To improve digital connections, cities should invest in people – not fibre

Fibre optic art at the Holbourne Museum, Bath. Image: Getty.

There’s no doubt that fibre optic cable straight into your home is the best internet technology. And as the Centre for Cities argued in last autumn’s report How cities can make the most out of digital connections, cities should remove barriers to investment in this technology, and all new homes should be built with it or passive provision for it.

As such, for places considering how to improve digital connectivity, the temptation might be to devote valuable resources to increase availability of fibre. The fact that only 4 per cent of UK premises currently have this top-of-the-range connection (compared to 90 per cent in Portugal) is often highlighted as a reason to do so.

But as our report showed, a better way for cities to improve digital connectivity is to focus efforts on building up the skills and confidence of local people – many of whom will hardly be using the internet they already have – rather than subsidising a technology which many people are yet to find a practical use for.

The case for devoting investment to improving digital technology is undermined by three issues:

1. It’s hard to argue that a lack of fibre to homes is a significant drag for the economy.

Businesses that want or need fibre can get it. Among the various costs including rents, rates and wages, a leased fibre line is a relatively minor, albeit significant cost.

2. The difference between fibre and Superfast Broadband is invisible to most people.

Bemoaning how far the UK trails Portugal in fibre coverage would have more traction if it was clear exactly how UK residential internet users are worse off. For example, in the UK we have almost national coverage of minimum 36Mbps Superfast Internet, with 97 per cent of people able to sign up if they choose to do so. (Many do not.)

And unless you are looking to run a gaming server or connect double-digit numbers of devices, you wouldn’t notice any difference between a fibre or superfast broadband connection, for example while streaming UltraHD Netflix.

3. The private sector is already acting to improve digital networks.

As dense clusters of potential customers, cities are the most attractive areas for private investment in digital networks, from fibre to 4G and soon 5G.

As such, cities should instead focus on ensuring that any barriers – from unnecessary planning hurdles to disaggregated fibre demand – don’t get in the way of this investment. For example, cities such as York and Milton Keynes – which are pushing to become the first ‘gigabit cities’ – have worked hard to smooth these issues, so that private sector investment as easy and appealing as possible.

As Centre for Cities has argued, take-up of Superfast Broadband where it has been subsidised is still only up to around 50 per cent now. And among those who have been convinced to pay extra every month for higher speeds, it’s not clear that many are actually using the internet more than those with slower speeds their internet. Some people may just like to buy the fastest available package.


This fits with the government’s review of its £1.6bn programme to increase Superfast Broadband provision, which found that it offered little benefits to residents, while surveys found no increase in wellbeing reported by those with faster internet. Subsidising even faster internet for these users in a market where the private sector is highly active should not be in urban leaders’ plans for improving digital connectivity.

Instead, cities should do two things. Firstly, they should focus on addressing the clear market failure – helping the millions of people still lack the competence and confidence to thrive online, many of whom are from deprived communities. That means equipping these people with the skills they need to get online or more confident using digital services.

Devolved adult education budgets would allow cities to do more to give residents the skills, confidence and awareness to book a doctor’s appointment or do their shopping online – simple things which could nonetheless make a big difference to their everyday lives. Government should consider switching some of its focus and resource from connecting homes to fibre to ensuring that Local Digital Skills Partnerships have all of the resources necessary to get people connected to the internet.

Secondly, cities should reduce the barriers to accessing services online. For example, they should go further in making online the quickest and most convenient channel to access public services, to attract the reluctant or holdouts. That means taking simple steps such as redesigning online forms from council tax to planning applications so that they are as simple as possible; and considering a secure central registry with individuals’ data that make the process even easier by reducing the need to filling in the same personal information over and over. Our report highlights fantastic examples of how councils such as Salford are improving user experience in this way.

Even if the short-term benefits are unclear, cities have the benefit of a private sector willing to invest in their digital infrastructure. It is up to them to invest in their people to access it.

Simon Jeffrey is a policy officer at the Centre for Cities, on whose blog this article first appeared.

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City of Ruin: On Resident Evil’s Raccoon City

Photo: Wikipedia via Creative Commons

With the release of Capcom’s remake of Resident Evil 2 on Friday 25 January, gamers will return to the terrifying streets of one of the most iconic cities in video games: the zombie-infested Raccoon City.

