Holy crap – I may win my pool.
I have absolutely nothing invested in March Madness – never have, never will. I fill out a bracket as often as I think about it which is not often despite the deafening hype each year. Basketball is a sport, one among many, that I never clicked with and as a result never cared for. Whether the players are paid or not is beside the point for me. So, whenever I filled out my brackets this year for the office pool I picked the teams that seemed most natural to win.
I know that upsets are the nature of the beast and the catch to a successful bracket is in knowing what the likeliest ones are. But then you have people like me who never, ever tune into a game during the season. For me, it was $10 wasted on 30 seconds of amusement which is exactly the length of time I devoted to it.
Fast forward to this week and I’m presently behind four people in our office pool. However! All four have already peaked as their national champions have all been knocked out. Should Kentucky win this weekend and advance to the final game, that puts Yours Truly on top. Only two of us picked Kentucky to hit the final game, and between me and the other guy, I have more successful picks.
Go figure. We'll find out tomorrow so go Kentucky!
Friday, April 1, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Now Playing: Devil
“Who are you?” “Today?”
To the credit of all involved with “Devil,” they managed to wring every ounce of tension out of five people trapped in an elevator. That’s it. That’s the story. Oh, wait. Slight twist to this setup: One of the five happens to be the Devil. So, what we’re looking at is how the Devil is out to collect a group of very bad people and the only thing we can do is watch.
The other observers are the police who are investigating a suicide that occurred at the building. As things get stranger and the body count rises, the police and building security realize that something is definitely wrong with one of the passengers. All of this happens in under 90 minutes too, credits and all. The result of such a limited time span and an equally limited budget is a determined focus on core characters to the exclusion of all the normal trappings inherent to this genre.
Usually films like this go off in several directions and refuse to stay in the box, primarily as a way to alleviate the tension. When that happens in Devil, it’s so that we get to know the people in the elevator. Instead of having everyone in the box discuss who they are, what their feelings are for the world at large, etc., we find out about them as the police do. And once we find out their respective MOs, we come to understand why the Devil was drawn to this particular group in the first place.
There isn’t much in the way of mystery either. Once things get going, one of the building security guards begins to spell out the beats of the rest of the film. This isn’t much of a surprise considering that, at times, the film feels like an extended episode of The Twilight Zone. This also isn’t surprising considering writer/producer M. Night Shymalan has been ripping off the show his entire career.
So what is surprising? The effectiveness of good, old fashioned practical effects. The number of special effects shots in the film can be counted on one hands (maybe both). Everything else happens in camera via nifty editing tricks and clever use of sound effects. That’s it. That’s the ballgame. Frankly, I love it when film makers rely more on imagination rather than hurling CGI at the screen and expecting you to be afraid of it.
But the setup is a bit disingenuous. In essence, we’re stuck in a box for 70 minutes or so (excluding the setup and epilogue) with four bad guys and Satan so who is there to root for? Why, I’m so glad you asked. We get to root for the wooden cop trying to rescue the passengers. How wooden might he be? I dubbed him “redwood” right about the time things started going crazy.
I love how simple things like the lights starting to flicker indicate that someone’s about to bite it, and that when things do go dark that the sound effects take center stage. You never see the devil’s handiwork in action, only the results as they bleed out on the floor. The tension is ridiculously high, you’re not sure of the motives of everyone until the end, and even though the major twist is easy to peg about five minutes in, it still delivers a corker of an ending.
On the whole, its brevity definitely works in its favor and as a result Devil is short, but very sweet.
To the credit of all involved with “Devil,” they managed to wring every ounce of tension out of five people trapped in an elevator. That’s it. That’s the story. Oh, wait. Slight twist to this setup: One of the five happens to be the Devil. So, what we’re looking at is how the Devil is out to collect a group of very bad people and the only thing we can do is watch.
The other observers are the police who are investigating a suicide that occurred at the building. As things get stranger and the body count rises, the police and building security realize that something is definitely wrong with one of the passengers. All of this happens in under 90 minutes too, credits and all. The result of such a limited time span and an equally limited budget is a determined focus on core characters to the exclusion of all the normal trappings inherent to this genre.
Usually films like this go off in several directions and refuse to stay in the box, primarily as a way to alleviate the tension. When that happens in Devil, it’s so that we get to know the people in the elevator. Instead of having everyone in the box discuss who they are, what their feelings are for the world at large, etc., we find out about them as the police do. And once we find out their respective MOs, we come to understand why the Devil was drawn to this particular group in the first place.
There isn’t much in the way of mystery either. Once things get going, one of the building security guards begins to spell out the beats of the rest of the film. This isn’t much of a surprise considering that, at times, the film feels like an extended episode of The Twilight Zone. This also isn’t surprising considering writer/producer M. Night Shymalan has been ripping off the show his entire career.
So what is surprising? The effectiveness of good, old fashioned practical effects. The number of special effects shots in the film can be counted on one hands (maybe both). Everything else happens in camera via nifty editing tricks and clever use of sound effects. That’s it. That’s the ballgame. Frankly, I love it when film makers rely more on imagination rather than hurling CGI at the screen and expecting you to be afraid of it.
But the setup is a bit disingenuous. In essence, we’re stuck in a box for 70 minutes or so (excluding the setup and epilogue) with four bad guys and Satan so who is there to root for? Why, I’m so glad you asked. We get to root for the wooden cop trying to rescue the passengers. How wooden might he be? I dubbed him “redwood” right about the time things started going crazy.
I love how simple things like the lights starting to flicker indicate that someone’s about to bite it, and that when things do go dark that the sound effects take center stage. You never see the devil’s handiwork in action, only the results as they bleed out on the floor. The tension is ridiculously high, you’re not sure of the motives of everyone until the end, and even though the major twist is easy to peg about five minutes in, it still delivers a corker of an ending.
On the whole, its brevity definitely works in its favor and as a result Devil is short, but very sweet.
Max’s Unbearable Sweetness & Light
Seriously. This kid is a walking saint. He’s so good natured and has such the sweetest disposition that if he ever turns evil, I’m going to spare no expense towards hunting Senator Palpatine those responsible down.
Case in point: I went to pick him up at daycare this week and arrived earlier than usual. I hung back to observe how he interacted with the other kids. It’s something I’m curious about but rarely get to see. Normally when either My Fair Lady or I show up, the rest of the parents are in the midst of scooping up their children, so Max is ready to go. But on this day, he and the others were enraptured by what their teacher held. She showed off a small tower comprised of four ladders and a plastic frog was stuck in the middle. The teacher would talk softly to one of the kids and touch the ladders to the top of their head before doing it to the next child.
Max and a little girl stood at the back of the circle of kids, so when it was his turn he gingerly stepped forward. He wasn’t entirely sure but he trusted his teacher not to lead him astray. She touched the item to his head and he pointed at the frog, at which point I’m sure he said, “froggie!” Then it was the little girl’s turn but she was having none of it.
At. All.
She stepped back and vigorously shook her head side to side. No way! The teacher calmly asked Max if he could convince her that it was alright.
Max looked at the little girl, then reached over and took her hand in his. He had a look on his face that said, “it’s okay, I did it and it’s alright.” He didn’t pull her into the circle either. He gently tugged on her, urging her forward with a sense of caring for the well being of another that I hadn’t seen from him. The girl still wouldn’t do it, so Max let go of her and walked over to the teacher to try and get the froggie out. Yes, he was successful.
That was the point where I stepped to the door and got his attention. He immediately smiled, pointed at me to let the teachers know that he was outta there, then ran to the door. When we got out in the hall, I gave Max a big hug and whispered in his ear, “I’m so proud of you big man. Thank you for being so sweet.” He replied, “I poopie!” and grabbed his crotch.
Case in point: I went to pick him up at daycare this week and arrived earlier than usual. I hung back to observe how he interacted with the other kids. It’s something I’m curious about but rarely get to see. Normally when either My Fair Lady or I show up, the rest of the parents are in the midst of scooping up their children, so Max is ready to go. But on this day, he and the others were enraptured by what their teacher held. She showed off a small tower comprised of four ladders and a plastic frog was stuck in the middle. The teacher would talk softly to one of the kids and touch the ladders to the top of their head before doing it to the next child.
Max and a little girl stood at the back of the circle of kids, so when it was his turn he gingerly stepped forward. He wasn’t entirely sure but he trusted his teacher not to lead him astray. She touched the item to his head and he pointed at the frog, at which point I’m sure he said, “froggie!” Then it was the little girl’s turn but she was having none of it.
At. All.
She stepped back and vigorously shook her head side to side. No way! The teacher calmly asked Max if he could convince her that it was alright.
Max looked at the little girl, then reached over and took her hand in his. He had a look on his face that said, “it’s okay, I did it and it’s alright.” He didn’t pull her into the circle either. He gently tugged on her, urging her forward with a sense of caring for the well being of another that I hadn’t seen from him. The girl still wouldn’t do it, so Max let go of her and walked over to the teacher to try and get the froggie out. Yes, he was successful.
That was the point where I stepped to the door and got his attention. He immediately smiled, pointed at me to let the teachers know that he was outta there, then ran to the door. When we got out in the hall, I gave Max a big hug and whispered in his ear, “I’m so proud of you big man. Thank you for being so sweet.” He replied, “I poopie!” and grabbed his crotch.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Mommy's Robe
A few years ago, I gave My Fair Lady an anniversary gift of a fluffy pink bathrobe. It’s soft, comfortable, and she hates that she can’t wear it during the height of summer due to the heat. Our little man has, apparently, taken a shine to it as well. Once we take him into his bedroom post bath, we set him down on the changing table and proceed to put on his diaper and jammies. He then likes to say “Mommy’s robe.”
Whenever I would read to him and lay him down, I wear my robe which is actually two robes in one. Both are old and in need of replacing, but I combined them a number of years ago to maximize my comfort level. Max would continue to say “Mommy’s robe!” even after I put mine on.
This was disheartening on a number of levels.
For starters, it told me that he preferred mommy to put him down at night. For another, I began to think that he didn’t like my robe. Why the hell is a two-year-old critical of my fashion selection? I don’t CARE if the edges are frayed and the thing is falling apart. Don’t you dare tell me how to dress!! AHHH!!
Sorry.
So on a whim, I put on mommy’s robe and he was all smiles. I wore it while reading to him. I wore it while rocking him a little bit afterwards, and walked out of the room with it still on. I’m man enough to do what it takes to make my child happy.
My Fair Lady, on the other hand, was disheartened to see that our little man more enthusiastic about her robe than with either of us. I was just satisfied to know that it wasn’t me that was putting him off. So going forward, mommy’s robe will be the one used to put him down. I’m now adding a manlier version of this robe to my 2011 Christmas list.
Whenever I would read to him and lay him down, I wear my robe which is actually two robes in one. Both are old and in need of replacing, but I combined them a number of years ago to maximize my comfort level. Max would continue to say “Mommy’s robe!” even after I put mine on.
This was disheartening on a number of levels.
For starters, it told me that he preferred mommy to put him down at night. For another, I began to think that he didn’t like my robe. Why the hell is a two-year-old critical of my fashion selection? I don’t CARE if the edges are frayed and the thing is falling apart. Don’t you dare tell me how to dress!! AHHH!!
Sorry.
So on a whim, I put on mommy’s robe and he was all smiles. I wore it while reading to him. I wore it while rocking him a little bit afterwards, and walked out of the room with it still on. I’m man enough to do what it takes to make my child happy.
My Fair Lady, on the other hand, was disheartened to see that our little man more enthusiastic about her robe than with either of us. I was just satisfied to know that it wasn’t me that was putting him off. So going forward, mommy’s robe will be the one used to put him down. I’m now adding a manlier version of this robe to my 2011 Christmas list.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Gaming Thoughts 03/07/11
Okay, so I’m a little late with this. Last week was a running exercise in absolutely lacking motivation. Combine that with anxiety over a possible upgrade on my day job which ultimately failed to materialize, and I haven’t exactly been the most focused of late. But with my inability to seal the deal on this last, I’ve come to a reluctant conclusion. I intend to keep my head down, work hard, earn a paycheck, and focus on my family and hobbies for the remainder of 2011.
Which means no additional distractions will be allowed in. Due to the public nature of this blog, I’m not going to specify those. Suffice to say, that this year will be a writing intensive year and that trend goes forth right now. When you consider I turn 34 this weekend, I’m long past the point where I should have “gotten on this.” I have a hard deadline of early June for a script contest I’ve decided to enter, which is about a week before I leave for E3. That follows several weeks worth of trips and parties and precedes more weeks of trips and parties. Then we’re into the fall and you can forget about it because from October on, each and every year, my feet barely touch the ground.
Ahh, the joys of adulthood.
Speaking of travel, this trailer for “Dead Island” should not be on your must-watch list if you’re heading to Hawaii anytime soon. It’s gorgeous, emotionally devastating, black hearted, and mean as hell. It’s for a video game and it depressed the hell out of me. I’m not kidding. I defy you to watch this and not sit there in shock at the end of everything you just saw. It also does in three minutes what "The Walking Dead" failed to do in six hours.
The catch on this game is the difficulty. You’re a tourist on an island and a zombie outbreak occurs. Fine. Heard that one a million times. But the catch on this one is that the only weapons available are those that would naturally be found in such a scenario. No rocket launchers. No gatling guns. No flamethrowers or heavy artillery or boxing gloves with knives strapped to them. What you find is a fireaxe in the hallway near a fire alarm. A paddle next to a kayak at the docks. A gun hidden in a safe in the manager’s office with only nine rounds of ammunition and no more in sight.
Feel safe yet?
I’m dying to try this one out based on the concept that you’re finally an average soul in the middle of a worst case scenario with the freedom to go anywhere. The challenge is going to be figuring out how best to defend yourself against an army of undead when weaponry is limited in scope, and few and far between in location.
