhaps never very good at it? If so, technical management isn't much of an escape, because your engineers will know, and they won't respect you. Do you want to manage because you want authority? If so, it's a trap: you'll still be on a leash held by the folks above you.

Or maybe you just want to be a little higher in the pecking order, so you can peck downhill? If so, then you're what we call, colloquially speaking, a "pecker".

Think hard about why you want to be a manager. I've worked with a hundred managers with a hundred different motivations, and all of the underlying reasons, including my own, seem suspicious to me now. Especially now that I work for a company that works, and well, with almost no managers or management overhead. Now that I've seen it working, I question the motivations of anyone who wants to manage.

I'm suspicious of all the mother-hen types: they want to nurture their teams, but tend to smother them. And I'm suspicious of the overly-organized types: they want to bring process to chaos, but process stifles invention, and it can be used to disguise incompetence for an entire career. I'm suspicious of empire builders; too often they lower their hiring bar. I've heard or seen a hundred reasons for becoming a manager, and I now view all of them with suspicion, because each reason is a potential psychological problem waiting to manifest itself on a soon-to-be-unhappy engineering team.

I know plenty of good managers, even great ones, and none of them are managing. They're leading, and there's a world of difference. You've heard a hundred clichéd descriptions of leadership, but you probably also know at least one or two people you consider great leaders, so you know intuitively how it can work via their examples. And if you know enough great leaders, you know there are vastly different styles at work.

I won't try to characterize those styles here; it would take us too far afield. But I think the best managers don't want to manage: they want to lead. In fact most leaders probably don't think about it much, at least at first, because they're too busy leading: rushing headlong towards a goal and leading everyone around them in that direction, whether they're on the team or not. Leadership stems from having a clear vision, strong convictions, and enough drive and talent to get your ideas and goals across to a diverse group of people who can help you achieve them. If you have all that, you're close. Then you just need empathy so you don't work everyone to death. If you're a great leader, you can put the whip away; everyone will give you everything they've got.

Put in that light, management no longer seems so glamorous, does it? Ironically, "I want to be a manager" is just about the worst sentiment a would-be manager could possibly express, because the statement has absolutely nothing to do with leadership. A leader doesn't fixate on management, which is after all just a bureaucratic framework that attempts to simulate leadership through process and protocol. Great teams building great things don't worry about process. They just build whatever it is as fast as they can.

The more HR-oriented a tech organization becomes, with manager training and manager forms and manager evaluations and manager this and that, the harder it is for a real leader to get any work done. Often as not, the actual leaders in the organization (at all levels, from individual contributors up through senior VPs) tend to be very slightly unpopular with HR, because they're always bending the rules and not doing things strictly by the book.

The true leaders in an organization are seeing the world through a very different set of eyes: the eyes, almost, of someone reading a story unfolding, except they're the ones writing the story. They can see clear as day how the world should be different in some way, and they're doing whatever it takes to get from here to there. And they're enlisting all the help they can get along the way, because getting others on board with your ideas is one of the best ways to accomplish your goals. They'll align their own goals with yours if they agree with you strongly enough.

Great companies recognize that leadership is orthogonal to management, and that people can be highly influential leaders with or without direct reports. The management heirarchy isn't generally helping the leaders. If you're lucky enough to have truly great leaders in your org, the best thing you can do is get out of their way and let them lead.

Any time I hear someone say "I want to be a manager", I just want to smack them. But maybe it's just me.

Management in the Real World


It's wonderful when we have great leaders and visionaries around to lead the charge, but in practice our lives at tech companies are usually a bit more mundane than that. Also, a visionary who's too fired up (read: product manager) can develop a habit of discounting the laws of physics — laws about time, in particular — and asking you to give birth to a brand-new baby every 2 weeks.

You need the visionaries or you'll have one dull company, but it's also good to have people around who represent rationality. This is where actual managers come in, or at least they should.

