Tonight my "Assassin" looked at the Quest Table in the Heroes Guild and there was just one Quest available. Last night I'd seen that quest and taken it to be the opposite of the one I actually took, which was to free some Trader hostages from the Bandits' camp. That would be the same camp which I'd just infiltrated in order to talk to the mysterious Seeress, who was rumored to have information on my long ago abducted sister.
*LONG SPOILER*
Once I got inside the Bandit camp it turned out that the Seeress didn't just have information on my sister, she was my sister. Apparently our mother was a powerful Hero and both Sis and I inherited our powers from her. In Sis's case, because she dared to defy the Bandits and silently stared at them, refusing to answer their questions, they cut her eyes out and left her for dead. She was found by another group of bandits and taken in by them, and when her injuries had healed it was discovered that with the distraction of visual sight gone, Sis's ability to see the future had emerged. Because I was a Hero the Bandit Chief challenged me to a duel, and I soundly defeated him, but as he stood there gasping, he pitifully begged for his life. I listened to his appeal, "Please, spare me. The bandits will never follow me now. Isn't that punishment enough?"
I looked around at the circle of bandits whose flashing blades I'd seen behind me, more than once, as I'd dodged their Chief's own blades during our earlier duel. "Please, spare me." I heard the Chief say again. I backed up into the entrance of his tent, drew my crossbow, took aim, and dispatched the nearest bandit. Perhaps fearing he'd be next (and he was right) his neighbor charged me, and fell to my blades. It took several seconds for all of the bandits to realize what was happening, and like a bad Kung Fu movie they charged towards me in ones and twos, and I quickly dispatched them, and then it was just me and Twinblade, the Bandit Chief, who still pathetically begged for his life. Although he'd saved my sister's life so long ago when she'd been left for dead, I did not show him the same kindness.
After apparently destroying the Bandit's camp I returned to the Guild where I saw the two quests. One to rescue three Traders from the Bandits, the other (what I figured the evil, flip side of the rescue quest) was to kill the Guards and Traders in another village. Hmm, I'm supposed to be getting in with the Bandits in order to find my sister...but...it looks like she's doing just fine on her own now, so...let's rescue those Traders. Believing I'd just wiped out their camp I figured this mission would be a cakewalk, but when I returned to the camp I found it still occupied. So more bandits died and the Traders were freed.
That was when I noticed the quest to kill the guards and traders in the other village was still on the table. Hmm, so it wasn't the "evil" choice of the two after all. Feeling particularly evil I accepted the quest, and went and slew some Guards and helpless Traders. This would not be my only "evil" act of the night, because returning to the Quest Table I found it empty, but then remembered I still had a Quest in my Log.
The Arena.
The place where Heroes become Legends.
I entered the Arena and with a combination of Sword and Spell (& quaffing numerous potions) I defeated round after round of beasties, and then Whisper appeared, my childhood rival from the Heroes Guild. Only now she was fighting beside me as we slew numerous beasts, skeletons, trolls, and finally, a giant scorpion creature, and then it was just Whisper and me.
Whisper.
Whose claims that she was the superior Hero, despite the results of our training day duels, seemed more than just sour grapes.
Whisper.
Whose big brother, Thunder, was seen badmouthing me in town, was heard putting down my heroic feats. "Come to play with the other children, have you?" he said to me derisively.
Whisper.
Who foolishly said to me, as we stood there facing each other, "I won't kill you. I refuse to kill you."
Whisper, I don't share your compassion.
Fable actually makes it very easy for a normally altruistic person to cross the line. And cross it I did.
When Whisper finally stood before me, head bowed, pleading for me to just walk away, that I didn't have to do this...I did it anyway, and the crowd roared my name as I stood over her broken body. And it was GLORIOUS!!!
This could explain why I loved playing a Rogue in WoW's PvP ;)
When I exited the Arena the only thing between Thunder and I was Lady Grey, the Mayor of Bowerstone.
For some reason Thunder seemed to feel that my killing his sister, in the Arena, in a fight to the death, somehow amounted to Murder.
Lady Grey disagreed, and saved Thunder's life by not letting the big brute make a mistake he'd regret, but I just know I'll be helping him reunite with his sister before this game is done. I can feel it. Oh yes, I can!
I took my Arena Champion's purse containing over 30,000 gold (enough to buy a house in Bowerstone, if I'm not mistaken) and left the Arena where I was greeted by my adoring fans.
Murderer? Moi? Thunder, you are gravely mistaken, and if you persist in spreading such rumors I'm afraid we'll have to settle this in the Arena.
To paraphrase Ash, "Good. Bad. I'm the guy with the sword."
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
What an opener
Let's see that imitation Aussie top this!
Ladies and Gentleman, I give you...
Hugh Jackman's opening performance of the 2009 Oscars!
Anne Hathaway isn't half bad, either ;)
Ladies and Gentleman, I give you...
Hugh Jackman's opening performance of the 2009 Oscars!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Fable, and moral choices in PC games
I got Fable:The Lost Chapters on the weekend. Like Fallout 3, F:TLC (and Fable II) offers the player a moral choice. "How do you want to play the game?" But unlike F3, F:TLC appears to offer a more realistic choice.
In F3 when you entered Megaton and encountered the Sheriff your conversation responses ranged from polite and respectful to arrogant ass. IMO a non-response doesn't really qualify as an "evil" response, it could also mean you're the strong, silent type.
But with F:TLC you have a real choice.
I wish I could remember the post I read on someone's Blog (or I'd link it here) about how people with strong, moral compasses may have trouble playing F3 with an evil character, choosing "evil" responses. Games like Grand Theft Auto are easier to play because they give you little to no choice. You're Tommy Vercetti, a mafioso who just got out of prison and is being asked to run the Vice City syndicate. If you want to progress through the game, you don't really have a choice as to how you play it. You follow linear quests and the story unfolds.
F:TLC, however, offers you a choice, starting with your very first quests.
A young girl asks you to find her bear, and when you do, you're given a choice of siding with the bully who's already mentioned he planned to pull the bear's head off, or siding with a younger child who has the bear, and beating up the bully.
When a villager asks you to guard his wares another child wanders up and encourages you to smash the unguarded barrels to see what's in them.
When you find a philandering husband you're given a choice of accepting a gold piece to keep quiet, or telling the cheater's wife what you saw.
All very real choices, and almost opposite sides of the coin. Not goody two shoes versus ass, but good guy versus bad guy.
Then when you find yourself in the Guild of Heroes, choosing your first quest for them, you're again presented with a very real choice. You actually have a choice of two quests but you can only accept one because the goal of each is contrary to the other.
A local Farmer has some valuable stones in his possession and is being attacked by Bandits intent on stealing them. You have a choice of defending the farm and fighting off the bandits, or protecting the bandits while they steal the stones. Interestingly (IMO) the person behind the quest to steal the stones is none other than a local Mayor.
I chose to defend the farm, and as I've leveled up I've been putting points into martial combat and physical strength. But having played Fallout3 through as a "good guy" and been unable to restart it playing through as an ass, I've decided to restart F:TLC and play the "evil" side first, focusing on becoming more of an Assassin-style character.
Why?
Because F:TLC has a key plot device which makes it easy for someone with a strong moral compass to play the bad side.
*SPOILER* Very early in the game your village is attacked by Bandits, your father is slain, and your mother and sister are taken prisoner. You are rescued by Maze who takes you to the Guild of Heroes, which is where the meat & potatoes of the game starts. How does this help a "good" person play an evil character in F:TLC? Quite simply, you're going to do whatever it takes to rescue your sister. As Bandits are the ones who took her away, it could be argued that the best way to rescue your sister is to become a Bandit yourself, infiltrate their network, and eventually destroy them from within. And if you happen to become corrupted by the dark side along the way, that's only to be expected.
It's like the post I made about the Torture Quest in WoW. You could have been presented with two Quests, one to torture the prisoner to extract the desired information, and one to help him escape, gain his trust, and get the information that way. That's a real choice, and F:TLC offers you choices like that.
While F:TLC may not have the polish of WoW, it's still a very good looking game, and combat is fun (at least in the early stages) without being a nightmare. But as far as offering the player choices on how to proceed through the game and develop their character, F:TLC wins hands down. All this, for a shade more than the price of one month of WoW. Bargain!
In F3 when you entered Megaton and encountered the Sheriff your conversation responses ranged from polite and respectful to arrogant ass. IMO a non-response doesn't really qualify as an "evil" response, it could also mean you're the strong, silent type.
But with F:TLC you have a real choice.
I wish I could remember the post I read on someone's Blog (or I'd link it here) about how people with strong, moral compasses may have trouble playing F3 with an evil character, choosing "evil" responses. Games like Grand Theft Auto are easier to play because they give you little to no choice. You're Tommy Vercetti, a mafioso who just got out of prison and is being asked to run the Vice City syndicate. If you want to progress through the game, you don't really have a choice as to how you play it. You follow linear quests and the story unfolds.
F:TLC, however, offers you a choice, starting with your very first quests.
A young girl asks you to find her bear, and when you do, you're given a choice of siding with the bully who's already mentioned he planned to pull the bear's head off, or siding with a younger child who has the bear, and beating up the bully.
When a villager asks you to guard his wares another child wanders up and encourages you to smash the unguarded barrels to see what's in them.
When you find a philandering husband you're given a choice of accepting a gold piece to keep quiet, or telling the cheater's wife what you saw.
All very real choices, and almost opposite sides of the coin. Not goody two shoes versus ass, but good guy versus bad guy.
Then when you find yourself in the Guild of Heroes, choosing your first quest for them, you're again presented with a very real choice. You actually have a choice of two quests but you can only accept one because the goal of each is contrary to the other.
A local Farmer has some valuable stones in his possession and is being attacked by Bandits intent on stealing them. You have a choice of defending the farm and fighting off the bandits, or protecting the bandits while they steal the stones. Interestingly (IMO) the person behind the quest to steal the stones is none other than a local Mayor.
I chose to defend the farm, and as I've leveled up I've been putting points into martial combat and physical strength. But having played Fallout3 through as a "good guy" and been unable to restart it playing through as an ass, I've decided to restart F:TLC and play the "evil" side first, focusing on becoming more of an Assassin-style character.
Why?
Because F:TLC has a key plot device which makes it easy for someone with a strong moral compass to play the bad side.
*SPOILER* Very early in the game your village is attacked by Bandits, your father is slain, and your mother and sister are taken prisoner. You are rescued by Maze who takes you to the Guild of Heroes, which is where the meat & potatoes of the game starts. How does this help a "good" person play an evil character in F:TLC? Quite simply, you're going to do whatever it takes to rescue your sister. As Bandits are the ones who took her away, it could be argued that the best way to rescue your sister is to become a Bandit yourself, infiltrate their network, and eventually destroy them from within. And if you happen to become corrupted by the dark side along the way, that's only to be expected.
It's like the post I made about the Torture Quest in WoW. You could have been presented with two Quests, one to torture the prisoner to extract the desired information, and one to help him escape, gain his trust, and get the information that way. That's a real choice, and F:TLC offers you choices like that.
While F:TLC may not have the polish of WoW, it's still a very good looking game, and combat is fun (at least in the early stages) without being a nightmare. But as far as offering the player choices on how to proceed through the game and develop their character, F:TLC wins hands down. All this, for a shade more than the price of one month of WoW. Bargain!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Motivation
I'll admit it, I may be a bloody genius but I'm also a lazy bastard, and sometimes I need a kick in the pants to get me going. So I made myself a motivational poster, and damned if it doesn't get the job done. Being a considerate, lazy genius, I thought I'd share, in case anyone else needs a slap upside the head, too ;)
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
NCIS
Yeah, I'm an NCIS Fanbois, and a dorky one at that, with my satchel strap across my chest. (Idiot! Take your bag off next time! Whadda ya trying to do? Ruin an excellent fan pic?)
Gibb's famous black Dodger Charger
He was driving it earlier that day, Mark Harmon was, that is. He drives just like Gibbs too, which makes perfect sense when you think about it.
Per Crucifer's request here's more on my NCIS encounter.
* * *
On Tuesday our HR Rep forwarded a Memo from Building Mgmt. about filming that would be taking place in our building the next day. A month or two back the Heroes crew had been by so I opened this one to see if they were back or....NCIS??? OMG!!!!
Yep, it was kind of like that ;)
Actually when I'd arrived for work that morning a crew was already setting up, and it didn't occur to me later when I got the Memo that NCIS were already here because big productions rarely shoot for just one day.
I was in a late afternoon meeting when I heard a pitched gun battle from the alley. Easily 10 or 12 shots were fired, which is unusual for NCIS. Up until that point none of NCIS' gun fights (at least none I'd seen) had run that long, most were over after the exchange of just a few shots. (*edit* They were filming ep. 6.20 Dead Reckoning, and this was the opening scene's gun fight involving Trent Kort)
Today Liz came into downtown to join me for lunch (& hopefully see someone ;) so when she called to tell me she was almost there I headed downstairs where I found a crew out on the sidewalk. From where I stood I could see Michael Weatherly (aka DiNozzo) chatting with a couple of folks. A minute or so later a crew member came over and asked me and a couple of other people standing next to the alley to move back, because Mark Harmon was going to be driving into the alley hard & fast, just like his alter-ego 'Gibbs' :)
Sure enough Mark emerged from the alley and as a cop directed traffic around them he walked out and got into the familiar black Dodge Charger. When they were ready the cop stopped a couple of cars to give them room and with that "Gibbs" emerged, the Charger roared, and with tires screeching it hammered into and down the alley and out of view.
I chatted with the crew member and found out they were about to break for lunch themselves, but he told me where they'd be shooting afterward, which was just a couple of blocks from where I'd be catching my bus.
Liz arrived as they were getting ready for another take, and she actually drove past Mark & Michael in their car. If she'd come along a minute or so earlier or later she would have been stopped by the cop and had an excellent view of Gibbs doing what he does best: driving like a maniac :P
Instead she picked me up then did a "Gibbs U-Turn" of her own, right in front of the man himself.
Without enough room for her Highlander to get all the way around in one shot and with oncoming traffic quickly approaching, Liz was forced to drive up onto the sidewalk to complete her U-turn. As she pulled back out onto the road we passed Michael and Mark still sitting on the other side of the road. The driver's window was down and Mark was looking right at us.
In Liz's words, "I didn't know until I made the turn and I was facing him when I was finished. He flashed his famous grin at me. *swoon*"
I don't know if Michael made a comment to him about how "she drives just like you", but Mark really was looking right at Liz and he had a big grin on his face.
After lunch Liz dropped me back at work. The crew were still on their own lunch break so Liz went on home.
At the end of the day I swung by the second location and while walking down the street I saw the Charger first, then Cote de Pablo (Ziva) chatting with a few guys. When I got closer and was finally able to take my eyes off her :P I realized Michael was standing beside her. On meeting Cote in person it was very hard to picture her as diamond-hard Ziva. She is a strikingly attractive woman.
I had to interrupt their conversation with two crew members (who I found out later were Donald Bellisario and his assistant) but they were really good about me intruding on their work. When I asked if I could get a photo Donald said sure, waved his hand and stood back.
Suddenly nervous I stammered & stuttered but managed to convey that I wanted my picture taken with Cote and Michael. Thinking back I have the impression that Donald knew what I wanted all along and was just messing with me. I handed over my camera but he passed it on to his assistant. When I stepped up to Cote and Michael they parted so I could stand between them, and when I did, Cote put her arm around my waist. I'm not joking. Seriously! Look how she's leaning into me! So I returned the favor and did the same to both her and Michael ;) I'm not sure what he thought about that, although it shouldn't have come as a surprise to him, I mean he is a good looking guy ;) We may be the same age but he's aged a heck of a lot better than I have :D
After the photo was taken Cote demanded photo-approval rights before letting me go, which got her a ribbing and a friendly shove from Michael. Clearly their onscreen chemistry is mirrored off screen as well, although rumor has it that while Cote would like their characters to hook up, Michael is averse to that idea.
I asked if Mark was still around and was told he'd already left. I mentioned that I'd seen him driving into the alley near my work that morning and told Michael he was taking his life in his hands when he rode with Mark. (Yeah, my nerves were calm now. I was shooting the breeze with Ziva and DiNozzo ;)
"Every day," Michael said with a laugh. "Every single day!"
And that was it. Off I went to catch my bus, and send Liz a text message: "No Gibbs, he'd already left. But I did get a photo of his car. I also got a photo of me with DiNozzo...and ZIVA!!!"
Her reply was short and direct: "U sux!"
Gibb's famous black Dodger Charger
He was driving it earlier that day, Mark Harmon was, that is. He drives just like Gibbs too, which makes perfect sense when you think about it.