And that trailer is a knockout, pure and simple. It’s stunning. It’s all digital, it’s about a zombie game, and it packs more of an emotional wallop in two minutes than most of the movies Hollywood released in all of last year. Looking at you “Scott Pilgrim.”
I’ve still been playing “Enslaved” of late and the game continues to improve the further you go. Watching as the central characters further the growth of their relationship is astounding. I honestly care what happens to them both right now and that wasn’t the case when I started the game. There’s only been one significant hiccup thus far and it’s having to race through a minefield. It’s a play on the old “memorize the pattern/path” and it’s easy enough to beat the third or fourth time you try. But the point is that gaming should have evolved past this process. It was fine in the coin-op days when developers had to milk every last quarter out of our pockets. But now it’s just stupid, along with save points.
To that end, I’m encouraged by reports coming in that Activision is flailing. That may sound odd coming from a member of the gaming press, but here’s the catch: They ain’t the only ones. The big dogs of the gaming world spend millions upon millions for retreads (how much was spent beating the Guitar Hero franchise into the ground?) with nary an original thought to be found. Then guess who walked in the door?
Apple.
The iPhone has sparked a revolution in countless ways, but one of which is the democratization of video game development. Can a guy working out of his office crank out the next Grand Theft Auto? Probably not. But the trick is that he now gets the chance to at least try. This is where Yoda and I disagree. If you don’t try, how will you know if you can? The game Angry Birds is apparently sweeping the country and I can’t figure out why. I’ve played it. Yawn. There’s not much to it and it’s a simple strategy game… unless this is the first game you’ve ever tried. Then it must come off as genius.
Seriously. All the Junior Leaguers and other people who I know that have never tried games before are hooked on Angry Birds. What this means is that they’re more willing to try more and more games for $.99 on their iPhones which translates to vastly more opportunities for indie developers to have their wares seen. For a relatively small amount of money, one person can build a game and sell it to the public at large via digital distribution.
Hello Future, so good of you to kick in my front door and help yourself to the fridge. STAY OUT OF MY ICE CREAM!
I don’t have numbers on me right now, but they’re available online if you really want to look. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a large number of mergers and acquisitions occur in the next 24-36 months in the games industry as one large company gobbles up another and another. I don’t think consoles are going anywhere, but I DO think that the games industry has been blindsided by the rapid growth of iPhone and Android compatible mobile games. Their monopoly on flogging franchises isn’t over by any means, but they can definitely see the horizon and it’s filled with an army of younger, hungrier indie developers who are no longer chained. Those new voices may not always make the best or even the most successful games, but at least now they have the opportunity and the format in which they can try.
And what iPhone game am I most hooked on? Dungeon Raid. At heart, it’s a match three tile game but its theme is that of an RPG. You match gold coins to buy weapons, spells, and general upgrades. You match shields to increase your armor to the point where you can upgrade that. You match red potions to increase your health. And you match swords to do damage to enemies. Where the strategy comes into play is that as you increase in strength, so to do your foes. Among the monsters are occasional bosses who perform different means of attack each round. Strategy is required along with a healthy dose of luck. Entire games have blown past without seeing particular status enhancing drops, then three of the same will appear in a row in a subsequent round.
The game also takes a hilarious swipe at the conventions of the genre by randomly generating a backstory for your character at the outset. It always varies in some form of you being the chosen one, which is absolutely hilarious for anyone who has ever played those games. Whatever happened to your character minding his/her own business before the world came crashing down on your front door step?
If you have an iPhone, it’s a lot of fun and worth checking out.
Which means no additional distractions will be allowed in. Due to the public nature of this blog, I’m not going to specify those. Suffice to say, that this year will be a writing intensive year and that trend goes forth right now. When you consider I turn 34 this weekend, I’m long past the point where I should have “gotten on this.” I have a hard deadline of early June for a script contest I’ve decided to enter, which is about a week before I leave for E3. That follows several weeks worth of trips and parties and precedes more weeks of trips and parties. Then we’re into the fall and you can forget about it because from October on, each and every year, my feet barely touch the ground.
Ahh, the joys of adulthood.
Speaking of travel, this trailer for “Dead Island” should not be on your must-watch list if you’re heading to Hawaii anytime soon. It’s gorgeous, emotionally devastating, black hearted, and mean as hell. It’s for a video game and it depressed the hell out of me. I’m not kidding. I defy you to watch this and not sit there in shock at the end of everything you just saw. It also does in three minutes what "The Walking Dead" failed to do in six hours.
The catch on this game is the difficulty. You’re a tourist on an island and a zombie outbreak occurs. Fine. Heard that one a million times. But the catch on this one is that the only weapons available are those that would naturally be found in such a scenario. No rocket launchers. No gatling guns. No flamethrowers or heavy artillery or boxing gloves with knives strapped to them. What you find is a fireaxe in the hallway near a fire alarm. A paddle next to a kayak at the docks. A gun hidden in a safe in the manager’s office with only nine rounds of ammunition and no more in sight.
Feel safe yet?
I’m dying to try this one out based on the concept that you’re finally an average soul in the middle of a worst case scenario with the freedom to go anywhere. The challenge is going to be figuring out how best to defend yourself against an army of undead when weaponry is limited in scope, and few and far between in location.
And that trailer is a knockout, pure and simple. It’s stunning. It’s all digital, it’s about a zombie game, and it packs more of an emotional wallop in two minutes than most of the movies Hollywood released in all of last year. Looking at you “Scott Pilgrim.”
I’ve still been playing “Enslaved” of late and the game continues to improve the further you go. Watching as the central characters further the growth of their relationship is astounding. I honestly care what happens to them both right now and that wasn’t the case when I started the game. There’s only been one significant hiccup thus far and it’s having to race through a minefield. It’s a play on the old “memorize the pattern/path” and it’s easy enough to beat the third or fourth time you try. But the point is that gaming should have evolved past this process. It was fine in the coin-op days when developers had to milk every last quarter out of our pockets. But now it’s just stupid, along with save points.
To that end, I’m encouraged by reports coming in that Activision is flailing. That may sound odd coming from a member of the gaming press, but here’s the catch: They ain’t the only ones. The big dogs of the gaming world spend millions upon millions for retreads (how much was spent beating the Guitar Hero franchise into the ground?) with nary an original thought to be found. Then guess who walked in the door?
Apple.
The iPhone has sparked a revolution in countless ways, but one of which is the democratization of video game development. Can a guy working out of his office crank out the next Grand Theft Auto? Probably not. But the trick is that he now gets the chance to at least try. This is where Yoda and I disagree. If you don’t try, how will you know if you can? The game Angry Birds is apparently sweeping the country and I can’t figure out why. I’ve played it. Yawn. There’s not much to it and it’s a simple strategy game… unless this is the first game you’ve ever tried. Then it must come off as genius.
Seriously. All the Junior Leaguers and other people who I know that have never tried games before are hooked on Angry Birds. What this means is that they’re more willing to try more and more games for $.99 on their iPhones which translates to vastly more opportunities for indie developers to have their wares seen. For a relatively small amount of money, one person can build a game and sell it to the public at large via digital distribution.
Hello Future, so good of you to kick in my front door and help yourself to the fridge. STAY OUT OF MY ICE CREAM!
I don’t have numbers on me right now, but they’re available online if you really want to look. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a large number of mergers and acquisitions occur in the next 24-36 months in the games industry as one large company gobbles up another and another. I don’t think consoles are going anywhere, but I DO think that the games industry has been blindsided by the rapid growth of iPhone and Android compatible mobile games. Their monopoly on flogging franchises isn’t over by any means, but they can definitely see the horizon and it’s filled with an army of younger, hungrier indie developers who are no longer chained. Those new voices may not always make the best or even the most successful games, but at least now they have the opportunity and the format in which they can try.
And what iPhone game am I most hooked on? Dungeon Raid. At heart, it’s a match three tile game but its theme is that of an RPG. You match gold coins to buy weapons, spells, and general upgrades. You match shields to increase your armor to the point where you can upgrade that. You match red potions to increase your health. And you match swords to do damage to enemies. Where the strategy comes into play is that as you increase in strength, so to do your foes. Among the monsters are occasional bosses who perform different means of attack each round. Strategy is required along with a healthy dose of luck. Entire games have blown past without seeing particular status enhancing drops, then three of the same will appear in a row in a subsequent round.
The game also takes a hilarious swipe at the conventions of the genre by randomly generating a backstory for your character at the outset. It always varies in some form of you being the chosen one, which is absolutely hilarious for anyone who has ever played those games. Whatever happened to your character minding his/her own business before the world came crashing down on your front door step?
If you have an iPhone, it’s a lot of fun and worth checking out.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Showing Off
Max has started showing off. Monday night saw Casa de Skim play host to our neighborhood high-stakes winner-take-all fight-to-the-death bunko matchup. It was also a day that bore witness to said house being professionally cleaned top to bottom for, I believe, the first time ever. We decided to try out this service because of a friend’s recommendation and the very real need to have it scrubbed ceiling to floorboard.
I showed up about 6 p.m. and she was still there. Apparently she has an assistant who helps out but was unavailable this time. The woman arrived there at 10 a.m. and was still freaking there at 6 p.m. and had STILL not mopped and cleaned the kitchen. I wasn’t apoplectic or anything, but it stunned me to think of how long it must have taken her to do each room. For the record, it’s not like we’re one McDonald’s bag away from starring on “Hoarders.” We keep things pretty straight and tidy but don’t run the Roomba as often as we should.
My calm exterior belied a raging undercurrent when I walked in. But all that evaporated as I inspected the rest of the house. In a word, it was perfect. The windows were spotless, the floor was dirtless, and we could eat off the bathroom counters. So she may have moved rather slowly, but her determination to clean the Hell out of each room was evident.
The trouble was, she hadn’t finished a critical room that would be filled with neighborhood ladies in approximately one hour. The scramble was on to feed Max and finish off the work after she left.
Let’s just say it was a mad dash down to the last second. Once the women started showing up, I took Max into his bedroom where we wrestled, played, and read a few books. Before his bath time, he ran out and greeted the women. He also climbed up on his horse to show how awesome a rider he was. He pointed out his kitchen and in general ran around acting like he was slightly off-kilter. It made us laugh when we realized he was showing off, so I let him do so longer than I should.
Of course, he wanted no part of his bath and threw a tantrum. I’m pouring water on him and washing him down and he’s crying his head off. Ahh, parenthood. Once I dried him off, I threw him into his monkey pajamas and took him out to see momma. He looked around at the women, My Fair Lady hugged and kissed him goodnight, and then we returned to his room to finish the nightly routine. At that point he was calm, and was excited about picking out his books. Fortunately, he went down easily after reading “Horton Hears A Who.” One of the ladies later remarked that her child has screamed bloody murder the entirety of their bunko match.
We got lucky that night, kids. Real lucky.
I showed up about 6 p.m. and she was still there. Apparently she has an assistant who helps out but was unavailable this time. The woman arrived there at 10 a.m. and was still freaking there at 6 p.m. and had STILL not mopped and cleaned the kitchen. I wasn’t apoplectic or anything, but it stunned me to think of how long it must have taken her to do each room. For the record, it’s not like we’re one McDonald’s bag away from starring on “Hoarders.” We keep things pretty straight and tidy but don’t run the Roomba as often as we should.
My calm exterior belied a raging undercurrent when I walked in. But all that evaporated as I inspected the rest of the house. In a word, it was perfect. The windows were spotless, the floor was dirtless, and we could eat off the bathroom counters. So she may have moved rather slowly, but her determination to clean the Hell out of each room was evident.
The trouble was, she hadn’t finished a critical room that would be filled with neighborhood ladies in approximately one hour. The scramble was on to feed Max and finish off the work after she left.
Let’s just say it was a mad dash down to the last second. Once the women started showing up, I took Max into his bedroom where we wrestled, played, and read a few books. Before his bath time, he ran out and greeted the women. He also climbed up on his horse to show how awesome a rider he was. He pointed out his kitchen and in general ran around acting like he was slightly off-kilter. It made us laugh when we realized he was showing off, so I let him do so longer than I should.
Of course, he wanted no part of his bath and threw a tantrum. I’m pouring water on him and washing him down and he’s crying his head off. Ahh, parenthood. Once I dried him off, I threw him into his monkey pajamas and took him out to see momma. He looked around at the women, My Fair Lady hugged and kissed him goodnight, and then we returned to his room to finish the nightly routine. At that point he was calm, and was excited about picking out his books. Fortunately, he went down easily after reading “Horton Hears A Who.” One of the ladies later remarked that her child has screamed bloody murder the entirety of their bunko match.
We got lucky that night, kids. Real lucky.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Gaming Thoughts 02/09/11
Should have gone up in the last few weeks but here it is as I play catch up.
----
I managed to finish off two titles this past weekend and I like this drive to finish what’s on my plate before moving on to the next meal. That’s been my MO for 20 years, and it’s continued to this day despite my best efforts. Last week, I received a game via trade that I’ve been dying to play but opted to hold onto it until I completed at least two of the three games I was working on. As such, I knocked off “Chronicles of Riddick: Assault on Dark Athena” on Saturday night and “Darksiders” on Sunday night and my world was the better for it.
“Dark Athena” still feels like an expansion pack to “Butcher Bay” and I can’t recommend it. It was fun enough for the most part, but the story just stopped about 2/3 of the way through, the villain’s final line was utterly nonsensical under the circumstances, and the finale lends no credence to it being a prequel to the movie “Pitch Black.” It also failed to make convincing use of Vin Diesel as the titular character, which is an amazing feat considering you’re playing as Diesel start to finish. But I rang up some achievements along the way and now I’m done with Riddick.
