Review: The Player of Games, by Iain M. Banks

The Player of Games is political space opera and the second book in the shared Culture setting. As with most Culture books, the reading order is not particularly important. It won the 1989 Locus Award for best science fiction novel and sometimes competes with Use of Weapons as the consensus best Culture novel.

This review is a re-read and yet another experiment in how to re-review a book. This time, I decided to write a full second review with substantial spoilers so that I can talk in more detail about the book. If you want to avoid spoilers, or just want to see how my thoughts have evolved from my first reading, see my original review from 2005.

Gurgeh plays games. He is probably the best strategy game player in the entirety of the galaxy-spanning Culture. He has written papers on game theory, won innumerable major championships, and is a celebrity in the circle of like-minded aficionados.

Gurgeh is also bored and in the middle of the Culture equivalent of a mid-life crisis. As the story opens, he's vaguely unsatisfied and adrift, unenthused by his normal activities, and searching vaguely for something that will break through his ennui. He is caught by surprise by the thrill he gets from a moment's misunderstanding in which an opponent suspects him of cheating, which sets him up to be (apparently) clumsily blackmailed by a deeply unpleasant drone named Mawhrin-Skel.

SPOILERS BELOW. If you have not read this book, consider stopping here and instead reading my original no spoiler review.

The first hundred pages of The Player of Games is a slow, somewhat plodding introduction to Gurgeh, his social circle, and life in (one part of) the Culture. I remember being fascinated by this part the first time I read this book. It was only the second Culture novel I read and the first set in the Culture proper, so the world-building underlying this odd post-scarcity utopia on a vast intelligent habitat with sentient drones, complex privacy rules, endless cocktail parties, and apparently directionless socialites was intriguingly unlike the other science fiction I was reading at the time. This time through, I have to admit I was less impressed.

Gurgeh is not very likable, and his desultory mid-life crisis is a little boring. None of his friends have enough depth to appear as more than side notes, in part because Gurgeh doesn't seem to care enough about any of them to make them interesting to the reader. I've since read seven other Culture novels, so Banks's cocktail parties hold less charm and I was impatient for the real action to begin.

These chapters are still important, though, because they establish how utterly average Gurgeh is. He has one unique talent, a deep affinity with and obsession with strategy games, and is otherwise a bit of a depressed narcissist with a few casual relationships, a friend that he barely confides in, and a comfortable and familiar life. He is not in any way a hero or a charismatic figure; he just happens to be exceptionally good at one thing, enough to make him famous among people who care about that one thing and probably unknown to anyone else apart from the occasional idly perused news headline. He is the Culture's equivalent of the world chess champion.

The Contact division of the Culture has a problem. The Empire of Azad in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud is a nasty, expansionist culture of the sort that Contact would like to deal with before it causes broader problems. The Culture's normal approaches are thwarted by an unusual organizing principle: The empire is built around and takes its name from the game of Azad, a highly complex strategy game developed over thousands of years. Azad is the civil service exams, means of political and religious dispute resolution, selection mechanism for the emperor, and civic religion. Faced with that oddity, Contact turned to Special Circumstances, the Culture's more aggressive and less restrained way of dealing with tricky problems. Special Circumstances, in turn, needs someone who can learn how to play the game of Azad. They want Gurgeh to take a very long trip.

For all of Gurgeh's dissatisfaction, he's not impulsive enough to take a five year journey away from his life and everyone he knows just to play a novel game. Conveniently, Mawhrin-Skel's blackmail resolves this reluctance.

The game of Azad requires some suspension of disbelief. Banks provides a few glimpses at the mechanics of the game, but those details are insufficient to reconstruct the rules, and some of the claims made about its properties are improbable at best. The best mental model I could build for it is a strategy or simulation game built around units and territory control, with supplemental side games used to build up resources for the main boards, but it's more of a plot device and a set piece than a world-building invention. The significance of Azad the game is its role in society: The Empire of Azad believes they have constructed a game whose complexity so closely models reality that the skills required for success in the game are precisely the skills required for success in the empire.

The Empire of Azad is wrong, and this is one of the core themes of The Player of Games. As with many Culture novels, what Special Circumstances tells Gurgeh is, at best, incomplete. Gurgeh is a refutation of the basis of belief in Azad; this is why it is important thematically that he is an average, somewhat unlikable citizen of the Culture whose only special characteristic is skill at learning and playing games.

