How Canada paved the way for ponies, mutants, and pocket monsters to become educators

By Angela Espinoza, Arts Editor

Television is no longer as doomed as it may have seemed to have been. In an age where all forms of media can easily be consumed for free, there are still people who pay monthly in order to see their favourite shows upon airing. While this is true for enormously popular series’ such as Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad, and even Two and a Half Men, you’ll find most of today’s 18-49-year-old viewer demographic are also spending this money to watch cartoons. Not Family Guy, The Simpsons, or South Park—I’m referring to children’s cartoons like Adventure Time, Regular Show, and, even My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

In the past three years, children’s programming has changed drastically. Many cartoons share a commonality in being strangely blunt and surprisingly honest, with a number of quirky ‘90s shows, most from Cartoon Network, to thank for trailblazing. However, Canada never got Cartoon Network; instead, we had YTV and Teletoon to provide us with all the big cartoons at the time. In particular, Teletoon has come into its own for developing original cartoons, and although the quality varies between products, these shows remain popular amongst children all over North America. One of Teletoon’s first original cartoons that paved the way was Cybersix, a 13-episode series (based on an Argentinean comic book) about a female mutant crime fighter who desperately struggled with the need to feel human.

Vancouver recently had its second annual Fan Expo convention, and it was there that I got to speak with the voice of Cybersix herself, Cathy Weseluck—who now voices Spike the Dragon in My Little Pony. The Toronto-born Weseluck got her start in CBC Radio before moving to Vancouver and discovering voice acting—something people may not know is one of the city’s biggest tourist draws. While speaking with Weseluck, she shared some of her thoughts on children’s programming as it stands today in regards to how she’s been involved with it.

“I’m thrilled to see that children’s programming has increased since the earlier days,” Weseluck starts, “and to see that My Little Pony , for example, is a show that’s come a long way… to see that it’s morphed into an even more beautiful show than it was is really exciting and fulfilling. And for it to still contain the morals and values and reach out to a broader demographic now… I’m thrilled that it’s expanded.

“I think that some of [today’s] children’s programming is actually touching the lives of people in general, because I think in our society we’re missing some of that day-to-day. Maybe that’s why My Little Pony has had its success build. I look forward to seeing more of that kind of show, where there’s less violence again and more friendship and more morals… I think we can all value that.”

On that note, I pointed out that one of Cybersix’s most intriguing points was the action that took place in the show. The character of Cybersix wasn’t your typical arrest-the-bad-guys crime fighter; most of her enemies died—sometimes gruesomely, oftentimes in explosions—and their deaths unfortunately had a point. Cybersix, being a mutant, had to consume chemicals her fellow mutant enemies were made of in order to live (it was pretty bad ass).

“Cybersix was violent in the sense of, you know, her having to get her sustenance to survive,” Weseluck began, “but honestly… I don’t think of Cybersix actually as a violent show. I think of Cybersix as a really moral show in that she strived to have those morals and values that a human being could have, but as a cyber [mutant], she struggled constantly with duality. That show to me, I wouldn’t think of as being so violent as I did being dramatic, and being a show that really reflects our own human conflicts, and that’s what [Cybersix] was all about. She was really in conflict a lot of the time with herself; her identity, her love, and her future.”

Although this might not have been an intentional point of Cybersix, there was another aspect of the show that taught myself, as a child, much about acceptance in broader terms. One of the most unique aspects of Cybersix and its lead character was that while her heels, lipstick, and tight leather outfit made it clear she was a woman by night. By day, she dressed as a man. There were many silly moments in the show, but none ever addressed or made a joke of her male persona (something I found made her even more bad ass). These are all points that, at the time, I do not think could have been handled in animation outside of Canada. I imagine in any other country, the point of Cybersix would focus more so on her being a woman, and not as a person struggling with her own humanity.

In an odd turn of events, more American cartoons have discovered the art of handling subjects subtly, or at least with more respect. To compare briefly to Adventure Time, much of the show, while still full of adventure (and fighting… and occasionally even blood and death), focuses heavily on relationships of all kinds, and does so by oftentimes being brutally honest. As cheesy as it sounds, honesty and friendship are concepts children quickly lose sight of once surrounded by peers, and one thing that has made me uncomfortable since childhood is how easily kids forget any sort of humility as a result.

While at Fan Expo Vancouver, I also got to speak with American voice actress Veronica Taylor, best known for playing the role of Ash Ketchum in most English adaptations of Pokémon. While Pokémon is not the most moral-heavy of shows, the series was a huge part of many of our childhoods, and Taylor makes a point that, if nothing else, the show did teach children a lot about friendship and believing in themselves. With her young daughter by her side the entire weekend, Taylor elaborated on her feelings towards children’s programming then and now.

“I love the energy of Ash,” Taylor starts, “how positive he is, he doesn’t give up, he works well with others—you know, all of that stuff. Not that I think kids need to be hit over the head with morals or that every show has to have a meaning, but I do think we have a responsibility… to be able to have good storytelling. When you have good stories that you can kind of connect with… we all retain something from that. There’s so many things that keep everyone disconnected, that already we see shorter attention spans as kids get older… so part of it I think is we have a responsibility to have some kind of quality programming.

“I really like working with and for children; one of the great things about playing Ash is that I think he is that inner 10-year-old that we all had, and it’s at that moment in our development where anything is possible. That’s where I like to concentrate, to be able to, as kids get older, really work on not closing [themselves] off as kids get into high school and everyone becomes more self-conscious. We live in a time where there’s so much available to us… but at the same time, what are we doing with that?”

There’s something to be said when children’s programming becomes so smart and funny and, well, good that even our more cynical generation of adults can jump on board and relate to it. Whether it’s the “magic” of friendship in Pokémon and My Little Pony, or the humanity in Cybersix and Adventure Time, children’s cartoons have come a long way in developing entertaining stories. They’re not all perfect, and some aren’t even honest when it comes to simply selling toys, but there is a sincerity taking over children’s shows today that barely existed in the best of ‘90s cartoons, and it’s a sincerity that will continue to grow and develop with its spectrum of young and old viewers in the years to come.

Image from City of Vancouver archives.

By Liam Britten, Contributor

George Norris was not a bitter man.

But when the sculptor’s greatest work, a graceful, 13.4-metre stainless steel abstract, was removed from its place outside Pacific Centre and destroyed by city workers, it affected him deeply.

Norris, who died last month at the age of 84, is remembered for sculptures like The Crab outside the H.R. MacMillan Space Centre, the concrete frieze on Postal Station D on Pine Street, and The Swimmer at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre.

But son Alexander Norris, a Montreal city councillor, remembers the motivation behind his father’s art: enriching public spaces at a time when cold functionality was the order of the day.

“I think it was one of his most beautiful pieces,” Alexander said of the Pacific Centre sculpture. “It saddens me to this day that it was taken away and destroyed. But it did, while it was there, provide something of beauty for passersby to appreciate in an otherwise gloomy and oppressive intersection.”

Norris’ vision ran contrary to the minimalist values of his 1970s contemporaries. He felt these values were alienating and inhumane, and cities that used it as their design philosophy were building for cars, not a public made of human beings.

