Academic literature on the topic 'Lost wallet game'

European trends in children’s travel patterns show decreasing rates of trips walked or cycled. Against this background, a concept for a smartphone app was developed to promote active travel modes for children and adolescents. The app collects players’ travel data as input for a game: a high level of real-life environmentally friendly and active travel modes leads to a higher score. Competing players redeem the points they have collected to reach specific virtual locations on a map and win real-life rewards (e.g., shopping vouchers). The game was developed based on the user-centered design approach—an iterative process between design, prototyping, and evaluation. This paper presents the game concept alongside the results of a prototype field test at three schools in the province of Lower Austria, comprising 57 students aged 12 to 18. Results suggest that the game was easy to use and entertaining. However, younger players lost interest faster than older ones. Players emphasized improvements in relation to mode detection and tracking of individual trips, since fair playing conditions were requested by all age groups. Although the level of knowledge about sustainable mobility is high among young people, the game was rated as being a good tool for raising awareness regarding the environmental and health effects of mode choice. The promising results of this research project need to be transferred into a business model that can provide ongoing game updates, keep the players interested, and achieve long-term effects.

Modern society is determined not only with a high level of development, but also a lot of social and economic problems. In the last years more and more popular became the meaning, that a lot of these problems could be solved with the canceling of cash. Experts and usual people are thinking that a new society will be more fair and transparent with less of criminal, drugs, economic fraud, unmotivated preference for individual categories, where everybody is paying less of tax and where is a high level of wealth protection. But in the real situation seems not so optimistic. In Life privacy. Canceling of cash mean total control against all financial operations of each person, their interests and tastes by banks and government. Besides that, using most mobile payment systems need geolocation – as result everybody will be all the time trecked in all senses of this word. In psychological sphere using electronic money will increase money spendings because using cash is combined with the feeling of pain, when people are spending them and e-money are for most of people something not so important, especially for young people (like money in PC game). In social shpere the cashless society will make problems for disabled people, people with mental problems and also can influence dementia by older people. Criminal. even if we will live in the cashless society with the modern trends, the level of financial fraud will reduce maximal on 15%, and P. Schmidt considered, that all the criminals will find another way for their activity. Besides that e-money and society are stimulating the growth of cybercrime and it is always growing and the companies, who had lost against cybercrime had spent more money for investigation of that cases, then they have lost. Unemployment. First of all, the system of cash circulation is huge. A lot of people are creation, designing, proofing, printing, gathering, retailing cash and also working each day in banks, cashier’s offices, shops and so on. Also many companies are producing stuff combined with cash. From wallets to cash machines. All these brunches will not exist anymore and all the people will lose their jobs. Economy. One of the main reasons to cancel cash was that in the cashless society will be impossible to set a negative rate and with the same it will be less of economic crises. But german economists have studied and proofed that it is possible and in this situation it will be more difficult to combat the crisis and cost much more for the government and people because all existing financial instruments that the government can use to fix situation are created only for cash and are working with it. Technical. Electronic systems could be crushed. Besides of that in case of wore or other conflicts people can ruin Internet connection all over the country and inhabitants will lose everything and have no possibility even get home. In general, e-payments are part of our life and they are very comfortable nowadays. But the canceling of cash will make more problems for people and organizations. This means that this could not be the right choice in the nearest future. Keywords financial system; cash; payment systems; cybercrime; banks; sociology; taxes; offshore zones.

Urban areas host several threatened species in small reserves that face habitat loss and fragmentation due to land-use change. Despite historical and current disturbances, these areas sometimes still maintain high biological diversity. As only 5% of the European Union territory was classified as natural, the permanent grasslands represent overriding value, especially in metropolitan areas. Our aim was to explore protected and adventive plant species in a small and valuable, but till now, not deeply studied area of the densely inhabited 12th district in the metropolitan city Budapest (Hungary), which is visited by large numbers of people. We compared various historical map sources in order to explain how the extension of the grasslands has changed during the past centuries and, thus, which patches are permanent grassland habitats. We found 29 protected and 1 strictly protected plant species. The highest number of protected plant species and their stands were found in the permanent grasslands. Besides urbanisation, a heavy load of tourism (especially on non-designated routes), off-road mountain biking, airsoft races, some illegal shelters for homeless people and game damage threaten this unique refuge of high natural values. The extension of grasslands between 1783 and 2016 varies from 6.7 ha to 21.5 ha. Their area constantly increased due to deforestation until 1867 and exceeded 20 ha, probably due to the mass increase in livestock grazing; then it stagnated until the 1920s, with a slight decrease due to expanding urban areas. Golf greens appeared, walker and skiing tourism increased and these apparently have not decreased the coverage of grasslands, but surely affected the composition of their species. Recent scrub encroachment and re-forestation caused a further decrease. Our distribution maps show the highest density of protected plant species on the southern slopes (2.4 hectare) that have constantly been grasslands since 1783 to date. Contrarily, the cutting of grasslands from 1861 to date contains only half of their number per area unit. Thus, the number of valuable plant specimens refers to the age of the grassland. Three species occur only in the oldest grasslands. Conservation actions should first and foremost focus on these patches.