Despite first being mentioned in 1997’s original Resident Evil, that game took place entirely in a mansion outside the city and it wasn’t until the 1998 sequel that we actually got to explore Raccoon City itself.

Since then, it’s become a recurring location in the games series and various spin-off media, even though – and this is an unavoidable spoiler, so abandon this article now if you’re planning to go into the remake completely cold – Resident Evil 2 ends with the city being comprehensively nuked by the US government.

In fact, the series returned to Raccoon City a year later in 1999’s Resident Evil 3, an asset-reusing fill-in instalment that cleverly loops around the events and locations of Resident Evil 2 and gives the player another, more detailed look at the city’s final destruction.

Raccoon City RIP, from Resident Evil 3. The author of this piece was not allowed to have the piano theme from the credits as music at his wedding.

Since then, the 1998 fall of Raccoon City has been revisited in the two Resident Evil Outbreak titles, in the Umbrella Chronicles and Darkside Chronicles light gun Wii games, and in the shockingly mediocre online shooter Operation Raccoon City, as well as the Milla Jovovich-starring live action film series.

Although the plot line of the main game series has moved on to new locales and time periods from 2005’s Resident Evil 4 onwards, the franchise clearly left a part of itself on the streets of Raccoon City in 1998, and can’t help but repeatedly return. But why?

To answer that we need to look at what kind of games the Resident Evil series are, their genre roots and the continuity that’s built up within the games themselves – and how these elements have created an eccentric idea of an average American city.

The original Resident Evil had horror game precedents in titles like Alone in the Dark and the film adaptation, Sweet Home – even sharing a developer, Capcom, and a director, Shinji Mikami, with the latter – but it twisted these influences and precedents to create a new sub-genre: survival horror.

The survival horror genre is distinguished by the cautious, steady exploration of a contained environment, facing off against horrific creatures that constantly threaten to overpower the player, who must conserve scarce resources like ammo and health top-ups. As opposed to game genres where environments are dashed through while shooting wildly, survival horror games, and their steady pace, demand locations that reward attention.

The live action introduction to the characters in the original Resident Evil. Mysteriously this technique hasn’t been used in the series since.

The first game, called Biohazard in its native Japanese but renamed Resident Evil in English, opened with a ridiculous live-action video in which an elite team of cops – as seen in the video above – wind up in the creepy Spencer Mansion located in the Arklay Mountains near Raccoon City. There, our heroes, part of the elite and very coolly acronymic STARS team, face off against zombies and other genetically engineered monsters created as weapons by the evil Umbrella Corporation.

Player characters, Chris or Jill, move from room to room in the mansion, fighting off monsters and making progress by solving baroque puzzles where rooms are locked by mysterious keys and booby trap devices. As the plot unfolds Chris and Jill realise that they’ve been set up, acting as experimental subjects to provide data about the combat efficiency of Umbrella’s Bio-Organic Weapons, or BOWs for short.

Gameplay from the original Resident Evil. NSFW due to gore and terrible voice acting.

Although we don’t go near Raccoon City in the first game, it sets several precedents that shape the urban space encountered in the sequel. The game relies on confined spaces and environments in which the player struggles to escape a looming zombie, with doorways to pass through to move from one small area to another. As well as building tension this is a technical issue – the dramatic fixed camera angles allow the backdrops to each screen to essentially be pre-rendered still images on which animated characters and interactive items move, allowing in turn for a much higher resolution in the backgrounds than was possible for moving 3D environments at the time – which lends the world of the game a distinct, atmospheric feel, the sense of a real, detailed place.


The fiction of the game justifies the Spencer Mansion’s weird layout and complex locks partially through its use by the Umbrella Corporation as a secret laboratory and testing facility, and partially through the story of the Mansion’s eccentric architect, George Trevor, who installed all these traps and puzzles on the orders of Umbrella’s founder, Ozwell Spencer. These narratives are told through documents found around the Mansion and its grounds.