Pacific Centre embodied everything that was wrong about these values. 

The LA vision of Vancouver

Pacific Centre was the result of a redesign of the corner of Granville and Georgia, and it took away everything Norris loved about a once vibrant intersection: theatres, neon lights, shops all within easy access for pedestrians.

Now, the shops were underground. The open spaces were shaded by a pair of massive, dark, glass-and-steel towers and the massive white wall of Eaton’s replaced the theatre and shops on the west side of Granville Street.

“Entrapment and gloom” were what people felt as they walked by, Norris wrote. Ignored were pedestrian flow, light, airflow, and even a sense of freedom and movement that vibrant public spaces demand.

“My father had enormous frustration with [Cesar Pelli], the architect involved in that project,” Alexander recalled. “I think it’s interesting because there’s a new appreciation that such architecture is highly inappropriate for urban settings. When we think about the streetscapes, I think time has vindicated my dad and his vision more than Cesar Pelli’s.”

After meeting with Pelli in Los Angeles, Norris was invited to propose a sculpture concept for the intersection.

An intersection for the people

Norris wanted to make the intersection inviting to human beings once more with this sculpture. His proposals called for a sculpture, a fountain, canopies, planter boxes, seating—things that would encourage passersby to stay a moment—but only the sculpture and fountain were approved.

The abstract sculpture, unnamed, as was Norris’ style, stood 13.4-metres tall and was made of stainless steel. It evoked a dancer’s physique, graceful and lithe. It reflected West Coast aboriginal art and natural patterns of growth.

Norris wrote in a letter that the sculpture was full of “actual and implied tension”: actual tension in the bronze struts emanating from a central hub, and implied tension between the public and private nature of the space that contained it.

George Rammell, a sculpture instructor at Capilano University, called the work “unmistakably the greatest sculpture of its time.” He helped fabricate the piece and said it was the culmination of Norris’ lifetime of expertise brought to bear on a singular work.

“That piece was designed for that site, a glass canyon, very windy because of the different heights of the towers,” he said. “The wind catches and swirls around in there. So Norris was responding to the wind currents, the vertical nature of the glass towers around it.”

From 1974 to 1988 it stood in the spot it was painstakingly designed for. Then it was taken down by Pacific Centre owners Cadillac Fairview so they could fit another enclosed structure in its space.

$50,000 of scrap

To Rammell, it was obvious the managers at Cadillac Fairview had no idea that they destroyed the context of the statue when they gifted it to the city of Surrey.

“The problem I have is bankers or whoever, think the sculpture doesn’t belong here anymore, so send it over there and it’ll be fine over there, which is bullshit,” he said. “You put that in a mall in Surrey and it’s silly. The whole idea was so bizarre. They lost a piece of national treasure status by moving it out of there.”

For eight years, the sculpture was in limbo in the hands of the city of Surrey.

Then, in 1996, it was reported that the sculpture had been destroyed. It was scrapped and sold for $50,000 to a metal dealer.

The city said it was mistaken city workers who destroyed it. The workers’ union blamed a mid-level manager. Norris considered it “unproductive” to assign blame, he wrote in response to a letter of apology from Surrey’s then-mayor, Bob Bose.

He spoke bitterly to newspapers, though, telling the Vancouver Sun, “Vancouver chews us up and spits us out.”

He lamented the year of “difficult and frustrating labour” spent in scaffoldings of foundries in False Creek and Coquitlam crafting a sculpture he likened to one of his children.

New home, same ideals

George Norris never again worked on public art in Vancouver. He was tired of the proposal process, the revisions, the rejections.

“Certainly that whole experience maybe underlined his disillusionment with the whole competition process and doing public art, but I wouldn’t try to claim that because this happened he stopped doing art or it discouraged him,” Alexander said of his father.

He moved to Shawnigan Lake, on Vancouver Island, and he continued his work to enrich public spaces.

He collaborated with the architect of Shawnigan Lake’s community centre in the 1990s and invited the townspeople to contribute decorative artwork for the building.

Together, they crafted a public space in the truest sense of the word—one that still stands to this day.

People for Kerrisdale, Kerrisdale for the people

Alexander Norris remembers when George and his wife, Phyllis, saw a desolate street north of 41st Ave. in Kerrisdale during the 1960s.

The City of Vancouver never planned to beautify that street, but it was beautified nonetheless.

The Norisses and their neighbours blocked off the intersection, near the commercial heart of Kerrisdale, and worked to make it a more inviting public space.

“They got planters and painted old furniture and they re-claimed, in a way, the street for the people,” Alexander said.

Like Pacific Centre, the re-decorated street off 41st Ave. no longer bears the mark of George Norris.

But its creation in the first place showed George Norris’ commitment to enriched public spaces—both through his art and his actions.

Illustration by Ed Appleby.

Three boring words that just might be music to your ears

By Sophie Isbister, Life & Style Editor

As the last day of class draws near and the end of semester approaches, many Douglas College students will be turning their thoughts to tropical vacations, beer pong, and the ever-elusive summer job. But others might be concerned about more academic matters—things like their academic standing, registration for summer semester, or perhaps an experience of perceived unfairness with an instructor or dean. This is where the office of the ombudsperson comes in, to help you navigate the musty labyrinth of policy, procedure, and advocacy.

The ombudsperson is a role at an institution whose job is to provide unbiased support and advocacy to their client. Tracy Ho, who currently works at the Douglas Students’ Union as College Relations and Member Outreach Coordinator, described the job thusly: “I see the role of the ombudsperson as laying out everything very clearly, [and] answering any questions that the person may have about the next step, and [offer] clarification on policy and that kind of thing.” Ho is currently the acting ombudsperson, and has been in the role since May of last year. She has a long history of working with students’ unions, having started as an elected representative at the University of Victoria’s students’ union, and later working as staff at the Vancouver Community College students’ union. Ho spoke with The Other Press about her work as interim ombudsperson, and what that role can do for students.

Ho says that the most common types of cases she deals with are grade appeals, and that while the ombudsperson acts primarily as an advisor on policy, she can and will accompany students to meetings associated with their potential (or actual) appeals case. ”[W]e’ll sit down and go through their case and talk about what has happened, the timeline of the issue, what they think the issue is, what kind of resolution they’re looking for… and then we go through the process and procedure that’s already laid… by the college policy,” says Ho.

She adds, “Usually we go through that, and [then] the ombudsperson would advise the student what the next steps are, and then offer to attend meetings with them.” The first step of the official appeals process is an informal sit down with the instructor, dean, or department chair. The ombudsperson always offers to attend these meetings with the student, but Ho tells us, “It’s up to [the student] if they want the ombudsperson to be present or not.”

Having a peer advocate by your side when you’re dealing with the stress of an appeals process is very useful. Since the bulk of the appeals cases an ombudsperson takes on are regarding academic standing, the busiest time for Ho is usually after final grades have been released. And since the official appeals process can take a long time, students are usually enrolled in the following semester’s courses by the time they’re in these appeal meetings. Ho stresses the importance of having the ombudsperson there as a peer support network, as well as a policy buff.

