One of the biggest tech developments of the last few years is the iPhone app store, where 200,000 cool little free or cheap programs are available for instant downloading to the iPhone or iPod Touch. Similar stores are available for BlackBerry, Android phones, Palm phones and so on.
So with that many choices, how on earth do you find your way? It’s a gigantic problem.
Customer reviews are one of the main tools. People who’ve downloaded a certain app write a little paragraph about it and give it a star rating, 1 through 5. At a glance, you can find out whether a certain program is a gem or a dog.
The customer-review process isn’t perfect. Occasionally, it can be abused, or manipulated. There have been cases, for example, where a software company deliberately trashes the apps of its competitors, giving them terrible reviews in hopes of dampening their sales.
But this week, I came across something I’d never seen before: an app that had earned dozens of one-star (terrible) ratings — yet the written reviews were ecstatic.
“This app is amazing!” (one star)
“This is the best app ever. I’m so glad I bought it! If you don’t have it, you need it now.” (one star)
“Awesome app! One of the best and funnest apps ever. Great job!” (one star)
“Really should get ten stars.” (one star)
“Wow — the best $3 I have ever spent! Keep up the low ratings!” (one star)
What’s going on?
Well, it turns out that the app, iForce, is a magic trick. There are lots of great magic-trick apps for the iPhone — Penn and Teller have a really good one, for example. But this one is truly astonishing.
You write a prediction on the iPhone screen, using your finger in a painting app. You put the phone face down on the table. Then you ask someone in the audience to name a number between 1 and 8. Or to pull a bill out of his wallet. Or to name her favorite kind of restaurant. You can make up your own stunts, too.
The spectator names the thought-of number, shows the bill or identifies the restaurant. You turn the iPhone back over, and sure enough, that’s exactly what you had written there. “$20,” for example. Or “Indian food.”
You can repeat the trick, and it just gets more baffling every time. It really is a brilliant trick. (You can see a video on YouTube.)
The problem is that magicians love having such a powerful trick with them at all times, but once they’re in the inner circle, they don’t want anyone else to know.
The creator of the trick, Grigor Rostami, wrote to me how the problem started:
I started reading on magic forums that magicians were intentionally giving my app a 1-star rating to keep it secret from everyone else on the app store. If you read the most critical reviews of iForce, you’ll see almost all of them say the same thing in one way or another:
“* KEEP THE RATING LOW IDIOTS
“* KEEP THE RATING LOW SO PEOPLE DONT FIND THIS APP OUT.
Some of my users defend me, with reviews like: ‘Best magic app ever, so easy to use with a fantastic result. A note to those of you who have rated this app low to keep it a secret: THERE IS SOMEONE BEHIND THIS APP TRYING TO MAKE A LIVING. So please, rate fairly.’
Mr. Rostami reports that once these one-star writers began arriving, his average rating dropped from 5 to 3.4 stars, and his sales dropped substantially.
In the end, I think the “rate this low” crowd is wrong. Manipulating Mr. Rostami’s ratings for the purpose of keeping the trick a secret is just as wrong as software companies trashing their competitors.
Yes, it’s true that if iForce becomes very popular, and its method becomes widely known and discussed, it will become worthless as a trick.
It’s also true that by writing about it, I’ve probably accelerated that trend. Believe me, as a fellow magician, I’m sensitive to the issue of exposure, as it’s called when you reveal a trick’s secret. I’ve always worried about it when writing about magic.
But here’s the thing: I believe that control over the secret should ultimately reside with its creator.
When I wrote “Magic for Dummies,” for example, I published primarily tricks that were expressly “contributed” to the book by the magicians who’d come up with them. In the same way, if Mr. Rostami doesn’t mind his trick becoming popular and well known, isn’t that his decision? He gave the method to the magic community; it’s not up to the customers to ruin his living.
Magic in the technology age is a weird beast. Ideally, you’d allow yourself to be amazed and enchanted, and quit worrying about how it’s done. But you can find out the secret to any trick if you look hard enough. Worst case, you can go to a magic store or online magic catalog and buy the thing. There’s no secret handshake, no license, no vetting of your magic skills whatsoever.
So why are magicians so bent on protecting this particular trick?
It’s because the app store lowers the barriers so much. You don’t have to go to a magic store; one click buys the trick.
But the principle is the same; in the end, almost any magic secret is for sale. Someone, somewhere invented the trick, designed it, built it and found a retail channel for it, hoping to make money by selling it. Just because it’s software shouldn’t make iForce any different.
