So, gamers across the country and around the world lined up to purchase Halo 3 at various midnight openings. I wasn't one of them. I didn't see any reason to spend hours waiting in the cold to pick up a game I won't even be able to play until this weekend. Instead, I grabbed it this afternoon. Still too early, but what the hell, I've got no willpower. I picked up the Legendary Edition, and have it sitting on my table.
So far, I can honestly say "It's shiny." The helmet is bigger than I expected. Not big enough to wear, of course, but rather sizable. Master Chief's helmet just sits there, silently taunting me. Suggesting "you don't need to meet your friends tonight. Stay here. Kill aliens. It'll be fun. No one has to know."
I will endeavor to show some restraint and willpower. I will not give into the geeky temptation. I shall overcome. Though it occurs to me that Metroid's Samus Aran and Master Chief would have some badass genetially engineered supersoldier babies. There's almost certainly some poorly written fanficiton about that.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Etymology and other big words
This quarter, I'm taking a journalism class focusing on mass media. Today was the first day, and we discussed what exactly "mass media" was. What struck me was that the word "media" has nearly lost its singular form of "medium." In fact, I'm sure a significant portion of the population doesn't realize that "media" is a plural noun. These same people probably assume that the plural of "medium" is "mediums." I don't blame them, and I don't shudder nearly as much over this as I do with other acts of ignorance and outright stupidity.
The word has evolved to the point that it almost exclusively refers to news outlets, and, specifically, those individuals who work within. Whenever someone mentions the media, one of two images come to mind. The first is the romanticized image of the newspaper reporter. Think Clark Kent in a fedora with a "press" tag poking out from the band. The second image is the anything-for-a-buck caricature of the tabloid photographer. I don't think of a newspaper, a magazine, or a news anchor. I certainly don't think of books, paintings, or film. At least not immediately.
Maybe it's time to take it back.
The word has evolved to the point that it almost exclusively refers to news outlets, and, specifically, those individuals who work within. Whenever someone mentions the media, one of two images come to mind. The first is the romanticized image of the newspaper reporter. Think Clark Kent in a fedora with a "press" tag poking out from the band. The second image is the anything-for-a-buck caricature of the tabloid photographer. I don't think of a newspaper, a magazine, or a news anchor. I certainly don't think of books, paintings, or film. At least not immediately.
Maybe it's time to take it back.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Seth Green is king
Seems everyone and their dog has seen the video of the Brittney Spears fan having an emotional meltdown. Last night I stumbled upon this little gem:
Here's a link in case the embed doesn't work. Oh, and there is some adult language, so think of the children. Won't somebody please think of the children?
Here's a link in case the embed doesn't work. Oh, and there is some adult language, so think of the children. Won't somebody please think of the children?
A change for the better
This time tomorrow, I'm sure I will be considering dropping out of college. Again.
Wednesday morning at 8:30, I will be back in school for the first time in over ten years. Can this old dog learn new tricks? It is a bit disconcerting to realize I will be sharing a classroom with people barely half my age. Seems the thing to do, though.
Since my older brother announced his wedding this spring, I've found myself taking stock of my own life. I didn't like the prospects of a retail manager, so I quit my job. I didn't like my prospects for alternate employment, so I'm back in school. I wasn't happy with my social life, so I've been more open and forthcoming, especially with women. Nothing's come of that last one, yet, but you've got to play if you want a chance to win, yes?
People who know me understand that I can be a misanthropic bastard. I realize, now, that I have absolutely no grounds to bitch if I am one of the underachieving, directionless morons who annoy me so. With that in mind, I bravely return to the world of higher education.
Wednesday morning at 8:30, I will be back in school for the first time in over ten years. Can this old dog learn new tricks? It is a bit disconcerting to realize I will be sharing a classroom with people barely half my age. Seems the thing to do, though.
Since my older brother announced his wedding this spring, I've found myself taking stock of my own life. I didn't like the prospects of a retail manager, so I quit my job. I didn't like my prospects for alternate employment, so I'm back in school. I wasn't happy with my social life, so I've been more open and forthcoming, especially with women. Nothing's come of that last one, yet, but you've got to play if you want a chance to win, yes?