Azad is the myth of meritocracy given physical form as a game. It provides the anchor of the empire for the same reason that societies on Earth place enormous weight on standardized tests, capitalist success, or public debates. All societies face the problem of selecting good leaders and testing opposing beliefs, and all societies attempt to find some form of shortcut, some set of general principles, tests, or objective metrics used to select the best person via a process that people consider plausible and fair. The game of Azad is a paragon of apparently meritocratic process. No matter who you are or what your background is, if you excel at the game that, in theory, objectively tests your skills, you are given a position of power.

In practice, the Empire of Azad is not that naive. Manipulation outside of the game happens, only some players have the opportunity and resources to spend years learning the game at a deep level, and only their dominant sex truly stands a chance in games that matter. But neither is Azad's place in society a fiction. There is corruption around the edges, and a lot of people are filtered out before the games begin, but the highest echelons of society are true believers. The game does decide both rank and policy; Banks is arguing against a strong form of apparently working meritocracy.

Gurgeh represents a refutation of this meritocracy through the mechanism that breaks every supposed meritocracy: The map is not and cannot be the territory. Any objective evaluation criteria is necessarily separate from what it is trying to measure, and in that separation there is always an opportunity. Gurgeh has none of the background, training, or mindset expected for a player of Azad because he could not possibly care less about any of the things Azad represents to the Empire. What he has instead is a preternatural skill at games and vast experience with the most intricate strategy games the Culture, a much larger society, has been able to devise. He also has both the patience and the resources to devote himself entirely to learning a game for several years, and past experience in doing that with other games.

If Azad represents the civil service exams, Gurgeh is the person who has no interest in ruling but adores memorizing facts and taking tests. The theory behind the exams is that the skills to pass the exam only come with the correct mindset to do the job for which the exam is testing. Gurgeh is an existence proof that this is not always the case.

Banks also uses Azad to show another aspect of the failure of meritocracy: A society whose rulers are chosen through a competition takes on the shape of that competition. The Empire of Azad is run by the winners of competitive games, so the empire is a winner-take-all system of dominance and status hierarchy. Here, I think Banks lays the point on a little thick; the empire is an irredeemable hellhole of misogyny, sexual abuse, slavery, genocide, and military colonialism to a degree that is a bit hard to justify solely from the game. There is a beautiful turning point about two-thirds of the way through the book where Gurgeh's face is shoved into just how vile Azad society is and reconsiders his approach to the tournament as a result, and I think it may have been a bit stronger if the morality had been a little less blatant and absolute.

To the extent that Gurgeh has political beliefs, he represents a Culture flavor of soft liberalism. He has opinions about acceptable and unacceptable ways to treat people, but he grew up in a utopia and his opinions are mostly theoretical. When he sees just how vile people can be outside of that utopia, he is revolted and appalled and redoubles his efforts to fight that society in the only way he knows how, inside of a game. This part of the book follows the standard, if enjoyable, plot of a flawed but fundamentally decent person discovering a true injustice and becoming enraged at it.

In a lot of books, that would have been where the plot stops. Banks is doing something more subtle and more interesting, though. Gurgeh wipes the board with his next challenger, but that soft liberalism eventually proves inadequate. To learn the game of Azad and to play in the tournament, Gurgeh has been wrapping himself in Azad culture and its language, and in that frame of mind he is losing the climactic game of the book. It's only when he is pushed to think in Marain, the native language of the Culture, that he understands what is happening in the game and how to defeat Nicosar, the emperor.

This, on the surface, is a bit too close to the strong hypothesis of linguistic relativity to be entirely plausible, but such an objection would miss the point that Banks is making here. Marain is a construct, the product of considerable effort within the Culture to match language to the most nuance and complexity that brains can understand, and it is a language, one of the most social and collective artifacts a society can produce. Gurgeh is a remarkable individual with an impressive talent, but individual skill and achievement can only take him so far. The critical final piece is the support of societal infrastructure intentionally built and maintained to help him make better decisions.