“Oftentimes, students are already in a stressful situation, and they have to present their case, lay out everything that’s happened, and they have to request and the resolutions [they] would like, and oftentimes they aren’t able to take notes because they’re so stressed out already about dealing with this.” Ho says that’s where the ombudsperson can provide real support in meetings, by taking notes for the student, or catching information they may have missed. “[With] an ombudsperson there, [just] having another person providing the peer support provides a huge support network,” she says.

So what is the appeals process? Ho says, “If an informal meeting doesn’t come to a resolution, then we’d begin the formal steps of requesting to the dean an appeal. Then there are a number of different steps, eventually [leading] to an appeals committee where a student would present and then an instructor would present and then the appeals committee would make a final decision.”

According to the Douglas College website, the Grades Appeals Committee is made up of one dean and one counsellor (who are both non-voting members), two instructors from within the faculty in question (including one from the program in question, and one from outside the program), and one student. The two faculty members and the one student member of the committee vote.

Having a transparent policy publically-posted on the Douglas College website is important, and having many systems in place for students to appeal decisions they deem unfair is crucial in fostering a supportive educational institution. Ho states that it’s “Really important for students to know they have rights and [that] their perspective is important for us to hear. If they do have an issue, there are people to talk to.”

There is no shortage of people to talk to. In the Student Appeals policy posted on the college website, it states that, “Students are encouraged to consult with a College Counsellor, the Douglas Students’ Union Ombudsperson, the First Nations Services Coordinator, the Women’s Centre Coordinator, or the Centre for Students with Disabilities Coordinator prior to filing a formal written Appeal.” It’s a good idea to consult in an unofficial capacity first, because as Ho says, sometimes an informal resolution can be met simply by sitting down and talking about it.

Ho says that students will sometimes decide not to go through with the process after speaking with her, but that it’s important that students come and speak with the ombudsperson regardless of whether they are certain of their case or not: “We don’t keep records that identify students, but we can keep track of the different types of issues that students come to us [with]. The ombudsperson can know what kind of issues the students are facing, and the DSU can know what the issues are … so the DSU can more accurately lobby for policy changes. It’s very important that, even if you come in and you’re just venting, then we know [the issues], and students union can be much more informed about advocating for the right changes that are needed for students to have a better education experience.”

This is why Ho feels that the ombudsperson provides crucial help about which students should be aware. “It’s one of the most important services that the students’ union provides for students at Douglas. Advocacy and voice, and just helping them,” Ho says.

She closes our interview with an encouragement to students to come see the ombudsperson at the DSU at either the New Westminster or David Lam campus: these systems are put in place to help students, to help take a bit of weight off your shoulders during stressful times.

Vancouver: shattered mosaic or melting pot

By Elliot Chan, Staff Writer

Look carefully through the urban retail stores, coffee shops, and construction sites, and you will see the foundations of Vancouver: a First Nation’s totems pole, a Chinese noodle house, a Punjabi market place, and an Italian bocce game. Culture is defined in the Oxford Canadian Dictionary as “the arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement regarded collectively.” But together, there is little agreement.

Fusion. While some promote the idea of cultures merging together, others are disgusted by the thought of losing their heritage. Vancouver claims to be an accepting place to learn, work, and live, but in a city where we can choose to be whoever we want, we still choose to blend in with our own. If each community separates themselves, is the city still unified? Or are we all just functioning on different levels of tolerance? Canada has never been more diverse, and with population increasing, a utopia seems ever more elusive.

“If you come to France, you accept to melt into a single community, which is the national community,” said French president Nicolas Sarkozy a few years back,  “If you do not want to accept that, you cannot be welcome in France.”

David Cameron, Prime Minister of Britain, echoed the same ideals: “We don’t tolerate racism in our society carried out by white people; we shouldn’t tolerate extremism carried out by other people.”

While Canada is still driven by the visions of Pierre Elliott Trudeau, other world leaders agree that the best way to rid violence and hate is for those immigrating to different countries to fully accept the established customs—but discarding baggage is easier said than done.

Taranjot “T.J.” Kaur, a Douglas College international student from India, understands how difficult it is to be accepted into a new environment. “People already have friends living here, so they don’t want to be friends with someone they don’t know,” she said. “You are not at that comfort level. At first you want to be with people that understand you and your needs. And later on, you can go out and be friends.”

“It’s very scary talking to domestic students,” said Natalia Zinoveva, an international student from Russia. “I was super shy and they weren’t really nice… they started guessing my accent. I would be sitting there and they would be talking like I’m not there. What the heck, people? Now I have Canadian friends, but they also seemed not nice in the beginning.”

The initial fear is common, causing travelers to retreat into their shell. But despite the anxiety, the students still remember why they chose Canada. Ruab Waraich recalls her reasons for leaving India, “Canada has a good ranking in the English-speaking world in terms of education. The job opportunities are good here,” she also added. “Canadians have a good reputation.”

But despite the first-class reputations, locals’ connections with internationals are often met with reproach. “Whenever you talk to them,” said Kaur, “they will first ask you, ‘By the way, where are you from? You don’t sound Canadian.’ That’s not your problem. It’d just be nice if they ignored it.”

Such exchanges rarely happen back home in Brazil for Rodrigo Meirelles, “You don’t usually ask people where they are from in Brazil, because everybody is Brazilian. But here there is the law of multiculturalism, which is awesome, but some of us need to study more. If we choose to come here, it is us who need to adapt—not them.”

Rigel Biscione from Venezuela doesn’t think everything should be one-sided, and that locals should meet internationals halfway. “They should be used to the fact that there are a lot of international people and interact with us.”

According to surveys from over the past decade, 85 per cent of Canadians support multiculturalism—a percentage not shared by most countries. So how are our diverse communities different from theirs? Some believe that the word “multiculturalism” itself has changed in Canada, particularly in Vancouver. We are now focused more on the “multi” part, and less on the “culturalism.”

We must keep in mind that Canada is still a young country at 146-years-old, and Vancouver is only 127. Comparing our youthful culture to that of Britain, France, and Germany seems unfair; after all we are still prepubescent, slowly learning who we are and what we want to be when we grow up.

Language retention rate and the amount of time ethnic communities have been in Canada can determine how each has adapted to Canadian customs. In the early 20th century, a large group of Italians immigrated to Canada, followed by another group after World War II. Only 39 per cent can now speak Italian fluently. Meanwhile, Indians who traveled to Vancouver to work in the booming lumber industry a century ago, still have an overwhelming 84 per cent fluency in Punjabi; a large enough demographic to develop a Hockey Night in Canada Punjabi broadcast. It’s easy to see how much each culture differs. Some are open to change, while others are more conservative, tentatively adapting. As time passes, will the next generation grow up with their ancestral customs and be segregated or will they acclimatize to Vancouver’s default culture?

“They have this idea that they have no culture,” said Meirelles. “If you ask [Canadians], most of them will say, ‘Oh I was born here, but my parents are from…’ Wherever. I feel like they don’t want to be Canadian.”

But deep down there are hints; distinctive traits that only Canadians have. “They say thank you and sorry to furniture,” Waraich noted with a chuckle.

“I would never wear pajamas to school,” said Zinoveva, describing the laid back style of Vancouver. “I’m so confused. Do they put on a different pajama or did they just wake up from bed? You know, school pajamas.”

