It’s times like these that I remember The Matrix Online.

Back in the day, The Matrix was the shit. Yes, nothing says high quality like fecal matter with a definite article, but the movie lives up to hype. Say what you will about Keanu’s acting, or the apparent plot holes (how does Cypher get into the Matrix, why can’t Agent Smith “hack” more bullets into his gun, etc), the Matrix kicks ass and induces excitement deep in my pyloric valve.

The trouble with success is that it can leave you unprepared for subsequent failure. Four years later, we were watching confused critics struggle with the overlong (and unsatisfying) The Matrix Reloaded. Most of them missed the boat with the first movie, and they were anxious not to seem like out-of-touch old fogeys a second time. The glowing reviews for a mediocre sequel must have struck a chord of “we can do no wrong” in the Wachowskis’ heads, and so they plunged ahead with some very questionable media ventures.

The third, final, and shit awful Matrix movie left a lot plot points unexplained, but that was okay, we were told, because the story would continue with The Matrix Online PC MMO. It probably seemed like genius at the time. You’d play in an interactive world of “red-pilled” humans, with the story of Zion and Machine City and the Merovingian continuing on around you – and you could be an active participant, if you liked. It was going to be the wave of the future,  films and videogames becoming an inseparable braid.

It launched. It flopped. And five years later, it was cancelled. At a time where World of Warcraft had ten million subscribers, TMO’s player base had dwindled to just five hundred active accounts. What went wrong?

1. They got Monolith Productions to create the game. I’ve been playing Monolith games since 1997 (not continuously, there were some bathroom breaks), and I speak with authority when I say they’re the most inconsistent company on earth. Blood is good. Claw is good. Get Medieval is bad. Shogo is bad. Blood II is bad. Gruntz is good. Sanity is bad. No-One Lives Forever is good. Aliens versus Predator 2 is good. No One Lives Forever II is bad. Tron 2.0 is good. Contract JACK is bad. FEAR is good. Condemned is bad. And so on. It’s like someone’s tossing a coin.

2. The Matrix Online, by most accounts, falls into the bad column. I haven’t played it, but people tell me that it’s like a spiritual descendant of the two sequel movies – glossy, superficially well put together, but cold, unfocused, and unengaging. Apparently the game had bugs right until the very end. It’s normal for MMOs to launch with bugs. But TMO still looked like an alpha, right up until someone pulled the plug.

It’s an interesting study in the difference between games and movies. The Matrix Online was a bust, and that marked the last time anyone ever made a videogame based off the Matrix. It seems crazy. The Matrix franchise is tailor made for videogame treatment. Many games now copy the Matrix‘s distinctive visual style by default. But with games, you only get one shot.

Meanwhile, the Wachowski’s are sitting on an ever-growing pile of box office bombs, and yet they’ve received a $175 million budget for their upcoming movie. Hollywood still hasn’t caught up to the fact that The Matrix was a fluke and the Wachowskis will probably never do anything worthwhile ever again.

A sign that you’re a good satirist is that you can satirize something that hasn’t happened yet.

Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal does lots of legwork these days, from gaming to contemporary social movements. The sentiments are so universal and timeless that they can be fitted over almost anything.

But what’s even more striking is when a satirist successfully anticipates a person. Eerie, too, especially when you see someone you know walking around in the pages of a book written a hundred years ago. Some say that Marquis de Sade has written into his books everyone you’ve ever met in your life. Others attribute this feat to Mark Twain. Neither Sade or Twain personally give me that feeling, but someone who does is John Kennedy Toole in his book The Confederacy of Dunces.

This book, written in 1969, contains a character called Ignacius J Reilly. He (as has been noted by others) is almost a perfect pastiche of 21st century blogger Mencius Moldbug. They’re both “reactionaries”, motivated by what they see as the decline of the modern world (though Moldbug thinks we need more conservatism, while Ignacius thinks we need more geometry). They’re both very long winded, with a high opinion of their own intellects. Both appear to be either far behind the times, or far ahead of them. They even share a liking for Boëthius.

The book also contains a female character called Myrna Minkoff, who is a parody of Jewish feminism. I’m not as impressed by this. Toole was a literature teacher at a college in New York, and one assumes the studentry furnished him with a lot of material when creating Minkoff.

