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Saturday 16 December 2017

13 Pages of Fast-Paced, Erratic Palaeoanthropology, with Occasional Digressions from Wikipedia-readable Topics


Everything One Needs to Know about Palaeoanthropology, Some of which you can’t get from Wikipedia (a “Monograph” in the Style of Spike Milligan)

The story of palaeoanthropology begins when the homo genus begins… Or it would, if this weren’t a vexed question. Truth is it’s hard to say when the story begins.
One might have thought the obvious place to begin our story would be the “Chimpanzee Human Last Common Ancestor (CHLCA)”. Alas, anyone who might have thought this is ignorant, since the “Chimpanzee Human Last Common Ancestor” is not known! [1]  The attempt to pinpoint the CHLCA is seriously complicated by the fact that hybridisation between species belonging more distinctly to either the “Homo” or the “Pan” genus lasted until perhaps 4 million years ago. In any case, the idea of a Last Common Ancestor is actually a way sexy idea than it maybe first appears. It becomes less cool, I think, when you reflect more deeply on how genetics works throughout massive stretches of time – recognising for example, that the last common ancestor between two phylogenetic trees moves back as we move back in time (the common ancestor between Homo erectus and the ancient chimp ancestors contemporaneous with it would have been probably a fair bit farther back in history than the CHLCA), or recognising the fact that the CHLCA, ‘whoever’ it was, is only infinitesimally closer to us genetically than its contemporaries and in that sense not super ‘special’ (this schematic diagram of Mitochondrial Eve’s relationship to us marginally helps in getting your head around the idea of a last common ancestor way back in the past: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitochondrial_Eve#/media/File:MtDNA-MRCA-generations-Evolution.svg).  Anyhow, the following Wikipedia page is a lapidary review of the research on the CHLCA, and the difficulties surrounding this research topic: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chimpanzee–human_last_common_ancestor (Wikipedia is a pretty good source for palaeoanthropology nowadays, with proper sourcing and useful hyperlinked phylogenetic trees and the like. It’s a really excellent recent development. I cannot be made to feel embarrassed about using Wikipedia as a major source on this shit, because it’s really good.).
It’s worth mentioning that some people say dodgy shit involving this phrase “Chimpanzee Human Last Common Ancestor” – usually, dodgy shit of the epistemically arrogant kind (suggesting that we know more than we in fact do). For example, I am told that this tiny-brained, probably-not-bipedal species from 7 million years ago (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sahelanthropus), is often called the last Chimpanzee Human Last Common Ancestor (we note here that people sometimes use this word “ancestor” to mean ancestral species, which certainly confuses matters in this context). The truth is we (by which I mean people who are actually experts in these topics) have no idea whether there is another more recent species some of whose members are common ancestors to humans and chimps. My research suggests that the rational attitude to hold would be that there probably is, since there are plenty of proto-hominin and proto-pan species from this vintage which are lost to time! Here’s a disturbing fact: we will never learn anything about 99+% of the big interesting creatures that have ever existed (let alone the small uninteresting ones), because we will never uncover any evidence that testifies to their existence.  
Personally, I don’t really give a shit about chimpanzees; I am way more interested in the uncanny-valley creatures that clearly couldn’t be classified within the “Pan” genus and have skulls larger than the piddling 320-380cm3 of the Sahelanthropus tchadensis. The next two species in our timeline don’t really have very big brains, but at least they’re distinctly more “Homo” than “Pans”. I am here talking about the two species we’ve found[2] that we’ve decided to classify as members of the Ardipithecus genus,  “A. ramidus, which lived about 4.4 million years ago[2] during the early Pliocene, and A. kadabba, dated to approximately 5.6 million years ago (late Miocene)”. Now, once again, the Wikipedia article on this genus is actually much more useful than me (this will not be the case nearly so much when it comes to Homo erectus and beyond, which constitutes one of the two reasons why it is not completely pointless for me to write this engaging monograph; the other is that I make you laugh) so I would recommend you consult that now: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ardipithecus. Obviously, even though this Wikipedia article possesses much more information on this genus than I can provide (even after having read it myself, because I don’t have an eidetic memory ) I can still also intelligently draw attention to the most interesting extracts from this article and analyse them in the context of my extensive auxiliary knowledge. Here is the part of the article where the things that make this genus non-chimpanzee-like are discussed, which I find particularly interesting:
“The teeth of A. ramidus lacked the specialization of other apes, and suggest that it was a generalized omnivore and frugivore (fruit eater) with a diet that did not depend heavily on foliage, fibrous plant material (roots, tubers, etc.), or hard and or abrasive food. The size of the upper canine tooth in A. ramidus males was not distinctly different from that of females. Their upper canines were less sharp than those of modern common chimpanzees in part because of this decreased upper canine size, as larger upper canines can be honed through wear against teeth in the lower mouth. The features of the upper canine in A. ramidus contrast with the sexual dimorphism observed in common chimpanzees, where males have significantly larger and sharper upper canine teeth than females.[9]
The less pronounced nature of the upper canine teeth in A. ramidus has been used to infer aspects of the social behavior of the species and more ancestral hominids. In particular, it has been used to suggest that the last common ancestor of hominids and African apes was characterized by relatively little aggression between males and between groups. This is markedly different from social patterns in common chimpanzees, among which intermale and intergroup aggression are typically high. Researchers in a 2009 study said that this condition "compromises the living chimpanzee as a behavioral model for the ancestral hominid condition."”
As you journey through this monograph (this word elevates what will really turn out to be a madcap ramble), you’ll notice that one of the key themes of palaeoanthropology is what an idiot might term the magic of teeth. Stripping away the dumb jokes (enamel) from this sentence, the hard calcium core of what I’m saying is simply this: teeth can tell you a lot. … Incidentally, my grandpa was a dentist. He died in 2014 but his genes (which are, sadly, mildly degenerate in that they seem to be associated with a really shitty nose phenotype and a proneness to going deaf, even if they are also associated with intelligence (both sides of my family are high-intelligence, which explains my cosmic intellect)) live on. A Homo sapiens man continuing the line going back 200-350,000 years… Reely maeks u think.
Returning to the science (said with snooty, shade-throwing emphasis by the grumpy, middle-aged superego-version of me), it is super interesting that although these Ardipithecus monsters were probably not bipedal, the teeth (and the diminished sexual dimorphism) suggest to us that they were not living a chimpanzee-style lifestyle, and that their menfolk were acting slightly less like Clint Eastwood and more like Michael Cera (I normally go for higher-brow references but maybe this joke will bring in the masses, and I can set up a Patreon). I mean, we shouldn’t exaggerate on this point; I mean, I didn’t (I said “slightly”), what I’m really saying is you shouldn’t exaggerate on this point. Don’t do it, asshole! But it is interesting. To me. I don’t presume.
Actually, fuck these Ardipithecus idiots. They were still microcephalic as fuck. If you saw one in the wild, your folk biology wouldn’t have any trouble classifying it as very much “an animal”. When we’re talking about this genus, we’re still way back at 4 million years here; we’re not quite in the uncanny valley. The question is: where do we go for some unambiguously hominin[3] action?
