I haven’t had downtime for bandering (working straight weeks), but did want to write some early morning feelings that are slightly related to my capitalism post...more related to my personal grievances, to be honest.
--
My co-producer leaves next week, with no one slated to fill in anytime soon. It’s hitting me hard because she’s talented, compassionate, and encouraging. Not enough hyperbole in saying her confidence in me has been eye-opening. She’s established, essential to everything, and still, not considered worth keeping around by our employer.
These industries fucking hate us. Yes, we make cool shit with cool people. But for what? We’ll get perks out the ass, but no benefits. PR packages and lunches, but no full-time contracts. Blue checks, but no unions. I’ve started disliking how saying what I do makes people look at me different. Pepper me questions in line at the club, over drinks, in fucking bed. My career is more impressive to them than my intrinsic value, somehow makes me more important than I used to be when I was just a provider. My name gets invoked all wrong. It boils my blood. I could get pink-slipped on Monday and need to turn back to slinking from sketchy outcall-to-outcall just to make rent again. What happens then. Where are you then.
People send me emails asking me for advice and mentorship. I only give the former. I wish I could grab their heads with both of my hands, eye bugging, and go full Colin. Say, “Listen. Listen to me. This is hell. There is no such thing as putting in your dues. The choices you make don’t matter. You can do great work and create masterpieces and you’ll still lose. You will burn out. You won’t recover. You’ll always lose.”
But okay, okay. Okay. There are roses. It’s not all falling apart. The trap is thinking you are alone. The trap is picking up the ashtray instead of organizing with your communities and figuring out how to advocate for each other. The trap is a fork and a loop and not taking off the pearl necklace.
The pro-wrestling AU that doesn’t exist because we’re all cowards.
Stefan comes from a wrestling family. Dad is Sugar Puff, a B-grade unassuming babyface; his wife was Frosty, a diva who was written off the main circuits following a botched highspot at an away match broke her legs. (Deep down, Stefan resents his father for not taking her place.) Stefan’s mum retired and became a championship trainer; brought up her son in the craft, practicing flips and body slams at the community pool.
Stefan enters the big leagues as the lightweight babyface dubbed White Rabbit. His earnest “dream to win the belt for mum’s honour” shtick is very endearing, but for some reason the audiences go wild when he goes berserk in his matches. He gets a big push for a heelturn by the Tucker promoters because of internet reactions to his ring freakouts, much to his dismay. Gets good at working shoot, pretending to go off-script and acting horribly. Is terrified of every match against “the Doctor,” a suited woman with a vicious pile drive and penchant for nunchuks.
Tweener Colin--just goes by The Colin Ritman--pisses off promoters because he keeps breaking kayfabe in promos, pointing out how fake an opponent’s move is or bringing up their IRL personas; never gets fired because of his excellent A-Shows. Specializes in running multiple storylines, so whenever he’s teamed with Stefan their angle usually becomes extremely meta and interactive: Colin works the crowd, asking them if they really want to make Stefan hit his own father with a chair. “You do know they live together, right?" In their tag teams, known for commenting on Stefan’s wrong choices.
Kitty’s the costumer who everyone adores. Plays Colin’s wife in promos, depending on the storyline. Colin would often be MIA for his gorilla positioning, creating a running gag where she would run around behind-the-scenes, screaming, “Where’s Colin?” wildly.
And obviously, Thakur is Vince Mann and Satpal is his valet.
Bandersnatch, capitalism, and gamedev work culture: a microessay
The first major fork is Stefan’s acceptance of the job. It’s a YES and a NO, but the NO is really a YES, BUT.
It is excruciating how the latter didn’t negotiate for more buts. Stefan, like many naive young programmers, fell into the trap of believing that breaking into game development means giving up all control to your employer. If he sets a deadline, you meet it. Doesn’t matter when. Sinclair Research, producer of the ZX Spectrum, was absolutely notorious for setting impossible publicized deadlines. It was meant to curb procrastination, but it really just burnt out a lot of employees and enforced a work-until-you-die mentality that’s still so pervasive today.
I think analyzing Colin from a workers-first perspective is important; he’s irreverent with Thakur, prone to taking breaks. It’s written as a “he gets fucked up, he’s a free spirit,” but I really do think it shows how Colin is wary of the industry. He goes on self-directed breaks because he knows he won’t ever get a proportionate one to his workload. He doesn’t buy a Lamborghini because he knows how precarious the game bubble is. I think it’s worth interpreting the acid scene through this too; warnings about PAC-Man living in a nightmare could be analogous to programmers like themselves scurrying in the maze trap that is the game industry. The demons are mental constructs, the kind that enforce acclaim and happiness as achievable only on corporate terms.