People who know me understand that I can be a misanthropic bastard. I realize, now, that I have absolutely no grounds to bitch if I am one of the underachieving, directionless morons who annoy me so. With that in mind, I bravely return to the world of higher education.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
A pox upon New Zealand
Thanks to a recent episode of "Californication," I have become all too aware of a contributing agent to the decline of civilization.
Why have people started "speaking" abbreviations? I've recently come to understand that they are calling this "txt speak," a term that makes me cringe just typing it. "They," of course, are people who claim to have the intellectual authority to label such idiocy. Honestly, I think just about anything that has its origins in this fetid waste pit we call the internet must be viewed with extreme skepticism when it comes to its cultural value. I am conveniently ignoring the fact that I rant about this in my "blog."
This phenomenon is particularly baffling, and anyone who practices it should be struck with a heavy rock upside the head. I will concede that internet shorthand is great for active conversations through text messaging on cell phones, and here on the internet, at least in chat rooms or other rapid fire text-based conversations. It has no place in anything resembling a formal or official writing. I'm looking disapprovingly at you, New Zealand. Continuing, this practice has absolutely no place in verbal communication. None.
Who would possibly think it's preferable to say "L-O-L" rather than just laugh out loud? What's next? Will they say "Colon, closed parentheses" instead of actually smiling? It is especially jarring to actually hear this mental sewage come from the mouth of someone who should know better. What the hell is a 45-year old woman doing saying things like "OMG" and "BRB?" Are actual coherent thoughts so damnably difficult to verbally express in an intelligent manner?
Why have people started "speaking" abbreviations? I've recently come to understand that they are calling this "txt speak," a term that makes me cringe just typing it. "They," of course, are people who claim to have the intellectual authority to label such idiocy. Honestly, I think just about anything that has its origins in this fetid waste pit we call the internet must be viewed with extreme skepticism when it comes to its cultural value. I am conveniently ignoring the fact that I rant about this in my "blog."
This phenomenon is particularly baffling, and anyone who practices it should be struck with a heavy rock upside the head. I will concede that internet shorthand is great for active conversations through text messaging on cell phones, and here on the internet, at least in chat rooms or other rapid fire text-based conversations. It has no place in anything resembling a formal or official writing. I'm looking disapprovingly at you, New Zealand. Continuing, this practice has absolutely no place in verbal communication. None.
Who would possibly think it's preferable to say "L-O-L" rather than just laugh out loud? What's next? Will they say "Colon, closed parentheses" instead of actually smiling? It is especially jarring to actually hear this mental sewage come from the mouth of someone who should know better. What the hell is a 45-year old woman doing saying things like "OMG" and "BRB?" Are actual coherent thoughts so damnably difficult to verbally express in an intelligent manner?
Various portions of my head are failing me.
So, I think I'm going mad. Either that, or falling apart, somehow.
This morning I wake up to the sound of the cat scratching on my bedroom door. She's the kind of cat who want to be where she's not allowed. She'll annoy the hell out of me until I relent and allow her in. The alternative is that I get fed up with the noise and stomp after her like some cranky, boxers-wearing Frankenstein's Monster. They're annoying that way, sometimes, cats. Anyhow, back on track. I'm about to chase the cat away when I realize the scratching is coming from my closet. I haven't opened that closet in about a week, so this is somewhat odd. My thought is "great, I have mice, or rats, or pygmies, or Mormons," or something equally distasteful. I open the closet door, and there's nothing there. Of course. Whatever. Back to bed.
Hearing: Suspect
This afternoon, I'm driving to meet friends. The car stereo is turned off, and for some reason I try to recall the intro to "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones. Instead, my wonderful little mind brings up "Touch Me" by The Doors. Why? They don't seem similar to me. Perhaps it's somewhat Freudian. I recently used the first verse of "Devil" as something of an introductory pick-up line. Whatever. Time to meet friends.