“Latinos speak really loud,” said Meirelles with a shameful shake of his head. “When I came here I was taking the SeaBus and everybody was super quiet reading their books and I would always hear someone ‘Blah! Blah! Blah!’ and then I’ll pay attention and they are speaking Portuguese. Oh yeah, Brazilians.”

“Same goes for our culture too,” said Kaur, “It looks really rude, but it’s not rude.”

Canadians are the wallflowers of the globe, even in their own country. Looking back at the definition of culture, there is one thing most Vancouverites can agree on: we are polite, soft-spoken, and carefree. We may be health and safety freaks and can be a bit pompous, but with a quick glance around the globe, we can see that no culture is perfect. But it is reassuring to have a united trait.

On any given day, on any Vancouver promenade, there is a place for you. “That’s the thing I like here,” said Biscione. “I don’t ever get bored. I can do something new every day.” So perhaps that is Vancouver’s culture. The choice to be a piece in a mosaic in the morning and melt in a pot at night, it doesn’t matter, because in a city where everybody and everything is so different, there are no outsiders.

By Sharon Miki, Editor in Chief

Imagine walking through the familiar hallways of your old high school. You see the dusty classrooms where you sweated through exams in, the worn lockers that once contained your personal treasures, and the shiny trophies you fought hard for on the field. Sufficiently filled with yearbook-esque nostalgia? Now imagine re-visiting those same hallways, but this time armed with guns and ammo amidst a hail of gunfire.

Are you excited, or horrified? This is the situation faced by former Port Moody Secondary School (PMSS) students in the wake of recent controversy over the release of a detailed virtual re-creation of their school—as a map for the first-person shooter game.

The source of the controversy is a preview of a virtual map of PMSS made for the tactical game Counter-Strike: Source. Counter-Strike, which has gone through a number of iterations over the past decade, is a team-based social game where players take the role of either terrorists or anti-terrorists with the mission of eliminating each other. One of the features of Counter-Strike is that game developers (and fans with developer skills) are able to create their own virtual environments in which the game can be played, called “maps”—which is exactly what the PMSS Counter-Strike creators did.

A preview of the map released last week on YouTube shows a detailed rendering of the local school, panning from the building’s stony exterior architecture to its trademark rainbow lockers inside. The preview shows astonishing detail and effort, even going so far as to show a banner proudly bearing the school’s name.

“Thousands of hours were spent in development to create an accurate, to-scale, digital replication of the school,” explained one former-PMSS student who worked on the creation of the game in a statement.

The map is indeed incredibly lifelike and accurate. This true-to-life quality, however, takes a turn that is unsettling for some when it begins to integrate the Counter-Strike aspects of shooting and bloodshed, as representations of players move around the school shooting each other down. In the wake of a growing number of fatal school shootings in recent years, the setting of the map has caused an uproar of reactions. Is depicting shooting sprees in real school environments a legitimate artistic expression in an era of life-like gaming, or is it a sensationalist exhibition of dangerous violent tendencies?

Among former PMSS students, for whom the map is a blast from the real-life past, reactions to the game map are mixed.

“In the light of recent gun violence, there is something really scary about someone turning a school (whether it be my school, or any school, really) shooting into a game,” said PMSS graduate Alex Mierke-Zatwarnicki, who noted that her initial reaction to the video was of “shock and disgust.”

On the contrary, another PMSS alumnus, Haider Navani, viewed the game as an innocent creative endeavour. “I saw [the map as] a popular game that many Port Moody Secondary students played, offered in an environment they were familiar with.”

Indeed, it seems that the familiarity of the location is one of the major causes of both appeal and repulsion to the game—and part of its genesis. In their statement, the developers stressed the specifics of PMSS as a major purpose for the map’s creation. “[The map’s] architecture and design is rather ideal for the game’s tactics. Furthermore, this is a location we are quite familiar with already. Additionally, supporters and fellow alumni are also likely familiar with this location, which makes it an ideal common ground for this game and its intended audience.”

In interviews, supporters of the map stressed the value to gamers of having intimate knowledge on an environment—not for violent purposes, but for enhanced gameplay. Joel McCarthy, a 2008 graduate of PMSS, echoed Navani’s admiration of the game as a creative and technical pursuit, and for the value of its location for improving gameplay: “I saw the novelty of playing a video game in a location that I knew well and thought [the map] had an interesting concept. I find when I play first-person shooter games, the hard-core players know the maps so intimately that it’s hard for me to compete and I’m sometimes turned off of playing because of that.”

Others, like 22-year-old Joel MacKenzie, disagree with the necessity of setting the map at a school as a way of evoking the familiar for gamers. “[In their statement, the developers] argued that they wanted a map of a familiar setting; it goes without saying that there are countless other familiar, less controversial places they could have chosen.” MacKenzie, once an avid first-person gamer himself, went on to argue that the location of the map pushes the game into a new and disturbing arena. “[T]his map puts violence in a children’s setting, where strikingly similar violence has taken place in the past. It’s unnecessary. It seems purposefully offensive, in a way that’s so obvious it hardly needs to be mentioned.”

Whether or not they believe that setting the map at a school is ingenious or in poor taste, a larger question for many is if first-person shooter games, like Counter-Strike, have a negative impact on gamers—and if further connecting this violence to real life is dangerous. Does virtual impact reality?

“I do feel there is a connection between violent video games and real-life violence,” said MacKenzie. “Modern first-person shooters are incredibly realistic, and pair heightened, personal emotions with violence. This doesn’t mean that these games create killers, but they do encourage more aggression in general. At the same time, I feel that it would be naive to eliminate violent video games completely: people are intrinsically interested in violence, as reflected in the continuous pattern of violence from ancient stories until now.”

Mierke-Zatwarnicki, now a political science student at the University of British Columbia, stated slightly different concerns: “One of the main issues for me was less that it would cause an individual to become violent, but more that if there already is someone at Port Moody who is considering taking a violent stand, this type of simulation could serve as a practicing ground for them and amplify the sheer amount of risk they might pose. I know it is all hypothetical, but the potential is there.”

Still, the map’s creators stressed their belief in the separation between violent games and real-life violence: “We… think that players of this map and games like this will be sufficiently mature to realize that the degrees of freedom allotted to you in the virtual realm do not extend to your rights in reality.”

Regardless of the developers’ intentions, the Port Moody Secondary School Counter-Strike map preview has undeniably caused an uproar in the Tri-Cities community, as well as on both social media and on major news outlets. With the abundance of attention, largely negative, towards the project, one can’t help but wonder whether the developers’ attitudes towards their work have changed. According to their statement, they stand by their work.

“[T]here is no malicious intent behind this production to any actual school property, nor any actual persons associated with the school. We also believe that we are not violating any laws. We have confirmation from local law enforcement that we have done nothing illegal.”

Whether or not the Port Moody Secondary School Counter-Strike map is ever released to use, the aftermath of this preview shows that gaming is not always play for everyone.