Answer: we can stay in the Pliocene to find the late Australopithecines (I used the qualifier “late” because some people use the word Australopithecines to encompass even the species I just mentioned apparently)! Australopithecus afarensis, the Australopithecus which we know most about (perhaps living between 3.9 million and 2.9 million years ago (late Pliocene, basically)), is most definitely a hominin, with a bigger brain than the Ardipithecines (though still only 380-430 cm3) and a definitely bipedal gait (maybe not fully upright and possibly spending a fair amount of time in trees, however, especially judging by the curvature of the “phalanges” and the ‘wrist-locking’ mechanism), as well as a plurality of other exciting properties. It may well be a direct ancestor of us.
As the (again) excellent Wikipedia page for this species notes (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australopithecus_afarensis), we have given a name to our most complete Australopithecine fossil: “Lucy”. This Wikipedia page also has loads of really interesting anatomical analysis giving the reasons why we are highly confident that Lucy and her conspecifics were bipedal. Probably the biggest thing that sticks out about Lucy’s skeleton in contrast with a chimp female’s is her wide hips, and one of the things that is noted in the article is that the hips of late Australopithecines were very human-like. The pelvis and happens had to change to be more ‘human-like’ very early on in our evolutionary story, because bipedalism couldn’t happen without a big change in the pelvis!
One of the major interesting questions raised in the Wikipedia article is this: what were the evolutionary pressures that forced the evolution of bipedalism? The article explains the basic theory well: “Climate changes around 11 to 10 million years ago affected forests in East and Central Africa, establishing periods where openings in forest lands prevented travel through the tree canopy. During such times proto-hominins could have adopted upright walking behaviour for ever-increasing ground travel, while the ancestors of gorillas and chimpanzees continued to specialize in climbing vertical tree trunks and lianas with a bent-hip and bent-knee posture—which ultimately lead them also to adopt knuckle-walking for minimal ground travel. This differential development within the larger hominid community would result in A. afarensis being adapted to upright bipedalism for extensive ground travel while still using arms well adapted for climbing smaller trees.”
It's not a hugely sexy story, unfortunately. Climate changes really thinned out forests in certain areas, perhaps creating savannah-type areas. The niche of the proto-hominins gradually became thinly forested areas… And gradually the skeleton changed.
Less well-known than “Lucy” is this fossil, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenyanthropus, dating from a slightly later period, and known by the rather comic moniker “Flat-faced man”. As the start of this Wikipedia page explains, there are disputes over whether this fossil should be given its own species name, or whether perhaps it belongs to its own genus (or neither). The main notable thing about this fossil is that it was found near stone tools dating from a similar period which gives us reason to think that ‘its kind’ may have been one of the first stone-tool-using kinds. Another notable thing about the fossil was its humanlike facial morphology. As Wikipedia puts it, “Kenyanthropus platyops was singled out by the morphology of the maxilla, characterized by a flat and relatively orthognathic subnasal region, an anteriorly placed zygomatic process and small molars. In other words, the Kenyanthropus had small molars and a flat face which resembled anatomically modern humans.” The phrase “orthognathic subnasal region” may be opaque to the average person but basically what it means is that this creature didn’t look really chimp-like in having a face where the mouth really protrudes a lot. This is a pretty darned fascinating feature of the fossil! Again, we see that teeth can tell you a lot, and that diet seems to have been very significant in driving the evolution of hominins. Of course, the skull size of this species seems to fit well within the Australopithecus range, so its intelligence was nothing to write home about… but life isn’t all about intelligence, is it? Clearly not.
Shit really gets interesting in the very late Pliocene/very early Pleistocene (Paleolithic), because it is in this period that the Homo genus enters the scene. Specifically, it in this period that the first Homo species enters the scene in the form of Homo habilis (“handy man”).[4] The so-called “type specimen” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/OH_7) of this wonderful species was discovered way back in 1960 in that most fertile of fossil troves, the Olduvai Gorge of Tanzania (part of the famous Rift Valley), by a mother and son team by the name of “Leakey” (find out more by clicking that Wikipedia link – the Leakeys were an amazing family). Anyhow, I’m just going to do that distasteful thing of copying a section from this Wikipedia page to give a nice summary of the key properties of this specimen that gave palaeoanthropologists such confidence that they ought to create a new species category to place it in:  
“The remains are dated to approximately 1.75 million years, and consist of fragmented parts of a lower mandible (which still holds thirteen teeth, as well as unerupted wisdom teeth), an isolated maxillary molar, two parietal bones, and twenty-one finger, hand, and wrist bones.[2]
The OH 7 hand is wide, with a large thumb and broad fingertips, similar to that of humans; however, unlike in humans the fingers are relatively long and exhibit chimpanzee-like curvature. Furthermore, the thumb's orientation relative to the other fingers resembles the anatomy of great apes.[3] The parietal bones — a nearly complete left parietal and fragmented right parietal — were used to deduce the cranial capacity of the hominid, which was placed at 663 cc in account of the fact that the fossils belonged to a 12- or 13-year-old male. This was extrapolated by Phillip Tobias to 674 cc for the hominid's full adult potential.[4] However, other scientists have estimated the cranial capacity at 590 cc[5] to 710 cc.[6]
Louis LeakeyJohn Napier, and Phillip Tobias were among the first to extensively study the fossils. The Leakey team and others argued that, due expanded cranial capacity,[4] gnathic reduction, relatively small post-canine teeth (compared to Paranthropus boisei),[7] Homo-like pattern of craniofacial development,[8] and a precision grip in the hand fragments (which indicated the ability for tool use), set OH 7 apart as a transitional species between Australopithecus africanus and Homo erectus.”
Again, we notice the focus on orthognathism as a sign of modernity, and orthognathism going along with a reduction in the molar teeth. The skull size of Homo habilis also tells us that there must have been a tremendous evolutionary pressure for intelligence in the very late Pliocene. I get the sense that the go-to explanation for this, as with later ‘jumps’ in cranial capacity that we can identify in the archaeological record, is basically “climate variability” (plus vigorous waving of hands) (and there is interesting climatological evidence of climate fluctuations coinciding with key changes in the archaeological record, I am told).  It is possible, however, that this explanation is only a small part of the story. In general, we should worry about evolutionary explanations that are too neat, that just make so much sense, because often the reason they seem so intuitive to us seems to be that we are thinking completely the wrong way about the issue. In general, evolution is something that’s very difficult to reason about properly, and very easy to reason about very badly. In this case, I think the story sounds, on the face of it, very plausible because we think, “Oh, yeah, obviously if the climate was changing all the time, intelligence would be a major boost in helping early hominins stay alive because intelligence would allow you to remember how to find food in this situation or that – i.e. would allow for flexibility and adaptability.” But this kind of reasoning is not actually adequate: it’s a shallow, non-evolutionary perspective on what would be useful within a single life; you haven’t really explained the existence of persistent, long-term selection pressures. The real way to investigate these things is not through idle speculation, but through dumping one’s intuitions and employing computer-modelling and the like. Luckily, I think there are some people out there doing this. The point is just that we should be sceptical about master explanations; the evolution of human intelligence was surely not simple and unifactorial. 
Anyway, enough epistemological ranting… Back to the rollicking narrative.