On the other hand, Stefan is inexperienced enough to give himself up entirely to the system. We see him stress over his own perceived inability to code efficiently, rather than ever question if his boss had set problematic work expectations. Working remotely shouldn’t mean working without guidance.
Stefan’s anxiety stems from the belief that if his game fails, that reflects badly on him. That it actually means something in the grand scheme of being alive. When it really should be, if Tuckersoft doesn’t give his concept piece the time and space it needs, he should take it elsewhere. That inability to see how he’s a cog in the machine is his downfall.
[ i would agree with this if it wasnt for the fact that him saying no was because we chose no for him. and he literally couldn't control himself saying no. same with biting his nails, or pouring tea over or destroying the computer. he never knows why he does the things he does. he even told his therapist he didn't know what made him say no he just said it. because we chose it. had nothing to do with being exploited. ]
Hope this is the right format for replying. I’m really interested in the meta-narratives we can understand from Bandersnatch’s false choices --they are false, really--if we use different theories, frameworks, and schools of thought for understanding both the actual story and the way the story is presented.
For this little post, I’m coming from a point-of-view where I’ve worked with and in modern independent game development. Right now, we’re seeing a lot of developers speaking up about how overwork and toxicity is normalized. The crunch is dangerous.
This post wasn’t about literal options or placing a verbatim reading on the canon. It was more about how one can read Stefan’s lack of agency and work-or-snap mindset as a phenomenon that parallels capitalist exploitation and disregard for human life in the game development industry. If Stefan was aware of ethical worker-first practices, if that was normalized in his industry, his paths would have looked a lot different.
Bandersnatch, capitalism, and gamedev work culture: a microessay
The first major fork is Stefan’s acceptance of the job. It’s a YES and a NO, but the NO is really a YES, BUT.
It is excruciating how the latter didn’t negotiate for more buts. Stefan, like many naive young programmers, fell into the trap of believing that breaking into game development means giving up all control to your employer. If he sets a deadline, you meet it. Doesn’t matter when. Sinclair Research, producer of the ZX Spectrum, was absolutely notorious for setting impossible publicized deadlines. It was meant to curb procrastination, but it really just burnt out a lot of employees and enforced a work-until-you-die mentality that’s still so pervasive today.
I think analyzing Colin from a workers-first perspective is important; he’s irreverent with Thakur, prone to taking breaks. It’s written as a “he gets fucked up, he’s a free spirit,” but I really do think it shows how Colin is wary of the industry. He goes on self-directed breaks because he knows he won’t ever get a proportionate one to his workload. He doesn’t buy a Lamborghini because he knows how precarious the game bubble is. I think it’s worth interpreting the acid scene through this too; warnings about PAC-Man living in a nightmare could be analogous to programmers like themselves scurrying in the maze trap that is the game industry. The demons are mental constructs, the kind that enforce acclaim and happiness as achievable only on corporate terms.
On the other hand, Stefan is inexperienced enough to give himself up entirely to the system. We see him stress over his own perceived inability to code efficiently, rather than ever question if his boss had set problematic work expectations. Working remotely shouldn’t mean working without guidance.
Stefan’s anxiety stems from the belief that if his game fails, that reflects badly on him. That it actually means something in the grand scheme of being alive. When it really should be, if Tuckersoft doesn’t give his concept piece the time and space it needs, he should take it elsewhere. That inability to see how he’s a cog in the machine is his downfall.
Live-spots of technology while watching Bandersnatch (excluding TVs and monitors, although I will say we do see a variety of brands! Sony, Mitsubishi, Philips *used in Stefan’s living room + jail cell*, Pilot):
Stefan in bed: okay, technically not tech, but the Deus Ex Machina poster hanging above him? Total chef kiss at that placement.
Stefan on bus: looks like original Sony Walkman 1979. Didn’t see a logo on the headphones, probably Sony MDR 5A; maybe 1982 Koss headphones?
When we meet Colin: ZX Spectrum, TRS-80; Rotel RH-711 headphones; should be a Sinclair joystick on top of the monitor, but the red trigger placement looks more like a Quickshot.