Illustration by Cody Klyne/Joel McCarthy

By Jacey Gibb, Assistant Editor

The transition from traditional narcissism into a modern incarnation was as gradual as it was subtle. Since humans first discovered the reflective properties of certain surfaces, they’ve been in love with themselves—not in the conventional “hold a boom box outside of their window at night” kind of romance, but the type where the individual takes precedence over anyone and everyone. The kind of self-love that drives people to post videos of themselves singing on YouTube, desperate for comments and praise, or pull highly-publicized stunts for the media to gobble up and distribute for mass consumption. As the egomaniac Andy Warhol himself once said, “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.”

While old-fashioned narcissists still openly exist, narcissism itself can manifest in a variety of forms, with one of the most common labels for modern narcissism being social media. It’s nothing profound to say that platforms like Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram provide the perfect breeding grounds for people to showcase their narcissistic tendencies in an entirely socially-accepted manner.

But before I continue, I’d like to draw upon the theory of the “ego ideal.” Everyone has a vision in their mind of what the perfect person is: how they act, what they look like, what their strengths and weaknesses are. Whether they’re aware of it or not, many people use this invented caricature as a role model or as an example of who they would like to be one day. It doesn’t matter if this ego ideal is unattainable for the person to achieve; the image still exists.

This quest for the ego ideal is one of the reasons behind the rise of social media. Since the majority of activity on social media, ironically enough, takes place isolated behind a screen, a person is allowed more room to explore and fabricate a different personality for themselves, whether it’s one that’s funnier or flirtier or more opinionated than their usual self.

To draw upon my own personal experiences, I remember hearing the term “Internet funny” a few years ago and it stuck with me for good reason. The term is used to describe when a person isn’t funny in real life, but is a modern-day John Candy whenever they’re online. The reason why there’s such a disparity in hilarity is because real life doesn’t give you time to conjure up a comeback; when you’re trying to be funny online, you have an extended timeframe with which to either make up a humourous retort or even borrow something from the Worldwide Web.

The reason I’m expanding on the idea of a person being “Internet funny” is because of the culture that comes with having this deceptive, though heavily sought-after characteristic. A person can spend most of their time thinking up funny status updates or witty tweets, all in an attempt to create a persona for the online community to see and be impressed by.

What’s most troubling about the narcissistic tendencies currently being carried out through social media is that the majority of users are unaware that their actions are of such a nature. I’ve known people to delete Facebook posts if they don’t get enough likes or comments, but whenever I’ve called the person out on such actions, they’re usually unable to explain the reason why. What it comes down to is that the need for external validation is so high that when theses confirmations aren’t met, self-doubt ensues. By allowing the actions of the public to dictate what is worthy news and deserving of commentary, a person’s internal scale can be tipped in favour of what others believe.

But a person’s ego or need for peer-approval may not be the only factor playing into the surge of social media. Research has found that responses online lead to a release of endorphins for users. That means for every comment, like, retweet, message, or friend request, a person is treated to a release of endorphins, causing a reduction in stress and an ensuing natural high. Because this after effect is so desirable, people repeat the behaviour that initially led to this feeling, i.e. serial updating.

Does this process of developing a craving, satisfying said craving, and then enjoying the ensuing reward sound familiar? It should. It’s the same kind of system an addict goes through.

It’s hard to point the finger at a single social media outlet for being the worst offender of fostering modern narcissism, if only because they all encourage mass peer-validation. Facebook makes constant suggestions over who you should be friends with (if only because you share a single mutual friend); Twitter makes a status symbol out of how many followers you’ve amassed. The fact that Ashton Kutcher gained a morsel of fame from becoming the first Twitter user to have more than a million followers is a gag without a punchline. The emerging controversy over people apparently making money off of selling followers, along with the revelation that accounts with astronomical amounts of followers could be piggybacking off of fake accounts, is as sure a sign as any that this drive for people to immerse themselves within a virtual popularity contest causes irrational behaviour. Collecting followers for the sake of collecting followers? I’d say this is madness, but this is social media.

While social media is largely a promoter of narcissism, the cause behind the rise of overzealous self-love emerged accidentally from good intentions: in an attempt to foster self-esteem and help develop a sense of self-worth in people, an overwhelming sense of entitlement took over.

From our days as snot-nosed children through the pubescent, hormone-ridden years, we are told by our parents and surrounding mentors how “special” we all are. We’re led to believe that we will all grow up to pursue our all-important dreams, become wildly successful at whatever career we settle on, and go on to save the world—every single one of the seven billion of us is destined to change the world.

The American Freshman Survey, a study that has been completed by over 9 million young people since its inception almost 50 years ago, asks students every year to rate themselves on categories such as their drive to achieve, social self-confidence, and intellectual self-confidence. An analysis of the data collected in 2012 produced some troubling results: every year, there has been a dramatic increase of “above average” responses in each category that the study deems to be “individualistic.” The results have also established that there is a clear “disconnect between the student’s opinions of themselves and actual ability.” Young people of the world are floating around with inflated egos, without the necessary skills to prove, and it’s because of the way they were raised.

While I thought my idea to investigate the evolution of narcissism was rather inventive of myself (how narcissistic!), I was disappointed to find that a quick Google search revealed a world of similar opinions: that people are slowly becoming overconfident, more self-assured, and displaying the characteristics most commonly associated with narcissism. Sources, ranging from academic studies to simple blog posts, are mostly in agreement about the rise of narcissism, but I also encountered a viewpoint that I’d never even considered: that this isn’t an epidemic at all and that the transition into a society where self-worth has a higher GDP was inevitable.

There’s no denying that we’re a bunch of cocky, self-loving fleshbags, but there’s also not a lot we can do about it now. The idea everyone believes they are above-average, no matter how impossible that may be, has been engrained in each of our special nervous systems and will continue to have an impact on the way our society operates. Whether it’s placing an illogical amount of importance on something as mundane as collecting followers or laying claim to being the mastermind behind a video that’s gone viral, a sense of what’s important and adds to our self-worth will continue to be distorted. The best you can do in these narcissistic time is to try and keep a level head and remember what the wise philosopher Tyler Durden once said, “You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else.”

We’ve all heard the term “dine and dash.” It’s when a customer goes to a bar or restaurant, runs up a tab with a server, and then takes off without paying. It’s theft, but people steal all the time. But the difference between shoplifting and dine and dashing is that it’s the server, not the business, who pays the bill at the end of the night.

As a result, many bars have created what’s called a “dine and dash fund.” Every time a server works, it’s mandatory that they contribute anywhere from $0.25 to $1 to the business. This money sits in a pot held by the manager of the establishment so that in the event of a walkout or “dine and dash” the money they have slowly accumulated pays for the bill.

It may seem like a good idea: pubs and bars in the Tri-Cities are struggling enough as it is without adding theft into the mix, and it’s only a dollar from an employee. However, the problem with this fund is that it completely contravenes the Employment Standards Act. Sections 1F and 21 explicitly state that neither employee wages nor gratuities (tips) may be deducted or used in any way by an employer for the “cost of doing business.” While a server or bartender has a responsibility to try to stop people from stealing from the business they work for, holding the employee responsible for the money against possibly dangerous assailants makes it seem as though a $40 bill is more important than an employee’s life.