Finally we have arrived at Homo erectus, our most exciting species yet, and probably the first hominin to leave Africa (certainly the first to colonise the world, getting as far as Indonesia!). Homo erectus evolved around 1.9 million years ago, living through most of the Pleistocene (latest fossil evidence being 143,000 years old, apparently). In other words, it is a species which persisted on the planet far longer than modern humans have been around. Of course, there is an interminable debate between ‘splitters’ and ‘lumpers’ on the question of which fossils we should classify where, with a particular controversy on the question of whether Homo ergaster should be seen as a separate species. As Wikipedia notes, with some handy references, “Debate also continues about the classification, ancestry, and progeny of Homo erectus, especially in relation to Homo ergaster, with two major positions: 1) H. erectus is the same species as H. ergaster, and thereby H. erectus is a direct ancestor of the later hominins including Homo heidelbergensisHomo neanderthalensis, and Homo sapiens; or, 2) it is in fact an Asian species distinct from African H. ergaster.” Certainly, we can say, with confidence and without controversy, that Homo erectus was a very ‘successful’ species, insofar as it persisted for a long period of time with key features staying the same. We’ll discuss these feature in a short while; for the moment, we’ll quote Wikipedia on how the first fossils of this species were discovered:
“The Dutch anatomist Eugène Dubois was fascinated by Darwin's theory of evolution especially as it applied to humankind. In 1886, he set out for Asia—which then was the region accepted as the cradle of human evolution despite Darwin's theory of African origin; see Haeckel § Research—to find a human ancestor. In 1891, his team discovered a human fossil on the island of JavaDutch East Indies (now Indonesia). Excavated from the bank of the Solo River at Trinil, in East Java, he named the species Pithecanthropus erectus—from the Greek πίθηκος,[17] "ape", and ἄνθρωπος,[18] "man"—based on a skullcap (calotte) and a femur like that of Homo sapiens.
Dubois' 1891 find was the first fossil of a Homo-species (or any hominin species) found as result of a directed expedition and search—and which was inspired by Darwin's radical theory that humans, like all other species, evolved from ancestral species, see human evolution. (The first found and recognized human fossil was the accidental discovery of Homo neanderthalensis in 1856, see List of human evolution fossils.) The Java fossil from Indonesia aroused much public interest. It was dubbed by the popular press as Java Man; but few scientists accepted Dubois' argument that his fossil was the transitional form—the so-called "missing link"—between apes and humans.[19] Java Man is now classified as Homo erectus.
Most of the spectacular discoveries of H. erectus next took place at the Zhoukoudian Project, now known as the Peking Man Site, in Zhoukoudian, China. This site was first discovered by Johan Gunnar Andersson in 1921[20] and was first excavated in 1921, and produced two human teeth.[21] Canadian anatomist Davidson Black's initial description (1921) of a lower molar as belonging to a previously unknown species (which he named Sinanthropus pekinensis)[22] prompted widely publicized interest. Extensive excavations followed, which altogether uncovered 200 human fossils from more than 40 individuals including five nearly complete skullcaps.[23] German anatomist Franz Weidenreich provided much of the detailed description of this material in several monographs published in the journal Palaeontologica Sinica (Series D).”
One thing that we should note about the features of Homo erectus is that… they do vary quite a bit. Taking a very broad perspective, I think it would be fair to say that the ‘lumpers’ won out in the case of Homo erectus. Some Homo erectus fossils have been found which are indicative of male height reaching six foot (Turkana boy may have grown to reach 6’1”, I am told), whereas others show a height comparable to that of modern pygmies, and cranial capacity varies in a similarly dramatic way (though, to be fair, we obviously do see significant height differences between ethnic groups in Homo sapiens so the case that the ‘lumpers’ won out is not totally straightforward). The creepy thing about the early Homo erectus fossils is that they seem to combine a cranial capacity not massively bigger than that of Homo habilis specimens (850 cm3) with significant height. To me, this is really the stuff of nightmares. Imagine confronting a strong, highly athletic brute with such severe microcephaly… Run!
The Javan specimens apparently measure up to 1100 cm3 cranial capacity, which overlaps with modern humans (they would probably appear to us to have pretty small heads, but maybe not freakishly so (the lack of forehead/shape of the skull would have been freakier than the size)).
Homo erectus was possibly the first species to have lost specific adaptations for swinging from trees, with more human-like arms and hands (http://www.sci-news.com/othersciences/anthropology/science-homo-erectus-human-like-hand-bone-01620.html), and probably a very human-like gait and posture. This article just linked also contains some detail on what we know about the Homo erectus diet from a combination of just looking at its teeth and jaw, and looking at the ratio of different carbon isotopes in fossil bones (this ratio changes is dependent on long-term dietary habits (we care about Carbon 4 in particular)). It seems Homo erectus specimens were about as omnivorous as us.
Actually, the diet of Homo erectus leads us naturally to the really interesting shit about Homo erectus. THEY USED STONE TOOLS AND THEY USED FIRE. They pioneered the cooking of meat, which Richard Wrangham (a man who will crop up later, when we finally discuss the saucy issues of hunter-gatherer violence and warfare) reckons may have been a crucial factor in the evolution of human physiology and intelligence (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catching_Fire:_How_Cooking_Made_Us_Human). There seem to be reasons to doubt this hypothesis – or at least doubt the extent of its explanatory power (especially since our ancestral line was experiencing rapid increase in brain size before cooking was developed). But the idea is certainly not completely stupid either.
It is thought that Homo erectus may have also pioneered the ‘hunter-gatherer’ lifestyle. Most of the specimens found seem to show a stronger degree of sexual dimorphism than we can see in Homo sapiens, which may suggest that certain aspects of their sociality were not exactly like ours (though it certainly doesn’t impugn the idea that they led a ‘hunter-gatherer’ lifestyle). Reduced sexual dimorphism likely goes hand in hand with reduced male competition for ‘mates’, so it may be that young Homo erectus males fought each other more than we do (their behaviour may have been more chimp-like than ours). This, however, is pretty rank speculation. And arguably another reason to be slightly wary of such claims is that we’re talking about a species that seems to have developed culture, at least in primitive form (https://www.nature.com/news/homo-erectus-made-world-s-oldest-doodle-500-000-years-ago-1.16477)!
