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In 2017, the American game designer Momo Pixel released the single-player, browser-based game Hair Nah. In this game, you play as Aeva, a Black woman taking trips to locations that include Osaka, Havana, and the Santa Monica Pier. As you move through levels on your journey—taking a taxi ride, traversing airport security, sitting on an airplane—you must slap away increasingly aggressive white hands that reach into the frame to touch your hair. Though Hair Nah taps into the genre of a casual button-mashing game, this interactive experience also explores the topic of microaggressions via unwanted hair touching. If you slap away enough hands on your travels, you reach a screen welcoming you to your destination with the message “YOU WIN!” but the caveat, “The game is over, but this experience isn’t. This is an issue that black women face daily. So a note to those who do it STOP THAT SHIT.”

This paper argues that video games expose the presumptions separating “Asian America” and “Asia” in the traditional senses of isolation, origination, and presumed distance. It does so by focusing on the most “Asiatic” genre of video games today, the North American visual novel, which offers a counterdiscourse to normative modes of play and attempts to offer utopic spaces to reflect upon the “real” genres of race and neo–Cold War geopolitics. Using theories of performance from Dorinne Kondo and others, the author shows how queer indie visual novels are primarily aspirational, in that they build queer, utopic, and seemingly anti-racist worlds through the Asiatic space of the visual novel form. In so doing, they also allow players to explore the Asiatic as a means of repairing the traumas and distances of American imperial cultures. The article analyzes four visual novels to make this argument: three by non-racially-identifying North American designers—Doki Doki Literature Club! (2017) by Dan Salvato, Analogue: A Hate Story (2012) by Christine Love, and Heaven Will Be Mine (2018) by Aevee Bee—and Butterfly Soup (2017), a game by the queer Asian/American designer Brianna Lei. If games make the boundaries of Asia and America irrelevant, visual novels explore this irrelevance through Asiatic irreverence.

This article examines Indigenous video games that critique mainstream environmental politics at the level of mechanics. An analysis of video games’ influences on ecological values requires looking beyond the representational to the mechanical relationships between player and software. As a cultural–computational medium, video games are embedded with ethics of interaction that inflect this representational dimension by requiring that players generate the text as participant. With the recent visibility of Indigenous rights movements, developers have embedded Indigenous cultural protocols in the mechanical interactions (or technical protocols) of gameplay. In the context of critique, their integration produces “critical protocols,” configurations of gamic action that encourage players to evaluate their treatment of real-world environments. Critical protocols emerge between the technical and cultural, where scripts for interaction in algorithmic spaces intervene in affirmative game design and work as an analog beyond the game. Indigenous developers call for new ways of computing and critiquing settler digitality through play. These games aim toward representational as well as computational sovereignty.

Michelle Browder’s “The Mothers of Gynecology” remembers Black women who endured surgeries without anesthesia, or consent.

Speaking to the 'Missing' Player: Subaltern Poetics in Indian Videogames The degree of interactivity and agency of the player-character in videogames is often a moot question in Games Studies discourses (Atkins 2002 , Juul 2004, Salen and Zimmerman 2001). The assumption is that whether illusory or real, agency is an important element that drives the plot of digital games. To assume this, however, is to argue from a position of privilege and some videogames use their in-game mechanics to emphasise this. The assumption of a selfhood by the player while playing a digital game is the precondition to the experience of agency. Such a precondition is hardcoded into the gameplay on the basis of a default notion of empowerment and entitlement. What happens, however, in the case of the character that does not provide this sense of agency or for the game wherein such an experience of selfhood may not be possible? Using a well-worn but very relevant term from Postcolonial discourses, one could ask what happens where the game is about the Subaltern. Considering videogame studies from non-Western and South-South perspectives, such a default assumption of selfhood or agency may be challenged. Elsewhere (Mukherjee 2017), I have cited examples from the Cameroon, Indonesia and India that begin to address this challenge. Here, I wish to take two games from India as my texts for close-reading (or close-play) and show how a different poetics operates; indeed, my primary objective is to enquire into how the videogame as a narrative medium, which is by default apparently premised on agency, functions for the subaltern.

