Bits For Rent

It’s hard to believe it has been over 11 months since I last sat down and gave myself the time to place my thoughts into sentences. In fact, it is almost a year to the day since my second-to-last entry here. What fascinates me about this is that I cannot even count the number of times each week I will think of a subject and say to myself, “Hmm, this would be a great blog post.” Suffice it to say that it would be quite high. And yet, after 11 months, I have naught to show for it but these few short sentences expressing my regret at all the things I lacked the time to do.

Time is a fascinating thing. And thinking about it has caused me to want to make some pretty spectacular sweeping generalizations about people. The rest of this post will be rife with those, so literalists and fact-checkers may want to take their ball and go home before I start causing smoke to come out of your ears. Everyone else, enjoy the ride.

The Illusion of Control

As humans, it is in our very nature to attempt to control as many of the variables in the world as possible. For those that we cannot control, we build up such great amounts of data that we are able to predict, within one or two standard deviations, what the likely occurrence will be. In the world of technology, Moore’s Law tells us that the number of transistors that we can place in a computer chip will double every two years. This statement has held true for over 40 years. With weather, we lose accuracy the further out we predict, but 24 and 48 hour forecasts hold an incredibly high level of accuracy. (Thanks to the spread of 3G networks and WiFi, we are able to keep up with adjustments to a forecast on the fly, thereby lessening the likelihood of incorrect forecasts from negatively impacting our personal plans.)

My favorite example is the odds-makers in Vegas, though. The amount of times I have heard, or even said myself, how incredibly accurate the line is… well, let’s just say the amount of nickels could afford someone a free lunch, and possibly dinner. The beauty of Vegas’s system is similar to that of the New York Stock Exchange– the actual measure of the point spread (or stock value) is directly correlated with our own assumptions as a whole. There’s a fascinating book about this by James Suroweicki called The Wisdom of Crowds which I won’t go into at length, but the crux of the book is this: people, so long as they have some knowledge about the subject, will as a group deliver an estimate of that subject’s worth, outcome — whatever it is that is being measured — with almost startling accuracy.  When pressed into guesswork or speculation, be it for Fantasy Football or the outcome of an election, we do a damn good job of predicting the future.

Yet despite all of our cunning and data analysis, cross-referencing and fact-checking, gut feelings and soothsayings, we make for especially rotten self-analysts. We routinely stack our plates with more than we can handle, build up incredible backlogs of things that we “must” get done but that are not of a high enough priority to actually get done, and never fail to lament our perpetual lack of time (case in point: this post). A lot of things can be blamed for this, such as becoming bogged down in minutiae, spending too much time on things that are of no practical benefit, sleeping too much, or sacrificing personal time for the sake of socializing with others. None of which is really important, though. It’s nice to be able to assign the blame elsewhere and list reasons X,Y, and Z as to why we never finished that book or made it to the gym yesterday, but again that’s really just us being human and needing to categorize, number, and file away all of life’s particulars.  The point I suppose I set out to make is that we actually have very little control of our own lives, despite our firm belief otherwise. Holding your breath will not slow down time any more than a Shake Weight will get you into shape. Which is, I believe, largely why we do our best to ignore it.

To be more clear, what I think we ignore is more the long-term span of time, not the immediate and ongoing elements of time. Think about it like this: when people reach certain milestones in their life, such as a birthday or anniversary, we typically celebrate those moments retrospectively. New Year’s Day is probably the biggest exception, due to resolutions and the optimism and hope that a new year brings, but even birthdays tend to be focuses around what has been, not what will be. We do not care for analyzing our personal future because we are hardwired to not think about it, just as we are hardwired to not think about our own inevitable deaths. The reason for this is the same reason we have weather forecasts and Vegas over/under lines: we hate uncertainty. With a passion.

Two examples to help me illustrate this point:

Imagine if you were to knock down every wall in an IKEA and take away all of the signs that indicated what section you were in and where you could find certain items. It would take what is already, in my humble opinion, an excruciating experience and turn it into torture. Nothing would make sense without the guide lines there to show us the way, and no doubt the store would have a very difficult time attracting customers. (In fairness, there are people that enjoy sifting through clutter to find hidden gems, much like a child will rifle through a bag of LEGOs in order to find the one block he needs to build something. In these cases the end goal is always clear beforehand, though. I will concede I’m generalizing a bit here.)