As for the question of how and at what level of complexity Homo erectus communicated, the jury is out on that question. I don’t think anybody really knows, and the question of how the human language faculty evolved is a very vexed and heated one in general (http://itre.cis.upenn.edu/~myl/languagelog/archives/002422.html). That link I just gave you leads to several other papers that are worth reading if you want to find out more about what (generativist) linguists think of these issues. I get the impression from the online Twitter and blog statements of the eminent palaeoanthropologist John Hawkes that the Chomskyan ‘spandrelist’ hypothesis (the most recent statement and defence of this hypothesis can be found in the 2015 book Why Only Us? by Berwick and Chomsky, which is unfortunately already way out of date on human origins, but which certainly contains some interesting arguments, if very little linguistic evidence) is not taken all that seriously by people within his field, who instead think that a story more akin to Jackendoff or Pinker’s must be true: that is, they seem to think that the human faculty of language is not a beautiful snowflake-like structure which originated suddenly as a mutation, probably only in Homo sapiens, that aided thought by enabling recursion and was only secondarily ‘externalised’, but that the human faculty of language is a very messy thing that was shaped by selection pressures for greater communication, co-evolving with other aspects of hominin anatomy (like the development of the larynx and skull, etc). The Chomskyan hypothesis does seem prima facie perhaps a bit mystical… but there are really thought-provoking arguments in favour, too. Two of the most compelling are these: a) recursion is an all-or-nothing property that would (so the story goes) have to come about in one go and allegedly is not discernible in birdsong or in the communication systems of any other species; b) human language is seemingly almost perfectly modality-independent (sign language is just as syntactically complex and natural to learn as language expressed through the vocal tract), which seems to suggest that it did not co-evolve with communication systems and instead that the faculty of language (as a faculty of thought) connects to sensory-motor systems by an interface. (For more, you should read this book Why Only Us? [2015]). Anyway, Jackendoff and Pinker have very powerful arguments of their own. In fact, the fundamental understanding of how the language faculty works out in the human-mind that Jackendoff explicates in his truly superlative book Foundations of Language (http://npu.edu.ua/!e-book/book/djvu/A/iif_kgpm_Foundations%20of%20Language.pdf), with loads of interaction between semantics and syntax and morphology and phonology, is fundamentally incompatible with the Chomskyan/Berwickian/Fitchian hypothesis. So, for his part, he can’t really disagree without throwing out some of his fundamental claims about the mind, which do seem to have more empirical support behind them in linguistic evidence than Chomsky’s ‘minimalist’ position (that he has held since the 90s). On the other hand, I do agree with Chomsky that Jackendoff and Pinker, and other people writing about the evolution of the language faculty, often fall into the trap of reasoning very badly about the issues and making up convenient stories. As Chomsky wittily notes, people sometimes forget that we want to know how the language faculty evolved (how the human means for language acquisition evolved (how the L.A.D. evolved)), not how language evolved – and too often the stories, though claiming to be explaining the former, present narratives almost entirely divorced from computational details and relying almost totally on plausible-sounding hand-waving about the increasing ‘social tendencies’ of hominins in the Pleistocene and such like. These issues are not easy, in short.
To return to the immediate issue of to what extent Homo erectus ‘humans’ could talk, the answer is (as I already said) that we don’t really know. However, I do think pretty much everyone reckons that Homo erectus probably didn’t have our linguistic capacities; I think that pretty much everyone reckons that if you threw a Homo erectus child into a modern environment, looked after by responsible foster parents and educated in the modern education system, they would be mute and dumb (or at least close to). One might think that genetic evidence should be able to sort this out for us. However, this is a bit naïve, since the genetic correlates of language, like the genetic correlates of everything, are super non-simple (Why Only Us? has its own take on what the genetic research on language (the studies of FOX-P2 and its variants) does and does not show which I also found interesting, when I read it). Nevertheless, one idea that gets tossed around quite a lot which certainly impugns the idea that Homo erectus had complex language is the thesis that the origin of primitive art and symbolic rituals is connected to the origin of complex (recursive (?)) language, and we haven’t found much or any (?) evidence of complex burial rituals associated with Homo erectus remains… I am sure we will learn more over the coming decades.
I forgot to note that Homo erectus is also characterised by a far greater orthognathism than its ancestors and cousins. You can see that artists’ representations of Homo erectus ‘people’ are very much in the “uncanny valley” in terms of their facial morphology. I think that if they were still around today, many fewer people would doubt Darwin! Where’s the missing link? Over there, with the humanly proportioned arms and legs, and human-ish mid- and lower-face, hooting but also nursing its young and making tools!
That’s HOMO ERECTUS BABY!
A few years ago, I think it may have been consensus within palaeoanthropology that there was this species related to (but slightly smarter than) Homo erectus that is the more direct common ancestor of both Neanderthals and Homo sapiens called Homo heidelbergensis. I get the impression from watching some recent conferences and reading some stuff that people are less keen on this species nowadays, and that some reckon we should just talk about erectus as the common ancestor of Neanderthals and denisovans and sapiens (and this species, which may not descend from heidelbergensis, may be our direct ancestor: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_rhodesiensis). But this species still has its own Wikipedia page as if it is not just a subspecies of erectus (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_heidelbergensis). Basically, what this name Homo heidelbergensis seems to range over is all those fossils that date from between 700,000 and 60,000 years ago that have brain cases larger than 1100cm3 and a facial morphology closer to that of modern humans than that of Homo erectus. One cool thing about this species is that some specimens seem to be super fucking tall… “According to Lee R. Berger of the University of the Witwatersrand, numerous fossil bones indicate some populations of H. heidelbergensis were "giants" routinely over 2.13 m (7 ft) tall and inhabited South Africa between 500,000 and 300,000 years ago.”
As for the other spicy stuff you’re desperate to know about this species, let me quote Wikipedia once more:
“Social behavior[edit]
Recent findings[33] in a pit in Atapuerca (Spain) of 28 human skeletons suggest that H. heidelbergensis might have been the first species of the Homo genus to bury its dead.[34]
Steven Mithen[35] believes that H. heidelbergensis, like its descendant H. neanderthalensis, acquired a pre-linguistic system of communication. No forms of art have been uncovered, although red ochre, a mineral that can be used to mix a red pigment which is useful as a paint, has been found at Terra Amata excavations in the south of France.
Language[edit]
The morphology of the outer and middle ear suggests they had an auditory sensitivity similar to modern humans and very different from chimpanzees. They were probably able to differentiate between many different sounds.[36] Dental wear analysis suggests they were as likely to be right-handed as modern people.[37]
H. heidelbergensis was a close relative (probably a descendant) of Homo ergasterH. ergaster is thought to be the first hominin to vocalize using a mix of vowels and consonants to communicate with other members of its species,[35] and that as H. heidelbergensis developed, more sophisticated culture proceeded from this point.[38]
Evidence of hunting[edit]
A 300,000-year-old archeological site in Schöningen, Germany contained eight exceptionally well-preserved spears for hunting, and various other wooden tools. 500,000-year-old hafted stone points used for hunting are reported from Kathu Pan 1 in South Africa, tested by way of use-wear replication.[39] This find could mean that modern humans and Neanderthals inherited the stone-tipped spear, rather than developing the technology independently.[39][40]
With Homo heidelbergensis, we’re finally talking about a creature that, if it hopped on your bus, you perhaps wouldn’t immediately recoil in horror or dismay. As that short ‘Language’ section suggests, a Homo heidelbergensis kid would probably not be quite as cognitively disabled in human society as a Homo erectus kid (for the moment, we’ve gone along with the idea that these are two taxonomic groups worth distinguishing), although the average Homo heidelbergensis kid may still be diagnosed as severely retarded, hard to say.
Homo heidelbergensis evolved into Homo neanderthalensis. And the Wiki article on the Neanderthals is so fucking good that there is no point extracting passages or summarising. Here it is: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal. And here’s the article on the Denisovans, who interbred with Melanesian peoples: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denisovan. Once you’ve read these, you’ll be pretty much done, in terms of knowing everything “you need to know”.
