Buyer's Wiimorse

I finally bought a Nintendo Wii the other day. I was really planning on holding out until next year, but I caved in to nerd demographic peer-pressure. Word on the "street" was that the local Best Buy had a few in stock, so I drove over in the middle of the day. This will probably result in a black mark on my next performance review.

The whole time driving there, I kept thinking, "why am I doing this?" I'm not really in the target demographic for the device. There aren't many games for the system available now or in the near future that interest me that much. I honestly think it’s a little over-priced at $250 a pop. My conclusion is that Nintendo has managed to trick me into thinking that the Wii is a rare, coveted device, like the elusive "North Korean" Cabbage Patch Doll(*).

At Best Buy, I walked over to the video games section. An old man was talking to a Best Buy employee, asking him if they had any Wiis. I casually eavesdropped. The employee said, "Let me look it up on the computer," and walked off.

My heart sank – the employee's reaction suggested that they were probably all sold out. But then, thanks to the miracle of peripheral vision, I noticed a stack of Wii boxes sitting on the floor, approximately 15 feet from where the old man and employee had started their conversation. I took one, considered informing the old man, decided not to, and walked to the check-out line.

In my haste to get out of the store with a Wii, I neglected to buy an actual game for the device. Fortunately, Nintendo decided to resurrect the idea of the "pack-in game", allowing me to spend some quality RSI-inducing time with the included Wii Sports game. It also supports sending and receiving email (feel free to send email to w0866167578091258 (at) wii.com, however, it may not answer in a timely fashion) and occasionally emits a soothing blue glow. I would expect that when I get an actual game for the device, I’ll feel a little better about my purchase.

(*) There is no "North Korean" Cabbage Patch Doll

Grandmotherboard

My current computer, the one I am editing this very blog entry on, is getting old. It’s pushing 4 years now, which in human-years is roughly the equivalent of a 70-year-old man with sciatica. It makes a loud whining noise on hot days. It always seems to forget where it put its glasses.

In preparation for the day I will have to retire it, with extreme prejudice, I have started looking at getting a new computer. However, because I am a computer nerd with misplaced pride, I am considering building one from scratch, instead of buying one from someone like Dell, dude.

Putting together a computer for a computer nerd is similar to tricking out your Honda CRX for a teenage car enthusiast. You start looking online for advice and prices for the most capable parts you can get for the money, that’ll still be “cutting edge” for at least 6 months. You then buy said parts, break out the screwdrivers and grounding wrist-strap, and get to work. After you're done, you brag about your fancy new "rig" to anyone who will listen (which, by the way, is no one).

The problem is, I haven’t really paid attention to the changes in computer technology for a little while, and as such, am now completely out of the loop. Going back to the car analogy, I’m the weird guy that still thinks most cars have mechanical fuel injection systems, rather than electric.

So, I’m doing my research (I am not endorsing any of the following products, btw). I’ve learned that at the moment, AMD AM2-socket chips are probably the best cheap CPUs, but Intel Core 2 Duo’s are probably better in the long run. Motherboards by Gigabyte are generally recommended. The ATI X1950-series video cards are good choices, but anyone banking on Direct X 10 is either buying an Nvidia 8800 GTX, or waiting. However, for goodness sake, do not buy a 8600 card. This is, I’m told, a rookie mistake.

Did I lose you in the last paragraph? I think I may have lost myself. You see, the terminology and products are all new to me, and I know everything is going to change in about 2 months, so I can’t even motivate myself to commit anything to memory. On top of all this, there are terms now used by computer do-it-your-selfers that I don’t understand at all. Here’s one example from a user-review on a website regarding a CPU fan:

“I used it with a S-FLEX 1600rpm & my Q6600 runs at 32 idle 35 load on a light-overclock (3.05ghz) & stock voltages. YOU WILL NEED TO LAP IT! Without lapping, it will not work!”

Did you get that? Because I didn’t. What’s a Q6600? What are “stock voltages” in this particular example? What the heck is “lapping”?

Lapping, as it turns out, is a polishing operation of metal contact surfaces to improve fit and increase heat transfer efficiency. I guess I didn’t take enough machine shop classes in high school. Also, after lapping with polishing liquids and fine sandpaper, I’m supposed to use some sort of thermal paste. Seriously. A few more hours of learning about stuff like this and I may just be giving Dell a call, dude.

Eggs for Breakfast

The other morning I was rummaging around in my fridge looking for something for breakfast, and found some quail eggs. Here’s one, compared to a regular chicken egg:




So, I fried some, sunny-side up:




The taste, at least prepared in the above fashion, is basically indistinguishable from a regular fried egg.

