We present an approach that takes multiple videos captured by social cameras—cameras that are carried or worn by members of the group involved in an activity—and produces a coherent „cut“ video of the activity. Footage from social cameras contains an intimate, personalized view that reflects the part of an event that was of importance to the camera operator. We leverage the insight that social cameras share the focus of attention of the people carrying (or wearing) them. We use this insight to determine where the important „content“ in a scene is taking place, and use it in conjunction with cinematographic guidelines to select which cameras to cut to and to determine the timing of those cuts. A trellis graph formulation is used to optimize an objective function that maximizes coverage of the important content in the scene, while respecting cinematographic guidelines such as the 180-degree rule and avoiding jump cuts. We demonstrate cuts of the videos in various styles and lengths for a number of scenarios, including sports games, street performance, family activities, and social get-togethers. We evaluate our results through an in-depth analysis of the cuts in the resulting videos and through comparison with videos produced by a professional editor and existing commercial solutions.
Logan and how it relates to established genre structures while also offering responses to „too well-known“ genre patterns.
[..] [G]ames are the aesthetic form of everyday objects. Of ordinary life. Take a ball and a field: you get soccer. Take property-based wealth and the Depression: you get Monopoly. Take patterns of four contiguous squares and gravity: you get Tetris. Take ray tracing and reverse it to track projectiles: you get Doom. Games show players the unseen uses of ordinary materials.
[…] The true accomplishment of What Remains of Edith Finch is that it invites players to abandon the dream of interactive storytelling at last. […] To dream of the Holodeck is just to dream a complicated dream of the novel. If there is a future of games, let alone a future in which they discover their potential as a defining medium of an era, it will be one in which games abandon the dream of becoming narrative media and pursue the one they are already so good at: taking the tidy, ordinary world apart and putting it back together again in surprising, ghastly new ways.
One of the most immersive and rarefied experiences in the history of cinema, Andrei Tarkovsky’s STALKER embarks on a metaphysical journey through an enigmatic post-apocalyptic landscape. A hired guide – the „Stalker“ of the title – leads a writer and a scientist into the heart of the Zone, the restricted site of a long-ago disaster, where the three men eventually zero in on the Room, a place rumored to fulfill one’s most deeply held desires. Adapting a science-fiction novel by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, and making what would be his final Soviet feature, Tarkovsky created a challenging and visually stunning work, his painstaking attention to material detail and sense of organic atmosphere further enriched by this vivid new restoration. At once a religious allegory, a reflection of contemporary political anxieties, and a meditation on film itself-among many other interpretations – Stalker envelops the viewer by opening up a multitude of possible meanings. Restored by Mosfilm from a 2k scan of the original negative.
Tommy Westphall was an austistic child on the TV series St Elsewhere who, it was revealed in the closing moments of the final episode of that series, had dreamt the entire run of the show. […] St Elsewhere has direct connections to twelve other television series – many of them direct crossovers of character to and from the series. Others make mention of specific parts of the St Elsewhere fictional universe, placing them within the same fictional sphere.
Video game archaeology perhaps is the first example of a new New Archaeology, one that is post-material and post-human, one that not only intersects past and present, but that also uses the screen as the sole method of accessing new archaeological spaces. These spaces are made by people (or by machine) for other people to use, and are invested with creativity and examples of material culture. They are kinetic and also kinesthetic. They contain their own space-time. Each game is its own discrete entity, its own site. At the same time, each game exists in multiple, identical copies, circumventing the problem of the “unrepeatable experiment” of total excavation. They pose both classic and new questions to the archaeologist who operates in both the real and the virtual simultaneously using very real archaeological craft.
Dubbed the Geena Davis Inclusion Quotient (GD-IQ), the tool not only can identify a character’s gender, but it knew to a fraction of a second how long each actor spoke, and were on-screen.
The graphics were simple and borderline abstract, but they were also an experience unlike anything most households had ever seen. The box art was meant to coalesce that excitement into something tangible. A static screenshot from the game couldn’t possibly relate how dynamic the experience was to a neophyte audience. The impressionistic nature of the 2600’s graphics also allowed for ample interpretation of what that experience would resemble.
A early mock-up of the Maniac Mansion UI, which would influence many later Lucasfilm adventure games.
A map of the mansion, interestingly the limited disk space of 320k played a big role in the mansion size and layout.
Make maps that look like something you’d find at the back of cheap paperback fantasy novels.