Banditos! Banditos! Banditos!

Beowulf: The Game

That's Beowulf: The Game.  Don't get confused and walk out of Gamestop with Beowulf: The 1000 Year Old Anglo-Saxon Epic Poem, because I guarantee your PS3 can't read that shit.  So now you can dismember monsters and their moms in your very own home!  Hopefully you can play as Beowulf, not some new character inserted into the story named Rickywulf.  I also hope that was just some generic monster in the trailer and not Grendel or Grendel's mom, because it's not nearly tough enough.  It looks like a Weeble with claws.  It may as well be a tubercular tadpole feebly slapping Beowulf's toe with his tiny, moist fist.

I used to listen to Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf while driving at night.  It's great stuff.  Seamus Heaney's poems often have several really thick, meaty words balanced with a few bright, gleaming ones to create a certain kind of earthly music.  Beowulf was already a pretty juicy story, but Heaney makes it so chewy and clangy your jaw hurts and you might get metal poisoning.  Sometimes I would slow down in the fast lane so I could devote my full attention to his voice.  I liked to think that if I got in a wreck and had my arm lopped off it made more sense to do it to Beowulf than, say, Chumbawamba.  Because, odds are, I won't get up again.

You can see why Beowulf fits the gaming trends of today.  It's mythical and violent, like God of War, and I bet it appeals to the Ren Faire crowd as well.  However, the original story only has three actual fights, and the third one doesn't go so well.  Anything else you throw in there is filler.  And I can't imagine how they would deal with my favorite part of the text, the weird bits of advice on honor and manners.  "Always reward someone who does you a favor, and double rewards if they die."  "If someone kills a family member, hunt down their whole family and kill them, unless they pay you a lot of money."  They cleverly weave the advice into the tale via that old child-rearing trick: "Hrothgar always eats his vegetables, so you should too."  Stop comparing me to Hrothgar!  I'm not Hrothgar, all right?  And I never will be!  (Runs to room, sobbing, and slams the door)

Technorati Tags: Beowulf, Grendel, Seamus Heaney, God of War, games, tubercular tadpoles

Mess with the d'Urbervilles

That's Rose & Camellia, a game where you play a young woman of low birth who marries into a snooty aristocratic family.  But your husband dies right after the wedding, so to gain respect, you have to win a slap fight against every woman in the house.  Play it here.  Be warned, though!  This is the Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! of Victorian disagreement simulators, in that the final boss is ridiculously overpowered.  It's also like Punch-Out!! in that the evil sea hag at the end actually punches you, in the face, while your open palm daintily whiffs past the place she used to be.  You don't bring a fist to a slap fight.  It's indecorous.

I can't tell what happens at the end, so I'll make something up.  The aristocratic family learns to accept you, and never speak again of how you routed them all that one sporadically loud November day.  You lead a retiring life full of domestic hobbies, like fox hunting.  When a fox goes to ground, you wriggle into its burrow and slap every member of its family until it returns to the chase.  As an equestrian you have no equal.  You love horses because they have so much extra face.  And in the fullness of time, you remarry and have children, and soon no one can tell the new line of the family from the old, save for the boys' surprisingly flexible wrists and the girls' curious predilection for gloves.

Technorati Tags: games, Flash games, Rose & Camellia, slap fights, aristocracy, opening up Hand-ora's Box

True Tales of Guitar Hero Encore: Rocks the 80s

It dropped on Tuesday, with Civilization 4: Beyond the Sword, and I hit the store bright and early to purchase the hell out of them.  Target was out, but Gamestop had plenty.  They actually gave me a box from the pile of reserved games.  Made me feel special.  I had a bit of a row with the clerk over Guitar Hero 80s, which proceeded thusly:

(Oh, and I call myself "Tristram" in this dialogue, because that's how I remember it.  Subjectivity, you know.)

TRISTRAM:  Hullo!  I'd like to purchase this game.

CLERK:  OK, but you do know this game features rocking out, right?  It's only for rockers.

TRISTRAM:  Of course.  I know how to rock.

CLERK:  Yeah, we just have to ask that.  Sometimes kids get a hold of it and their parents come in later because their faces melted off from a blistering guitar solo and we have to buy them off with gift cards and gauze.

TRISTRAM:  Oh, I don't mind proving my skills.  Toss me that guitar.

CLERK:  Rock on!  [tosses me a guitar]

TRISTRAM:  No, not a real guitar.  What the hell are these wiry things on the neck?  Give me a HERO guitar.

CLERK:  Sorry, I didn't know you were up to that level.  [tosses me a plastic guitar, with fret buttons, like Hendrix used]

TRISTRAM:  Wheedly-do, deedly-yo, tweedilly tweedilly tweedilly reeeeeeowwww . . .  EEEOOOW.

CLERK:  Oh God!  That's insane!  I couldn't be rocked any harder by a nanny on steroids!  You've got hotter licks than an aardvark on fire!  My ears just came!

TRISTRAM:  I CAN'T STOP GET OUT OF HERE NOW

[Later, among the ambulances, fire trucks, and animal control vehicles, the CLERK recounts his terrifying experience.]

CLERK:  And I ran.  I ran so far awa-hu-yay.  I just ran.  I ran all night and day! . . . I couldn't get away.

REPORTER:  But what happened to Tristram?

CLERK:  He didn't make it.  No one can stare into the eye of awesome for that long without going mad himself.  Or at least getting carpal tunnel syndrome.  No, he's in Heaven right now, shredding with the angels, or in Hell, hitting the Devil's whammy bar.

REPORTER:  Or he could be in Purgatory.

CLERK:  Don't you see?  We're the ones in Purgatory, because try as we might, we'll never rock as hard as him.