The contemporary video game market is as recognisable for its brands as it is for the characters that populate their game worlds, from franchise-leading characters like Garrus Vakarian (Mass Effect original trilogy), Princess Zelda (The Legend of Zelda franchise) and Cortana (HALO franchise) to more recent game icons like Miles Morales (Marvel's Spiderman game franchise) and Judy Alvarez (Cyberpunk 2077). Interactions with these casts of characters enhance the richness of games and their playable worlds, giving a sense of weight and meaning to player actions, emphasising thematic interests, and in some cases acting as buffers to (or indeed hindering) different aspects of gameplay itself. As Jordan Erica Webber writes in her essay The Road to Journey, “videogames are often examined through the lens of what you do and what you feel” (14). For many games, the design of interactions between the player and other beings in the world—whether they be intrinsic to the world (non-playable characters or NPCs) or other live players—is a bridging aspect between what you do and how you feel and is thus central to the communication of more cohesive and focussed work. This essay will discuss two examples of game design techniques present in Transistor by Supergiant Games and Journey by thatgamecompany. It will consider how the design of “playful” interactions between the player and other characters in the game world (both non-player characters and other player characters) can be used as a tool to align a player’s experience of “intent” with the thematic objectives of the designer. These games have been selected as both utilise design techniques that allow for this “playful” interaction (observed in this essay as interactions that do not contribute to “progression” in the traditional sense). By looking closely at specific aspects of game design, it aims to develop an accessible examination by “focusing on the dimensions of involvement the specific game or genre of games affords” (Calleja, 222). The discussion defines “intent”, in the context of game design, through a synthesis of definitions from two works by game designers. The first being Greg Costikyan’s definition of game structure from his 2002 presentation I Have No Words and I Must Design, a paper subsequently referenced by numerous prominent game scholars including Ian Bogost and Jesper Juul. The second is Steven Swink’s definition of intent in relation to video games, from his 2009 book Game Feel: A Game Designer’s Guide to Virtual Sensation—an extensive reference text of game design concepts, with a particular focus on the concept of “game feel” (the meta-sensation of involvement with a game). This exploratory essay suggests that examining these small but impactful design techniques, through the lens of their contribution to overall intent, is a useful tool for undertaking more holistic studies of how games are affective. I align with the argument that understanding “playfulness” in game design is useful in understanding user engagement with other digital communication platforms. In particular, platforms where the presentation of user identity is relational or performative to others—a case explored in Playful Identities: The Ludification of Digital Media Cultures (Frissen et al.). Intent in Game Design Intent, in game design, is generated by a complex, interacting economy, ecosystem, or “game structure” (Costikyan 21) of thematic ideas and gameplay functions that do not dictate outcomes, but rather guide behaviour and progression forward through the need to achieve a goal (Costikyan 21). Intent brings player goals in line with the intrinsic goals of the player character, and the thematic or experiential goals the game designer wants to convey through the act of play. Intent makes it easier to invest in the game’s narrative and spatial context—its role is to “motivate action in game worlds” (Swink 67). Steven Swink writes that it is the role of game design to create compelling intent from “a seemingly arbitrary collection of abstracted variables” (Swink 67). He continues that whether it is good or bad is a broader question, but that “most games do have in-born intentionality, and it is the game designer who creates it” (67). This echoes Costikyan’s point: game designers “must consciously set out to decide what kind of experiences [they] want to impart to players and create systems that enable those experiences” (20). Swink uses Mario 64 as one simple example of intent creation through design—if collecting 100 coins did not restore Mario’s health, players would simply not collect them. Not having health restricts the ability for players to fulfil the overarching intent of progression by defeating the game’s main villain (what he calls the “explicit” intent), and collecting coins also provides a degree of interactivity that makes the exploration itself feel more fulfilling (the “implicit” intent). This motivation for action may be functional, or it may be more experiential—how a designer shapes variables into particular forms to encourage the particular kinds of experience that they want a player to have during the act of play (such as in Journey, explored in the latter part of this essay). This essay is interested in the design of this compelling thematic intent—and the role “playful” interactions have as a variable that contributes to aligning player behaviours and experience to the thematic or experiential goals of game design. “Playful” Communication and Storytelling in Transistor Transistor is the second release from independent studio Supergiant Games and has received over 100 industry accolades (Kasavin) since its publication in 2014. Transistor incorporates the suspense of turn-based gameplay into an action role-playing game—neatly mirroring a style of gameplay to the suspense of its cyber noir narrative. The game is also distinctly “artful”. The city of Cloudbank, where the game takes place, is a cyberpunk landscape richly inspired by art nouveau and art deco style. There is some indication that Cloudbank may not be a real city at all—but rather a virtual city, with an abundance of computer-related motifs and player combat abilities named as if they were programming functions. At release, Transistor was broadly recognised in the industry press for its strength in “combining its visuals and music to powerfully convey narrative information and tone” (Petit). If intent in games in part stems from a unification of goals between the player and design, the interactivity between player input and the actions of the player character furthers this sense of “togetherness”. This articulation and unity of hand movement and visual response in games are what Kirkpatrick identified in his 2011 work Aesthetic Theory and the Video Game as the point in which videogames “broke from the visual entertainment culture of the last two centuries” (Kirkpatrick 88). The player character mediates access to the space by which all other game information is given context and allows the player a degree of self-expression that is unique to games. Swink describes it as an amplified impression of virtual proprioception, that is “an impression of space created by illusory means but is experienced as real by the senses … the effects of motion, sound, visuals, and responsive effects combine” (Swink 28). If we extend Swink’s point about creating an “impression of space” to also include an “impression of purpose”, we can utilise this observation to further understand how the design of the playful interactions in Transistor work to develop and align the player’s experience of intent with the overarching narrative goal (or, “explicit” intent) of the game—to tell a compelling “science-fiction love story in a cyberpunk setting, without the gritty backdrop” (Wallace) through the medium of gameplay. At the centre of any “love story” is the dynamic of a relationship, and in Transistor playful interaction is a means for conveying the significance and complexity of those dynamics in relation to the central characters. Transistor’s exposition asks players to figure out what happened to Red and her partner, The Boxer (a name he is identified by in the game files), while progressing through various battles with an entity called The Process to uncover more information. Transistor commences with player-character, Red, standing next to the body of The Boxer, whose consciousness and voice have been uploaded into the same device that impaled him: the story’s eponymous Transistor. The event that resulted in this strange circumstance has also caused Red to lose her ability to speak, though she is still able to hum. The first action that the player must complete to progress the game is to pull the Transistor from The Boxer’s body. From this point The Boxer, speaking through the Transistor, becomes the sole narrator of the game. The Boxer’s first lines of dialogue are responsive to player action, and position Red’s character in the world: ‘Together again. Heh, sort of …’ [Upon walking towards an exit a unit of The Process will appear] ‘Yikes … found us already. They want you back I bet. Well so do I.’ [Upon defeating The Process] ‘Unmarked alley, east of the bay. I think I know where we are.’ (Supergiant Games) This brief exchange and feedback to player movement, in medias res, limits the player’s possible points of attention and establishes The Boxer’s voice and “character” as the reference point for interacting with the game world. Actions, the surrounding world, and gameplay objectives are given meaning and context by being part of a system of intent derived from the significance of his character to the player character (Red) as both a companion and information-giver. The player may not necessarily feel what an individual in Red’s position would feel, but their expository position is aligned with Red’s narrative, and their scope of interaction with the world is intrinsically tied to the “explicit” intent of finding out what happened to The Boxer. Transistor continues to establish a loop between Red’s exploration of the world and the dialogue and narration of The Boxer. In the context of gameplay, player movement functions as the other half of a conversation and brings the player’s control of Red closer to how Red herself (who cannot communicate vocally) might converse with The Boxer gesturally. The Boxer’s conversational narration is scripted to occur as Red moves through specific parts of the world and achieves certain objectives. Significantly, The Boxer will also speak to Red in response to specific behaviours that only occur should the player choose to do them and that don’t necessarily contribute to “progressing” the game in the mechanical sense. There are multiple points where this is possible, but I will draw on two examples to demonstrate. Firstly, The Boxer will have specific reactions to a player who stands idle for too long, or who performs a repetitive action. Jumping repeatedly from platform to platform will trigger several variations of playful and exasperated dialogue from The Boxer (who has, at this point, no choice but to be carried around by Red): [Upon repeatedly jumping between the same platform] ‘Round and round.’ ‘Okay that’s enough.’ ‘I hate you.’ (Supergiant Games) The second is when Red “hums” (an activity initiated by the player by holding down R1 on a PlayStation console). At certain points of play, when making Red hum, The Boxer will chime in and sing the lyrics to the song she is humming. This musical harmonisation helps to articulate a particular kind of intimacy and flow between Red and The Boxer —accentuated by Red’s animation when humming: she is bathed in golden light and holds the Transistor close, swaying side to side, as if embracing or dancing with a lover. This is a playful, exploratory interaction. It technically doesn’t serve any “purpose” in terms of finishing the game—but is an action a player might perform while exploring controls and possibilities of interactivity, in turn exploring what it is to “be” Red in relation to the game world, the story being conveyed, and The Boxer. It delivers a more emotional and affective thematic idea about a relationship that nonetheless relies just as much on mechanical input and output as engaging in movement, exploration, and combat in the game world. It’s a mechanic that provides texture to the experience of inhabiting Red’s identity during play, showcasing a more individual complexity to her story, driven by interactivity. In techniques like this, Transistor directly unifies its method for information-giving, interactivity, progression, and theme into a single design language. To once again nod to Swink and Costikyan, it is a complex, interacting economy or ecosystem of thematic ideas and gameplay structures that guide behaviour and progression forward through the need to achieve a single goal (Costikyan 21), guiding the player towards the game’s “explicit” intent of investment in its “science fiction love story”. Companionship and Collaboration in Journey Journey is regularly praised in many circles of game review and discussion for its powerful, pared-back story conveyed through its exceptional game design. It has won a wide array of awards, including multiple British Academy Games Awards and Game Developer’s Choice Awards, and has been featured in highly regarded international galleries such as the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Its director, Jenova Chen, articulated that the goal of the game (and thus, in the context of this essay, the intent) was “to create a game where people who interact with each other in an online community can connect at an emotional level, regardless of their gender, age, ethnicity, and social status” (Webber 14). In Journey, the player controls a small robed figure moving through a vast desert—the only choices for movement are to slide gracefully through the sand or to jump into the air by pressing the X button (on a PlayStation console), and gracefully float down to the ground. You cannot attack anything or defend yourself from the elements or hostile beings. Each player will “periodically find another individual in the landscape” (Isbister 121) of similar design to the player and can only communicate with them by experimenting with simple movements, and via short chirping noises. As the landscape itself is vast and unknown, it is what one player referred to as a sense of “reliance on one another” that makes the game so captivating (Isbister 12). Much