Per Crucifer's request here's more on my NCIS encounter.
* * *
On Tuesday our HR Rep forwarded a Memo from Building Mgmt. about filming that would be taking place in our building the next day. A month or two back the Heroes crew had been by so I opened this one to see if they were back or....NCIS??? OMG!!!!
Yep, it was kind of like that ;)
Actually when I'd arrived for work that morning a crew was already setting up, and it didn't occur to me later when I got the Memo that NCIS were already here because big productions rarely shoot for just one day.
I was in a late afternoon meeting when I heard a pitched gun battle from the alley. Easily 10 or 12 shots were fired, which is unusual for NCIS. Up until that point none of NCIS' gun fights (at least none I'd seen) had run that long, most were over after the exchange of just a few shots. (*edit* They were filming ep. 6.20 Dead Reckoning, and this was the opening scene's gun fight involving Trent Kort)
Today Liz came into downtown to join me for lunch (& hopefully see someone ;) so when she called to tell me she was almost there I headed downstairs where I found a crew out on the sidewalk. From where I stood I could see Michael Weatherly (aka DiNozzo) chatting with a couple of folks. A minute or so later a crew member came over and asked me and a couple of other people standing next to the alley to move back, because Mark Harmon was going to be driving into the alley hard & fast, just like his alter-ego 'Gibbs' :)
Sure enough Mark emerged from the alley and as a cop directed traffic around them he walked out and got into the familiar black Dodge Charger. When they were ready the cop stopped a couple of cars to give them room and with that "Gibbs" emerged, the Charger roared, and with tires screeching it hammered into and down the alley and out of view.
I chatted with the crew member and found out they were about to break for lunch themselves, but he told me where they'd be shooting afterward, which was just a couple of blocks from where I'd be catching my bus.
Liz arrived as they were getting ready for another take, and she actually drove past Mark & Michael in their car. If she'd come along a minute or so earlier or later she would have been stopped by the cop and had an excellent view of Gibbs doing what he does best: driving like a maniac :P
Instead she picked me up then did a "Gibbs U-Turn" of her own, right in front of the man himself.
Without enough room for her Highlander to get all the way around in one shot and with oncoming traffic quickly approaching, Liz was forced to drive up onto the sidewalk to complete her U-turn. As she pulled back out onto the road we passed Michael and Mark still sitting on the other side of the road. The driver's window was down and Mark was looking right at us.
In Liz's words, "I didn't know until I made the turn and I was facing him when I was finished. He flashed his famous grin at me. *swoon*"
I don't know if Michael made a comment to him about how "she drives just like you", but Mark really was looking right at Liz and he had a big grin on his face.
After lunch Liz dropped me back at work. The crew were still on their own lunch break so Liz went on home.
At the end of the day I swung by the second location and while walking down the street I saw the Charger first, then Cote de Pablo (Ziva) chatting with a few guys. When I got closer and was finally able to take my eyes off her :P I realized Michael was standing beside her. On meeting Cote in person it was very hard to picture her as diamond-hard Ziva. She is a strikingly attractive woman.
I had to interrupt their conversation with two crew members (who I found out later were Donald Bellisario and his assistant) but they were really good about me intruding on their work. When I asked if I could get a photo Donald said sure, waved his hand and stood back.
Suddenly nervous I stammered & stuttered but managed to convey that I wanted my picture taken with Cote and Michael. Thinking back I have the impression that Donald knew what I wanted all along and was just messing with me. I handed over my camera but he passed it on to his assistant. When I stepped up to Cote and Michael they parted so I could stand between them, and when I did, Cote put her arm around my waist. I'm not joking. Seriously! Look how she's leaning into me! So I returned the favor and did the same to both her and Michael ;) I'm not sure what he thought about that, although it shouldn't have come as a surprise to him, I mean he is a good looking guy ;) We may be the same age but he's aged a heck of a lot better than I have :D
After the photo was taken Cote demanded photo-approval rights before letting me go, which got her a ribbing and a friendly shove from Michael. Clearly their onscreen chemistry is mirrored off screen as well, although rumor has it that while Cote would like their characters to hook up, Michael is averse to that idea.
I asked if Mark was still around and was told he'd already left. I mentioned that I'd seen him driving into the alley near my work that morning and told Michael he was taking his life in his hands when he rode with Mark. (Yeah, my nerves were calm now. I was shooting the breeze with Ziva and DiNozzo ;)
"Every day," Michael said with a laugh. "Every single day!"
And that was it. Off I went to catch my bus, and send Liz a text message: "No Gibbs, he'd already left. But I did get a photo of his car. I also got a photo of me with DiNozzo...and ZIVA!!!"
Her reply was short and direct: "U sux!"
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
It's official
Ever wondered what I sound like? Do I really talk like a Pirate? Ever wanted to fall asleep as I read you a bedtime story? (Please don't say Yes to that last one. That would be kind of creepy.)
In conjunction with Saylah of Mystic Worlds, (& a couple of other Bloggers), we're putting together a series of Podcasts where we'll be doing readings of our own stories.
So if you've a mind to hear my voice so maybe you can imagine me reading my Blog entries to you (again with the creepy), just head on over to the temporary home of our Podcasts and click the links you find there.
And in case you're wondering, yes, I will also (eventually) be doing a reading of my last entry, "Becoming the Hunter". I'm also currently working on another Kwazimoto story. Got to have material for the Podcasts, you know.
In conjunction with Saylah of Mystic Worlds, (& a couple of other Bloggers), we're putting together a series of Podcasts where we'll be doing readings of our own stories.
So if you've a mind to hear my voice so maybe you can imagine me reading my Blog entries to you (again with the creepy), just head on over to the temporary home of our Podcasts and click the links you find there.
And in case you're wondering, yes, I will also (eventually) be doing a reading of my last entry, "Becoming the Hunter". I'm also currently working on another Kwazimoto story. Got to have material for the Podcasts, you know.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Becoming the Hunter
A post/story from Pike about her Hunter finding the Raptor she'd set free so long ago prompted me to write this fictional piece about my own Hunter, a Dwarf named Kwazimoto, as he learns the basic skills of the Hunter class, then sets out to find the animal that would become his lifelong companion.
As in Kwazimoto and the Demon, I've used actual names and places from the World of Warcraft to create this story of how Kwazimoto became a Hunter.
* * *
The young Dwarf seemed proud of himself as he trotted up the hill towards Grif Wildheart. The old Hunter looked down at his latest student who, like many of those that had preceded him, now had an Ice Bear cub hot on his heels.
Although just a cub the Ice Bear was still big enough and strong enough to be capable of dispatching a young Dwarf, like the very one which led it to the old Hunter, but the dazed look in the bear’s eyes told Grif it didn't fully understand what had happened to it, or what compelled it to follow the young Hunter who, although half its size, had somehow bent it to his will.
In any Pack there can be only one Alpha, Grif mused to himself, although most folks will look at a pack and say, 'There's the Alpha Male, and his mate, the Alpha Female.' But truth is only one of them is the Alpha. If the Alpha is the Male then the Female is not a true Alpha, for like the rest of the pack she too must bow to the Male, and if the Female is the Alpha, then the Male must submit to her as does the rest of the pack.
Prior to sending his student out, Grif had passed on these words of wisdom: The secret to Taming a Beast is that in each pack there can be only one Alpha. You must challenge the Beast, and stand firm against its attacks. If you stand firm long enough then the Beast has no choice but to concede victory to you. But you must stand firm! The Beast must be made to see that its attacks are futile, for you are stronger, because you are Alpha.
With the dazed Ice Bear cub in tow Grif could see that this young Dwarf...What was his name again? Kawasaki? Kozimodo? Kwazimoto! That was it. This Kwazimoto (strange name for a Dwarf) he had what it took to be a Hunter. He was an Alpha, and the Ice Bear behind him was testament to that.
"Ye've done well, Kwazimoto," said Grif. "Ye've proved yer have a way with animals, and ye've tamed the three beasties just as I asked yer to. Yer well on yer way to becoming a Hunter, but afore you go rushing off, Taming Beast willy nilly, stop by Ironforge first. Ye'll be lookin' to speak to Belia Thundergranite. If she's not in the Military Ward, she'll probably be talking shop with Bretta Goldfury. Actually, it wouldn't hurt for ye to get to know Bretta, either. I've a feeling you'll be wanting to stop by and visit Ms. Goldfury most every time yer in Ironforge." Grif winked at the young and confused Dwarf, before continuing. "Very popular lady with the Hunters, she is. Now, off you go. NO! NOT YOU, YOUNG CUB!"
Grif's voice changed so suddenly, became so powerful, and so commanding, that Kwazi stopped dead in his tracks, as did the Ice Bear cub, which was the real target of Grif's order.
"Yah!" Grif yelled, and both Dwarf and Bear looked up at him in astonishment.
"Gwan! Giddouttaheah!" Grif clapped his hands and the sharp sound was like a peal of thunder to the two mesmerized creatures, and they both took off as fast as their legs could carry them. While the Bear galloped south into the hills, the young Dwarf bolted north out of Kharanos towards Ironforge, Belia Thundergranite, and his next lesson on the road to becoming a Hunter.
* * *
"So ye see, young man," said Belia, "because yer the Alpha, yer companion relies on you. He looks up to you not just for leadership, but for life. He relies on you for food, shelter, and protection. And if yer not going to look after yer animal companion, I've just wasted the better part of three hours with ye, so ye might as well just head on over there to him *snort* and become a warrior." Belia blew through her nose as she shrugged and looked in the direction of Kelv Sternhammer. "How about it? Ye want to mingle with the likes of him? Or do ye want to be a Hunter? Now go! I've taught ye all ye need to know...for now."
* * *
Kwazi sat just outside Steelgrill's Depot, looking down on the Steam Tanks. Although a light snow was falling on him the warm body curled up next to the dwarf kept him quite warm, and his hand absently stroked the Snow Wolf's fur. The Wolf was the third beast Kwazi had befriended this day, but it, like the Bear and the Snow Leopard before it, just didn't feel right. He enjoyed having the animals beside him; he could feel the call of the wild. He knew he was destined to be a Hunter, not a muscle bound oaf of a Warrior, but he needed to find the right animal for him. Kwazi needed his kindred spirit.
"Go, boy!" he ordered the Wolf, and it looked up at him, confused. The Wolf also enjoyed being with the Dwarf, its new Alpha, and the sense of belonging it got from being with the Dwarf gave it a feeling of security it hadn't known while living in the foothills of Dun Morogh. And now its Alpha wanted to send it away? The Wolf looked to where Kwazimoto was pointing and at that instant, a white rabbit burst out of a snow bank and bounded away.
"Go!" Kwazi repeated, and the Wolf's predator instincts took over and it leaped to its feet and began loping after the rabbit. Kwazi watched the chase for several seconds, until both animals disappeared among the swirling snow drifts, then he climbed to his feet and strode off in the opposite direction. Before too long the dark shape of the Kharanos Inn loomed into view, and Kwazi's belly rumbled.
“Time for a big bowl of rabbit stew,” he said to himself, “and maybe a pint or three of Thunder Ale.”
Perhaps his friend Jarven would be in, he could use the company. Perhaps? Kwazi, chuckled to himself. When was Jarven not in the Kharanos Inn? Why, he practically lived off the Inn's Thunder Ale.
Sure enough, Kwazi entered the Inn and a smile creased his face as he heard Jarven's booming voice ring out, "Hey there, Belm! Give me a mug of Thunder Ale, and one for my good friend...Kwazimoto?"
"Better make that two, Belm," laughed Kwazi. "You know how Jarven loves his Thunder Ale."
The two friends sat down at a table in front of the fire, clinked mugs, and Kwazi took a long pull. "Ah, that sure does hit the spot," he said. He lowered his mug to see Jarven pushing another one his way, while looking at Kwazi's half full mug with disgust.
"Come on! Drink up, man!" said Jarven, as he raised his own second mug of Thunder Ale. Kwazi took another long pull, slammed his empty mug down on the table, and heard Jarven call for two more mugs.
"Slow down, Jarven," said Kwazi, "I've not even touched my second mug yet."
"Aye, yer gettin' slow in yer old age, Kwazi." said his friend.
Kwazi gasped. "Old? Who are you calling old? You've got two seasons on me, you old coot!"
"Ha ha, it's good to see you again, Kwazi," laughed Jarven. "So, what brings you back to Kharanos? I didn’t expect to see you for at least another ten-day."
Kwazi explained his morning's actions to his friend. How he'd tamed several beasts but none of them had seemed quite right for him.
"Now this!" stated Jarven. "This sounds like a problem I can help you with! There's no problem too big, or too small, that cannot be solved by a liberal application of more Thunder Ale!" Jarven positively bellowed the last three words, and Belm rushed over to keep his best customer happy.
"Belm," said Kwazi, "bring me a bowl of stew, and some cornbread while you're at it."
"Bah! Stew and cornbread?" snorted Jarven. "What do ya want to go filling your belly with that stuff for, when there's still plenty more Thunder Ale."
Ignoring Jarven, Kwazi continued, "And Belm? A couple of plates of those Boar Ribs, too."
"Now those I can appreciate!" said Jarven. "There's nothing better than me brother's famous Beer Basted Boar Ribs, except maybe..."
Kwazi joined Jarven in finishing his sentence, "...more Thunder Ale!"
The two friends laughed then settled in for an afternoon of eating and drinking, while outside the storm picked up, adding even more snow to the almost constant layer of white powder covering the ground, for in this part of the country it almost always seemed to be snowing, regardless of the time of year.
* * *
It was late into the evening when Kwazi signaled Belm. "I think I'm going to be needing a bed for the night," he said. He smiled at Jarven, who lay asleep with his head on the table, surrounded by dozens of empty, foam-covered mugs. "You'll be paying for that lot in the morning," he said as he stood. The room spun, and he almost sat straight back down again. "Woah! As I will be too!" he added, catching the edge of the table and hanging on for dear life. When the room had stopped spinning Kwazi wobbled off through the kitchen and downstairs, to where a soft bed and a warm fire waited for him.
And with his Hunter lessons still fresh in his mind, is it any surprise that Kwazi's dreams were filled with countless Beasts, all clamoring for his attention? All except one, that is.
As the beasts of his dream pushed around him and fought with each other, one magnificent animal sat back from the rest. And while all the other animals growled and yipped and howled and roared and tried to catch his eye, the one beast that had Kwazi’s undivided attention ignored him, as it licked a huge orange paw and brushed it over one black and orange ear. Then switching paws it washed the other ear. And all the while it ignored the Hunter.
The other animals fell silent, then, as is the way of dreams when you pay them no mind, they vanished. Not with a pop, or a bang, or in a flash of smoke; they simply ceased to be. And then there was just the Hunter, and the Tiger, which stopped washing itself to stare at Kwazi for several, very long seconds, before dismissing him and resuming its bath.
A loud roar from behind the Hunter finally accomplished what he could not. Something behind Kwazi finally had the Tiger's attention.
"Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream," Kwazi told himself, as he tried to will himself awake. But he remained in his dream land. As he stared at the Tiger in front of him he felt the very warm, almost moist air of something breathing down the back of his neck. Literally down. Whatever was behind the Dwarf was tall enough that its hot breath was coming from at least a full foot above his head.
A second roar from behind Kwazi coated the back and top of his head with warm spittle. "What's...behind me...Tiger?" muttered Kwazi. The Tiger looked at Kwazi, then looked up behind him, and from the look in its eyes Kwazi figured whatever was behind him was big. Really big. He reached for his rifle but his dream self appeared to have misplaced it.
And then the Tiger leaped.
Kwazi ducked as the Tiger flew over his head and crashed into the something behind him, which let out more roars. Higher pitched “I'm in pain!” roars. Kwazi turned to discover the ‘something’ was a Raptor. His Tiger had the lizard by the throat, preventing it from bringing its own fearsome jaws into play, but the claws from both animals still raked at each other, and fur and leathery hide was shredded and running with blood.
Kwazi took a step back then raised his rifle to his shoulder. He didn’t ask where it had come from, this was a dream, and these things just are. Pulling his rifle in tight he looked down the barrel, waiting for his shot. The fight in front of him was chaotic and brutal, as both animals twisted and turned trying to gain the upper hand. Despite the blood covering their bodies the Tiger’s black and orange coloring stood out against the iridescent purple sheen of the Raptor, and it was the purple Kwazi needed to focus on.
Not the orange, focus on the purple. That’s where your shot is, he told himself. And then, after several long, agonizing seconds, there it was. For a heartbeat he had a clear shot, but that was all the time he needed. His rifle roared, flame belched from the muzzle, and black smoke obliterated both beasts, and when it finally cleared the Tiger was sitting there, alone, again ignoring Kwazi as it calmly and methodically washed itself.
