Ergonomics in a Furry World
Notes compiled by Dave Bryant from discussion with Baron Engel, copyright 2003
Ergonomics, also known as human engineering, is the field of engineering concerned with the interaction of technology and its users. As a formal discipline, it is very young, having arisen only in the latter half of the twentieth century, but its aim is as old as technology itself. It is as visible in the carefully flaked hand axes of our earliest ancestors as it is in the latest version of a desktop computer’s user interface, and seeks to answer a single simple question:
A Brief History
Before the Industrial Revolution, the relationship between a tool and its user rarely merited more than passing consideration. Even the occasional prodigy like Leonardo da Vinci was forced to rely on naked-eye observation and empirical experimentation. As often as not, bad assumptions or erroneous conclusions would produce unfortunate results—sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle.
The rise of steam power in the nineteenth century and, with it, a new and ever-expanding cornucopia of mechanical technology created an urgent incentive to make tools, new and old, safer and easier to use. Time and motion studies, efficiency programs, and many other methods developed to bring scientific rigor to bear on the problem. Still, while the success rate improved, it tended to be hit or miss.
The hothouse climate of technological development in the United States during the Second World War could no longer tolerate this uneven groping. After all, reliability and efficiency might make the difference between victory and defeat in the greatest war in human history. For the first time, ergonomics became a recognized field of study, distinct from other forms of management or industrial design and combining elements of each.
The second industrial revolution, ushering in the Information Age, brought with it both the greatest challenges and greatest solutions yet. The potential of the electronic computer to accept, manipulate, and present information is theoretically limited only by the human imagination. Not only does this make usability of absolute importance for electronic devices, but the exponential increase in the ability to sense and analyze events too large, tiny, fast, slow, or extreme for human senses to grasp has revolutionized ergonomic design and implementation.
The Three Basic Questions
Ergonomics is a vital aspect of world-building. Every artifact built by an intelligent species, even the smallest, reflects how that species perceives and manipulates its environment. The importance of this maxim can be seen in the branch of archaeology that attempts to reconstruct a vanished culture by examining its handiwork—often the only evidence available for the task.
To get a handle on what is potentially a staggeringly large problem, a creator can begin by asking himself (or herself) three basic questions. The answers to those questions can act as the springboard to further development, especially if the intent is to create a background with depth and complexity.
What is the available technology?
Some of the answer to this question may fall out of answers to the other questions. At the same time, answering it in depth can lead to reevaluations of the others, which in turn feeds into this question yet again. Balancing this back-and-forth cycle can be tricky, but very rewarding for the conscientious and studious creator.
What is the genré?
Not only might this influence how advanced the available technology is, it could indicate how rigorously the creator should adhere to science and engineering as we understand them—realism, or at least plausibility, in other words. A light comedy can get away with stretching suspension of disbelief far more than a serious hard-SF environment can, for example.
What are the people like?
Being able to answer this question in detail can be profoundly important, especially for elaborate works like novels. A working understanding of biomechanics as well as more conventional sciences like anthropology will stand the author or artist in good stead, since seemingly minor differences in physiognomy or psychology can lead to huge variations in technological design.
Before We Begin . . .
The rest of this brief deals not with direct answers to these questions, but with useful background information on factors that influence ergonomics, to help the creator find his or her own answers. It is by no means exhaustive—in fact, it merely scratches the surface of this complex and specialized form of engineering. Creators are encouraged to conduct their own research appropriate to the work at hand.
There are two basic kinds of sources available: those that deal with ergonomics specifically and those that deal generally with a technology or class of technology. Judicious research of the former can arm the creator with the knowledge of what to look for when rummaging through the latter. In addition to the printed documentation available in libraries, the Web contains quite a lot of material.
Much of the information in the following pages compares and contrasts human and other mammalian evolutionary solutions, particularly in the context of why humans look and function the way they do. This should not be seen as discouraging to creators of anthropomorphic characters. Instead, this approach raises issues that, for the serious author or artist seeking to create a plausible, reasonably realistic character, species, or culture, should be answered satisfactorily to maintain suspension of disbelief.
Technology
The laws of phyics are the same everywhere. Assuming similar environmental conditions, a given mechanism will perform the same tasks in pretty much the same manner, no matter who built it. From the ergonomic point of view, then, this question largely deals with generalities.
Form follows function
This is the most fundamental axiom of industrial design. A well-designed device contains no extraneous frills unrelated to its function and lacks nothing essential to that function. This is why military and industrial equipment tends to have a no-nonsense, utilitarian feel. Consumer products, of course, temper this with aesthetic overtones to woo buyers, but even there, designers must be careful that such elaborations don’t interfere with the product’s true purpose.
Question assumptions
Don’t take anything for granted. It’s easy to overlook something simply because it is so familiar, so ingrained, that one never thinks twice about it. Do “proceed” traffic lights have to be green? Do light switches have to flick up for on and down for off?