like The Boxer in Transistor, the other figure in Journey stands out as a reference point and imbues a sense of collaboration and connection that makes the goal to reach the pinprick of light in the distance more meaningful. It is only after the player has finished the game that the screen reveals the other individual is a real person, another player, by displaying their gamer tag. One player, playing the game in 2017 (several years after its original release in 2012), wrote: I went through most of the game by myself, and when I first met my companion, it was right as I walked into the gate transitioning to the snow area. And I was SO happy that there was someone else in this desolate place. I felt like it added so much warmth to the game, so much added value. The companion and I stuck together 100% of the way. When one of us would fall the slightest bit behind, the other would wait for them. I remember saying out loud how I thought that my companion was the best programmed AI that I had ever seen. In the way that he waited for me to catch up, it almost seemed like he thanked me for waiting for him … We were always side-by-side which I was doing to the "AI" for "cinematic-effect". From when I first met him up to the very very end, we were side-by-side. (Peace_maybenot) Other players indicate a similar bond even when their companion is perhaps less competent: I thought my traveller was a crap AI. He kept getting launched by the flying things and was crap at staying behind cover … But I stuck with him because I was like, this is my buddy in the game. Same thing, we were communicating the whole time and I stuck with him. I finish and I see a gamer tag and my mind was blown. That was awesome. (kerode4791) Although there is a definite object of difference in that Transistor is narrated and single-player while Journey is not, there are some defined correlations between the way Supergiant Games and thatgamecompany encourage players to feel a sense of investment and intent aligned with another individual within the game to further thematic intent. Interactive mechanics are designed to allow players a means of playful and gestural communication as an extension of their kinetic interaction with the game; travellers in Journey can chirp and call out to other players—not always for an intrinsic goal but often to express joy, or just to experience and sense of connectivity or emotional warmth. In Transistor, the ability to hum and hear The Boxer’s harmony, and the animation of Red holding the Transistor close as she does so, implying a sense of protectiveness and affection, says more in the context of “play” than a literal declaration of love between the two characters. Graeme Kirkpatrick uses dance as a suitable metaphor for this kind of experience in games, in that both are characterised by a certainty that communication has occurred despite the “eschewal of overt linguistic elements and discursive meanings” (120). There is also a sense of finite temporality in these moments. Unlike scripted actions, or words on a page, they occur within a moment of being that largely belongs to the player and their actions alone. Kirkpatrick describes it as “an inherent ephemerality about this vanishing and that this very transience is somehow essential” (120). This imbuing of a sense of time is important because it implies that even if one were to play the game again, repeating the interaction is impossible. The communication of narrative within these games is not a static form, but an experience that hangs unique at that moment and space of play. Thatgamecompany discussed in their 2017 interviews with Webber, published as part of her essay for the Victoria & Albert’s Video Games: Design/Play/Disrupt exhibition, how by creating and restricting the kind of playful interaction available to players within the world, they could encourage the kind of emotional, collaborative, and thoughtful intent they desired to portray (Webber 14). They articulate how in the development process they prioritised giving the player a variety of responses for even the smallest of actions and how that positive feedback, in turn, encourages play and prevented players from being “bored” (Webber 22). Meanwhile, the team reduced responsiveness for interactions they didn’t want to encourage. Chen describes the approach as “maximising feedback for things you want and minimising it for things you don’t want” (Webber 27). In her essay, Webber writes that Chen describes “a person who enters a virtual world, leaving behind the value system they’ve learned from real life, as like a baby banging their spoon to get attention” (27): initially players could push each other, and when one baby [player] pushed the other baby [player] off the cliff that person died. So, when we tested the gameplay, even our own developers preferred killing each other because of the amount of feedback they would get, whether it’s visual feedback, audio feedback, or social feedback from the players in the room. For quite a while I was disappointed at our own developers’ ethics, but I was able to talk to a child psychologist and she was able to clarify why these people are doing what they are doing. She said, ‘If you want to train a baby not to knock the spoon, you should minimise the feedback. Either just leave them alone, and after a while they’re bored and stop knocking, or give them a spoon that does not make a sound. (27) The developers then made it impossible for players to kill, steal resources from, or even speak to each other. Players were encouraged to stay close to each other using high-feedback action and responsiveness for doing so (Webber 27). By using feedback design techniques to encourage players to behave a certain way to other beings in the world—both by providing and restricting playful interactivity—thatgamecompany encourage a resonance between players and the overarching design intent of the project. Chen’s observations about the behaviour of his team while playing different iterations of the game also support the argument (acknowledged in different perspectives by various scholarship, including Costikyan and Bogost) that in the act of gameplay, real-life personal ethics are to a degree re-prioritised by the interactivity and context of that interactivity in the game world. Intent and the “Actualities of (Game) Existence” Continuing and evolving explorations of “intent” (and other parallel terms) in games through interaction design is of interest for scholars of game studies; it also is an important endeavour when considering influential relationships between games and other digital mediums where user identity is performative or relational to others. This influence was examined from several perspectives in the aforementioned collection Playful Identities: The Ludification of Digital Media Cultures, which also examined “the process of ludification that seems to penetrate every cultural domain” of modern life, including leisure time, work, education, politics, and even warfare (Frissen et al. 9). Such studies affirm the “complex relationship between play, media, and identity in contemporary culture” and are motivated “not only by the dominant role that digital media plays in our present culture but also by the intuition that ‘“play is central … to media experience” (Frissen et al. 10). Undertaking close examinations of specific “playful” design techniques in video games, and how they may factor into the development of intent, can help to develop nuanced lines of questioning about how we engage with “playfulness” in other digital communication platforms in an accessible, comparative way. We continue to exist in a world where “ludification is penetrating the cultural domain”. In the first few months of the global COVID-19 pandemic, Nintendo released Animal Crossing: New Horizons. With an almost global population in lockdown, Animal Crossing became host to professional meetings (Espiritu), weddings (Garst), and significantly, a media channel for brands to promote content and products (Deighton). TikTok, panoramically, is a platform where “playful” user trends— dances, responding to videos, the “Tell Me … Without Telling Me” challenge—occur in the context of an extremely complex algorithm, that while automated, is created by people—and is thus unavoidably embedded with bias (Dias et al.; Noble). This is not to say that game design techniques and broader “playful” design techniques in other digital communication platforms are interchangeable by any measure, or that intent in a game design sense and intent or bias in a commercial sense should be examined through the same lens. Rather that there is a useful, interdisciplinary resource of knowledge that can further illuminate questions we might ask about this state of “ludification” in both the academic and public spheres. We might ask, for example, what would the implications be of introducing an intent design methodology similar to Journey, but using it for commercial gain? Or social activism? Has it already happened? There is a quotation from Nathan Jurgensen’s 2016 essay Fear of Screens (published in The New Inquiry) that often comes to my mind when thinking about interaction design in video games in this way. In his response to Sherry Turkle’s book, Reclaiming Conversation, Jurgensen writes: each time we say “IRL,” “face-to-face,” or “in person” to mean connection without screens, we frame what is “real” or who is a person in terms of their geographic proximity rather than other aspects of closeness — variables like attention, empathy, affect, erotics, all of which can be experienced at a distance. We should not conceptually preclude or discount all the ways intimacy, passion, love, joy, pleasure, closeness, pain, suffering, evil and all the visceral actualities of existence pass through the screen. “Face to face” should mean more than breathing the same air. (Jurgensen) While Jurgensen is not talking about communication in games specifically, there are comparisons to be drawn between his “variables” and “visceral actualities of existence” as the drivers of social meaning-making, and the methodology of games communicating intent and purpose through Swink’s “seemingly arbitrary collection of abstracted variables” (67). When players interact with other characters in a game world (whether they be NPCs or other players), they are inhabiting a shared virtual space, and how designers articulate and present the variables of “closeness”, as Jurgensen defines it, can shape player alignment with the overarching design intent. These design techniques take the place of Jurgensen’s “visceral actualities of existence”. While they may not intrinsically share an overarching purpose, their experiential qualities have the ability to align ethics, priorities, and values between individuals. Interactivity means game design has the potential to facilitate a particular kind of engagement for the player (as demonstrated in Journey) or give opportunities for players to explore a sense of what an emotion might feel like by aligning it with progression or playful activity (as discussed in relation to Transistor). Players may not “feel” exactly what their player-characters do, or care for other characters in the world in the same way a game might encourage them to, but through thoughtful intent design, something of recognition or unity of belief might pass through the screen. References Bogost, Ian. Persuasive Games: The Expressive Power of Video Games. MIT P, 2007. Calleja, Gordon. “Ludic Identities and the Magic Circle.” Playful Identities: The Ludification of Digital Media Cultures. Eds. Valerie Frissen et al. Amsterdam UP, 2015. 211–224. Costikyan, Greg. “I Have No Words & I Must Design: Toward a Critical Vocabulary for Games.” Computer Games and Digital Cultures Conference Proceedings 2002. Ed. Frans Mäyrä. Tampere UP. 9-33. Dias, Avani, et al. “The TikTok Spiral.” ABC News, 26 July 2021. <https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-07-26/tiktok-algorithm-dangerous-eating-disorder-content-censorship/100277134>. Deighton, Katie. “Animal Crossing Is Emerging as a Media Channel for Brands in Lockdown.” The Drum, 21 Apr. 2020. <https://www.thedrum.com/news/2020/04/21/animal-crossing-emerging-media-channel-brands-lockdown>. Espiritu, Abby. “Japanese Company Attempts to Work Remotely in Animal Crossing: New Horizons.” The Gamer, 29 Mar. 2020. <https://www.thegamer.com/animal-crossing-new-horizons-work-remotely/>. Frissen, Valerie, et al., eds. Playful Identities: The Ludification of Digital Media Cultures. Amsterdam UP, 2015. Garst, Aron. “The Pandemic Canceled Their Wedding. So They Held It in Animal Crossing.” The Washington Post, 2 Apr. 2020. <https://www.washingtonpost.com/video-games/2020/04/02/animal-crossing-wedding-coronavirus/>. Isbister, Katherine. How Games Move Us: Emotion by Design. MIT P, 2016. Journey. thatgamecompany. 2012. Jurgensen, Nathan. “Fear of Screens.” The New Inquiry, 25 Jan. 2016. <https://thenewinquiry.com/fear-of-screens/>. Kasavin, Greg. “Transistor Earns More than 100+ Industry Accolades, Sells More than 600k Copies.” Supergiant Games, 8 Jan. 2015. <https://www.supergiantgames.com/blog/transistor-earns60-industry-accolades-sells-more-than-600k-copies/>. kerode4791. "Wanted to Share My First Experience with the Game, It Was That Awesome.”Reddit, 22 Mar. 2017. <https://www.reddit.com/r/JourneyPS3/comments/60u0am/wanted_to_share_my_f rst_experience_with_the_game/>. Kirkpatrick, Graeme. Aesthetic Theory and the Video Game. Manchester UP, 2011. Noble, Safiya Umoja. Algorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racism. New York UP, 2018. peace_maybenot. "Wanted to Share My First Experience with the Game, It Was that Awesome” Reddit, 22 Mar. 2017. <https://www.reddit.com/r/JourneyPS3/comments/60u0am/wanted_to_share_my_f rst_experience_with_the_game/>. Petit, Carolyn. “Ghosts in the Machine." Gamespot, 20 May 2014. <https://www.gamespot.com/reviews/transistor-review/1900-6415763/>. Swink, Steve. Game Feel: A Game Designer’s Guide to Virtual Sensation. Amsterdam: Morgan Kaufmann Publishers/Elsevier, 2009. Transistor. Supergiant Games. 2014. Wallace, Kimberley. “The Story behind Supergiant Games’ Transistor.” Gameinformer, 20 May 2021. <https://www.gameinformer.com/2021/05/20/the-story-behind-supergiant-games-transistor>. Webber, Jordan Erica. “The Road to Journey.” Videogames: Design/Play/Disrupt. Eds. Marie Foulston and Kristian Volsing. V&A Publishing, 2018. 14–31.