* * *
Kwazi opened his eyes and sat up. The fire in his room had died down, but the room was still warm. He yawned and stretched and looked around. Some time during the night Jarven had found his way downstairs and into the other bed. Kwazi’s internal clock told him it was early, that the sun was not yet up although dawn was not far away.
As he quietly dressed he thought about the animal in his dream. A Tiger? It was a magnificent beast, and you never saw any of them this far north. Down south, though. In the jungles on the other side of Duskwood, now there be Tigers. But the tigers of Stranglethorn were huge beasts, and Kwazi was just a young Hunter with a lot to learn; he was not yet ready to venture into the Vale.
The only other place Kwazi knew where such tigers could be found was even further away than Stranglethorn. Across the ocean, the Echo Isles off the coast of Durotar was home to a small pride of Tigers. With their island being so small, and with such limited food supply, the tigers of Echo Isles were not as big as their Stranglethorn cousins; they’d be perfect for a young Hunter with the heart of a Tiger.
Kwazi muttered to himself, “I guess it’s time to see Kalimdor, see how the other half lives. Let’s see now. Boat from Menethil Harbor, come down through the Elfs’ lands and into the Barrens. Head down to Ratchet, then slip up the coast to the Echo Isles. Couldn’t be any easier, even if I were a Rogue.”
“Whazzat? Say sumppin?” Jarven mumbled.
“Go back to sleep, old friend. I’ll be seein’ ya later.”
“Hey. Who you callin’ old?” Jarven muttered, even as he rolled over and resumed snoring.
Kwazi slipped quietly from the room and out of the Inn, and headed east, towards the North Gate Pass, to Loch Modan, the Wetlands, and Menethil Harbor, where he’d catch the ship that would take him far from his homeland, and into the wild, Horde-controlled lands of Kalimdor.
Maybe I’ll stop off at Darnassus first, he mused to himself. See what all the fuss is over these Night Elf women. And all over some silly dance they do.
(Click here for part II)
As in Kwazimoto and the Demon, I've used actual names and places from the World of Warcraft to create this story of how Kwazimoto became a Hunter.
* * *
The young Dwarf seemed proud of himself as he trotted up the hill towards Grif Wildheart. The old Hunter looked down at his latest student who, like many of those that had preceded him, now had an Ice Bear cub hot on his heels.
Although just a cub the Ice Bear was still big enough and strong enough to be capable of dispatching a young Dwarf, like the very one which led it to the old Hunter, but the dazed look in the bear’s eyes told Grif it didn't fully understand what had happened to it, or what compelled it to follow the young Hunter who, although half its size, had somehow bent it to his will.
In any Pack there can be only one Alpha, Grif mused to himself, although most folks will look at a pack and say, 'There's the Alpha Male, and his mate, the Alpha Female.' But truth is only one of them is the Alpha. If the Alpha is the Male then the Female is not a true Alpha, for like the rest of the pack she too must bow to the Male, and if the Female is the Alpha, then the Male must submit to her as does the rest of the pack.
Prior to sending his student out, Grif had passed on these words of wisdom: The secret to Taming a Beast is that in each pack there can be only one Alpha. You must challenge the Beast, and stand firm against its attacks. If you stand firm long enough then the Beast has no choice but to concede victory to you. But you must stand firm! The Beast must be made to see that its attacks are futile, for you are stronger, because you are Alpha.
With the dazed Ice Bear cub in tow Grif could see that this young Dwarf...What was his name again? Kawasaki? Kozimodo? Kwazimoto! That was it. This Kwazimoto (strange name for a Dwarf) he had what it took to be a Hunter. He was an Alpha, and the Ice Bear behind him was testament to that.
"Ye've done well, Kwazimoto," said Grif. "Ye've proved yer have a way with animals, and ye've tamed the three beasties just as I asked yer to. Yer well on yer way to becoming a Hunter, but afore you go rushing off, Taming Beast willy nilly, stop by Ironforge first. Ye'll be lookin' to speak to Belia Thundergranite. If she's not in the Military Ward, she'll probably be talking shop with Bretta Goldfury. Actually, it wouldn't hurt for ye to get to know Bretta, either. I've a feeling you'll be wanting to stop by and visit Ms. Goldfury most every time yer in Ironforge." Grif winked at the young and confused Dwarf, before continuing. "Very popular lady with the Hunters, she is. Now, off you go. NO! NOT YOU, YOUNG CUB!"
Grif's voice changed so suddenly, became so powerful, and so commanding, that Kwazi stopped dead in his tracks, as did the Ice Bear cub, which was the real target of Grif's order.
"Yah!" Grif yelled, and both Dwarf and Bear looked up at him in astonishment.
"Gwan! Giddouttaheah!" Grif clapped his hands and the sharp sound was like a peal of thunder to the two mesmerized creatures, and they both took off as fast as their legs could carry them. While the Bear galloped south into the hills, the young Dwarf bolted north out of Kharanos towards Ironforge, Belia Thundergranite, and his next lesson on the road to becoming a Hunter.
* * *
"So ye see, young man," said Belia, "because yer the Alpha, yer companion relies on you. He looks up to you not just for leadership, but for life. He relies on you for food, shelter, and protection. And if yer not going to look after yer animal companion, I've just wasted the better part of three hours with ye, so ye might as well just head on over there to him *snort* and become a warrior." Belia blew through her nose as she shrugged and looked in the direction of Kelv Sternhammer. "How about it? Ye want to mingle with the likes of him? Or do ye want to be a Hunter? Now go! I've taught ye all ye need to know...for now."
* * *
Kwazi sat just outside Steelgrill's Depot, looking down on the Steam Tanks. Although a light snow was falling on him the warm body curled up next to the dwarf kept him quite warm, and his hand absently stroked the Snow Wolf's fur. The Wolf was the third beast Kwazi had befriended this day, but it, like the Bear and the Snow Leopard before it, just didn't feel right. He enjoyed having the animals beside him; he could feel the call of the wild. He knew he was destined to be a Hunter, not a muscle bound oaf of a Warrior, but he needed to find the right animal for him. Kwazi needed his kindred spirit.
"Go, boy!" he ordered the Wolf, and it looked up at him, confused. The Wolf also enjoyed being with the Dwarf, its new Alpha, and the sense of belonging it got from being with the Dwarf gave it a feeling of security it hadn't known while living in the foothills of Dun Morogh. And now its Alpha wanted to send it away? The Wolf looked to where Kwazimoto was pointing and at that instant, a white rabbit burst out of a snow bank and bounded away.
"Go!" Kwazi repeated, and the Wolf's predator instincts took over and it leaped to its feet and began loping after the rabbit. Kwazi watched the chase for several seconds, until both animals disappeared among the swirling snow drifts, then he climbed to his feet and strode off in the opposite direction. Before too long the dark shape of the Kharanos Inn loomed into view, and Kwazi's belly rumbled.
“Time for a big bowl of rabbit stew,” he said to himself, “and maybe a pint or three of Thunder Ale.”
Perhaps his friend Jarven would be in, he could use the company. Perhaps? Kwazi, chuckled to himself. When was Jarven not in the Kharanos Inn? Why, he practically lived off the Inn's Thunder Ale.
Sure enough, Kwazi entered the Inn and a smile creased his face as he heard Jarven's booming voice ring out, "Hey there, Belm! Give me a mug of Thunder Ale, and one for my good friend...Kwazimoto?"
"Better make that two, Belm," laughed Kwazi. "You know how Jarven loves his Thunder Ale."
The two friends sat down at a table in front of the fire, clinked mugs, and Kwazi took a long pull. "Ah, that sure does hit the spot," he said. He lowered his mug to see Jarven pushing another one his way, while looking at Kwazi's half full mug with disgust.
"Come on! Drink up, man!" said Jarven, as he raised his own second mug of Thunder Ale. Kwazi took another long pull, slammed his empty mug down on the table, and heard Jarven call for two more mugs.
"Slow down, Jarven," said Kwazi, "I've not even touched my second mug yet."
"Aye, yer gettin' slow in yer old age, Kwazi." said his friend.
Kwazi gasped. "Old? Who are you calling old? You've got two seasons on me, you old coot!"
"Ha ha, it's good to see you again, Kwazi," laughed Jarven. "So, what brings you back to Kharanos? I didn’t expect to see you for at least another ten-day."
Kwazi explained his morning's actions to his friend. How he'd tamed several beasts but none of them had seemed quite right for him.
"Now this!" stated Jarven. "This sounds like a problem I can help you with! There's no problem too big, or too small, that cannot be solved by a liberal application of more Thunder Ale!" Jarven positively bellowed the last three words, and Belm rushed over to keep his best customer happy.
"Belm," said Kwazi, "bring me a bowl of stew, and some cornbread while you're at it."
"Bah! Stew and cornbread?" snorted Jarven. "What do ya want to go filling your belly with that stuff for, when there's still plenty more Thunder Ale."
Ignoring Jarven, Kwazi continued, "And Belm? A couple of plates of those Boar Ribs, too."
"Now those I can appreciate!" said Jarven. "There's nothing better than me brother's famous Beer Basted Boar Ribs, except maybe..."
Kwazi joined Jarven in finishing his sentence, "...more Thunder Ale!"
The two friends laughed then settled in for an afternoon of eating and drinking, while outside the storm picked up, adding even more snow to the almost constant layer of white powder covering the ground, for in this part of the country it almost always seemed to be snowing, regardless of the time of year.
* * *
It was late into the evening when Kwazi signaled Belm. "I think I'm going to be needing a bed for the night," he said. He smiled at Jarven, who lay asleep with his head on the table, surrounded by dozens of empty, foam-covered mugs. "You'll be paying for that lot in the morning," he said as he stood. The room spun, and he almost sat straight back down again. "Woah! As I will be too!" he added, catching the edge of the table and hanging on for dear life. When the room had stopped spinning Kwazi wobbled off through the kitchen and downstairs, to where a soft bed and a warm fire waited for him.
And with his Hunter lessons still fresh in his mind, is it any surprise that Kwazi's dreams were filled with countless Beasts, all clamoring for his attention? All except one, that is.
As the beasts of his dream pushed around him and fought with each other, one magnificent animal sat back from the rest. And while all the other animals growled and yipped and howled and roared and tried to catch his eye, the one beast that had Kwazi’s undivided attention ignored him, as it licked a huge orange paw and brushed it over one black and orange ear. Then switching paws it washed the other ear. And all the while it ignored the Hunter.
The other animals fell silent, then, as is the way of dreams when you pay them no mind, they vanished. Not with a pop, or a bang, or in a flash of smoke; they simply ceased to be. And then there was just the Hunter, and the Tiger, which stopped washing itself to stare at Kwazi for several, very long seconds, before dismissing him and resuming its bath.
A loud roar from behind the Hunter finally accomplished what he could not. Something behind Kwazi finally had the Tiger's attention.
"Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream," Kwazi told himself, as he tried to will himself awake. But he remained in his dream land. As he stared at the Tiger in front of him he felt the very warm, almost moist air of something breathing down the back of his neck. Literally down. Whatever was behind the Dwarf was tall enough that its hot breath was coming from at least a full foot above his head.
A second roar from behind Kwazi coated the back and top of his head with warm spittle. "What's...behind me...Tiger?" muttered Kwazi. The Tiger looked at Kwazi, then looked up behind him, and from the look in its eyes Kwazi figured whatever was behind him was big. Really big. He reached for his rifle but his dream self appeared to have misplaced it.
And then the Tiger leaped.
Kwazi ducked as the Tiger flew over his head and crashed into the something behind him, which let out more roars. Higher pitched “I'm in pain!” roars. Kwazi turned to discover the ‘something’ was a Raptor. His Tiger had the lizard by the throat, preventing it from bringing its own fearsome jaws into play, but the claws from both animals still raked at each other, and fur and leathery hide was shredded and running with blood.
Kwazi took a step back then raised his rifle to his shoulder. He didn’t ask where it had come from, this was a dream, and these things just are. Pulling his rifle in tight he looked down the barrel, waiting for his shot. The fight in front of him was chaotic and brutal, as both animals twisted and turned trying to gain the upper hand. Despite the blood covering their bodies the Tiger’s black and orange coloring stood out against the iridescent purple sheen of the Raptor, and it was the purple Kwazi needed to focus on.
Not the orange, focus on the purple. That’s where your shot is, he told himself. And then, after several long, agonizing seconds, there it was. For a heartbeat he had a clear shot, but that was all the time he needed. His rifle roared, flame belched from the muzzle, and black smoke obliterated both beasts, and when it finally cleared the Tiger was sitting there, alone, again ignoring Kwazi as it calmly and methodically washed itself.
* * *
Kwazi opened his eyes and sat up. The fire in his room had died down, but the room was still warm. He yawned and stretched and looked around. Some time during the night Jarven had found his way downstairs and into the other bed. Kwazi’s internal clock told him it was early, that the sun was not yet up although dawn was not far away.
As he quietly dressed he thought about the animal in his dream. A Tiger? It was a magnificent beast, and you never saw any of them this far north. Down south, though. In the jungles on the other side of Duskwood, now there be Tigers. But the tigers of Stranglethorn were huge beasts, and Kwazi was just a young Hunter with a lot to learn; he was not yet ready to venture into the Vale.
The only other place Kwazi knew where such tigers could be found was even further away than Stranglethorn. Across the ocean, the Echo Isles off the coast of Durotar was home to a small pride of Tigers. With their island being so small, and with such limited food supply, the tigers of Echo Isles were not as big as their Stranglethorn cousins; they’d be perfect for a young Hunter with the heart of a Tiger.
Kwazi muttered to himself, “I guess it’s time to see Kalimdor, see how the other half lives. Let’s see now. Boat from Menethil Harbor, come down through the Elfs’ lands and into the Barrens. Head down to Ratchet, then slip up the coast to the Echo Isles. Couldn’t be any easier, even if I were a Rogue.”
“Whazzat? Say sumppin?” Jarven mumbled.
“Go back to sleep, old friend. I’ll be seein’ ya later.”
“Hey. Who you callin’ old?” Jarven muttered, even as he rolled over and resumed snoring.
Kwazi slipped quietly from the room and out of the Inn, and headed east, towards the North Gate Pass, to Loch Modan, the Wetlands, and Menethil Harbor, where he’d catch the ship that would take him far from his homeland, and into the wild, Horde-controlled lands of Kalimdor.
Maybe I’ll stop off at Darnassus first, he mused to himself. See what all the fuss is over these Night Elf women. And all over some silly dance they do.
(Click here for part II)
Fun (& grouping) in W101
Other than in the handful of Instances in each zone, W101 doesn't really let you group up, which is why it's amusing (to me) that this weekend I did more grouping in W101 than I have during the entire game. Don't get me wrong, I've ran a couple of Instances with other players, I even PUGd The Sunken City, but this weekend was something different.
For once I saw quite a few folks running around Moo Shu & Hametsu Village, I even befriended a couple of them, and because they were able to hold a decent conversation during combat (thus proving their maturity level), I even let them stay on my Friends List. I make it a habit to prune out people on my (& JE's) Friends' List who look like slackers. They'd be the ones who are very low level and so probably want a free ride to Marleybone or Moo Shu, or whose extra information cannot be access from the Friends List (highlight a Friend in your List, then click that little left-pointing arrow in the bottom left corner of their Friend Frame), which I assume implies they're on a Trial Account. I don't know if that's true or not, but they get deleted anyway.
Late last week I'd quested briefly with one player, Joseph, then offered to beat a minor Boss with him but he'd had to log off; him I let stay on my Friends List. On Saturday I ran into another new Friend, Jacob, and by coincidence, we were up to the same Questing stage in that area. We chatted and discovered we needed to kill the same Mobs, farm the same Quest Drops, beat the same minor Boss, etc. So Jacob and I ran around together for a couple of hours double-teaming all our quests, which not only made things a little more pleasant than solo killing, but also sped up the process, too. If you need to kill 12 Mobs for a Quest, on your own you'll be fighting 2 Mobs, but with a partner you face 3 Mobs. That's 4 fights with a partner compared to 6 on your own, and with a partner the Odds are tipped a little more in your favor, too. 3 vs 2 is still not a fair fight, but it's more fair than 2 on 1.
So Jacob and I ran around questing together and during the course of conversation it came out that he's married like me, and also has a son who plays W101. Like most MMOs, W101 is a lot more fun when you have a mature (not necessarily older, just mature) player to hang out with.
Later Jacob logged out to go to a Superbowl Party, but I stayed on, quested a bit more, and got a bit ahead of him. Liz and I had the game on ourselves but I wasn't too attached to either the Steelers or the Cardinals, so, meh. Interesting commercial? Sure, I'll watch for a few seconds. Interception? 100-yard TD Return? Show me the replay! But the entire game? Meh.