Cracking quail eggs can be somewhat tricky, I learned. The shell has a tendency to disintegrate, and then there's a tenacious membrane under the shell that also needs to be broken. My first attempt resulted in many tiny bits of shell everywhere.

Of course, a couple fried quail eggs is a pretty meager breakfast. I had to supplement my breakfast with some regular eggs, and a muffin. I do regret that I did not have any tiny little pieces of bacon handy.

EDIT: I apologize for the mundane-ness of this blog post. My next post will be more cutting-edge, and use the word "motherboard".

Roll to save vs "End of Month"

With the recent release (PDF) of the new "4^th Edition", I’ve decided it’s time I came clean and admitted that I, like most nerds, was a teenage Dungeons and Dragons addict.

It all started innocently enough at, of all places, summer camp. One rainy day, instead of joining a group of kids playing poker for hard-earned candy, I decided to investigate a different group circled around a camp counselor, huddled in a dark corner.

“What are you guys doing?” I asked.
“We’re playing D&D,” some kid said, not looking in my direction.
“D and what now?” I said.

The counselor was leading a game that was more of a cheap D&D substitute (he had no dice or printed material, and was making it up as he went along, using characters and settings out of C. S. Lewis’ Dawn Treader for God’s sake!) but it was good enough. I was hooked.

I cut my teeth on the “Basic Edition”, and quickly moved on to the Advanced D&D ruleset. I started saving up lunch money to spend on the rather expensive printed modules and rulebooks. In time, I realized that I preferred being the “Dungeon Master” (DM) in a game, as opposed to being an actual player, which was convenient because none of my D&D-playing friends wanted to be DM. I think they were all trying to save money.

However, my enjoyment of being a DM soon started to wane. I blame my D&D-playing friends who liked to take liberties with the rules, and the fact that I was something of a pushover. An example of this might go something like this:

Me: “You come upon a sleeping red dragon on top of a pile of treasure.”
Friend: “I try to steal some treasure.”
Me: (rolls die) “Your attempt wakes the dragon!”
Friend: “Ah, come on! I don’t want to fight the dragon. That’s so boring. Can’t I just steal some treasure and go to the next room? Please? Please?”
Me: (rolls eyes) “Fine. You steal some treasure and go to the next room.”

Pretty soon I “retired” from the role as DM, but I kept buying modules. I actually enjoyed reading them, although I always came up with nagging logistical questions, like: “Why would there be a bunch of Orcs inside some non-descript room, just sitting there waiting for the players to stumble upon them? Wouldn’t they get hungry while waiting? What if they had to go to the bathroom?”

Eventually, the publishers of the D&D material introduced a new ruleset, and I realized that I was essentially a victim of a clever money-making scheme, so I stopped playing D&D altogether. I did keep my hefty collection of printed material, but recently sold the bulk of them off to random nerd collectors for a modest profit. However, in true nostalgic nerd fashion, I scanned most of them and have a CD of old AD&D modules on my shelf, waiting to be re-discovered.

Meme or Me

The other afternoon I was watching the Mozy automated backup program on my computer run. Clearly, there wasn't any paint drying in the vicinity. During the backup process, a dialog popped up that gave the status of the backup, informing me that it was 20% done with cataloging the files, compressing them, and so on. At one point, it kindly informed me it was in the process of "reticulating splines".

This woke me out of my stupor. "Reticulating splines" sounded vaguely mathematical, but not really. What the heck did it mean? I looked it up. Turns out, it's a nonsense phrase possibly originated by the developers of SimCity 2000.

I'm pretty sure I played SimCity 2000 at some point. I might even have a CD for it lying around somewhere. But this was the first time I had seen this phrase. I was a new victim of "the missed nerd meme syndrome".

Thanks to the room filled with shouting people we call "the internet", nerd memes are coined with alarming speed. It's assumed that if you consider yourself a nerd worth your salt, you were virtually present for every meme created in the last 10 years. A co-worker recently had to shamefully admit that he had not heard of the phrase "All your base are belong to us". We were forced to revoke his geek card, although he can re-apply in 2-5 years.

So, it's with some remorse that I have to admit I have no prior knowledge of the whole "reticulating splines" movement. I will be turning myself in at the local nerd 502 office later today.

E3 Exposed

The other day I realized that May was long past, but I hadn't gone to E3, a convention in LA also known as the Electronic Entertainment Expo. The reason for this, of course, is that E3 was officially canceled after the 2006 convention, saving me the cost of a cheap flight to LA, but also denying me the opportunity to wallow in the sheer ridiculousness that is E3.

