: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comTOKYO — The raging popularity of Street Fighter IV in Japan meant plenty of Chun-Lis and Kens in "cosplay alley" at this year's Tokyo Game Show.
Many people dressed up as the characters, which are mainstays of Capcom's fighting-game franchise, while hundreds of others donned costumes inspired by videogames and anime series, both mainstream and obscure.
Cosplay short for "costume play" is a popular pastime for anime and gamer geeks in Japan, who express their fandom by dressing in character. Some spend hundreds, even thousands, of dollars perfecting their outfits, but the more serious cosplayers custom-make their own costumes using fabric, a sewing machine and glue. Here are some of our favorites.
Left: Photographers on cosplay alley are required to stand single-file in front of the character they want to shoot; the cosplayers pose for each one separately until the photographer is satisfied.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comUnlike their U.S. counterparts, Japanese cosplayers often hide their true identities, providing fans with "cosplay" business cards and alternate cellphone numbers.
In Tokyo Game Show's cosplay alley, strict signs forbid onlookers from asking the costumed individuals questions that will invade their privacy.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comCosplayers are great at staying in character for the photo shoots, but when you try to talk to them afterward, they revert back to being polite, courteous humans.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comA cosplayer dressed as Kirin Soubi from Capcom's action role-playing game Monster Hunter Portable 2nd G shows off her muscles.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comA kigurumi version of Chun-Li from Street Fighter IV. Hard-core cosplayers not only dress up as their chosen character, but wear masks or, in this case, bobbleheads.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comThe Prince from puzzle-action game Katamari Damacy stands in a corner, rolling his ball around and posing for pics.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comOne of the more popular cosplayers on the alley poses for a fan. Young women engage in cosplay for three main reasons: to fulfill transformation fantasies, as a way to express love for a character and because they want to make their own outfits.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comThis girl is dressed as Ayane, the silent but merciless assassin from the Dead or Alive videogame series.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comKen from Street Fighter IV is about to punch me in the face.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comThese two women are dressed as royalty from The Scarlet Moon Empire in Konami's RPG Gensou Suikoden V.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comCosplayers can't ever show that they are tired. If they did, fans might do what they would do if an in-game fave grew weary — trade them in for a fresh new character.
Cosplayers often carry around a small bottle of Febreze in order to stay fresh throughout the day.
: Photo: Lisa Katayama/Wired.comThese three are dressed as shinigami, or death gods, from Square Enix's The World Ends With You.
Ever since OPEC vexed Jimmy Carter into wearing a cardigan, telecommuting has been touted as a fix for what ails the US office worker — the agony and expense of commuting, the drudgery of cubicles, the shortage of family time. Long before the advent of the Web, evangelists were confident that cordless phones and faxes had already made the office a relic. "Working from home holds the promise of a new American dream," Paul and Sarah Edwards gushed in their 1985 manifesto, Working From Home, in which they extolled the virtues of commuting from breakfast nook to den.
Two decades later, however, most workers still trudge to the office. Though a third of the more than 150 million working Americans telecommute at least occasionally, most do so just a few days each month. Only 40 percent of companies permit any sort of work-at-home arrangement, which means most insist on full-time attendance. According to a 2006 survey by the Telework Exchange, the top fear among resisters is that they'll lose control of their employees, whom they doubtlessly envision frittering away the hours between 9 and 5 playing Minesweeper and munching Cheetos.
Telecommuting's foes couldn't be more misguided. When gasoline costs $4 a gallon, companies shouldn't just be doing all they can to expand telecommuting — they should be scrapping their offices entirely. No, not turning them into toy-filled communal spaces, as advertising titan Chiat/Day infamously did in the early-'90s, but abandoning them outright.
That might sound a bit radical to those who swear by the office's supposed benefits, like camaraderie and face-to-face collaboration. But time and again, studies have shown that telecommuters are every bit as engaged as their cubicle-bound brethren — and happier and more productive to boot. Last year, researchers from Penn State analyzed 46 studies of telecommuting conducted over two decades and covering almost 13,000 employees. Their sweeping inquiry concluded that working from home has "favorable effects on perceived autonomy, work-family conflict, job satisfaction, performance, turnover intent, and stress." The only demonstrable drawback is a slight fraying of the relationships between telecommuters and their colleagues back at headquarters — largely because of jealousy on the part of the latter group. That's the first problem you solve when you kill your office.