The kids came home and JE jumped into the game but he's discovered the new PvP Arena, so I indulged him and joined him for a Duel. For some reason we signed up for 3v3, even though it was just the two of us, meaning we needed a PUG for a 3rd...and we got your stereotypical MMO PUG player.
While a player on the other team apologized to her team mates for bringing her PvE Deck, our PUG guy was talking Trash. Another one of their players was decked out similar to Saylah in her new Kitty Cat Cap, so I complimented her on her outfit. Our PUG guy thought that was hilarious.
With our opponents being in Oni gear they all had well over 2,000HP, and two of them were even close to 3,000. By contrast I was the only Wizard on our team with over 2,000HP, and I wasn't over by a lot. I didn't like our chances of winning, but I figured we were here to have fun (well I was) so let's give it our best!
After several rounds of buffing & debuffing, and various attacks, both JE and our opponents' lowest HP Wizard were knocked out and reeling. (Players reduced to zero HP can still be revived if they don't Flee and another Player can Heal them.) Our PUG guy threw a HOT onto JE bringing him back into the game, for about 2 seconds until one of their Wizards hit us with Meteor, an AOE, which took JE straight back out again.
"We're going to lose," our PUG guy whined.
Then he Fled.
Leaving me to face two Wizards, both with close to 3,000HP. And then they brought their third player back.
Meanwhile our PUG guy ran around the Arena as a spectator, jeering at us, and cheering for our (& his former) opponents. I took the high ground and made the observation that Fleeing disrespects both your team mates and your opponents. That won me brownie points with my opponents, although it didn't stop them trying to defeat me :P
And of course with it now being a Three on One I didn't last long, but I did last a while, and they were attacking too; they weren't sitting back trying to Buff up and one-shot me with a 2K+ attack. In fact I survived long enough to make me wonder if we might have had a chance of winning, if our PUG guy hadn't Fled on us.
When the inevitable happened and I got hit with a DOT that was going to knock me out before I could take my turn, I congratulated our opponents.
Then I left JE in the Arena and resumed Questing. The little guy kept me appraised of his progress, and damned if he didn't go and win several matches on his own :)
I'd been questing for a bit when a third one of my new Friends messaged me, asking what I was doing. I didn't know if she wanted to Teleport to my location, or needed help with something. It was the latter so I ported to her and found her fighting the War Oni at the end of the Crimson Fields Instance. I called out to John and he teleported to me and between the three of us we took the War Oni down.
Later that night I'd find myself fighting the War Oni again, when Jacob returned from his Superbowl Game and we tackled the Crimson Fields together. The big surprise of Crimson Fields was raising 4 Banners, which seemed to do nothing until later in the Instance, when a 5,000HP Fire Boss spawned from out of nowhere. JE was in bed by this time so I quickly logged on his account and 'ported his Wizard to us, and it still wasn't a cakewalk. That Boss was tough, a lot tougher than the War Oni.
And speaking of the War Oni, as we approached his lair Joseph messaged me asking for help. I told him I was about to fight the War Oni, so if he wanted to port to me and help Jacob and I then I'd help with his Boss when we were done. Between the three of us we made short work of the War Oni, then I helped Joseph with his Boss, which moved him in to the area that Jacob and I were just finishing up. Previously I'd had a very long chat with Joseph, and apparently W101 is his first MMO. Which is odd but I can only assume means he has a young child who plays as well (or he's a very mature, younger player himself). He even claimed not to know what AFK meant, which blew my mind.
All in all, it was a fun afternoon/evening. I just wish W101 had something like WoW's Guilds, so players like Jacob and Joseph could more easily meet up with Saylah, Ronan, and the other mature W101 players I know.
For once I saw quite a few folks running around Moo Shu & Hametsu Village, I even befriended a couple of them, and because they were able to hold a decent conversation during combat (thus proving their maturity level), I even let them stay on my Friends List. I make it a habit to prune out people on my (& JE's) Friends' List who look like slackers. They'd be the ones who are very low level and so probably want a free ride to Marleybone or Moo Shu, or whose extra information cannot be access from the Friends List (highlight a Friend in your List, then click that little left-pointing arrow in the bottom left corner of their Friend Frame), which I assume implies they're on a Trial Account. I don't know if that's true or not, but they get deleted anyway.
Late last week I'd quested briefly with one player, Joseph, then offered to beat a minor Boss with him but he'd had to log off; him I let stay on my Friends List. On Saturday I ran into another new Friend, Jacob, and by coincidence, we were up to the same Questing stage in that area. We chatted and discovered we needed to kill the same Mobs, farm the same Quest Drops, beat the same minor Boss, etc. So Jacob and I ran around together for a couple of hours double-teaming all our quests, which not only made things a little more pleasant than solo killing, but also sped up the process, too. If you need to kill 12 Mobs for a Quest, on your own you'll be fighting 2 Mobs, but with a partner you face 3 Mobs. That's 4 fights with a partner compared to 6 on your own, and with a partner the Odds are tipped a little more in your favor, too. 3 vs 2 is still not a fair fight, but it's more fair than 2 on 1.
So Jacob and I ran around questing together and during the course of conversation it came out that he's married like me, and also has a son who plays W101. Like most MMOs, W101 is a lot more fun when you have a mature (not necessarily older, just mature) player to hang out with.
Later Jacob logged out to go to a Superbowl Party, but I stayed on, quested a bit more, and got a bit ahead of him. Liz and I had the game on ourselves but I wasn't too attached to either the Steelers or the Cardinals, so, meh. Interesting commercial? Sure, I'll watch for a few seconds. Interception? 100-yard TD Return? Show me the replay! But the entire game? Meh.
The kids came home and JE jumped into the game but he's discovered the new PvP Arena, so I indulged him and joined him for a Duel. For some reason we signed up for 3v3, even though it was just the two of us, meaning we needed a PUG for a 3rd...and we got your stereotypical MMO PUG player.
While a player on the other team apologized to her team mates for bringing her PvE Deck, our PUG guy was talking Trash. Another one of their players was decked out similar to Saylah in her new Kitty Cat Cap, so I complimented her on her outfit. Our PUG guy thought that was hilarious.
With our opponents being in Oni gear they all had well over 2,000HP, and two of them were even close to 3,000. By contrast I was the only Wizard on our team with over 2,000HP, and I wasn't over by a lot. I didn't like our chances of winning, but I figured we were here to have fun (well I was) so let's give it our best!
After several rounds of buffing & debuffing, and various attacks, both JE and our opponents' lowest HP Wizard were knocked out and reeling. (Players reduced to zero HP can still be revived if they don't Flee and another Player can Heal them.) Our PUG guy threw a HOT onto JE bringing him back into the game, for about 2 seconds until one of their Wizards hit us with Meteor, an AOE, which took JE straight back out again.
"We're going to lose," our PUG guy whined.
Then he Fled.
Leaving me to face two Wizards, both with close to 3,000HP. And then they brought their third player back.
Meanwhile our PUG guy ran around the Arena as a spectator, jeering at us, and cheering for our (& his former) opponents. I took the high ground and made the observation that Fleeing disrespects both your team mates and your opponents. That won me brownie points with my opponents, although it didn't stop them trying to defeat me :P
And of course with it now being a Three on One I didn't last long, but I did last a while, and they were attacking too; they weren't sitting back trying to Buff up and one-shot me with a 2K+ attack. In fact I survived long enough to make me wonder if we might have had a chance of winning, if our PUG guy hadn't Fled on us.
When the inevitable happened and I got hit with a DOT that was going to knock me out before I could take my turn, I congratulated our opponents.
Then I left JE in the Arena and resumed Questing. The little guy kept me appraised of his progress, and damned if he didn't go and win several matches on his own :)
I'd been questing for a bit when a third one of my new Friends messaged me, asking what I was doing. I didn't know if she wanted to Teleport to my location, or needed help with something. It was the latter so I ported to her and found her fighting the War Oni at the end of the Crimson Fields Instance. I called out to John and he teleported to me and between the three of us we took the War Oni down.
Later that night I'd find myself fighting the War Oni again, when Jacob returned from his Superbowl Game and we tackled the Crimson Fields together. The big surprise of Crimson Fields was raising 4 Banners, which seemed to do nothing until later in the Instance, when a 5,000HP Fire Boss spawned from out of nowhere. JE was in bed by this time so I quickly logged on his account and 'ported his Wizard to us, and it still wasn't a cakewalk. That Boss was tough, a lot tougher than the War Oni.
And speaking of the War Oni, as we approached his lair Joseph messaged me asking for help. I told him I was about to fight the War Oni, so if he wanted to port to me and help Jacob and I then I'd help with his Boss when we were done. Between the three of us we made short work of the War Oni, then I helped Joseph with his Boss, which moved him in to the area that Jacob and I were just finishing up. Previously I'd had a very long chat with Joseph, and apparently W101 is his first MMO. Which is odd but I can only assume means he has a young child who plays as well (or he's a very mature, younger player himself). He even claimed not to know what AFK meant, which blew my mind.
All in all, it was a fun afternoon/evening. I just wish W101 had something like WoW's Guilds, so players like Jacob and Joseph could more easily meet up with Saylah, Ronan, and the other mature W101 players I know.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Retirement Homes
I found an interesting post on a Blog (I amaze myself how I find this stuff, sometimes) about outfitting Retirement Homes with LANs, to give the elderly folks something to do as they wait out the remainder of their days on this earth.
If you think about it, most Retirement Homes are very passive places. Old folks sit and watch TV, read the newspaper, or talk quietly among themselves. Or they sit & stare out the window as if wondering who will arrive first: Their kids & grandkids, or the Grim Reaper.
Several years ago I was out door-knocking (I think I was trying to raise money for a charity) and I went into a Retirement Home, thinking the old folks in there would probably be generous and willing to donate to a charity. But the second I walked in and saw all these old folks sitting there, waiting (& you know what they're waiting for), I changed my mind. But by this time I was already well inside the main sitting area, and one of the Orderlies was making his way over towards me.
I looked around at all the old folks just minding their own business and I asked myself what the hell had I been thinking.
And then I saw my Great Aunty. My Mother's Grandmother.
She used to live just a few doors up from us and I'd visit her all the time when I was a young boy. Then...I stopped visiting her. I can't remember why. Maybe it was because she'd been "put in The Home". (How cold does that sound? You "put your parents in a home".) Even though she'd been more of a Grandma to me than my actual Grandma, I hadn't thought about or seen her for years.
So I walked over and sat down next to her and re-introduced myself, because I had no clue if she'd remember who I was. I can't have been more than 12 years old the last time I saw her, and at this time I was a young man in my 20s. I explained how we were related, and sat and talked with her for a little while, although she seemed more inclined to chat with her neighbor than me, and why not? Who was I to her? Just someone who'd walked in off the street, really. I was just someone who popped back into her life for a few minutes, then walked out on her again. Like everyone else I left her there, out of sight out of mind, to be forgotten until...you know.
I'm sorry for everything both my parents went through during my father's last years, that it wasn't a Bam! You're dead! Now get over it! situation. But I'm also glad my father was able to spend his last days, weeks, months on earth in his own home, that he had the dignity of dyign in his own bed. That's how I'd like to go.
Or take one last walk up into the mountains, and not come back down.
Or would I be happy in a Retirement Home if it had a LAN? Would I be content fragging the shit out of my geriatric neighbors? Or would it still weigh heavily on me every time my kids left with my grandkids, that maybe this goodbye is our last goodbye?
If you think about it, most Retirement Homes are very passive places. Old folks sit and watch TV, read the newspaper, or talk quietly among themselves. Or they sit & stare out the window as if wondering who will arrive first: Their kids & grandkids, or the Grim Reaper.
Several years ago I was out door-knocking (I think I was trying to raise money for a charity) and I went into a Retirement Home, thinking the old folks in there would probably be generous and willing to donate to a charity. But the second I walked in and saw all these old folks sitting there, waiting (& you know what they're waiting for), I changed my mind. But by this time I was already well inside the main sitting area, and one of the Orderlies was making his way over towards me.
I looked around at all the old folks just minding their own business and I asked myself what the hell had I been thinking.
And then I saw my Great Aunty. My Mother's Grandmother.
She used to live just a few doors up from us and I'd visit her all the time when I was a young boy. Then...I stopped visiting her. I can't remember why. Maybe it was because she'd been "put in The Home". (How cold does that sound? You "put your parents in a home".) Even though she'd been more of a Grandma to me than my actual Grandma, I hadn't thought about or seen her for years.
So I walked over and sat down next to her and re-introduced myself, because I had no clue if she'd remember who I was. I can't have been more than 12 years old the last time I saw her, and at this time I was a young man in my 20s. I explained how we were related, and sat and talked with her for a little while, although she seemed more inclined to chat with her neighbor than me, and why not? Who was I to her? Just someone who'd walked in off the street, really. I was just someone who popped back into her life for a few minutes, then walked out on her again. Like everyone else I left her there, out of sight out of mind, to be forgotten until...you know.
I'm sorry for everything both my parents went through during my father's last years, that it wasn't a Bam! You're dead! Now get over it! situation. But I'm also glad my father was able to spend his last days, weeks, months on earth in his own home, that he had the dignity of dyign in his own bed. That's how I'd like to go.
Or take one last walk up into the mountains, and not come back down.
Or would I be happy in a Retirement Home if it had a LAN? Would I be content fragging the shit out of my geriatric neighbors? Or would it still weigh heavily on me every time my kids left with my grandkids, that maybe this goodbye is our last goodbye?
PSA
I'd just like to take this opportunity to say...
OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!
Are you still here? Whadda ya think yer doing?
Get over to their website, NOW!
This is insane. They're releasing this on not just the PC & XBox, but the PSP and the DS! I can't imagine trying to play it on the DS...actually I can, but Damn! When you've got a game like this, you want it on at least a 19" screen.
Damn. Guess I'll be buying two copies of Diablo 3 and two copies of Bloodbowl this year...or next year :P
OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!
Are you still here? Whadda ya think yer doing?
Get over to their website, NOW!
This is insane. They're releasing this on not just the PC & XBox, but the PSP and the DS! I can't imagine trying to play it on the DS...actually I can, but Damn! When you've got a game like this, you want it on at least a 19" screen.
Damn. Guess I'll be buying two copies of Diablo 3 and two copies of Bloodbowl this year...or next year :P
Messing around
I decided to try a new Blog layout, so I've been messing around with the tools Blogger gives you to accomplish this. I like this layout because it's KISS. I can't stand Blogs with non-scrolling backgrounds that obliterate the text you're trying to read, or try too hard to get your attention. Maybe that's my conservative side coming out. What I also like about this layout is it's one of the very few Blogger has which expands the "entry/post" column with the size of the window.
Now, what about the color of the text? Is the standard black text still okay? What about the blue or the red I used in that previous entry? I'm pretty sure I can still mess with the HTML code to change text color, or just remember to change it here when I post.
Is anyone's Blog missing on the side (in the links) that used to be there? For some reason this new layout killed my regular Blog list while keeping my MOG Blog list. I tried to add back in as many as I could remember, but if I missed yours, or heck, if you read my Blog and just want me to add your Blog to my roll, drop me a line and I'll add it.
That's about it, for now ;)
Now, what about the color of the text? Is the standard black text still okay? What about the blue or the red I used in that previous entry? I'm pretty sure I can still mess with the HTML code to change text color, or just remember to change it here when I post.
Is anyone's Blog missing on the side (in the links) that used to be there? For some reason this new layout killed my regular Blog list while keeping my MOG Blog list. I tried to add back in as many as I could remember, but if I missed yours, or heck, if you read my Blog and just want me to add your Blog to my roll, drop me a line and I'll add it.
That's about it, for now ;)
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Getting your fix
A comment over on WWMD about the lengths D&D players will go to get their fix, including trying to play long distance using VOIP tech, inspired me to write this...
DM: Ok, Zygor. Roll to hit, please.
(Sound of dice rolling)
Zygor: Alright! Natural 20!
DM: Again? That's your fifth 20 in a row...not that I'm counting, or accusing you of cheating. But five 20s in a row?
Zygor: Man! I am ON..A..ROLL!!!
DM (sighing): Okay. Fine. Natural 20 it is.
DM (to self): Hmm. Could I? Should I? Yes. Yes, I shall!
DM (out loud): Mwah hah ha!
Zygor: You okay there, man?
DM: Um...er...ahem. Yes. Yeah. Oh, yeah. I'm good. Zygor, because you rolled those five 20s in a row, I need you to make one more throw for me.