Showing of Bandersnatch: Competition Pro joystick.
Soft resets: Okay, I know the “it’s Colin’s setup” has been pointed out before and these are technically monitors, but this one is VERY interesting. We see a Sony on the left, a Commodore 1702 on the right. “I don’t own a Commodore.” And yet, we’re in Stefan’s room? Not sure if it was choice order in mine, but I thought it was neat how all the breakdown choices (spilling, smashing) showed up on Commodore.
The stressed Sept 12 meeting: JFD Doc. is taped on a Matsoki L-250 VHS. Looks kinda like a Poloroid logo knockoff.
Colin’s living room: ashamed to say, I don’t know what brands either of the two computers are. Might do a search tomorrow.
Also oh my god, DOES HE OWN TWO MINIMOOGS???? HOW DID I MISS THAT.
Adult Pearl: The site she mentions for emulation is RetroArch. Interestingly, her OS is Leo Technology. (The Pearl ending is the only one with different soft reset monitors, Sony on left, Radio Shack on right...ashtray stacked on two commodores on far left...)
Post-ashtray call: I don’t have any brand for the phone, just thought it was fun how controller-shaped it was.
I’ve been really enjoying this week-long hobby so far of writing a bit of Colfan every day. Becoming clear there are some areas needed to improve on; posting for self-accountability.
Defaulting into writing one-two pagers. Need to treat these as less assigned on deadline, more creative expression.
Bad at scene-building. Characterization needs to go deeper.
We went into this with the intention of interactivity and branching narratives. If Twine and CYOA format already done, will need to look at others. (Maybe T*xt*r* if J doesn’t find out haha.)
To research: more academic game theory and history sources, period-specific culture and literature, and *gestures at all of England*
Summary: A Discord prompt for a double date, Stefan + Colin and Kitty + girlfriend.
***
It starts off as a drug deal. Colin’s low on tabs, Haigha needs spiro. They discover each other’s deprivations over gin and a shared joint at Vauxhall.
Colin was used to Vauxhall and its cramped smells far later at night, when thumping music would course through his body like an electric current, charging into whoever was writhing against him. It would be nice to take Stefan here, he thought, picturing the pink flashing lights painting starshine on Stefan’s sweaty grinning face, the boy high off his mind and falling onto him, hungry eyes watching his body cling to Colin’s like a raft. Fun to watch, he’d be. It would probably take some convincing: maybe leaning against the balcony rails for a while, babysitting a rum and coke with Stefan’s head tucked under his chin.
He’s filled with a cozy horny feeling and that makes him nod dazedly, not hearing Haigha’s own lovesick bragging about her new sweetheart; not hearing how they had moved in a week after attending the same anarchist bike repair workshop, typical sapphics; not hearing how they decided to adopt a cat together, an albino tabby that Colin would then have realized might have been his.
Colin had no idea she had stolen his roommate and their cat at the time, otherwise he might have warned Haigha about Kitty’s obsession. When she wasn’t scanning records, Haigha was an intern at iD, Kitty’s aesthetic bible. Or at least, one of several holy texts (The Face, trailing behind Smash Hits, and whatever the Holahs venerated in their BodyMap adverts).
But Colin heard nothing, so they parted with an agreement to meet at a cafe two blocks from Tuckersoft tomorrow afternoon for Sunday brunch. Haigha promised she’d bring her girl to get his stamp of disapproval. They polished off their drinks and joint just as a gaggle of baby drags and their mum waddled past the bar, each cooing for a hit.
***
When Colin gets home, Stefan is scraping tuna into Pax’s bowl. Stefan notes they hadn’t seen her since Kitty’s sublet wrapped. Colin kisses him hello, then sinks into the armchair.
“She’ll be here if she wants to,” Colin says, pulling Stefan into his lap. It’s very absent owner of him to say, but Stefan doesn’t seem to mind: secretly, he looks smug with that answer, as if getting Colin all to himself is worth a missing animal or two. He nips at Colin’s jawbone meekly, his own way of asking how the night went. Tonight Stefan’s got that look in his eyes, the kind that adds an extra word to his name. It thrills him how starved Stefan can get after just a few hours alone, eager to please and agree with any silly thing he says, but too shy to initiate. Instead, he finds excuses to touch, clamouring to light Colin’s roll-ups, patter over to his records and play what Colin wants to hear. Sways to songs in that way where even from behind Colin can tell his eyes are closed, lost in the rhythm, hips just begging to be rocked against.