Let's put aside what I said about leadership earlier, because great leaders and perfectly tuned teams are fairly rare. A more typical situation is that you're a new manager who has inherited a bunch of miserable engineers maintaining some crufty old legacy code for a product that's losing market share but is still generating enough revenue to fund your group, albeit with no room for new headcount. Sound familiar?

In situations like that, true leadership is still possible and desirable, but there are enough constraints to make it more of a long-term goal. You can't just drop the ball and send your team charging off in some new direction; you have existing products and customers to deal with.

This is where those management tips come in handy. Because if you're a bad manager, you've got serious problems ahead of you. The tech industry is still growing fast enough that good engineers won't stick with you if they're unhappy. Bad engineers might, but then you've got another set of problems.

If you don't know whether you're a bad manager, then you're a bad manager. It's the default state, the start-state, for managers everywhere. So just assume you're bad, and start working to get better at it. It's actually a pretty good assumption, because you are going to make some mistakes, even after you have lots of experience. Even if you're a good manager, you can always get better at it. And let's face it: you might actually be an awful manager. Most managers are average or below average, so statistically it's a pretty good bet that you're one of them. And it's not as if your team or your peers would ever tell you, so how would you really know?

OK, got it. We're bad managers. Let's get better at it.

Sadly, listing all the possible ways you could go wrong as a tech manager would fill fat books. There's no way to give you a reasonable list in a blog entry. So we'll have to stick with meta-tips: that is to say, tips about how to figure out how to be a better manager. Teaching us to fish so we can eat for a lifetime, and all that.

I've given you three pretty good ones so far. The first was empathy. That's all about having the rather deep realization that people are all pretty much like you in many ways, and their feelings matter a lot more than you probably think. I don't know how to teach empathy. Maybe get yourself a dog or cat, preferably not a pit bull, and then learn to love it. Once you realize just how much you and your dog or cat are alike, you'll be getting close. For instance, we all like to eat. You'd probably be surprised at how much time good managers spend thinking about food for the team, at least at companies that don't have catered lunch and dinner every day. I.e., yours.

Like I said, it's a meta-tip. Get in touch with the right side of your brain, all touchy-feely and stuff, and you'll suddenly start having all kinds of great ideas that make you a better manager.

That, and maybe one or two ideas that could get you fired and/or thrown in jail. So one concrete base-level tip would be to pay very close attention to your company's HR policies. They basically boil down to "don't do anything your mom wouldn't do." 'nuff said.

The second meta-tip was not to get into management at all. Be a leader, and try to do so at a non-dysfunctional organization. Then if management is thrust on you, your priorities will be... if not right, then at least better than they'd have been if you'd been dying to be a manager.

And my third meta-tip is to assume you're a bad manager, because you really can't go wrong with that assumption. Look for things you're doing wrong. Look for ways to improve. If you're not looking, you're probably not going to find them.

Management is hard. I'm serious. Just when you think you've got it all figured out, you'll run into some bizarre new situation. Or they'll give you more responsibility, or a harder problem space. Something always comes up. If nothing does come up — if things are all running smoothly and you're hardly having to work at it — then you've got a more insidious problem on your hands: if it all seems easy, then your company is probably sailing smoothly towards insignificance. Because I guarantee you that your competitors are working really, really hard. So in a sense, good management is hard by definition: the challenge is to balance pushing hard with the good of the team. Again: fuel for fat books here. No space to discuss it. But you get the idea.

How To Manage


Tune in next time. Blogs are so episodic; it just drives you nuts, doesn't it? Plus I'll probably disappear for another month, playing some video game.

But at least I'm not doing performance reviews.

Seriously, though, this blog has gone on long enough, so I'll have to leave the non-meta tips for another blog. For now, just remember. Empathy. If you have that, then even without the vision, the rest should follow nicely. You can go far just by being nice.