Zygor (hesitatingly): Er...okay.
(Sound of dice rolling)
Zygor: It's...a...20?
DM: Are you sure?
Zygor (more confidently): Yep. It's a 20.
DM: Oh. That's too bad. Really. I'm sorry to say this but...
Zygor: Wait! WAIT! My mistake! It's not a 20! It's...a...1?
DM: A 1? You're positive now?
Zygor: Yes! Yes! It's a 1! It's quite clearly a 1! Definitely a 1!
DM: Oh. That's...even worse than the 20. Now not only does your sword break because of how powerful your recent blows have been...
Zygor: It breaks? My sword breaks? Whadda ya mean it breaks? It's a magical sword! It can cut through anything!
DM: Yes, it can, can't it? Which explains why the broken blade so easily penetrates your mithril armor and embeds itself in your stomach. Ooh, that's gotta hurt. Let's see how much.
(Sound of dice rolling)
DM: Oh.
(More dice rolling)
DM: Ooh.
(More dice rolling)
DM: Oh boy. Let's see now...carry the 1...divide by Pi...adjust for the phase of the moon and...Zygor? How much health do you have?
Zygor: Um...158 hit points?
DM: You don't sound too sure.
Zygor: No. No, it's 158. Definitely 158.
DM: That's what I thought too. So, after being stabbed in the belly by your own magical sword you now have 1 hit point left.
Zygor (faintly): 1...hit point...left?
DM: Yep, just the one. Now, as you stand there, dizzily clutching the broken blade protruding from your stomach, your Orc opponent swings his axe and...
(Sound of dice rolling)
DM: Well, whadda ya know? A 20! How about that. Zygor, I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you. Zygor? Zygor?
DM (breaking character): Bob? You there, buddy?
Bob (Zygor no longer): I think I'm going to lie down.
DM: Ok, Zygor. Roll to hit, please.
(Sound of dice rolling)
Zygor: Alright! Natural 20!
DM: Again? That's your fifth 20 in a row...not that I'm counting, or accusing you of cheating. But five 20s in a row?
Zygor: Man! I am ON..A..ROLL!!!
DM (sighing): Okay. Fine. Natural 20 it is.
DM (to self): Hmm. Could I? Should I? Yes. Yes, I shall!
DM (out loud): Mwah hah ha!
Zygor: You okay there, man?
DM: Um...er...ahem. Yes. Yeah. Oh, yeah. I'm good. Zygor, because you rolled those five 20s in a row, I need you to make one more throw for me.
Zygor (hesitatingly): Er...okay.
(Sound of dice rolling)
Zygor: It's...a...20?
DM: Are you sure?
Zygor (more confidently): Yep. It's a 20.
DM: Oh. That's too bad. Really. I'm sorry to say this but...
Zygor: Wait! WAIT! My mistake! It's not a 20! It's...a...1?
DM: A 1? You're positive now?
Zygor: Yes! Yes! It's a 1! It's quite clearly a 1! Definitely a 1!
DM: Oh. That's...even worse than the 20. Now not only does your sword break because of how powerful your recent blows have been...
Zygor: It breaks? My sword breaks? Whadda ya mean it breaks? It's a magical sword! It can cut through anything!
DM: Yes, it can, can't it? Which explains why the broken blade so easily penetrates your mithril armor and embeds itself in your stomach. Ooh, that's gotta hurt. Let's see how much.
(Sound of dice rolling)
DM: Oh.
(More dice rolling)
DM: Ooh.
(More dice rolling)
DM: Oh boy. Let's see now...carry the 1...divide by Pi...adjust for the phase of the moon and...Zygor? How much health do you have?
Zygor: Um...158 hit points?
DM: You don't sound too sure.
Zygor: No. No, it's 158. Definitely 158.
DM: That's what I thought too. So, after being stabbed in the belly by your own magical sword you now have 1 hit point left.
Zygor (faintly): 1...hit point...left?
DM: Yep, just the one. Now, as you stand there, dizzily clutching the broken blade protruding from your stomach, your Orc opponent swings his axe and...
(Sound of dice rolling)
DM: Well, whadda ya know? A 20! How about that. Zygor, I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you. Zygor? Zygor?
DM (breaking character): Bob? You there, buddy?
Bob (Zygor no longer): I think I'm going to lie down.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Yes, Virginia...
you know the rest, or should ;)
Coming out of Souplantation last night we were walking the kids to the car when The Bunny let out an excited squeal.
"SANTA!!!" she screamed, pointing across the parking lot to where a large, jolly looking fellow with a snowy white beard, a round belly...a red t-shirt? And a fluffy, white headband??? stood next to an old model VW Beetle.
"Santa" locked his car and came over to us so I stepped forward and apologized to him.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sure you get that a lot."
He smiled and said, "that's because I really am Santa. I'm on vacation." And he took something from a pocket. A stack of...business cards? He held one out and I looked at it, and for some reason I decided to let my son take it. Then "Santa" gave a card to The Bunny, or perhaps Liz took hers and passed it on. The kids took their card excitedly and climbed into the car as Santa rejoined his family and headed into Souplantation.
As my son buckled up his seatbelt I took his card from him and looked at it. It had a picture of Santa's smiling face, complete with red hat and white trim (not just a white headband), and had the caption "Santa sees all".
I flipped it over but the back was blank. No phone number. No email. No website. Nada. It wasn't a business card at all, just...I don't know what it was...something for "Santa" to give to the kids, I guess. I'm sure he caused quite a stir inside Souplantation.
As we pulled out of the parking lot we passed Santa's VW Beetle and I pointed it out to my son. "What's the license plate say?"
He looked at it. "Santa I ?" he said
"Santa One," I corrected. "The letter I is one in Roman Numerals."
Sometimes you need a little magic in your life. They help push out those memories of the time when you were a child and you saw Santa. Of course it wasn't the real Santa but a tubby Garbage Collector with a long beard, who didn't take kindly to you calling out "Hi, Santa!" Which is how you found yourself taking refuge in your mum's car while a very angry "Santa" stood outside, screaming at you through the window.
Fortunately last night's Santa behaved more like the real deal, than the belligerent impostor of my childhood.
If you've got a few years under your belt, and a few extra pounds around your waist, and a long, white beard, I think you should be willing to accept the occasional (or even frequent) case of mistaken identity.
Embrace the Santa.
Coming out of Souplantation last night we were walking the kids to the car when The Bunny let out an excited squeal.
"SANTA!!!" she screamed, pointing across the parking lot to where a large, jolly looking fellow with a snowy white beard, a round belly...a red t-shirt? And a fluffy, white headband??? stood next to an old model VW Beetle.
"Santa" locked his car and came over to us so I stepped forward and apologized to him.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sure you get that a lot."
He smiled and said, "that's because I really am Santa. I'm on vacation." And he took something from a pocket. A stack of...business cards? He held one out and I looked at it, and for some reason I decided to let my son take it. Then "Santa" gave a card to The Bunny, or perhaps Liz took hers and passed it on. The kids took their card excitedly and climbed into the car as Santa rejoined his family and headed into Souplantation.
As my son buckled up his seatbelt I took his card from him and looked at it. It had a picture of Santa's smiling face, complete with red hat and white trim (not just a white headband), and had the caption "Santa sees all".
I flipped it over but the back was blank. No phone number. No email. No website. Nada. It wasn't a business card at all, just...I don't know what it was...something for "Santa" to give to the kids, I guess. I'm sure he caused quite a stir inside Souplantation.
As we pulled out of the parking lot we passed Santa's VW Beetle and I pointed it out to my son. "What's the license plate say?"
He looked at it. "Santa I ?" he said
"Santa One," I corrected. "The letter I is one in Roman Numerals."
Sometimes you need a little magic in your life. They help push out those memories of the time when you were a child and you saw Santa. Of course it wasn't the real Santa but a tubby Garbage Collector with a long beard, who didn't take kindly to you calling out "Hi, Santa!" Which is how you found yourself taking refuge in your mum's car while a very angry "Santa" stood outside, screaming at you through the window.
Fortunately last night's Santa behaved more like the real deal, than the belligerent impostor of my childhood.
If you've got a few years under your belt, and a few extra pounds around your waist, and a long, white beard, I think you should be willing to accept the occasional (or even frequent) case of mistaken identity.
Embrace the Santa.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Debuffs in Wizard 101
Card Combat in W101 is not terribly complicated, but there are little tricks of which you might, or might not, be aware. For example, what is the correct order in which you should cast the following three debuff spells, in order to maximize their effectiveness, and why? For the sake of the argument, let's assume you're a Death Wizard facing another Death Wizard.
Take your time now.
I'm not going anywhere.
And I haven't worked out how to do a "more after the Break" thing in my Blog, or I'd put the answer after a "break".
Instead I have to rely on cheap delaying tactics, like this ;)
So, what order do you apply those Debuffs for maximum effectiveness versus another Death Wizard? You must cast Death Prism prior to casting Death Trap. Curse can be cast at any time, but you must cast Death Prism before casting Death Trap.
Why?
Because (currently) debuff spells go off using the LIFO method, that is the last Debuff you cast is the first to go off, while the first Debuff you cast goes off last.
So if you cast Death Trap before Death Prism (as I found out, to my detriment), Death Prism will go off prior to the Trap, thus converting your lovely Death School Damage into Life School Damage. And your Death Trap debuff, the one which increases the amount of Death Damage inflicted by 30%? It does nothing for Life School Damage.
But if you cast Death Prism before Death Trap, the Trap will go off and add 30% more damage to your Vampire Spell, then Death Prism will go off and convert your Death damage to Life, and Life has a boost effect on Death-school Mobs which is why we're using Death Prism ;)
So, Prism before Trap except after...well...never, really :P
P.S. For Bonus Marks, can anyone tell me if the Pips next to the Cards mean anything? Coz I have no idea why they're there. And it might be important. It's not the Pip/Mana cost of each spell, because all of those Debuffs are free to cast, hence the zero in the top left corner of each card.
Take your time now.
I'm not going anywhere.
And I haven't worked out how to do a "more after the Break" thing in my Blog, or I'd put the answer after a "break".
Instead I have to rely on cheap delaying tactics, like this ;)
So, what order do you apply those Debuffs for maximum effectiveness versus another Death Wizard? You must cast Death Prism prior to casting Death Trap. Curse can be cast at any time, but you must cast Death Prism before casting Death Trap.
Why?
Because (currently) debuff spells go off using the LIFO method, that is the last Debuff you cast is the first to go off, while the first Debuff you cast goes off last.
So if you cast Death Trap before Death Prism (as I found out, to my detriment), Death Prism will go off prior to the Trap, thus converting your lovely Death School Damage into Life School Damage. And your Death Trap debuff, the one which increases the amount of Death Damage inflicted by 30%? It does nothing for Life School Damage.
But if you cast Death Prism before Death Trap, the Trap will go off and add 30% more damage to your Vampire Spell, then Death Prism will go off and convert your Death damage to Life, and Life has a boost effect on Death-school Mobs which is why we're using Death Prism ;)
So, Prism before Trap except after...well...never, really :P
P.S. For Bonus Marks, can anyone tell me if the Pips next to the Cards mean anything? Coz I have no idea why they're there. And it might be important. It's not the Pip/Mana cost of each spell, because all of those Debuffs are free to cast, hence the zero in the top left corner of each card.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Death in Wizard 101
I must say, I am enjoying my Death Wizard. I haven't specialized in any other Schools, other than investing a few Training Points to get access to Shields/Wards to help better protect me against them. Death Wizards are very versatile, and very soloable, in that their (or at least my) primary attack returns half the damage I inflict back to me, but as health, so a 750 point attack will heal me for 375. It's not a lot, but when combined with Wards to reduce incoming damage it's enough to keep me going, and going, and going.
Like Saylah I find myself soloing a lot of W101's content, and a Death Wizard is very well suited to do just that. I even soloed The Ironworks Instance in Marleybone, twice. There were a couple of close calls but nothing so close that I was freaking out. Usually it was just my Health falling below 500 points before I was able to deal out the finishing blow.
Your Soloing ability is also greatly enhanced by use of RMT or Crown Gear, and my Death Wizard has the 25 RMT Cloak and Boots, but not the fugly Hats. After that last horribly inappropriate outfit, as much as it would have benefited me, I couldn't even bring myself to buy the 30 RMT Hat, which looks not unlike the Jester-style Hat I had at level 12.
That Cap of the Banshee is my current Hat, which you'll get to see later.
I thought about farming the Boss-dropped Death School Hat, so I looked up where it dropped. It only drops off the final Marleybone Boss, Moewiarty himself, who is located on the 15th Floor of the Big Ben Instance. Yeah, like I'm really going to "farm" him, running the Instance numerous times, just to get a hat which is not only inferior to the RMT Hat...but still makes me look like a freaking Court Jester!!!
The game rewarded my adherence to style with the Cap of the Banshee:
While it may not give me a Health Buff like the RMT & Boss Hats, and there's no extra chance of a Power Pip, nor increased Accuracy, it does come with a +4% Attack Bonus to my Death spells, and a +8% Resistance to Death magicks. Ok, so that's not as good as the overall Offense and Defensive bonuses of the RMT Hat, but who cares? It's a freaking Bowler! Not only does it look totally cool, but it dropped in the very same color you see in the picture. It came matched for my outfit! And, I may be the only one to say it, but I think it completes the look, and my Death Wizard looks like a real Uber bad ass in it :)
John Shadowblade...Undead Hunter?
Damn straight!
Like Saylah I find myself soloing a lot of W101's content, and a Death Wizard is very well suited to do just that. I even soloed The Ironworks Instance in Marleybone, twice. There were a couple of close calls but nothing so close that I was freaking out. Usually it was just my Health falling below 500 points before I was able to deal out the finishing blow.
Your Soloing ability is also greatly enhanced by use of RMT or Crown Gear, and my Death Wizard has the 25 RMT Cloak and Boots, but not the fugly Hats. After that last horribly inappropriate outfit, as much as it would have benefited me, I couldn't even bring myself to buy the 30 RMT Hat, which looks not unlike the Jester-style Hat I had at level 12.
That Cap of the Banshee is my current Hat, which you'll get to see later.I thought about farming the Boss-dropped Death School Hat, so I looked up where it dropped. It only drops off the final Marleybone Boss, Moewiarty himself, who is located on the 15th Floor of the Big Ben Instance. Yeah, like I'm really going to "farm" him, running the Instance numerous times, just to get a hat which is not only inferior to the RMT Hat...but still makes me look like a freaking Court Jester!!!
The game rewarded my adherence to style with the Cap of the Banshee:
While it may not give me a Health Buff like the RMT & Boss Hats, and there's no extra chance of a Power Pip, nor increased Accuracy, it does come with a +4% Attack Bonus to my Death spells, and a +8% Resistance to Death magicks. Ok, so that's not as good as the overall Offense and Defensive bonuses of the RMT Hat, but who cares? It's a freaking Bowler! Not only does it look totally cool, but it dropped in the very same color you see in the picture. It came matched for my outfit! And, I may be the only one to say it, but I think it completes the look, and my Death Wizard looks like a real Uber bad ass in it :)
John Shadowblade...Undead Hunter?Damn straight!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
What the??? Where'd that come from?
Drat that Mogs and her newly discovered archery skills.
Six random things about me.
Random? How does one decide what constitutes randomness?
Just like Mogs,
1. I also like to hunt (but haven't for quite some time). My implement of choice is a 12-gauge shotgun, loaded for bunny, of course ;)
2. I can shoot a bow too, and am purty darn good at it, or I used to be. I could reliably put an arrow into a 4" circle at 20 metres (approx. 65 feet).
3. I once beat a semi-professional swimmer at his own game.
4. I could climb before I could walk. Classic example was my mum coming into the living room and finding me sitting on top of our television set.
5. I once helped out a mate by replacing his car's broken tail-light with a unit I found...in a used car lot...on the back of another car.
6. English is my first (& only) language, and I love to read, but I was terrible at English (the subject) in High School.
Mogs? Do I need to Tag someone else now? I could Tag my wife, but I think she's given up on blogging. Xinh, however, she's pretty reliable about doing these things.
Xinh? Tag! You're it!
Six random things about me.
Random? How does one decide what constitutes randomness?
Just like Mogs,
1. I also like to hunt (but haven't for quite some time). My implement of choice is a 12-gauge shotgun, loaded for bunny, of course ;)
2. I can shoot a bow too, and am purty darn good at it, or I used to be. I could reliably put an arrow into a 4" circle at 20 metres (approx. 65 feet).
3. I once beat a semi-professional swimmer at his own game.
4. I could climb before I could walk. Classic example was my mum coming into the living room and finding me sitting on top of our television set.