Cox, Friedman, and Sadiraj (2008) develop a model of reciprocity, „Revealed Altruism‟, which posits that a „more generous than‟ (MGT) offer elicits a „more altruistic than‟ (MAT) response. A MGT ordering is defined by two conditions. Condition a) states that MGT is ordered by the maximum potential increase in income of the recipient, or that the more you stand to receive from an offer, the more generous it is to you. Condition b) states that the increase in maximum potential income of the recipient cannot be less than the maximum potential increase in income of the proposers. In other words, Condition b) states that an offer cannot be self-serving, but it is not specified in Cox, Friedman, and Sadiraj (2008) precisely how b) affects the MGT ordering. I propose that a violation of b) is considered self-serving and is less MGT than when b) is not violated. I then experimentally study the empirical relevance of b) using two designs that hold a) constant, comparing MGT differences implied by responses. The first design is a variant of the Lost Wallet Game (Dufwenberg & Gneezy, 2000) with a negative outside option, and the second design is a modified Investment Game (Berg, Dickhaut, & McCabe, 1995) with elements of the Dictator Game implemented by Andreoni and Miller (2002). I find no empirical support that b) affects the MGT ordering.

Spanish émigré guitarist Celedonio Romero gave his American debut performance on a June evening in 1958. In the sixty years since, the Romero family—Celedonio, his wife Angelita, sons Celín, Pepe, and Angel, as well as grandsons Celino and Lito—has become preeminent in the world of Spanish flamenco and classical guitar in the United States. Walter Aaron Clark’s in-depth research and unprecedented access to his subjects have produced the consummate biography of the Romero family. Clark examines the full story of their genius for making music, from their outsider's struggle to gain respect for the Spanish guitar to the ins and outs of making a living as musicians. As he shows, their concerts and recordings, behind-the-scenes musical careers, and teaching have reshaped their instrument’s very history. At the same time, the Romeros have organized festivals and encouraged leading composers to write works for guitar as part of a tireless, lifelong effort to promote the guitar and expand its repertoire. Entertaining and intimate, Los Romeros opens up the personal world and unfettered artistry of one family and its tremendous influence on American musical culture. It features a gallery of forty photographs as well as appendices providing a chronology, genealogy, list of albums, and a summary of Romero publications, editions, and educational materials.

