with some general state-of-the-world rambling…
I live on the internet.
That's not really hyperbole; I have literally no interaction with anyone outside the glowy boxes that sit on my desk. My friends from high school all left the cities after graduation some seven years ago, and while I kept up with the voyeurism of Facebook for a while, it was clear they'd forgotten me. My family, well, they deserve a blog post to themselves on the day after I move away. And other than the occasional cashier or waiter, that's the sum total of meatspace interaction I get.
And that's why I have Bronystate. Online I'm quite a different person, despite my best attempts at bringing that side of me into reality. Since stumbling across their stream in October 2011, I haven't left for more than a day or two, and even then only because something physically prevented me from getting access to my IRC client, like being hospitalized. Even then, my phone let me check in. In many ways, I've given myself up to the site, poured dozens of hours and many a night of lost sleep into projects for them, and generally not done much of anything creatively that didn't tie back to Bronystate somehow.
It probably isn't healthy. I had bad enough social anxiety exiting high school without compounding it by becoming distanced from physical people thereafter. Being trans comprises a monumental level of internal stress in even the most basic interactions with people, for fear that both they find out and put me in danger, but also that they don't find out and so walk away with the opposite impression of me than I want them to have. When the stress of family, the news, other people, and my own fractured brain get too much, I retreat, and Bronystate is the one place I can usually assume to be safe. For that reason, and not just because I'm one of three people with the capability to ensure it, I am heavily invested in the continued wellbeing of Bronystate.
Our story begins with the decision on the part of 2011 Bronystate staff to take the site from the loose HTML files it was built on to a Wordpress-based "real site", with all the fancy amenities a standard CMS would bring. Only problem was, no one on the staff then knew how to do it, or weren't willing, or were lost in the labyrinthine arguing that passes for decision-making on staff.
In any event, they came to me in January 2012 to ask if I would take on the project of creating "Bronystate 2.0", an all-new experience on top of Wordpress. Saturn, our present hostmaster, was contracted too, although he had a lot more real world stuff to do than I, and so had much less time to dedicate. Naturally, I had all the time in the world, and so dove into making things work. Learning how to write plugins that hooked into Wordpress took a couple days, followed by hammering out an interface for us to make a pretty record of all the Movie Night showings, and more than a little back and forth on design decisions the staff leaders wanted out of the new project. We were going to get a new theater setup, I was told, where one could drag the boxes for the stream and chatroom around the page, sensible interface design be damned.
Then came the night of doing the cutover from the old site to the new. No theater code. The staff member responsible for writing it had been editing it live on someone else's server, and that someone else had formatted. There were no backups. Users were expecting a new site in a few hours.
So came the embed switcher, one of my better designs over the years, using an
iframe within an
iframe to hold the stream player, that could withstand not
being cached, and would be written to by a Wordpress plugin to change streams.
The layout of our theaters was finished just barely in time for the scheduled
cutover – even though staff were already stalling on stream and I could have
had all the time in the world – and the functional component of the switcher
itself was completed in one night the following week, with some minor tweaks and
patches in the following year. It drove home how bad Wordpress was a choice for
our site, though, as we hardly used anything beyond basic news posts and the
switcher's code. At one time, we had three levels of caching between the base
PHP files and what showed up on user browsers, and even that was often barely
enough to survive the spikes of traffic brought on by episode streams.
But survive it did. For three and a half years, Bronystate 2.0 stood up to many an attack, and the tens of thousands of viewers that have come and gone in the brony fandom's lifetime. Unfortunately, it was maintained by just three people: myself, Saturn, and Phase, our master of understanding caching. Of us, over the course of server migrations, two had and understood the method of managing the actual files on the server, and neither were me. As for the other twenty staff members, the less they had to deal with anything resembling code, the happier they were.
And so Wordpress got out of date.
Which brings me to our actual story, that of the design, construction, and deployment of Bronystate 3.0 in the wake of Wordpress finally getting exploited. A frantic call from Saturn late one Saturday night, following an episode stream, that the server was compromised and would be down until a backup could be blown out. That it wasn't known how much, if anything, was exposed, despite the attack likely granting root.
I'd grumbled since late 2012 that we needed to drop Wordpress in favor of something much simpler that everyone on staff could understand, but the massive stress such a project would entail was too much for me to do alone again. I had maintained that I would not undertake designing a Bronystate 3.0 unless I were paid for the job.
And now the opportunity arose that I would either do it for free, or the site would be history.
And so I did. Building on the lessons learned from This Vortal Cord, I set out to design us a new, more streamlined site. Better interface for both the users and the staff behind the scenes. Gone would be seven different pages all showing the same stream and, with the sole exception of the hour of a new episode, the same chatroom – in its place a single homepage with the stream and chat front and center. Gone would be a maze of confusing menus standing between a staff member and the method of setting which stream would be visible – in its place a return to the pre-2.0 method of a file with all the necessary details. It would be simple, cleanly designed, unambiguous.
Most important of all, owing to the circumstances, I had total authority. I wouldn't have to pass every decision by a committee for approval; I could make a change, describe in detail the ease of adapting to the change, and trust that I'm good enough at design that there would be little to no objections.