Moving on to “Darksiders,” I have to take major issue with THQ for this. The final dungeon, such as it is, was totally unnecessary to, well, everything. The setup for the final goes like this: You finally free a big demon named Samael who teleports you to a giant tower. Upon entering, you find the Angel of Death, Azrael, suspended by an energy field. He provides some long missing exposition, then you have to channel three separate energy beams to his prison in order to free him. This ENTIRE dungeon took me the better part of an afternoon to complete. I can say with absolute certainty that the game was not enhanced in any way by this sequence. Strip this sequence out, have a lengthy cutscene where Azrael lays out the story for you, then be on your way. THAT’S how it should have gone, and I’m routinely puzzled by developers who fail to realize that sometimes less is more.
Once you complete the massive waste of time dungeon, you have to track down seven sword pieces scattered across the numerous maps (none of which are small), take them to another place to get them reforged into the Real Ultimate Weapon™, before finally tracking back to Azrael who sends you up against the big bad guy. That’s a heck of a lot of puzzling and problem solving for a story following one of the four horsemen on an act of revenge against an army of monsters. “Darksiders” may have ripped off “The Legend of Zelda” whole hog, but a Zelda-only clone this ain’t. I thought “Darksiders” pilfered everything the industry had seen in the last five years, but I considered throwing in the towel once the “Portal” gun appeared. Seriously? We’re ripping off “Portal” in a game where the mechanic makes absolutely no sense to implement?
To its credit, the finale was pretty good despite blatantly setting up a sequel. To add insult to injury, word came out a week or two ago that the sequel (slated to hit in spring of 2012) would in fact take place at the same time as the first game, thereby not continuing the story so much as milking the same cow from a different angle. Sigh. Throughout “Darksiders,” you get the sense that a much, much larger story is at work even if those nuggets of information are few and far between. If you have a “LOST” vibe then you’re not alone. When some big revelations hit late in the game, they allow for all manner of directions in a sequel. But that would have to be a sequel which continues forward rather than steps to the side.
Stupid is as stupid does I guess.
Fortunately I’ve found a dazzler. Upon completing “Darksiders,” I transitioned over to “Enslaved” and I think I’m in love. Right now I’m up to chapter four (of about 13 or 14 I think) and it’s fabulous. Thus far. I reserve the right to change my opinion should the game suddenly drop off the Cliff of Stupid as so many other titles do. They start out strong, gain momentum, then… nothing. Either they simply run out of ideas and repeat themselves (looking at you “Halo”) or they fail utterly to stick the landing (too many to count). So fingers crossed for “Enslaved” but I’ll tell you what my favorite aspect is—the setting.
The game is set in the far-flung future where mankind has been decimated and some unknown apocalypse has flattened the globe. Cities lie in ruin. Heavily armed mobs of rusting robots patrol the broken streets. No signs of life are to be found anywhere. Sound familiar? To me, it sounds like just about most every post-apocalyptic game ever released. But “Enslaved” has a crucial distinction, one which I think will lead people in the future to reconsider its appeal.
In the future of “Enslaved,” Mother Nature has reclaimed the land. Vines, shrubs, grass, and trees grow everywhere—even from the tops of crumbling buildings. The cloudless sky is a beautiful azure blue. Sunlight glints off exposed, rusting girders. Through this genuine urban jungle, the two main characters must venture. They arrived courtesy of a slaver space craft (though whether from outer space or a different part of the planet hasn’t been specified as of yet) and have to trek some 300 miles to the west to find sanctuary. Thus far, the two have started working as a team and begun to rely on one another.
In short, it’s brilliant. The game takes you to dizzying heights that rapidly fall out from under you, throws new environment-based challenges at you so quickly it’s tough to keep up, and focuses a tremendous amount of energy on the evolving relationship between the male and female leads. As I said, I love it. I can’t wait to see where this thing goes and if it fails to stick the landing I’m going to be sorely disappointed.
----
I managed to finish off two titles this past weekend and I like this drive to finish what’s on my plate before moving on to the next meal. That’s been my MO for 20 years, and it’s continued to this day despite my best efforts. Last week, I received a game via trade that I’ve been dying to play but opted to hold onto it until I completed at least two of the three games I was working on. As such, I knocked off “Chronicles of Riddick: Assault on Dark Athena” on Saturday night and “Darksiders” on Sunday night and my world was the better for it.
“Dark Athena” still feels like an expansion pack to “Butcher Bay” and I can’t recommend it. It was fun enough for the most part, but the story just stopped about 2/3 of the way through, the villain’s final line was utterly nonsensical under the circumstances, and the finale lends no credence to it being a prequel to the movie “Pitch Black.” It also failed to make convincing use of Vin Diesel as the titular character, which is an amazing feat considering you’re playing as Diesel start to finish. But I rang up some achievements along the way and now I’m done with Riddick.
Moving on to “Darksiders,” I have to take major issue with THQ for this. The final dungeon, such as it is, was totally unnecessary to, well, everything. The setup for the final goes like this: You finally free a big demon named Samael who teleports you to a giant tower. Upon entering, you find the Angel of Death, Azrael, suspended by an energy field. He provides some long missing exposition, then you have to channel three separate energy beams to his prison in order to free him. This ENTIRE dungeon took me the better part of an afternoon to complete. I can say with absolute certainty that the game was not enhanced in any way by this sequence. Strip this sequence out, have a lengthy cutscene where Azrael lays out the story for you, then be on your way. THAT’S how it should have gone, and I’m routinely puzzled by developers who fail to realize that sometimes less is more.
Once you complete the massive waste of time dungeon, you have to track down seven sword pieces scattered across the numerous maps (none of which are small), take them to another place to get them reforged into the Real Ultimate Weapon™, before finally tracking back to Azrael who sends you up against the big bad guy. That’s a heck of a lot of puzzling and problem solving for a story following one of the four horsemen on an act of revenge against an army of monsters. “Darksiders” may have ripped off “The Legend of Zelda” whole hog, but a Zelda-only clone this ain’t. I thought “Darksiders” pilfered everything the industry had seen in the last five years, but I considered throwing in the towel once the “Portal” gun appeared. Seriously? We’re ripping off “Portal” in a game where the mechanic makes absolutely no sense to implement?
To its credit, the finale was pretty good despite blatantly setting up a sequel. To add insult to injury, word came out a week or two ago that the sequel (slated to hit in spring of 2012) would in fact take place at the same time as the first game, thereby not continuing the story so much as milking the same cow from a different angle. Sigh. Throughout “Darksiders,” you get the sense that a much, much larger story is at work even if those nuggets of information are few and far between. If you have a “LOST” vibe then you’re not alone. When some big revelations hit late in the game, they allow for all manner of directions in a sequel. But that would have to be a sequel which continues forward rather than steps to the side.
Stupid is as stupid does I guess.
Fortunately I’ve found a dazzler. Upon completing “Darksiders,” I transitioned over to “Enslaved” and I think I’m in love. Right now I’m up to chapter four (of about 13 or 14 I think) and it’s fabulous. Thus far. I reserve the right to change my opinion should the game suddenly drop off the Cliff of Stupid as so many other titles do. They start out strong, gain momentum, then… nothing. Either they simply run out of ideas and repeat themselves (looking at you “Halo”) or they fail utterly to stick the landing (too many to count). So fingers crossed for “Enslaved” but I’ll tell you what my favorite aspect is—the setting.
The game is set in the far-flung future where mankind has been decimated and some unknown apocalypse has flattened the globe. Cities lie in ruin. Heavily armed mobs of rusting robots patrol the broken streets. No signs of life are to be found anywhere. Sound familiar? To me, it sounds like just about most every post-apocalyptic game ever released. But “Enslaved” has a crucial distinction, one which I think will lead people in the future to reconsider its appeal.
In the future of “Enslaved,” Mother Nature has reclaimed the land. Vines, shrubs, grass, and trees grow everywhere—even from the tops of crumbling buildings. The cloudless sky is a beautiful azure blue. Sunlight glints off exposed, rusting girders. Through this genuine urban jungle, the two main characters must venture. They arrived courtesy of a slaver space craft (though whether from outer space or a different part of the planet hasn’t been specified as of yet) and have to trek some 300 miles to the west to find sanctuary. Thus far, the two have started working as a team and begun to rely on one another.
In short, it’s brilliant. The game takes you to dizzying heights that rapidly fall out from under you, throws new environment-based challenges at you so quickly it’s tough to keep up, and focuses a tremendous amount of energy on the evolving relationship between the male and female leads. As I said, I love it. I can’t wait to see where this thing goes and if it fails to stick the landing I’m going to be sorely disappointed.
Snowbound
Below is the story I wrote during the snowpocalypse of '11. Obviously, didn't quite get it posted until now but here it is.
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If you aren’t still stuck under 13 feet of snow in the northeast, north Texas got hammered this past week by a massive ice storm. If that wasn’t enough, the storm called in reinforcements which proceeded to drop several inches of snow on top of the ice. Oh, and the temperature hovered around 15 for pretty much the whole week.
This was exactly the kind of weather Texas is known for, which made for an especially amusing spectacle as Arlington played host to the Superbowl at Jerry World.
There was a joke running rampant that this was Tom Landry’s revenge upon Jerry Jones and I had to laugh. Even though I wasn’t even a teenager at the time, I can clearly remember the level of vitriol directed at Jones for how he outright fired Landry. It remains to this day a classless and tasteless act that no single Cowboys fan of the era will ever forget or forgive. I say this as someone with no attachment to the team or the sport at large. But if you live here and were conscious at the time, then you know and understand the lingering anger towards Jones.
Ergo, Landry’s revenge.
But more than that, the storm essentially shut down the metroplex for a week resulting in a staggering loss of productivity. My Fair Lady was at work every day last week save Friday, while I missed both Wednesday and Friday. The roads weren’t too bad on Thursday, and once you exited the suburbs things improved dramatically. Things were looking up until midnight on Thursday when the snow hit. By Friday morning, there was over six inches of snow on the ground at my house. When I tried to go to the store as a test run, I power slid down my alley and almost punched through a neighbor’s fence. This was the point where I turned around, went home, and dutifully notified my boss that I would not be attended work that day. The office closed for the day an hour later.
Being trapped in the house Friday did have its advantages. We cranked up the fireplace, let Max run outside and play in the snow, and My Fair Lady made a snow angel. Once Max woke up from his nap, we introduced him to “Toy Story 3” which, funny enough, I’d never seen (full review pending). He got a major kick from it but then asked to watch “Horton” again (as in “Horton Hears A Who”). We opted to feed him dinner then put him to bed.
Once the snow melted, we bolted to the store and I didn’t realize until that point how much cabin fever had set in. I can tolerate being at home for a few days, but anything more than that and I start to go postal. Throw in weather that’s the rough equivalent of the apocalypse in this neck of the country, and I was full blown stir crazy by Saturday. I don’t mind being at home voluntarily, but I go nuts when I’m held there against my will. And yes, I say against my will because unlike some other people I am not the best driver on ice and snow and recognize that fact. Ergo, I do my best not to drive on it until it melts.
Now we’re looking at the same hitting again on Wednesday but it’s only one night. I mean, how bad can it get?
/takes shelter
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If you aren’t still stuck under 13 feet of snow in the northeast, north Texas got hammered this past week by a massive ice storm. If that wasn’t enough, the storm called in reinforcements which proceeded to drop several inches of snow on top of the ice. Oh, and the temperature hovered around 15 for pretty much the whole week.
This was exactly the kind of weather Texas is known for, which made for an especially amusing spectacle as Arlington played host to the Superbowl at Jerry World.
There was a joke running rampant that this was Tom Landry’s revenge upon Jerry Jones and I had to laugh. Even though I wasn’t even a teenager at the time, I can clearly remember the level of vitriol directed at Jones for how he outright fired Landry. It remains to this day a classless and tasteless act that no single Cowboys fan of the era will ever forget or forgive. I say this as someone with no attachment to the team or the sport at large. But if you live here and were conscious at the time, then you know and understand the lingering anger towards Jones.
Ergo, Landry’s revenge.
But more than that, the storm essentially shut down the metroplex for a week resulting in a staggering loss of productivity. My Fair Lady was at work every day last week save Friday, while I missed both Wednesday and Friday. The roads weren’t too bad on Thursday, and once you exited the suburbs things improved dramatically. Things were looking up until midnight on Thursday when the snow hit. By Friday morning, there was over six inches of snow on the ground at my house. When I tried to go to the store as a test run, I power slid down my alley and almost punched through a neighbor’s fence. This was the point where I turned around, went home, and dutifully notified my boss that I would not be attended work that day. The office closed for the day an hour later.
Being trapped in the house Friday did have its advantages. We cranked up the fireplace, let Max run outside and play in the snow, and My Fair Lady made a snow angel. Once Max woke up from his nap, we introduced him to “Toy Story 3” which, funny enough, I’d never seen (full review pending). He got a major kick from it but then asked to watch “Horton” again (as in “Horton Hears A Who”). We opted to feed him dinner then put him to bed.
Once the snow melted, we bolted to the store and I didn’t realize until that point how much cabin fever had set in. I can tolerate being at home for a few days, but anything more than that and I start to go postal. Throw in weather that’s the rough equivalent of the apocalypse in this neck of the country, and I was full blown stir crazy by Saturday. I don’t mind being at home voluntarily, but I go nuts when I’m held there against my will. And yes, I say against my will because unlike some other people I am not the best driver on ice and snow and recognize that fact. Ergo, I do my best not to drive on it until it melts.
Now we’re looking at the same hitting again on Wednesday but it’s only one night. I mean, how bad can it get?
/takes shelter
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
And here we are a month later
My how time flies. Been an insane month. Lots of posts typed up and are coming right now.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Weekly Gaming Notes
I’d like to start off the second month of 2011 by blogging more. The concept took hold roughly two years ago but didn’t really take. However, this past weekend saw me complete a wide variety of tasks that had been left either incomplete for several years, or were never started in the first place. I want to keep that ball rolling uphill and return some of my free time back to writing. One of those goals is to give a sort of weekly update on what games I’m working through, why, and what’s still on deck. These updates may be long, short, or in between. If you’re looking for gaming news, I’d recommend the site I write for – Gaming Trend.