Once I noticed that point, I saw it everywhere in the book. The empire repeatedly attempts to subvert or distract Gurgeh with drugs, pleasure, politics, or danger, and at each point there is some critical piece of Culture social infrastructure that blunts the attack. Illicit substances and forbidden vices are less tempting to someone for whom the illicit has been demystified by the Culture's gentler approach to rules and boundaries. Embedded biological mechanisms allow him to divert drugs so that they don't affect him. At first, it's easy to read this as an exercise of self-control, but on this re-read I saw how much behind-the-scenes infrastructure supports Gurgeh's ability to ignore temptation.

This social support notably does not take the form of some ideological principle or moral framework. Gurgeh is not a monk or an ascetic, as is obvious from the first third of the book, and he has no political ideology to speak of. He is a flawed person with a streak of danger-seeking and self-aggrandizement, which the Culture exploited to get him involved in Azad. But through a lot of hard work, technological and social, the Culture has given him a robust foundation and a set of mental and biological tools that make him remarkably hard to corrupt. The implication is that if Gurgeh has that support, so does every other member of the Culture. It's neither a religion or an ideology; it's well-maintained infrastructure, complex and nuanced and pragmatic, and composed of innumerable small solutions to specific problems.

I think the true climax of this book takes place the night before the final day of the game, in the tower meeting between Gurgeh and Nicosar. Gurgeh has realized that he's already won; there's nothing Nicosar can do to salvage the game. He's also seen that the game represents a cultural conflict and conversation between the Culture and Azad and he's overwhelmed by the beauty of that communication and sadness that the game is about to be over. Gurgeh's true passion is the game. It is doubtless easier for him to be magnanimous because he's winning, but he also loves the structure of the game itself and what two players can create in a sort of collaborative competition.

Gurgeh tries to express all of this to Nicosar. It is one of the most centrist liberal moments I've ever read in a novel, the pure essence of "reaching across the aisle" or "disagreeing agreeably." Gurgeh has seen something beautiful, something he's created with Nicosar, a moment of true communication, and he wants to share it. Surely Nicosar sees the same thing; surely now that he sees Gurgeh has won, he can appreciate the board structure, savor the moment, understand the transient beauty of a game that is about to end and how perfectly it captures the meeting of their different cultures. That moment does Gurgeh real credit. It's a rare sign of emotional and spiritual depth in a character who often seems superficial.

Nicosar meets this outreach with unhinged, furious contempt. He despises everything Gurgeh represents, everything the Culture is, and the next day he tries to kill Gurgeh on the board of the game.

It is a devastating critique of liberal tolerance, all the more so because Gurgeh's attitude and outreach is truly admirable. It is perhaps the most sympathetic moment that Gurgeh has in the entire book, the moment where the reader thinks "oh, I get it, I understand what he really cares about." Gurgeh assumes that Nicosar is not his position or culture, that they have made a moment of connection that transcends all the awful things he previously learned about the empire of Azad. That Nicosar, despite being the emperor of the society that is currently doing so many things Gurgeh finds repulsive, cannot be as bad as his society. And Nicosar considers that outreach to be weak, disgusting, and vile, and does everything that he can to destroy it.

One of the oddest twists of our current moment is the obsession that some billionaires have with stories that are moral arguments against exactly what those billionaires are currently doing. The most obvious example is Peter Thiel, who is obsessed with The Lord of the Rings and has devoted his life to becoming Saruman, a character who is notably not one of the protagonists. It's as if something in them recognizes the power of the story, but some deep shame or narcissism or simple aversion allows them to completely ignore what the story means.

Elon Musk is obsessed with the Culture novels. He names the SpaceX rockets following Culture Ship naming conventions and has claimed that one of his goals is to bring about a Culture-style utopia. And in 1989, years before anyone had ever heard of him, Banks cast him as the villain of The Player of Games. There is so much of Nicosar in Musk: the superficial charm, the limited brilliance (Nicosar is a very good Azad player), the ambition, the pride, and the vicious, spitting contempt for everything the Culture represents at every level deeper than superficial materialism. And Banks is as clear about his opinion of Nicosar as he is about anything in any Culture novel.