My second example is a bit more partial to my job, but think about MySpace versus Facebook. Even without the exclusivity of “college students only” that propelled the latter site to such heights, Facebook was always better positioned to succeed. And the reason for that really comes down to two factors: uniformity and user authenticity. By only allowing users to modify the content they shared, and not the design of the site, Facebook maintains a consistent appearance and style throughout all of its pages. Likewise, the insistence on users listing their real names and using photos of themselves as their profile picture encourages a sense of legitimacy and authenticity to the experience… which, on the Internet, is quite honestly a fucking miracle. The internet is the world of Anonymous, and yet Facebook has over 500 million people (mostly) representing themselves authentically. People are drawn to it because it can be trusted to deliver on these two points.

With time, though, we can’t trust anything that has not already happened. “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” That may be the single most accurate statement ever written, other than perhaps, “The French are rude.” But I digress. The point I suppose I’m driving at is that we live in a society where we are constantly aware of what is immediately in front of or behind us, but we too often fail to see the forest for the trees. Americans, in particular, are guilty of a life where everything must be full-throttle, on the quick, and we’ll sleep when we’re dead. Even I am guilty of this, and I love sleeping in. The unfortunate thing is that this is ultimately a part of our human nature, or so I would posit. You can crush an ant hill and sit and watch as the colony frantically rebuilds its home and laugh at how pointless it seems, but then you’ll go on Facebook and see one of your friends post something like, “Lost phone, need #s.” The catalog of the past matters more than the future, because it is the record of our lives and all that we will leave behind when we’re gone. It’s why photos are the first thing people rush to save in a fire. “Don’t worry,” you can console someone, “all that stuff can be replaced.” But he or she will still feel miserable, because our accumulation of “stuff” — experiences, clothes, phone numbers, friends, CDs — is what defines us. In the end, afterlife or no afterlife, or record of existing on this planet comes from those people, places, and things we touched. On a base level, we realize that; but in the here and now, it’s often too easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle without considering what each action will mean in a day, a week, a year, or even a decade. (Obviously some choices matter less than others so we don’t need to be microscopically analyzing every choice, but bear with me — I already warned you I’d be generalizing.)

But why then do we always wish we could have done more? Why do we work so hard and make so many sacrifices only to look back at the end of each day and reflect on all the things we did not have time to get done? Maybe it’s because, deep down, we hear the seconds ticking away and know that there can only be so many more to come. Maybe it’s because we want to hold ourselves to a higher standard, and our shortcomings are indicative of how we could improve. Maybe it’s both of those, and more. But control is an illusion. Time is the scarcest resource known to man, and we will always feel as if we are at a lack for it because it is the one thing we can never get back (well, that and your taxes). So we make our decisions deliberately, prioritizing what to get done and what to shelve every minute of every day, knowing full well that every cause will have an effect and that each task completed leaves behind two that we’ll never get to. It’s like a never ending case of buyer’s remorse, us wishing we had been able to have done the other thing or possibly done them all. Perhaps that’s part of human nature, too. For all of our efforts to reduce uncertainty and live life in control of the information available to us, we’ll always feel the need to make that information more complete. Each opportunity that passes us by grates on us because it’s one more data point that must be left blank, like those MP3 files you have without the album art.

“Great,” you may be thinking, “so what was the point of this post again?” Good question. To me, it I appears I wrote over 1700 words of meandering, navel-gazing prose that leaps from point to point without drawing any definitive conclusions, other than life is rather short on definitives but most certainly has a conclusion. Time marches on, with or without us, and it can often feel like a race we’re struggling to stay in. All I know is that in the time it took me to write this, I could have done a load of laundry, taken out the trash, dusted my apartment, and probably read a few news clips to catch up on current events.

But, hey, that’s what tomorrow’s for, right?

I haven’t posted in ages, I know, and there’s so much to discuss–the list grows longer by the day–but forgive for not writing a real blog entry for just a while longer. In exchange, you can read my titillating comments on why Sonic is a terrible series in 3D. Joy!