Earlier this year, an IDC report from Asia found that 81 percent of managers believe telecommuting improves productivity, up from 61 percent in 2005. The increase is attributable largely to the proliferation of unified communications technologies — tools that connect mobile and remote workers. These include products like LifeSize Express, the first hi-def videoconferencing system priced at less than $5,000, as well as Web-based services like Google Docs and Glance, which let users view a remote colleague's onscreen work in real time (in the case of Glance, with cursor movements and all).
The traditional office, meanwhile, remains a black hole of interruptions, procrastination, and soul-crushing politics. According to Gloria Mark, an informatics professor at UC Irvine, the typical office worker is interrupted or switches tasks every three minutes — hardly enough time to accomplish anything of substance.
True, there is value to getting folks together under one roof, but those gatherings needn't occur every day. Instead of leasing traditional offices — currently averaging around $21.25 per square foot annually, and a quarter of that is typically either vacant or underutilized — companies could join meeting-room cooperatives, which allow firms to assemble when necessary. Given that it costs more than $15,000 per year to provide an employee with 200 square feet of cubicle, the savings would be significant — so great, in fact, that companies would still come out thousands of dollars ahead after springing for workers' broadband and VoIP expenses.
Ditching the office could also provide businesses with a leg up in the scramble to recruit and retain talent. For starters, location would no longer limit a company's employment pool — gifted Kansans wouldn't be forced to uproot their lives for opportunities in, say, California. Also, based on the average American's commute time, driving speed, and vehicle specs — and assuming that gas costs $4 per gallon — a telecommuter would save around $1,200 a year on fuel alone — an instant salary bump, of sorts.
Perhaps you've been an office drone for so long that you can't imagine life without fuzzy, low-slung cubicle walls. Well, given that the typical American house is now over 2,500 square feet — up more than 60 percent since the early '70s — surely you can find room to build your own cube. Add some stale coffee and a buzzing fluorescent light and it will feel just like... well, you know where.
Brendan I. Koerner (brendan_koerner@wired.com) is Wired's Mr. Know-It-All.
Think your kitchen is just a food production/consumption facility? Luddite. Equipped with running water, open flame, and a versatile array of tools and chemicals, it's perfect for testing out ideas and assembling inventions. "If you have an experimental-science attitude," says Patrick Buckley, "the kitchen is your home laboratory." Buckley, an MIT grad and mechanical engineer, along with Lily Binns and a few other co-chefs have compiled their (sometimes) edible experiments into a book called The Hungry Scientist Handbook. Here are a few of our favorite dishes. Bon appè9tit ... and always wear safety goggles.
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Fashioned out of heated sugar and milk, this lip-smacking lingerie will spice up the end of any meal. Further impress your sweetie with a lesson on the Maillard reaction: The carbs in the sugar combine with the amino acids in the protein molecules of the milk to create toasty goodness. The browning on meat, the crust on bread, the roast on coffee — all the result of the Maillard reaction. Smoldering!
Smart Coasters
Contributors Windell Oskay and Lenore Edman devised this solar-powered, heat-sensitive coaster that lights up on contact with hot (red) and cold (blue) libations. Just add methyl ethyl ketone peroxide catalyst (careful, it's explosive) and a can of polyester casting resin to the shopping list for your next cocktail party. No doubt you already own the necessary diodes, solvents, and soldering tools. Tip: Resin is like bacon grease; if you pour it down the sink, it'll clog.
Wonton Origami
A little digital dexterity is all you need to make these attractive, crunchy cranes out of wonton wrappers. You can microwave your flock for a quick-'n'-easy snack, but they'll taste a little bland. For a more satisfying oily goodness, toss them in the deep fryer. Once you've perfected your folding skills, see what other flyers you can make. X-wing wonton, anyone?
Pomegranate Wine
Yeast + sugar = booze. Every self-respecting kitchen chemist should be able to implement this crucial piece of alchemy. (It's also a boon if you ever find yourself in jail — stuff your pockets with Fleischmann's before you're sent up.) This recipe uses antioxidant-rich pomegranates, but pretty much any fruit juice will work. Just don't expect to get soused immediately: Fermentation, distillation, and aging can take a month or more.
Salt and Pepper Scooter
The Hungry Scientist crew eat at a very long table laden with comestibles and, at times, combustibles. It's so lengthy, in fact, that passing the salt and pepper got to be a bit of a chore. To expedite matters, they epoxied the shakers to a modified windup car. Now, instead of passing the salt, the salt passes you!