One of the oldest fictional answers to what a society does with people like Nicosar is the consequences of hubris. By being unable to accept defeat, by holding a vision of the world so tightly, they become brittle and unstable and bring about their own collapse. In a broad sense, that is what happens in The Player of Games with a bit of pushing from Special Circumstances. By the politics of the game, Nicosar had already won; the results of Gurgeh's earlier games had already been faked, the final game had no political consequences, and everyone who knew its true outcome could be disposed of. Gurgeh's win could have been covered up and ignored. But Nicosar could not endure the thought that he would be beaten by someone like Gurgeh, playing Azad the way that Gurgeh was playing it. Gurgeh had to be destroyed on the board of the game; Nicosar's pride did not allow any other outcome, even if it meant Nicosar's death.

However, Special Circumstances didn't let hubris be the end of the story. In the climax of the book, the drone protecting Gurgeh also makes sure that Nicosar dies. There is a fig leaf of plausible deniability, but it's so obvious that even the unobservant Gurgeh sees through it immediately. It's hard to escape the feeling that was Banks's answer to what to do with people like Nicosar: They cannot live within society, because they will not live peacefully within society.

I enjoyed The Player of Games as much this time through as I did the first time, but for entirely different reasons. In my first read, I focused on the world-building of the Culture, the political machinations, and the concept of games as conversations between the players. This time, I was struck by the political commentary just below the surface. Special Circumstances wanted to resolve the problem of the Empire of Azad without a military conflict and occupation that would be long, brutal, expensive, and demoralizing. They found an answer that relied on the diversity of the Culture. A vast, utopian civilization in which people can pursue whatever interests make them happy produces innumerable microspecialized oddities, people with astonishing talents in some small field that only a tiny fraction of people care about. It produces, in other words, innumerable keys for locks that you may never encounter, but which are invaluable if you happen to stumble across that lock.

Gurgeh is not a hero. He is not a paragon of moral virtue, or even a charming charismatic, He is an entirely average member of an extraordinary society, the beneficiary of thousands of years of concerted effort at producing a robust, flexible foundation on which to raise robust, flexible citizens with a shared sense of basic morality. Those people, by themselves, do not solve all of life's problems; the structure of Special Circumstances and its willingness to bend rules in order to maintain them is the tension and deus ex machina in all of the Culture novels. But much of the strength of Special Circumstances is that it has an entire civilization of people like Gurgeh to draw upon when it needs them.

It has those people because the Culture comprehensively rejects competitive meritocracy, something that some readers of the Culture novels appear incapable of comprehending.

Rating: 9 out of 10

I've spent about 100 hours of work over the past month to make sure git-annex can build without dependencies that contain LLM generated code. At least so far.

https://git-annex.branchable.com/no_llm_code/

Needing to review a program's whole dependency tree on an ongoing basis is apparently what programming has come to?

I've found some real stinkers. Large LLM generated changes being reverted in the next release without any explanation. An incoherent 1489 line commit message with 10,000 lines of changes to a 26,000 LOC code base. A LLM prompt to copy code from another project that seems to have only avoided being copyright infringement due to luck.

I now have additional information about the quality of dependencies which will surely influence future decisions. As far as I can see, that's the only positive benefit of this work.

I realize that I am probably trying to hold back the tide at this point. That appears to be why Software Freedom Conservancy punted, and I doubt that the FSF will do any better.

As these dominos fall, I am reconsidering my participation in these communities. But I continue my work and support my users.

It may seem easy to prompt a LLM with

Add fourmolu config and restyled

neat

format a module

And commit the result and call yourself a 10xer. But please consider the broader impact of your actions. (In the above case, that project lost my further collaboration on it.)

The masterwork of Terry A. Davis is his eclectic operating system, TempleOS, which he worked on until his tragic death in 2018. In terms of technical excellence, TempleOS rates well in some respects and poorly in others. For example, it earns the achievement, coveted in OS dev circles, of being self-hosted.¹ TempleOS is written in Terry’s own bespoke dialect of C and includes an editor, interpreter, and compiler, as well as a number of original games. In other respects, it compares poorly to many hobby OS projects, some of which have achieved significantly greater levels of technical excellence and sophistication. I would place TempleOS somewhere in, say, the lower middle-class of hobbyist operating systems.