Blink: Is it a bad thing that I’m suddenly highly interested in the StH franchise?
StealthFox: lmao
StealthFox: maybe if you’re doing a historically report
StealthFox: -ly
Blink: ehh
Blink: It’s about the 2d to 3d transition
Blink: I’m wondering why it failed
StealthFox: haven’t we talked about this?
Blink: And I know the basics, camera and controls
Blink: Have we? I don’t know. Maybe
Blink: I’ve touched on it in the past.
Blink: Now though, I’m seriously into it
StealthFox: first of all, sonic team cannot do 3d. they just cannot execute a game properly in a 3d environment
Blink: I don’t mean Sonic team. Screw them, they suck
StealthFox: second, sonic need only run in one direction to do what he does. 3d involves near infinite directional capabilities. failure imminent.
Blink: Aha, see, this is where one needs a brain. (which Sonic Team lacks)
Blink: Sonic needs to run in one direction…
Blink: How can you control that?
Blink: a compass
Blink: Give Sonic a direction to run in, eg, North
Blink: The entire game, Sonic runs North, in general
Blink: Who cares how you get there, just go North
Blink: It follows the same principles of an old 2d Sonic game, run right
StealthFox: are you advocating the existence of an on-rails sonic?
Blink: Nay
Blink: Free roaming
StealthFox: uh…
Blink: But you know you need to run North
Blink: Just like you knew you needed to go Right
StealthFox: sounds like burnout paradise or crackdown or any other sandbox game
Blink: Free roaming, but the goal is always at the northmost point on the map
Blink: Well, the levels wouldn’t be totally open
Blink: Imagine a bridge
Blink: You know you need to get from where you get on to where you get off
Blink: But as Sonic, you can climb all over it, run in different lanes, etc.
Blink: It has a general direction, and natural barriers, but you’ve still generally gotta go in the same direction
Blink: *still got a lot of freedom
Blink: *distracted atm(
StealthFox: so, basically, a race track
Blink: Well what do you expect of Sonic? xD
Blink: But no, not really.
StealthFox: i don’t see any reason why this should exist
Blink: More like a Monster Rally race course
Blink: In fact, I bet a Sonic game in a monster rally course would sell and play better than any other 3d Sonic game
StealthFox: what is the key to success in completing a 2d sonic course, aside from running right?
Blink: Timing jumps?
StealthFox: level memorization, essentially
Blink: A little, yes
Blink: That or insane reflexes
StealthFox: sonic is an arcade game, not a platformer, wouldn’t you say? the puzzles are not challenging your ability to time different types of jumps and traverse the environment. the game just loads you to the gills with rings and sends you flying towards a boss encounter, with spike traps and jumps and loops along the way
Blink: Arcade game, yes. But I disagree about the puzzles, Sonic 3 is good proof of needing to have either A) fast reflexes or B) level memorization
Blink: Then again, Sonic 3 was more adventure like. It had saveslots
StealthFox: i’m trying to fight my bias here, but level memorization is essentially the same thing that all arcade games require: ikaruga to contra and so on
StealthFox: so, my point really is that in turning to a 3d environment, what was fun in 2d became rather ordinary and boring in 3d
Blink: What, the arcade aspects?
StealthFox: castlevania had the same thing happen: it thrived to much off of the super metroid exploration system in 2d that when they attempted to do that in 3d they forgot that it actually sucks–something that metroid prime carefully avoided
StealthFox: yes, the arcade aspects
Blink: wait, they forgot that what “actually sucks”, the exploration system?
StealthFox: runing and timing jumps and the twitch reflexes so inherent to sonic had already been done superbly in 3d before sonic ever got there
StealthFox: the wandering around listlessly and platforming through repetitive environments ad nauseum
StealthFox: castlevania platforming is incredibly vertical
Blink: So what made it entertaining in the first place then?
StealthFox: in metroid prime, it’s all very horizontal
Blink: Ahhh, I see
Blink: So keeping it 2d, but making the game 3d
StealthFox: the fact that it was 2d allows for verticality and different types of progression
StealthFox: plus, 3d has one huge problem: camera views
Blink: Essentially, MP kept a 2d map and Castlevania tried to make a 3d one?
StealthFox: castlevania tried to literally recreate itself in 3d, warts and all. the hub system was a failure, the combat was mundane, and the environments were stagnant.
StealthFox: MP solved the problem by creating a sense of consistency, as if you were exploring this enormous and varied planet’s surface for the first time
StealthFox: it had variety, it was very horizontal, and it still delivered the hardcore backtracking and item collecting without making it overwhelming to the average player
StealthFox: only mario galaxy has so far been able to truly manipulate highly vertical environments this generation, and that’s because of the nature of its level design. no other series has the flexibility to pull it off…. except ratchet and clank, which did it to a smaller extent on PS2
Blink: So you actually meant that the 3d transitions should be true sequels that aim to keep the core gameplay rather than 3d versions of the 2d games
StealthFox: i think that there are things that a 3D sonic can keep from the 2D games and things that it should do differently. So far, no game has really gotten that right.
Blink: Yep. That sounds about right
Blink: Lacking in just about any detail at all, but for what it is, spot on
StealthFox: you look at screens and videos for the games as they come out and think “boy, how could this not be great?” and then play it and say “oh.”
StealthFox: You play Galaxy yet?
Blink: I get it tomorrow. Maybe tonight, if I pick my “one gift” correctly
StealthFox: Ok. Well when you play it, you will understand what I am about to say
Blink: I asked for exactly two things this year: Galaxy and a chair, so I know I’ll get it. :P
Blink: Shoot
StealthFox: The whimsy and style and imagination that is apparent in every star challenge, ever level design, and every stretch of bricks, blocks, and planetoids in that game is exactly what the Sonic games have lacked. They are soulless and shallow in comparison not only to Mario, but to their former and even DS iterations.
StealthFox: The “pop” and creative spark twinkle brightly at times, but then get snuffed out in a matter of moments
Blink: Any examples?
StealthFox: sonic and the secret rings: a few great moments of frenetic, intense dodging and running ruined by crappy music, punishing difficulty and a surprisingly tiring setting.
StealthFox: It was so close to being a worthy sonic game, but time and budget constraints, or maybe just a complete lack of creative energy sank it like a bag of bricks
Blink: ouch
Blink: Yeah, development time is another big issue
Blink: One new Sonic game every 12 months = fail
Blink: Just, like, inherently
Blink: It’s not possible to make quality games that fast, and it shows
StealthFox: as an aside, i totally think they should have called Rainbow Six: Vegas 2 Rainbow Six: Vegas: Cashing In