This chapter concentrates on prison friendships. It begins with an exploration of possibilities for creating new relationships as well as maintaining contact through a wall. Wall relationships helped prisoners extend beyond their own cell and gave them a chance to recreate themselves and some of the social roles that they lost when they entered prison. This chapter tells the story of life in both interrogation cells and cells where women were to spend their sentences. It then zooms in on a particular cell where imprisoned Communists, two Home Army women, and a Ukrainian Insurgent Army member were able to create an atmosphere of mutual support and understanding. Looking at the relationships between women of different ideological commitments and the trust and familiarity they forged also leads to an opportunity to probe the relationships between prisoner spies and their cellmates.

The humane and workable solution to global poverty is freedom. We can help the poor—and help ourselves at the same time—by tearing down our walls and trade barriers. Both justice and good economic sense require that we open borders, free up international trade, and respect the economic liberties of people around the world. What global justice requires is an open world. Most books on global justice see the world’s poor as little more than mouths to be fed. Their authors see justice as a zero-sum game: some must lose so that others may win. They rely on controversial moral intuitions and outdated or mistaken economic beliefs about economic growth. Van der Vossen and Brennan present global justice as a positive-sum game: the methods that can best help the world’s poor also help everyone else. Using mainstream development economics and common-sense moral intuitions, they argue that instead of treating the world’s poor as helpless victims who must be rescued by the rich, we should remove the coercive limits that keep people poor in the first place. We should offer people the freedom to work, produce, trade, and migrate, in ways that help better themselves and others who are willing to cooperate with them. In Defense of Openness offers a new approach to global justice: we don’t need to “save” the poor. The poor will save themselves, if only we would get out of their way and let them.

The division of Germany separated a nation, divided communities, and inevitably shaped the life histories of those growing up in the socialist dictatorship of the East and the liberal democracy of the West. This peculiarly German experience of the Cold War has so far mostly been seen through the lens of the divided Berlin or other border communities. What has been much less explored, however, is what division meant to the millions of Germans in East and West who lived far away from the Wall and the centres of political power. This book is the first comparative study to examine how villagers in both Germanies dealt with the imposition of two very different systems in their everyday lives. Focusing on two villages, Neukirch (Lausitz) in Saxony and Ebersbach (Fils) in Baden-Württemberg, it explores how local residents experienced and navigated social change in their localities in the postwar era. Based on a wide range of archival sources as well as oral history interviews, the book argues that there are parallel histories of responses to social change among villagers in postwar Germany. Despite the different social, political, and economic developments, the residents of both localities desired rural modernization, lamented the loss of ‘community’, and became politically active to control the transformation of their localities. The book thereby offers a bottom-up history of the divided Germany which shows how individuals on both sides of the Wall gave local meaning to large-scale processes of change.