Indigenous peoples and their cultural heritages, their ways of knowing and living, are tied to land. As Mishuana Goeman states,“Land is foundational to people’s cultural practices, and if we define culture as meaning making rather than as differentiation and isolation in a multicultural neoliberal model, thanby thinking through land as a meaning-making process rather than a claimed object, the aspiration of Native people are apparent and clear,” (Goeman, 73).Goeman asserts here that land is not limited to physical space, and that land locates a group of people physically, culturally, spiritually, intellectually,etc. and provides them with both an internal and external locus of understanding for and within broader society. When digital representations of Indigenous peoples are completely removed from any meaningful connection to their land, anerasure of culture occurs. Moreover, the physical removal of Indigenous peoples from the virtual representations of their lands is another form of dispossession and the enactment of digital Manifest Destiny. This paperutilizes a decolonial Indigenous framework to analyze the dispossessions that take place within the digital realm of the video game, why they occur so frequently, and why they are so harmful.

En 2007, le monde du jeu vidéo est secoué par une violente polémique au sujet du jeu vidéo Resident Evil 5. Ce dernier est accusé de faire commerce du racisme, en invitant à se glisser dans la peau d'un américain blanc body-buildé, missionné dans une région africaine anonyme, et tuant des dizaines d'hommes et de femmes noires présentées comme de dangereux zombies infectés du virus T. Depuis, la communauté des joueurs et joueuses de jeux vidéo interpelle régulièrement les créateurs et créatrices des jeux sur les questions du racisme et du sexisme.Dans son ouvrage, Mehdi Derfoufi analyse les rapports de force qui structurent l'industrie du jeu vidéo, dévoilant comment le racisme se niche parfois insidieusement au cœur de scénarios de jeux vidéo à succès. Il nous invite à nous questionner. Quels sont les pays qui pèsent sur les milliards d'euros du marché mondial du jeu vidéo ? Qui sont les game designers et auteurs des jeux ? Comment les représentations racistes sont-elles véhiculées à travers les personnageset les imaginaires vidéoludiques ? L'auteur nous dévoile avec brio les logiques racialisantes à l’œuvre au sein d’un marché économique très concurrentiel où des stéréotypes exotisants servent régulièrement à faire vendre un jeu. Il nous montre aussi comment la division internationale du travail et la hiérarchie économico-politique Nord/Sud pèse sur le marché du jeu vidéo et ralentit l’émergence de nouvelles représentations. Pourtant, de nombreux espoirs, notamment dans les pays du Sud participent au renouvellement de la culture geek : face aux violences racistes, la riposte s’organise.

Hitman 2’s Mumbai mission, just like the film Extraction, looks at the oriental space in a similar ‘diseased’ yellow filter which is akin to the Mexico of Breaking Bad. Here, we have the perfect orientalist reduction of a culture. By digitising Mumbai and creating it into a gamic world, it produces a rather lazily translated and racialised appropriation of this particular South Asian space. The essential orientalist gaze thus reinforces the binary between the ‘I’ and the ‘other’: where the ‘I’ is the foreign Agent 47 and the ‘other’ are the yellow dwellers of Mumbai. The NPCs react to Agent 47 in awe as if a white man is a miracle of nature which they have never seen before. Not only that, but they also interact with themselves in a very essentialist way. The tea shops/kiosks are literally written as 'Chaye Dukan' (which is a direct translation for 'Tea Shop'). Not only does this point at a lack of research but also a lazy design. No matter how inferior a place is, no one names their establishment in a direct translation to their colonial/capitalist overlords. It becomes nothing but a city ‘lost in translation’. In this paper, I will read the Mumbai mission of Hitman 2 as a cultural artefact where the game scape becomes a techno-orientalist commodity. Like any other Literary text which fetishizes the ‘other’, Hitman 2 also becomes such a ‘digital/ludic’ text which manages to define the ‘Indian’ in its own myopic way. The discourse propagated thus reinforces the idea of ‘India’ or the ‘Orient’ as the literal plaything of the West. Thus, I will expand by elaborating on how the creators become a part of the greater orientalized theatricality by indulging in a form of ‘identity tourism’ (Nakamura ’96), where the autonomy of creating a cultural space takes the form of an essentialist fetish. About Samya : Samya Brata Roy (He/Him) is currently in the final semester of his M.A in English Literature from The English and Foreign Languages University in Hyderabad. Mainly his interests lie in and around the modalities of Digital Narratives, which he also tries to create at thepenarchist (wordpress.com). He is associated as a SIG facilitator with DHARTI (dhdharti.in), as a transcriber with The Canterbury Tales Project and as database contributor with Electronic Literature Knowledge Base | ELMCIP. He works in the field of Disability Studies by assisting in research. He is also passionate about teaching and inclusion and pursued it by teaching slum kids.

