This week I posted a funny status update which, normally, would get a few "likes" and fade into the constant chatter of the Internet. But because my friends are often as-geeky or far-more-geeky than myself, something else entirely happened: an old school text based adventure began in the comment thread.
http://d.pr/IXAz
Now, most anyone who knows me and has even a drop of nerdy tendency is transfixed, checking back multiple times each day to watch the narrative unfold. Meanwhile, I'm looking at the list of releases planned for 2011 and wondering if any one of them could come close to stealing the "game of the year" crown from this crazy social network experience.
But then I have a different criteria than most. GOTY awards usually go to highly polished experiences where the perceived value of the product was high. And that's fine. I like polished experiences. Yet I wonder if that's really the best methodology when selecting a year's highlights.
Cause I have news for you. When we look back in twenty years at the games which shaped the medium, no one is going to be talking about Red Dead Redemption.*
*Mass Effect 2, maybe. But it's a more polished iteration of what was so remarkable in ME 1.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Blanket Statement
Sharing a bed with someone can be one of life's great little pleasures. It's a constant comfort, and reminder of the intimacy and trust you have with another person.
It is also a logistical nightmare.
You've got different sleeping positions, light-level preferences, pillow arrangements—not to mention temperature needs. Thermal distribution in a two-person bed is a study unto itself, in fact. Some people want the room to be ice cold, while they are baked alive beneath a pile of covers. Other people require that a fan blows air across them all night, which they then counter by using an extra blanket. And I'm not calling out anyone, anywhere for being weird—by default I sleep with both feet outside the covers (because, for some reason, bed makes the bottoms of my feet go thermonuclear with heat) and a secondary pillow tucked under my right shoulder, taking a bit of my weight so I can breath easier.
Combining two of these weird sleep combination locks is an interesting process, requiring a lot of real time and dedication.*
*Pro-tip: Develop an automatic "anchor response," where you hold down your side of the covers whenever you feel the other person move.
It is also a logistical nightmare.
You've got different sleeping positions, light-level preferences, pillow arrangements—not to mention temperature needs. Thermal distribution in a two-person bed is a study unto itself, in fact. Some people want the room to be ice cold, while they are baked alive beneath a pile of covers. Other people require that a fan blows air across them all night, which they then counter by using an extra blanket. And I'm not calling out anyone, anywhere for being weird—by default I sleep with both feet outside the covers (because, for some reason, bed makes the bottoms of my feet go thermonuclear with heat) and a secondary pillow tucked under my right shoulder, taking a bit of my weight so I can breath easier.
Combining two of these weird sleep combination locks is an interesting process, requiring a lot of real time and dedication.*
*Pro-tip: Develop an automatic "anchor response," where you hold down your side of the covers whenever you feel the other person move.
Friday, January 14, 2011
A place in the sun where it's nice and warm
Songs like Gnarls Barkley's "Going On"* are, to me, in a class of their own.
It's a class I like to refer to as "music that I don't have to be ashamed that I'm listening to."
In addition to being catchy, Going On carries a really nice little message: Put more focus on others, less on yourself, and don't put up with people who won't do the same. That may not seem like such a big deal, but remember that a large amount of music:
1. Contains no redeeming values
2. Actively promotes really terrible lifestyles
3. Is so very funky, you just can't stop singing it
And that's the baffling part. Since most music is sold by including awesome beats and incredible hooks, and the lyrics are often nearly indecipherable, why bother to focus on negative ideas at all? Just make all your music about solid moral values, autotune it into an electronic paste, and make it sound like it's about partying. Most people won't know the difference, and I'll feel better about having your song in my subconscious.
*One note: the line in the second verse is: And to do what I want/and to do what I please/Is first *off* my to-do list. For some reason no one bothers to check the official lyrics, and puts it as either "first *of* my to-do" list (which makes no sense) or worse "first *on* my to-do list" (which is counter to the rest of the song.)
It's a class I like to refer to as "music that I don't have to be ashamed that I'm listening to."
In addition to being catchy, Going On carries a really nice little message: Put more focus on others, less on yourself, and don't put up with people who won't do the same. That may not seem like such a big deal, but remember that a large amount of music:
1. Contains no redeeming values
2. Actively promotes really terrible lifestyles
3. Is so very funky, you just can't stop singing it
And that's the baffling part. Since most music is sold by including awesome beats and incredible hooks, and the lyrics are often nearly indecipherable, why bother to focus on negative ideas at all? Just make all your music about solid moral values, autotune it into an electronic paste, and make it sound like it's about partying. Most people won't know the difference, and I'll feel better about having your song in my subconscious.
*One note: the line in the second verse is: And to do what I want/and to do what I please/Is first *off* my to-do list. For some reason no one bothers to check the official lyrics, and puts it as either "first *of* my to-do" list (which makes no sense) or worse "first *on* my to-do list" (which is counter to the rest of the song.)