And there you have it folks. Any comments on this one are fully appreciated. I really do love dissecting a game and honoring/trashing it as need be. Join in, won’t you?

I guess the last entry took the wind out of me. It’s certainly been a while since I’ve managed to come around and punch anything in to this little text field that was worth punching in, but I’ll spare the lengthy diatribes for another time and just chat about some recent goings-on.

Since the last time I posted, Arctic Monkeys released their second CD, Favourite Worst Nightmare, and I’ve probably listened to the whole thing well beyond a dozen times. At just over 38 minutes, the disc is an dense compilation of break-ups, breakdowns, cultural criticisms and wry ballads about sex kittens now domesticated. It’s every bit what you’ve come to expect from the explosive little band of Brit youngsters, with a dash of cock-punching thrown in for good measure. If you like rock, then be prepared to hear some of the best guitar and drum coordination this side of the year 2000. I do not exaggerate.

Other than music, I’ve been dividing my time up betwixst a medley of anime, sci-fi, and good old fashion gaming. In terms of the latter, I’ve recently detailed the rekindled love affair between myself and Pokemon Diamond on the aL forums, plus I’ve been finding spare moments to level up and explore the world of Ivalice once more in Final Fantasy XII. I really wish that the PS3/Wii hype hadn’t occured at the same time as this game’s release, because if it weren’t for those things I honestly believe that I could have written about this game for months on end. (Which reminds me, I never did finish the Legend of Zelda articles on here… blast it all.) Something about playing an RPG where the story is so rich and the characters so complex and the combat so effortless that at times I merely steer my party around with naught but the analog sticks just seems so divine. Being able to type long sentences about such a game is also quite enriching, but I shant detract from my love session to indulge in that just yet. In reality, words are lost in describing how beautiful the world of FFXII is, even in its starkest dungeons and most vile of villains’ smiles. Undoubtedly, my game of the year for 2006. Bar none.

But what of the pokeymons? Ah, pokemon. Such an interesting one, that. I really do like the psuedo-3D that Game Freak went with in this one, as well as the nice big touch screen buttons that you tap on to carry out battles. Both add a great deal of charm and endearment to a series that is growing considerably long in the tooth. I cannot say I have great pleasure in the first 4 or so hours of the game that I have played. Something about the fact that the wild pokemon always being so weak and so repetitive (500 types and I’ve only got 14 logged in my Pokedex? What. The. Fuck.) and that first dungeon always being Rock pokeys just annoys me. And I had to get running shoes to move fast? What the hell was I wearing to begin with? Cinderblocks?