Este trabajo presenta los resultados de la investigación Imágenes de lo extraordinario: monstruos americanos del siglo XVI, proceso de creación artística desarrollado por los estudiantes del Semillero de Investigación en Artes Visuales (SINAV) del programa de Artes Visuales de la Universidad Nacional Abierta y a Distancia (UNAD) entre 2018 y 2019. Para analizar de manera crítica e histórica la construcción de identidades sobre lo latinoamericano, se tomó como marco de análisis la representación de lo monstruoso en los relatos y las imágenes construidas por los cronistas de Indias en el siglo XVI, los cuales marcaron procesos de marginalización cultural, construcción de subjetividades y dinámicas de poder, y presentaron al habitante americano como una otredad que estaba fuera de los límites de la cultura dominante occidental. Se presentan los postulados teóricos sobre lo monstruoso como marco para el análisis histórico y la creación de obra, con una metodología de trabajo colaborativo y en gran parte virtual. Posteriormente, se exponen algunos resultados de la investigación histórica que dan paso a detallar el proceso de creación de obra que culminó con la exposición de la instalación audiovisual Imágenes de lo extraordinario, así como con una amplia serie de ilustraciones contemporáneas sobre lo monstruoso y un producto digital en formato página web donde se presenta una cartografía de lo monstruoso en América Latina y se recogen las memorias de todo el proyecto. This work presents the results of the research Images of the Extraordinary: American Monsters of the 16th Century, artistic creation process developed by the students of the Research Seedbed in Visual Arts (SINAV, for its initials in Spanish) of the Visual Arts program of Universidad Nacional Abierta y a Distancia (UNAD) between 2018 and 2019. With the objective of analyzing, in a critical and historical way, the construction of identities on Latin American matters, the representation of the monstrous in the stories and images constructed by the chroniclers of the Indies in the 16th century was used as a framework of analysis. These chroniclers marked processes of cultural marginalization, construction of subjectivities and power dynamics, and presented the American inhabitant as an otherness that was outside the limits of the dominant Western culture. The theoretical postulates about the monstrous are presented as a framework for historical analysis and the creation of works, with a collaborative and largely virtual working methodology. Some results of the historical research are then presented, which gives way to detailing the process of creating work that culminated in the exhibition of the audiovisual installation Images of the Extraordinary, as well as a wide range of contemporary illustrations on the monstrous and a digital product in web page format where a cartography of the monstrous in Latin America is presented and the memories of the whole project are collected.

Recent research has started focusing on the representation of history in videogames. Such representation is almost always of mainstream history and usually presented from a Western perspective. Set in a fictitious Himalayan kingdom in South Asia, Ubisoft’s Far Cry 4 is arguably a crucial example of how history is represented using Western and even colonial frameworks and where the narratives that do not emerge from conventional written history are almost always rendered invisible. Using the frameworks of Subaltern Studies and “border-thinking,” this essay attempts to unpack issues of Orientalism and “colonial difference”; it then engages with postcolonial digital humanities and postcolonial game studies to comment on how history is represented in videogames and how the neglected gaps and silences in the game are important in constructing the historiography in videogames. In the process, the essay engages in a debate with current notions of videogame-historiography.

The proliferation of critical and creative post-porn movements, which vindicate the representation of dissident sexualities under a new feminist, queer and transgender perspective, provide tools of analysis to rethink past literary and audiovisual pornographic productions, as well as to reformulate current ones. In this line of intermediate research, between cinema and literature, an approach to the work of Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño is proposed that will allow us to discern whether he can be considered a post-porn author related to the Golden Age of pornographic cinema in the 1970s and 1980s. Two of his stories and a novel will be studied: “Joanna Silvestri”, from which a gender reading will be made that problematizes the role of women within an eminently heteronormative industry, obsessed with representing male ejaculation; “Prefiguración de Lalo Cura”, analyzed under a postcolonial perspective of appropriation of subaltern bodies conceived as geographical territories, and Una novelita lumpen, in the field of porn pedagogy. The resulting findings make it possible to establish that Roberto Bolaño can indeed be considered a post-porn author by translating the narrative proposals of the Golden Age porn films into his own literary project, with a feminist and post-colonial critical intention.