They sit there talking and bopping to Isao Tomita for an hour, really Colin monologuing about Alamogordo and how alien abductions were an inevitable consequence of the landfill while Stefan inhaled his smoke.
They end up ordering curry for dinner, Stefan’s vindaloo too spicy for him to bear. Colin watches him chug all their lassi, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his eyes watering from the heat. It gets him hot, makes him easy to Stefan’s sly pleading for the last of the tabs. Colin falls asleep half-hard, listening to Stefan’s incoherent mumbling about how the right route might be through the litterbox.
***
Stefan is still high at brunch, fading enough to be incredibly self-conscious. Colin plies him with water, massages crop circles in the small of his back. He keeps his gaze averted when Haigha arrives, saying hello to her blonde side-parted ponytail.
“I sold you Phaedra,” she says, squinting at Stefan. “Or was it Bermuda Triangle?”
Stefan looks up at that, eyes bulging like she was a police officer demanding he confess to patricide.
“Er,” he says. “Uh.”
“One or the other,” she says, with a wave of her hand. She plops down, then pulls a sheet of cheshire cats from a Westwood clutch. Slides it to Colin, who throws a pill jar at her.
“It’s nice to finally meet you” she says, helping herself to their chips. “Ace programmer over here thinks you hung the stars in the sky.”
“Did I?” Stefan asks, too honestly.
A silence followed.
“Colin, you dirty old man,” Haigha accuses.
“What?” Colin says, defensive. “He’s 21.”
“He’s a fucking fetus,” she says, kicking his shin under the table. “Christ, if you weren’t the hormone hermit I’d get you hanged.”
Stefan opens his month to ask about the title when Kitty arrives, her lavender hair and cheetah print fur coat causing him to double-take. Colin triple-takes, furrows his brows as if deep in thought, and then makes a decisive nod.
“She’s a mad woman. A wanted criminal. A thief of destiny. And leftovers. And cats,” he says, pointing at Kitty.
“And she never picks up after herself,” he says, pointing at Haigha. “We roomed at boarding, left her boxers all over the fucking dorm.”
Kitty gives him the finger and Haigha leans in to kiss it. They make eyes at each other and Colin sighs deeply.
Organizing Bandersnatch theories and thoughts at 4 AM.
Colin and Kitty amalgamate for Hatter persona. Been scratching my head over Pearl and if she configures/the family structure is a Hatter stand. Possible references: Alice in Wonderland (1983) has an episode about the “Pearl of Wisdom,” a family heirloom of the queen of hearts. Maybe she’s a nod to the Curious Oysters in Disney’s Alice In Wonderland, a group of baby oysters who stray from their mother (who held a pearl) and meet an unfortunate end.
My best bet: Pearl is named after “string of pearls,” a storytelling method in game development. Players are given the ability to choose in these games, but the storyline remains linear. The string symbolizes the period of time in the game that is predetermined by the developer. The pearl is the time spent free to make their own decisions. Interestingly, this is how Jesse Schell describes the method in The Art of Game Design: “Many people criticize this method as “not really being interactive,” but players sure do enjoy it.”
The Commodore really does have a better sound chip (SiD produced less waveforms than the NES chip, but more nuanced/varied voice, an overall excellent synthesizer), but that was a weird thing for Colin to point out about the system overall when so much of it surpassed the ZX Spectrum. I haven’t played any Commodore games IRL, on emulators, so I wonder about gameplay’s tactile experience.
Although Jeff Minter is cited as the inspiration for Colin officially, some folks have also mentioned Jon Ritman. Obvious surname aside, he was the ZX’s ace programmer. Been reading a bit about what he was like as a person. Some stuff of interest: headoverheels2 paints him as a prodigy, coding at a young age. Had his hand in many isometric games. Crash, a super popular mag from back in the day, describes his work style in a 1986 intervew as prioritizing the feel of a game. His flow seems pretty similar to Colin’s “hustle-and-fuck-off-to-Amsterdam” too. “ “I tend to work in intense spurts,” Jon admitted, “I don’t like to put a problem down until it is solved. And I did have three months off between August and October last year — I just wanted a rest...”
Wanted to start a fan blog because I keep turning over this glorified FMV in my head.
About myself: 25. Work in journalism full-time. Semi-retired sex worker. In a previous life, worked as a community organizer for independent game creators.