Technorati Tags: Guitar Hero, Guitar Hero Encore, Rocks the 80s, slight exaggerations

How to Like Music

Upon clicking the equilateral triangle centered within this box, you shall view a musical video.  I can't say whether you should watch it or not.  A few not unrelated questions you may want to mull over before deciding:

• Do I like bright red cassocks?  With or without a crooning, whimsically dancing ethereal girl?
• Would I freak out if a monster appeared?  What about a monster made of felt and buttons found in the dumpster behind the Hobby Lobby?
• Am I satisfied with a small amount of yarn in a video or do I need Walkie Talkie Man amounts?
• How long can bangs be before they start to look like you flipped around a mullet?

That was Monster, from You Say Party! We Say Die!  I like it, because I made myself like it.  This is how that went down.  A while ago, I heard another song by them and thought it was pretty good.  I made a little note of the band's name, which wasn't necessary, because soon I was just thinking it as a little mental tic.  If I didn't like something (and I don't like much) I would yell, "You say party!  We say die!" internally, although externally I would just scowl.

A few weeks later I was compelled to download some new music, immediately.  That only happens when I'm impaired in some way.  This time, it was because I had gotten high from mixing cleaning supplies -- leftover paint thinner, Murphy's Oil Soap, that Nature's Miracle stuff (you know, for pet stains?), and I think cinnamon.  You Say Party! We Say Die! occurred to me because it was the only sentence I'd been thinking for the last couple hours, albeit very slowly.  So I downloaded their album Lose All Time but didn't listen to it until several days later when I remembered what I'd done.  I couldn't wait to hear it!

And I was disappointed.  It wasn't as fast, loud and exciting as I had expected.  The hooks weren't very catchy and the singing seemed off.  I had built it up so much that even a pretty good album couldn't satisfy me.  I wanted a mind-blowing experience like huffing exotic foreign chemicals and instead I got something akin to huffing common household chemicals.  Fun, but kind of familiar and boring.

But I don't take these things lying down.  When disappointment disappoints me, I disappoint disappointment!  I resolved then and there to not only appreciate YSP! WSD! for their abilities and accept their weaknesses, but to completely love them beyond all reason.  Only then would my music purchase be justified.  And I did it!  Here's how:

• Comparisons to other bands I like.  At first I went for broke and said they were like the Pixies.  They are not like the Pixies, not at all.  They might, maybe, be like Sleater Kinney, a little bit.  So I went with "they're like Sleater Kinney meets the Pixies."  And that's sort of true if, at that imaginary meeting, the Pixies had car trouble and didn't show up.
• Antedated nostalgia.  I reminisced about the high points of my young life and convinced myself that I had been listening to YSP! WSD! at the time.  In fact, I had been yelling, "You say party!  We say die!" at the top of my lungs.  I had to re-work many details because in reality, yelling that would have significantly truncated a lot of my favorite experiences.  Although there are a couple where it might have further enhanced the scene, which would have been awesome.
• Elitism.  I developed a hatred of all the other fans, who must be out there somewhere.  I knew them way back when.  Way back when I first heard of them.  I hope they get really big so I have more people to hate.
• Huffing exotic foreign chemicals while listening to them.  That's a no-brainer.
• Finally, judging people based on their opinion of the band.  I subtly work it into conversation whenever someone says the word, "you."  I quickly interject with, "-saypartywesaydie?"  And when they respond with, "What?" I continue with, "issogoodaboutthem?  Well, they're just the best band of all time.  I'm surprised you didn't know that.  You must not like music.  Well, music doesn't care if you like it.  But I've shown you the way, and now you have to make a choice.  I'll call you out right now.  I'm saying Party, you son of a bitch.  What are you gonna say?"

And it worked!  It worked buckets!  I can't tell you any more about this band, because I feel really strongly about them and I don't want to cheapen their beauty with my pathetic words.  I'll leave you with the Walkie Talkie Man video, which I like because it has some yarn, which reminds me a little of You Say Party! We Say Die!, although of course they are far superior in every way.  And now that you've heard of them, I strongly suggest that you immediately learn to love them, although you will never love them as much as I do, you poser.

Technorati Tags: music, You Say Party! We Say Die!, Monster, Lose All Time, the very best band ever, Steriogram, Walkie Talkie Man, dance-punk, I said DANCE PUNK

Silver Sprung

 Silver Spring, MD is within the Beltway but outside the boundaries of D.C. proper.  If you're talking to someone from another state, you can say you live in D.C., because otherwise all they hear is Maryland and they'll think you live in the Chesapeake Bay with the blue crabs and friendly seagulls braiding your hair.  But to someone who actually lives in D.C., it doesn't count.  Whole swaths of the District of Columbia don't actually count as D.C.  This happens when you don't let people vote.  Voting is like shitting -- it's just something you have to do once in a while or you start complaining that the adjacent neighborhood is illegitimate.  Hm, that simile got a bit out of control.

Back to Silver Spring.  A few years ago the downtown area was completely rebuilt with new roads, new stores, theaters, office buildings, and free WiFi.  It doesn't look anything like the old downtown anymore.  The Discovery Channel moved its headquarters there and during Shark Week a huge ferocious shark loomed over the town, sticking out of both sides of the building.  Or it could have been a coincidence because I hear building-eating sharks are attracted to free WiFi.  That's not even the weirdest change.  Ellsworth Drive was closed to traffic and turned into some kind of high-tech Main Street with a fountain, a cobblestone street, and an open Astroturf field for events and picnics.  It's like a movie set -- sort of cheerfully unreal.  See, that's how you do a simile.  The earlier one was like a piece of shit, because it was shitty.