So what do I have on deck at the moment? Well, since I sold my PS2 three months ago and haven’t touched the Wii in ages, I’m left with the 360 and PC. I haven’t used my PC for long gaming nights for a while due to the mass clutter in the office. You know how once you move into a house, there is always one room that becomes the equivalent of a black hole? It just consumes everything you can’t find a place for eventually spilling out of the closet, all over the floor, and even climbing up onto the shelves.
That would be our office for the last two years. To compound matters, my office desk has been a black picnic table since 2000. It may lack points in style, but it’s a sturdy beast with a wide breadth. While the rest of the office saw a gradual accumulation of stuff from My Fair Lady, myself, and Max over the years, the junk on my desk has been exclusively mine. Bills, documents, story ideas, stickers, CDs, a printer, and even a small Dia de los Muertos doll I’ve named Manny.
The reason I bring this up is because I need you to imagine sitting at such a “desk” with all that stuff piled high on it, and a ton of stuff on the floor back behind you. If you peg the sensation in your mind as “claustrophobic” you’d be correct. My Fair Lady recently asked me why I never seemed to game much in there anymore. I pointed out that whenever I sat at my desk for longer than 30 seconds, I felt like I was about to be crushed in a trash compactor.
One thing’s for sure, I’d at least be a lot thinner.
Then My Fair Lady got a wild hair. Either that or she finally snapped and had enough. Over the course of three days, she harnessed her considerable willpower and aimed it squarely at the office’s heart. As a result of her diligence and devotion, we can once again see the floor (I think the last time was the day we moved in). I also took an evening to clean up and organize my desk so even those piles are gone. The end result--I no longer mind when she claims the main television because I can play games on my PC once again.
And there was much rejoicing.
As such, my backlog grew by one a few weeks ago when I snagged Darksiders via Steam for $9. Certainly can’t go wrong on the price tag. It’s a third-person action game where you control War—as in one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—during the Final Battle™. Or at least that’s what War thinks it is, at first. Evil and Good clash on the surface of Earth and naturally people are freaked out. Chaos reigns and demons and angels clash everywhere. War shows up, starts laying down a considerable amount of pain before figuring out that something’s wrong.
He’s the only Horseman who showed up. Apparently the Seventh Seal was never broken (which is what signals the End of Days and summons the Four per Biblical lore) so the battle shouldn’t even be happening. Right as he’s demanding to know what’s going on, War is defeated by a demon roughly the size of a building. He goes before judgment in the netherworld where he’s given a reprieve since technically it wasn’t his fault. He can’t come unless called, ergo he couldn’t have started the war in the first place since starting things is not his specialty.
Ending things, however, is exactly what he specializes in and he sets out on a path of vengeance… and where have we heard that before? To its credit, “Darksiders” is filled with an amazing amount of inventive grotesque. The character designs, backgrounds, animation, finishing moves, and bevy of otherworldly elements are uniformly terrific. The action is non-stop, most of the puzzles are easy enough to figure out despite taking a hell of a long time to finish, and the story is intriguing enough to want to see where things go. But there are two problems here that need addressing.
The same goes doubly for Chronicles of Riddick—Assault on Dark Athena which came out two years ago and that I’m finally playing now. It’s a double bill with the original Xbox title “Escape From Butcher Bay” available too. It’s just as well considering that Dark Athena looks, feels, and plays like an expansion pack for Butcher Bay. The first game was exciting when I played it at the time, but less so now. Apparently nostalgia has again blinded me because it hasn’t aged well. Both titles serve as prequels to Pitch Black, which is a gem of a sci-fi monster movie if you’ve never seen it.
The setup for it is a spaceship crashes on a deserted planet. The survivors include a motley assortment of colonists, a mercenary, and the prisoner he was transporting. Said prisoner happens to be the most notorious killer in the galaxy and is known simply as Riddick as played by Vin Diesel in his breakout role, Riddick is primarily about screwing with people’s minds more so than hunting and killing them. He doesn’t seem to mind being stuck on an empty world because hey, it’s better than prison right? Things get a lot more complicated when the pilot discovers the planet’s about to go into a year-long eclipse at which point millions of nocturnal monsters will head to the surface, hungry after a 30-year hibernation.
Like I said, it’s a hell of a little film that does not in any way play things safe. The two games are set prior to movie’s events so that we’d get to see the hardened Riddick actually break out of a maximum security slam. The first game nails the atmosphere of a futuristic, gritty, underground prison so much so that you can practically feel the grim on the walls. The missions, though, are little more than fetch quests between a total of about 10 different non-playable characters (NPCs). Due to tech limits of the time, it wasn’t an open world game by any means. You also have to finish missions a certain way and in a particular order and that absolutely kills the immersion and replayability many years hence.
But I blew through it anyway to get in the right mindset for Dark Athena. I then raced through Athena in roughly five hours and I’m nearing the final mission now. Wow. Talk about short and a lost opportunity. Riddick is a strong character, albeit a fairly narrow minded one, that good writers could have a field day with. I’d still love to see good writers take a shot at crafting a good story for the character because I have yet to see one. I enjoyed Butcher Bay again in large part because the concept and story were so good, but the execution is what suffers. It may have been fine at the time, but current technology combined with general improvements to games have rendered it obsolete. Dark Athena plays much the same way without adding any such improvements, the result being a lifeless, stilted title in search of a stronger narrative.
But finishing it off gets me this much closer to clearing out my backlog. That’s my overall goal this year because while there will be games I need to lay claim to in 2011, I want to finish one or two games before picking up a new one. That’s my plan anyway. We’ll see how many weeks it takes me to violate that pledge.
So what do I have on deck at the moment? Well, since I sold my PS2 three months ago and haven’t touched the Wii in ages, I’m left with the 360 and PC. I haven’t used my PC for long gaming nights for a while due to the mass clutter in the office. You know how once you move into a house, there is always one room that becomes the equivalent of a black hole? It just consumes everything you can’t find a place for eventually spilling out of the closet, all over the floor, and even climbing up onto the shelves.
That would be our office for the last two years. To compound matters, my office desk has been a black picnic table since 2000. It may lack points in style, but it’s a sturdy beast with a wide breadth. While the rest of the office saw a gradual accumulation of stuff from My Fair Lady, myself, and Max over the years, the junk on my desk has been exclusively mine. Bills, documents, story ideas, stickers, CDs, a printer, and even a small Dia de los Muertos doll I’ve named Manny.
The reason I bring this up is because I need you to imagine sitting at such a “desk” with all that stuff piled high on it, and a ton of stuff on the floor back behind you. If you peg the sensation in your mind as “claustrophobic” you’d be correct. My Fair Lady recently asked me why I never seemed to game much in there anymore. I pointed out that whenever I sat at my desk for longer than 30 seconds, I felt like I was about to be crushed in a trash compactor.
One thing’s for sure, I’d at least be a lot thinner.
Then My Fair Lady got a wild hair. Either that or she finally snapped and had enough. Over the course of three days, she harnessed her considerable willpower and aimed it squarely at the office’s heart. As a result of her diligence and devotion, we can once again see the floor (I think the last time was the day we moved in). I also took an evening to clean up and organize my desk so even those piles are gone. The end result--I no longer mind when she claims the main television because I can play games on my PC once again.
And there was much rejoicing.
As such, my backlog grew by one a few weeks ago when I snagged Darksiders via Steam for $9. Certainly can’t go wrong on the price tag. It’s a third-person action game where you control War—as in one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—during the Final Battle™. Or at least that’s what War thinks it is, at first. Evil and Good clash on the surface of Earth and naturally people are freaked out. Chaos reigns and demons and angels clash everywhere. War shows up, starts laying down a considerable amount of pain before figuring out that something’s wrong.
He’s the only Horseman who showed up. Apparently the Seventh Seal was never broken (which is what signals the End of Days and summons the Four per Biblical lore) so the battle shouldn’t even be happening. Right as he’s demanding to know what’s going on, War is defeated by a demon roughly the size of a building. He goes before judgment in the netherworld where he’s given a reprieve since technically it wasn’t his fault. He can’t come unless called, ergo he couldn’t have started the war in the first place since starting things is not his specialty.
Ending things, however, is exactly what he specializes in and he sets out on a path of vengeance… and where have we heard that before? To its credit, “Darksiders” is filled with an amazing amount of inventive grotesque. The character designs, backgrounds, animation, finishing moves, and bevy of otherworldly elements are uniformly terrific. The action is non-stop, most of the puzzles are easy enough to figure out despite taking a hell of a long time to finish, and the story is intriguing enough to want to see where things go. But there are two problems here that need addressing.
1) The story can’t possibly have a happy ending. War is defeated at the start and disappears into the ether as I mentioned. When he’s sent back, it’s 100 years later and humanity and practically everything else has been wiped out. War literally traverses a dead planet hoping to find whoever essentially set him up but to what end? What’s the ending here? Say he finds the bad guy, whips his/its ass, and stands victorious? Over what exactly? Ash? Bombed out and ruined buildings? A planet so bereft of anything that it would need to be destroyed and recreated by God just to make things as they were (thereby effectively calling it Earth 2)?Obviously, I haven’t completed it yet otherwise I’d have my answer on #1. One thing I’ll give the developers credit for is they crafted a heck of a long game considering the storyline isn’t its strong suit.
2)War himself. If all it takes is a Horseman for the Apocalypse to kick off, why pick the one who is guaranteed to kick your ass? Pick Famine as your foe. What’s he gonna do—raze your crops? Fine. That helps you out if you’re intent is to wipe out humanity and claim their souls. Bring Famine on down! But War? The essence of pure conflict crammed into the body of Arnold Schwarzenegger wrapped in body armor adorned with skulls and wielding a sword the size of a freaking car? Sure, pick a fight with that guy and let me know how that works out for you.
The same goes doubly for Chronicles of Riddick—Assault on Dark Athena which came out two years ago and that I’m finally playing now. It’s a double bill with the original Xbox title “Escape From Butcher Bay” available too. It’s just as well considering that Dark Athena looks, feels, and plays like an expansion pack for Butcher Bay. The first game was exciting when I played it at the time, but less so now. Apparently nostalgia has again blinded me because it hasn’t aged well. Both titles serve as prequels to Pitch Black, which is a gem of a sci-fi monster movie if you’ve never seen it.
The setup for it is a spaceship crashes on a deserted planet. The survivors include a motley assortment of colonists, a mercenary, and the prisoner he was transporting. Said prisoner happens to be the most notorious killer in the galaxy and is known simply as Riddick as played by Vin Diesel in his breakout role, Riddick is primarily about screwing with people’s minds more so than hunting and killing them. He doesn’t seem to mind being stuck on an empty world because hey, it’s better than prison right? Things get a lot more complicated when the pilot discovers the planet’s about to go into a year-long eclipse at which point millions of nocturnal monsters will head to the surface, hungry after a 30-year hibernation.
Like I said, it’s a hell of a little film that does not in any way play things safe. The two games are set prior to movie’s events so that we’d get to see the hardened Riddick actually break out of a maximum security slam. The first game nails the atmosphere of a futuristic, gritty, underground prison so much so that you can practically feel the grim on the walls. The missions, though, are little more than fetch quests between a total of about 10 different non-playable characters (NPCs). Due to tech limits of the time, it wasn’t an open world game by any means. You also have to finish missions a certain way and in a particular order and that absolutely kills the immersion and replayability many years hence.
But I blew through it anyway to get in the right mindset for Dark Athena. I then raced through Athena in roughly five hours and I’m nearing the final mission now. Wow. Talk about short and a lost opportunity. Riddick is a strong character, albeit a fairly narrow minded one, that good writers could have a field day with. I’d still love to see good writers take a shot at crafting a good story for the character because I have yet to see one. I enjoyed Butcher Bay again in large part because the concept and story were so good, but the execution is what suffers. It may have been fine at the time, but current technology combined with general improvements to games have rendered it obsolete. Dark Athena plays much the same way without adding any such improvements, the result being a lifeless, stilted title in search of a stronger narrative.
But finishing it off gets me this much closer to clearing out my backlog. That’s my overall goal this year because while there will be games I need to lay claim to in 2011, I want to finish one or two games before picking up a new one. That’s my plan anyway. We’ll see how many weeks it takes me to violate that pledge.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
An Alphabet Sampling
The other night, Max was getting his bath and he started rattling off his A-B-C’s and, for the most part, it was in order. I looked at my watch to confirm. Yup, he’s only 26 months old and already getting at least the order down. My Fair Lady argues that he actually managed to get about 18 of the letters correct and in order, but unless my schooling failed me, I don’t recall T coming before P.
Regardless, he was doing this throughout the entirety of his nightly bath routine up to and including his potty time. He was going strong too until I brought out my phone to record the audio of it. Then, naturally, he clammed up. But trust me, it was great.
Know what else is great? Holding your arms out and asking your son for a hug, and watching him give you a coy smile before turning around and walking off to play with Elmo. Max may wake up one morning to find out Elmo ran away in the middle of the night to join the circus. My response?
“Who knows what strangeness lurks in the mind of a Muppet?”
Regardless, he was doing this throughout the entirety of his nightly bath routine up to and including his potty time. He was going strong too until I brought out my phone to record the audio of it. Then, naturally, he clammed up. But trust me, it was great.
Know what else is great? Holding your arms out and asking your son for a hug, and watching him give you a coy smile before turning around and walking off to play with Elmo. Max may wake up one morning to find out Elmo ran away in the middle of the night to join the circus. My response?
“Who knows what strangeness lurks in the mind of a Muppet?”