Often, such conventions arise out of historical accident (“it just worked out that way, because . . .”). Other times, they might be dictated by technical limitations or requirements or by physical, psychological, or cultural factors. Two-handle faucets usually place the cold-water control on the right: most people are right-handed, and a blind reach for the faucet is therefore less likely to result in possibly scalding hot water pouring out unexpectedly.
One way or another
As the previous point indicates, rarely is there only one optimal way for a given type of device to look or work. There is usually room for a wide variety of solutions to any given problem, dictated by an equally wide variety of influences. These include price, feature set, target market, culture of origin, conditions of use, ruggedness, and many others.
On the other hand, different designers working toward the same goals tend to arrive at similar-looking results. This is one reason why attention to detail in art or writing is important—a lack of it will be obvious to aficianados, who aren’t shy about pointing it out. A sufficiently obvious lack of it can damage the creator’s credibility even with laymen.
If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it
Change is a good idea only if it also constitutes a genuine improvement. Haphazard change is rarely a good idea at all. Standards and conventions exist to make sure that change, when needed, progresses in an organized fashion.
The speed of change can vary tremendously. A five-year-old desktop computer is long in the tooth, but a B-52 bomber airframe may end up serving for nearly a century. Moreover, newer isn’t necessarily better. The C-130 Hercules transport aircraft is decades old, but it has outlived nearly every would-be successor, because the original design is so durable and adaptable.
Of course, there are those who use this argument as an excuse to avoid necessary change, too. Conservative or static societies may suffer from historical inertia. Outdated standards may linger because it is difficult or impossible to replace a huge existing “installed base” of equipment.
Soldier-proofing
There’s an old saying in the military: if a recruit is locked, naked, in a padded room with two ball bearings the size of grapefruit, when he is let out an hour later, he will have lost one and broken the other.
Making a device or at least its controls big and clunky can be vital. The user may be wearing gloves, making fingers thick and stiff and muffling tactile feedback. The normal conditions of operation may be stressful (whether constantly or intermittently), interfering with concentration and dexterity. There may be safety or fail-safe requirements, inherent or mandated by regulation. The typical user may be young or handicapped.
The application may require things that move, click, or otherwise provide the user definitive feedback—for example, “panic” buttons. “Membrane” keyboards all but vanished, nearly as quickly as they appeared, except in applications where weather-proofing is important, because the flat, unresponsive plastic face of such a keyboard gives the touch-typist no tactile cues.
The best-laid plans
We live in a less than ideal world. Everyone has encountered products that are difficult, uncomfortable, or dangerous to use.
What seems attractive at first blush may turn out to be ill-conceived. Sometimes it’s a a poor design choice or a lack of understanding of the problem’s true nature. Early single-action revolvers had to be cocked before firing. Later double-action models didn’t require thumb-cocking, but trigger pull was heavier. Calibers—and therefore recoil—also got heavier. Unfortunately, handgrip designs didn’t change for years, until manufacturers realized double-action and heavier-caliber revolvers were rolling upward punishingly in firer’s hands.
Other times, what works well in one context fares badly when transferred to another. Head’s-up displays are de rigeur in combat aircraft, but they’ve failed to make headway in the automotive world. Why? It turns out that HUDs require more training to use properly than is practical or at least tolerable for ordinary citizens to undergo, unlike carefully selected and rigorously trained combat pilots.
Products may be tested under conditions that don’t reflect reality (or may not be tested at all). A supplier of workstations to the U. S. Navy proudly showed off a model under development. At least one onlooker was dissatisfied with the demonstration. It was run again, this time with a shouting NCO looming over the operator. The rattled operator’s performance under stress, such as might be experienced during combat, was dismal compared to the laboratory-ideal circumstances of the first test run.
For whatever reason—poorly written instructions, poorly informed users, or any of a host of others—a device may be used improperly by the consumer. By even the most conservative estimates, the overwhelming majority of infant seats are imcorrectly installed in automobiles.
On the other hand, the fault may lie with the producer. VCRs are a cultural icon of unusability. Programming procedures are notoriously convoluted, to the extent that most owners never bother with them—but they made perfect sense to the engineers designing them.
Genré
As important as the category of fiction into which the creator’s work fits (fantasy, science fiction, space opera, mystery, slice of life, what have you) is the degree to which the creator desires to maintain realism versus effect. The latter runs in a continuous spectrum from one to the other.
- “Type I” technology is most realistic, with little or no artistic license. This stuff really has to work, or at least look like it works, without any apparent compromises.
- “Type II” technology looks plausible if one squints a little. It seems realistic at first glance, but may have subtle inconsistencies for the sake of effect.
- “Type III” technology looks cool! Style is everything and plausibility is secondary. Suspension of disbelief is very important here.