I’ve worked in the service industry for the past two years. In that time, I have been robbed at gunpoint and had a customer pull a knife on me when I wouldn’t start a tab for him. I have also been forced to pay into dine and dash funds and for walkouts. And though I’ve never actually been harmed by a customer, it is not unrealistic to assume someone may be armed and dangerous. There is no way of knowing what someone will do—especially if they’re drunk.

Oftentimes, there’s nothing more someone could have done to prevent a customer from walking out on his or her bill. A server at the Meridian Arms Pub in Port Coquitlam, who asked not be named, once had to pay out over $300 for a customer’s bill. “I had taken over the table from another server who was finished their shift, and then the pub lost power,” she said. “I couldn’t remember everything that had been on the bill so I manually wrote up as much as I could but there was $300 unaccounted for when we got power back.”

That money was taken out of her next paycheque. When asked if she thought it was wrong for the business to take that money from her, although it was not her fault, she said: “Yeah, it sucks that I lost that money, but I’ve made a lot more in the time I’ve been there than what I’ve had to pay in walkouts.” She also told me that while the Meridian Arms does not have a dine and dash fund, every server has to pay for a walkout when they occur.

One of the only ways to ensure payment is to ask for a credit card, but this is often not expected of employees in a pub and not consistently done. “I would ask for credit cards for tabs at the (Meridian) Arms but no one else does and customers would look at me funny or get mad if I did,” she said.

Danielle Piasecki, a former floor manager at Port Coquitlam’s San Remo Pizza Home, agrees that servers should pay for walkouts. “Most servers don’t end up paying income tax on every single dollar they make and there aren’t a lot of jobs like that out there.”

Piasecki says she believes no one speaks up against the violation because it’s part of “a deal” between employers and employees in the serving industry. “There are a lot of things that happen in this industry that shouldn’t and not just dine and dash funds,” said Piasecki. “There are a lot of indiscretions—like servers drinking on shift with customers—that employers ignore and there’s a lot of good money to be made really fast.”

The way in which bars choose to enforce dine and dash policies varies greatly from place to place, but of the six I investigated, they all had some policy that resulted in the server paying for a dine and dash.

A nighttime shift supervisor for the Treehouse Neighbourhood Pub, Erica*, who has also worked for The Foggy Dew and The French Quarter Pub (which closed down last year) said she has never paid into a dine and dash fund or for a walkout. “It’s illegal for them to make me pay and so I don’t,” she said. “I’ve also only ever had one walkout in the time I’ve been serving and it wasn’t my fault.”

Erica also said The Foggy Dew had a slightly different approach. “The management there makes it clear during the orientation that any drinks you take from the bar to a table become your own drinks once they leave the bar.”

This means that if someone doesn’t pay the server for that drink, the onus is on the server to pay. She also said she watched The French Quarter “sneak” their way into having a dine and dash fund. “Originally there was a slot on our cash out sheets that said “social fund” and we were supposed to put in $0.50 each time we worked for a big staff party.”

But after a year of working there, Erica said the little “social fund” slot changed to “D+D.” Erica confronted the owner of the bar, as well as the manager, about the change, and was told it was now a mandatory dine and dash fund. When she argued about the legality of the decision to create the fund, she was told that if she didn’t pay into it then any walkouts that occurred would be taken out of her paycheque.

I also worked at The French Quarter and during a shift change (where the night staff relieves the day staff) I was dealing with a customer who wanted to pay their bill and turned around to find one of my other customers missing. I looked everywhere for the gentlemen who still owed me $45 but he was gone. He made it past two other servers who were talking by the door and my manager, who was also standing by the door, but I was still blamed. The next paycheque I received was short $45. When I asked the owner and the manager what had happened, the owner told me: “Well, you had that walkout a week ago so I just took it out of your pay.”

Dorothy, a representative with the Employment Standards Branch, said there are no loopholes to the regulations. “It’s explicitly stated in Section 1F and Section 21 that an employer cannot take money from an employee for a dine and dash fund or for walkouts.”

When asked why every bar was violating the Act, Dorothy said; “If people don’t report it, then we can’t fix it.” If there is an incident or wrongful garnishing of wages or gratuities, Dorothy said they (Employment Standards) would send an officer to recover the wages for the individual.

Of the servers I spoke to, only Erica knew someone who had taken action against an employer. “There was one girl I worked with who got the labour board involved when her wages were garnished at The French Quarter, and she did get the money back. She also lost her job in the process.” Erica didn’t remember the official reason the server was let go, but said she believed the girl would have kept her job longer if she hadn’t fought against it.

No one, however, was able to answer why—since it’s against regulations—employees are still paying for walkouts. Not one of the servers, managers, or even the Employment Standards Branch had a reason.

Interestingly, there is a lot of fear from employees on the issue. Only one server I interviewed agreed to have her name printed, despite the number of people who were willing to speak with me about their bar’s policies. It would seem as though, with servers being at the mercy of an industry of management that believes it is up to the server or bartender to collect money for the booze they bring to people, no one wants to get caught pointing a finger for fear of losing their place within the industry.

It’s unclear whether or not policies will ever change, but for now, servers will continue to pay when customers don’t.

*Indicates name has been changed.

Uncovering the truth behind psychopathy

By Aidan Mouellic, Contributor

What sort of image comes to mind when you think of a psychopath? Chances are you conjure up images of serial killers with catchy nicknames or fictional characters like Dexter or Hannibal Lecter. We correlate psychopaths with coldness and gruesome violence. But with one per cent of the general population meeting the criteria to be classified as a psychopath, it comes as no surprise that not every crowd contains a bunch of calculating serial killers.

Psychopathy is one the most misunderstood psychological disorders—and is also of the most unique. Unlike other disorders of the mind, such as depression or schizophrenia, psychopathy does not cause considerable suffering to the afflicted individual—for the most part, they are happy with what they are. Most psychopaths who walk amongst us are not locked behind bars, but are walking in our midst, living without a conscience and with grand aspirations of wealth and dominance.

What is psychopathy?

Since I’ve told you that actual psychopaths are far from those generally depicted in pop culture, you may be wondering what a psychopath is. Some psychopaths are exactly how you might imagine them to be: cold-hearted, violent monsters—but the majority of psychopaths are not.

As with most mental disorders, to determine if someone can be classified as a psychopath, a test is given. The most common test is the Hare Psychopathy Checklist-Revised (PCL-R), a tool developed by Vancouver-based psychologist Robert D. Hare. The checklist contains 20 personality traits that are linked with psychopathy and the results determine whether or not someone is a psychopath. The results of the PCL-R are not black or white. Someone can be mildly or majorly psychopathic, but they can also be not psychopathic at all. To be classified as a psychopath, you must score high in all areas of the checklist.

Some of the most critical areas on the checklist determine what a person’s personality is like. This is done by finding out how impulsive someone is, whether or not they have a grandiose sense of self-worth, if they have superficial charm, short-lived emotions, lack of remorse or empathy, are manipulative, and have a tendency to lie. The other part of the checklist forms a sort of personal history, seeing if the subject is prone to boredom, has a lack of realistic long-term goals, promiscuous sexual behaviour, poor behavioural control, as well as juvenile delinquency problems.

When you put all the pieces of the checklist together and someone can relate closely to each point, they are likely a psychopath. As for the notion that a psychopath is someone who is handy with a chainsaw and creatively kills people in the most absurd ways possible, they are the minority.

