While we often see the evolution of artists working in old media, ever-shifting technical terrain tends to obscure videogame makers’ aesthetic trajectories. In Thatgamecompany’s pathbreaking and gorgeous games for the Playstation 3, we get the rare chance to watch these artists at work against a fixed technological backdrop.

Apple promised a world in which technology would be humane, and used to ameliorate—rather than undermine—the human condition. For much of the last decade, Apple was not just selling gadgets; it was also selling technologically mediated therapy—and America, a nation that likes to cure its ills with redemptive shopping, could not resist the temptation.

Do I know what I did a year ago? Almost. A story, buttressed by bits and bytes of my day, may have to suffice. This isn’t a comfortable way of accessing my past; digital data is neither literary nor clear. It doesn’t gently lounge with nostalgia and tea-dipped madeleines; instead, it’s organized in search engines, records, and bullet points. And yet, I remain. Here to write. My sterile, my fragmentary, my memory.

Every soldier-return video follows the same narrative. Each video starts with the photographer setting up the shot by focusing on the unsuspecting civilian while the soldier remains hidden. The best videos drag this anticipation out, waiting until the halfway point or later before the greeting takes place. And then we get the goods: The child or sibling or spouse or friend (or dog—this is the internet after all) suddenly sees the returned serviceman and the scene goes from utter banality to hysterical jubilation.

But a funny thing has happened since the rise of professionalism. The tenets it embraced—that some people are more qualified than others, that training and apprenticeship have value, that not everyone can or should (or needs to) gain admission into the club—have become unfashionable. And that is because haterade is not exclusive to the media world.

Android’s Roboto: Frankenfont or necessity?

Some of the bloodymindedness of Helvetica is gone, too. The G in Helvetica that reminds me of Peter Griffin’s face from The Family Guy is no Kirk Douglas in Roboto, where it has a pert little chin instead of that giant block. The Q’s violent diagonal slash in Helvetica is just little stroke akimbo in Roboto.

In a way, reviewing Words With Friends, the now-ubiquitous Scrabble-esque smartphone app, seems pointless—you already know what it is, and if you don’t you should by now, and a review isn’t going to change how you feel about it or don’t. I guess what I’m really trying to say is Words With Friends is Scrabble, and Scrabble is Words With Friends. Except it’s not.

I’ve written elsewhere that today’s parents approach baby naming a lot like product branding. Whereas in the past, names were typically chosen with an eye toward personal significance (a baby was named after a grandparent, say), today’s parents increasingly focus on the public image projected by the name. Now, as companies introduce technologies that function like people—Siri being the most extreme example to date—they suddenly find themselves with the same kinds of naming challenges as today’s parents-to-be.

Call of Duty flourishes by restricting your options. The limited number of choices that you have in each in-game situation—e.g. shoot the terrorist in the face, or shoot him in the groin—underscores the broader goal of decisive action and forward momentum. Call of Duty is not about fussy negotiations, the sharing of feelings, or the deliberate weighing of multiple points of view.

This is the biggest step back for email since I signed up for Gmail in 2004.