In Slave Revolt on Screen: The Haitian Revolution in Film and Video Games author Alyssa Goldstein Sepinwall analyzes how films and video games from around the world have depicted slave revolt, focusing on the Haitian Revolution (1791–1804). This event, the first successful revolution by enslaved people in modern history, sent shock waves throughout the Atlantic World. Regardless of its historical significance however, this revolution has become less well-known—and appears less often on screen—than most other revolutions; its story, involving enslaved Africans liberating themselves through violence, does not match the suffering-slaves-waiting-for-a-white-hero genre that pervades Hollywood treatments of Black history. Despite Hollywood’s near-silence on this event, some films on the Revolution do exist—from directors in Haiti, the US, France, and elsewhere. Slave Revolt on Screen offers the first-ever comprehensive analysis of Haitian Revolution cinema, including completed films and planned projects that were never made. In addition to studying cinema, this book also breaks ground in examining video games, a pop-culture form long neglected by historians. Sepinwall scrutinizes video game depictions of Haitian slave revolt that appear in games like the Assassin’s Creed series that have reached millions more players than comparable films. In analyzing films and games on the revolution, Slave Revolt on Screen calls attention to the ways that economic legacies of slavery and colonialism warp pop-culture portrayals of the past and leave audiences with distorted understandings.

"Les liens entre l'art contemporain et les questions de colonialité, postcolonialité, et décolonialité sont anciens et multiples. Des artistes occidentaux et non-occidentaux, depuis plusieurs décennies déjà, s'en sont emparés pour produire des œuvres qui témoignent de leurs engagements politiques, sociétaux et esthétiques. Des concepts que les études postcoloniales ont approfondies ou inventées – agency (agentivité), mimicry (mimétisme/simulacre), ou essentialisme stratégique –, en autant d'outils utiles à démêler la complexité des relations coloniales et, au-delà, de toutes les relations de domination, sont ainsi revisités par les artistes. D'autre part, des auteurs, relevant de ces champs d'études qui conservent aujourd'hui toute leur actualité politique et leur pertinence théorique, disent à leur tour l'intérêt qu'ils portent à la création contemporaine. Associant vingt historiens de l'art et chercheurs en littérature, philosophie, droit ou psychanalyse, Postcolonial/Décolonial. La preuve par l'art présente des travaux portant sur des démarches artistiques (Betye Saar, Fred Wilson, Sarkis, Lidwien van de Ven, Voluspa Jarpa, des artistes du collectif Mira au Mexique, Iris Kensmil, Jean Renoir, et bien d'autres), mais aussi sur des propositions institutionnelles (notamment initiées par le Centro de Arte y Comunicación de Buenos Aires, la Biennale de Venise ou le Van Abbemuseum d'Eindhoven), associées en de nouveaux réseaux de solidarités. Une place particulière est réservée aux singularités artistiques, théoriques et juridiques en Amérique latine, lieu d'émergence des théories décoloniales. Sous un angle historiographique et épistémologique, on trouvera ici des analyses des fondements historiques, théoriques et idéologiques du postcolonial dont les théorisations, loin de la saturation conceptuelle dont certains veulent les accuser, concernent particulièrement l'histoire de l'art. "

This multidisciplinary collection probes ways in which emerging and established scholars perceive and theorize decolonization and resistance in their own fields of work, from education to political and social studies, to psychology, medicine, and beyond

The Latinx Research Center's Revista N'oj hosted a round table discussion on Decolonial Aesthetics titled, "Decolonizing Art & Praxis in the Time of Covid-19." The talk included Jesus Barraza, Dr. Guisela Latorre, Dr. Mauricio Barros de Castro, and Dr. Laura E. Pérez. The panel was moderated by Revista N'oj editor, Abraham Ramirez.

