Moliyo MMORPGs: Blood Sports?

There is apparently a worrying exchange being suggested in China this week: players of the MMORPG ‘Cabal’, owned by Moliyo, are being asked to donate half a litre of blood in exchange for accounts. True to the name ‘cabal’, meaning a group of secret plotters, approximately 120,000 gamers were recently caught hacking the game in an attempt to enhance their status and were subsequently blocked. Through a blood donation, this block would be undone and they could continue their quest. New players could also open accounts in this fashion. The company has justified this move in saying that it is seeking to illustrate the importance of civil behaviour, of public responsibility and the significance of social welfare.

Photo attribution: 'I Wear Pink With Pride', CC BY-NC 2.0 by Cayusa

Research (Frey & Jegen, 2000) surrounding the exchange of goods for the undertaking of philanthropic acts, such as blood donation, suggests that there is a ‘crowding out’ effect which occurs: counter-intuitively, motivation decreases for acts of public responsibility when something is offered in return, as though the bargain is tarnished by the suggestion of profit. Since 2002, the Red Cross in China has sought to adhere to a Voluntary Blood Donation Law, with branches in Tianjin, Jiangsu, Fujian, Gangxi, and Shandong giving awards, rather than cash, to outstanding individuals and units in recognition of their donations. The quest for blood has been an ongoing battle, however, given that there have been a series of scandals in relation to the contracting of AIDS through blood donation to Chinese hospitals. This has been attributed to inappropriate medical staff training leading to poor collection techniques. According to the US Embassy site:

‘Truly voluntary blood donation is unknown in China. Even where blood donation is ostensibly voluntary, in practice blood donation is expected by the work unit and often rewarded with two or three weeks of paid leave. Some people who earn money by giving blood are in poor health. These blood donors sometimes include drug addicts and prostitutes who may have STDs or other blood-borne diseases. Contaminated blood products, diseases transmitted to blood donors by dirty needles and other poor medical practices have spread the HIV virus and other illnesses.’

The Chinese Red Cross must therefore respond urgently to the suggestion that gamers are being induced to give blood. This follows in a tradition which speaks of coercion and unethical practice through incentivising social responsibilities. The only way to guarantee a steady supply of blood is to make the process safe, and to ensure that the benefits are clearly communicated independent of fiscal reward.

This Film Is Not Yet Rated

In his 2006 documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated, director Kirby Dick (Twist of Faith, 2004; Derrida, 2002) rails against the all-encompassing hold of the Motion Picture Association of America, the MPAA. Despite the conventional format of this film, the script is based on a decidedly brazen move: the documentary itself has to be submitted to the film review panel which Dick seeks to expose for its ‘shadowy practices.’

A Brief History of Censorship

As an organisation founded in 1922 after a US Supreme Court ruling in 1915 stating that motion pictures were not covered under the First Amendment (a decision subsequently reversed in 1952), the MPAA operated according to production code (the ‘Hays Code’) guidelines which stipulated that:

General Principles
1. No picture shall be produced that will lower the moral standards of those who see it. Hence the sympathy of the audience should never be thrown to the side of crime, wrongdoing, evil or sin.
2. Correct standards of life, subject only to the requirements of drama and entertainment, shall be presented.
3. Law, natural or human, shall not be ridiculed, nor shall sympathy be created for its violation.

The MPAA Production Code Administration required all filmmakers to obtain a certificate of approval before the distribution of their work. In 1966, Jack Valenti became head of the MPAA, and set about introducing a ratings system upon the violation of the existing code by MGM and Warner Bros with their respective films Blowup and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Operating under a schema of G, M, R, and X, there have been certain shifts of classification over intervening years, culminating in the creation of the NC-17 label in 1990.


It is the effect of being rated ‘NC-17’ that is the focus of this documentary: far from transparent or accountable, MPAA wields this status as a political tool to disable the distribution of content it deems to be inappropriate for American youth. How the MPAA Classification and Rating Administration (CARA) goes about their decision-making process, likened to censorship, is closed to scrutiny – until Kirby Dick hires private investigators to get to the identity of those who rate films. In true Hollywood style, Dick gleans information from trash cans, hidden cameras, and reconnaissance trips in order to uncover the demographic who makes these decisions.

The stakes are undoubtedly high: receiving an NC-17 rating, where children under the age of 17 are not admitted to a screening, rather than ‘R - Restricted’ where patrons 17 and under must be accompanied by an adult or guardian, means that a movie cannot be openly advertised. Hollywood studios refuse to promote these films, most cinemas won’t play NC-17s, and large distributors Wal-Mart and Blockbuster refuse to stock DVDs with this classification. Clearly, this may mean the difference between box office success and failure. Stigma would also attach to the suggestion of content deemed unseemly by the parents of America… whoever they may be. In whose name? is a question which resonates in the denial of an official response, given the diversity of ‘youth’ tastes and interests. This is a clear insight into the shaping of the monolithic American mainstream.