I will finish by briefly reviewing one of my favourite topics: to what extent life was “nasty, poore, brutish and short” for our hunter-gatherer ancestors. In my discussion of The Better Angels of our Nature way back in 2015 (http://writingsoftclaitken.blogspot.com.au/2015/12/an-extremely-long-essay-called-are.html), I wrote the following on Pinker’s statistics on warfare-related deaths in hunter-gatherer and hunter-horticultural societies:
“It seems that most anthropologists disagree with Pinker on the figures of non-state peoples found to have died in war. One is the respected Rutgers University anthropologist Brian Ferguson, who has a very strong reply to Pinker’s early stats on hunter-gatherer and hunter-horticultural violence, analysing very carefully the origin of the statistics and how they are often pressganged (rather unscientifically) to bolster a particular evo psych agenda. Naturally, the people who do this claim they are the ones fighting against a political agenda, namely, a “neo-Rousseauian” agenda/political correctness (yes, everything is ideology). Ferguson’s monograph can be found here: http://www.ncas.rutgers.edu/sites/fasn/files/Pinker's%20List%20-%20Exaggerating%20Prehistoric%20War%20Mortality%20(2013).pdf
As Ferguson reveals, there is no doubt that Pinker is very committed to a view of evolutionary psychology inherited from figures like Edward O. Wilson, Martin Daly, Margaret Wilson, John Tooby and Leda Cosmides, and consistently draws on this in all his books (Pinker does tend always to cite the same people). Presumably, Pinker would justify this by saying that the evidence supports the kind of evo psych propounded by these thinkers, and it is of course true that there is plenty of evidence in today’s world for the darkness of man and so on. As I’ve already made clear, my own personal disposition on human nature (particularly male nature) is definitely Hobbesian and misanthropic, so I understand this. But I also think that Ferguson is very much justified in questioning the data. The data isn’t nearly so iron-clad as Pinker would like to think – not even close. Ferguson’s conclusion beautifully illustrates how wrong he thinks Pinker is: “Is this sample [Pinker’s list] representative of war death rates among prehistoric populations? Hardly. It is a selective compilation of highly unusual cases, grossly distorting war’s antiquity and lethality. The elaborate castle of evolutionary and other theorizing that rises on this sample is built upon sand. Is there an alternative way of assessing the presence of war in prehistory, and of evaluating whether making war is the expectable expression of evolved tendencies to kill? Yes. Is there archaeological evidence indicating war was absent in entire prehistoric regions and for millennia? Yes. The alternative and representative way to assess prehistoric war mortality is demonstrated in chapter 11, which surveys all Europe and the Near East, considering whole archaeological records, not selected violent cases. When that is done, with careful attention to types and vagaries of evidence, an entirely different story unfolds. War does not go forever backwards in time. It had a beginning. We are not hard-wired for war. We learn it.” Does Ferguson go too far the other way? Perhaps. But Pinker is undoubtedly on thin ice in this area.”
I still pretty much stand by this, even if I am also more confident now that Ferguson definitely goes too far the other way (his rhetoric is way too strong!). Also, apparently the evidence from European genomes is strongly against the hypothesis that agriculture spread through Europe by means of cultural transmission, and instead testifies to a rapid takeover of Europe by the agriculturalists from the Levant between in a few thousand years before 5000 B.C. (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/2030731), which strongly suggests that there was warfare ‘before civilisation’ in which hunter-gatherers clashed with hunter-horticulturalists or full-time farmers, whether or not we can find evidence of this in archaeology.
One thing that does really fascinate me is that it has seemingly become orthodoxy among palaeoanthropologists, anthropologists and prehistoric historians these days that, even if there was a quite considerable degree of inter- and intra-tribal violence (homicide) among hunter-gatherers, the advent and takeover of agriculture actually dramatically reduced the quality of human life for, well, literally thousands of years, with massively increased disease due to the greater population density and close proximity to animals, a less healthy and less diverse diet, greater social inequality, greater gender inequality, and (without doubt) greater social conflict and violence due to the fact that people were crammed together with conspecifics who weren’t kin. It seems that quite a few archaeologists, anthropologists and other experts claim that only in the 20th Century did we return to the average hunter-gatherer life expectancy (see, for example, the discussions in Peter Turchin’s Ultrasociety or Yuval Noah Harari’s Sapiens[5]).
Also, a very recently published analysis on the long-term historical data on human violence suggests that it is a kind of brute fact about human societies that there is a proportionally higher level of violence in small groups than large groups, and that this is independent of institutions: http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2017/12/why-human-society-isn-t-more-or-less-violent-past. There is certainly plenty to doubt in the Pinker worldview…
13 pages seems enough. I’ll stop now.

 HoHHH
had chad complex



[1] Ok, well obviously the irony here is that I am using this as my launching pad, even as I’m shooting it down as a sensible launching pad. I know this is dumb and I’m not proud.
[2] One thing that’s important to bear in mind is that the species we have to plot the timeline of human evolution (especially this far back) are an essentially miscellaneous subset of the total species that were around. There are plenty of species that we will never recover.
[3] Incidentally, important to be clear on this word “hominin” and its relation to the word “hominid”: https://www.thoughtco.com/what-is-a-hominin-reassessment-171252
[4] These kinds of locutions seem indispensable but you should always maintain awareness that when people say stuff like “The first species of the Homo genus,” that is less a crystalline fact about the world, and more a kind of internal taxonomic tautology: we have declared that these fossils are the first hominins, certainly using rational criteria but not in a way that avoids arbitrariness altogether.
[5] This latter book had essentially nothing to teach me and was pretty intellectually insipid (covers an absurd amount, in pathetic detail), and I wouldn’t recommend it to smart people (the sequel, about ‘our future’, sounds pretty laughable (it’s easy to come up with random futuristic-sounding shit like future humans/cyborgs will “worship data”, and it is not intellectually serious)).

Back on my Bullshit after 1.5 Years: Extract 10 of the Memoirs

After reading this achingly beautiful and thoughtful article (https://www.currentaffairs.org/2017/10/the-autobiography-of-robert-pruett (possibly the best single work of political writing I have ever read, deeply moving and persuasive)), my friend H (who found the article for me and T to read) said Pruett's autobiography sounds a lot like mine. This made me reflect on the fact that it did feel to me somewhat like I spent my adolescence in a prison cell (my room), with an activity yard (school/sport) and some unpleasant inmates (my parents). Reading the article, I did feel that I shared quite a lot with Pruett. I have experienced a level of solitude over my life that is extremely rare for people who aren't inmates. My 'identification' surely made Robinson's piece more soul-mangling to me than it would others. That Pruett is now dead is an atrocity. I salute Robinson for his advocacy, and I spit on those who perpetrated this demonic and demented crime (there can be no sober, righteous anger without ridiculous pretension).
A long time ago, I thought I'd given up on my project, perhaps for good. I declared it an "artistic failure" in a post of mine which I pretty much stand by [http://writingsoftclaitken.blogspot.com.au/2016/08/a-brief-discourse-on-shame-that-attends.html]. But I am back on my bullshit. My extreme narcissism and personality issues have not been cured or even alleviated in the intervening period, and so it is natural that I return to this bizarre project, which provides me with tremendous succour for reasons I don't entirely understand. One of the sources of succour is the process of publication, even though I know of only one guaranteed attentive reader in the world who isn't me for these particular works (there may be one or two others... possibly). I guess I am just emotionally roused by the symbolic act of 'imposing' my life story on the world. Meaning to the suffering. Something like that...
Suffering is ubiquitous in human life, and most of it doesn't end up on the news or in literature, lamented by a large number of persons. Most of it goes by unlamented, or lamented by one or two intimate friends or family members at best. The idea that loads of people could empathise with your feelings is, I think, immensely attractive, however, which explains a lot of human behaviour, including my own in this case (and also helps us see that major social status-inequities, like the caste system and slavery and extreme poverty and racial oppression, are so fucked up and execrable (experiencing suffering and having no-one care about it is the absolute worst thing that can happen to a human, leading to unbearable distress unless the person develops the extremely hard-to-acquire Stoicist ability to largely ignore the perceptions of others which, in normal society, is a trait indicative of psychopathic derangement)).