- “Type IV” technology is straight out of the cartoons. It’s pure effect; style and plausibility are discarded at will for the sake of the work.
Stylin’
What is the underlying look and feel of the technology? For “steam-punk” or pulp adventure in the tradition of Wells and Verne, big gears and rivets will be everywhere. This is likewise true of “grunge” space opera, as exemplified by Games Workshop’s Warhammer 40,000. Early space opera, in the tradition of E. E. “Doc” Smith, tends toward the opposite: clean and sleek. Most mainstream science fiction today, which tends to balance somewhere between the extremes of “hard” SF and space opera, ranges from very contemporary-looking utilitarianism to exotic bio- or nanotechnological motifs.
Societies, especially pre-industrial ones, do tend to have signature styles. A Japanese castle can be distinguished readily from a European one, and not just in the decorative elements, yet both also have many elements in common. Industrialization, primarily because of standardization and mass production, tends to mute such styles, but it manifestly does not eliminate them.
In any genré, there is a huge range of historical examples from which to draw, either directly or as guides. Studying real-world swordsmithing, for example, helps immensely when designing original blades, even if those weapons do not resemble anything in the historical record. How is the metal worked at a given level of technology, and what metals are available? What is known of the science behind making and using such weapons? What are the cultural and physical priorities that influence shape and size?
Describe the universe; give three examples
The challenges of creating a setting are manifold and difficult. Basing it on real history, contemporary or past? Decide how closely to hew to that real history and how much license to take with it. Trying to be original? Be careful not to draw too obviously from an existing historical or fictional inspiration or to create a Frankenstein’s monster of poorly fitted parts from a host of sources.
Above all, match the amount of effort to the work. A single illustration probably only needs some fast inquiries into the whys and wherefors of devices actually shown. Writing a novel or setting up a universe for stories or role-playing demands thorough, ongoing research.
People
Every manmade artifact is, at root, an extension of the human hand, mind, or eye (or other sensory organ). This, in a nutshell, is why the ergonomics of a device are so important—and why they would differ profoundly for a nonhuman user, even one that bears a strong resemblance to humans, as so many “furry” characters and species do.
Gimme some skin
Compared to the hair of human skin and horse hide, fur is complex, comprising at least two types of hair. Awn hairs, downy and relatively short, trap heat. Guard hairs, longer and stiffer, are so called because they protect the awn hairs from damage. Furred skin has few or no sweat glands; humans and horses sacrifice awn hairs in favor of sweat glands. (Horses, with denser coats of hair, have fewer glands than humans.)
Skin coverings, particularly fur and feathers, present two major difficulties to post-industrial technology. One is a tendency for fur to get in the work or work to get in the fur. Imagine a furry car mechanic cleaning up at the end of the day or a furry cook keeping the food from being contaminated. The other is that it is nearly impossible to create an airtight seal against fur or feathers. This poses obvious problems for scuba divers and aviators.
The human sense of touch is excellent and unimpeded by fur or other coverings. This is true not just on hands, feet, and face, where it is most acute, but all over the body, and may be one reason why human skin is thin and delicate compared to other mammals. Furry characters, as a result, probably will rely less on the sense of touch than humans do, and may prefer to touch things with hands, feet, nose, lips, or tongue in situations demanding tactile sensitivity.
Some observers have raised objections to clothing over fur. Static charges, generating cling or shocks, is one. Wearing fur off in places is another. Neither is insurmountable. Careful choice of materials and weaves will help to alleviate the former, even without anti-static treatments. Light, loose clothing, or even a society with different clothing and nudity taboos, will minimize the latter. A third objection is that people would not subject themselves to discomfort in the name of fashion. However, many human cultures practice tattooing, piercing, or body shaping like foot- or head-binding or even high-heeled shoes.
Someplace to put the hat
Humans have flat faces with small jaws, noses and ears. A tropical sight-hunting species has little need for long nasal passages to warm inhaled air (such as Neanderthal man had) or to support a superb sense of smell. An omnivore depending first on small game and vegetable matter, then on larger game brought down and butchered with artificial tools, likewise does not need a long, strong jaw and sharp teeth.
The head of an upright biped like a human sits on top of the neck, like a ball on a pole. The weight of a muzzle on the front of such a head, if not counterbalanced at the back of the skull behind the backbone, will cause uncomfortable and distracting bobbing of the head while running. Striking the muzzle or twisting it—as might happen in a fall or a fight—can damage the spine, the skull, or even the brain, if done sharply enough.
Human senses are well-rounded and discriminating. The human brain masses more in relation to total body mass than almost any other mammal in order to process and interpret all that sensory information, and needs to be housed in a large, domed skull.
Humans can see colors, forms, and movement finely and sharply, and have good binocular vision. (It is an oversimplification to say that dogs and cats—and other animals—are color-blind; it is more accurate to say their color vision is limited and rather fuzzy.) Night vision is partially sacrificed for this ability.