Actor Maria Bello, most recently of The Cooler, comments on the inconsistency of the rating when you look to comparable content of more mainstream Hollywood films (think American Pie, for one!). What exactly is gratuitous? All evidence suggests that there is an assault on the depiction of female pleasure, and anything deemed to be ‘queer’. To clarify: no-one is arguing against the utility of guidelines for viewing decisions; rather, they are questioning the lack of consistency and transparency of their application, as well as a seeming vendetta against independent thought. Suggestions that professional child psychologists and independent media experts sit on the panel were rapidly quashed:

MPAA maintains that the identity of ratings board members must not be disclosed because of their supposed sensitivity to pressure from lobby groups; however, it is clear that close bonds are formed between Hollywood and the committee, given the detailed feedback provided to amend to an R, versus ‘it’s the film’s overall feeling’ and ‘we stopped making notes’ for the independents. How one addresses such generalities before a closed appeals tribunal is also up for consideration. Dick reveals, however, that the board is constituted by members of the major studios, and in appeasing religious-minded lobby groups, two members of the clergy. In addition, Jack Valenti unashamedly courted statesmen and US Senators for support of his ‘impartial’ decision-making body.

Opinion on the independence and fairness of the system is sought from prominent American filmmakers who have endured the NC-17 branding: John Waters, Kevin Smith, Mary Harron, Matt Stone, Kimberly Peirce, Darren Aronofsky, and Atom Egoyan. This process is also witnessed in meta-text, as Dick is subjected to the scrutiny of MPAA for the present film. Stanford law professor and rights guru Lawrence Lessig weighs into the debate on the front of copyright and piracy and the encroachment on the public sphere and free thought. In a beautifully appropriate moment of irony, apparently the MPAA pirated copies of the film to distribute to their executives. Let us hope for a wide release for the film in Australian cinemas.

Exteriors: Suburbia's Subtle Satirist

Howard Arkley Retrospective
Queensland Gallery of Modern Art

Nick Cave (c) Howard Arkley 1999, Commissioned with funds provided by L Gordon Darling AC CMG. Collection: National Portrait Gallery, Canberra

The airbrushed lines of Australian artist Howard Arkley (1951-1999) reveal an urban landscape in which multiple layers converge to portray a darker side to the duplex and its dainty décor. Arkley does not shatter the suburban surrounds in the manner of David Lynch (no ears in the grass Blue Velvet style), but there is something decidedly unhomely in the homely. In a repetition of roofs and kempt corners familiar from real estate catalogues, Arkley employs a palette that is slightly overemphatic, skewed, to emphasise a different perspective on the domestic. Despite their instant pop appeal, his works reward the ‘slow look’, an examination of colour and form, pattern and patina which surrounds us on a daily basis and may otherwise be overlooked.

The National Gallery of Victoria’s comprehensive retrospective of Arkley’s work opened at the Ian Potter Centre in Melbourne’s Federation Square in November 2006, and has now reached Brisbane’s Gallery of Modern Art (GoMA) (6th July – 16th September 2007). The exhibition coincides with the launch of John Gregory’s monograph Carnival in Suburbia: The Art of Howard Arkley. Senior Lecturer at the Faculty of Art and Design, Monash University, Dr Gregory presumably has great insight into this subject, in being Howard’s brother-in-law.

The curation of the exhibition, undertaken by Jason Smith, chronicles the early fascination of Arkley with the tools of his trade, showing exercises which work through the different effects to be achieved with the airbrush. We progress past the intricate iron work of front doors, ruminating on Guimard’s Parisian Métropolitain gates, to extensions into the ‘real’ in 3-dimensional seating which plays with perspective, form, and function in inimitable style – what is real, what is model? how do utilitarianism and art coincide? The outside walls of the exhibition explore Arkley’s exteriors (his ‘bloody house paintings,’ said in a moment of exasperation that this would be his legacy), and his fascination with masks. The inside walls perhaps mirror his concerns more closely: the interiors show different settings on the familiar, along side his famous, and thought to be autobiographical work on heroin use, an addiction which brought about his untimely death in 1999, months after world-wide recognition at the Venice Biennale, La Biennale di Venezia.

The centrepiece of the exhibition could be said to be the collaborative piece ‘Blue Chip Instant Decorator’ (1990/1991), completed with Juan Davila for an exhibition in Tolarno Galleries, South Yarra. Whereas Davila’s politics are brutally obvious, Arkley’s are embedded, folded in the patterning and vanishing behind the veneers. Yet, there is a clear statement about commodification of art here and the evacuation of all socio-cultural meaning at the hands of art dealers.

We circle in recombinations and reorderings across a range of visual stimuli in this exhibition, where types are elaborated upon and memes mesmerise. Arkley offers a panorama of immersive entertainment and enlightenment as settings unsettle. These are the landscapes of the twentieth century, where we reflect upon identity and belonging. Arkley positions us to re-evaluate the great Australian dream, served over tea and scones. The back corner is dedicated to a powerful industrial landscape which will no doubt find particular resonance with those who think globally. What is it to be local? As politicians wend their way through marginal electorates, now is certainly the time to recast our gaze.