I always find these stories vaguely amusing, if also a little infuriating.
Also interesting, from The Guardian. Honestly, some of his lingo eludes me, but I get the cut of his gib. The bit about New York at the bottom, and the Olympic games, I found the most interesting.
P.S. Has anyone had any personal experience with Second Life?
I find the idea intriguing.
Most of the gamers of my generation are aware of something that newer and older generations both might be missing out on. Video games help develop intelligence. They aren’t all about mindless violence or senseless escapism. They are, in fact, about solving puzzles, fixing problems, and completing objectives. Sound like a job? It is, and now Discover Magazine has released an article, involving numerous studies, that states that not only are video games good exercise for your mind (the brain’s equivalent to a healthy jog), but help sharpen skills that are of actual use in the real world. Gasp! But then, any gamer in their mid-twenties could have told you that. People just tend to ignore us … and mock us … and occasionally throw things at us.
The article is interesting. You can read it here. You can read the first two paragraphs for free (lucky you), and then use my login information to continue.
email: bava-track01 (at) mailblocks (dot) com
password: 9f6f50c0
They raise a good point that video games as development tools for children are much more effective if used within a parenting framework that encourages the learning aspects. When used as passive babysitters, they aren’t quite as edifying. Still, I long for the era when parents encourage their children to play video games for an hour a day, just as they would encourage them to eat their vegetables, or go outside and get some exercise.
I used to play Everquest a lot. Some of you may remember. Today while chatting with Emily she mentioned Neru and my first thought was “Who is Neru?”. It wasn’t a long thought, a split second at most, but still a bit shocking.
Neru was my dark elf enchantress, who liked to run around with Euclidus, Emily’s wood elf ranger, and start shit with bastard orcs, especially if they lived deep down in some cold ice caves in the middle of a frozen waste. Those were, without a doubt, good times. But I’m glad they’re over, and that we’ve both become more productive with our lives. I’m having much more fun now just being alive, and not sitting on my ass quite as much.
However, in memory of Neru, I would like to take a moment to pay homage to all things dork.
And the present is good. Really good. Stupendously good.
I won’t bore you with details.
Instead, I suggest you geek out on this addictive game;
generate your own webcomic;
listen to some Shivaree;
and finally, save the world.
If you still have time after all that,
come back here and I promise I’ll write something else.
Honest.
We spent all day on Sunday playing a board game. And by “all day”, I mean this game takes a good 12 hours from start to finish. We’ve had multi-day games happen before, but it’s never as exciting the next day, so now we try to start early and finish fast. I always tend to be the one trying to “move things along”, for some reason. I don’t have any/much German in me, so I can’t explain this need to facilitate.
Daniel came down to visit for a couple days, and Civ is our tradition, dating all the way back to early ’99. He was in China for a year, and now lives in Austin, so it’s been awhile. It was a great time, with some good guys and lots of beer (once again, Adam brought an excellent home-brew). Daniel stayed until this morning, and he got the full flavor of an Ahniwa slice-of-life: swing dancing, and music. I wish I didn’t work so close to the line (the line of financial ruin, that is) and could have taken some time off to visit with him more. Hopefully he didn’t feel cheated, but I did warn him that my life is frantically busy. Still, it was good to see him, and he’s coming back down for another weekend soon, so perhaps we’ll be able to catch up more then.
—
Sprint has stolen my soul and replaced it with cancer.
That’s right, I’m now cellular.
I like the service, but the prices screw you over unless you get a two-year contract, which seems a bit long for me. And evidently, if you cancel your contract early, Sprint is entitled to your first-born child and a yearly Christmas card. They can have the damn kid (had I one), but I suck at sending Christmas cards.
The first phone I got sucked.
But I’m getting a new one.
It’s like Eddie Izzard says, when you get a new technology, you expect it to be able to do everything for you. “I got this new thing, now I’ll never have to work or do anything myself ever again!” I don’t know why, but that’s what I expected from my cell phone (I even tried to cure a leper with it). Instead, the coolest thing I’ve gotten it to do so far is play the Cure whenever one of my friends calls me (which is, in fact, pretty cool). The funny thing is, I blame my phone’s failures at performing miracles on the particular phone I had, and not the technology in general. So when I get my new phone, I’ll go through this all over again, most likely (unless it actually can cure leprosy, I’ll let you know). Even if it fails at miracles, the new phone is silver and blue instead of just silver, and it’s got the whole walkie-talkie thing going for it, and a speakerphone, so I can just set the phone down and yell at the top of my voice (because that seems like it will annoy everyone around me even more, which is my goal as a new cell-phone user seeking revenge). I’ve joined the 21st century, and lo, there was much rejoicing. Thank you, Saint Sprint.