Monday, January 31, 2011
Playing with Frogs
This week, Max discovered a new game and it’s been quite amusing. He has a little boat with a miniature Elmo and Ernie for deck hands, and he loves to play with it in the bath. It came with a small dingy (heh heh) and up until this week, that’s all it’s been.
Now it’s a breeding ground for small froggies.
He gets the boat filled with water, then reaches in to it. When he lifts his hands out, the thumbs of both hands are pressed against their respective forefingers. He then shouts, “Frogs!” or “Froggies!” and hands them to me. I cup them in my hand saying soothing things like, “Hello Froggie, how are you today?” Then I snap my head back hard, acting like the Froggie just punched the crap out of me. My hands flail about as the Froggie facilitates his escape from my clutches. Max and I shout for Froggie to come back, but by that point he’s halfway to Cabo. Sometimes I even catch the Froggie and hand it back to Max, who opens his mouth wide and acts like he eats it.
Good times, these. I love seeing his little imagination develop and even the smallest of games are ones My Fair Lady and I encourage. He’s past two now and his brain is running a mile a minute from the moment he wakes up. I don’t know when or if he’ll ever lose that energy, but if it happens it will be very far in the future. He’s going to look back on his childhood and smile if we have anything to say about it.
That is until he starts to think about the times he was sick, like this most recent instance. It’s been a brutal couple of weeks due to day care. He enjoys the heck out of it but being surrounded by viral carrier monkeys all day every day will test even the strongest of immune systems. This latest bug started as a head cold before gradually revealing its true nature as something far more insidious.
It sapped his energy, then filled his head with total congestion followed by a raging cough and a scorching fever. And for good measure it threw in a minor ear infection. In short, Little Man was nine kinds of screwed. I took him to the doctor and received word that we should try out a breathing machine on him to see if that worked. We also were given an antibiotic. Fast forward several days later and I’ve got it, because sharing is caring don’tcha know, and he wasn’t showing any sign of improvement. To make matters worse, his eyes started filling with junk to the point where they were sealed shut by morning. It’s great fun as a parent to wake up to a screaming child who physically can’t open their eyes.
We returned to the doctor who wisely prescribed an even stronger antibiotic along with some eye drops.
Two days later his fever broke and he started feeling much better. By Friday, he was running around the house playing with his Tootsie (my mother who graciously watched him all week). But the even better news was with the weather as awesome as it was this weekend, we were able to get out and enjoy it without hacking up our lungs. He enjoys running around the yard, especially with his play structure in the back. Whenever he slides down it he always says, “wheeee.” It’s not a shout or anything, more like a statement of fact which makes it even funnier and cuter when he does it. Which pretty much sums up most everything he does now.
Yup, I’m kinda glad we have him.
Now it’s a breeding ground for small froggies.
He gets the boat filled with water, then reaches in to it. When he lifts his hands out, the thumbs of both hands are pressed against their respective forefingers. He then shouts, “Frogs!” or “Froggies!” and hands them to me. I cup them in my hand saying soothing things like, “Hello Froggie, how are you today?” Then I snap my head back hard, acting like the Froggie just punched the crap out of me. My hands flail about as the Froggie facilitates his escape from my clutches. Max and I shout for Froggie to come back, but by that point he’s halfway to Cabo. Sometimes I even catch the Froggie and hand it back to Max, who opens his mouth wide and acts like he eats it.
Good times, these. I love seeing his little imagination develop and even the smallest of games are ones My Fair Lady and I encourage. He’s past two now and his brain is running a mile a minute from the moment he wakes up. I don’t know when or if he’ll ever lose that energy, but if it happens it will be very far in the future. He’s going to look back on his childhood and smile if we have anything to say about it.
That is until he starts to think about the times he was sick, like this most recent instance. It’s been a brutal couple of weeks due to day care. He enjoys the heck out of it but being surrounded by viral carrier monkeys all day every day will test even the strongest of immune systems. This latest bug started as a head cold before gradually revealing its true nature as something far more insidious.
It sapped his energy, then filled his head with total congestion followed by a raging cough and a scorching fever. And for good measure it threw in a minor ear infection. In short, Little Man was nine kinds of screwed. I took him to the doctor and received word that we should try out a breathing machine on him to see if that worked. We also were given an antibiotic. Fast forward several days later and I’ve got it, because sharing is caring don’tcha know, and he wasn’t showing any sign of improvement. To make matters worse, his eyes started filling with junk to the point where they were sealed shut by morning. It’s great fun as a parent to wake up to a screaming child who physically can’t open their eyes.
We returned to the doctor who wisely prescribed an even stronger antibiotic along with some eye drops.
Two days later his fever broke and he started feeling much better. By Friday, he was running around the house playing with his Tootsie (my mother who graciously watched him all week). But the even better news was with the weather as awesome as it was this weekend, we were able to get out and enjoy it without hacking up our lungs. He enjoys running around the yard, especially with his play structure in the back. Whenever he slides down it he always says, “wheeee.” It’s not a shout or anything, more like a statement of fact which makes it even funnier and cuter when he does it. Which pretty much sums up most everything he does now.
Yup, I’m kinda glad we have him.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
"Where are you off to?" "Work."
Recently, little Max decided he needed to go to work. So he picked up a pool floatie that conveniently came with a strap, put it over his shoulder, turned to us and said “Bye bye” then walked out the back door to the car. When he got there, he turned to me and said, “Open!” In between fits of laughter, I was able to unlock the car door and open it for him. He climbed up in the driver seat, and waved good bye to us. My Fair Lady and I could barely stop laughing at the sheer cuteness.
It appears that we’ve hit yet another turning point. Now he knows how to go to work and by God if it’s good enough for Mommy and Daddy, then it’s good enough for him! We let him play in the car for a while and it was amusing to here him scream “WORK!!!” when we rang the dinner bell an hour later.
Apparently he’s also ready to eat on the go, but that’s a skill I’ll teach him another day.
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This week saw the beginning of a new phase in our lives – Daycare. With My Fair Ladyfinally going back to work, we had a short window in which to track down a quality daycare. Fortunately, we found a strong one near our house that I can hit en route to the office. The ultimate plan is for her to work 7-4 while I do 8:30-5:30 so I can drop him off and she’ll pick him up. We did a half-ish day for his first time out since I had the day off. It went as well as could be expected when we first arrived – he burst into tears and wailed at me to come back.
I actually did have to come back an hour later for the initial parent orientation which neither of us had had time for up to that point. While there, I checked in on him and there was nary a tear to be seen. He was focused on coloring and did a bang up job at it too. When I picked him up, he was all smiles and ready to go but he did hug his teacher and another little boy on the way out the door. It was a man hug, just so we’re clear.
In the hallway I asked him if he had fun that day. He replied, “School fun.” The second day he walked right in without any tears, sat down for breakfast, and was promptly served a pop tart and an orange. No complaints from the little man, no complaints from Big Daddy.
It appears that we’ve hit yet another turning point. Now he knows how to go to work and by God if it’s good enough for Mommy and Daddy, then it’s good enough for him! We let him play in the car for a while and it was amusing to here him scream “WORK!!!” when we rang the dinner bell an hour later.
Apparently he’s also ready to eat on the go, but that’s a skill I’ll teach him another day.
-------------
This week saw the beginning of a new phase in our lives – Daycare. With My Fair Lady
I actually did have to come back an hour later for the initial parent orientation which neither of us had had time for up to that point. While there, I checked in on him and there was nary a tear to be seen. He was focused on coloring and did a bang up job at it too. When I picked him up, he was all smiles and ready to go but he did hug his teacher and another little boy on the way out the door. It was a man hug, just so we’re clear.
In the hallway I asked him if he had fun that day. He replied, “School fun.” The second day he walked right in without any tears, sat down for breakfast, and was promptly served a pop tart and an orange. No complaints from the little man, no complaints from Big Daddy.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
The Long Path to Glory
So a few weeks ago, My Fair Lady and I purchased a large wooden play structure from Costco for Max. The idea was to put it together the weekend of Halloween because of two factors: a) That’s when it was supposed to arrive; b) That’s also when Brother G would have a free weekend to swing by and help out.
Considering the magnitude of this project, I wanted (and MFL agreed) to keep this a family affair. No friends, no offshoot relatives—strictly immediate family. It meant something special to me that my brother and I (along with my wife and possibly my dad) would build a play fort for my son. The thought just warmed my heart. So we placed the order in early October, and kicked back to wait. Here’s what happened:
1) The order shipped later that same week and was delivered the following Monday, which resulted in us having 500lbs. of play equipment and wood beams sitting on a palette in our garage. As such, the garage would be rendered useless to us until we got the structure built. Not to worry though because the forecast for the coming weekend was perfect.
2) That Wednesday, I got hit with a massive sinus infection. Massive. I’ve a veteran of these, regrettably, so I know when I’m going to be good and thoroughly worked over and when I’m going to just complain for a few days before getting over it. This was the former, big time. Woke up Saturday morning and promptly threw up. A lot. While MFL was downtown at the Komen Walk For The Cure, naturally. I’d told her the night before that I’d be fine the next day and would be able to handle Max with no issues. Whoops. Called my parents whispering for help since I could barely function. I managed to hold on until my dad showed up, at which point I went back to bed until MFL showed up. No work was done this entire weekend.
3) The next week, MFL and I actually opened the boxes and investigated our purchase. To say that I’ve put together a large number of items ranging from computers to furniture to everything else is putting it gently. I was immediately grateful that despite the intimidating 40+ pages of instructions, everything was neatly organized as it should be. The parts were clearly labeled, and the nuts and bolts were efficiently categorized. May a thousand blessings fall onto the house of the people who make this product. Buy something from IKEA and follow those instructions. Go on, I dare you.
4) That following weekend saw an extensive rain delay. So I got to look my two-year-old in the eyes and say, “No play structure for you.” At which point he climbed all over the boxes and acted like he was king of the mountain before filling his diaper with pure awesome and taking a nap.
5) The next weekend, Brother G was available… which was Halloween weekend as originally planned. The details of which are below:
Question: “How many adults does it take to put together a child’s play structure?”
Answer: “As many as you can find.”
We busted out the play structure once Brother G arrived on site, and began the assembly. Were I to list the sheer volume of wood beams, planks, parts, and screws for this beast, you’d laugh and shake your head in wonder. Yes, there really were that many parts. I spent the better part of the day fondly recalling how I grew up with nothing more than a stick.
Brother G lent a hand for the majority of the day and it made all the difference. Having someone hold up the beams while I worked on assembly was time-consuming enough. Then throw in an excited two-year-old running around and playing with daddy’s power tools and you’ll begin to realize why it took three adults to put the base frame together.
Things were wobbly at first. It was not uncommon to hear some variation of “Holy crap, is the whole thing gonna lean like that?” followed shortly after by “Max put that down!” The only thing this circus was missing was a clown car.
I’m mostly kidding about this. The whole enterprise went relatively smooth. Despite the beams leaning this way and that through much of the morning, primarily because they weren’t attached to one another, we managed to get the core assembly done post haste. As we connected the beams to one another, the overall stability increased. Shocking! But the real pain came due to the hex bolts that attached the beams to one another and the wood screws for the flooring. The bolts were huge and while we lacked a hex head for my power drill, we figured out that by screwing them in by hand followed by hammering them the rest of the way through, they held steady.
The same could not be said for the wood screws, which took on the form of Nemesis before the day was out. Only one drill bit was provided which by itself wasn’t much of an issue. But when the drill could only push the screw in about a quarter of an inch into the beams/planks/etc., then we had to improvise to get them the rest of the way in. This involved me putting the drill bit into the head of the wood screw, then using a wrench to twist it all the way in. It was highly aggravating and something that slowed us down considerably.
I looked at the planks for the floor of the fort, all of which required four screws per board, and started crying in anticipation of it. I wisely opted to leave that for another day. Ditto the rock wall which had 10 planks that each required four wood screws.
It bears repeating that the manual for the structure clocks in at north of 40 pages. By the time Brother G left at 3 p.m., I think we were on step 14. It may not sound like a heck of a lot was accomplished, but that’s untrue. It isn’t a complicated project on the whole, but it is a tedious one with a lot of little parts that have to be mixed and matched in just the correct order to ensure the structure doesn’t collapse while a bunch of kiddos are jumping on top of it.
Once we had the frame up and relatively stable on the deck, Brother G and I carried it to the yard and set it down where My Fair Lady and I reasoned would be the safest place.
MFL: “It doesn’t look level.”
Yours Truly: "Of course it doesn’t. That’s because our house sits near the top of a slight hill so the southwest corner of the yard slopes at an angle more so than the rest of the yard. Duh. Why the heck would it look level there?"
But the entire back half of the yard, frankly, slopes down at an angle so we weren’t going to be much better off anywhere else. So we did what any normal person would do under these circumstances: We stood around and speculated on ways to level the thing.
“Can we elevate it with shims?”
“How about we dig a hole and put it in there?”
“Should we start over? It’s still leaning.”
I love armchair quarterbacking. LOVE. IT.
Around that time, Brother G had to make like a banana and split, thus leaving My Fair Lady and I to race the sun by ourselves. During Max’s nap, we sifted through the dozens of boards to find the floor for the fort as well as the parts for the rock wall. Apparently kiddie forts come with small rock walls these days. Again, I had a stick. Max will grow up with a rock wall and touch screen technology.
Damn you, Star Trek!!! Why couldn’t your tech have been available when I was a young ‘un?!?!
Around the time Max woke up, we hit the instructions for building and attaching the ladder. We laid it out, drilled the holes properly, and hooked it onto the structure with nary a hitch. But My Fair Lady made the excellent call to swap the location of the ladder and the slide. In the manual, the slide was on the left and the ladder on the right. She correctly pointed out that these could be flipped without any problem, and then Max would be able to use the slide without ending up in the fire pit.
This is what’s known as a good thing.