Downtown Silver Spring is also crawling with hidden cameras and mall cops.  A real estate developer called The Peterson Companies spent $300 million to renovate it along with $100 million put up by Montgomery County.  I've heard that the downtown itself was actually sold to Peterson for $1, but that might not be true.  It's a good story, though.  It is true that although it looks like a public street, Peterson considers Ellsworth Drive private property. In June, Chip Py, a Silver Spring resident and amateur photographer, was taking pictures of the skyline, when a guard popped out of nowhere and told him photography is forbidden.

To make a long story short, DCist picked up the story, as did DC Metblogs, which organized a July 4 protest where photographers walked around Silver Spring taking photos in public.  As far as I know, no one was arrested, which makes sense because it's not illegal and the uniformed guys in Silver Spring aren't really cops.  It would be like the guy from the Village People arresting you for not dancing hard enough.  (A decent simile, not too flashy, and something we've all experienced.)  The response from Peterson Cos. (from Silver Spring Scene):

“We Welcome photography, videography and other filming at our Center. We permit all of these activities , as our patrons and tenants are neither harassed nor photographed or filmed over their objection. Also, any activity which would interfere with pedestrian or vehicular movement requires advance management approval. We continue to encourage patrons to report inappropriate behavior to police and security personnel. We reserve the right to modify this and other policies.”

Well, that seems fair.  I like the bit at the end where they reserve the right to change their minds.  That shows how open minded they are.  I'm not sure how I feel about this story.  On the one hand, based on their actions and public statements, these guys are a bunch of sneaky weaselsnakes.  And even though I hate having my picture taken, I can't imagine that buildings get too upset about it, and some good photos have come from this movement.  On the other hand, it looks like the county granted an easement on one half of Ellsworth Drive, which would give Peterson some legal authority to be rude and harass people in limited ways.  And I dearly love easements.  When I first started reading Anthony Trollope, I knew he was something special when easements came into the picture.  It's like the land has rights.  Property rights for property.  Wicked cool.

An easement is like passing out in a field and waking up to find baby bunnies cooking you breakfast.  One bunny squeezes fresh oranges into a cup while two work together pushing a wooden spoon around a big bowl of batter.  Another cranks up a generator for the waffle iron.  Soon you will have fresh dandelion waffles with carrot jam.  While you wait, would you care for a relaxing alfalfa facial scrub?  Yes.  Yes, you would.

Technorati Tags: Silver Spring, Ellsworth Drive, photography, public spaces, mall cops, similies, bunnies

Titan Quest, or You'll Pay For That!

Titan Quest isn't the most original game in the world.  It's a Diablo clone released long after the end of the Diablo clone war.  That was after the Myst clone war but before the GTA clone war, and by now I'm not even sure what war we're fighting now.  Brain Age?  Katamari?  All those innocent games, copied before their time.  Senseless.  At least with Titan Quest, developer Iron Lore waited to cash in on the craze, and ended up with a highly polished, streamlined take on the "click on monsters until they die" genre.  And did Blizzard really invent that genre after all?  Diablo had kind of a generic medieval setting, while Titan Quest takes place in Greek mythology, which actually predates medieval times.  I smell a lawsuit! 

(Figuratively.  If anyone out there is tragically afflicted with the ability to physically smell lawsuits, I'm not mocking you and I apologize for being so litigious in the past.  It's just that I thought Ronald McDonald was spitting in my food.  I later discovered that everyone else's burgers taste like that, too.)

In college, everyone I knew played Diablo.  On average, that is -- I knew plenty of people who didn't, but the ones who did played it so much that they wrecked the curve.  If you're easily addicted to things, or -- and this is an important distinction -- you just like doing things over and over without being able to stop, Diablo was a great warm up for Blizzard's later project, World of Warcraft.  I've never played it but I hear it's maybe a little addictive.  Of course, with any game there's a fine line between "addictive" and simply "extra fun."  All good games entertain or satisfy in some way, and some aim for many hours of good, decent fun rather than a few hours of unforgettable joy.  My problem with World of Warcraft, and all MMOs, is the monthly fee.  I want to pay for something and be done with it.  I like buying games, not paying for services.  One of these things is not like the others: water, gas, electricity, Internet, whomping on orcs with your magical sword.  Yes, I consider Internet access a basic necessity, and no, you may not try to make a case for your magical sword.  Also, I do not want to see your magical sword, and no, I am not just jealous.

I pulled Titan Quest down to my box using Steam, a digital distribution platform without monthly fees, which makes all the difference.  Free online game services are Full of Terrific Wonderment, a phrase you sometimes see on forums as the acronym FTW.  It's on sale until tomorrow for $18, and with high speed it's an easy download.  Steam started out horribly buggy, but now it's the best service out there, closely followed by GameTap, which has kind of a screwy business model but a slew of wonderful old and new adventure games.  That's the future should look: on-demand downloads, wireless access everywhere, and nobody charging little fees on top of it.  It's been established many times that gamers will put up with little fees, or as they call them, "microtransactions," but that doesn't mean it's right.  Gamers also put up with Sonic the Hedgehog for years as he got slower and dumber, when they should have slapped that spiky blue betrayer so hard that rings fly out of his ass.

I'm fine with the Wii approach, which focuses on games as a physical action in the real world.  But as a work of fiction, most of a game takes place in your head.  It doesn't really exist.  So they shouldn't be tied to one disc, one console, one gas and time wasting trip to the store, where you end up punching some twelve year old until they drop the one available copy.  And you shouldn't be charged again for the time you spend playing.  It's silly and a little rude to monetize fiction to that extent.  It's like making people pay for the morning dew, or a gentle breeze, or the innocent laughter of a child.  Or all three for one low rate.  Holy shit, I just came up with a brilliant idea.