The final element here is one of genre. If you’re a Resident Evil newcomer, you may well have read the past few paragraphs and thought “this makes absolutely no sodding sense whatsoever”, and you wouldn’t be wrong. The most obvious genre precedents for the series are the zombie films of filmmaker George A Romero, but the series also takes influence from the considerably less coherent European knock offs Romero inspired, all through a lens of Japanese horror, which is far more prone to abstraction and nightmare logic as well as post-Hiroshima concerns about mutation.

These overlapping influences shaped Raccoon City itself – a city in the mid-western United States, created by Japanese game developers in the mid to late 1990s taking influence from zombie films of the 1970s and 1980s, some of which were shot in Europe. Factor in the technical and gameplay requirements, and you end up with a uniquely skewed vision of an American cityscape.

The original Resident Evil 2 opens with the zombie outbreak well underway, and protagonists Leon and Claire stranded in a Downtown area overrrun with the undead. The narrow streets are rendered narrower by crashed cars and barricades, evidence of the carnage that has occurred and failed defensive efforts. The opening scenes of the game are a hectic dash through cluttered streets and a crashed bus to get to a gun shop and the game’s first major environment, the Raccoon Police Department. Resident Evil 3 revisits Downtown and the RPD, filling in restaraunts, shopping streets, an area under construction, an electricty substation, the City Hall, a gas station and a tram station.

The unusually narrow streets of Raccoon City as seen in Resident Evil 3.

Resident Evil 3 also adds the adjacent Uptown area with warehouses, sales offices, bars and residential streets that border on tenements in their density and narrow alleys. Between the two games the ruined city is a beautiful example of stage-managed desolation, with distant screams and evidence of horrors past strewn across the cluttered chaos. It’s also ridiculous, a toytown version of a city where industrial, residential and commercial activities are piled upon each other. The George Trevor school of architectural madness is also in full effect, with the RPD building being a converted art gallery complete with doors that are opened by manipulating statues, and gates to City Hall that unlock when a clock outside is completed.

An eccentric approach to architecture and city planning is one hand wave explanation for why Raccoon City doesn’t make much sense, another within the fiction is that it’s an Umbrella Corporation company town, with their labs and facilities scattered across the city. Every business and facility can hide a lab or storage area for Umbrella. In Resident Evil 2, the sewers and a cable car trip lead to a dead factory hiding a lab facility in the Raccoon City outskirts, an underground lab revisited (or pre-visited?) in Resident Evil Zero and the Outbreak games.

In Resident Evil 3 a disastrous jaunt in a tram leads to the city hospital which hides a lab full of reptilian monstrosities, then on through the park, across a dam and into another dead factory hiding another laboratory. 

As much as anything makes sense in Raccoon City, there’s a sort of logic to seeing the city as a giant laboratory in which the local population are bred as guinea pigs, who can be snatched up and experimented upon in the individual facilities across the city. It’s a groteseque but not entirely inaccurate caricature of urban space where the masses live and die at the whim of the corporate forces who shape the city for their own purposes. The cramped urban spaces of Raccoon City, where industrial, residential, and commercial areas pile up on each other in a mass of twisty, narrow streets that are barely more than corridors, add a level of dream logic to this scenario, making for an evocative urban nightmare.

The boring, sensibly proportioned streets of Operation: Raccoon City

While the Outbreak games added new areas to Raccoon City – a zoo, a university by the sea – their adherence to the oppressively warped architecture and geography of the series made these additions of a piece with their predecessors. Other adaptations have been less successful: the Chronicles and Operation Raccoon City games turned the streets into open boxes for less contained, run-and-gun-type play, completely losing the rich detail and claustrophobia that made Raccoon City such a unique place and turning it into... well, something resembling a real city, with streets wide enough for cars and buildings with sensibly broad corridors. That nightmarish quality was entirely lost.

Hopefully the Resident Evil 2 remake released this week will, amongst all its high definition upgraded gore, retain Raccoon City’s convoluted, unrealistic geography. The story of an apocalyptic event reducing an American city, the supposed apex of Western civilisation, to carnage and despair will always have a certain perverse appeal, and the fall of Raccoon City, in all its nightmarish eccentricity, is one of the greatest iterations of that story. Long may we keep being allowed to revisit it.

Resident Evil 2 is released for PS4, XBox One and Microsoft Windows on 25 January 2019.