Early nags aside, the game does show some serious potential to fuck up my summer. I’ve been limiting my play sessions quite moderately, but once the looming figure of finals week has passed over me, it’s balls-out gaming time for me. Ninja Gaiden Sigma demo (Fucking SICK! You have no idea.), FFXII, and Pokemons to keep me company at the pool is going to make for a May like no other. Or like every other, only better. Either way, me and my Fire-spitting, Fear-of-God-inducing baboon Momo are going to be kicking ass and taking names for quite some time. That is, unless someone hands me my ass on the Nintendo WFC.

Two more bits I want to jot down here. First off, I’ve been trying to force-feed myself some anime, since I’ve been rather avoiding the stuff overall for the past few months. I’m working through Samurai 7 (good), and I totally made Afro Samurai at the top of my Buy List (right up there with the Pan’s Labyrinth DVD), but the one that has be intrigued the most right now is Madhouse’s Claymore. It’s essentially the same fucking cartoon we’ve seen forever: rogue, solitary antihero goes around killing demons or whatever in different towns, saves an obnoxious little brat and ends up buddying up with the kid to become a more “human” figure and learn a bit more about right and wrong, or something. What’s endearing to me is the animation quality and apparent spit-polish that’s been put into such a straight-forward plot. The visuals are truly striking, and each of the three episodes aired so far have been enjoyable from start to finish, enough so that I’m actually eager for my next filling. Madness, I say.

Oh, and then there’s some show called Battlestar Galactica that I decided to download and try out. I think you’ve probably heard of it. All I can say is holy shit how was I so late to this fucking party. The show has everything I require from life: a hot chick walking around talking nonsense while being naked or wearing something incredibly hot, a scientist that is out of his freakin’ mind with hallucinations and paranoia, a craggy old commander struggling to fight a war and keep his life together, hulking-ass robots that trying to wipe humanity out entirely, and a giant game of Guess Who’s the Cylon that only gets more and more intriguing with each episode. Color me impressed, folks. I’m about halfway through season one, and after watching the past seven episodes and the miniseries I’m just about ready to call myself a fan. And as my parting words for the evening, I would recommend you becoming one, too.

Well, it’s been a bit longer than the usually lengthy intermission between posts, but I’m back after a stressful and stress-relieving week. Some exciting things have been going on, some not so much. Let’s get down to the brass tacks then.

First, I’ve re-established my love for Interpol, the original hair-cut kings and princes of melodrama from New York. The group has some of the best sounding guitars in modern rock; not quite the roaring noise of metal but also dislike the wailing and waining of emo six-stringers. It’s more akin to a siren’s call, hauntingly ethereal yet hypnotically enticing, pulling sounds from the air and weaving them into some fine symphony. In total, the band’s two CDs (Antics and Turn on the Bright Lights) only span a scant 21 tracks, but I’d say about 16 of these are more than worth the time it would take to get ahold of them. So, then, that’s your homework for the week.

What’s more exciting, though, is that yesterday (today for me, and what a long one it’s been… 20 hours and ticking) I was lucky enough to go to see The Decemberists at the Hard Rock. Yes, this is the same group that I have said people must get off the cocks of, and the same group that I was wooed by some two or three months ago. However, what I failed to mention then that I am now capable of telling you all is that the band is fucking unbelievable in concert. From the moment the Russian anthem begins to the end of the encore (The Mariner’s Revenge Song … for those that know the song you know how pants-soiling awesome this was) there was never a moment where the group faltered. Each song connected and slowly ramped up the kinetic energy of the room until the standing-room only crowd began to literally stomp with beast-like fervor for more; our aural appetite was insatiable.

And then they came out and played Mariner’s, complete with an awful paper mache + sheet as a giant whale. Nevertheless, it was more than sufficient, and I left with “the boys” stunned at the spetacle I had just been fortunate enough to be privy to. I don’t think I can beat around the bush anymore on this subject: the band is great in concert, and I would gladly see them again anytime.