Friday, January 7, 2011
no.w on the webs!
i carry your phone everywhere
google
with me everywhere
and everywhere it takes me
i heart gps
but alth ough i find it
a marvel
theres at least one po.int
i need to take up with you
the software k e y b o a r d
doesnt work with blogg er
and my hardware one
doesnt recognize capitals
or symbols
serious.ly
you have like tw e n ty ba
jillion dollars
get on that
thanks
with me everywhere
and everywhere it takes me
i heart gps
but alth ough i find it
a marvel
theres at least one po.int
i need to take up with you
the software k e y b o a r d
doesnt work with blogg er
and my hardware one
doesnt recognize capitals
or symbols
serious.ly
you have like tw e n ty ba
jillion dollars
get on that
thanks
Friday, December 31, 2010
Free Soap!
There's just something nice about a hotel room.
Technically it's just a poorly equipped, overpriced apartment, but somehow having that little room set aside for you is an incredible treat. You relish the experience, tossing down your bags with great flourish and stretching out on a bed just big enough to be considered a double. You inventory the room: chairs, table, tv, coffee pot, tiny fridge (exquisite!).
And then you turn on the TV. My mother never understood this part when I went on vacation as a kid, and asked why we traveled so far if we were just going to watch television we could see at home. She never understood that you have to "settle into" a vacation. You need that moment to claim your new space, kick the tires and open her up a little. Only once you're fully at home can you enjoy a single thing outside that window, with its super-heavy blackout curtains.
Oh look, the number for the nearest pizza chain. Gonna give them a call later, aren't you? Yes, pizza delivered directly to your new little domain. What royalty you are.
Technically it's just a poorly equipped, overpriced apartment, but somehow having that little room set aside for you is an incredible treat. You relish the experience, tossing down your bags with great flourish and stretching out on a bed just big enough to be considered a double. You inventory the room: chairs, table, tv, coffee pot, tiny fridge (exquisite!).
And then you turn on the TV. My mother never understood this part when I went on vacation as a kid, and asked why we traveled so far if we were just going to watch television we could see at home. She never understood that you have to "settle into" a vacation. You need that moment to claim your new space, kick the tires and open her up a little. Only once you're fully at home can you enjoy a single thing outside that window, with its super-heavy blackout curtains.
Oh look, the number for the nearest pizza chain. Gonna give them a call later, aren't you? Yes, pizza delivered directly to your new little domain. What royalty you are.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Dear Santa Claus,
First of all, let me commend you on your free toy program. It's a fine, charitable idea that has benefited millions. However, the rules governing your allotment system have always seemed a bit vague to me, so there are a few points I'd like some clarification on.
1. What, exactly, do you mean by "naughty" and "nice"? Is this morality scale working on absolutes, or more of a relativist system where culture and environment are taken into account?
2. How far does "nice" credit accrue, and does your Christmas morning pay out accordingly? I guess what I'm really asking is, "If I do enough charity work, will you turn me into Spiderman?" Just let me know, I can make the time.
3. Speaking of credits, is rollover something we need to worry about? Does the new year start fresh, or does a certain amount of naughty/nice still apply? And does the new year start on Jan 1, or once the current year presents are delivered?
4. Do you get Christmas presents? What about your wife, and the elves? And who would deliver them to you? Taking presents to all those kids seems pretty "nice," so I imagine you must get some crazy stuff.
So when you get a chance, please clarify these points for me.* I'll be happy to write up the details in a GoogleDoc, so you can include it as a faq whenever you get a webpage going.
*Please note that answers to these questions do not constitute a gift.
1. What, exactly, do you mean by "naughty" and "nice"? Is this morality scale working on absolutes, or more of a relativist system where culture and environment are taken into account?
2. How far does "nice" credit accrue, and does your Christmas morning pay out accordingly? I guess what I'm really asking is, "If I do enough charity work, will you turn me into Spiderman?" Just let me know, I can make the time.
3. Speaking of credits, is rollover something we need to worry about? Does the new year start fresh, or does a certain amount of naughty/nice still apply? And does the new year start on Jan 1, or once the current year presents are delivered?
4. Do you get Christmas presents? What about your wife, and the elves? And who would deliver them to you? Taking presents to all those kids seems pretty "nice," so I imagine you must get some crazy stuff.
So when you get a chance, please clarify these points for me.* I'll be happy to write up the details in a GoogleDoc, so you can include it as a faq whenever you get a webpage going.
*Please note that answers to these questions do not constitute a gift.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Awkward Garden
I have nothing against Olive Garden: it's tasty, it's reasonable, and the level of service is pretty consistent. For chain restaurants, you can't do much better. If you said "How about hitting up the OG for dinner?" I'd probably say "yes," if only because I love Andes mints.*
But I'd feel weird about it.