Technorati Tags: Titan Quest, Diablo, Steam, GameTap, monthly fees

Phone in Friday: Menu Items

Pan Seared Shrieking Rodent

Arugula and Goat Cheese Salad with Goat Dressing and Toasted Goatons

Beer Battered Fish Sticks  (Our chef got drunk and beat the shit out of a fish stick)

Forest Grown Chantarelles, Sun Dried Tomatoes and Body Heat Activated Pasta

Alaskan Snow Crab on a Bed of Sig Hansen's Dead Friends

Arroz con Pollo con Queso con Llaves con Pendejo

800 Sharp, Tiny Bones Lightly Dusted with Fish

(Bargain Price!)  Imperfectly Peeled Potatoes Bathed in Orphan's Tears

Mom's Famous Guilt Cobbler

Habanero Juice in Your Eye (Spicy.  Milder chiles available on request.)

Pissaladière Seasoned with Herbes de Provence and You Know What, Just Move to Provence, Motherfucker

A Single, Perfectly Roasted Whale

"Water"

Broken Glass and Tin Foil but Wait!  It's Covered in Saffron!  Eh?  Eh?

Comes with a Shot of Vodka and Let's Leave It at That

Technorati Tags: Friday, Phone in Friday, Food

Harry Potter and the [Joke goes here]

I'm sick of Harry Potter.  I've read all the previous books but I want to skip this one.  If I ever want to know what "finally" happens to Harry and his cheesy magical world, I can find out without reading 784 pages of characters dying, characters almost dying, characters dying and coming back, and characters caring about other characters, who promptly die.  Once you stop caring about the plot, there's no going back, because the prose sure as hell can't hold your interest.

My new favorite example of J.K. Rowling's style, from Nicholas Lezard in The Guardian:

Here, from page 324 of The Order of the Phoenix, to give you a typical example, are six consecutive descriptions of the way people speak. "...said Snape maliciously," "... said Harry furiously", " ... he said glumly", "... said Hermione severely", "... said Ron indignantly", " ... said Hermione loftily". Do I need to explain why that is such second-rate writing?

 You have to turn off your brain when you read Harry Potter.  I think that's why readers get hooked on the plot, because they're already numbed by the repetition and clichés.  After around the third book, even the plot started repeating itself, and we had to settle for the same old school year with the same easily-solved mysteries and interchangeable villains.  To be fair, these are children's books.  Children like repetition and need a lot of adverbs to explain how characters feel.  On the other hand, children also like giving each other purple nurples and after six of those you can see how I might be reluctant to receive a seventh.

My favorite part of Harry Potter has always been the fonts.  When Harry receives a letter, you'll actually see the letterhead and signature.  Newspaper articles and posters appear in news type, with big headers.  Sometimes there's even a little wax seal!  It's always a delightful surprise.  It feels like someone suddenly popped a piece of candy in my mouth.  Still, that's the only pleasure that sticks with me after reading all those pages, because the writing itself is just an artless series of instructions.  Harry does this, says that, and this new character or setting looks like that familiar fantasy image.  You don't even need to write a separate script for the movie adaptation -- there's nothing to adapt.  That's why the first couple of movies just let Chris Columbus expecto his patronum all over the screen, if you know what I mean.

Let's play our own game with a copy of Order of the Phoenix.  I'll select a page at random and show you the most clichéd part, adding a word or two from one of the many works of Harry Potter fan fiction here on the web.  Can you find them all?

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long, turgid, glistening beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate -- for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long, engorged tables were groaning under joints of and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, dildos, and flagons of pumpkin juice.

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately about the heaving, thrusting dungeon.  His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark gray steam; Ron's was in a passionate embrace spitting green sparks.  Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out.  They all collapsed in a tangled heap of exhausted flesh.

Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze.  The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flower bed, masturbating.

Technorati Tags: Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, writing, parody, nonprofit use of brief quotes for purposes of parody, which is OK

Suicide Food

Suicide Food features disturbing warped advertisements for meat products where the animals cheerfully exhort you to eat them.  Ben from Seattle, who provides commentary, also has at least four other specialized blogs.  The comments are fun but a bit masochistic because I'm pretty sure he's a vegetarian.  Nowadays I only avoid certain types of meat (foie gras, overfished seafood, roadkill) but I was also a vegetarian for a couple of years and just thinking about meat used to make me feel ill.  That kicks in after just a few months.  Any type of meat cooked any way somehow becomes the most nauseating smell in the world.  That doesn't happen with other foods.  No one gives up carrots and suddenly gets all Little Albert about the color orange.  "Ugh, carrots.  Those grow in the ground, with the worms.  What are you drinking, orange juice?  Huuurrrgh!"

Turn OFF the sound on this video before playing.  It's loud and even more annoying than the green title screens.  It's the only video I could find of the experiment, which is sooo adorable. 

Fun Fact: in 1920, a common child rearing practice was to bring all sorts of objects from the outside world to your baby, because it's never seen anything before.  So at around six months old, you would show it everything in the world, listed alphabetically.  Your house would have one aardvark, one anvil, one ampersand, someone with an astigmatism, an axe, etc.  Now we just show babies picture books but back then parents' garages looked like Noah's Ark if God had been some kind of fucking moron who thought inanimate objects reproduced asexually.

Technorati Tags: Suicide Foods, Little Albert, John Watson, Noah's Ark, Idiot OCD God

Debating "de Blob"

This video is longer than a 21st century attention span, so feel free to stop watching once you get the idea.