Ok, onto Extract 10, and happier thoughts (this extract isn't even about suffering, and it's not very bleak at all!).

Extract 10: The Experience Machine

I think it was in 2004 that my dad finally agreed to buy a Playstation 2. This was definitely one of the happiest moments of my life. Knowing that we were going to walk out hauling a big Playstation 2 box, to stand in EB Games and peruse the shelves for games was just super exciting – the kind of excitement that adults can only attain by means of mind-altering substances. Bolstering the feelings of jubilation was my awareness that my dad himself was joining in, browsing for a car game that he could play with us. The more we explored the store, the more delirious I became. Although Grand Theft Auto titles were off-limits – along with some other, exciting looking titles – there was still a plethora of other treasures, and choosing just a couple of them was incredibly hard. I can’t really remember how many games we bought on this first visit, though I know that dad’s choice was a fast-paced game called Burnout 3, and I think I got Fifa 2003 and possibly Jak II during that first visit (and maybe Miranda persuaded dad to get us a Singstar set during that first visit, too), and I think we also picked up Gran Turismo 4 (again because of dad).  
The one game the three of us played together (two at a time) very often – perhaps including that very afternoon after the excursion to EB Games – was Burnout 3. The controls for this game were very easy so my dad had no problem, and he enjoyed the game as much as we did (a very pleasant surprise for me and my sister). It was a ridiculously fun driving simulator for young kids because of the absurd drifting, the boosters and the fact that you could just smash cars into oblivion with total physical and legal impunity – in fact, with a reward (a charge-up of the ‘boost’). Not much more to say. A great game.
Fifa 2003 was a game that only I played (I think my dad tried to play it a couple of times soon after we got it, but he found the controls too complicated and didn’t enjoy it). It had a wonderful introduction that remains vivid in my memory due to the hundreds of times I watched it. I would love to describe it but I don’t have to, because you can watch it yourself if you so choose: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UhhMOe0Nys. As for the game itself, well… Even though, even at the time, I was very aware that the game had major flaws – often horrifically incongruent commentary (a remarkable diving save would be described as a save so simple that the keeper could have done it while reading the newspaper, a spectacular goal would be described as a tap-in and vice versa), awful graphics and animations (utterly unrealistic shooting animations), and atrocious AI, undifferentiated in playing style by team (as it still essentially was in all the subsequent FIFA instalments until maybe FIFA 16 or FIFA 17) – I seemed to derive an immense amount of pleasure from playing it. This was before the invention of Career Mode, so I think that the game had little more than an ‘exhibition match’ mode and perhaps several different preset tournaments to choose from (and it probably gave you the ability to create your own tournament, though I can’t claim this with any certainty). Anyhow, what I remember doing almost every time I put the game into the Playstation was selecting an Exhibition Match on Amateur difficulty, playing with Manchester United against some other team chosen without too much concern (perhaps randomly chosen, I can’t recall). I’m not sure if I chose to play with Manchester United every time because they were the best team in the game or what; they were probably the best team in the Premier League (Scholes, Giggs, Beckham, Ferdinand…). Because I always played on Amateur difficulty, facing defences so absurdly useless that they would literally part as you approached, I would always win these games by a margin of 8+ goals, often achieving scorelines like 14-0. For some reason, I remember that my favourite thing to do (at least for a certain period that sticks in my mind) was score most of my goals with the centre back Laurent Blanc. I would give him the ball and then just run with him, sprint held down even as he ran out of stamina and could sprint no longer, from the back of the field to the front before finally getting into the box and smashing the ball into the back of the net (in hindsight, it seems like the relative shooting statistics made no difference in FIFA 2003 – at least on Amateur – because whilst I’m sure I did sometimes miss, I don’t remember usually having any great problem scoring with Blanc). I really ended up taking a liking to Blanc, even though he was a nobody to me when I had started playing the game. I suspect that David Beckham was my overall favourite though. I also remember scoring loads of goals with him.
If I’m not confusing FIFA 2003 with later instalments that I got for the PS2 (they were still making FIFA games for the PS2 until at least FIFA 11, and I think I got my mum to buy FIFA 09, FIFA 10 and FIFA 11 for the PS2 (at roughly yearly intervals) even though there was essentially no updating of the fundamental gameplay or career mode system for the PS2 over these post-PS3 years), every time I went two goals up, a pop-up box would appear on the screen saying something like “You appear to be very comfortable at this difficulty setting. Are you sure you don’t want to try Semi-Pro?” So fucking irritating.
The really shocking thing to me about all this looking back is just the fact that I was able to wring so much pleasure out of such a highly repetitive experience. I recall that my dad would often get annoyed at how long I would spend playing this game on Saturdays and Sundays, since it was at the expense of my reading (I was only allowed to play on weekends but I don’t think I really read much on weeknights either). At one point he instituted a regime where I could only use the Playstation once I had done at least half an hour of reading. For some reason, I have vivid memories of one particular weekend, maybe in year 3, where this rule was in force – perhaps it was the very weekend where he first had this idea. I think it was a Sunday, fairly early in the morning, when I asked him if I could play the Playstation. Every time this happened, I think I did the asking in a very cutesy kind of way, barely suppressing my effervescent excitement but with a strong awareness that my dad would be reluctant to grant me approval (and actually I also remember often feeling a low-level guilt that I wasn’t doing as much reading as he was at my age, even if I was a much better reader than everyone in my year bar M and K). In my specific memory, I think he might have first responded with a reluctant “Yes” (replete with a heavy sigh), before suddenly changing his mind and saying “Only after you read a book for half an hour”. I think I didn’t mind this proposal all that much, since at that time I seem to have had an unfinished Horrible Histories book to get through and the thought of spending half an hour reading this was not at all repugnant to me. (I can’t remember which Horrible Histories book it was. Incidentally, I think I read every Horrible Histories book ever published (I missed one or two at most) and I have kept them all on my bookshelf in my room at the family home (where I am right now, on 3 December 2017, having moved back to the nest temporarily (I hope) after eviction from my sharehouse in Forest Lodge).)   Nevertheless, I recall that this half an hour was spent in a state of jittery anticipation with very regular glances at the clock, which impaired my concentration on the material. When the half-hour had finally elapsed, I raced to find my dad (who may well have been mowing the lawn – he was probably in the garden at any rate, as that’s what he typically spent his Sundays in that era), and asked him if I could play Playstation now, now that I had met the requirement laid down. I seem to recall that he tried to push me to just read a bit longer – but I know that he did honour the agreement by reluctantly granting me permission. As a man of honour, and a lawyer, what other option did he have?
I have spent literally thousands of hours playing FIFA games. Have they been well-spent? I don’t know. Frankly, I doubt it. They have no effect upon the brain but stupefaction. But it’s fun to squander away an entire day managing a major team, making massive transfer deals until you have the best team in the world… and then getting super frustrated when some bullshit goes down in your games, like when you hit the post four trillion times and then in the last minute the AI team scores some immensely hacky or fluky goal… Come to think of it, the largest impact FIFA games have had on me is installing in my brain hundreds of memories of anger and frustration.