I always feel a little uncomfortable in that place, because it occupies the center of a social nexus. OG is a chain, and a corporate entity, but steps its presentation up a notch from most in that field. I mean we all know the place isn't a "real" Italian restaurant, but any given 'Garden is definitely a classier experience than your average Applebee's or Chili's. And that's exactly why it's so weird.
If I walk in wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I feel like I should be more dressed up. If I walk in dressed up, I feel awkward sitting in the waiting area next to a guy in overalls. Which one of us is inappropriately dressed, Olive Garden? If this was a burger joint it'd be no big deal—the relaxed motif would give us level protocol ground. But your bottles of wine and stone exterior have forced me to shuffle my feet, wishing I'd shaved before I left the house.
*Which is why I love going there with people who don't like them.
But I'd feel weird about it.
I always feel a little uncomfortable in that place, because it occupies the center of a social nexus. OG is a chain, and a corporate entity, but steps its presentation up a notch from most in that field. I mean we all know the place isn't a "real" Italian restaurant, but any given 'Garden is definitely a classier experience than your average Applebee's or Chili's. And that's exactly why it's so weird.
If I walk in wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I feel like I should be more dressed up. If I walk in dressed up, I feel awkward sitting in the waiting area next to a guy in overalls. Which one of us is inappropriately dressed, Olive Garden? If this was a burger joint it'd be no big deal—the relaxed motif would give us level protocol ground. But your bottles of wine and stone exterior have forced me to shuffle my feet, wishing I'd shaved before I left the house.
*Which is why I love going there with people who don't like them.
Friday, December 10, 2010
And the Fury
Live music is like the movie "Chicken Run." I never feel motivated to watch it, but once I do I'm surprised how much I enjoy the experience.
Some would say that live performance is definitive, that recording and replaying is a hollow, lifeless imitation. I'll save that intellectual position for the guys at the poetry jams who walk up to the mic and say "this is not my voice, this is an electronic interpretation of my voice." Those guys would know better about the supposed purity of live performance, and are more comfortable being immediately disliked.
But there is something special about seeing someone play their own music, and I don't know that it has much to do with the sound itself.
-As with sports, martial arts demonstrations, and dances, being reminded what human beings are capable of is pretty incredible. When you listen to a recording, that simply doesn't register the same way: you are dealing with the sound alone, not the sound and the person making it.
-It's hard to be a jerk in person. When you only encounter the art and not the artist, you can be more critical. Listening live robs you of that emotional distance.
-Watching someone sing their music, like hearing a person read their writing, lets you in on the subtle inflections and body language they use. A lot of people say that Citizen Cope, for instance, doesn't write enough lyrics, instead endlessly repeating his choruses. It wasn't until I saw him live that I realized he uses lyrics like a mantra, a point of meditation that he repeats in a trance state.
But not all art forms have the option for live versions. There are book readings, but they aren't common. Movies and TV let us see the actors involved, but no one else, and since we're not in the same room as any of them it isn't the same. Even in a restaurant, the chef generally stays in the kitchen. Music, then, is fairly unique in that we have so many opportunities to encounter the people responsible for it.*
*Unless you count Twitter.
Some would say that live performance is definitive, that recording and replaying is a hollow, lifeless imitation. I'll save that intellectual position for the guys at the poetry jams who walk up to the mic and say "this is not my voice, this is an electronic interpretation of my voice." Those guys would know better about the supposed purity of live performance, and are more comfortable being immediately disliked.
But there is something special about seeing someone play their own music, and I don't know that it has much to do with the sound itself.
-As with sports, martial arts demonstrations, and dances, being reminded what human beings are capable of is pretty incredible. When you listen to a recording, that simply doesn't register the same way: you are dealing with the sound alone, not the sound and the person making it.
-It's hard to be a jerk in person. When you only encounter the art and not the artist, you can be more critical. Listening live robs you of that emotional distance.
-Watching someone sing their music, like hearing a person read their writing, lets you in on the subtle inflections and body language they use. A lot of people say that Citizen Cope, for instance, doesn't write enough lyrics, instead endlessly repeating his choruses. It wasn't until I saw him live that I realized he uses lyrics like a mantra, a point of meditation that he repeats in a trance state.
But not all art forms have the option for live versions. There are book readings, but they aren't common. Movies and TV let us see the actors involved, but no one else, and since we're not in the same room as any of them it isn't the same. Even in a restaurant, the chef generally stays in the kitchen. Music, then, is fairly unique in that we have so many opportunities to encounter the people responsible for it.*
*Unless you count Twitter.
Friday, December 3, 2010
And then nap.
As we've discussed before, cats are like tiny superheroes. For their particular environment, they are the most incredible physical creature to be found.
But I guess, when your life includes the constant threat of being snuggled by a larger being, who fails to recognize what a terrifying predator you are, karma has to send some serious stuff your way.