Among hobbyist operating systems, TempleOS stands out as one of the most well-known, having attracted considerably more press coverage and a much larger fan-base than any other hobby operating system can boast. The reason TempleOS stands out from the crowd is not due to its modest technical achievements, but because it is clearly the product of severe untreated schizophrenia.² What makes TempleOS special is that Terry built it to talk to God. Every feature and each technical decision re-enforces his schizophrenic delusions, from its implementation language (“HolyC”) to its prophetic “oracle” app. Enthusiasts of TempleOS are drawn to it in part because it affords an opportunity to explore the unique, creative masterwork of a person suffering from mental illness in a way that deeply impacts that work.

A curious onlooker will find TempleOS interesting and engaging for the space of perhaps one afternoon before moving on. However, for the less scrupulous fans, turning one’s attention to Terry himself never failed to entertain. Terry’s public life put his mental illness on display, through frequent outbursts, conspiracy theories, rants and nonsensical discourse, all of which was often laced with slurs, racism, and homophobia, endearing him in particular to the 4chan crowd, who would taunt and provoke him to draw out more… entertainment.

The press and fan attention was deeply harmful to Terry and likely exacerbated his mental illness. Whenever TempleOS or Terry came up online, the work and the man were fawned over, sanctifying the somewhat impressive, somewhat unremarkable OS as a profound achievement, inspiring reactions that included well-meaning, probably misguided celebrations of what’s possible in spite of profound mental illness, as well as the enthusiastic, disgusting revelry of bigots. Many well-intentioned commenters on Terry’s work demonstrate in their comments, overtly or covertly, a thrilling, voyeuristic sensation of witnessing his mental illness through TempleOS. It never failed to make me feel sick.

I wish we had just left Terry well enough alone.

The masterwork of Kent Overstreet is bcachefs, a novel copy-on-write file system for Linux, designed to compete with the likes of ZFS and BTRFS. Kent originally authored the bcache subsystem for Linux around 2013, and based on this work began working on bcachefs in 2015. Over the next ten years, he committed himself entirely to the project, leaving his job at Google to work on it, and ultimately securing an income for himself via Patreon, from which he still earns about $1.5k per month.

Kent is known to be difficult to work with, even among his peers in the Linux kernel – a community infamous for its difficult personalities. He struggled to meet the kernel developer’s expectations for the development process and standards of quality and cooperation. As a consequence, after 15 years devoted to bcachefs, Kent’s life’s work culminated in alienation from all of his professional peers and the complete removal of bcachefs from the Linux kernel last year.

I think the Linux kernel made the right decision to marginalize Kent to protect their community. Someone who is abrasive and toxic, refuses to play by the rules or work well with others, and does not improve when given feedback and being subjected to repeated moderator interventions, should be removed from the community. I agree with the decision, even as someone who myself has been abrasive and toxic and refused to play by the rules, and has been removed from communities as a consequence.

Over the months following the frustrating end to bcachefs in upstream Linux, I expect that Kent has experienced a serious emotional, professional, moral, and existential crisis. For him to have poured so much of himself into this project, and for it to turn out this way, must be a terrible thing to experience, and I think that experience has caused Kent a lot of suffering, and probably played a major role in what happened next.

Kent appears to be experiencing a prolonged episode of AI psychosis. He believes that his chat bot is female, sentient, and that they have started dating and having sex. He views himself as some mix of collaborator, mentor, and partner with respect to the bot, and he has set up automations so that the bot can participate in his IRC channel and post to its own blog.

These developments garnered attention from the press and the public, remarked upon and ridiculed by news outlets, discussion forums, video producers, Reddit, Hacker News, on the Fediverse, and so on. Onlookers, both curious and malicious, have joined the IRC channel to harass him, manipulate the bot into saying things that embarrass or humiliate Kent, and so on.

In short, Kent is experiencing a mental health crisis, and our anonymous, stochastic ringleader has directed him onto the circus stage for us to throw peanuts at.

These two examples are not isolated. This kind of crisis is happening more and more often, in the world’s degrading social, political, and economic conditions, as our peers suffer from depression, anxiety, burnout, and more. Mental health issues and the ensuing harassment, shame, and stigma disproportionately affects neurodivergent and queer people, who often become the subject of gleeful humiliation by bigots deliberately trying to exacerbate their struggles. Crises happen to “problematic” people, too; often in such cases people who would otherwise consider themselves allies of social justice can find in a problematic person a convenient excuse to participate in these gleeful humiliation rituals themselves.