The upcoming De Blob (which supposedly has a lower case "d," but it's a video game, not e. e. cummings) combines the OCD-like goal of touching everything in the world with the anarchic method of splattering paint with every step.  Of course, when you see a rolling ball and an entire world that needs to be transformed, what's your first game reference?  Katamari Damacy, of course, such familiar words by now that I'm surprised my spell check noticed them.  I assume that's a good way to get a game made nowadays, compare it to Katamari.  If your game is about doing ketamine in a catamaran until you develop a caramel catarrh, that's probably close enough.  Just throw in some stealth action and bullet time.

Looks fun, especially jumping from wall to wall, but why does the character need to be a blob?  Just because it looks cool?  Can't a solid character do all that stuff in video game reality?  In Super Mario Sunshine, Mario flew around and wall jumped while spraying water which cleaned off the environment and restored color.  The blob barely changes form at all, which strikes me as a sad waste of, you know, gelatinousness.  Why can't it stretch out into a rope, or ooze under a door, or break into little pieces and then reform?  Even if that's not the point of the game, why isn't there a game like that?  You'll never see a critique like this anywhere else -- to summarize, I am complaining that this unreleased game disappoints me because another game that would be cooler does not exist.  Welcome to the way I think.

One game that comes close is Gish, a well-liked 2005 indie game.  It features an oily black blob who overcomes obstacles and defeats enemies through a realistic 2-D physics system.  Gish can make himself heavy, sticky, or extra slippery and easily compressed.  He can also hop a tiny bit, or more if he builds momentum.  You have to see it in action to see how frustrating but ultimately satisfying it is to solve all kinds of puzzles using the laws of physics and a ball of goo.  If it looks confusing, remember that he becomes sticky at will, and when he grits his teeth, he's making himself heavier.  This doesn't work in real life.

My ideal blob game (I spent much of last week thinking about this) is a combination of Gish and the 1989 NES game A Boy and His Blob.  In that one, you collect jellybeans which transform your pet blob (named Blobert) into different useful objects.  Feed him a licorice bean, and he becomes a ladder.  Vanilla = umbrella, cinnamon = blowtorch, and so on.  It's self-explanatory.  Here's a seven minute speed run, which shows that A Boy and His Blob is winnable, a proposition that was not definitively proven until 2003.  Damn, that game was hard.  While watching this video, the power of nostalgia caused an NES controller to appear in my hand and I immediately broke it.

So what have we learned from this exploration of blob games and embedded video?

1. Nothing.
2. Were we supposed to learn something?
3. Whoops!  My bad!

If you've gotten this far, I appreciate it and can only assume that you like blobs, too.  We're kindred souls!  If you have any questions or corrections about blobs, or if you just want to "blob rap," feel free to join in the conversation.  I can also write about non-blob topics on occasion.  I know a lot about politics and have many insightful and snarky political opinions and stuff.  An example: On this page, you can submit a question to Barney, George W. Bush's dog.  Actual White House staffers take time to reply, and some poor schmuck pretending to be Barney has to type "Woof!  Bark!  Aroo!"   Discuss:

1. As the questions go on, "Barney" becomes less and less coherent and begins laughing hysterically in all caps.
2. The last question answered was in November 2004.  What happened?
3. Miss Beazley, the female dog, has almost no web presence.
4. We know a dog can't answer mail.  They know we know.  Why keep up the pretense?
5. Is it perhaps a metaphor?
6. How great would it be if instead of some dumb Scottish Terriers, there were pet blobs oozing around the White House?
7. Whoops!  My bad!

Technorati Tags: blobs, de Blob, Gish, A Boy and His Blob, politics, more blobs

Bent Objects

Bent Objects are household items augmented with bent wires by this guy Terry in Indianapolis.  It's weird and compelling even to someone like me who knows nothing about crafty type stuff.  I really liked this matchbox scene, so I stole the image, but I'm willing to return it if threatened.  This guy knows his way around a pair of wire cutters.

See how many discrete mental steps you take when looking at these things.  I first notice the objects, then I start to personify them as my brain figures out what the wires represent.  Then after a slight delay something usually clicks and I understand the action being performed in the scene, and what it means.  For example, if it's a visual pun, I actually have to go through two steps before I "get it."  I guess I'm either very methodical or not very bright.  Let's say methodical.

Technorati Tags: Bent Objects

Girls, Violent Games, and Feminism

The F-Word blog (safe for work, and if your work filter blocks it, I'm sorry to say that your work filter is kind of dumb) posted yesterday about a study showing that teenage girls play violent video games, such as Grand Theft Auto.  Well, of course they do.  No one who actually plays games thinks that the female hand is only capable of moving a mouse or controller when it's connected to the Sims or, say, Barbie's Demure Adventures starring Princess Kitchen Pony.  I expect, however, that if this gets picked up as a news item it will be yet another terrifying look at our out-of-control kids.  Hooray for equality: boys and girls are all ticking time bombs.  The only non-dangerous family member left is Grandpa, because he and the rest of the Greatest Generation already got their kill on and now they just want a nap and free samples at the Costco.

The F-Word's generally fair analysis of the story gets a bit muddled in this last paragraph:

I’m not a believer in the idea that playing a violent video game makes people want to go out and commit violent acts: but I do think it’s problematic that one of the most popular games played by both girls and boys involves the male protagonist using, beating, pimping and killing prostitutes.

That's technically correct (the best kind of correct!) but a little misleading.  As a Grand Theft Auto player, this is one of my pet peeves.  Every "violent games" GTA story always mentions killing a prostitute, which is possible in the game but not particularly encouraged.  The only thing you get from killing a prostitute is a worthless amount of cash, the same amount you can get from any random pedestrian.  "Using" them is a transaction of a few dollars for a small health boost.  Beating them offers no reward, and like all violent acts, if a cop sees you do it, they pursue you and try to throw you in jail, which is a very significant deterrent.  You will get some minor funds from being a pimp, which involves driving prostitutes around and killing guys who threaten them.  However, in terms of gameplay it's no different from being a taxi driver, ambulance driver, "freelance police officer," or fireman, all of which are equally encouraged, which is to say that you can do it, but rather than saying the game involves driving an ambulance and saving lives, I would say it includes that feature.  GTA definitely involves carjacking -- anyone who says you don't have to jack cars is correct but being cute with logic.  But every single news outlet appears to have a pronunciation guide which proscribes using "Grand Theft AW-to . . . prostitute killing sex money death murder hooker game."  (To anyone who got to this paragraph via Google -- boring, huh?  The real hardcore stuff is here.)