5. I once helped out a mate by replacing his car's broken tail-light with a unit I found...in a used car lot...on the back of another car.
6. English is my first (& only) language, and I love to read, but I was terrible at English (the subject) in High School.
Mogs? Do I need to Tag someone else now? I could Tag my wife, but I think she's given up on blogging. Xinh, however, she's pretty reliable about doing these things.
Xinh? Tag! You're it!
Monday, January 19, 2009
What happens in Vegas...
doesn't always stay in Vegas.
Friday afternoon we dropped the dog off at the in-laws (who already had the kids) and the FIL pissed Liz off by making fun of the list she gave him, such as locking the dog in her crate at night. We should have had JE watch A Night at the Museum with him, so he could see what happens to people who don't follow directions. Of course they didn't lock in the dog in her crate on Saturday night, so she repaid their "kindness" by taking a dump outside their downstair's bathroom. They still thought she was a good dog.
Saturday morning we were off to Vegas, and we made pretty good time right up until we hit Primm, Whisky Pete's, and...the Fashion Outlet. After returning a Coach purse for Liz that she'd bought last time we were in Vegas, along with visiting numerous other stores where more items were purchased which will (probably) be returned at a later date, we resumed our journey. Thanks to our GPS the trip was fairly uneventful, except thanks to the almost, never-ending construction going on around The Strip we missed our turn-off to the Monte Carlo. We had to drive a mile further up the road then come back down The Strip, where we encountered more construction, road works, etc.
And let's not forget the Vegas pedestrians who are worse than the elderly Chinese folks you run into (or would, if it wasn't illegal) in Chinatown.
Oh look, we need to turn right here, and we have a Green Right Turn arrow but...there's people crossing the road. Both roads. People are both crossing the road in front of us, and crossing the road into which we want to turn. Then there was the woman in the car ahead of us who refused to turn at a Green Right Turn arrow. Possibly because the other lights were Red. Maybe because she'd found herself in a Right-turn only lane and she wanted to go straight ahead. We tooted her, the car next to her tooted her, Pedestrians on the sidewalk even tried to wave her around the corner. Finally she made her turn...just as the light changed and all the pedestrians began crossing the road. After Liz zipped through a gap in the pedestrians (don't ask how an SUV zips through a gap between pedestrians, it just does) we made our right-hand turn, and found the woman pulled over to the side of the road. Yup. Lost.
We checked into our room and found not a single, King-sized bed as requested but two Queens. Not only that, but for a non-Smoking room on a non-Smoking floor, it sure smelled like someone had been smoking. And look, here's an ash tray on the table. An ash tray, in a non-Smoking room. Just lovely.
I called down to the front desk and was informed they had no other King-sized bedrooms left on non-Smoking floors. So we took what they did have. Our second room turned out to be on the third floor, at the very end of the hall, and had a fantastic view of the Monte Carlo's second floor roof top. Our previous room had been on the 22nd floor, right off the elevator lobby, so I was pleased to get a room which would see zero foot traffic, and indeed it did prove remarkably quiet.
We went downstairs, hit the Casino, and found the Jackpot Dance Party machines that we'd enjoyed playing last time (it has a mini Bonus game that pops up occasionally and gives you a chance to win extra credits). Unfortunately we only found two of this particular machine, and both were being played, so we found a couple of other machines that looked like fun and settled down. We don't go to Vegas to get rich, we go to have fun, except these two machines weren't fun, and we were losing our money too quickly, so Liz went in search of a different machine while I waited for the waitress to return with the beers we'd ordered.
While waiting for our beers I watched another woman play a different machine, and a combination of a long wait for our beers, my non-playing, and my observation of this other woman playing managed to draw the attention of Security, because suddenly I had a large guy standing over me asking me in a jovial, but very direct, no-nonsense manner, "Where is your Player's Club card, and why aren't you playing?"
Now I've done some things in my life before which should have attracted the attention of security, but never did, so their arrival this time greatly amused me and I literally laughed out loud. I explained that I was waiting for the waitress to return with the beers I'd ordered, and that as soon as she showed up I was going to search for my wife who'd gone off to play another machine.
Taken by my accent the first Security guy (there were two of them) responded that as soon as he got home he was going to turn on the BBC. But the second Security guard had a better ear for accents and had me pegged as an Aussie, and he chastised his friend. We chatted for a couple of minutes then the cocktail waitress turned up with my beers, lending credence to my story. "Here's my beers," I said, tipping the waitress. "Now I just need to find my wife." The waitress remember Liz and told me she was just around the corner, and she was. My wife had been sitting right on the other side of my bank of games, and judging by the grin on her face, she'd over-heard my close encounter of the Security kind, too ;)
After playing our new machines for a while I was up a couple of dollars but Liz had lost several dollars so together we were a few dollars in the hole. I'm not trying to make light of our losses. We go to have fun not get rich, but we don't plan to lose our life savings either, so we play the Penny Slots. Yep, we're real high rollers, we are ;)
Actually I did play Blackjack once at $5 a hand. I'd allowed myself a stake of $50 before I knew what the table limit was, and even after seeing it was $5 a hand I still decided to play. I'd won a few hands but lost more and I was down to my last $10 when the cards started falling my way again. Half an hour later I'd won more hands than I'd lost and I had $50 in front of me once again, at which point I stood up, tipped the dealer $5 and walked away.
So now we just play the Penny Slots.
We played for a while then I went to the Box Office and secured our tickets to see Lance Burton, then Liz and I hit the Monte Carlo's buffet. We leisurely stuffed ourselves on all the fine food available, then with full bellies, wandered across the casino and into the Lance Burton Theater. Lance was pretty good, although I think both Liz and I would have liked to see Penn & Teller, if only they weren't so freaking expensive. As a bonus, there was a very humorous half-time show by a juggler and his stage hand.
After the show Liz and I wandered up The Strip but didn't get much further than Planet Hollywood's Miracle Mile Shops, where we strolled around, watched the indoor thunder storm, and bought more stuff.
Sunday morning we sampled the breakfast buffet at the Monte Carlo before heading up the I-15 to yet another Outlet Mall where...we returned the pair of jeans we bought at the Outlet Mall at Primms.
We also did a spot more gambling, again on the Penny slots, again on the machine we like playing. There was a lady playing at the machine Liz had been playing the previous day (& losing), so Liz sat down at the machine which I'd been playing (& winning) and fed in $5. Within minutes (or so it seemed), Liz won a 250 credit Jackpot (Woohoo! $2.50! Yes! In your face!) then the bonus game came up and Liz won another 500 credits.
That was about when the lady next to Liz decided to leave. I didn't have much luck with her old machine and by the time we walked away Liz had won back everything she'd lost the day before, but now I was down a couple of dollars. As I said, we play to have fun, we won some, we lost some, we broke even, we had fun :)
Sunday night we ate at the Bellagio, then we killed our feet some more walking up The Strip before riding The Deuce back down to the Monte Carlo.
That morning we'd discovered another good thing about our room, it faced north, so when the sun came up it beat down on the opposite side of the building instead of shining in our window. This made sleeping in very easy, and both Sunday & Monday morning we slept late. Sunday we made the breakfast buffet at the Monte Carlo with just half an hour to spare, and before we were done eating the lunch selections had already been brought out, so we got the best of both worlds.
Friday afternoon we dropped the dog off at the in-laws (who already had the kids) and the FIL pissed Liz off by making fun of the list she gave him, such as locking the dog in her crate at night. We should have had JE watch A Night at the Museum with him, so he could see what happens to people who don't follow directions. Of course they didn't lock in the dog in her crate on Saturday night, so she repaid their "kindness" by taking a dump outside their downstair's bathroom. They still thought she was a good dog.
Saturday morning we were off to Vegas, and we made pretty good time right up until we hit Primm, Whisky Pete's, and...the Fashion Outlet. After returning a Coach purse for Liz that she'd bought last time we were in Vegas, along with visiting numerous other stores where more items were purchased which will (probably) be returned at a later date, we resumed our journey. Thanks to our GPS the trip was fairly uneventful, except thanks to the almost, never-ending construction going on around The Strip we missed our turn-off to the Monte Carlo. We had to drive a mile further up the road then come back down The Strip, where we encountered more construction, road works, etc.
And let's not forget the Vegas pedestrians who are worse than the elderly Chinese folks you run into (or would, if it wasn't illegal) in Chinatown.
Oh look, we need to turn right here, and we have a Green Right Turn arrow but...there's people crossing the road. Both roads. People are both crossing the road in front of us, and crossing the road into which we want to turn. Then there was the woman in the car ahead of us who refused to turn at a Green Right Turn arrow. Possibly because the other lights were Red. Maybe because she'd found herself in a Right-turn only lane and she wanted to go straight ahead. We tooted her, the car next to her tooted her, Pedestrians on the sidewalk even tried to wave her around the corner. Finally she made her turn...just as the light changed and all the pedestrians began crossing the road. After Liz zipped through a gap in the pedestrians (don't ask how an SUV zips through a gap between pedestrians, it just does) we made our right-hand turn, and found the woman pulled over to the side of the road. Yup. Lost.
We checked into our room and found not a single, King-sized bed as requested but two Queens. Not only that, but for a non-Smoking room on a non-Smoking floor, it sure smelled like someone had been smoking. And look, here's an ash tray on the table. An ash tray, in a non-Smoking room. Just lovely.
I called down to the front desk and was informed they had no other King-sized bedrooms left on non-Smoking floors. So we took what they did have. Our second room turned out to be on the third floor, at the very end of the hall, and had a fantastic view of the Monte Carlo's second floor roof top. Our previous room had been on the 22nd floor, right off the elevator lobby, so I was pleased to get a room which would see zero foot traffic, and indeed it did prove remarkably quiet.
We went downstairs, hit the Casino, and found the Jackpot Dance Party machines that we'd enjoyed playing last time (it has a mini Bonus game that pops up occasionally and gives you a chance to win extra credits). Unfortunately we only found two of this particular machine, and both were being played, so we found a couple of other machines that looked like fun and settled down. We don't go to Vegas to get rich, we go to have fun, except these two machines weren't fun, and we were losing our money too quickly, so Liz went in search of a different machine while I waited for the waitress to return with the beers we'd ordered.
While waiting for our beers I watched another woman play a different machine, and a combination of a long wait for our beers, my non-playing, and my observation of this other woman playing managed to draw the attention of Security, because suddenly I had a large guy standing over me asking me in a jovial, but very direct, no-nonsense manner, "Where is your Player's Club card, and why aren't you playing?"
Now I've done some things in my life before which should have attracted the attention of security, but never did, so their arrival this time greatly amused me and I literally laughed out loud. I explained that I was waiting for the waitress to return with the beers I'd ordered, and that as soon as she showed up I was going to search for my wife who'd gone off to play another machine.
Taken by my accent the first Security guy (there were two of them) responded that as soon as he got home he was going to turn on the BBC. But the second Security guard had a better ear for accents and had me pegged as an Aussie, and he chastised his friend. We chatted for a couple of minutes then the cocktail waitress turned up with my beers, lending credence to my story. "Here's my beers," I said, tipping the waitress. "Now I just need to find my wife." The waitress remember Liz and told me she was just around the corner, and she was. My wife had been sitting right on the other side of my bank of games, and judging by the grin on her face, she'd over-heard my close encounter of the Security kind, too ;)
After playing our new machines for a while I was up a couple of dollars but Liz had lost several dollars so together we were a few dollars in the hole. I'm not trying to make light of our losses. We go to have fun not get rich, but we don't plan to lose our life savings either, so we play the Penny Slots. Yep, we're real high rollers, we are ;)
Actually I did play Blackjack once at $5 a hand. I'd allowed myself a stake of $50 before I knew what the table limit was, and even after seeing it was $5 a hand I still decided to play. I'd won a few hands but lost more and I was down to my last $10 when the cards started falling my way again. Half an hour later I'd won more hands than I'd lost and I had $50 in front of me once again, at which point I stood up, tipped the dealer $5 and walked away.
So now we just play the Penny Slots.
We played for a while then I went to the Box Office and secured our tickets to see Lance Burton, then Liz and I hit the Monte Carlo's buffet. We leisurely stuffed ourselves on all the fine food available, then with full bellies, wandered across the casino and into the Lance Burton Theater. Lance was pretty good, although I think both Liz and I would have liked to see Penn & Teller, if only they weren't so freaking expensive. As a bonus, there was a very humorous half-time show by a juggler and his stage hand.
After the show Liz and I wandered up The Strip but didn't get much further than Planet Hollywood's Miracle Mile Shops, where we strolled around, watched the indoor thunder storm, and bought more stuff.
Sunday morning we sampled the breakfast buffet at the Monte Carlo before heading up the I-15 to yet another Outlet Mall where...we returned the pair of jeans we bought at the Outlet Mall at Primms.
We also did a spot more gambling, again on the Penny slots, again on the machine we like playing. There was a lady playing at the machine Liz had been playing the previous day (& losing), so Liz sat down at the machine which I'd been playing (& winning) and fed in $5. Within minutes (or so it seemed), Liz won a 250 credit Jackpot (Woohoo! $2.50! Yes! In your face!) then the bonus game came up and Liz won another 500 credits.
That was about when the lady next to Liz decided to leave. I didn't have much luck with her old machine and by the time we walked away Liz had won back everything she'd lost the day before, but now I was down a couple of dollars. As I said, we play to have fun, we won some, we lost some, we broke even, we had fun :)
Sunday night we ate at the Bellagio, then we killed our feet some more walking up The Strip before riding The Deuce back down to the Monte Carlo.
That morning we'd discovered another good thing about our room, it faced north, so when the sun came up it beat down on the opposite side of the building instead of shining in our window. This made sleeping in very easy, and both Sunday & Monday morning we slept late. Sunday we made the breakfast buffet at the Monte Carlo with just half an hour to spare, and before we were done eating the lunch selections had already been brought out, so we got the best of both worlds.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Wanted! Dead or Alive!
BugHunter has a post up about a 'date' he & his wife recently went on to Body Worlds. That may not sound like a great date to you, but BH & his wife apparently had a great time (other than the delays, long lines, and crappy customer service), and I would have thought it was pretty cool, too (other than the delays, long lines, & crappy customer service).
When I did a search for Body Worlds, one of the links that popped up caught my eye: How much is your body worth?
Intrigued, I clicked on this Cadaver Calculator, and this is what I found out:
What about you? Are you worth more Dead than Alive?
*Edit* After answering the 20-question quiz you will be prompted to sign up for something like Mingle (an online Dating service), but in small print at the bottom will be a link you can click to say "No thanks, take me to my quiz results."
When I did a search for Body Worlds, one of the links that popped up caught my eye: How much is your body worth?
Intrigued, I clicked on this Cadaver Calculator, and this is what I found out:
What about you? Are you worth more Dead than Alive?
*Edit* After answering the 20-question quiz you will be prompted to sign up for something like Mingle (an online Dating service), but in small print at the bottom will be a link you can click to say "No thanks, take me to my quiz results."
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Welcome to the new regime
Now with hand-picked press conferences.
According to Chicago Sun-Times Journalist Carol Marin, many of the journalists at press conferences for President-elect Barack Obama (what? You thought this was about G.W.?) "don't even bother raising our hands any more to ask questions because Obama always has before him a list of correspondents who've been advised they will be called upon that day."
So certain Journalists at the press conferences are pre-approved to ask questions, and if you're not on that pre-approved list, don't even bother trying to get the President-elect's attention.
Yeah, so what if this has been going on down through the ages? So what if G.W. did it, too. It's too late to go Bush Bashing (unless you've got a Holden Ute, then I'm in), we're entering the Age of Obama, baby!
And all I have to say to that is: Don't blame me. I voted Libertarian.
According to Chicago Sun-Times Journalist Carol Marin, many of the journalists at press conferences for President-elect Barack Obama (what? You thought this was about G.W.?) "don't even bother raising our hands any more to ask questions because Obama always has before him a list of correspondents who've been advised they will be called upon that day."
So certain Journalists at the press conferences are pre-approved to ask questions, and if you're not on that pre-approved list, don't even bother trying to get the President-elect's attention.
Yeah, so what if this has been going on down through the ages? So what if G.W. did it, too. It's too late to go Bush Bashing (unless you've got a Holden Ute, then I'm in), we're entering the Age of Obama, baby!
And all I have to say to that is: Don't blame me. I voted Libertarian.
Monday, January 12, 2009
And here we go again...
It's the twelfth of January, already. How did that happen? We're almost two full weeks into the year, just like that.
This year promises to be a big one, too. I'm not talking about any of you, I mean for me. I was born in 1969 so this is the year I turn 40.