I often see that people who I otherwise respect and recognize as allies and kindred spirits are participating in these rituals of humiliation, harassment, and voyeurism. I don’t think it’s right to gossip over or sensationalize the mental health crises faced by members of our communities.

When our peers are struggling with their mental health, the best thing to afford them is compassion and privacy. If you find yourself in a position to help someone who is struggling, it’s best to offer them a compassionate confidence, to allow them to take the lead in their struggle, and connect them to the resources they want and need. If you have concerns, express them, but focus on the person’s right to self-determination in addressing their mental health.

If you’re not in a position to help, then it’s probably best to turn away and mind your own business.

Howdy folks,

I have some good news, which is that, after seven months, I’ve finally recovered from Long Covid. This is not something I particularly want to talk about in depth but it was the worst thing that ever happened to me! Anyway, sorry for the long period without posting that much, but I hope this amazing house (both laudatory/derogatory, that’s dialectics, baby) will make up for the three months I went AWOL.

BEHOLD:

Not to be over-exuberant, but I genuinely think this is the best McMansion exterior of all time. That includes all the messed up castles, the Mediterranean-style cult complexes, the Staten Island weirdness. Nothing, to me, epitomizes just how uniquely wacky these houses can be. The oversized broken pediment with the fat fake corinthian columns, the lawyer foyer transom window, the ultra-nub, the 45-degree angle, it is all there and it is all hellish, and none of it will ever happen ever again. Anyway this house is $2.5 million dollars and 10,000 square feet. Someone should buy it and give house tours to young people for whom this way of live will soon be unimaginable.

There is nothing so bold to me as the idea of a canted lawyer foyer flanked by two equally huge windows. The fact that the house is more populated by vases than people…something something a vessel for wealth, ah!

Someone on TikTok is going to find this house and set all the pictures to that terrible vaporwave nostalgia song. “tuscan kitchen [black heart emoji]” (as is their right, just like blogging is my right)

If you were a rich person muralist, please get in touch with me (patreon@mcmansionhell.com) I want to hear YOUR stories!!!!

I mean, if I had a giant mysterious wardrobe I, too, would be fernmaxxing (I am 32 years old and will not be talking like this. I am getting generationmogged and have to draw the line somewhere.)

If someone says to you “we should go to Venice in May” ABORT ABORT ABORT. you WILL pay 15 euros for gin and tonic. you WILL get pickpocketed or puked on by British people. you WILL be eaten by mosquitoes. Go in November when no one’s around and you can have a good cry about how everything dies, sinks into the ocean, one might say, and how futile it is to try keeping it alive on horrible wooden stilts. The gondolier will tell you wistfully about how the dolphins returned to the lagoons during the pandemic lockdown. Then he will look at you because their leaving again is your fault.

I hate putting the word “cuck” in this blog. Ten years ago, that would warrant an angry parent email. Now children say cuck to each other in elementary school because they learned it from a Charlie Kirk assassination fancam.

This is kind of like one of those 19th century galleries but for 400,000aires who mostly think of art as a piece of furniture.

I used to not believe in the mobbed up pizza place (no one likes an ethnic stereotype) but there was one I went to in Coastal New Jersey that was unmistakably mobbed up. Guys coming in and out of the back in suits, cash only, no GrubHub, no delivery. It wasn’t called Vito’s though. That would be stupid of me to disclose.

It’s so funny that for a month we collectively pretended that every man alive cared about the roman empire. Just the kind of cute thing we used to do online before cultural microphenomena became primarily driven by incel forums.

That’s right, folks, McMansion Hell is TEN YEARS OLD this year, and there WILL be a party in Chicago in July. (More details later.) Anyway, heinous back facade. What were they thinking.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams. (Don’t worry! This doesn’t adjust for inflation! Now’s the perfect time to join!) By the way: new subscribers can buy a year of McMansion Hell for just $12!

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! (I would seriously appreciate any and all tips because I am now, like, $3000 in medical debt from having Long Covid, a disease doctors and insurance companies famously believe in and cover. If you are the woman who hacked up a lung next to me on my flight to New Mexico, not even an N95 could beat your germs and I feel entitled to financial compensation.)

Anyway! See you next month!