I'm too mature, intelligent, and good looking to enjoy every single aspect of GTA.  I don't kill prostitutes, and I only pick them up if I need the health boost.  Some of the humor is hilariously clever, but some of it makes me cringe with its self-conscious edginess that only titillates teenage boys anymore (and girls, apparently.)  My favorite activity is driving the taxi and listening to the radio while being chased by the cops.  I love that fares will still get in your cab and even tip generously as police helicopters shout and shoot at you.  Combine that with a sunny Miami-like 1980s cityscape, Wang Chung's "Dance Hall Days," and, um, maybe some tequila, and you've got a recipe for awesome.  Sometimes the game influences me to be awesome in real life, but as an adult I can resist that urge.

Recently, while playing GTA: Vice City Stories, I ended up on a mission to protect some prostitutes who were being targeted by a rival gang.  I had to grab a car and quickly pick them up around town, while the gang cars tried to run me down.  When I saved the first prostitute, just in time, she thanked me, then leaned out the window and started firing a powerful semiautomatic at our pursuers.  "Well honey," she said, "you didn't think the only protection we have is rubbers, did you?"  Those damn gang cars were really killing me but once I had three prostitutes in the car firing back at them it became a glorious, chaotic high speed chase, with enemy cars exploding into flames and flying through the air -- the best moment in the game so far.  And I couldn't have done it without prostitutes.  Bless their hearts of gold and diamond trigger fingers.

Technorati Tags: The F Word, feminism, GTA, Grand Theft Auto, Vice City, prostitutes, Wang Chung, being awesome

Phone In Friday: Faint Praise

"There is no one else quite like you.  In fact, I'm surprised there's a you."

"You've raised some interesting points, here in my head, while I was pretending to listen."

"I admire your ability to spread out your shortcomings so no single defect comes to define you."

"While I may not agree with your position, I respect your ability to voice your opinion without laughing."

"You looked beautiful out there tonight."  (Paula Abdul)

"It's always great to get a call from you, because I like to make sure you're nowhere nearby."

"Look at you!  Just look at you, now . . .  Do that.  Look at yourself.  Do nothing else.  Ever."

"I've learned so much from you, mostly via avoidance conditioning."

"I hate you less now."

"I respect the jury's verdict, but I have concluded that the prison sentence given to you is excessive. Therefore, I am commuting the portion of your sentence that requires you to spend thirty months in prison."

Technorati Tags: Friday, phone in Friday, faint praise

Soul Caribou 3

Soul Calibur 4 is coming, and as preparation, I started playing Soul Calibur 3.  Sure, I suck at Soul Calibur 2, but there are some subtle changes that I need to understand if I'm really going to suck at Soul Calibur 3.  And when the new one comes out, I'm not even going to use a controller.  I'll just slap at the screen making hooting noises.

I started playing with Tira, because she's new and fast.  No defense to speak of, but I never actually guard against attacks.  I just attack over and over and if I get hit, I try to recover or accuse the other player of cheap moves.  Tira wields some crazy metal hula hoop that's sharp on both sides, and it's the coolest thing when I manage to get a hit in with it.  I love the hula hoop!  Swords bore me.  I want to go back to a simpler time of sock hops and decapitations.

My training regimen:  I play Tira for several rounds in a duel to the death with Ivy.  (That's Ivy on the right.)  Then I play Ivy against Tira, so I can get inside Ivy's head, figure out what makes her tick.  Then I change them into different outfits, in case it matters, and back to playing Tira.  Sometimes I wish they could hash out their differences once and for all, though.  If I were there, I could defeat them in battle but then propose some kind of truce in which we all work together towards a common goal.  I have some other ideas about that.

Brainstorming about such scenarios improves your visualization abilities, which helps you think up new combo attacks and be a better Soul Calibur player.  You can't do it with every fighting game, though.  If you find yourself doing it in Super Smash Bros. Melee, well, I'm not saying it's wrong, but I don't want to play with you or hear one word about Link-Bowser action.  Also, it's wrong.  Ew.

 

Technorati Tags: Soul Calibur, Tira, Ivy, Super Smash Bros, visualization, subtlety

Cry Me a Nasty River

Oh, boo hoo.  So D.C. tap water tastes and smells funny this week.  And now D.C., Falls Church and Arlington residents have harassed the Washington Aqueduct into doing something about it, just because that's their job.  Is water really that important to you people?  Why don't you find something else to be 60 to 70% made of?  Because right now you're like 95% complaining and 5% oh, look at me, I'm dehydrated, waaah.

So your water tastes "musty".  What a bunch of glass half-empty seers.  Why not say it tastes "historic"?  In Washington, D.C. our water tastes like something George Washington himself might take a sip of and die from.  Do you want to down a glass and barely notice it or do you want history to come alive in your mouth and bowels?  Say, is that Molly Pitcher at the Battle of Monmouth, bringing a cool jug of Holy shit it's the British!  Well, not really, but for a second there, you believed.