The whorls of cartilage and skin that make up human outer ears direct vibrations into the ear canals with little loss of energy. Even without the movable pinnae so many other mammals possess, humans have an amazing ability to track the directions from which sounds are coming, because of the ears’ placement on opposite sides on the head. The delay between the time when a sound strikes one ear and the time it strikes the other is key to this ability.
Some anthropomorphic characters have ears on the sides of the head, but shaped like a compromise between human and animal. Aside from being somewhat more prominent than on humans, these pose no particular difficulty for ergonomic design.
However, pinnae perched on top of the head, as well as antlers or horns, make headgear problematic. Earlier comments about clothing notwithstanding, the degradation in hearing, not to mention the irritation of muffling ear movement (if any), would tend to make hats comparatively rare.
Helmets are another matter. For pre-industrial cultures, barrel helms and such are likely to be popular. Kettle hats with larger top-ridges would work, too. If the ears will fold or crush down without too much discomfort, any design that does not place structural pressure on the ears will do.
Eyewear, too, would differ. Shaping the earpieces to loop upward is possible but somewhat awkward. An elastic string around the back of the head could work, though it might not be completely comfortable. The lenses must be shaped carefully to fit over the muzzle, if any.
The aforementioned antlers and horns give a whole new meaning to the term “headroom”. Bobbing is one possibility. Careful removal and fitting with pins or screws and sockets is another, allowing the individual to remove them in close quarters and put them back out outside.
The myth of fingerprints
Human palms and soles, generally speaking, have no hair on them. In fact, a close look reveals that the texture and color of the skin itself differs from skin elsewhere on the body.
Part of that, of course, are the curves and ridges of hand- and footprints, and especially of fingerprints. These exist to create friction, making it easy to get a secure grip on objects or surfaces. Fur or other skin coverings, on the other hand, interfere both with the sense of touch and with gripping. Even on paws, there is no skin on actual contact areas.
Anthropomorphic characters, thus, are likely to have bare palms and soles. Any hair or fur that grows on the undersides of the hands and (plantigrade) feet is likely to be worn off, pulled out, or shaved to avoid this.
Shake that tail
Early man’s tropical environment gave him no need for a tail as a warmer, and his comparatively slow run obviated the need for a tail as a rudder. On the other hand, his upright stance required that the organs of the lower abdomen be supported against sagging.
The tailbones thus evolved into a strictly internal support, covering a gap in the pelvic basket that would otherwise become a serious structural flaw. This solution also prevents interference with the largest and most powerful muscles in the human body, the gluteus maximus or buttocks, needed to swing long, straight legs and big, flat feet.
For a tailed biped, then, the pelvis must be changed to account for the “missing” support and the buttocks must be redesigned to make room for the tail. Keep in mind that tail injuries are likely to be a common medical complaint. Imagine simply falling backward on one’s tail or the hurdles faced by designers of armor or athletic protection.
Furniture, too, must be altered, especially seating; so-called “knee” chairs and other backless seats are one solution. Vehicular seating is a particular challenge. If the tail can be tucked under the buttocks, that will do, though getting out and standing at intervals will be even more important than for humans. If not, then seats must have cut-outs where seat and back meet and the tail threaded through. This is bothersome and in an accident potentially dangerous, but there seems to be no other workable solution.
If the characters or species has large, extremely fluffy tails, this factor is not so much of a worry. Such tails are insupportable under real-world physics, and automatically move the work to “type II” or “type III” technology.
These boots’re made for walkin’
Most quadrupedal mammals are digitigrade, walking on the toes and what in a human would be the balls of the feet. Humans are bipedal and plantigrade, planting two feet flat on the ground. The straight columns of human legs support the individual’s weight with the least practicable mass of muscle and bone.
Big flat feet make balancing easier for a biped, especially when running. Another consideration is “ground pressure”: heavy objects exert a lot of pressure on the ground. If that ground is soft, they tend to sink into it. The only way to minimize this is to spread the weight across larger surfaces, thereby reducing the pressure.
The arch of the human foot is rather like the leaf springs that motor vehicles once used to help absorb bumps in the road. As well as cushioning the shock of hitting the ground, the arch stores kinetic energy from that shock, releasing it as the foot is lifted again for another stride. As a result, human bipedal locomotion is among the most energy-efficient methods of any land animal.
The human heart works hard, moving blood long distances to the extremities and back. The flexing of the arch also helps to push the blood through the foot and up the leg toward the heart, aiding circulation precisely when it is most needed—during the exertion of walking or running.
A digitigrade biped, then, is an enormous biomechanical challenge. The paws must be huge and the lower legs thick and powerful, since even when standing they must support the body’s full weight on bent joints. Ω
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