It took a day to get a basic front page design together, which thankfully also represented 90% of all the styling the site would need. Implementing the other major frontend features of the site, like buttons for controlling the embeds, took up the rest of the first week, including one twelve-hour marathon of waging war against CSS transitions. The second week was devoted to implementing backend features, like news posts and the new embed switcher – no longer writing an iframe-ception scheme, but rather writing the embedded source directly into the page. And on the seventh day did Shizuka rest, for all that remained was some content to fill in about the staff, and the matter of deploying changes smoothly to the live server…
And there my miracle working began to crumble. Like the many projects before it, Bronystate 3.0 benefitted from my undivided attention right up until I needed to involve someone else in the process. At first, it was getting a hold of Saturn long enough to establish the deployment chain we would use: site code is held in a git repo, is pushed to Github as a canonical copy, that gets pulled by Travis CI, built, and rsync'd down to the live server to replace or update what was already there. With everything being static HTML, we could eliminate just about all the caching between the raw pages and the user.
But it took until the end of that first week for Saturn to be available to put rsync on the server in the first place, leading to another day of me debugging the configuration files to make Travis build and deploy correctly, without exposing silly things like the private key it used to do so. My many questions about little details of the site design seemed to fall on deaf ears, as most staff simply aren't around as often as I am – they have lives, and real jobs. And even after all the major design work was complete, and all that remained was to get everyone's input on their own spot in the new credits pages, it's a fight to get it done.
In short, I work alone.
It's not fun, and not remotely as rewarding as my introvert brain tells me it should be. Having that utter creative authority over the site design meant I got things done fast, at the expense of preemptively shooting down input from anyone else. "You need this thing here," someone would say. "I know, it's on my list," I would reply, showing the long obsessive task list I had drafted up. I ended up migrating most of the list to issues on Github, to invite comments and maybe some assistance, and any ideas anyone had for the site, non-staff included.
As of this post, the remaining major issues to tackle are the construction of an "About Us" page with updated staff details, and a "Help" page to guide our less than technically savvy users on the use of IRC. And it feels like pulling teeth trying to contact staff members to point them at the file to update, let alone getting them to actually do it. It's new and different, and so there's a lot of resistance, and I get that. But there's only so much I can do to make it simple.
And that brings me to the ultimate reason I decided to write at length about this whole process: that sense that I'm taken for granted, and the sickening, almost egotistical feeling that I'm the only one able to do work for the site.
I don't do Linux anymore. My server died months ago and I don't have the ability to fix it, and so I'm without a Linux terminal in my day-to-day. I'm years out of date on modern web practices – I only learned about Docker the week after wrapping up 3.0 – and even simpler things like navigating properly-hardened Linux servers completely escape me. I already spent most of my time on Hikari googling what it was I was trying to do, doing it, and then leaving it to sit for all time. Having to do that again, but on a system I didn't have physical control over, just put me off. Doesn't matter we have backups in case I royally screwed something up; Saturn has too many obligations to respond fast enough to undo any mistake I might make. So I came up with the push-build-deploy chain, with suggestions from Phase, so that all the staff, once given write access to the repo, could easily push any changes they wanted right to the site.
But I'm still the only one using it. It leaves me wrongly feeling like everyone else thinks "oh we got badly hacked? Oh well, Shizuka will fix it."
And generally I do, but Bronystate became what I fear any job in computers would inevitably lead me to: fighting fires. Start with the small fires no one else can put out, like a spreadsheet record of the movies shown, or taking over the failed project to redesign the site, and slowly but surely your entire purpose is to fight fires all the time. I feel like my attempts at bringing everyone into the process of keeping the actual site running, not just the chat everyone works on, are ultimately futile.
It's a little ironic, I suppose. Violet told me once, back in 2012 before she started going missing for years at a time, that she felt she had nothing left to contribute to the site. I'd busted my ass multiple times before 2012 was half over to singlehandedly produce Bronystate 2.0, a new intermission video, and what was meant to be an annual award show video (which did see a second year), but I immensely valued her weekly radio streams, where she would play or remix or sing along with selections from her vast music library. But she felt she couldn't add much anymore, and so was starting to drift away. A lot of the mods we've bled off over the years have expressed the same concern, nothing to contribute.
And here I am feeling like I contribute too much for my own good.
As of this post, I'm still unemployed, living at home. I'm trans, so my home life isn't exactly ideal. I've got a bit under six months to get employed, or else go to war with the American healthcare system to secure a continued supply of insulin for my type 1 diabetes, and that's without entertaining the agonizing need for hormone replacement therapy. I'm told again and again that I should go work in tech, but I can't seem to convey how Bronystate has taught me I want to stay far away from the field.
Yes I can design, build, and deploy things lightning fast, but it comes at the cost of sleep, hygeine, nutrition, and my overall health. When I find that flow, and enough energy to get something done, I can't stop until it is done. And the moment I do stop, whether by completing the project or hitting a wall big enough to stall my momentum for a day, that's it. I'm done spending energy for weeks, if not months. My candle burns twice as bright, because a dim candle doesn't get things done.
I stubbornly maintained for three years that I would not do Bronystate 3.0 unless I were paid for it. And now that I have done it, and have a fundraiser set up to try and help me get things I need that I can't get otherwise, I can't bring myself to advertise it much. It feels like begging, and trying to take advantage of the generosity of what friends I have. What I do is irrelevant, the fact is I don't have a paying job, and so am not entitled to any compensation for my work… but it would sure be nice to have.
So here I am. If you feel like my contributions to humanity warrant a little more than a thank you, I invite you to donate, or to share with someone who wants to, or to ignore it entirely. If I'm going to get out there into meatspace and contribute real things to the world, I need help getting there from where I am now.
Thanks for reading, many thanks if you donate, and have some happy holidays.
Stay tuned to Bronystate, where the fun only stops when Shizuka runs out of juice.