The Aqueduct's engineers have explained that higher temperatures and low water levels have caused an algae bloom in the Potomac.  That's why it smells like aquarium water.  Well, who couldn't use more algae in their diet, and who doesn't love an aquarium?  (Actually, if you love your aquarium, don't grow a lot of algae in it because it sucks up all the available oxygen.)  We could all learn something from the simple fish, who never complain or call the D.C. Water and Sewer Authority at (202) 612-3400.  Next time you see a Potomac fish, thank him for his stoic example.  (Sometimes it's hard to tell if it's a "him" because male bass in the Potomac have started laying eggs.  Use gender-neutral language.)

 You people should be grateful that you have clean, safe water at all.  And if, in fact, you don't, you should still be grateful.  You know what?  Stay grateful until further notice.  Maybe the Water and Sewer Authority doesn't immediately comply with the EPA, but usually they eventually comply, in their hearts.  And if they can't meet EPA standards, there are ways to adjust EPA standards so they're not so uptight and standardized.  Tired of rising gas prices?  Someday you may turn on your tap and get a stream of something your car can run on -- and it can make old silver look like new!

Finally, remember that clean drinking water is not some kind of goddamn human right.  If you don't like paying DC WASA's rates, you're welcome to buy bottled water, which is harvested from unicorn tears by translucent pixies in Magical Bumblebee Valley.  Oh, that's too expensive and pointless for you?  Well, just wait a couple days and the Aqueduct should get it under control.  But once it's gone, folks will cry about how they want just one more pungent, viscous, delicious sip of old fashioned D.C. stank water.

Technorati Tags: Washington, DC, water, musty water, WASA, EPA, Molly Pitcher, small mouth bass, instant iced tea

Game Fixer: Apollo Justice

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney told the story of Phoenix Wright, a rookie defense attorney who never gives up.  In Japan, his name is Naruhodo Ryuichi, and Naruhodo is a pun on "I see".  The English translators named him Phoenix, because in court he "rises from the ashes" when it looks like all hope is lost, and Wright because, I don't know, he fights for what's right?  His friends call him Nick and make puns on the name Wright.  The game has great characters, a crazy plot, fun mysteries, and exciting courtroom drama.  I can't praise it enough.

The second game, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney -- Justice for All, had both a colon and a hyphen, a stone cold guarantee of awesomeness.  I liked it almost as much as the first one, and there was a bit at the end that really got to me emotionally.  The third game, which hasn't been translated yet, will be called Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney -- Trials and Tribulations, and is the final chapter of Phoenix's life story.  But in Japan, the Ace Attorney series of games has already continued with a game about Phoenix's successor, Apollo Justice.

Yeah.  Apollo Justice.  Yuck.

Maybe I just got used to Phoenix Wright, but Apollo Justice sounds awkward and dumb.  I assume he likes justice?  And Apollo corresponds to the mythology guy?  Honestly, I don't remember anything Apollo did.  Americans know what a phoenix is, but I don't think they respond much to the name Apollo.  Let's try some alternatives:

Hercules Equality: Ace Attorney

Hermes Due Process

Ulysses F. Airness

Theseus P. "The Right Thing" ToDo

Procrustes Jurisprudence

(That actually almost means something so try the more subtle alternative: Crusty J. Prudence, Attorney at Law)

See?  That was just off the top of my head, and I don't even know the original Japanese name.  Also, I'm not very bright.  And, I've had a bit to drink.  So the sober, Japanese-knowing, non-idiot translators at Capcom should have no problem coming up with something even better.  Come on, folks!  Apollo Justice?  OBJECTION.

Technorati Tags: Apollo Justice, Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney, fixing games

Children's Poet Laureate -- For Kids!

I'll write more about this another time, but I wanted to show you Jack Prelutsky, who the Poetry Foundation named America's first Children's Poet Laureate in September.  $25,000.  That's some serious dough.  I bet I could write some decent poetry for kids.  Tell me, who do I have to blow around here to become Children's Poet Laureate?  Just kidding -- I know that's not how it works.

He seems like a nice fellow, and I have nothing bad to say about his stuff or children's poetry in this post.  (In another post I will totally lay into those damn children and their poetry.)  And he looks pleasant and friendly, like a low-carb Santa.  That's the kind of face you want for a Children's Poet Laureate.

But what about . . .  

THIS GUY!  Michael Rosen, Children's Poet Laureate for the U.K.  Graargh!  Author of A Child's Garden of Terror featuring this gem:

I'm nobody!  Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell

The Ichor Demons trapped in Hell.

 

How dreary to be Somebody!

How public, like a kitten

Perhaps the one I sacrificed

As tomes of bone were written.

I'm just joshin' ya, Michael Rosen.  You just look a little sinister in that pic.  You're a nice man and a good poet and I'm impressed that you found time to write when you're not teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.  That poem was actually written by Emily Dickinson, the Belle of Amherst, who lies peacefully in her grave, for now.  I used to visit it pretty often just to make sure.  Sometimes she got halfway out but I would read her some of my poetry which helped her fall back asleep.

 

Technorati Tags: poetry, Poetry Foundation, Jack Prelutsky, Michael Rosen, Children's Poet Laureate, Emily Dickinson, sacrificial kittens

(The banditos stole photos and whatnot from here -- good article, good blog, but not mean or slanderous enough)

Save the Trauma for Yo Mauma

Atlus just announced Trauma Center: New Blood for the Wii.  (From Famitsu, which I can't read, and Joystiq, which I can barely decipher amidst the ads and forum junk.)  I played the DS Trauma Center and a little bit of Second Opinion on the Wii, and it turns out I'm the kind of surgeon who would have to say, "We did all we could," a whole lot.  Or maybe I would walk out there with a kidney in one hand and some intestines in the other and shrug.