E3 is (or rather, was) a yearly convention for video games. Yes, even video games have their own convention. Like many "trade-show" oriented conventions, the main event was the expo floor, where companies could peddle their wares. Except in this case, the wares were whatever video game titles were coming out soon, and the games weren't really sold at all, but rather, hyped with the marketing power of a thousand suns.

I had been going to E3 since 2002 or thereabouts, but I wasn't going to learn about new games. Being something of a video game connoisseur (or addict, take your pick) there was almost never anything revealed at the show that I didn't already know about. Rather, I went because I wanted to laugh out loud at the sheer over-the-top atmosphere that was E3.

E3 was always: 1) Incredibly loud (every booth was trying to drown out the sound from their neighbors), 2) Incredibly flashy (30+-foot high light shows, wrap-around projection TVs bigger than my apartment complex, random celebrities, fog machines for no good reason) and 3) Filled to capacity with slack-jawed nerds. Think of the main strip in Vegas, but instead of bright lights, gambling and strippers, you have bright lights, video game demonstrations and "booth babes" (who were often strippers making some extra cash on the side). Here's some example pictures I took of Nintendo's booth from two separate E3s:






In addition, there was always a special section of the LA convention center (Kentia Hall) reserved for smaller companies trying to get people interested in bizarre games and accessories that no one had ever heard of.

My personal favorite E3 was when I went as a member of the self-aggrandized gaming press. I was writing for a gaming website at the time, and thus was told to make appointments to talk to game producers and find out what they were doing. I waltzed to the front of a long line at one booth and was ushered inside an "invite-only" room where I was served drinks and snacks, sat on a comfy couch, and had a company representative walk me through their in-development games. At another booth, a company rep walked me around the booth, and abruptly kicked "regular nerds" out of the booth when they were in the way of something she was trying to show me. Ah, the halcyon days.

The problem, however, was that most companies really had very little to actually reveal, but tried very hard to over-hype what little they had. This was the real reason behind the eventual demise of the convention itself. In 2006, the committee behind the convention decided that the overall signal-to-noise ratio of the show was so skewed, that it would benefit mankind as a whole if E3 was just canceled. The committee has since announced a new show to be held in Santa Monica, but this is a "press-only" event of a much smaller scale. Likewise, other organizers have announced wanna-be E3 replacement shows, but for me at least, the party is over.

Which is a pity. Most conventions, even trade-show-based ones, cater to some sort of professional. E3 catered to nerds, plain and simple. 16-year-old backpack-wearing nerds who worked for minimum wage at Gamestop rubbed shoulders with people who worked on games for a living. Rarely have I seen the true nerd spirit celebrated so profoundly, and in spite of how pointless the show really was, I will miss it, just a little.

I, Roomba

Several years ago, my sister's family bought my parents a Roomba. My Dad is something of a clean freak, so a little round robot made to clean the floor seemed like an appropriate gift.

The model my parents received was (at the time) one of the more high-end models. Unlike lower-end models, this Roomba had the ability to locate and return to a docking-station if it detected that it was running out of power. That's right folks, it had learned how to feed itself.

I think my parents were somewhat skeptical about the robot vacuum, but they gave it a chance, and it did do an effective job at removing daily dirt and dust around the house. Some time later, however, my father noticed an odd behavior in the little round automaton, and notified my mother about it.

"I think Oscar is getting lazy," my father said. They had named the Roomba 'Oscar' for some reason I still don't understand.
"Why do you say that?" my mother asked.
"I set him up in the bedroom room and close the door. 10 minutes later, I don't hear any noise from inside the room. I go back in and Oscar is sitting there in his little recharging station."

'Oscar', apparently, had learned an important lesson from us humans. The lesson of 'how to be a slacker'.

As it turns out, the roomba was actually having some sort of problem with its power connections, causing the battery to drain too quickly. An emergency "battery-transplant" was attempted, but this did not fix the problem, so my parents acquired a new Roomba instead, and 'Oscar' was retired. With extreme prejudice.

Well, not quite. 'Oscar' is now sitting in a box under my desk. Roombas have a "Serial Control Interface" (basically a serial port) that lets you reprogram it to work with different sensors, or program a new path-finding algorithm, etc. More info on this can be found here (pdf). At some point when I get some free time, I'm going to see what I can get the Roomba to do. Clearly, it will need to be something that demonstrates it has lost its slacker tendencies. Perhaps I'll start with having it do my taxes.