Protestant Dissent was assailed by Anglo-Catholics in England and by the Mercersburg Theologians in the United States for its fissiparous tendencies, sectarian nature, and privileging of emotional conversionism over apostolic order and objective, sacramental religion. Yet this chapter argues that personal conversion was essential to the faith of Dissent and the key to its spirituality, worship, and congregational life. Whether conversion was gradual or instantaneous, it remained the point of entry into the Christian life and the full privileges of church membership. Spurred by the preaching of the gospel and sometimes, but not always, accompanied by the application of the divine law, the earlier underpinning of conversionism in Calvinism gave way to an emphasis on human response. Popular in both the United States and Great Britain, the ‘new measures’ of the Presbyterian evangelist Charles Finney, in which burdened souls were called forward to ‘the anxious bench’ and prayerfully incited to undergo the new birth, brought thousands into the churches. However, in more liberal circles especially, conversion had by the end of the century become less of a crisis of guilt and redemption than a smooth progression towards spiritual fullness. Although preaching was often linked, especially in the first part of the century, with revivalist exuberance, it remained a mainstay of congregational life. Mainly expository and practical with a view of building up congregants in the faith, it was accompanied by hymn singing, scriptural readings, public prayers, and the two sacraments or ‘ordinances’ of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Sermons tended to become shorter as the century progressed, from an hour or so to thirty or forty minutes, while the ‘long prayer’, invariably offered by the minister, tended to be didactic in tone. From mid-century onwards, there was a move towards more rounded worship, though congregations would sit (or sometimes stand) for prayer, but not kneel. The liturgical use of the church year with congregational recitation of the Lord’s Prayer became slowly more acceptable. Communion, either monthly or quarterly, was usually a Zwinglian memorial of Christ’s atoning sacrifice. The impact of the temperance movement during the latter part of the century dictated the use of non-alcoholic rather than fermented wine in the Lord’s Supper, while in a reaction to Anglican sacerdotalism, baptism too, whether believers’ baptism or paedo-baptism, progressively lost its sacramental character. Throughout the century, Dissenters sang. In the absence of an externally imposed prayer book or a standardized liturgy, hymns provided them with both devotional aids and a collective identity. Unaccompanied at first, hymn singing, inspired mostly by the muse of Isaac Watts, Charles Wesley, and, in Wales, William Williams, became more disciplined, eventually with organ accompaniment. Even while moving towards a more sophisticated, indeed bourgeois mode, Dissent maintained a vibrant congregational life which prized a simple, biblically based spirituality.

The 1880 rule’s scrimmage definition has a problem in that it allows a “block” game in which one team holds possession of the ball indefinitely to prevent play and avoid a likely loss. Safeties also continue to be abused to prevent the stronger team from winning. At the 1881 rule-making convention, compromise legislation partially penalizes safeties. But indefinite or unlimited ball possession is still possible and is used in games after the convention to block meaningful play and prevent a loss.

The Supreme Court’s decision in the Regents case meant that the NCAA lost control of the broadcast rights for NCAA football. Looking for ways to make up the lost revenue, NCAA executive director Walter Byers agreed to allow Host to sell corporate sponsors for the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. Gillette was the first company to sign on, followed by Valvoline. Before long, major corporations were spending millions of dollars to use the NCAA and Final Four logos to promote their products. David Novak’s Pizza Hut promotion proved to be the most successful of all. Other sponsorships included Hyatt, Kodak, Oldsmobile, Rawlings, and American Airlines. With millions of dollars of revenue coming from corporate sponsors, the NCAA’s new executive director Dick Schultz was looking for a way to promote women’s athletics. Host pitched the idea of a primary sponsor for women’s athletics, and Sara Lee CEO Paul Fulton agreed to join the cause. Sara Lee’s sponsorship helped expand the appeal of women’s intercollegiate athletics, and corporate sponsorships changed the fortunes of the NCAA and Host Communications Inc.

This chapter reflects on how we can use myths to explore and illuminate the inner landscape through which we journey, and in which we are, inevitably, often lost. It describes the Untermyer Gardens in Yonkers, New York, and its centerpiece: the Walled Garden, or “Garden of Eden.” A brainchild of Samuel Untermyer and designed by William Welles Bosworth, the Untermyer Gardens also features the Lion's Gate and the Tree of Knowledge. In the same way that Untermyer and Bosworth grew a garden by mythologizing a place, we can start to “grow a soul,” as anthropologist Barbara Myerhoff once put it, by mythologizing our lives. The trek through the gardens invites us to consider our inner journeys where ancient myths entwine with our own life stories. In The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell writes about the patterns in ancient mythology, offering as examples Prometheus and Jason. These ancient myths resonate not just in our popular culture but as metaphors in our own lives.

Proceeding with working groups, the amalgamated rules committee’s open-play working group (Camp, E. K. Hall of Dartmouth, Reid) rejects forward passing across the scrimmage line. But at the next full rules-committee meeting, Hall individually proposes passing across the line under certain limits—for example, loss of possession if the passed ball strikes the ground, untouched by a player. His proposal becomes the basis for full committee approval of forward passing along with Camp’s ten-yard rule (plus a neutral zone separating opposing lines). A Central Board of Officials is also created, with Camp a member, to instruct officials, develop a roster of satisfactory officials, and on request appoint officials for games. St. Louis University, coached by Edward Cochems, uses forward passes extensively in 1906. Cochems writes an article on passing for Camp’s How to Play Football booklet. Camp successfully uses a pass against Harvard in 1906 for the winning points. By 1908 a number of Midwest teams are using the forward pass ten or more times per game.

Archaeological evidence indicates that, during the final halfcentury of the life of the city, the area directly annexed by the military was significantly larger than the original excavators realized. In addition to concentrations of soldiers around the gates and defences, and at various places within the ‘civil’ town, the military came to control a single continuous swathe of the urban interior, comprising the entire N part of the walled area from the W defences to the river cliffs, and extending as far as the S end of the Citadel, plus the floor of the inner wadi right down to Lower Main St opposite the (by Durene standards) showy C3 bath, which it also apparently built. This area totals c.13.5 ha (c.33 acres)—a literal quarter of the intramural area which today covers c.52 ha (c.118 acres, measured from the CAD plan of the city by Dan Stewart; both city and base were slightly bigger in antiquity, before loss of the River Gate and parts of the Citadel). In its final form, the base included several distinct zones (Pl. XXIII). The NW part of the city had become a military enclosure, bounded on the E side by a continuous wall down the W side of G St, incorporating the street facades of the E3 bath and E4 house. On the S it was defined by the ‘camp wall’ from the city defences to D St; with no sign of a wall across blocks F5 or F7, the perimeter between D and F Sts is inferred. It must be presumed that, as to the W, the 8th-St-fronting properties of the two blocks were taken over, but that the party walls comprising the boundary with civil housing to the S was not further elaborated. These lines converged on the amphitheatre, which formed the corner of the enclosure. This perimeter of the NW enclosure involved physically blocking Wall, A, C, D, and 10th Sts. A major entrance was on 8th St, at G St between the amphitheatre and the E4 house.