But Trauma Center: New Blood will have co-operative multiplayer.  That means I can limp through the operation by relying on someone else's superior abilities!  Co-op multi seems to be coming back into fashion.  Guitar Hero has it, a lot of Live Arcade games have it, and the new crop of Half-Life mods has some gems like Left 4 Dead, where you and a couple friends try to survive an onslaught of zombies.  I think it comes out this summer.  It's supposed to be brutally difficult but if you all work together a couple of you might make it out alive.  If you screw up in Guitar Hero your friends are not eaten by zombies but maybe in the '80s version their hair catches on fire.

In the best co-op games, you're forced to rely upon your partners, which works for a while until one of you does something stupid.  And that's when you learn the truth about your friendship.  I like it when you and your friends are up against the game, rather than another team of human players.  That just feels like the least athletic sport in the world.  I don't want to be stitching up a wound while some competitive asshole chants, "Choke!  Choke!"  I am a healer.  I took an oath to fix busted-up bones and stuff, and I will not be distracted by the likes of you.  If you persist in these juvenile antics, I shall have no choice but to -- great.  I lost another one.  I hope you're happy.  Very unprofessional of you, RabidIceWeasel420.

Technorati Tags: Trauma Center, Trauma Center: New Blood, co-op, multiplayer, Guitar Hero, Left 4 Dead, surgery trash talk

An Open Letter to the Cops

I'm terribly sorry but I must decline your invitation to participate in this murder investigation.  I really would like to come down to the station and answer a few questions, but my schedule is crazy right now.  I was so looking forward to sitting at the little desk, being offered water, coffee, and cigarettes by the good cop, as well as being insulted and slapped around by the less than optimal cop.  I'm sure this brilliant and perplexing murder seems unsolvable to you, but keep at it, guys -- you'll just have to work around my testimony because I have a thing.  If it helps, here's what I was going to say.

• How dare you.  Do you know who I am?  I'm an important society guy.  I could buy you a million times over this very moment, but I won't, because I respect the uniform and it's a seller's market.
• I have never heard of that guy.  Did you make up that name?  It sounds made up.
• A photo?  Oh, that guy.  I think I saw him in an online video -- something about Mentos?
• Yes, he's my business partner.  You didn't let me finish.  He was in an online video, because we made one to promote our joint venture.  I guess it wasn't Mentos, it was equity indexed annuities.
• How dare you.  I loved him like a brother!  I'd rather murder a hundred people than harm a hair on his head.
• In Jewish culture, we threaten people's lives all the time.  It's a sign of affection.  "Hey, friend!  Watch your back, 'cause I'm coming for you!  Mazel tov!"  See?
• Allow me to answer your question with another question:  When you black out, do you keep track of everywhere you go and everything you do?  Or do you just go with it?
• Yeah, I bet you get a lot of cleaning ladies in here claiming they "saw everything."  Would you trust someone who promised not to tell something and then broke that promise?
• If, hypothetically, I were going to kill him, let us assume that I would not want to leave a bunch of evidence.  But by your own admission, you found a bunch of evidence at the scene.  Therefore, I did not commit this murder.  Q.E.D.
• You guys just love your DNA evidence, don't you?  Did you ever consider that I might be having an affair with every piece of furniture in that room?  Does that offend your bourgeois morality?
• Even if I were guilty,  which I'm not, you'd never prove it . . . wait, are you planning to actually use all that evidence?  I thought it was like a visual aid!  Wow, where do you even store all that evidence?  Even the leaky bits?
• So maybe I killed him, but can you blame me?  He was unpleasant.  And I disliked him!  What would you do?
• What you have to realize is that . . . the thing is . . . SO LONG, SUCKERS!
• Hm.  Locked.
• So, hey, um, I demand to see a lawyer.

 

Technorati Tags: cops, murder, Jerry Orbach, hot dogs, confessions

Interview: Coal Mine Canary

Q:  I'm very honored to be here in the coal mine with the beautiful and talented Coal Mine Canary.  So, Coal Mine Canary, how are you today?

A:  Why does everyone keep asking that?

 

Technorati Tags: ba dum bump shhh

Passive-Aggressive Notes

I just learned about Passive Aggressive Notes, although I'm sure I'm way behind the Internet curve on this as usual.  I have heard of Post Secret, but it seems like the folks who send in those postcards have some issues.  Have you noticed that?  I bet mailboxes get shivers and bouts of sobbing all day long when someone slips a Post Secret card in them.  As I've always said, it's not a hot idea to have problems or issues, but if your heart is set on it, at least vent a little so you don't explode.  And the best way to vent is to destroy a mailbox -- emotionally, not physically.  Physically destroying mailboxes is tacky.

Back to Passive Aggressive Notes.  I wanted to try my hand at one, but I wasn't sure who to abuse.  So I wrote this and stuck it to my aquarium.

TO ALL FISH (THIS MEANS YOU!)

FROM:  ME.  THE GUY WHO FEEDS YOU (REMEMBER?????)

RE:  just read the note, I'm not trying to tell you what to do but you owe me this!!

OK, so, the sanitation thing.  You're peeing in the water.  I don't want to name names, and I don't have to, because every single one of you does it.  Have you ever seen me pee in your water?  No.  Because I use the toilet.  I do that every time.  Yeah, sometimes, in the middle of the night, I look over at the tank and think, why not?  What's the harm?  But then I just stagger out to the bathroom.  It's called being civilized.

When I go to the ocean, I don't pee in the ocean, because I respect fish.  Sure, it's a big ocean, but I can't get over the idea that as I start to let loose, there might be a baby shark passing by just in time to get a faceful.  And that shark will be traumatized and grow up to be a killer.  Virtually every single shark attack can be traced back to a human whizzing on a baby shark during its formative years.

We all urinate, and we all have to live on this Earth together.  But some of us ca