Memory: Suspect
Libido: Misbehaving
Tonight, after spending time with the aforementioned friends, I'm driving home. No musical memories on the return trip, though. This time, I'm on the freeway when I see a flash of blue lights behind me. Curious. I'm not speeding. 58 in a 60 with a slow speedometer seems OK no matter which way I look at it. My lights are all functioning properly, and my tabs are current. I pull over. Nothing. Not just no cops, but no other cars. Period. Not for a good 300 feet behind me. Whatever. It's time to go home.
Eyesight: Suspect
I'm afraid to speak now, for fear that I may sound like Donald Duck on helium for no apparent reason. Sure, it'd be amusing, but what purpose would it serve.
Voice: Untested
This morning I wake up to the sound of the cat scratching on my bedroom door. She's the kind of cat who want to be where she's not allowed. She'll annoy the hell out of me until I relent and allow her in. The alternative is that I get fed up with the noise and stomp after her like some cranky, boxers-wearing Frankenstein's Monster. They're annoying that way, sometimes, cats. Anyhow, back on track. I'm about to chase the cat away when I realize the scratching is coming from my closet. I haven't opened that closet in about a week, so this is somewhat odd. My thought is "great, I have mice, or rats, or pygmies, or Mormons," or something equally distasteful. I open the closet door, and there's nothing there. Of course. Whatever. Back to bed.
Hearing: Suspect
This afternoon, I'm driving to meet friends. The car stereo is turned off, and for some reason I try to recall the intro to "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones. Instead, my wonderful little mind brings up "Touch Me" by The Doors. Why? They don't seem similar to me. Perhaps it's somewhat Freudian. I recently used the first verse of "Devil" as something of an introductory pick-up line. Whatever. Time to meet friends.
Memory: Suspect
Libido: Misbehaving
Tonight, after spending time with the aforementioned friends, I'm driving home. No musical memories on the return trip, though. This time, I'm on the freeway when I see a flash of blue lights behind me. Curious. I'm not speeding. 58 in a 60 with a slow speedometer seems OK no matter which way I look at it. My lights are all functioning properly, and my tabs are current. I pull over. Nothing. Not just no cops, but no other cars. Period. Not for a good 300 feet behind me. Whatever. It's time to go home.
Eyesight: Suspect
I'm afraid to speak now, for fear that I may sound like Donald Duck on helium for no apparent reason. Sure, it'd be amusing, but what purpose would it serve.
Voice: Untested
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Bioshock (XB360)
So a couple of weeks ago, Bioshock was released for XBox 360 and PC. This is my attempt at a spoiler-free take on the XB360 version, since that's the one I bought.
Story: (first 20 minutes, approx.) It's 1960. You start out as the apparent sole survivor of a mid-ocean plane crash. Struggling to keep afloat in the sea, you notice metal spires nearby. You swim to them, enter a pod called a bathysphere (holy crap, that's a real thing?) and descend into a decaying sub-aquatic city called Rapture. Created by a man named Andrew Ryan, Rapture was intended a refuge for persecuted artists, scientists, doctors, and other creative types. Very quickly it becomes apparent that Rapture is anything but idyllic. You are greeted by a blade-wielding psycho called a Splicer. You are unarmed, but assisted by a man called Atlas in herding the Splicer into a security trap.
From there you find a vending machine with a syringe in it. Inexplicably, and without prompting you jab the needle into your arm, and are endowed with magical-ish powers called plasmids. You pass out, and wake up when a giant robot-thing, a Big Daddy, stomps on by with a creepy little girl, a Little Sister, in tow. Seems the Little Sister wants to collect "angels" from the dead. She seems disappointed to find you aren't dead, then goes about her creepy little business.
Once you recover, it's off to kill, explore, and that sort of video game stuff. You are guided by Atlas from checkpoint to checkpoint. He want you to help him save his family, and I think your motivation starts as finding out what the hell is going on. Soon it becomes apparent that the Splicers are the main reason rapture has gone to hell, while the Big Daddies and Little Sisters, while creepy and misguided, are largely neutral.