From the junction of H and 8th Sts, which gave access to the twin main axes of the military base zone on the plateau, H St led S to the bulk of the civil town and ultimately to the Palmyrene Gate, the steppe plateau W of the city, and the roads W to Palmyra and NW up the Euphrates to Syria. The fourth side of the crossroads followed a curving course SE, down into the inner wadi, then snaking through the irregularly laid-out old lower town to the now-lost River Gate, portal to the Euphrates and its plain. Of most immediate significance is that the Wadi Ascent Road also linked the plateau military zone with what can now be seen as another major area of military control, in the old Citadel, and on the adjacent wadi floor. The N part of the wadi floor is now known to have accommodated two military-built temples, the larger of which, the A1 ‘Temple of the Roman Archers’, was axial to the long wadi floor, which in the Roman period appears to have comprised one of the largest areas of open ground inside the city walls. This is interpreted as the campus, or military assembly and training ground, extension of which was commemorated in an inscription found in the temple. In 2011, what is virtually certainly a second military temple was found in the wadi close by the first, built against the foundation of the Citadel. This is here referred to as the Military Zeus Temple. Behind the Temple of the Roman Archers was a lane leading from the Wadi Ascent Road to the N gate of the Citadel. It helped define a further de facto enclosure, effectively surrounded by other military-controlled areas and so also presumed to have been in military hands. The Citadel itself, while in Roman times already ruinous on the river side due to cliff falls, still formed part of the defences. Moreover the massive shell of its Hellenistic walls now also appears to have been adapted to yet more military accommodation, some of it two storeys or higher.

Friedrich Wöhler was referring to the field of organic chemistry during the early 1800s when he wrote the above but his comments would not be out of place in the context of embarking upon a global study of past and present human relationships with tropical forests. Dense vegetation, difficulty of navigation, issues of preservation, political and health concerns, poisonous plants, animals, and insects, and the prospect of carrying out sampling or excavation in high humidity have all meant that our knowledge of human history and prehistory in these environments is under-developed relative to temperate, arid, or even polar habitats. There have been theoretical questions as to what kind of human activity one would even expect to find in tropical forest environments, which seem hostile to human foraging (Hart and Hart, 1986; Bailey et al., 1989) let alone thriving agricultural or urban settlements (Meggers, 1971, 1977, 1987). This has, until relatively recently, left the state of archaeological tropical forest research in a similar position to popular conceptions of these environments—untouched, primeval wilderness. Public ideas of an archaeologist investigating a tropical forest are probably synonymous with someone in a shabby-looking leather hat being chased, if not by a large stone boulder then by a group of Indigenous people with blowpipes, as they wade through dense undergrowth and vines while clutching a golden discovery that has been lost to the western world for thousands of years (Spielberg, 1981). The more recent development of the best-selling Uncharted video game series has done little to change these ideas amongst the next generation of media consumers, with players taking on the role of Francis Drake’s mythical ancestor in search of long lost treasure, frequently hidden within caves and ruins surrounded by vines and dense canopies (Naughty Dog et al., 2016). The idea of treasure hidden within tropical forest is also not a modern conception. The long-term myth of El Dorado, a city covered in gold, fuelled exploration of the tropical forests of South America by renowned individuals, including Sir Walter Raleigh, from the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries (Nicholl, 1995).

<em>Abstract.</em>—In October 1989, the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (MNDNR) treated 1,266-acre Knife Lake and 70 miles of the Knife River system above the lake with a synergized rotenone concentrate formulation to eliminate the carp <em>Cyprinus carpio </em>population. This was a controversial project from initial planning through treatment, and required a lengthy mitigation process. Issues, such as environmental contamination, damage to endangered species, reduced lake-based recreation and economic loss, project cost, chemical toxicity, effects on nontarget organisms, and damage to cultural resources, were raised initially by two people in opposition. It required 18 months and the preparation of an Environmental Assessment Worksheet to mitigate or address these concerns. The mitigation process involved several MNDNR disciplines, various other units of government, and a large sportsmen’s organization. Because of the lengthy mitigation process, the cost increased from the planned $119,150 to $350,000. The results of the treatment were total removal of rough fish, improvements in water quality, reestablishment of aquatic macrophytes, and successful reintroduction of game fish. Walleye <em>Stizostedion vitreum </em>are again successfully spawning in the Knife River and numbers have greatly increased. Carp have not appeared in the watershed through 2000 and most of the pre-treatment fish assemblage has been reestablished. In a debriefing meeting following this project, MNDNR managers decided to take a pro-active approach to informing the public as a policy for future projects.

Our culture has seen a generational shift in activity levels. In the 1950s everyone walked. How do I know? I grew up in the 1950s. Cars were typically reserved for day trips or vacations, except for people living in the country. Garages had one stall. Shopping malls had not proliferated and people walked to stores; children did not take buses to school, except for farm kids. Snow was removed with shovels, and grass was cut with push mowers. In a half-century, this scene has changed and we have adopted a sedentary lifestyle. Further contributing to this lifestyle is the proliferation of video games, multichannel TVs with remote controls, and computers. Blue collar work is increasingly done overseas. A sedentary culture should favor those with DLB or PDD, right? Lewy-related parkinsonism is physically challenging. With our cultural change, there is no longer a need to get up from the chair and walk very far. In fact, a lift chair with a motor will make it easy to stand. Ostensibly, this is all good. However, there is a dark side to this scenario, which is the focus of this chapter. As you have probably already surmised, we are going to enlarge on that old adage “if you don’t use it, you lose it.” It turns out that there is much truth in that statement, documented in scientific and medical journals. Exercising is easy when one is young and energetic, but it becomes increasingly difficult in middle age; it is downright hard during senior years, even with no neurologic or orthopedic conditions. Excuses and alternatives can easily sidetrack the best of intentions. Anything this difficult needs a compelling rationale. This chapter will summarize the scientific evidence suggesting that vigorous exercise has a biological effect on the brain that may well counter neurodegeneration and brain aging. The term exercise is used in a variety of ways. In this chapter, the focus is on aerobic exercise, which will also be referred to as vigorous exercise. This is exercise sufficient to induce sweating and raise the heart rate.

Impingement/effusion cooling has no cross-flow in the impingement gap if all the coolant flow through the impingement wall passes through the effusion wall. In this investigation, the impingement part of the impingement/effusion cooling was investigated by minimising the cross-flow using a four sided exit impingement cooling geometry. The impingement geometry investigated was a square array of 10 by 10 impingement holes with a pitch to diameter, X/D, of 11, hole density, n, of 4306m−2, and gap to diameter ratio, Z/D, of 7.25 for coolant mass flux G of 0.2–1.1 kg/sm2bar. The impingement target and jet walls were modelled as Nimonic-75 as used in the experimental work used for validation of the computational methods. Conjugate heat transfer (CHT) computational fluid dynamics (CFD) was used with ANSYS Fluent code. The measured impingement target wall pressure loss ΔP/P% and target wall surface averaged heat transfer coefficient together with the heat transfer to the impingement jet wall were all predicted in agreement with the measurements, within the measured error bars. The predicted surface distributions of Nu and turbulent kinetic energy (TKE) were compared with predictions for impingement single sided exit flow and the impingement/effusion approach (target) walls. This showed that the reduced crossflow with the four sided exit gave higher surface averaged heat transfer. However, comparison with the impingement/effusion wall heat transfer, for the same impingement wall geometry, showed that the removal of coolant through the effusion wall reduced the recirculating flow in the impingement gap and this reduced the heat transfer to the impingement jet wall, but increased it to the target effusion wall.