Local history

New Westminster and Coquitlam both have a rich history in dealing with psychopathy. While it’s not something worth adding to a town’s welcome sign, it’s worth being proud of.

In 1924, the Acute Psychopathic Unit opened up at the Riverview Hospital in Coquitlam. Later renamed to Centre Lawn, the unit housed many patients deemed to be psychopaths, though the facility was mostly used to assess new patients and then distribute them to more appropriate facilities onsite. Currently, Centre Lawn no longer houses patients but is used as a set for many popular films and television shows. So perhaps psychopaths are back at work inside Centre Lawn, seeing as how Hollywood is full of people with grandiose beliefs of self-worth and faulty moral character.

On the other hand, New Westminster has been the home to some of the most groundbreaking research ever done on the minds of psychopaths. In the 1960s, the psychologist Robert Hare was working at the Sapperton-based British Columbia maximum security penitentiary and doing early research on the subject of psychopathy. The now decommissioned penitentiary has mostly been demolished, but some of the buildings still remain (one prominent remnant of the prison is the Dublin Castle Irish Sports Bar).

In the prison, Hare would gather inmates who he deemed to be psychopaths and some deemed non-psychopaths. He proceeded to give each group a series of heavy-duty electric shocks (this was before the notion of scientific ethics) while measuring the inmates’ stress response with heart rate and sweat rate monitors. What Hare discovered was major: he found that the non-psychopaths experienced fear and anxiety during the countdown to the shocks whereas the psychopaths experienced calmness before each shock. The psychopaths also had a sort of pain amnesia and forgot what the shocks were like and didn’t fear a repeat of the procedures. It was this observation that led to the discovery that a psychopath’s brain structures varies from a non-psychopath’s. Hare proceeded to conduct other experiments with the inmates that cemented his earlier findings, such as showing inmates grotesque images and then blasting an unexpected sound. The non-psychopaths jumped with surprise whereas the psychopaths did nothing. The part of the brain that Hare found to be different, the amygdala, is almost completely inactive in psychopaths. The amygdala is where anxiety is born, and is also known as the fight-or-flight centre of the brain.

When Hare sent the results of his work done in New Westminster to be published, the editor refused because the people who work for the magazine believed his results couldn’t be from real people.

Where are the psychopaths?

You may be wondering that if psychopaths make up one per cent of the population and appear rather normal, then where might they be and how can we spot them? The answer to this is surprisingly easy. An extensive survey in the United Kingdom had participants undertake a psychopath test and then list their profession. The profession with the most psychopaths is the corporate CEO, followed by lawyer. Many of the traits of a psychopath are, in moderation, beneficial to those careers. The least psychopathic professions: care aides and nurses.

A psychopath is someone who tends to be divorced from their emotions and avoid any close human connection. These characteristics, along with having a lack of remorse, can help an individual make the difficult decisions needed to excel in business. That is likely why the overall percentage of psychopaths in society is a single per cent, while it is 10 per cent for CEOs.

On paper, a lot of the traits of psychopaths don’t seem so bad. Their lack of fear, impulsivity, sexual promiscuity, and grandiosity can sometimes be enviable traits, but when you put all of their traits together, the effects are rather inhuman. If all you want in life is to succeed, no matter what the cost, then being a psychopath is a good thing—but let me add that this mentality didn’t work out so well for people like Maddoff or the folks over at Enron.

Psychopathy is a fascinating, though often misunderstood, psychological phenomenon. Unlike other brain disorders, there is no viable treatment for psychopathy. People have tried to cure psychopaths and have come close, but the treatments involved massive doses of acid—understandably, we can’t exactly be constantly handing out acid to psychopaths, now can we? The majority of psychopaths who roam the streets are also unaware of their unique condition, though spotting these individuals can be done with a bit of practice. If you think you might be a psychopath or if you would like to administer a form of the psychopath test to a friend, you can do so by visiting www.personality-testing.info/tests/LSRP.php.

Further readings:

Snakes in Suits: When psychopaths go to work by Paul Babiak and Robert D. Hare

The Psychopath Test: A journey through the madness industry by Jon Ronson

The Wisdom of Psychopaths: What Saints, Spies, and Serial Killers Can Teach Us About Success by Kevin Dutton

*Illustration by Ed Appleby.

Image by Bryce Tarling.

Could that social butterfly be a social bully?

By Leslie Ste. Marie, Contributor

The classroom buzzes with students readying for lecture to start. They unload backpacks, commiserate about homework, and rush through sandwiches cased in plastic triangles or brown Timmy’s bags. On one side of the room, three girls talk and laugh, one with exaggerated enthusiasm, as if to emphasize how fun and popular she is. In the middle of the room sits a girl, eyes red from crying, quietly working on an assignment.

Most people wouldn’t notice these unremarkable signs, or let alone see them as evidence of a bullying incident from moments before. There are no bloodied noses, and there was no spectacle like those on The Simpsons, where Nelson Muntz bellows “Ha-ha!” after pummeling a Springfield kid.

Bullying comes in many forms, and while males are more likely to use physical aggression to exert power over a victim, females are more prone to using subtle, covert tactics to do the same.

For years, psychologists who’ve studied aggression looked only at the physical and overt manifestations, concluding that girls were less aggressive than boys. The consensus began to change in the early ‘90s, after a team of Finnish researchers started interviewing preteen girls about their behaviour towards one another. The team’s conclusion was that girls were, in fact, just as aggressive as boys—though the actions manifest in a different way.

The goals of bullying are the same for both sexes: to gain social status and boost self-esteem. While boys are more prone to bullying weaker kids they hardly know, female bullies go after their closest relationships. Often referred to as relational aggression or social bullying, the perpetrator is usually charming and popular, and uses rumors, gossip, verbal taunts, and shunning to systematically isolate her selected targets and effectively exclude them from groups and activities.

The social bully is difficult to hold accountable because there is often no evidence of the underhanded tactics used, intensifying damage to the victim. Angela, a part-time student in her 30s, says she recently endured prolonged bouts of silence from a neighbour she had been close friends with. “I was devastated. But I guess if I think about it, there were signs early on,” she admits.

Angela says her aggressor made herself the hub of the block by helping with neighbour’s kids and giving gifts, like books and baked goods. “I think her generosity caused people to give her the benefit of the doubt when there were incidents, or they felt indebted to her.” Angela says the most severe incidents were reserved for those closest to her. “Her family and I got the worst of it. She tried to keep a mask on for the rest of the world.”

The two families—Angela’s and her aggressor’s—had been close for years. “We spent a lot of time with them and celebrated Christmas and most occasions together. We were the only ones she trusted to babysit her son when he was a toddler.”

That controlling nature is one of the signs Angela wishes she’d heeded, “I just thought she was a bit of a control freak. I didn’t know it would escalate.” But there were other signs, too, Angela says. Like her need to be right all the time, her poor-me attitude, and the moodiness that kept others walking on egg shells.

Angela suffered her neighbour’s hot and cold spells for years, and considered moving at one point. “I was stressed every day, wondering which one I’d run into: Jekyll or Hyde.” Angela says she felt powerless over the situation, unable to change the outcome, and alienated from other neighbours who were under her aggressor’s charming spell.