Graphics: Simply beautiful. Numerous times I walked into a new room and just spent two or three minutes just looking at the room. It was pretty. It was very pretty. HD video is essential for this. Standard Definition was OK, but with HD there were colors and details I didn't even know were there, initially. Most of the rooms were not well lit, so I'd imagine countless details went unnoticed.
Sound: Great atmospheric sound. Water drops can be heard almost everywhere. The Splicers talk to each other when they don't know you're there, and taunt you once you're discovered. Early on, the Sounds the Big Daddy make is close to terrifying.
Gameplay: Solid. The enemy AI was adequate to make you think before diving into combat. Combat with groups provided some challenges. Early combat with a Big Daddy was borderline epic. Learning to use traps and the city's own security system to your advantage created a good sense of accomplishment when pulled off correctly.
Nitpicks: Most of this falls into suspension of disbelief, but it was a problem for me.
The hacking system was odd. It was a variation of the old game Pipe Dream. Also, there is no explanation of the enemy-recognition system for the security system. How does the machine gun know I'm hostile? What changes once I hack it? It was also strange that most of my power was obtained from vending machines.
As great as the sound was, it wasn't as directional as I'd like. Maybe I need a better surround sound system, but distance and direction of sound are important in a game that features a creepy atmosphere. Also, more dialogue for the Splicers would have been great. Developers, you may have 8-10 things for a character to say, but remember that I'm probably going to encounter a couple hundred of these guys, each saying two or three lines each before I drop them.
I mentioned earlier that most of the rooms were very dark. As much detail as the artists put into the environment, a simple flashlight would have been great so I could look at said detail.
In the vein of missing items, an inventory system would have been nice. Even one inventory slot to hold a bag of chips or the like would have been good.
All of that was minor, though. Easilly dismissed for how great the game was.
Big Problems: Death. There is absolutely no consequence for dying. Revival chambers are plentiful in the game. Seems you run over one each time you open a door. When you die, you are transported to the nearest chamber, revived at half health, full mana, and a short distance from where you fell. The only consequence of death was a few seconds lost in traveling back to your damaged enemy.
Choice. The game is supposed to be a bout your choices and the consequences of your actions. However, like every game that purports to be about choice, it comes down to two things. Are you an saint, or are you a bastard? There is absolutely no middle ground. Once you take a single step down the "evil" path, you're on it for good.
On the whole, it's a great game. Definitely wort a pick up.
Final verdict: Buy
Holy crap, that was longer than I thought it would be.
Story: (first 20 minutes, approx.) It's 1960. You start out as the apparent sole survivor of a mid-ocean plane crash. Struggling to keep afloat in the sea, you notice metal spires nearby. You swim to them, enter a pod called a bathysphere (holy crap, that's a real thing?) and descend into a decaying sub-aquatic city called Rapture. Created by a man named Andrew Ryan, Rapture was intended a refuge for persecuted artists, scientists, doctors, and other creative types. Very quickly it becomes apparent that Rapture is anything but idyllic. You are greeted by a blade-wielding psycho called a Splicer. You are unarmed, but assisted by a man called Atlas in herding the Splicer into a security trap.
From there you find a vending machine with a syringe in it. Inexplicably, and without prompting you jab the needle into your arm, and are endowed with magical-ish powers called plasmids. You pass out, and wake up when a giant robot-thing, a Big Daddy, stomps on by with a creepy little girl, a Little Sister, in tow. Seems the Little Sister wants to collect "angels" from the dead. She seems disappointed to find you aren't dead, then goes about her creepy little business.
Once you recover, it's off to kill, explore, and that sort of video game stuff. You are guided by Atlas from checkpoint to checkpoint. He want you to help him save his family, and I think your motivation starts as finding out what the hell is going on. Soon it becomes apparent that the Splicers are the main reason rapture has gone to hell, while the Big Daddies and Little Sisters, while creepy and misguided, are largely neutral.
Graphics: Simply beautiful. Numerous times I walked into a new room and just spent two or three minutes just looking at the room. It was pretty. It was very pretty. HD video is essential for this. Standard Definition was OK, but with HD there were colors and details I didn't even know were there, initially. Most of the rooms were not well lit, so I'd imagine countless details went unnoticed.