Short annular diffuser systems consisting of a conical expansion section with negative wall angles and a solid (full outer diameter) diffusing section were tested experimentally at several inlet swirl angles of 0–40°. Tests analyzed were completed over a range of inlet Reynolds number of Ret = 0.9–2.2 × 105 and considered fully turbulent. Performance — back pressure coefficient, outlet velocity uniformity, and total pressure loss — were appreciably depreciated for inlet swirl number larger than 0.7 and the average 10° curved vane swirler out-performed its straight vaned equivalent. Three centre bodies with length half that of the diffuser and different curvatures were manufactured. Similar performance was achieved but each centre body provided marginal improvements to a particular objective. Most notably, the centre body that gave an initial flow expansion angle of 14° resulted in 1–4% lower back pressure than the other two whose expansion angles were 12° and 16°.

Double wall helical coil heat exchangers are widely used in a variety of applications. These heat exchangers are used anywhere that requires an added layer of protection from cross-fluid contamination such as in indirect water heaters. Here, the coil is heating a potable water tank with coil water which is often infused with a glycol mixture. Since contamination of the potable water would be detrimental to human health, the added protection of a double wall coil is necessary. Unfortunately, the double wall coil is inherently difficult to design due to unknown intertubular contact. This intertubular contact is hidden in nature and difficult to evaluate by nondestructive means. This paper uses STAR-CCM+ to create a computational fluid dynamic model of the double wall helical coil in respect to GAMA indirect water heater continuous draw test conditions. Using CFD, the model is validated with single wall helical coil Nusselt number correlations determined from experimentation. Then, a parametric study is performed to determine what parameters of the coil can be changed to effectively overcome the intertubular thermal loss. From this study, it is found that tube length has a linear positive relationship with coil output density and can be used to calculate necessary lengths for a desired output. Also, it was found that the experimental Nusselt number correlations identify with the results calculated by the double wall CFD model when intertubular contact percentage is used as a correction factor.

In this work, high-density polyethylene/multi-walled carbon nanotubes (HDPE/MWCNTs) nanocomposites containing various filler loadings (i.e., 0.5∼16.0 wt.%) were prepared with their thermal conductivities determined using a laser-based analyzer. It was found that although the nanocomposite’s thermal conductivity increased with elevated MWCNT content, the enhancement degree lowered gradually. Rheology and microstructure characterizations were performed to reveal the morphology origin of gradually weakened thermal-conductivity enhancement. The dynamic rheology measurements showed that all nanocomposites exhibited higher storage modulus (G′), loss modulus (G″) as well as complex viscosity (η*) compared with the neat HDPE. More interestingly, the plateau of the flow regime formed at low frequency ranges with MWCNT loadings higher than 2.0 wt.% suggested the formation of the MWNCT network structures within the nanocomposites. The existence of such structures was further verified by the Cole-Cole curves obtained from the rheology testing and MWCNT distribution states from scanning electron microscope (SEM) results. The formation of MWCNT network lowered the degree of thermal-conductivity enhancement in such a way that it gave a larger possibility for MWCNTs to agglomerate, which led to phonon scattering that reduced the nanocomposite’s thermal conductivity.

Laminar separation was investigated experimentally on a flat plate under a strongly diffusing self-similar pressure distribution. This gave a long and thin laminar separation bubble. Boundary layer velocity traverses were performed at numerous longitudinal stations. Using a single hot wire a combination of individual traces, phase averaging and time averaging was used. To supplement this, an array of microphones was installed to give instantaneous contours of pressure perturbation and to investigate the time dependent flow features. Microphone data were consistent with the strong amplification, under the adverse pressure gradient, of instabilities predicted far upstream of the separation point. Driven at the Tollmien-Schlichting (T-S) frequency, these instabilities grew into turbulent spots developing in the shear layer of the separation bubble. Reattachment of the bubble was caused by transition of the separated shear layer. The waves were strongest in the later stages of transition. Once the coherence was lost, in a turbulent layer, the amplitude became diminished. Wake disturbances were injected into the flow and traced through the flow field. The wake interaction resulted in turbulent patches which penetrated to the wall. Following the patches was the calmed region, detectable as a region of reduced wave activity in the transition region following each turbulent strip. For a short time at the end of the calmed region the viscous instability waves continued to propagate for a considerable distance downstream, in concert with the calmed region, in an otherwise turbulent zone.

A substantial part of the high pressure gastransport network of Gastransport Services as part of N.V. Nederlandse Gasunie in the Netherlands is not piggable. It is therefore foreseen that an ECDA approach including coating survey techniques, CP measurements and bell hole excavations, will be implemented to establish the integrity of these non-piggable lines. In order to get a better understanding of the performance of some techniques for our specific situation, a test program was carried out on a pipeline of 33 kilometres with a diameter of 8” and bitumenous coating, constructed in the sixties. DCVG, Pearson and a combination of CIPS and Pearson (CIPP) were tested in combination with 3 MFL intelligent pigruns, current attenuation measurements by the Stray Current Mapper (SCM) and bell hole excavations. Initial results for the three coating survey techniques showed that the detection probabilities for a coating defect ranged from 18% to 68% under the assumption that no false calls were generated. Using results from repeat measurements and taking into account the possibility of false calls, the detection probabilities increased to potential maximum values of 48% to 94%. Better estimations of the values could be obtained after verification of some indications from CIPP, leading to maximum values in the range of 70% to 84% for the best two techniques. Additional measurements at pre-selected locations by means of pipe-to-soil-potentials and pin-current measurements did not indicate active corrosion. Verification excavations at 14 locations indicated that in all situations a coating defect existed and that mild general corrosion was present in eight situations due to the very aggressive soil (soil resistances of several Ωm’s were measured). Current attenuation measurements by the SCM suggested a uniform distribution of coating quality. The results from the three intelligent pigruns were of relatively little use because of the detection threshold of 15% wall thickness and the fact that the suppliers often did not agree on the interpretation of metal loss. Therefore the results could not be considered to be an absolute true reference for relating the coating defects to. Although the results of the program gave very valuable insight into the characteristics of the different techniques it is recognized that not all results can be translated to other circumstances/pipelines. Therefore additional tests and surveys will be carried out in the coming year(s) to further work out the ECDA procedure for the specific situation of the non-piggable pipelines of Gastransport Services.