That being the highlight of my week, let me bullet point the rest: I’ve traveled over 600 miles this weekend, in car, and my brain is currently popping and sizzling like a bit of plastic in the microwave. I’ve been on go-karts, ATVs, truck-like workhorse vehicles, dirt bikes, and God knows what else. I’ve had barbeque pork, sushi, ribs, lobster, and plenty of chocolate in the last few days to probably feed five people. I’ve listened to over eight hours of podcasts, radio, and iPod music in my car in two days. I got refused at the Hard Rock Hotel because I couldn’t think of a restaurant name (don’t ask). I’ve stressed over tests that a five year old can pass, sold ice cream for fundraisers, and learned more about syphilis and measles than any sane man would care to know. I also have a cold sore on the side of my mouth that makes me think I have TB or Herpes, even though that would be utterly impossible. But still, I appear to be what they call “sane.” Go figure that one out.

I said last week that I would be reading Suite Francaise, however this is untrue. Instead of opting for the novella/French WWII drama, I went with the quirky yet gripping little book called Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson. For those unfamiliar with the title, imagine a future where America and the rest of the world has been completely commercialized so that governments no longer exists, but instead we are merely a collection of sovereignties owned by big international businesses. Now add on top of this a dash of sci-fi tech (of course) and a virtual, Second Life-esque world called the Metaverse that people “goggle” into from anywhere in the world, where anyone can be anything from a massive prick (literally) to a rock god. Then add some of the best humor you can possibly think of, and you’re getting close to the glory of this book.

Short version: Read it, if you have any interest in science fiction, the internet, or high speed pizza delivery.

Also, I’ve been keeping pace with Guns, Germs, and Steely Objects, and that’s going rather well. It’s fun to learn some of the more obscure facts that Diamond presents, but unfortunately the book is far too dry and scholarly in its writing to be recommended without reservations. But… it’s growing late, so I’ll cut myself off here and hopefully pick back up in a few days with something exciting to discuss.

The above title is a statement of pure truth, plain and simple.  Take a look at all the main characters:

• Samus: Bounty Hunter that goes from planet to planet massacring room after room of “Space Pirates” – conveniently named enemies if you ask me.  I mean, come on, she’s got highly advanced weaponry and a suit that turns her into a bomb-laying ball.  How is she not a murderer?
• Fox McCloud: another mercenary, this time hired by a government to carpet-bomb an entire solar system and blast the hell out of a giant floating head that can do little but feebly wave its arms at you and try to swallow your ship whole.  I have no idea how he sleeps at night.
• Donkey Kong: sort of a good guy, since he tries to flatten a fat plumber/killer with barrels… but then again he did kidnap some poor girl.
• Mario and Luigi: a tag-team pair of homicidal maniacs that enjoy crushing their victims with the sheer weight of their ass cheeks.  They are known to terrorize up to nine different worlds of innocent creatures – creatures simply walking around or practicing hammer tossing and boomerang throws – at a time, and have even been known to burn some victims alive.  Bastards.
• Yoshi: it’s a fucking dinosaur that swallows people.  Ever see Jurassic Park?
• Kirby: some horrible science experiment gone wrong.  Like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, this strange blob of God-knows-what sucks its victims up like a vacuum and then absorbs them into its fleshy pink… skin?  Kirby is, if nothing else, a sign of why man shouldn’t play God.

And finally, there’s Link.  Link is the poster boy of Nintendo’s mega-hit series, The Legend of Zelda.  Sad thing is, he’s all a rampaging psychopath.  As soon as someone lets him have a sword, he heads off into the world and kills every living thing in sight.  Even blades of grass cannot escape his savagery, falling left and right despite their offering of rupees to sate the child’s madness.  Link sees fit to invade every person’s home in every square inch of his country, smashing their fine pottery and molesting poor farmers’ chickens.  He rides around like a demon in the flesh, his terrible steed beneath him, bringing terror to every land he crosses.  They say that Ganondorf is the villain of the series because he is always hungry for power or trying to crush the damsel Princess Zelda, but if you had heard word of a man in tights and a weird tube hat rampaging across your homeland, would you not do everything in your power to defeat him?  I would certainly hope so.  Link is no hero, ladies and gentlemen.  He is a disgrace to the title and we should be ashamed for purchasing any game to play as him, let alone a new console.

But, after beating Twilight Princess, I must say… being a psychotic killer never felt so sweet.  Next post brings you all the impressions you can ask for.