—
Gamespy has a first. A decent article. But you’d know that already if you read Penny Arcade. Which you should. The game itself looks neat. The concept is ground-breaking.
Also, with EA so big in the news lately, people should take a moment and read the EA Spouse transmission. I don’t know if such a thing is possible any longer in our EA-infested world, but I’m strongly considering boycotting them. This is old news, evidently, but it’s the first time I’d ever seen it. So I put here on the off-chance it’s the first time you’d ever seen it too.
Other news: McGill Application – Finished, Sent.
Yelm Job: I declined the interview. It was too far away.
Likeliness that I’ll still be in Oly this fall: 95%.
If you live in Washington, I hope you’re living through our pollen plague. Flowers are sure rude bastards. You don’t see me throwing my male gametes all over the place, do you? Do you!? No, and you don’t want to either. In honor of these plants being assholes, I’ve butchered the “Roses are red…” poem in a new and fun way.
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
keep your seeds to yourself,
I don’t gamete on you!
Yes, “gamete” is now a verb. Use freely.
–OHMYGODBECKYLOOKATHERPISTILITISSOBIG–
Things punk-ass kids say in the library that I overhear:
—
“How long have you been playing?”
“Oh, like four years.”
“Do you have a lot of good cards?”
“Yeah, I even have The Dark.”
“What’s that?”
It’s like, the first cards that came out.”
—
“I even beat the original Zelda. You know, on the N64.”
—
And I died a little bit, each time. Thus reconfirming my status as a renegade dork hero. And then one of the little prats tried to regenerate a goblin he had just sacrificed, and I was forced to step in. I’m not sure what they thought, some guy who was moments before quietly reading the shelves next to them, all of a sudden informing them that they were not playing the game correctly. I also explained that you could block with a creature, and then sacrifice it before damage was dealt, and the attacking creature would still be blocked, but would itself take no damage. They looked momentarily as though I’d grown horns.
It was great.
A full month later, and we’re just getting started on cleaning this all up. Another article I read compared the medical problems we are experiencing in these countries to ones we had during the US Civil War. Hopefully this can be improved, and fast, though I reserve my cynicism. As the article states, a disaster such as this, sudden and unpredicatable, makes us realize that it could have happened to any of us, without warning; reminding us that the Earth is not compassionate, and that we need to make the most of things now, not later.
How pathetic can you get? I would like to feel some compassion for the guy, but he “tried” to slash his wrists, “tried” to stab himself, and then “tried” to get hit by a train, killing ten other people and injuring hundreds. Perhaps, right along with suicide prevention hotlines, we could use a couple suicide success lines, providing helpful information about how to end your life successfully without wrecking trains in the process. Like S*P says (I tried to find the particular strip, but couldn’t), “Remember kids, it’s up the river, not across the street.”
Isn’t this what therapy is for? Or perhaps a sound talking to from the principal? Since when do kids get felony charges for drawing violent pictures? I bet you every kid between the ages of 8-12 has drawn something somewhat violent at some point or another. They’ve a morbid fascination with death, because in general it’s not a particularly real occurence. So yeah, explain to little Timmy and Billy why it’s wrong to draw pictures of stabbing and hanging your classmates, but don’t throw them in a federal, pound-me-in-the-ass prison.
Sorry, I couldn’t resist my own clever headline. Still, eleven nominations, hot damn. I guess I should go see that, and soon. I think Moore’s an idiot for taking Fahrenheit 9/11 out of the Best Documentary category to run for Best Picture. For someone who does documentarys on American society, he sure seems kind of clueless sometimes about our … tastes. I loved the movie, personally, but I was never less than absolutely sure that it would never win Best Picture. That it didn’t even get nominated is no surprise either. Besides, what’s wrong with the Best Documentary category? Perhaps Moore needs to come to terms with the fact that his movies are, in fact, documentaries (though some might argue), and that there’s no shame in that. Like he said when Bowling for Columbine won, documentarians are people that focus on the truth in fictitious times. This is important, and in my opinion, commendable, regardless of whether or not you agree with this “truth”.
When it comes to spiritual beliefs, I try not to be judgemental. It’s a fairly non-factual field, where what you feel is more important than what you can prove. I don’t know if I think that resurrection is likely, but I certainly think it’s possible, and as an idea, I kind of like it. Even so, I don’t think I would ever, ever equate the reasoning behind a belief in resurrection as “Well, it’s like a video game. You just hit the reset switch.” I just mean, c’mon! You’re Japan! You’ve got a gazillion years and eras of history, myth and folklore, and the best your youth can come up with as an analogy for resurrection is resetting their gamecube!? Only in Japan, I tell you.