Once the slide was set up and Max was able to climb the stairs and slide back down again, all while shouting “weeeee” mind you, we looked at the ebbing sunlight and called it a day.
The next day was effectively shot due to a request for our presence at another kid’s birthday party. Lots of food and cake were consumed, but there’s no need for further details. Why? Because this picture pretty much sums it up:
The following Saturday, my dad came over bright and early. We were determined to finish this beast by the end of the day. He brought tools with him as well so we were set. Max, My Fair Lady, and Yours Truly set out to put that sucker together. Since I’d skipped a few steps (such as the rock wall boards) we opted to look at those once we’d figured out how to level the beast.
YT: Dad, what do you think?
Dad: Well, how ‘bout we use some of that slate over there and some of those brinks and level it out that way?
YT: /facepalm
One of the things none of us had tried up to that point was sitting right there – rows of thick slate that we pulled out of our firepit. So we lugged several of those over to the base, lined them up, and voila! The fort wasmostly level. Then it was on to work. But first I brought dad up to speed on what we’d accomplished thus far. He did, however, have a few questions.
Dad: So these wood screws are the real killer?
YT: Yup.
Dad: How’d you get ‘em in?
YT: Hand screwed them in with this wrench.
Dad: There’s gotta be an easier way. We’ll get to that.
Then we set out putting things up. Actually, we started pulling beams and planks and such out and getting things lined up. Dad’s drill wasn’t strong enough so he took off for a bit to go pick up a new one along with a hex head tool. While he was gone, My Fair Lady and I collected wood like good little gatherers and figured out what piece went where and what the next few steps would be.
Once Dad showed back up he pulled out the new drill, slapped in a battery, and picked up one of the wood screws. He fiddled with his drill for a second then lined it up against the wood. ZZZZZZZZZ! The screw went in all the way on the first try.
YT: What the hell did you do?
Dad: Cranked up the torque on the drill.
YT: How did you do that?
Dad: See these numbers on the drill? Just shift the arrow until it matches the torque you want.
I immediately picked up my drill and saw the arrow pointing at 1. I flew into a Hulk rage, stomping my feet in impotent fury. I’ve had this drill for three years and performed dozens of home repair/construction projects. Never once did it occur to me that torque was a factor. I naively believed that the drill simply drilled screws into objects and that it would just work. Any encountered problems would be on the part of the object being screwed (snicker). Imagine my shock that I could have saved myself a hell of a lot of time previously by twisting a dial on the drill I’ve owned FOR THREE FREAKING YEARS!!! The arrow was staring at me THE WHOLE TIME!!!
I didn’t just blow a fuse. I took out the entire grid. It was so complete that Nakatomi Tower went down again.
After I recovered and could see again, it was time to get back to work. After our discovery, slapping the boards on the rock wall and the flooring on the base of the fort took, like, 20 minutes total.
OMGHULKRAGEAGAIN!!!!!
Sorry. Better now. Once the flooring was done, we started prep work for the swing beam, better known as “that heavy sumbitch in the corner.” We dragged that out along with the legs and the assorted parts. But then, good news hit—lunchtime! We set our tools down, slapped Max in the car seat, and headed out. By this point, it was down to the three men-folk as My Fair Lady had to abscond to a wedding luncheon for Diva. She dined at The Mansion. We ate at Snuffers.
For the record, we won.
After setting Max up, we placed our order and talked while watching college football on the fore and aft TVs. Max flirted with all the waitresses (I swear this kid is going to be a player when he grows up) and we waited for our food. When it finally arrived, the three of us dug in. Dad was surprised that Max was munching away on his hot dog (which is a heck of a lot of food for a regular person, by the way) and being as content as can be. Max never wanted to get down and run around, nor did he squeal too loudly or anything of the sort. He was there to hang out and eat a hot dog with his peeps.
That’s my boy.
Once we finished lunch, we headed over to Home Depot to swap out Dad’s new drill. In short, it wouldn’t close around the head of any drill bit. Weird, I know. The torque wheel twisted just fine but the interior locking mechanism refused to budge. While Dad consulted with a guy who knew a guy, I showed Max a forklift that was in the process of moving numerous palettes around. I love the light in my son’s eyes when he watches how things work. It doesn’t matter if it’s large or small things—it thrills me that he wants to know how the world works.
The guy who knew a guy ultimately concluded that yup, the drill wasn’t working. He pulled out a second one, slapped in the freshly charged batteries from dad’s original drill, then tried the locking mechanism which worked exactly as it should. We buttoned up and headed out. On the way out the door, I saw a second guy who knew a guy examine the original drill for a moment before proceeding to repeatedly slam it on the counter. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM! Keep after it fella, that’ll make it work.
On the way home (and this is a five minute drive, by the way) Max cratered in the back. He was snoring by the time we pulled up, so I carried him inside and laid him in his crib. It’s tough work for a little man and he needed his sleep. Back to work for the menfolk!
Our next assignment was properly laying out the swing beam legs for assembly. Again, this is where torque came in handy because there were no pre-drilled holes and a lot of large hex screws that needed to go into the legs. These were thick beams, too, only slightly more so than “that heavy sumbitch in the corner.” We knocked in the holes, got everything drilled, and properly aligned the beams. Right around the time this assembly was complete, My Fair Lady returned to bear witness to our handiwork.
We set it aside for a moment before tackling the mounting on the fort itself. At that point, it was simply a matter of putting the right screws in the correct place then setting the primary beam on the fort. Once that was hook to the fort, we maneuvered the legs into position, attached them, and had a standing fort that only required a few more bells and whistles. In short, the hard part was done. To wrap things up, I quickly threw together the top portion of the fort. Once that was done (little more than a board here and there) we installed the protective canopy and called it a day.
Max came out around this point, and appraised the situation. “Wow! What’s this?” That’s his favorite line when it comes to expressing shock and amazement. He says it at the funniest times too, but more often than not it’s reserved for moments that truly grab his attention. Hearing him say that always puts a smile on my face, and that afternoon it was ear-to-ear, baby.
It was the best day I’ve had in a long time. We’re talking years. My Fair Lady and I have been through a hell of a ringer the past few years and every time it seems like we have a chance to get ahead, we’re beaten down despite our best efforts. The stress surrounding our lives since 2008 alone has been enough to give me white hairs (oh yes, they have come) but days like this make it all go away. My dad and I have a pretty strong bond despite such disparate interests in life. That’s normal to me. But it felt great to have him and Brother G help put together the fort for my son. Three generations joined together to build a play structure for the newest member of the family, and such an event is one I’ll cherish to the end of my days.
I hope when I’ve traded places with my father, that I get to help do something similar for my grandson/daughter. Thank you to my dad and brother for helping out on this. I means the world to me and will someday to little Max. In the meantime, he’s wanting to go back out and ride the slide again.
Considering the magnitude of this project, I wanted (and MFL agreed) to keep this a family affair. No friends, no offshoot relatives—strictly immediate family. It meant something special to me that my brother and I (along with my wife and possibly my dad) would build a play fort for my son. The thought just warmed my heart. So we placed the order in early October, and kicked back to wait. Here’s what happened:
1) The order shipped later that same week and was delivered the following Monday, which resulted in us having 500lbs. of play equipment and wood beams sitting on a palette in our garage. As such, the garage would be rendered useless to us until we got the structure built. Not to worry though because the forecast for the coming weekend was perfect.
2) That Wednesday, I got hit with a massive sinus infection. Massive. I’ve a veteran of these, regrettably, so I know when I’m going to be good and thoroughly worked over and when I’m going to just complain for a few days before getting over it. This was the former, big time. Woke up Saturday morning and promptly threw up. A lot. While MFL was downtown at the Komen Walk For The Cure, naturally. I’d told her the night before that I’d be fine the next day and would be able to handle Max with no issues. Whoops. Called my parents whispering for help since I could barely function. I managed to hold on until my dad showed up, at which point I went back to bed until MFL showed up. No work was done this entire weekend.
3) The next week, MFL and I actually opened the boxes and investigated our purchase. To say that I’ve put together a large number of items ranging from computers to furniture to everything else is putting it gently. I was immediately grateful that despite the intimidating 40+ pages of instructions, everything was neatly organized as it should be. The parts were clearly labeled, and the nuts and bolts were efficiently categorized. May a thousand blessings fall onto the house of the people who make this product. Buy something from IKEA and follow those instructions. Go on, I dare you.
4) That following weekend saw an extensive rain delay. So I got to look my two-year-old in the eyes and say, “No play structure for you.” At which point he climbed all over the boxes and acted like he was king of the mountain before filling his diaper with pure awesome and taking a nap.
5) The next weekend, Brother G was available… which was Halloween weekend as originally planned. The details of which are below:
Question: “How many adults does it take to put together a child’s play structure?”
Answer: “As many as you can find.”
We busted out the play structure once Brother G arrived on site, and began the assembly. Were I to list the sheer volume of wood beams, planks, parts, and screws for this beast, you’d laugh and shake your head in wonder. Yes, there really were that many parts. I spent the better part of the day fondly recalling how I grew up with nothing more than a stick.
Brother G lent a hand for the majority of the day and it made all the difference. Having someone hold up the beams while I worked on assembly was time-consuming enough. Then throw in an excited two-year-old running around and playing with daddy’s power tools and you’ll begin to realize why it took three adults to put the base frame together.
Things were wobbly at first. It was not uncommon to hear some variation of “Holy crap, is the whole thing gonna lean like that?” followed shortly after by “Max put that down!” The only thing this circus was missing was a clown car.
I’m mostly kidding about this. The whole enterprise went relatively smooth. Despite the beams leaning this way and that through much of the morning, primarily because they weren’t attached to one another, we managed to get the core assembly done post haste. As we connected the beams to one another, the overall stability increased. Shocking! But the real pain came due to the hex bolts that attached the beams to one another and the wood screws for the flooring. The bolts were huge and while we lacked a hex head for my power drill, we figured out that by screwing them in by hand followed by hammering them the rest of the way through, they held steady.
The same could not be said for the wood screws, which took on the form of Nemesis before the day was out. Only one drill bit was provided which by itself wasn’t much of an issue. But when the drill could only push the screw in about a quarter of an inch into the beams/planks/etc., then we had to improvise to get them the rest of the way in. This involved me putting the drill bit into the head of the wood screw, then using a wrench to twist it all the way in. It was highly aggravating and something that slowed us down considerably.
I looked at the planks for the floor of the fort, all of which required four screws per board, and started crying in anticipation of it. I wisely opted to leave that for another day. Ditto the rock wall which had 10 planks that each required four wood screws.
It bears repeating that the manual for the structure clocks in at north of 40 pages. By the time Brother G left at 3 p.m., I think we were on step 14. It may not sound like a heck of a lot was accomplished, but that’s untrue. It isn’t a complicated project on the whole, but it is a tedious one with a lot of little parts that have to be mixed and matched in just the correct order to ensure the structure doesn’t collapse while a bunch of kiddos are jumping on top of it.
Once we had the frame up and relatively stable on the deck, Brother G and I carried it to the yard and set it down where My Fair Lady and I reasoned would be the safest place.
MFL: “It doesn’t look level.”
Yours Truly: "Of course it doesn’t. That’s because our house sits near the top of a slight hill so the southwest corner of the yard slopes at an angle more so than the rest of the yard. Duh. Why the heck would it look level there?"
But the entire back half of the yard, frankly, slopes down at an angle so we weren’t going to be much better off anywhere else. So we did what any normal person would do under these circumstances: We stood around and speculated on ways to level the thing.
“Can we elevate it with shims?”
“How about we dig a hole and put it in there?”
“Should we start over? It’s still leaning.”
I love armchair quarterbacking. LOVE. IT.
Around that time, Brother G had to make like a banana and split, thus leaving My Fair Lady and I to race the sun by ourselves. During Max’s nap, we sifted through the dozens of boards to find the floor for the fort as well as the parts for the rock wall. Apparently kiddie forts come with small rock walls these days. Again, I had a stick. Max will grow up with a rock wall and touch screen technology.
Damn you, Star Trek!!! Why couldn’t your tech have been available when I was a young ‘un?!?!
Around the time Max woke up, we hit the instructions for building and attaching the ladder. We laid it out, drilled the holes properly, and hooked it onto the structure with nary a hitch. But My Fair Lady made the excellent call to swap the location of the ladder and the slide. In the manual, the slide was on the left and the ladder on the right. She correctly pointed out that these could be flipped without any problem, and then Max would be able to use the slide without ending up in the fire pit.
This is what’s known as a good thing.
Once the slide was set up and Max was able to climb the stairs and slide back down again, all while shouting “weeeee” mind you, we looked at the ebbing sunlight and called it a day.
The next day was effectively shot due to a request for our presence at another kid’s birthday party. Lots of food and cake were consumed, but there’s no need for further details. Why? Because this picture pretty much sums it up:
The following Saturday, my dad came over bright and early. We were determined to finish this beast by the end of the day. He brought tools with him as well so we were set. Max, My Fair Lady, and Yours Truly set out to put that sucker together. Since I’d skipped a few steps (such as the rock wall boards) we opted to look at those once we’d figured out how to level the beast.
YT: Dad, what do you think?
Dad: Well, how ‘bout we use some of that slate over there and some of those brinks and level it out that way?
YT: /facepalm
One of the things none of us had tried up to that point was sitting right there – rows of thick slate that we pulled out of our firepit. So we lugged several of those over to the base, lined them up, and voila! The fort was
Dad: So these wood screws are the real killer?
YT: Yup.
Dad: How’d you get ‘em in?
YT: Hand screwed them in with this wrench.
Dad: There’s gotta be an easier way. We’ll get to that.
Then we set out putting things up. Actually, we started pulling beams and planks and such out and getting things lined up. Dad’s drill wasn’t strong enough so he took off for a bit to go pick up a new one along with a hex head tool. While he was gone, My Fair Lady and I collected wood like good little gatherers and figured out what piece went where and what the next few steps would be.