Bummer. It looks like the mythical Wisdom Tooth removal was not nearly as serious an operation as I had been let on to believe. In fact, I’m pretty much able to eat normally today despite the stitches and minor swelling. My bite got a little messed up but I think I’ll either accustom to it or it’ll sort itself out by Christmas Eve, when I hope to be kicking back the egg nog and shovelling all sorts of fine treats down my fresh-from-surgery gullet. But since the painkillers weren’t that fun (if they were I probably wouldn’t be writing this), and the healing has gone rather well, what do I have left to write about? I suppose it’s about time to break the “news” and recap the weekend. Let us begin doing so presently.

So I went to the surgeon around 11am on Friday (two weeks ago), and got suited up to be opened up. After donning the blue apron and safety goggles (so blood and teeth would not fly into my eyes, I assume), the practitioner entered the room and made some nice casual conversation. I then offered my arm to him for swabbing and a needle–a nice detail that was left out from my consultation–and remarked grimly that the pinch I felt then was but a taste of the pain to come. “Nonsense,” the doctor replied, “that’s what painkillers are for.” I smiled and let out a small chuckle. We’ll see, I thought. And then I woke up with a numb mouth and an ice pack in my hand. My head still foggy, I was instructed to get out of the chair and head down the hall to wait in another room, where I would be debriefed. Apparently I had been shot up with a sedative, and the surgery was over, 55 minutes from when I last checked my watch.

I was upset to learn that the bastards had gotten the better of me. I wanted to go out with a fight, resisting the anesthetic with tooth and nail, but apparently it had quite literally knocked me on my ass. Ah well, at least I was still in one peice. Now was supposed to come the fun part, after all.

But even that caught me by surprise. I iced my face down for the rest of the day, and once the novacane wore off I did feel some pretty serious pain working it’s way in on me–I’m gonna need a refill on these pills, I mused–the next day brought little in the way of punishment. I took the standard three doses of the painkillers, and couldn’t chew worth a damn, but the swelling was minor. Come Sunday, the pain was almost completely gone, and only one pill taken. I was slowly relearning how to chew. Monday: no pain, no swelling at all, and I was getting soft foods gobbled up with frightening alacrity. Did they really take all four molars? By Wednesday the healing was complete, and I was eating soft tacos. I’ve got four of the pills left from the amount prescribed (safely stowed away for medicinal purposes), and am scatching my head over why this surgery was described to me as an experience nearly as undesirable as death. Maybe I was just lucky, or perhaps I have superhuman oral healing abilities. Either way, the drugged up gaming and movie marathon I had planned for the week did not exactly come to pass (though there was much Zelda being played), and so I’ve been struggling to get back on track and cut down my monumental “Games to Beat” pile.

Anyway, this was a post I’ve have drafted up for a week, and felt like I needed to publish just for completionist’s sake, or perhaps my own. Moral of the story? Wisdom teeth removal ain’t so bad. Don’t let them scare you.

I’ll be back soon with a big write-up on Zelda and some of the other games I’ve been playing.

I’m still holding off on reporting on the news of last week, which got considerably bigger the day after I posted, largely because I’m undergoing removal of the third molar tomorrow. You may know these as Wisdom teeth, and I must say the only thing wise about them is not keeping them in your mouth. So, in approximately 10 hours I will be knocked unconcious and have my mouth torn apart by a caffeine-fueled oral surgeon that looks oddly like Pete Sampras. Anyway, this is going to lead to two things: swelling and pain. Thankfully, there’s a cure for such a problem, and that cure is heavy fucking painkillers. I’m not sure if I’m getting the drowsy kind that make you cranky or the fun kind that make you high, but rest assured I will do my best to blog while their chemicals are coarsing through my body in full effect. With luck, it’ll turn out to be either incredibly memorable or fantastically dull. All I know is, I’m in for a helluva week, and with the past 10 days to reflect on starting tomorrow, I’m not so sure it’s going to be all that bad.

Tune in soon for lots of life stories and game coverage. With luck, I might have two 50+ hour games beaten in a week’s time. I could afford to free up some room in my to-play pile.

Wow, I just posted two entries within two days.  Either my mind is going or I’ve been hitting the ether too hard.

Anywho, just wanted to drop a note saying that the following is essential viewing:

http://www.kotaku.com/gaming/clips/wtf-crazy-360-video-199750.php

I want to find that lady and give her a penny for making me laugh so hard.  She’s got a gift, I tell you!