One more FIFA memory. I remember that in 2007 and 2008, I started to fill up my memory cards with recordings of the highlights of the goals of which I was most proud, including ‘skill goals’ and long shots, scored mainly by Fernando Torres on my Manchester City career mode (I chose Manchester City because they had an absurdly large transfer budget and I could purchase the best players in the world for my 4-1-2-1-2 formation (I think this was FIFA 07… don’t quote me)). I felt sort of as if recording some of my ‘skill goals’ was a ‘bad-faith’ move, because I never really bothered to learn how to use the rightstick to do tricks systematically. I would instead basically just randomly jerk it about when I wanted to try to get passed a defender in a fancy way and hope for the best (I always hoped that the player would pull off the rainbow flick). It helped that I always played on Semi-Pro difficulty at that stage, which was generally pretty easy (I didn’t like losing, or even drawing (not very much at any rate), and I was bad at defending). Nevertheless, I recall that I was so proud of my best goals that, when I invited my friend M. G. over in year 5 or year 6, I spent like half an hour going through my memory card, playing the highlights clips. I knew I was being a bit of a dick, but I guess I hoped he’d be impressed. What a total piece of shit I was.
Jak II was another game that only I played. It was an astonishingly good game from which I derived a huge number of hours of enjoyment. Moving through the main storyline, unlocking increasingly powerful weapons and vehicles, and exploring the largely open world in between quests, was amazingly enjoyable. It was probably the first game which came to utterly dominate my thoughts even when I was not playing – oh how I would drool to think of unlocking that next weapon, of being able to smite my enemies without fear or intimidation. I had endless fantasies of being Jak, running through the world with my pal Dexter and kicking monsters to death. I also had at least one memorable dream set inside the world. Unfortunately, I did find the game extremely hard, and I believe that I never managed to finish it. My Newcastle cousin A (older than me by a year, with a sister C who was younger than me by a year and a half) also played this game, along with his friends, and I remember I was embarrassed and gobsmacked to discover that he’d finished it four times (ok, maybe this was Jak III he was talking about, which I’ll get to in one second – my memory isn’t entirely solid).
Jak III was almost as good as Jak II. I think I remember being disappointed that it was less open world (?) (this might be wrong, though I know that there was something about it that was inferior to Jak II), but it was similarly sexy in terms of the upgrade system and the super engaging main questline. I also did not finish it. I think the part I got stuck on, like 70% through the game, was a platforming section in a Lara-Croft-type gauntlet, where you had to swing between periodically electrified monkey bars suspended over a void. I spent hours, maybe more than ten hours, trying to beat this part, but I never could (boy have I always been shite at playing video games). Many years ago, I would have had a vast amount to say about both these games. In a way, I am relieved that I have forgotten so much, because I do not have the will to write a vast amount about them. It is the case that a cluster of mental images come to me when I think of these games, but I do not wish to describe these because it would weary me. All I will say is that HOVERBOARDING WAS THE COOLEST SHIT EVER HOLY SHIT.
Another game which only I played, and at which I was even more atrocious, was Medal of Honour: Pacific Assault. This game came into my life possibly between Jak II and Jak III (I have very little confidence in that statement though). I played on the easiest difficulty setting but the game still scared the shit out of me once I got past the first (amazing and fairly easy) Pearl Harbour mission.  This first mission was both easier and less scary than the subsequent ones because the main thing you did, once you escaped your room in the unstable, trembling sub and headed out onto deck into a magnificent display of cacophonous carnage, was shoot down Japanese planes (as opposed to engaging enemies in direct combat). I must have played this mission a ridiculous number of times over the years, because I have incredibly strong and deeply ingrained memories of it, including of the cut scenes and the music. I found the whole thing really quite emotionally powerful. If you want to get a sense of why, please go and look it up on Youtube. Art!
As implied above, the later missions required one to actually confront enemies directly and shoot them. This was scary as fuck to me, and super hard. I hated the bit in the third mission, set somewhere in France, where you had to wander through a town full of Jerries and clear out buildings containing either one or two Germans, desperately trying to avoid getting killed before picking up a health pack. I fucking sucked so hard at this bit. I obviously can’t recall how many tries it took me to finally get passed this bit, but I suspect it was a fair few. What made matters worse is that when I had finally cleared out all the Germans from the town, I had no idea what to do next… And it was only like four years later that I found out (something to do with jumping over some rubble). Yes, that’s right, I never got passed the third mission… Not an FPS natural.
There are two other games that only I played worthy of mention. The first is the Lord of the Rings: Two Towers game, and the second is Ratchet: Gladiator (my first and only game in the Ratchet and Clank series, a fact which I regretted immensely). I believe the former of these comes much earlier in our story. It was a fucking amazingly awesome game that I think a lot of PS2 players have really fond memories of. I had a second-hand copy of it (just as I had a second-copy of Jak II, I think), but by the time I had finally abandoned playing it, it probably could not be passed on once more. I do recall that the game had issues, of course. One issue was that, though you could always choose to play a mission with either Legolas, Aragorn or Gimli, Gimli was absolutely atrocious compared to the others and only a criminally insane person would choose to play with him. A major issue with the design of the game was that the characters levelled up separately, and you upgraded their powers and unlocked combo moves for each character separately, meaning that, if you neglected playing a character for several missions in a row, using them again would become really difficult. One benefited from total specialisation for this reason, but I always wanted to share the love between Aragorn and Legolas. My desire to share the love may explain why I possibly never even finished the final Helm’s Deep insane battle (there was this one room with a gate which you had to defend jam-packed with orcs that was super fucking hard for me to complete, and there weren’t enough health potions (again, this was on the Easy difficulty setting, because I always played on the Easy difficulty setting because I was terrible at video games)). I do remember that I did keep getting stuck throughout this game because I couldn’t figure out what strategy to use to defeat the boss or unique enemy-type that I needed to defeat (e.g. the final task of Stage Five (a throwback to the first film) was killing Lurtz, which became super easy once you worked out what you needed to do (induce him via clever movement to slam his massive sword into the statues and thereby get stuck), but was impossible if you hadn’t recognised this, and in like the third mission you had to defeat this octopus creature by destroying all its tentacles). This may have been the first game where I was pushed to search online for solutions to my problems.
Ratchet: Gladiator was ridiculously fun, although the more you progressed through the game and unlocked the more powerful weapons, the more OP your character game, such that even the final arena battles weren’t that difficult. I do remember playing it quite a lot though. Even though the game came out in 2005, I think I might even have been playing it in 2009. This was a game that made me feel like I was good at FPSs, because there were load of weapons with massive splash or room-wide damage that obviated the need for aiming skill. I enjoyed this feeling.
As noted parenthetically before, I can’t recall if we picked up the Singstar set on that wonderful, ceremonial journey to EB Games in (I think) 2004. If not, I think we did pick it up not too long after we got the PS2. I can’t recall if we simultaneously picked up the Singstar Pop and Singstar Eighties expansion packs. I know we used these for many years but we probably didn’t get them all together, since my dad was very reluctant to spend a lot of money on these frivolous, hedonistic goods. (Let us ignore the troubling and regularly re-rearing fact that my past is a murky and scummy brown pond, adorned with twisted and tangled macrophytes.)