Once Dad showed back up he pulled out the new drill, slapped in a battery, and picked up one of the wood screws. He fiddled with his drill for a second then lined it up against the wood. ZZZZZZZZZ! The screw went in all the way on the first try.
YT: What the hell did you do?
Dad: Cranked up the torque on the drill.
YT: How did you do that?
Dad: See these numbers on the drill? Just shift the arrow until it matches the torque you want.
I immediately picked up my drill and saw the arrow pointing at 1. I flew into a Hulk rage, stomping my feet in impotent fury. I’ve had this drill for three years and performed dozens of home repair/construction projects. Never once did it occur to me that torque was a factor. I naively believed that the drill simply drilled screws into objects and that it would just work. Any encountered problems would be on the part of the object being screwed (snicker). Imagine my shock that I could have saved myself a hell of a lot of time previously by twisting a dial on the drill I’ve owned FOR THREE FREAKING YEARS!!! The arrow was staring at me THE WHOLE TIME!!!
I didn’t just blow a fuse. I took out the entire grid. It was so complete that Nakatomi Tower went down again.
After I recovered and could see again, it was time to get back to work. After our discovery, slapping the boards on the rock wall and the flooring on the base of the fort took, like, 20 minutes total.
OMGHULKRAGEAGAIN!!!!!
Sorry. Better now. Once the flooring was done, we started prep work for the swing beam, better known as “that heavy sumbitch in the corner.” We dragged that out along with the legs and the assorted parts. But then, good news hit—lunchtime! We set our tools down, slapped Max in the car seat, and headed out. By this point, it was down to the three men-folk as My Fair Lady had to abscond to a wedding luncheon for Diva. She dined at The Mansion. We ate at Snuffers.
For the record, we won.
After setting Max up, we placed our order and talked while watching college football on the fore and aft TVs. Max flirted with all the waitresses (I swear this kid is going to be a player when he grows up) and we waited for our food. When it finally arrived, the three of us dug in. Dad was surprised that Max was munching away on his hot dog (which is a heck of a lot of food for a regular person, by the way) and being as content as can be. Max never wanted to get down and run around, nor did he squeal too loudly or anything of the sort. He was there to hang out and eat a hot dog with his peeps.
That’s my boy.
Once we finished lunch, we headed over to Home Depot to swap out Dad’s new drill. In short, it wouldn’t close around the head of any drill bit. Weird, I know. The torque wheel twisted just fine but the interior locking mechanism refused to budge. While Dad consulted with a guy who knew a guy, I showed Max a forklift that was in the process of moving numerous palettes around. I love the light in my son’s eyes when he watches how things work. It doesn’t matter if it’s large or small things—it thrills me that he wants to know how the world works.
The guy who knew a guy ultimately concluded that yup, the drill wasn’t working. He pulled out a second one, slapped in the freshly charged batteries from dad’s original drill, then tried the locking mechanism which worked exactly as it should. We buttoned up and headed out. On the way out the door, I saw a second guy who knew a guy examine the original drill for a moment before proceeding to repeatedly slam it on the counter. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM! Keep after it fella, that’ll make it work.
On the way home (and this is a five minute drive, by the way) Max cratered in the back. He was snoring by the time we pulled up, so I carried him inside and laid him in his crib. It’s tough work for a little man and he needed his sleep. Back to work for the menfolk!
Our next assignment was properly laying out the swing beam legs for assembly. Again, this is where torque came in handy because there were no pre-drilled holes and a lot of large hex screws that needed to go into the legs. These were thick beams, too, only slightly more so than “that heavy sumbitch in the corner.” We knocked in the holes, got everything drilled, and properly aligned the beams. Right around the time this assembly was complete, My Fair Lady returned to bear witness to our handiwork.
We set it aside for a moment before tackling the mounting on the fort itself. At that point, it was simply a matter of putting the right screws in the correct place then setting the primary beam on the fort. Once that was hook to the fort, we maneuvered the legs into position, attached them, and had a standing fort that only required a few more bells and whistles. In short, the hard part was done. To wrap things up, I quickly threw together the top portion of the fort. Once that was done (little more than a board here and there) we installed the protective canopy and called it a day.
Max came out around this point, and appraised the situation. “Wow! What’s this?” That’s his favorite line when it comes to expressing shock and amazement. He says it at the funniest times too, but more often than not it’s reserved for moments that truly grab his attention. Hearing him say that always puts a smile on my face, and that afternoon it was ear-to-ear, baby.
It was the best day I’ve had in a long time. We’re talking years. My Fair Lady and I have been through a hell of a ringer the past few years and every time it seems like we have a chance to get ahead, we’re beaten down despite our best efforts. The stress surrounding our lives since 2008 alone has been enough to give me white hairs (oh yes, they have come) but days like this make it all go away. My dad and I have a pretty strong bond despite such disparate interests in life. That’s normal to me. But it felt great to have him and Brother G help put together the fort for my son. Three generations joined together to build a play structure for the newest member of the family, and such an event is one I’ll cherish to the end of my days.
I hope when I’ve traded places with my father, that I get to help do something similar for my grandson/daughter. Thank you to my dad and brother for helping out on this. I means the world to me and will someday to little Max. In the meantime, he’s wanting to go back out and ride the slide again.
Gaming Thoughts
I freely confess to being a 30-something gamer. I sit up late at night on the weekends (not as much during the week anymore) and play video games. I love it, I write about them at Gaming Trend.com, and I would have a hard time in my life without them as an outlet for fun. But as with anything, gaming can be taken to the extreme.
The videos I recently found are a collective speed run of the PS3 game Demons Souls. The run clocks in at 54 minutes which is, frankly, insane. In the game, the player literally sprints past every enemy they can to reach a far off goal, die, and respawn back at the start. From there, they turn right and head off in a different direction to do the exact same thing. It culminates with them taking out a boss, moving on to the next level, and repeating.
Why in the hell I would watch 54 minutes of that escapes me, but, based on the comments at the site, there are people out there who get a kick from stuff like this. They are free to know themselves out. I’d heard good things about the game, but after watching the speedrun through the first level my interest dropped to zero.
I’m done with the “flip the switch” mentality which afflicted every game from the mid-90s through the early 2000’s. I’m not saying the medium has evolved to the next level, at least not entirely. Heck, I just completed “Dead Space” which can be summed up in a single word: fetch. How is that different than going to Place X to flip Switch Y?
Currently, I’m plowing through a second (technically fourth or fifth) run of “Dead Rising 2” because it’s just too much fun. Once you’ve increased your level to the point where you’re on an even playing field with the bad guys, then the fun factor skyrockets. It’s unfortunate that said playing field is only marginally level once you hit the mid to high 20s (out of a possible 50 experience levels), but no one ever said the learning curve wasn’t steep.
The catch is I’d never try a speedrun of this, let alone film it, let alone film it then post it to the internet as a means by which I can be judged as awesome. In a nice little twist, I’m writing this and posting it on an internet blog which no one reads because I only update it once every blue halfmoon.
Speaking of Dead Rising 2, I can’t recommend it enough. Fans of horror and zombie horror games in particular will get a huge gas out of it, despite the ridiculously steep learning curve. For example, a critical dodge move (which can and will save your life more than once) isn’t unlocked until players hit level 18. You can read my GT review here.
I will continue though by saying its way more fun the higher your level. Your character Chuck is stronger, more agile, quicker, can carry more stuff, and is capable of taking more damage from the zillions of zombies and psychopaths. But being able to rescue every survivor and kill every psycho while ensuring your little daughters’ safety feels… great. It feels awesome to be able to play savior in a zombie apocalypse without the silly photography mechanics from the first game. Even though the story remains idiotic (this is Capcom we’re talking about), it is 19 different kinds of fun. Duct taping a sledgehammer to a fire ax results in a ton of zombie killing fury.
While this is sucking up my nights, Just Cause 2 just sits there staring at me. I have so many settlements left to free from a dictator I already killed. Wait. Why should I play this any more? Because the game can be summed up by this phrase: I bet I can base jump off that.
Usually this equates to me high-jacking a car, driving into town, blowing stuff up, being pursued by military police until a helicopter shows up which I then high-jack and use to get to the top of a building that I proceed to base jump off of. In short, this is also one of my games of the year for the sheer amount of fun.
If you haven’t played either game, get thee hence to the store and pick them up. Hours upon hours of fun await.
The videos I recently found are a collective speed run of the PS3 game Demons Souls. The run clocks in at 54 minutes which is, frankly, insane. In the game, the player literally sprints past every enemy they can to reach a far off goal, die, and respawn back at the start. From there, they turn right and head off in a different direction to do the exact same thing. It culminates with them taking out a boss, moving on to the next level, and repeating.
Why in the hell I would watch 54 minutes of that escapes me, but, based on the comments at the site, there are people out there who get a kick from stuff like this. They are free to know themselves out. I’d heard good things about the game, but after watching the speedrun through the first level my interest dropped to zero.
I’m done with the “flip the switch” mentality which afflicted every game from the mid-90s through the early 2000’s. I’m not saying the medium has evolved to the next level, at least not entirely. Heck, I just completed “Dead Space” which can be summed up in a single word: fetch. How is that different than going to Place X to flip Switch Y?
Currently, I’m plowing through a second (technically fourth or fifth) run of “Dead Rising 2” because it’s just too much fun. Once you’ve increased your level to the point where you’re on an even playing field with the bad guys, then the fun factor skyrockets. It’s unfortunate that said playing field is only marginally level once you hit the mid to high 20s (out of a possible 50 experience levels), but no one ever said the learning curve wasn’t steep.
The catch is I’d never try a speedrun of this, let alone film it, let alone film it then post it to the internet as a means by which I can be judged as awesome. In a nice little twist, I’m writing this and posting it on an internet blog which no one reads because I only update it once every blue halfmoon.
Speaking of Dead Rising 2, I can’t recommend it enough. Fans of horror and zombie horror games in particular will get a huge gas out of it, despite the ridiculously steep learning curve. For example, a critical dodge move (which can and will save your life more than once) isn’t unlocked until players hit level 18. You can read my GT review here.
I will continue though by saying its way more fun the higher your level. Your character Chuck is stronger, more agile, quicker, can carry more stuff, and is capable of taking more damage from the zillions of zombies and psychopaths. But being able to rescue every survivor and kill every psycho while ensuring your little daughters’ safety feels… great. It feels awesome to be able to play savior in a zombie apocalypse without the silly photography mechanics from the first game. Even though the story remains idiotic (this is Capcom we’re talking about), it is 19 different kinds of fun. Duct taping a sledgehammer to a fire ax results in a ton of zombie killing fury.
While this is sucking up my nights, Just Cause 2 just sits there staring at me. I have so many settlements left to free from a dictator I already killed. Wait. Why should I play this any more? Because the game can be summed up by this phrase: I bet I can base jump off that.
Usually this equates to me high-jacking a car, driving into town, blowing stuff up, being pursued by military police until a helicopter shows up which I then high-jack and use to get to the top of a building that I proceed to base jump off of. In short, this is also one of my games of the year for the sheer amount of fun.
If you haven’t played either game, get thee hence to the store and pick them up. Hours upon hours of fun await.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Associations
NOTE: The following was written about a month ago, so set your clocks back and it'll be accurate timing wise.
Max has been picking up a number of associations lately which impresses the hell out of me. I don’t recall what age my parents said I spoke this clearly, but I’m certain that he’s more adept at it than I was. As we left the other morning for my parents’ house, he watched me lock the front door and said, “Keys… lock.” We walked out to the car and heard an airplane flying over. He looked up and said, “plane… look.” He also pointed to the street and said, “Mommy… work.”
Most of his friends aren’t this advanced, and I’m certain it’s because we don’t raise him via television. We play with him, we talk to him, compliment him when he gets things correct, and continuously interact with him. I’m not saying the other parents don’t do the same, but my observations lead me to believe that we do it more than they do.
In short, he’s a gem but we worked hard to mold him into one. Let it never be said that parenting was easy because it most certainly is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
###
We’re gearing up this weekend to put a play structure together for Max. The story on how this goes will constitute its own post as some point in the near future depending on how successful we are. Thus far, we received it two weeks ago, it’s been sitting on a palette in our garage since then, and we haven’t had time for one reason or another to get to it until now. Add to that our actions this past weekend to shrink our fire pit and this could prove interesting.
As our budget is severely constrained at the moment, this will be the last large scale project for 2010. That’s not to say there won’t be more starting next year, but once this is completed we’re out for the remainder. Outside of the normal holidays, the next big event is Diva’s wedding in December. Following that is staying here for Christmas this year—something we’re immensely looking forward to. After the nightmare that was Christmas 2009, anything would be an improvement.
But the thought of waking up in our own house on Christmas morning and watching Max open his presents makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. I’m going to hold onto that feeling this weekend as I’m hammering and nailing the crap out of his play structure, and continue to tell myself that it’s all part of being a parent.
Max has been picking up a number of associations lately which impresses the hell out of me. I don’t recall what age my parents said I spoke this clearly, but I’m certain that he’s more adept at it than I was. As we left the other morning for my parents’ house, he watched me lock the front door and said, “Keys… lock.” We walked out to the car and heard an airplane flying over. He looked up and said, “plane… look.” He also pointed to the street and said, “Mommy… work.”
Most of his friends aren’t this advanced, and I’m certain it’s because we don’t raise him via television. We play with him, we talk to him, compliment him when he gets things correct, and continuously interact with him. I’m not saying the other parents don’t do the same, but my observations lead me to believe that we do it more than they do.