Thank heavens there's a couple of mates who'll hit the big Four-Oh before me ;)
Don't bother clicking their links, the slack buggers haven't updated their Blogs in donkey's :P
40 years old.
Technically I'm already in my 40th year, because each birthday actually celebrates the culmination of another year since you were born. And because I was born on August 30th, and there's just 7 1/2 months until my birthday, if you believe life begins at conception then I'm already over 40 years old.
What have I done during these past 40 years that's actually note worthy?
When I was about 4-5 I fell out of a tree, dropping approximately 15' to the ground where I struck my head on a concrete lawn edging. Oh yes, there was blood.
At maybe 8-10 years old I pushed a basketball out to my little sister and probably saved her from drowning.
As a teenager I won a couple of ribbons for athletics in High School, and even represented my school in an inter-school tournament.
I also finished second in a regional marathon (my first & only), then waited around for the presentation ceremony where I discovered that just as in life, there's no prize for coming in second; you're just the first loser.
At 19 years old I crashed my grandparents' car into a very large tree. The tree survived, the car did not.
At 20 years old I competed in the Victorian State Karate Championships, where I had the dubious distinction of being eliminated by the eventual Winner of my Division. It wasn't really that big of a deal. Just like in Karate Kid, anyone with their Sensei's approval could compete :P
In my late 20s I flew to the U.S. to meet a woman I'd met on the internet. Later we got married, and eventually had two kids.
I also completed my University degree here in the States. I graduated in absentia, but my parents were still proud of me.
And that's been my life, so far.
What haven't I done?
The only goal I set for myself (that I recall) which I never actually accomplished was to race Puffing Billy.
I also don't own a classic (pre-70's) Ford Mustang, but there's still time for that ;)
Oh, I also never became a millionaire by 30 years of age, because the system I had for betting on Horse Races worked brilliantly in the data gathering stages, but failed miserably when it was actually put into practice.
This year promises to be a big one, too. I'm not talking about any of you, I mean for me. I was born in 1969 so this is the year I turn 40.
Thank heavens there's a couple of mates who'll hit the big Four-Oh before me ;)
Don't bother clicking their links, the slack buggers haven't updated their Blogs in donkey's :P
40 years old.
Technically I'm already in my 40th year, because each birthday actually celebrates the culmination of another year since you were born. And because I was born on August 30th, and there's just 7 1/2 months until my birthday, if you believe life begins at conception then I'm already over 40 years old.
What have I done during these past 40 years that's actually note worthy?
When I was about 4-5 I fell out of a tree, dropping approximately 15' to the ground where I struck my head on a concrete lawn edging. Oh yes, there was blood.
At maybe 8-10 years old I pushed a basketball out to my little sister and probably saved her from drowning.
As a teenager I won a couple of ribbons for athletics in High School, and even represented my school in an inter-school tournament.
I also finished second in a regional marathon (my first & only), then waited around for the presentation ceremony where I discovered that just as in life, there's no prize for coming in second; you're just the first loser.
At 19 years old I crashed my grandparents' car into a very large tree. The tree survived, the car did not.
At 20 years old I competed in the Victorian State Karate Championships, where I had the dubious distinction of being eliminated by the eventual Winner of my Division. It wasn't really that big of a deal. Just like in Karate Kid, anyone with their Sensei's approval could compete :P
In my late 20s I flew to the U.S. to meet a woman I'd met on the internet. Later we got married, and eventually had two kids.
I also completed my University degree here in the States. I graduated in absentia, but my parents were still proud of me.
And that's been my life, so far.
What haven't I done?
The only goal I set for myself (that I recall) which I never actually accomplished was to race Puffing Billy.
I also don't own a classic (pre-70's) Ford Mustang, but there's still time for that ;)
Oh, I also never became a millionaire by 30 years of age, because the system I had for betting on Horse Races worked brilliantly in the data gathering stages, but failed miserably when it was actually put into practice.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Now I know...
why Garfield, and Bob Geldof & The Boomtown Rats don't like Mondays.
You know what's worse than opening a pistachio nut and thinking it's moldy?
Discovering the "fuzz" on the nut is actually the remnants of a cocoon spun by a little grub. And look! There it is! Roasted in its little niche, inside the pistachio nut.
You know what's worse than that?
Looking at the pile of empty shells from the pistachios you've already eaten.
You know what's worse than opening a pistachio nut and thinking it's moldy?
Discovering the "fuzz" on the nut is actually the remnants of a cocoon spun by a little grub. And look! There it is! Roasted in its little niche, inside the pistachio nut.
You know what's worse than that?
Looking at the pile of empty shells from the pistachios you've already eaten.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Inappropriate work attire
My Life Wizard made it to Moo Shu, but because my son and I haven't been playing together as much my son's Wizard is still stuck back in Marleybone, so I rolled a Death Wizard, a big, bad Necromancer to play in the meantime. He's actually kind of fun. Whereas my Life Wizard has low damage but the ability to heal himself, my Necromancer can heal himself by sucking the life right out of his opponent. Other than my Life Wizards (yes, I have two :P) he's the only Wizard I've played that beat Golem Tower before hitting level 10. In fact I did it twice in a row with my Necromancer, with him at just level 5.
At level 12 you begin a chain quest to get a totally new outfit, and I was really looking forward to completing this quest as every piece is almost always an upgrade.
Here's my Necromancer before equipping his new level 12 Quest pieces.
Prior to this I had a Black robe with Purple Trim, and I would have dyed this one the same, but I figured I was getting an upgrade soon so I didn't need to waste the Gold, likewise with the Hat. The Boots were originally black so I didn't bother dying them.
Then I completed the quest chain and got my new clothes. Alright! Let's see what my Necromancer/Death Wizard looks like in his new clothes!!!
What the fuck is this?! Excuse me! I'm a Necromancer! A Master of the Undead! I can't go running around looking like this! What the hell were the designers thinking? I know this is a game targeting the kiddies, but come on!
Actually, I'm keeping the Robe, but the obscenely tall & pointed hat, with the flower on the side? Uh uh. The shoes can go, too. It's a good thing that quest chain provides you with a decent chunk of XP (I leveled twice while doing it) because the Quest Rewards (for a Necromancer) suck. The hat would provide me with 14 more Health and +3% Resistance to Death Magic, while the Boots would have me exchange +3 Dmg for +2% Resistance to Death Magic (same Health, before & after). I can live without that. I might go dye my new Robe though, if it's not too expensive :P
At level 12 you begin a chain quest to get a totally new outfit, and I was really looking forward to completing this quest as every piece is almost always an upgrade.
Here's my Necromancer before equipping his new level 12 Quest pieces.
Prior to this I had a Black robe with Purple Trim, and I would have dyed this one the same, but I figured I was getting an upgrade soon so I didn't need to waste the Gold, likewise with the Hat. The Boots were originally black so I didn't bother dying them.
Then I completed the quest chain and got my new clothes. Alright! Let's see what my Necromancer/Death Wizard looks like in his new clothes!!!
What the fuck is this?! Excuse me! I'm a Necromancer! A Master of the Undead! I can't go running around looking like this! What the hell were the designers thinking? I know this is a game targeting the kiddies, but come on!
Actually, I'm keeping the Robe, but the obscenely tall & pointed hat, with the flower on the side? Uh uh. The shoes can go, too. It's a good thing that quest chain provides you with a decent chunk of XP (I leveled twice while doing it) because the Quest Rewards (for a Necromancer) suck. The hat would provide me with 14 more Health and +3% Resistance to Death Magic, while the Boots would have me exchange +3 Dmg for +2% Resistance to Death Magic (same Health, before & after). I can live without that. I might go dye my new Robe though, if it's not too expensive :P
Friday, January 02, 2009
When do you let go?
For too long JE had training wheels on his bike, and it was far too rarely that he actually went out and rode. I knew I'd been a poor father when picking up the Bunny from Preschool I saw several of her 4 y/old classmates riding around the playground, on 2-wheel bikes. Oops! Big Oops.
I don't know how old I was when my father taught me to ride a 2-wheel bike, but I never had a bike with training wheels; I went straight from Trike to Bike. I remember being envious of the younger kids with training wheels on their bikes, even though I could already ride a 2-wheeler. I remember talking with one girl who said her Dad had taken one of the training wheels off her younger brother's bike, but she said he didn't even need one training wheel because she'd seen him riding his friends' 2-wheel bikes with no problems.
So when I figured it was time for JE to lose the training wheels, I just took one of them off. That was actually a mistake. Instead of trying to balance, JE would just lean over to the training wheel side. So I took that wheel off too, then holding his seat or handle bars I trotted along beside him while he freaked out. It became almost impossible to get him back on the bike. I had to tell myself not to give in, not to put the training wheels back on.
In a local Thrift Store Liz and I discovered a pre-loved Razor Scooter which looked like it still had quite a few rides left in it. I figured this was a good way for JE to learn to balance on two wheels, or more to the point, to have the confidence in his own ability to balance on two wheels. At first he'd be almost constantly pushing off with one foot, but as his confidence grew he began scooting for longer and longer distances between pushes. We got our daughter a scooter of her own, too, so with both kids having Scooters, and Southern California having somewhat mild winters (except when it pours down raining, which isn't that often), the kids were able to get out and ride a lot.
Every now & then I'd put JE on his bike, and holding onto his seat and running alongside him, we'd do a couple of laps up & down the driveway. Then I realized the little guy had outgrown his old bike; his knees were almost up around his ears as he pedaled, even with the seat fully raised up. It was time to get him a new bike.
With a donation from one Aunty we bought JE a new, bigger bike for Christmas, and as small as it was, it was still pretty tough getting it into and out of the back of the SUV (it came pre-built) then wrestling it into our storage closet until Christmas. Naturally when the big day arrived it was pouring rain, so JE had to wait until the next day to go out on his new bike.
But when he did, what progress he'd made!
I ran along beside/behind him, not quite holding his seat, and he'd ride from one end of the driveway to the other (probably 50 metres or so), then turn around, sometimes on his own, and ride back. Occasionally I'd catch him from toppling over, but more often than not he'd catch himself. He was wobbling all over the place, but he wasn't going down.
And I found myself in a situation that as a parent, I'll have to face quite a few more times in the future, with both of my children.
Letting go.
I'm sure my son can ride by himself without my help. He's already demonstrated that he can turn 180-degrees and right the bike before tipping over. He has trouble getting started without my help, but I seem to recall that was a problem I faced myself when learning to ride. I tried to show him how to push off while standing on one pedal, much like you do on a scooter, but he preferred to start riding while already seated, with me helping him maintain balance. I also recall I used to lean my bike against the fence, climb on, then begin pedaling while simultaneously pushing my bike off the fence.
My son can ride his bike by himself, the issue at hand is him having the confidence to do it all by himself, and not losing that confidence when he takes his first fall, but getting straight back on and riding again. But that's not going to happen if I don't let go.
As parents we need to learn to let go; we need to let our children spread their wings and fly. They'll always be our babies, but they won't always be children.
I don't know how old I was when my father taught me to ride a 2-wheel bike, but I never had a bike with training wheels; I went straight from Trike to Bike. I remember being envious of the younger kids with training wheels on their bikes, even though I could already ride a 2-wheeler. I remember talking with one girl who said her Dad had taken one of the training wheels off her younger brother's bike, but she said he didn't even need one training wheel because she'd seen him riding his friends' 2-wheel bikes with no problems.
So when I figured it was time for JE to lose the training wheels, I just took one of them off. That was actually a mistake. Instead of trying to balance, JE would just lean over to the training wheel side. So I took that wheel off too, then holding his seat or handle bars I trotted along beside him while he freaked out. It became almost impossible to get him back on the bike. I had to tell myself not to give in, not to put the training wheels back on.
In a local Thrift Store Liz and I discovered a pre-loved Razor Scooter which looked like it still had quite a few rides left in it. I figured this was a good way for JE to learn to balance on two wheels, or more to the point, to have the confidence in his own ability to balance on two wheels. At first he'd be almost constantly pushing off with one foot, but as his confidence grew he began scooting for longer and longer distances between pushes. We got our daughter a scooter of her own, too, so with both kids having Scooters, and Southern California having somewhat mild winters (except when it pours down raining, which isn't that often), the kids were able to get out and ride a lot.
Every now & then I'd put JE on his bike, and holding onto his seat and running alongside him, we'd do a couple of laps up & down the driveway. Then I realized the little guy had outgrown his old bike; his knees were almost up around his ears as he pedaled, even with the seat fully raised up. It was time to get him a new bike.
With a donation from one Aunty we bought JE a new, bigger bike for Christmas, and as small as it was, it was still pretty tough getting it into and out of the back of the SUV (it came pre-built) then wrestling it into our storage closet until Christmas. Naturally when the big day arrived it was pouring rain, so JE had to wait until the next day to go out on his new bike.
But when he did, what progress he'd made!
I ran along beside/behind him, not quite holding his seat, and he'd ride from one end of the driveway to the other (probably 50 metres or so), then turn around, sometimes on his own, and ride back. Occasionally I'd catch him from toppling over, but more often than not he'd catch himself. He was wobbling all over the place, but he wasn't going down.
And I found myself in a situation that as a parent, I'll have to face quite a few more times in the future, with both of my children.
Letting go.
I'm sure my son can ride by himself without my help. He's already demonstrated that he can turn 180-degrees and right the bike before tipping over. He has trouble getting started without my help, but I seem to recall that was a problem I faced myself when learning to ride. I tried to show him how to push off while standing on one pedal, much like you do on a scooter, but he preferred to start riding while already seated, with me helping him maintain balance. I also recall I used to lean my bike against the fence, climb on, then begin pedaling while simultaneously pushing my bike off the fence.
My son can ride his bike by himself, the issue at hand is him having the confidence to do it all by himself, and not losing that confidence when he takes his first fall, but getting straight back on and riding again. But that's not going to happen if I don't let go.
As parents we need to learn to let go; we need to let our children spread their wings and fly. They'll always be our babies, but they won't always be children.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Straight No Chaser, 10 years later
Their original clip, from 10 years ago, has been taken down. They're 10 years older and some of them are having just a shade of trouble hitting the really high notes, but the A Capella group from Indiana University are still doing an excellent job with their rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas.
I hope it makes you smile as much as it does me.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Festivus, or just plain Happy Holidays.
I hope it makes you smile as much as it does me.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Festivus, or just plain Happy Holidays.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Another one rides the bus
This morning while waiting for the bus, a (what's the PC term?) Residentially Challenged Man wandered up, scratching himself, fidgeting, and doing things your typical RC person is wont to do, like slapping himself and yelling at things only he can see.
I debated (with myself) the merits of calling my local P.D. but really, what had this fellow done other than be Residentially Challenged? That really shouldn't be a crime (and I doubt it is), and while he did look like he could use the attention of someone who'd take better care of him than he was himself, would my local P.D. be able to satisfy that role in his life? And considering the Bus Station is under the jurisdiction of the Sheriff's Department, not the local P.D., my friendly, neighborhood RCM would probably end up just getting a ride into downtown and wind up a few blocks from where I work.
He wasn't hurting anyone, and didn't really appear dangerous, so I figured what with it being Hanukkah/Christmas/Kwanza/Winter Solstice, why not just let my fellow man be.
A Metro Bus came through and the RCM got all excited, but this particular Bus was Not In Service so it just drove on by without stopping, and the RCM calmed down (somewhat) and resumed his fidgeting and pacing. Then a Foothill Transit Bus pulled up at the station and the RCM jumped up and trotted over to the door, but as this Bus terminated at the Bus Station the RCM was once again disappointed. Then my Bus finally arrived and everyone in line got excited, but the RCM was more so than most.
Ignoring the line of passengers he trotted up to the door and got lucky. Normally the Drivers of the Express Buses into downtown close the front door when they go back to check their passengers and make sure everyone has paid the extra fare to ride into town, but this morning's driver didn't do that; he left the front door open.
The RCM pushed his way in front of the first person in line and when the driver was halfway down the bus he made his move and leaped aboard. Taking a couple of quick steps he plopped down into the first available seat, and his new neighbor immediately switched seats. I watched as the Bus Driver got to the back of the bus, checked his last passenger, then turned and made his way back towards the front. Surely he'd notice RCM and realize he hadn't been there earlier but RCM's sheer audacity paid off and the Driver walked past him without blinking, or even wrinkling up his nose.
For gaming the system and getting a free ride into downtown, we salute you, Mr. Smarter-than-you-look Residentially Challenged Man!
I debated (with myself) the merits of calling my local P.D. but really, what had this fellow done other than be Residentially Challenged? That really shouldn't be a crime (and I doubt it is), and while he did look like he could use the attention of someone who'd take better care of him than he was himself, would my local P.D. be able to satisfy that role in his life? And considering the Bus Station is under the jurisdiction of the Sheriff's Department, not the local P.D., my friendly, neighborhood RCM would probably end up just getting a ride into downtown and wind up a few blocks from where I work.