I waited until after 9/11 to write tonight’s post, although whether I can credit that to being daft or pure coincidence is another matter. Suffice it to say, however, I’m back with more to spew about than that sprinkler your drunk friend ran over backing out of someone’s driveway. Ah, the beauty of the metaphor. It almost brings a tear to one’s eye, no?

This week, I’ll run the gamut on the following topics, in no order whatsoever: House, Star Fox Command, courtesy, and Dracula. To start, I have been reading The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova, a first-time novelist and lover of European cultures and the 20th century. In essense, the novel is the Da Vinci Code of the vampire world, simply taking the concept of Jesus’s living heir and replacing it with a still-living Vlad Dracula. Like Brown’s book, Kostova blends the factual with the fictional, intertwining details of Vlad Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler, with the fictitious intrigues of the occult. Only a third of the way through the book myself, I’m unsure of exactly what will go down between our heroine and the Count, but I’m becoming fairly certain that the legend of Dracula will NOT be a legend, and that some wicked and utterly fantastic climax is awaiting me. After all, this is Dracula. That automatically made the book worth buying. The conspiracy theory and uncovering of his history is simply icing on the cake. Verdict: Recommended.

As for Command, or SFC as we call it, it’s a bit of an anomaly to me. I am enjoying the rather simplistic multiplayer due to its skill-based orientation, and unlocking each of the surprisingly unique endings has been a treat, especially in a series as devoid of character as Star Fox. Honestly, it’s been a decade since we’ve been treated with a decent title, and I’ll milk this one for all it’s worth. Currently a rank I in online but that will no doubt change to an A by week’s end.

And lastly, there’s House. What can I say? I never knew I had such an interest in medicine, let alone diagnosing patients, but the amoral actions of Hugh Laurie (of Blackadder fame) have me sold on this series. Aside from LOST and 24, there is no other show I would consider making time for during the week. At least, until Rome gets it second season. Because violence and sex are just what a growing boy needs. Well, that and beer. Can’t forget the beer.

Huh. It seems I missed “courtesy.” Apologies for that, my dear and unsuspecting reader. Hey, how did you get to be reading this anyway? No matter, if I’ve managed to keep your attention at all, I’m outdoing myself. Hopefully the next post will be less filler and more worth reading-er.

…

i tore my mind on a jagged sky

Forgive the lack of creativity above.  I was too preoccupied fighting off my temptation for a Duff that I forgot to present you all with my requisite snark and wit.  But seriously, look at that can.  How can you deny the urge–carnal or otherwise–it presents you with?  I believe you will arrive at the same conclusion I have, dear reader: ’tis impossible.

Moving onward, I am pleased to bring to fruition yet another succulent morsel of blog for you to chew on.  Indeed, I would go so far as to proclaim that even the graceful and majestic Cow would spit out its cud and take up roost outside Stealth Farm, so great is the flavor of my word.  But do I merely pad my own ego, or is there a point to this delirious post?

The truth is, I am returning in a mere four days to my position as Student once again.  Taking up this mantle, I shall fight for knowledge, beer, and extra credit in a world where misinformation bests information, and even the most taboo of cultural phenomena are headline material.  I speak of course of the Bennifers, TomKats, anorexic teeny pop stars, and Branjelinas that we are forced to believe require more of our attention than a goddamn war taking place in what I can only assume is the largest congregation of conservative male virgins the world has ever known… wikipedia says it’s the “Middle-East.”

But seriously, are we so out of touch with our lives and the affairs of the rest of the planet that we need to busy ourselves with photo spreads of some unmarried couple’s little girl?  Is America really flying up its own ass, or do I just not “get” how things really work?  I expect that, in the minutes after this post goes live, a G-Man will knock at my door and explain to me in some manner that “As long as people are concerned about the lives of celebrities, we’re not required to actually do anything.”  I would then be tossed in the paddy wagon and taken to some undisclosed location called Mensa, where I would then be instructed to think for the rest of my life on a government grant, but absolutely never be allowed to do anything other than walk around in a smoking jacket saying “Indeed” or play chess.

Ok, that last part was a bit much, but those Mensa guys had it coming.  Last time I checked, you got your ass kicked for being a nerd.  But now if your over twenty and still too dumb to not act smart, you get to be a Certified Nerd?  Hmm, that Shiloh sure is adorable…