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Markus Persson, aka Notch, is an internet hero. He created the bafflingly popular game Minecraft, in which people build astonishing things out of an infinite supply of cubes. In June of 2012, he posted a pair of surprising Tweets: surprising because I saw them the same day we, in class, brought back the question: what if the ‘windows’ of our computer screens are actually becoming mirrors?

Personal biases and eager-to-please algorithms mean that more than ever, our net activity is exposing us to things that we already know and like. But even more than that, increasingly, we define ourselves by the activities on our screens. What does it mean to be a “gamer”? Why does Persson– an individual whose fame and fortune have been made by offering the internet’s denizens an infinite playground of creativity and ingenuity– find himself doubting the very world in which he has found so much success? Wark would say that we are all gamers, playing in our own reality gamespace. However, that doesn’t really address the question of the people who take on gaming as an identity. Is gaming simply, as Wark and others seem to believe, a way of anesthetizing ourselves from the truth of the world?

Much of this course has focused on the “Delightful Creepiness” of the Internet and new media. However, I find that conclusion unsatisfying. Persson’s second Tweet is tongue-in-cheek, but I believe it can be interpreted as salient. It is in the quiet, dark moments of our life that we doubt ourselves. And in the words of Shakespeare, “Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.” The Internet is a new frontier, as infinite as the endlessly self-generating map of a Minecraft server; like the universe itself, it expands as soon as you reach the border. To treat the Internet with trepidation and paranoia is to limit oneself from exploring its possibilities.