He wasn't hurting anyone, and didn't really appear dangerous, so I figured what with it being Hanukkah/Christmas/Kwanza/Winter Solstice, why not just let my fellow man be.
A Metro Bus came through and the RCM got all excited, but this particular Bus was Not In Service so it just drove on by without stopping, and the RCM calmed down (somewhat) and resumed his fidgeting and pacing. Then a Foothill Transit Bus pulled up at the station and the RCM jumped up and trotted over to the door, but as this Bus terminated at the Bus Station the RCM was once again disappointed. Then my Bus finally arrived and everyone in line got excited, but the RCM was more so than most.
Ignoring the line of passengers he trotted up to the door and got lucky. Normally the Drivers of the Express Buses into downtown close the front door when they go back to check their passengers and make sure everyone has paid the extra fare to ride into town, but this morning's driver didn't do that; he left the front door open.
The RCM pushed his way in front of the first person in line and when the driver was halfway down the bus he made his move and leaped aboard. Taking a couple of quick steps he plopped down into the first available seat, and his new neighbor immediately switched seats. I watched as the Bus Driver got to the back of the bus, checked his last passenger, then turned and made his way back towards the front. Surely he'd notice RCM and realize he hadn't been there earlier but RCM's sheer audacity paid off and the Driver walked past him without blinking, or even wrinkling up his nose.
For gaming the system and getting a free ride into downtown, we salute you, Mr. Smarter-than-you-look Residentially Challenged Man!
Monday, December 15, 2008
Fable II
Does Microsoft really need to sell their X-Box so badly that they'll force gamers to buy it just to play Fable II?
Considering you can't play Halo on the PC (or we'd spank those console players arses, and they know it), it really shouldn't be a surprise, but it's still fucking annoying. And no, I'm not going to buy an X-Box just to play Fable II...I already have an X-Box, it's called a PC, and it kicks the X-Box's arse.
Fucking Microsoft.
/rant off
Considering you can't play Halo on the PC (or we'd spank those console players arses, and they know it), it really shouldn't be a surprise, but it's still fucking annoying. And no, I'm not going to buy an X-Box just to play Fable II...I already have an X-Box, it's called a PC, and it kicks the X-Box's arse.
Fucking Microsoft.
/rant off
Thursday, December 11, 2008
They play how much, now?
According to GigaOM, in Q2/2006 Blizzard made $30,000,000 from their 5,000,000 Chinese subscribers who, GigaOM quotes (but from where I'm not sure), pay approx. US4¢/hr to play.
$30m per quarter means $10m/month (on average).
$10m / 4¢ (per hour) = 250,000,000 hours.
250m hours / 5m players = 50 hours.
So on average, each Chinese player plays WoW for...just 50 hours per month?
Oddly enough, that really isn't much.
When I used to play, I could easily play for 2-3 hours every weeknight, plus the same (or more) on weekends. I'd be up early on weekends and get in a good couple of hours before Liz would be up, and then sometimes get in another hour or two after that as well. We'd go out somewhere for the afternoon/evening, get home, and I could easily put in another couple of hours before bed.
2-3 hours per weeknight + 12 hours per weekend (both days) = 22-25 hours per week.
4 weeks + 3/4 'extra' days per month = 100+ hours of WoW per month.
So I played twice as much as the average Chinese player, and I was just a casual-hardcore player.
True hardcore players would put in even more time, possibly as much as 150 hours per month. Raiding on multiple weeknights (4 hours per) would easily jack your monthly hours up that high.
I know what you're saying. What about Chinese Gold Farmers. They're on 24/7 (except Tuesdays). Allowing downtime for Tuesdays, let's say 29 days per month, at 24 hours per day, = approx. 700 hours. So one Chinese Gold Farmer = approx. 14 recreational players.
Unless...all of the Chinese players are Gold Farmers. How ironic would that be.
Assuming the average Chinese player is on for 50 hours, and the average Chinese Gold Farmers is on for 700 hours, given that there is 5,000,000 of them and together they play for a combined 250,000,000 hours, I'm sure there's a quadratic formula that would let you work out the ratio of Players to Farmers. I'm good with Maths, but I can't be stuffed working it out.
Anyone want to take a shot at it?
$30m per quarter means $10m/month (on average).
$10m / 4¢ (per hour) = 250,000,000 hours.
250m hours / 5m players = 50 hours.
So on average, each Chinese player plays WoW for...just 50 hours per month?
Oddly enough, that really isn't much.
When I used to play, I could easily play for 2-3 hours every weeknight, plus the same (or more) on weekends. I'd be up early on weekends and get in a good couple of hours before Liz would be up, and then sometimes get in another hour or two after that as well. We'd go out somewhere for the afternoon/evening, get home, and I could easily put in another couple of hours before bed.
2-3 hours per weeknight + 12 hours per weekend (both days) = 22-25 hours per week.
4 weeks + 3/4 'extra' days per month = 100+ hours of WoW per month.
So I played twice as much as the average Chinese player, and I was just a casual-hardcore player.
True hardcore players would put in even more time, possibly as much as 150 hours per month. Raiding on multiple weeknights (4 hours per) would easily jack your monthly hours up that high.
I know what you're saying. What about Chinese Gold Farmers. They're on 24/7 (except Tuesdays). Allowing downtime for Tuesdays, let's say 29 days per month, at 24 hours per day, = approx. 700 hours. So one Chinese Gold Farmer = approx. 14 recreational players.
Unless...all of the Chinese players are Gold Farmers. How ironic would that be.
Assuming the average Chinese player is on for 50 hours, and the average Chinese Gold Farmers is on for 700 hours, given that there is 5,000,000 of them and together they play for a combined 250,000,000 hours, I'm sure there's a quadratic formula that would let you work out the ratio of Players to Farmers. I'm good with Maths, but I can't be stuffed working it out.
Anyone want to take a shot at it?
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Graffiti: Art, or Vandalism?
I thought I'd expand on the conversation/comments started by my last Post.
IMO, whether Graffiti is Art or Vandalism depends on the graffiti itself, and on the "canvas" that was used.
When we first moved into our townhouse our communal letterbox (that we shared with 6 neighbors) came with a piece of lumber across the top. About 3' wide, 12" tall, painted white, it proved an irresistible target, so I wasn't too surprised when I came home from work one day to see something unintelligible scribbled across it. But we'd been painting the house that past weekend so I happened to have a couple of cans of white paint in the garage, and as soon as I'd parked my car I was back out the front, paint & brush in hand.
When painted/written under a larger piece of work I could acknowledge that this:
is an artist's signature. But when it's scrawled in black marker across a letterbox it's nothing but senseless vandalism. I obliterated it with a coat of white paint (not this piece specifically).
A couple of days later it was back. Maybe the same Tagger, maybe not, I don't know; I lost the ability to read Scribble when I graduated from Kindergarten.
I painted over it again.
About a week went by before the Taggers struck again, and probably within hours of them scribbling their nonsense on my letterbox I'd once again erased it.
It was almost six months before they Tagged us again.
They were still around. I'd see their work up and down the street, on other letterboxes, For Sale signs, even spray painted on hedges, but for six months they left us alone. And when they finally did hit us I was back out there, painting over it again.
It didn't piss me off, in fact I got a smug sense of satisfaction by imagining the Tagger coming by later to admire his work, and seeing that his biggest Tag was already gone, just hours after he'd put it up.
That's Tagging. It's graffiti, and it's vandalism. It's exactly the same as your dog pissing on and marking every rock, tree & street sign when you take him for a walk.
"This is mine! And this is mine! Oh, this? This is mine, too! And this! It's mine as well!"
No, this letterbox is mine!
Now if the Taggers had shown a little bit of style and creativity, I might have left their work alone. If they'd done something like this:
or even this:
I'd have thought, "That's pretty cool! I like it!" and it could have stayed.
But when a dog takes a piss up against your letterbox it's only natural to grab your hose and clean it off. Or you piss right back, and you keep on doing that, and eventually the dog comes through saying, "This is mine! And this! And this, too! And...oh! This? No. This is yours."
IMO, whether Graffiti is Art or Vandalism depends on the graffiti itself, and on the "canvas" that was used.
When we first moved into our townhouse our communal letterbox (that we shared with 6 neighbors) came with a piece of lumber across the top. About 3' wide, 12" tall, painted white, it proved an irresistible target, so I wasn't too surprised when I came home from work one day to see something unintelligible scribbled across it. But we'd been painting the house that past weekend so I happened to have a couple of cans of white paint in the garage, and as soon as I'd parked my car I was back out the front, paint & brush in hand.
When painted/written under a larger piece of work I could acknowledge that this:
is an artist's signature. But when it's scrawled in black marker across a letterbox it's nothing but senseless vandalism. I obliterated it with a coat of white paint (not this piece specifically).A couple of days later it was back. Maybe the same Tagger, maybe not, I don't know; I lost the ability to read Scribble when I graduated from Kindergarten.
I painted over it again.
About a week went by before the Taggers struck again, and probably within hours of them scribbling their nonsense on my letterbox I'd once again erased it.
It was almost six months before they Tagged us again.
They were still around. I'd see their work up and down the street, on other letterboxes, For Sale signs, even spray painted on hedges, but for six months they left us alone. And when they finally did hit us I was back out there, painting over it again.
It didn't piss me off, in fact I got a smug sense of satisfaction by imagining the Tagger coming by later to admire his work, and seeing that his biggest Tag was already gone, just hours after he'd put it up.
That's Tagging. It's graffiti, and it's vandalism. It's exactly the same as your dog pissing on and marking every rock, tree & street sign when you take him for a walk.
"This is mine! And this is mine! Oh, this? This is mine, too! And this! It's mine as well!"
No, this letterbox is mine!
Now if the Taggers had shown a little bit of style and creativity, I might have left their work alone. If they'd done something like this:
or even this:
I'd have thought, "That's pretty cool! I like it!" and it could have stayed.
But when a dog takes a piss up against your letterbox it's only natural to grab your hose and clean it off. Or you piss right back, and you keep on doing that, and eventually the dog comes through saying, "This is mine! And this! And this, too! And...oh! This? No. This is yours."
Monday, December 08, 2008
Tagging
I've got about 100 posts left to Tag and I've noticed Blogger's main Edit Comments page allows you to Tag a bunch of posts all at once...except without exploding an entry, the title doesn't always tell me what it's about, especially when you're looking at a 2 y/old post.
Also I can only apply 1 tag at a time to multiple posts and that seems counterproductive. I'd need to explode every post, look at the first Tag, then go through every post to see if that Tag applies to that post, if so, check it, do that for every Post, then apply that first Tag. Uncheck every post, review every post with respect to the second Tag, apply second Tag, uncheck every post, and so on.
I think it's going to be faster to review every post, apply relevant Tags, then republish it.
I don't know if that means I'm about to spam the Readers of anyone who subscribes to my Blog or not, or if it doesn't count for Edits and re-publishes.
If it does, I apologize in advance for the next 100 or so spammed Posts just for me to get my Tags up-to-date.
Also I can only apply 1 tag at a time to multiple posts and that seems counterproductive. I'd need to explode every post, look at the first Tag, then go through every post to see if that Tag applies to that post, if so, check it, do that for every Post, then apply that first Tag. Uncheck every post, review every post with respect to the second Tag, apply second Tag, uncheck every post, and so on.
I think it's going to be faster to review every post, apply relevant Tags, then republish it.
I don't know if that means I'm about to spam the Readers of anyone who subscribes to my Blog or not, or if it doesn't count for Edits and re-publishes.
If it does, I apologize in advance for the next 100 or so spammed Posts just for me to get my Tags up-to-date.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
What a boring life we must lead :P
Almost a week since I last posted. Nothing to discuss, perhaps? Not even a rant?
Okay, so Thanksgiving was in there somewhere. Interesting bit of Thanksgiving trivia, not sure how accurate it is. Apparently 600 million pounds of Turkey is eaten each year on Thanksgiving Day. I don't know about you, but that seems an awful lot of Turkey.
Now when they say "Thanksgiving Day", do they just mean the Thursday? Coz I get Friday off as well as Thursday (perk of being a government lackey). Also, given there's barely 300 million folks in the U.S., total, that means every man, woman & child has to personally account for 2 pounds of Turkey (on average). Okay, so you eat 1 pound of turkey for lunch, then another pound for dinner. Done, right? How many kids do you know that would eat a full pound of meat in one sitting? That's the patties from four Quarter Pounders. Actually, it's probably the patties from five Quarter Pounders, because I doubt a Quarter Pounder patty weighs a full quarter of a pound after you fry it up. When you put it that way, a pound of meat is a fucking (sorry) shit load (sorry again) of meat.
So somehow every man, woman and child eats 10 Quarter Pounder patties worth of Turkey on Thanksgiving Day? I highly doubt that. Now I realize some people will eat that much, and some will eat even more, but I still find it hard to believe that as a nation we can consume 600 million pounds of Turkey in one day. More likely, it's 600 million pounds of Turkey sold for Thanksgiving Day, but there's no actual proof that all that Turkey gets eaten.
Monday night we decided to get a Christmas Tree, just a little one, about 4' tall, from one of the local lots. The young guy that helped us out tied the tree on top of our Highlander all by himself. I figured it was appropriate to tip him, and as he'd done such a good job I figured he deserved more than the single dollar I had, so I bummed another dollar off Liz, folded them together, then palmed them and handed them over during the Thank You handshake. I don't know whether or not they're supposed to pool their tips, but I figured he'd helped us out and tied the tree on our car by himself, he deserved to keep his $2 tip. The subtle way he slid the bills into his hip pocket without even looking at them first told me he was probably supposed to share his tips with the others, so I'm glad I tipped him on the sly. I'm sure the other guys don't share all their tips either so as long as they're all shorting each other, it's okay, right ;)
The kids had a great time decorating the tree when we got home, and we only had to shove Willow away a couple of times before she got the hint that the tree is not a new toy. We took a few pics but Liz hasn't uploaded them yet, and she's hidden the camera away somewhere, so at this point in time, you'll have to use your imagination ;)
*Edit - apparently the pictures were up...I just couldn't find them :P
Okay, so Thanksgiving was in there somewhere. Interesting bit of Thanksgiving trivia, not sure how accurate it is. Apparently 600 million pounds of Turkey is eaten each year on Thanksgiving Day. I don't know about you, but that seems an awful lot of Turkey.
Now when they say "Thanksgiving Day", do they just mean the Thursday? Coz I get Friday off as well as Thursday (perk of being a government lackey). Also, given there's barely 300 million folks in the U.S., total, that means every man, woman & child has to personally account for 2 pounds of Turkey (on average). Okay, so you eat 1 pound of turkey for lunch, then another pound for dinner. Done, right? How many kids do you know that would eat a full pound of meat in one sitting? That's the patties from four Quarter Pounders. Actually, it's probably the patties from five Quarter Pounders, because I doubt a Quarter Pounder patty weighs a full quarter of a pound after you fry it up. When you put it that way, a pound of meat is a fucking (sorry) shit load (sorry again) of meat.
So somehow every man, woman and child eats 10 Quarter Pounder patties worth of Turkey on Thanksgiving Day? I highly doubt that. Now I realize some people will eat that much, and some will eat even more, but I still find it hard to believe that as a nation we can consume 600 million pounds of Turkey in one day. More likely, it's 600 million pounds of Turkey sold for Thanksgiving Day, but there's no actual proof that all that Turkey gets eaten.
Monday night we decided to get a Christmas Tree, just a little one, about 4' tall, from one of the local lots. The young guy that helped us out tied the tree on top of our Highlander all by himself. I figured it was appropriate to tip him, and as he'd done such a good job I figured he deserved more than the single dollar I had, so I bummed another dollar off Liz, folded them together, then palmed them and handed them over during the Thank You handshake. I don't know whether or not they're supposed to pool their tips, but I figured he'd helped us out and tied the tree on our car by himself, he deserved to keep his $2 tip. The subtle way he slid the bills into his hip pocket without even looking at them first told me he was probably supposed to share his tips with the others, so I'm glad I tipped him on the sly. I'm sure the other guys don't share all their tips either so as long as they're all shorting each other, it's okay, right ;)
The kids had a great time decorating the tree when we got home, and we only had to shove Willow away a couple of times before she got the hint that the tree is not a new toy. We took a few pics but Liz hasn't uploaded them yet, and she's hidden the camera away somewhere, so at this point in time, you'll have to use your imagination ;)
*Edit - apparently the pictures were up...I just couldn't find them :P
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