In short, he’s a gem but we worked hard to mold him into one. Let it never be said that parenting was easy because it most certainly is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
###
We’re gearing up this weekend to put a play structure together for Max. The story on how this goes will constitute its own post as some point in the near future depending on how successful we are. Thus far, we received it two weeks ago, it’s been sitting on a palette in our garage since then, and we haven’t had time for one reason or another to get to it until now. Add to that our actions this past weekend to shrink our fire pit and this could prove interesting.
As our budget is severely constrained at the moment, this will be the last large scale project for 2010. That’s not to say there won’t be more starting next year, but once this is completed we’re out for the remainder. Outside of the normal holidays, the next big event is Diva’s wedding in December. Following that is staying here for Christmas this year—something we’re immensely looking forward to. After the nightmare that was Christmas 2009, anything would be an improvement.
But the thought of waking up in our own house on Christmas morning and watching Max open his presents makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. I’m going to hold onto that feeling this weekend as I’m hammering and nailing the crap out of his play structure, and continue to tell myself that it’s all part of being a parent.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
I Wish We Had 22 Just Like Him
Every Thursday, Max goes to our church for school. It’s less “school as education” and more “school as Mom gets the kid out of the house for six hours once a week,” but he genuinely enjoys it. Apparently, the two teachers love having him there as was made crystal clear in our first parent-teacher conference (call). I was going to be at work during the call, but My Fair Lady wanted my help in developing a list of queries regarding his performance.
I’m in marketing. I deal with the esoteric enough at work. I don’t need any more of it in my home life if I can help it.
So My Fair Lady gets on the conference call and the tone was set right from the start by the teacher.
The teacher explained that he’s very well behaved, he listens, minds them both, talks a lot but not too much, and plays well with others. At which point, she switched tracks and went on a lengthy screed about what the other kids do that piss her off.
The teacher then went on another tangent, the gist of which was that it all comes down to the parents and why don’t they take responsibility for this or that and how lax discipline at home results in a nightmare for teachers at school.
This is true. It drives us crazy when parents allow their kids to run wild at restaurants, or sit in the middle of the floor while the parents blissfully drink wine and talk as though they’re back in college with their buddies. If that’s how you’re going to treat your kids, then you’re better off getting a dog.
Has it been a beating getting to this point? Absolutely. There were days when neither of us knew if we’d get through it. Max is still in that “Terrible Two” phase where he’ll throw tantrums if he doesn’t get his way. But you want to know what’s nice? We’ve managed to train him enough so that is never seen out in public.
If he doesn’t get his way in a store, then that’s too bad. He accepts it and moves on. He’ll go nuts in the house when it’s just the three of us, but that’s fine. He knows we love him and that he can absolutely push his boundaries as much as he wants because regardless of whether or not we break out the Taser and shock collar, we’ll merrily read him three books every night before he goes to bed.
We love him dearly, but there are limits. We’re flexible on things and have reached a nice compromise with him. For example, instead of simply telling him that every drawer in the kitchen is off limits, we tell him that all but two drawers are not “Max Drawers.”
Those other drawers are filled with tuperware which he loves getting into a throwing all over the floor. It’s a pain to clean up, but I’d rather him do that than reach into the knife drawer and start throwing those. Apparently the cumulative effect is a dream child at school.
It’s so nice to have a great report. Once he gets to high school, I’m going to dig up this old post and compare it against his current status. We’ll see if the two mesh, or if Yours Truly is going to want a do-over.
Me: “Do you really think all that is necessary? Can’t you just ask how he’s doing and let her talk?”So we came up with a list that included the above along with a few other questions. To be fair, I managed to get through it with a straight face. But referring to children in tones similar to Best Buy employees hocking flatscreens unnerves me. I want to make sure that Max is having fun and not stabbing the other kids with sharp objects. I’m less anxious to ensure he’s tracking along a pre-defined matrix for societal norms.
MFL: “No! We have to go over his specific performance indicators to ensure he’s appropriately tracking for his age.”
*pause
Me: “What the hell does that even mean? Is he a car? Does this mean if he gets unruly we can trade him in for a newer model before he hits 13?”
*ignoring me
MFL: “Things like, is he passive? How does he respond if the other kids take his toys away from him? How well does he eat?”
I’m in marketing. I deal with the esoteric enough at work. I don’t need any more of it in my home life if I can help it.
So My Fair Lady gets on the conference call and the tone was set right from the start by the teacher.
Teacher: “I don’t even know why we’re having this call. Max is perfect. I wish we had 22 just like him.”Our son, for the record. Not yours.
The teacher explained that he’s very well behaved, he listens, minds them both, talks a lot but not too much, and plays well with others. At which point, she switched tracks and went on a lengthy screed about what the other kids do that piss her off.
“Max is the only one who sits there at the table and eats his lunch. The. Only. One. All the rest take their food and walk around. They’re making a mess of the new carpet! It’s a nightmare trying to corral everyone. And Max just sits there eating. He watches everyone walk around but doesn’t try to get down with the rest of them. And naptime? Oh my God! The others run around and we have to coax them into laying down. Max? We say nap time and he goes and lies down on his mat, grabs his blankie, and is all ready to go.”Game. Set. Match. My Fair Lady and Yours Truly are officially better parents than 44 other people. I may not be a raging success in a whole host of areas, but in the one instance that directly affects the future I’ve scored perfect marks. Booyah.
The teacher then went on another tangent, the gist of which was that it all comes down to the parents and why don’t they take responsibility for this or that and how lax discipline at home results in a nightmare for teachers at school.
This is true. It drives us crazy when parents allow their kids to run wild at restaurants, or sit in the middle of the floor while the parents blissfully drink wine and talk as though they’re back in college with their buddies. If that’s how you’re going to treat your kids, then you’re better off getting a dog.
Has it been a beating getting to this point? Absolutely. There were days when neither of us knew if we’d get through it. Max is still in that “Terrible Two” phase where he’ll throw tantrums if he doesn’t get his way. But you want to know what’s nice? We’ve managed to train him enough so that is never seen out in public.
If he doesn’t get his way in a store, then that’s too bad. He accepts it and moves on. He’ll go nuts in the house when it’s just the three of us, but that’s fine. He knows we love him and that he can absolutely push his boundaries as much as he wants because regardless of whether or not we break out the Taser and shock collar, we’ll merrily read him three books every night before he goes to bed.
We love him dearly, but there are limits. We’re flexible on things and have reached a nice compromise with him. For example, instead of simply telling him that every drawer in the kitchen is off limits, we tell him that all but two drawers are not “Max Drawers.”
Those other drawers are filled with tuperware which he loves getting into a throwing all over the floor. It’s a pain to clean up, but I’d rather him do that than reach into the knife drawer and start throwing those. Apparently the cumulative effect is a dream child at school.
It’s so nice to have a great report. Once he gets to high school, I’m going to dig up this old post and compare it against his current status. We’ll see if the two mesh, or if Yours Truly is going to want a do-over.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Now Playing: Red Dead Redemption
I get a lot of flack on Gaming Trend because I don’t bow before the alter of Rockstar. Here’s why—I believe they create great worlds that are fluid and alive, but absolutely do the bare minimum of quality assurance. I believe they know how to tell a basic story but have no talent for heightening dramatic tension. I believe they create unique characters and hire the perfect voice actors for them, but then let them ramble on long past the point of no return.Yet their games routinely score in the mid to high 90’s or higher. I find myself baffled by the reviews because I play the same games as everyone else but clearly don’t believe that a game should automatically start at 90 just because it is an open world where you can go anywhere and do anything. I’m literally left feeling like the last sane man on the planet screaming at the birds over head because no one else will listen.
So here I am, screaming at the vastness of the Internet via my blog in a sort of narcissistic rage. So let’s get on with it,
Red Dead Redemption is an open world game set in the Wild West. Rockstar does score major points right off the bat by setting it in the early 1900s. The Model T has been invented, telegraph lines are everywhere, and civilization is encroaching on what’s left of the untamed frontier. John Marsten, a former outlaw, is forced by the U.S. government (the precursor to the FBI) to hunt down and eliminate the surviving members of his former gang. An unspoken question that hangs over everything is this: Will Marsten be allowed to roam free after all is said and done?
It’s a great setup, but one that immediately goes south. The villains are seldom seen, despite being talked about almost non-stop, and as such their threat is diminished right from the start. Even the head bad guy, Bill, barely registers when he finally shows up. The game instead keeps the focus on Marsten and his interactions with everyone across the plains. So right off the bat, the only driving force is the need for Marsten to expound at great length on virtually everything. And no, you can’t skip the conversations that happen while en route to a goal.
I’m from the school of thought of show don’t tell. Call it the film geek side of me, but that’s what happens in the best of films. They make do with a limited amount of exposition then show you the rest. The best video games deal with a limited amount of exposition then let you experience the rest. They don’t rattle on and on endlessly before giving you a short gun fight or a wagon race.
I referred on the GT forums to this game as a self-indulgent bullshit fest because that’s exactly what it is—a game so chockablock with words that you could choke Shakespeare on the script. I appreciate good writing, and there are several lines that soar, but writing that doesn’t know when to shut the hell up and get out of the way of the action is wasted effort.
Now, that being said, I genuinely like the world Rockstar created. I’m a huge fan of Westerns, and to say they nailed the exact look and feel of the Old West is doing a disservice. They managed to get the accuracy down to the dirt, the tumbleweeds, and the types of trees. Exploring this vast, untamed land is so much fun its ridiculous. You have a massive world to explore, and while there isn’t a whole lot going on out on the prairie, you can still find things to do. Collect plants, hunt down escaped bounties, and more. It’s all right at your fingertips and it is genuinely wonderful.
But then you want to move the plot forward, or encounter subplots, and another Rockstar-ism kicks in—the fact that everyone in the world around you is absolutely insane. I’ve yet to play a Rockstar game where there was a sane, or at least not deeply flawed, tertiary character whom you interact with. For example, one of the first subplots involves people going missing in the hills. When you finally track down the villain responsible, the guy turns out to be a cannibal.
Really? That’s the best you got, Rockstar? It couldn’t be a group of rogue Comanche or Confederates forcibly recruiting for Civil War 2? It has to be a damn cannibal? Or how about the guy who wants flowers for his wife? You know, the skeleton in the chair?
And so on.
You see what I mean? When you can do things all by yourself, the game is great. But the second you do a story or side mission-related adventure, the game goes to hell due to the sheer stupidity of what you’re experiencing. It’s a long game if you do absolutely everything (and as of this writing I’m at 98.5% complete and am going for the 100% completion achievement for no reason other than I made it this far so why not hit it big?) but the story isn’t worth the effort. Playing in the game world IS worth your effort though, so I found myself in a bit of a pickle.
I lambaste the game because so much is worthy of scorn, but the world itself is so brilliantly executed that there is a ton of fun to be had despite the flaws, bugs, glitches, and general nitpicks. I’m all in favor of chasing down wild animals, but do I need a cougar leaping out of nowhere to kill me? Nope. How about discovering buried treasure only to not be able to open the chest because I haven’t found the map in the previous chest leading me to the one I was standing over?
And so on.
Unless Rockstar makes another Western, I’m done with them. I swore off them with GTAIV, but then they hit me in the sweet spot with a Western. Never again. Until the next Western.
But I’m still puzzled by the accolades. Their games are worth noting in the mid to low 80s at best. I guess since I’m not a fan of KoolAid, I’ll remain in the dark.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Now Playing: From Paris With Love
There is absolutely no reason in the world why you won’t fall head over heels in love with the ludicrous nature of “From Paris With Love.” It’s loud, obnoxious, ridiculous, offensive, sexist, and it wears all that as a badge of honor. Hell, it wears all that as a bandoleer strung across the chest of a man who’ll beat you to death before grabbing a burger and fries. I laughed start to finish at what can only be described as sheer lunacy.The film kicks off with a clerk at the U.S. embassy in Paris (Jonathan Rhys-Myers doing a genuinely horrible American accent) performing routine surveillance duties for his boss and for some unknown superior on the phone. He lives happily with his drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend in a nifty little apartment, and all is well. Yet he yearns for a more action-packed lifestyle. As though living in Paris with a brunette as hot as his girlfriend isn’t enough.
Such are the silly travails of action stars.
His world is flipped upside down when he’s called in the middle of the night and told to pick up his new partner, Charlie Waxler, at the airport. Wax, as he’s called, has been detained by customs which presents a problem for the Powers That Be. We then meet Wax, played with full-throttle gusto by John Travolta. Channeling his over-the-top terrorist from Face/Off, Travolta hurls expletives almost as fast as he shoots bad guys. But who are the villains, you ask? I honestly couldn’t tell you.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen a film that asks you to accept on blind faith that everyone the lead actor shoots/blows up/otherwise annihilates is a de facto enemy of the state. Initially, he’s in Paris for an acceptable reason, but that reason quickly begins to change in roughly five minute intervals. By the mid-point, I couldn’t care less what the villains did to deserve Wax’s wrath. I gave myself over to the gleeful energy of the bloodbath because of the wanton abandon. There are only two sides in “From Paris With Love,” Wax’s side and everyone else.
The film rests on the rapport between Rhys-Myers and Travolta and to their credit they both shine. Travolta has performed this role for over a decade so he’s got it down to a science. He takes crazy to a whole different level here, though, and what kept me laughing is how fast Wax adapts to every environment. I laughed the hardest at his response to the man who offers him tea, but equally funny is Rhys-Meyers spending 30 minutes holding a vase filled with cocaine. The two leads have completely unique energies as performers and they genuinely connect here.
This film also manages a neat trick though with the twist you know is coming right from the start. Every film like this has one, but the way they introduce it is a shocker. It would have been nice to have a stronger conclusion, but I’ll run with the coda the film makers gave us. It doesn’t wrap everything up in a tidy bow, but that’s sort of the point. Just kick back and hang on for a wild, hilarious, blood-soaked and highly profane ride.
“From Paris With Love” is 90 minutes of gleeful stupidity and I highly recommend it.
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