On the big speakers: The Postal Service
My current obsession: Vaenu Pa’riya
Nearly a week since my last entry. Not because of EQ2, as one might guess, but because I’ve needed the time to mull things over. I wanted to pay what happened with Alexis more than just passing lip service, but honestly I don’t know what to say. I’ve got very mixed feelings about what happened. She came over last night and we talked about things; mostly she tried to convince me that I was making a horrible mistake. I admitted that she could very well be right, but for now I still feel like it was the right decision, and I’m not going to change my mind. Not that it wasn’t hard. My god; my body was shaking, and she leaned against me and took my hand and stared into my eyes and even while melting I told her that I couldn’t do what she wanted me to do. It remains the right decision, but not an easy one.
As I dropped her off in the glen, she kissed me. Three times. I didn’t stop her, but I didn’t let it go any further. She told me I was stupid (for letting her go; a theme of the night) and then left. I drove away, confused and feeling pretty stupid. My brain still feels a bit addled, but I’ll keep my resolve. If I don’t, I suspect it will just lead to more people getting more hurt later on. In the Autumn I need to make a journey by myself; this supersedes all else.
–
To occupy my thoughts:
I’ll do my best to update more regularly.
I always feel better for doing so.
I wanted to walk through the empty streets
And feel something constant under my feet,
But all the news reports recommended that
I stay indoors
Because the air outside will make our cells
Divide at an alarming rate until our shells
Simply cannot hold all our insides in,
And that’s when we’ll explode
(and it won’t be a pretty sight)
– The Postal Service, We Will Become Silhouettes
I vacillated. I hedged. I spent hours in Best Buy just to leave empty-handed. I questioned what I’d really like to do in my free-time and came up with some rather inconclusive premonitions. And then I broke. I was a man on a mission. I wouldn’t be stopped. I bought Everquest 2. Weep for me.
I won’t go into it too much, except to say that it’s fun. It’s lush, enjoyable, and captivating. That (almost) every NPC has a voice makes the experience that much more involving. It’s a much different feel than Everquest, and so far, I like it entirely too much. Even so, I won’t allow my life to get sucked into another MMPORG abyss. I’d like to feel I’m beyond that now; this is simply an enjoyable distraction. Hah. I’ll put up some screenshots once I get over my initial awe and can function again.
In the mornings, I invariably make coffee,
strong, strong coffee; and listen to Diana
Krall sing some great jazz in DTS.
The music really fills the house, and it’s
a great way to start a day. I got a Norah
Jones SACD, but I can’t get any volume out
of it. Saddest thing ever.
So we picked up Burnout 3 yesterday, thanks
to the rave reviews of Tycho at Penny Arcade,
and I’d just like to take this opportunity to curse
him for being right. This game has everything a good
racing game should have, including the wanton destruction
of, well, everything, including your opponents,
and vast hordes of rush hour traffic.
Theo, at least, had the good sense to go out
on a date, have some dinner, see Arts Walk.
All things I had certainly planned on doing,
once, long before Burnout took me in its clutches
and forced me to play it all freakin’ day.
I feel so used; good thing I have to work today.
Work: the anti-crack.
No apologies for my absence. I have no excuses. Health feels fragile today, like a toy top spinning — we all fall down.
I watched Dummy today. Adrian Brody before “The Pianist”, and well worth the watch. One of the better movies I’ve seen – lately, ever – good movie, anyway. Emily leaves for Vegas on Sunday for a few days. The sister’s (2nd) wedding. I wonder what a wedding is like, what a 2nd wedding is like. How much can the bride be blushing when it’s all been done before? But no, maybe that’s mean and insensitive, and illogical. That’s like saying how much fun can a relationship be if it’s your second one, no matter that it’s to someone different.
A return to Everquest, but a casual return. In the last week, I’ve played twice. I feel strangely ambivelent to EQ itself. I enjoy spending that time with Emily, sharing an activity — as I enjoy any activity we spend together / share. Still, EQ IS fun. So is Prince of Persia, so is Hoyle Majestic Chess, and so is reading and writing.
I am Buridan’s ass. Status quo, miasma, feet locked in an iron cast — not struggling. I’m Rimbaud’s companion “down below”. I have not taken the road less traveled. Somehow, I think I am a villain. I have no evil laugh, nor curled mustache, nor black sedan with tinted windows. I haven’t got evil intentions. If I had, I would not be a villain. No, my villany comes from a fullness of goodness, unacted upon. My coffers full of charity, I stand by and watched the world starve, consuming depravity like a chimera’s feast. Worse, I criticize, mock, or stand off to the side with an air of careful detachment. That last may be the worst.
Buridan’s ass starves to death. Perfectly good food within sight, within reach, no bars between, nor chasm. No device keeps the ass from its feast except rational thought, the bane of all good dreamers.
No, I am not Buridan’s ass.
But sometimes I catch a glimpse of the beast’s death.
Sometimes I understand it.