In the last decade or so, cinema has revealed itself to be an ideal medium for the transfer and/or remediation of the spoken word as well as stories coming from oral tradition and Indigenous culture. Indeed, cinema is a place of expression which favours cyclical creativity and contributes to the decolonization of stereotyped images propagated by external voices that do not understand the subtleties of languages (real and symbolic) that are anchored in indigenous peoples’ cultural memory. By exploring indigenous cinema as practised by women of diverse nations, this piece demonstrates how cinema can induce the compression and dilation of time, to bring to the audience the fluidity of a story that has been reconfigured according to a new time and carried by spoken words that have chosen to either emancipate themselves from the image or to materialize themselves in it. Furthermore, this article illustrates how a new generation of Indigenous women use cinema to retrace and/or rewrite their personal narrative with the help of autobiographical or collective stories that travel back in time to fill in the blanks left by a fragile memory and to express their will to make peace with a difficult colonial past. Finally, the writings of Lee Maracle (I Am Woman, 1988) and Natasha Kanapé Fontaine (Manifeste Assi, 2014) are being brought forth to show how films such as Suckerfish (Lisa Jackson, 2004) Bithos (Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers, 2015) and Four Faces of the Moon (Amanda Strong, 2016) contribute to the individual and community healing of Indigenous peoples of Canada, through an aesthetic of reconciliation. The exploration of these works, therefore allows us to shed light on and better understand the roles/internal mechanisms of visual autobiographies in the larger context of reconciliation with individual and collective stories/memories.

Résumé livre : "L’intersectionnalité, telle qu’élaborée par les féministes noires dans les années 1980, permet de réfléchir aux rapports de pouvoir dans leur complexe enchevêtrement. Au-delà d’un certain effet de mode, cette éthique est plus que jamais nécessaire pour comprendre le monde, à l’aube d’une décennie marquée par un virus ayant partout exacerbé la violence et les inégalités, et mis en évidence les systèmes de privilèges. Et qu’arrive-t-il lorsque l’on porte ce regard attentif sur les médias ? Les textes rassemblés dans cet ouvrage explorent avec aplomb les questions de l’inclusion et de l’exclusion médiatiques. Que décoder du traitement média réservé au port du hijab dans le sport, aux agressions sexuelles à l’endroit des femmes noires et autochtones, ou encore, de la place de la sourditude et des transidentités dans l’espace public? Un recueil qui amène son lot de réponses éclairantes et douloureuses, une rareté dans le paysage des études culturelles et médiatiques francophones."--Page 4 de la couverture

The visualization of the ways of doing what is sensible in a globalized society is one more form of discipline of sensitivity and its poetics. The border between a colonized sensibility and an insurgent sensibility becomes blurred as the international distribution of the sensible assigns specific ways capable of domesticating the sensibilities that overwhelm it. Those sensitivities not that cannot be captured neither as merchandise, nor as an archive, nor as heritage. The overflow and excess of these sensitivities that have not been caught in the networks of an international art market jeopardize, by their very existence, the categories that aesthetics, as a modern-colonial discipline has produced to conceptualize and codify the sensitivities (isolationism) neutralized their capacities to witness historically subjugated life experiences. In this sense, decolonial stasis retrace the traced path, and one of the ways of retracing is to disarticulate or at least resignify words such as "art", "artist", "work", "production", "aesthetic", or "Poetic", among others.

"This edited collection focuses on "unsettling" Northwest Coast art studies, bringing forward voices that uphold Indigenous priorities, engage with past and ongoing effects of settler colonialism, and advocate for practices for more accountable scholarship. Featuring authors with a variety of perspectives, backgrounds, and methodologies, Unsettling Art Histories offers new insights for the field of Northwest Coast art studies. Key themes include discussions of cultural heritage protections and long-standing defenses of natural resources and territory; re-centering women and the critical role they play in transmitting cultural knowledge across generations through materials, techniques, and creations; reflecting on the decolonization work being undertaken in museums; and examining how artworks function beyond previous scholarly framings as living documents carrying information critical to today's inquiries. Re-examining previous scholarship and questioning current institutional practices by prioritizing information gathered in Native communities, the essays in this volume exemplify various methods of "unsettling" and demonstrate how new methods of research have reshaped scholarship and museum practices."