And that's why the best part of having a cat is watching it flip the hell out for no particular reason. If they weren't so fast, sleek, and agile, cats hitting their regular crazy time would just look kind of desperate and scary. But the incredible gifts nature has given them turn those tiny kitty brain fluxes into pure hilarity.
So much happens so fast when your cat goes nuts, it's primal hunter brain suddenly turning on and venting all the stored energy of sleeping 19 hours a day. Generally it goes something like this:
"What's that noise? I haven't been in the other room in a while. This room is weird, I should go back to that other room. Is there something under the floor? I have a TAIL! There's that noise again! What if the carpet were lava? JUMP!"*
*Which constitutes about a quarter of a second of a cat's "buggin' out" time.
But I guess, when your life includes the constant threat of being snuggled by a larger being, who fails to recognize what a terrifying predator you are, karma has to send some serious stuff your way.
And that's why the best part of having a cat is watching it flip the hell out for no particular reason. If they weren't so fast, sleek, and agile, cats hitting their regular crazy time would just look kind of desperate and scary. But the incredible gifts nature has given them turn those tiny kitty brain fluxes into pure hilarity.
So much happens so fast when your cat goes nuts, it's primal hunter brain suddenly turning on and venting all the stored energy of sleeping 19 hours a day. Generally it goes something like this:
"What's that noise? I haven't been in the other room in a while. This room is weird, I should go back to that other room. Is there something under the floor? I have a TAIL! There's that noise again! What if the carpet were lava? JUMP!"*
*Which constitutes about a quarter of a second of a cat's "buggin' out" time.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Traveling through Time Trax
The best part of Netflix and Hulu is not that they provide vast riches of content, but how they serve as media time-capsules. Digging through their collective libraries is a bizarre and wonderful way to pour over cultural touchstones of your youth: the good, the bad, the incredibly bizarre . . . all there together.
They have POLE POSITION! Yeah, you forgot about that, didn't you? They took a video game where you drove a car on a race track and somehow extrapolated a story about kids solving crimes with their artificially intelligent cars.
The 80's really had a thing for human/machine stories like that. I know you're going "Knight Rider" right now, but I'm not going to let you. I'm gonna make you think about Airwolf, and realize that it actually wasn't awesome. No. It was garbage, and you loved it as much as I did.
And speaking of disappointing: Inspector Gadget. Remember what a great show that was? Yeah, only it wasn't. That animation must have cost them tens of dollars to produce.
I think we need to cleanse the palate here, so your head doesn't swim too much from all these let-downs. While you can't find much of the series, there is an Animaniacs movie on Netflix, and it holds up quite well. Fun, light-hearted comedy that's surprisingly sophisticated for a kids show. Just amazing. I'm adding the DVD's to my wishlist right now.
Jim Henson's the Storyteller? Oh yeah, we've got all that. The weird thing is that I've remembered the pilot episode, in detail, ever since I saw the original broadcast. It's about a guy who gives away his last biscuit and gets a magic sack that he uses to get a bunch of demons out of a castle and then later trap death . . . who's this little white bald thing, for some reason? I don't know what to tell you, but please watch it, I need it to be bouncing around someone else's head too, so I don't feel (as) crazy.*
*I'm honestly just glad I have evidence that this episode is real, and aired on television. I stopped talking about it because most people thought I'd dreamed it.
They have POLE POSITION! Yeah, you forgot about that, didn't you? They took a video game where you drove a car on a race track and somehow extrapolated a story about kids solving crimes with their artificially intelligent cars.
The 80's really had a thing for human/machine stories like that. I know you're going "Knight Rider" right now, but I'm not going to let you. I'm gonna make you think about Airwolf, and realize that it actually wasn't awesome. No. It was garbage, and you loved it as much as I did.
And speaking of disappointing: Inspector Gadget. Remember what a great show that was? Yeah, only it wasn't. That animation must have cost them tens of dollars to produce.
I think we need to cleanse the palate here, so your head doesn't swim too much from all these let-downs. While you can't find much of the series, there is an Animaniacs movie on Netflix, and it holds up quite well. Fun, light-hearted comedy that's surprisingly sophisticated for a kids show. Just amazing. I'm adding the DVD's to my wishlist right now.
Jim Henson's the Storyteller? Oh yeah, we've got all that. The weird thing is that I've remembered the pilot episode, in detail, ever since I saw the original broadcast. It's about a guy who gives away his last biscuit and gets a magic sack that he uses to get a bunch of demons out of a castle and then later trap death . . . who's this little white bald thing, for some reason? I don't know what to tell you, but please watch it, I need it to be bouncing around someone else's head too, so I don't feel (as) crazy.*
*I'm honestly just glad I have evidence that this episode is real, and aired on television. I stopped talking about it because most people thought I'd dreamed it.
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