Sound: Great atmospheric sound. Water drops can be heard almost everywhere. The Splicers talk to each other when they don't know you're there, and taunt you once you're discovered. Early on, the Sounds the Big Daddy make is close to terrifying.
Gameplay: Solid. The enemy AI was adequate to make you think before diving into combat. Combat with groups provided some challenges. Early combat with a Big Daddy was borderline epic. Learning to use traps and the city's own security system to your advantage created a good sense of accomplishment when pulled off correctly.
Nitpicks: Most of this falls into suspension of disbelief, but it was a problem for me.
The hacking system was odd. It was a variation of the old game Pipe Dream. Also, there is no explanation of the enemy-recognition system for the security system. How does the machine gun know I'm hostile? What changes once I hack it? It was also strange that most of my power was obtained from vending machines.
As great as the sound was, it wasn't as directional as I'd like. Maybe I need a better surround sound system, but distance and direction of sound are important in a game that features a creepy atmosphere. Also, more dialogue for the Splicers would have been great. Developers, you may have 8-10 things for a character to say, but remember that I'm probably going to encounter a couple hundred of these guys, each saying two or three lines each before I drop them.
I mentioned earlier that most of the rooms were very dark. As much detail as the artists put into the environment, a simple flashlight would have been great so I could look at said detail.
In the vein of missing items, an inventory system would have been nice. Even one inventory slot to hold a bag of chips or the like would have been good.
All of that was minor, though. Easilly dismissed for how great the game was.
Big Problems: Death. There is absolutely no consequence for dying. Revival chambers are plentiful in the game. Seems you run over one each time you open a door. When you die, you are transported to the nearest chamber, revived at half health, full mana, and a short distance from where you fell. The only consequence of death was a few seconds lost in traveling back to your damaged enemy.
Choice. The game is supposed to be a bout your choices and the consequences of your actions. However, like every game that purports to be about choice, it comes down to two things. Are you an saint, or are you a bastard? There is absolutely no middle ground. Once you take a single step down the "evil" path, you're on it for good.
On the whole, it's a great game. Definitely wort a pick up.
Final verdict: Buy
Holy crap, that was longer than I thought it would be.
Hooray for video games!
I've been drawn to electronic entertainment since I was in 6th grade. My brother got an NES as a graduation present, and I wasn't allowed to touch it. (Incidentally, it pains me that I feel it necessary to add a wiki link for info the NES. damn I feel old.) Of course, I played that system every chance I got. The first game I played on it was Castlevania. Since those days, video games have been rather special for me. As such, when the mood strikes me, I'll post some video game reviews.
Currently I'm thinking of Pass, Rent, and Buy as final rankings. I think they are self explanatory, and don't need much explanation or interpretation.
Currently I'm thinking of Pass, Rent, and Buy as final rankings. I think they are self explanatory, and don't need much explanation or interpretation.
Hey, Look at Me!
I suppose this is the obligatory post announcing my presence on the intraweb. I think I might have one of the tubes all to myself.
Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste. I've been around for long long years, stole many a man's soul and faith.
OK, enough Rolling Stones' lyrics. Here's a little bit about me. I'm 31 (not quite "long long years," in my estimation), and single. I've recently gone back to college, and work part-time as a retail clerk (so there goes the wealth portion of the lyrics). I enjoy cooking and have been told I'm good at it. I'm inclined toward all things geek. Movies, music, card games, board games, books, I enjoy them all. As such, I'd like to think that I can hold my own in most conversations, and have no problems asking questions when I seem to be in over my head.
Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste. I've been around for long long years, stole many a man's soul and faith.
OK, enough Rolling Stones' lyrics. Here's a little bit about me. I'm 31 (not quite "long long years," in my estimation), and single. I've recently gone back to college, and work part-time as a retail clerk (so there goes the wealth portion of the lyrics). I enjoy cooking and have been told I'm good at it. I'm inclined toward all things geek. Movies, music, card games, board games, books, I enjoy them all. As such, I'd like to think that I can hold my own in most conversations, and have no problems asking questions when I seem to be in over my head.
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