Jumat, 05 Mei 2006

Oblivion

So I haven't been blogging lately, because Oblivion doesn't have that feature. On the plus side, though, I've been leveling completely out of control because I was stupid enough to have Athletics as one of my primary skills.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, consider yourself lucky. As in, your luck attribute is maxed at 100. Because the game is so damned addictive that when you're not playing, you wind up looking outside and thinking "man, that lighting model is really realistic!" before you remember you're not actually playing at that particular moment. And then you get all bummed, because you're not playing Oblivion.

Oblivion is the latest in a series of very long games called "The Elder Scrolls", from Bethesda. It's a single-player first-person RPG, or "Role-Playing Game" for those of you who've lived under a rock for the past 30 years. RPGs are a genre defined by its immersively intense realism. For instance, when you're hurling fireballs at vampires, you can hardly tell them apart from real fireballs and vampires.

Bethesda called this latest incarnation "Oblivion" because it sounded better than "core dump" or "segmentation fault", but it has the same basic connotations. "Oblivion" is where the game sends your Windows sessions, at least if you're unfortunate enough to be running the game on any computer manufactured before the year 2017.

Crashes? *gasp* -- I bet you'll never guess what programming language it's written in.

Anyhoo, the frequent crashes are tolerable, because the game lets you save anywhere you want, and you can tell when it's getting ready to crash by watching the frame rate, which goes from frames per second to seconds per frame. The game also has a nice autosave feature, so that when a mountain lion rips your throat out, and you're lying on your back trying to subdue the lion by spurting blood all over it, the game reassures you with: "Autosave successful."

For those of you who played Morrowind, you'll find Oblivion to be comfortingly similar. There are a few differences, of course. One is that Oblivion's countryside is beautiful, whereas Morrowind was a hideous island dominated by volcanoes and disease storms and mud flats and rotting undead zombies, much like a C++ users convention.

In fact, walking around in Oblivion is one of the most appealing aspects of the game. You get so caught up admiring the beautiful flowers and trees and birds and ancient ruins and whatnot that you usually fail to notice the lightning bolt from the imp behind you until it fries the back of your head. Fortunately, you can always revert back to that autosave with the lion.

On the other hand, while Oblivion's scenery has grown breathtakingly lovely, the increased realism hasn't been so kind to the NPCs (Non-Player Characters, for you Rock People) in the game. The graphics have improved to the point where you can now see every last throbbing vein and clogged pore in their wrinkled, hung-over faces. And they all have a nasty habit of standing too close to you when they talk, so you also get an insider's view of their nostrils. Why did they have to make everyone so ugly? It's like the soap-opera director said of Moe the Bartender: "I wanted Mary-Ann-on-Gilligan's-Island ugly, not ugly ugly!"

Plus, in order to achieve the realistic facial expressions during conversations, they evidently had to make all the characters look vaguely alike, as if they all had one parent in common. So they're worse than merely ugly: they're ugly relatives. The game's supposed to be an escape from reality, but at times it feels more like an escape to Arkansas.

But it's cool that they have such realistic facial expressions when they talk to you, so I suppose it's worth it. The NPCs' expressions generally change to match what they're saying. And, just like in real life, the characters will often seem to be staring fixedly at a zit in the middle of your forehead, because yes, you guessed it: you're ugly too. That is, unless you spent a long time customizing your character's face before you started playing, as I did. My wife and I spent well over an hour agonizing over every last detail of my (female) character's face, and she turned out pretty cute. But most of the in-game characters are just plain old fugly.

In addition to painfully realistic characters, the game also has extensive voice acting. Every single interaction with every character in the game is voice-acted, which is truly amazing, at least at first. Eventually it becomes a little annoying because there are only a few voice actors, and you quickly start recognizing their voices. "Oh, it's Mr. Rogers again." "Oh, there's Boris from Snatch again."

And for some reason many of the voice actors, particularly the men, apparently think they're sounding dramatic when they randomly and violently modulate their intonation. In practice, however, when a voice ACTOR does this!?, with UPs and doooowns and lows and *sudden* -HIGHS-, it sounds more like he or she has a choke-chain tied around his or her testicles, and he or she keeps tripping on it.

