This story follows a gambler’s chain of thoughts through a game which will sound like a mix of chess and poker. There is some inspiration drawn from Iain Banks, which is despite my criticism of his works. There is some overlap in what he has written and what I link to think about. My complaint of his work would be the execution rather than a complaint of his underlying ideas.

For those that have read my collection of sci-fi short stories may also be pleased to know that this one is set in the same Universe.

Convexity

The Light was quiet this evening, despite the fact that it was hosting the big game. Space junkers still punted their wares; guards still patrolled; drinkers still drank; and those of us who gambled vast fortunes still lost. No one cared about the big game. No one, except the gamblers and even we gamblers were a rare species on the Light these days. Where was the crowd? Tonight saw half of the galaxy’s top players, all of whom staked big on great and terrible hands alike, congregate at Armon’s bar for what ought to be the most exciting game in years.

Despite losing three crates of steel no one said “oooh” or “ahhh”. Popularity had dwindled to the point where “King” Darsam lost his planet, and three billion inhabitants in a single hand, it had only been witnessed by the players and the four drunks who propped up the bar. Who knows if the drunks were paying attention or just grunting at random intervals?

A view-screen behind the bar showed the other big game of the evening. Perhaps the drunks were watching Magball? But what was the appeal in watching 40 adults running around a maze throwing a metallic ball at each other? Sure there was skill involved but the outcomes were too predictable – the same teams always won the league.

Kerval could count five teams that had won the league in the last twenty series. The amateur leagues were more exciting, greater randomness, but their appeal was far more niche and only a few people talked about them. Joining an amatuer Magball appreciation club was beyond Kerval’s interest. He admired them, the amateurs, they played with heart and local rivalries were always fierce. Another problem with the big leagues was the player churn — Blitzer Zal had played for ten teams in the last eight series. Where was the loyalty, the dedication and passion to and for one team and one set of fans?

Three hammers, two daggers and five coin cards. Shit. Kerval had let his mind wander again. His brow unconsciously furrowed, but he caught himself. Give no signals. He wanted to scratch the itch at the end of his nose but feared this would signal that his hands were empty. This was only the beginning and already it felt like a rout.

He looked at his cards again and hoped they had changed. A card of four coins, the best he held, but the other two coin cards weren’t charged. They were blank; no coins. He guessed that a single card of four wouldn’t be enough to overturn the five separate coin cards of his nearest opponent. The first player was strong; Kerval was second in line to play but he was empty. Four sets of eyes to his left waited for him to make his move. If he could play the three plus the two empty coins then he might be able to bluff a defence.

The first player had a good hand and knew it. This gentleman had played his cards face up and was notably smug about it. Kerval cringed. No signals. Unfurrow that brow. Keep those lips straight. It was a mantra for Kerval. The face-up placement of cards was bold but not wholly arrogant. He saw it as a confident move with much merit. Such moves often ward off bluff attacks that can bleed a player before a large assault later in the game. Kerval had been, and had often partaken in, double teaming a number of opponents. Everyone at this level knew it would happen several times in a series.

There was a chance that if Kerval placed his hand face down he could pretend to have untold power. It wasn’t common for players to place very powerful cards face down in order to lure opponents into a trap. It can work wonders: an opponent’s ten card power play can be demolished in a single hand. Kerval smiled, almost laughing. What was he going to do with a backwards planet with a population of three billion primitives? Darsam had practically handed him the keys to the palace. Although Kerval knew that he might be forced to wager all of that in this game. He’d lose the planet but stay in the game. You win some, you lose some.

[More to come! Watch this space]

It is very timely that Wired published an article today which decries the rise of ebooks. Ok, so there is definitely a downside to digital media: piracy is an issue and it does seem like libraries are not treated fairly. That said, the rise of digital media is not going to bring more problems than solutions that it provides. The cat is out of the bag. The horse has bolted from the stable. Digital media artists need to confront and prosper from this new reality rather than become a victim to it.

How does a creative artist prosper from this new digital reality? By understanding how the digital age works,  how the upcoming generation behaves, and most importantly: convexity. When I say new I mean this relative to the old forms of publishing in hard formats. Myspace has been around for years and provided bands to promote their music globally. In theory, a band can record a piece of music and then send it to millions of people around the world in the same day. That is just simply impossible with the old forms of publishing, but it is reality for digital media.

This isn’t a secret, at all. Many content creators have embraced digital content. It has decrease many barriers to entry and provided a bridge between (say) writers and readers than have otherwise not existed. However, with such low barriers to entry there is a downside in the form of piracy. The downside is that your content is copied many times without your consent and without payment or credit. The upside, yes there is an upside, is that your content has possibly been shared with millions. Popularity (fame) is never a guarantee of vast wealth. This is reality, but there is a way to benefit from it rather than become a victim to it.

Accept that piracy can happen, although in the early stages of your career it might not, but understand that this is in credit  to your popularity rather than a discredit to your popularity. Folks don’t pirate Breaking Bad or the great works of GRR Martin because they hate it, but precisely the opposite. Does this represent lost revenue (sales) ? Sure, it might be lost revenue but it also allows for a opens up a far greater market. Does this mean that the artist may not be able to live off their creation? Sure, that’s also true but that has always been true, even before the internet began it was never a guaranteed certainty than an artist could ever live off the royalties of their own work. This line of argument is a red herring (imHo).

Let’s go back to my statement about MySpace: an musician can upload a piece of music and share it with millionns (heck, billions!) in the same day. To re-iterate a separate previous statement: this was impossible in the old days of non-digital publishing. This makes life hard for the old forms of copyright to still be useful or even meaningful.

In the days of underground music, bands would copy of their own material (tape to tape) and then given it away for free or exchange for things like alcohol. The bands wished to share their music, their creations, their passions, rather than try make money from it. With the advent of the internet underground music no longer exists. A downside to this is that everyone gets “published”, even the bad stuff. The upside is that everyone has the opportunity to get published.

For some this is the opportunity they need to get their material out to a wider any audience. The internet is in many ways an equaliser for content creators, they now have the possibility to publish their work but the internet has also reinforced some previous “problems”: people still stick with trusted brands. People buy from brands that consistently provide the content they desire.

A demonstration: JK Rowling published a book under a different name, but the sales were rather luke warm. The apple cart is toppled, everyone finds out that the book was written by JK and sales go through the roof. What changed? The content was exactly the same, so there was no change in quality, or design, but the brand changed. The brand that is JK Rowling was suddenly attached to the work and sales changed overnight. This, ladies and gentleman, is convexity.

Sales growth exploded in a completely unpredicted and non-linear way. These are the hall marks convexity. It is possible to identify sources of convexity but it is generally impossible to predict the outcome. Content creators have to face this reality and expose themselves in a way to capture the success from convex situations rather than become a victim to it.

With a nod to Nassim Taleb, author of Fooled by Randomness, the Black Swan, and Antifragile, we can identify possible professions and situations where convexity exists. A baker makes bread but they have to make every single that they sell. One sale represents one unit of work. This process doesn’t scale so well. Digital content on the other hand is created once, perhaps it takes a year to write the new best-seller, but it can be copied and sold millions of times in a day. One sale does not represent one unit of work.

The total number of sales from your latest ebook is hard to predict, success is never guaranteed, even in the digital world, but you can at least be sure that you are in a favourable regime for explosive growth.