Survivors of bullying suffer significant collateral damage, such as lowered self-esteem, anxiety, insomnia, difficulty trusting others, and in some cases, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Although it may be possible to reason with some bullies, many feel justified in their behaviour and are unlikely to admit wrong-doing or back down—particularly social bullies, who are skilled at turning the tables to make themselves out as the victim.

Andria Wrench, a student counsellor at Douglas College, points out that people may not even realize they’re being bullied. “There may be an intuitive feeling that something is wrong, that you’re not being treated fairly,” she says. A victim may endure a few incidents thinking the offender is simply irritable or has been set off by some circumstance, not recognizing that the behaviour will likely persist.

When intimidation continues, and even worsens, it isn’t likely to stop without intervention. Wrench suggests talking to a counsellor, or someone you trust, sooner rather than later. “We’re here to support students and explore options. Bullying isn’t something you have to take,” says Wrench, noting that everything said to a counsellor is totally confidential.

Bullying situations typically involve more than the bully and the victim. They also involve bystanders, those who watch bullying happen or hear about it. Bystanders play a powerful role; depending on how they respond, they can either contribute to the problem or the solution. Bystanders rarely play a completely neutral role, although they may think they do. “It would have made such a difference if another neighbour or someone in her family had reached out,” says Angela.

Aside from harmful bystanders who encourage or join in on the hurtful behaviour, many people passively accept bullying by doing nothing. Without realizing it, they contribute to the problem by providing an audience or silent acceptance that allows bullies to continue their behaviour. According to a study published in the Canadian Journal of School Psychology, in over half of the cases, schoolyard bullying stops within 10 seconds of a bystander stepping in to help.

Bullying is an abuse of power and it happens in homes, schools, neighbourhoods, churches, care facilities, workplaces, and everywhere else where people interact. The power can come from a position—like being a boss, a police officer, or the hub of the neighbourhood, in Angela’s scenario. Bullying will continue to leave a mark on society as long as people entrusted with any type of power misuse it, and as long as bystanders choose to look away.

By Dylan Hackett, News Editor

The game of beer pong (according to Wikipedia) was fashioned 40 or so years ago by Ivy League boneheads with too much time on their hands. The activity has come a long way since then, now largely played by suburban boneheads willing to mess up their parents’ basement furniture with spilled lager and crushed ego. A decent tournament of beer pong is easier to maintain than a piss-up at a brewery, and has the potential to be just as awesome.

A proper game of beer pong makes the drunken brojocks of the party smile toothier than a drunken blowjob. For those weary of drunken brojocks (and drunken blowjobs), invite them to the game anyway. Watching (semi)grown men shuffle their arms overtop arrangements of Solo cups is worth the price of admission. You can probably even say, without any irony, “do you even lift?” to half of these guys and have your banter reciprocated. That feels good, right?

Fill your cups with a lager or really fluffy ale like Alexander Keith’s. Neither brownie nor bro-points are allotted to those who swill back quarter-filled cups of limited edition chocolate stouts and you’ll look like a complete knob when you hold back the game by belching out your intestines on the table. If you’re looking to parade your refined taste for craft beer, then your evening is better spent fawning over ale selection and overpriced nachos at St. Augustine’s.

Don’t be a dick at the beer pong table. Celebratory dances, handshakes, hugs, multi-step fists bumps, and rear slaps are, of course, mandatory but don’t be the pair of losers who retaliate against the winning team. Shake their hands and acknowledge their victory like a decent human being. In my days of underage imbibery, sodden by tall cans of Lucky Force 8, I sprayed the victor team with lilac-scented (I doubt it tasted like lilac) cleaning spray and my co-loser teammate proceeded to run across the table and punch a hole in the wall. Don’t be us. We were dicks.

Four types of people around the beer pong table and how to beat them

Entry-level bro

Equipped with a sixer of Coors Light Iced T and the valorous confidence that comes with being assistant captain of his house-level midget hockey team, this eager victim of Hollister advertising enlists himself in the competition in an earnest attempt to be “one of the lads.” You’ll find him embarrassingly groping his best bud’s butt cheeks by the third round with the intention of participating in the pseudo-homoerotic banter practiced by his alpha-level idols in the upper echelons of “brodom.” Incredibly prone to sexual intimidation by the opposite sex (hell, the same sex too), his performance is often curbed in the throes of rosey-cheeked bashfulness when you call him out for staring at your girlfriend’s chest. In between rounds, offer to take him outside for a Vanilla Primetime—which, if inhaled, will provide him with a dizzying niccy-rush that at best, will have him puking, or at least throw off his hand-eye coordination for the next 20 minutes.

Craft beer guy

Either taking the appearance of a geek, a hipster, or an Astronomy major, this fellow plays beer pong with commendable dexterity but limited social ability. If paired with you, this prick will expect that you drink most of his 9% ABV Tripel Belgian imperial organic unfiltered IPA cups when scored against and subsequently brag throughout the night that he finished them all in a passive aggressive struggle to prove he’s kind of, but not really, tough and hard. Avoid teaming up with him at all costs. To get his game to falter, goad him into an argument by claiming that Granville Island and Rickard’s are the best local microbrews or that Guinness is the best lager on the market—trivial arguments occupy the bulk of his over-gorged prefrontal cortex and his motor skills will suffer. For added effect, drop a few misquoted Simpsons references when his turn to throw comes up because he will correct you and thus be further distracted.

“One of the guys” chick

There’s no defeating her by conventional means; she’s mastered the craft of being a flirty socialite. This isn’t just the girl who deviates from marginally-typical gender norms in her hobbies—she’s unofficially knighted as the jocks’ best lady pal. She’s more charming and socially gifted than Gregor Robertson loaded up on Valium. Unless Julian Casablancas is throwing Ping-Pong balls across your recreational furniture, she’s also probably the coolest person at the party. Running up against her at beer pong is a matter of divide and conquer.

The self-appointed referee

Flexing his ego through macho posture, mutant bicep girth (brought on by creatine bulking and steroid abuse), and rule enforcement, the self-appointed referee and wielder of a twistedly-rigid mental rulebook is everyone’s worst enemy at the table. If this stereotype takes the form of an Engineering major, expect the jackass to bring out his measuring tape and make sure your cups take the shape of a perfect pyramid. Expect him to bring up a made up rule regarding your elbow positioning and posture to discredit any cups you score. If the game takes place in his resident municipality, expect him to hide behind “PoCo rules” or some other contrived regulation guided by over-resolute city boundaries.

To take down this creatine cretin, this whey-weary charlatan, make him aware of the effect that alcohol has on testosterone production. He’ll either fuck off altogether or hop on the “guyet” and buy a twelver of that wheaty piss marketed as Molson 67. Either way, his table presence is kept in check.

If you’re throwing a party, you should also throw a beer pong tournament. It’s better and more inclusive than other recent party favourite, flippy-cup. It also requires more skill, a reputable ballistic finesse, a refined three-finger jump shot—flippy cup basically hands your liver’s fate over to the bounce of a stupid red cup. Buy a table tennis setup or make use of your dining room furniture. You should also invite me.