CS Lewis’s “Planet” trilogy also comes to mind. There’s a “jerk atheist” figure (MacPhee) who comes across as contemporary. And it’s no secret that Weston was drawn from famed geneticist JBS Haldane, who embodied what Lewis saw as the darkest chapters of the science-driven future (paranthetically, the real JBS Haldane could apparently talk while inhaling air, allowing him to continuously monologue without pause for breath. A shame Lewis didn’t give his fictional Weston that trait, or he would have been the most loathed villain in all of literature, bar none.) Richard Devine could be likened to your favourite sociopathic hedge fund manager.

Obviously, there’s a host of attempted self-made prophecies, where people explicitly model themselves on someone from a book (like John Galt, or Jesus Christ), usually with unsatisfactory results. Sometimes people try to will entire social edifices into existence from novels – such as Palahniuk’s Fight Clubs, and John Norman’s sadomasochism-based Gor lifestyle.

True things often end up as lies in the pages of a book. But if you look closely, it’s not hard to find the reverse – a fictional story that people in real life are turning into the truth.

A argument has broken out on the internet, if you can believe such a thing. Even now, two sides are locked in a grim war of attrition. Accusations of sexual deviancy are their bullets. Insinuations of unchaste mothers are their bayonets. The disagreement is this: does wood make a difference in the tone of an electric guitar?

This has significant implications for the guitar industry, since apparently everyone believes that it does (and tonally “good” woods can be expensive and rare, like topcut Brazilian rosewood). Basswood sounds smooth and fat, ash sounds bright, and so on. This has long been noted in acoustic instruments. But an electric guitar is not an acoustic instrument. Can anyone hear the sound of wood in a vibrating metal string’s disturbance of a magnetic field? Or is it all a huge group delusion?

The “yes” camp is led by Rob Chapman, an affable gear enthusiast known for his product reviews. Everyone likes Chappers. The “no” crowd is led by Scott Groves, who is definitely the “heel” in this debate. Depending on who you ask, he’s either a jackass who makes things far more personal than they have to be, or a guy who wields the truth like a riot baton.

Some people are taking a physics-based approach, comparing transverse waves and that sort of thing. But that’s not really the point. We don’t care if there’s some slight difference when you compare two sounds with an oscilloscope. It has to be a difference that’s perceptible by the human ear. There’s slight waveform differences in a $15 HDMI cable versus a $150 Monster Cable…big fucking deal. NOBODY with human ears can tell these cables apart in a blind A/B test.

Chapman has a video of a swamp ash Chapman ML-1 demo’d against a mahogany Chapman ML-1, and yes, I can seem to hear a difference in tone. By itself, this only means so much. Is Chapman strumming as hard as The Captain? Is he hitting the bass and treble strings equally? We need a machine that can play guitar (wait, is Compressorhead still around?), so we can take the uncertainty introduced by humans out of these tests. If the difference remains, I’d be a tonewood believer in a second.

Groves (“if you still believe in tone wood after this, there’s a short bus ready to drop you off at Morontucky”) and his flunkies have hit back with videos of their own. Their position is that wood plays no part at all on an electric guitar. Your “tone” is a mixture of your amp, your pickups, and your playing style – your guitar can be made of cardboard for all that matters. The last video contains a demo of a fine piece of alder sounding exactly the same as a hunk of cheap fiberboard from a kitchen benchtop. Fascinating, but not conclusive.

Clearly, one side or the other is victim of a massive placebo effect. They wouldn’t be the first. I remember one time I was making some EQ changes to a track, I’d gotten it sounding pretty good…and then I realised that I’d had the EQ bypassed the whole time. The sound differences I was hearing were all in my head.

It reminds me of Prosper-René Blondlot, who “discovered” an exotic sort of radiation called N-Rays. Lots of other scientists backed up Blondlot’s findings, and the French Academy of Sciences granted him ?50,000 for his work.

N-Rays do not exist. One day, Blondlot conducted a successful “demonstration” of his discovery, oblivious to the fact that a scientist had sabotaged the machine that was supposedly producing the N-Rays.