Whilst Singstar was more my sister’s thing, at least publicly, I actually derived a huge amount of pleasure out of it myself and sometimes even played it alone (I think I usually tried to keep this a secret but eventually my sister found out and maybe at that point I gave up the ruse). I don’t think my sister ever played Singstar alone, since she regularly invited friends over to play it (and do other girly things, obviously), and, if she didn’t have a friend over, I would invariably be available to play it with her. I was not a great singer; generally, my sister would achieve higher scores than me. I did gradually get better at playing Singstar, however (I mean, I should clarify that the pitch-perception system that we were relying on was by no means perfect (we noticed that we could good marks with screaming on some song or other), but it did give you a fairly good sense of how well you could hold onto a melody and stay in tune). I have loads of evidence to think that I was born with a fairly poor, or at least average, ‘ear’, which I inherited from my mother. My mum is one of these people who doesn’t even realise when she is singing in a different key from the song she is trying to sing along to (that is, she’s not tone-deaf but she’s close to it), and she is not obsessed with music like my dad and I are, despite years of conditioning from my dad. My ‘ear’ is now surely above average (I am supremely confident I would score above average in an interval perception test, although that would not constitute excellent evidence since those are probably biased in favour of people who understand musical notation and the conceptual apparatus of ‘semitones’ and ‘tones’), and I am now one of those people for whom music is a major passion and wellspring of pleasure, uplift, ‘transcendence’, ‘transfiguration’ and ‘edification’, with favourite composers/artists representing most genres under the sun. This level of musicality and fine listening sense I was able to achieve, I think, only because of years of musical training, including doing musicianship exams and the like. Even then, I was still one of those people, even in my final year of high school, who struggled to hear if he was in tune in concert band. It’s a brain thing. I certainly don’t have perfect pitch (when I hear a note, I can’t tell you what note it is (though I never really practised that particular skill much and I have no doubt that I could improve my capacity at that task quite significantly with training)).
Being very competitive (even when it came to a girly activity like Singstar which I was not meant to be engaging in alone), I remember that I decided to try to at least best some of the high scores that Miranda or her friends had achieved, recorded on one or other of the memory cards we kept for yonks. I definitely had specialist songs on Singstar. I was utterly appalling at some songs, and got pretty hot scores at others. I remember that the sex of the singer seemed to be mostly or entirely irrelevant to this. One of the songs by a male singer that I remember wanting to get good at was “Bohemian Like You” by The Dandy Warhols from the Singstar Pop collection. I really liked the song, and my dad also approved of the song, which made me like it more. I can’t remember if this became my absolute best song (“I Believe in a Thing Called Love” by The Darkness was a major family favourite (The Darkness turned out to be a terrible band, when we bought their album)), but I think it was one of the ones I trained to the level that I beat the recorded high score. I have a deep voice now, and I think I had a fairly deep (croaky) voice for a child, though I probably still didn’t sing this song in the original octave… I assume. I recall that I did enjoy trying to sing in a deep voice.
The active process of recollecting my experiences with Singstar that allowed for the writing of the above also helped dredge up some of my memories with Eyetoy. Eyetoy was this amazing Playstation-augmentation system which we picked up later than Singstar but from which I probably derived more joy than Singstar. To use the Eyetoy system, you put this little grey camera on top of your TV (plugging in the RCA connector jacks to the back of your TV), then inserted the Eyetoy disc (or one of the later expansion packs (similar to Singstar in this way)) in your PS2, and at once began to enjoy the experience of playing a Wii (without a special plastic ‘nunchuck’), moving your body about in accordance with the goals of the game and watching these movements become actions in a cartoon world. Playing Eyetoy was just ridiculously enjoyable. I think I enjoyed the sports games the most. I do remember learning from my younger cousin C that you could do super well in the base-running component of the Baseball activity found in one of the Eyetoy sets (possibly the original, or possibly some ‘sports’-themed expansion) by simply running up to the camera and waving your hand directly in front of it…. But hey, no technology is perfect. And, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think this massive bug in the gameplay experience bothered me at all; I was just pleased to have been shown an exploit that I could use in both that particular activity, and others, to get high scores. Also I recall that I could consistently beat my family in some running activity or other by just rolling my arms over madly and jumping up and down, rather than actually making running motions. I fucking hacked that game.
 The Buzz PS2-augmentation-system was the last augmentation-system we ever picked up (boy did I lobby hard for Guitar Hero when that came out, but without any success). The Buzz system did not quite provide me or my family with quite the persistent strength of gratification that these other systems supplied us, but it was cool nonetheless. I liked doing the quizzes because I have always been obsessed with trivia and ‘facts’… and learning. I am a minor trivia freak, with a hugely diverse knowledge-base (although I’m not sure my speed of recall, even on my areas of strength, is rapid enough that I could ever become, say, a star of University Challenge (I certainly do not have a brain like that of Gail Trimble, or my friend T, though such people are extreme neuro-atypicals, and I suspect there is no aspect of my cognitive-functioning that is extremely atypical, even if there is plenty that is very atypical)). Certainly, in primary school, I remember that my friends had absolutely nothing on me in terms of knowledge of history, biology, botany, geography, politics and sport, even if my own knowledge within these domains was, by adult standards, extremely paltry in itself (e.g. a good knowledge of geography was knowing the names of a handful of African countries, a handful of US states, a handful of South American countries, being able to roughly sort European countries into Western and Eastern Europe, knowing the difference between the Tropic of Cancer and Capricorn, and knowing where Cape York and the Great Australian Bight are). I think the explanation for this skill has to do more with what I enjoy doing and what I choose to pay attention to in my environment, than my brain’s retentive capacities. I know that as a child I was more interested than my peers in reading non-fiction, and I also am almost certain that I was much more engaged by the intellectual discussions of adults on the radio than my peers were (I enjoyed listening to the radio programs that my parents listened to from an age that was probably highly ‘precocious’ (this ranged from programs on dating and sex to gardening and everything in between)).
Anyhow, the funny thing is that I think I (and my sister) ended up playing a lot more of non-knowledge-based Buzz! Junior than we ever did of the original Buzz trivia games. I won’t describe Buzz! Junior because I can’t be fucked.
The Buzz system was particularly useful on account of the fact that four people could join in on a Buzz activity at the same time and the system came with four controllers by default. This meant that it was particularly good to bring out when family friends came over, with their kids…
Which brings me to the more specific topic of my experiences with the Playstation 2 on our annual beach holidays down the South Coast. I think I will talk in general about the annual family holidays to the town of South Durras (a peaceful town with a beautiful, unpatrolled (fairly good-for-surfing) beach 20 minutes from the bogan inferno known as Bateman’s Bay) in a separate extract; for now, I will just discuss the significance of the Playstation 2 within this experience.
And mainly what I have to say is that, because our family always travelled down to this town to rent houses there with two other families with kids, having Singstar was awesome as a party game… Also the board game Balderdash, but this is not the occasion for discussing that wonderful game and the countless memories I have of playing it.  
Of all the artefacts I have possessed in my life, the Playstation 2 was surely the most important. God I wish there was some way of making this extract seem significant in some way, but there is not. (I am dealing with my experiences with computer gaming within the year-structured extracts, rather than giving it its own, and this seems to make more sense.)
The final thing I will note is that I pushed so hard for my dad to buy me a Playstation 3 or Xbox 360 when they came out, but he never did. I salute him for this, in hindsight.

The Playstation is, in fact, the devil’s work. Gaming is a mind-killer. Immersive games parasitise the brain, totally consuming one’s every waking thought. They take away all time to read and learn. I hate gaming and gaming culture.