But really... aside from the frequent crashes and frightfully ugly characters and comical voice acting, the game is just awesome. They do all kinds of things I've never seen in a video game before, and you probably haven't either.

For one thing, the monster AI is exceptionally good. Enemies use all sorts of evasion tactics and generally fight almost as well as human opponents. And they no longer stay in their areas: they'll chase your ass right out of the dungeon and all the way into town. I know this because my character is a "light armor" specialist, which means I get frigging pounded (and I mean *hard*) by everything in the game, including sewer rats. I honestly don't think there would be any detectable difference if I took off all my armor and fought with the nude mod applied. So I specialize in fighting while running backwards at top speed, which generally moves us into a new area where I can attract even more monsters.

The cool thing is that when monsters run outside, they'll fight pretty much anything that moves. If an Imperial Guard is riding by, or some random townsperson, or even another monster, chances are pretty good that the monsters chasing you will suddenly be chasing them. I've even stopped my horse to watch an Imperial Guard romp on a troll. I'd have offered to help, but... you know... I had this, um, excuse.

For the record, Trolls in Oblivion are just green apes. They evidently went through the whole Zoo (I've encountered rats, wolves, bears, and mountain lions outdoors so far), and then at the last minute they decided that trolls are cooler than apes, so they turned 'em green and that was that. It's sort of a sad take on Tolkien, if you ask me. Or Norweigian trolls, which are even further removed from their Oblivious counterparts.

Anyway, as you can clearly see, this is one of my it's-Friday hence let's-get-hammered rants, so I didn't really have much of a point, except to say that if you're not playing Oblivion, then I highly, nay strongly recommend that you don't start, or you'll suddenly develop an aversion to Real Life, and who knows how long it'll last. Probably until you're fired, I'm guessing, at which point Real Life will become at least passingly interesting again, although not in any happy way.

Oblivion is... what can you say? It's a great game. A great, big game. A big, crashy game. Yes. Oblivion is a crashy game. It's a case study in why the world shouldn't be using C++. But in spite of that, they did a great job. As is always the case in the game industry, they spent too much time on the graphics and not enough time on the gameplay — I still think I'll ultimately log far more hours in Nethack than any Bethesda game — but it's still very cool, and I'm having fun with it.

It's not their fault, of course: they have to impress critics in a very short time, during the first conference where the game is demoed. So everyone spends their time making the game look realistic. Fortunately, there really is a game behind Oblivion, and it's a fun one: graphics can't carry a game on their own, no matter what the 12-year-olds might claim on the newsgroups.

You'd think single-player games are on the decline, but MMORPGs haven't figured out that the vast majority of their potential market hates subscriptions, and yet would gladly pay their life savings for cheats and hints and ways to differentiate themselves in the mass of unwashed players. Someday they'll get this, maybe, and the massivey-multiplayer game industry will be based off advertisements and micropayments, the way everything else on the internet is these days. Someday. Maybe.

But also don't forget: single-player games have the distinct advantage that they're, well... single-player. They're all about you. Like my friend Brunson says: when you hear an NPC talking about the exploits of some hero, you know it's about you. You don't have to deal with all the assholes you run into in multiplayer games, and believe you me, I don't use the term "asshole" lightly. MMORPGs bring out the worst in 12-year-olds, or perhaps they bring out the 12-year-old in adults. Whatever. The point is that when you play a single-player game it can have a plot, and you don't have to compete for resources with anyone but yourself, and there are definite plusses there.

I wonder if someday someone will figure out how to combine the best of single-player with the best of (massively) multi-player. Who knows.

Anyway, um, if you don't hear from me for a while, you know where I'll be. Working for my employer on stuff I'm being paid for, of course! Jeez!

Only two more working days 'til Monday... I think I'll go clean out some goblin caves. Know what I mean?