I've got nothing.
In fact, I'm taking a lot of it back. I haven't decided on it firmly yet, but if there's anything on here you were particularly fond of, or wanted to read over again, please do so before the end of the week. I'm contemplating locking up the entries from the first three years.
And perhaps wiping facebook and co. from my list of regular ventures.
I'm consistently reminded why I spend most of my time away from people. And now I'm finding my haven's overrun by inane diatribes and the particular vagaries of people who, by and large, really shouldn't share their thoughts with anyone.
I'm tired of it, folks. I'll be pleased when the Christmas season is over. I've got two weeks to spend. I shall be going away again, though I doubt there will be pictures or anything of the such this time. I've a feeling it will be me and the netbook and several thousand kilometres of open road.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Status
I've been staring at this thing for about half an hour now, trying to think about what to write about. I've got material, but the problem is that it just seems so trite right now, I'm not even sure I could make it through the diatribe before succumbing to revulsion and putting my fist through the screen.
So lets start at the beginning then, shall we? A game called Borderlands.
Now, it does so many things right. RPG aspects. Check. Powerful weapons. Check. Comical amounts of gore and violence. Check. Macabre and vile humour. Check. A top-notch cell-shading engine. Check. A thriving market for weapons and equipment. Che-wha?
You can see precisely where the game lost me. As a co-operative shooter, this should've been something that was right up my alley. However. Once you pass the mystical level 20 mark, the game devolves into a rabid scavenger hunt. Lewt. Money. The enemies become little more than pathetic obstacles between you and the next haul, which you gleefully bag and haul back to the nearest vending station for profit.
At least, that's how the game panned out for me. I might be wrong, but generally in shooter games, the idea is to... erm... shoot people. Not scavenge for leftovers in an attempt to turn a buck, although there's really nothing wrong with playing it like that. No, instead, I'm chastised for leaping out and engaging the enemy, blazing a path from point A to point B, visiting ungodly amounts of carnage on any convicts that dare stand in my way. The weapons I missed are lamented, and I'm again chastised, as, again, that's money I'm missing.
Not really. As with all RPG's before it, games like this are a factor of income over time. In the real world, we expire, ergo time is finite and given meaning. Games like this don't expire. You never run out of time, ergo you've got all the time in the world to just grind cash if you need it. I personally don't much care for in-game wealth, so I just want to play through, bask in the story (if there is one), and raise a little hell and have a few laughs along the way. Market Economics in a post-colonial offworld colony is of no interest to me, and my lack of a materialist inclination in the game is apparent, as I'll usually pass off big and expensive guns in favor of cheap ones that just make shit go boom without fail.
Anyway. That's my rant. I've taken to playing Borderlands on my own a lot more, since playing with other people usually involves doing things how they want it done. As nice as having in-game cash is, there are better ways I'd rather spend four hours of my life than pretending I'm working.
On to other things.
Well, I don't even really know where to start with the other things.
Perhaps I'll just recount an anecdote from my ethics teacher in college.
How to kill a man twice.
The first time you kill a man will be his physical death.
The second time will be the death or defacement of his memory.
I'm feeling it now more than ever.
I'm hoping there will be a time when I'm not a stand-in or a gateway or a proxy.
Not likely, mind you. But a guy can dream.
So lets start at the beginning then, shall we? A game called Borderlands.
Now, it does so many things right. RPG aspects. Check. Powerful weapons. Check. Comical amounts of gore and violence. Check. Macabre and vile humour. Check. A top-notch cell-shading engine. Check. A thriving market for weapons and equipment. Che-wha?
You can see precisely where the game lost me. As a co-operative shooter, this should've been something that was right up my alley. However. Once you pass the mystical level 20 mark, the game devolves into a rabid scavenger hunt. Lewt. Money. The enemies become little more than pathetic obstacles between you and the next haul, which you gleefully bag and haul back to the nearest vending station for profit.
At least, that's how the game panned out for me. I might be wrong, but generally in shooter games, the idea is to... erm... shoot people. Not scavenge for leftovers in an attempt to turn a buck, although there's really nothing wrong with playing it like that. No, instead, I'm chastised for leaping out and engaging the enemy, blazing a path from point A to point B, visiting ungodly amounts of carnage on any convicts that dare stand in my way. The weapons I missed are lamented, and I'm again chastised, as, again, that's money I'm missing.
Not really. As with all RPG's before it, games like this are a factor of income over time. In the real world, we expire, ergo time is finite and given meaning. Games like this don't expire. You never run out of time, ergo you've got all the time in the world to just grind cash if you need it. I personally don't much care for in-game wealth, so I just want to play through, bask in the story (if there is one), and raise a little hell and have a few laughs along the way. Market Economics in a post-colonial offworld colony is of no interest to me, and my lack of a materialist inclination in the game is apparent, as I'll usually pass off big and expensive guns in favor of cheap ones that just make shit go boom without fail.
Anyway. That's my rant. I've taken to playing Borderlands on my own a lot more, since playing with other people usually involves doing things how they want it done. As nice as having in-game cash is, there are better ways I'd rather spend four hours of my life than pretending I'm working.
On to other things.
Well, I don't even really know where to start with the other things.
Perhaps I'll just recount an anecdote from my ethics teacher in college.
How to kill a man twice.
The first time you kill a man will be his physical death.
The second time will be the death or defacement of his memory.
I'm feeling it now more than ever.
I'm hoping there will be a time when I'm not a stand-in or a gateway or a proxy.
Not likely, mind you. But a guy can dream.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Nix me one evening, and a quar'er tank of gas
I would've thought that a couple months would've been adequate time to plan and prepare.
Although I suppose I should've seen it coming. When a couple of convicted flakes offer to buy you pizza and drinks for helping them move, my bullshitometer should have immediately translated that into "nothing," and "a migraine."
Serves me right for being helpful.
Although I suppose I should've seen it coming. When a couple of convicted flakes offer to buy you pizza and drinks for helping them move, my bullshitometer should have immediately translated that into "nothing," and "a migraine."
Serves me right for being helpful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)