In Bosch

The following resin figurines arrived in the mail the other day:




These are figurines of characters from Hieronymus Bosch's “Temptation of Saint Anthony”, a triptych painting depicting very surreal scenes and creatures in dark and on-the-edge-of-disturbing settings. Truthfully, I'm not sure that the figurine on the left in the picture above is from this work, since I've scanned over pictures of the painting a couple times now and cannot find the little cloaked fellow. You can take part in the same surreal “where's Waldo” experience I had by going here and see if you can find him (her? it?).

I was informed a couple years ago about a company in the Netherlands that has decided to make plastic figurines of characters from various famous artists. They offer other Bosch figurines, as well as figurines based on works from Dali, Escher, and others. I'm not exactly sure if they're selling a lot of these. I would honestly be surprised if they were.

Oddly, I had all but forgotten about this company and these figurines until I watched a film called “In Bruges”, in which the two main characters visit a museum (in Bruges, Belgium), which houses a Hieronymus Bosch collection. Bosch is not a central theme in the film – the museum scene is mostly played for comedy – but for whatever reason, that scene resonated with me enough to remind me of an odd little studio in the Netherlands selling Bosch figurines.

Hieronymus Bosch was born in a small town in the Netherlands appropriately named Den Bosch, sometimes referred to as Hertogenbosch. Coincidentally, I actually visited this little town a number of years ago. I do not remember seeing any fantastic looking creatures roaming the streets, but I do remember having a "Bosche Bolle", which is something similar to a large cream-puff covered in chocolate. Perhaps the most fantastic thing I did see was someone leaving a pastry shop with a "Bosche Bolle" the size of a human head.

Cupcake Comparison

In these tough, economic times, it's important to remember to have snacks. A good cookie may not fix your tanking stock portfolio, or compensate you for being laid off of work, but it's better than nothing.

One thing I've noticed over the years is that there is usually some sort of ubiquitous chain business selling the latest "trendy" snack. This first got my attention when Mrs. Fields Cookies started, but I kept a watchful eye on the Cinnabon craze, the meteoric rise and fall of Krispy Kreme, and the recent newcomer, Beard Papas. I've also noticed a number of gourmet cupcake stores popping up, fighting for the right to become the next big snack thing. A Sprinkles Cupcakes store recently opened up near me that seems to have a never-ending line of people. Passing by it on several occasions, I have witnessed a full squad of high-school cheerleaders, in uniform, standing in line, as well as a line forty people deep at 7PM on a Friday night.

They sell individual gourmet cupcakes for about $4 a pop, which seems ridiculously expensive to me. Interestingly, another gourmet cupcake place, Kara's Cupcakes, opened a store across the street from Sprinkles, selling their cupcakes at a mere $3.75 or so. Having nothing better to do one Sunday, I decided to brave the lines at both places (thankfully short that day), and do a head-to-head cupcake comparison:



(left to right: Sprinkles Red Velvet, Sprinkles Black and White, Kara's Chocolate Velvet, and Kara's Lemony Lemon)

I sorta screwed up, however, since I didn't get exact equivalents from both stores. Nonetheless, here are my findings on each individual cupcake:

Sprinkles, "Red Velvet" : Red Velvet is apparently some sort of standard of gourmet cupcakes. I'm not sure why, since the name makes me think of curtains or something. Anyway, this one was slightly disappointing -- the "cream cheese" frosting was too sweet and too solid. The "southern style chocolate" cake was a bit on the dry, not so tasty side. Finally, it was topped with a strange red and blue candy circle, which tasted like, and may have been, decorative wax. Rating: Meh

Sprinkles, "Black and White" : Not to be confused with the New York cookie of the same name, this cupcake was slightly better than the Red Velvet, in my opinion. The vanilla frosting again was too solid, and not so creamy. The "belgian dark chocolate" cake was sufficiently chocolate-y, but again a bit on the dry side. Maybe I just got a bad batch. Rating: Ok

Kara's, "Chocolate Velvet" : This is basically Kara's take on a Red Velvet, I think. The cake portion is superior to Sprinkle's Red Velvet in taste and moistness. The frosting was good, but nothing to write sonnets about. Rating: Ok

Kara's, "Lemony Lemon" : The frosting was a little on the sweet side (it's frosting, on a cupcake. I'm not sure what I was expecting), but the actual cake portion was tasty and moist. This was aided by the addition of a creamy Meyer lemon curd filling inside the actual cake. I learned my lesson and skipped the blue disc thing. Rating: Tasty

You Got Bacon in My Chocolate

In my foolish younger adult days, I once decided to make a BLT sandwich. I opted to use eight strips of bacon. It was delicious, but, in hindsight, probably not the healthiest decision I've ever made. Like many, I have a hard time resisting the power of bacon. As a Cooks Illustrated article once stated, "Bad bacon is something of an oxymoron".

Recently, a chocolate manufacturer (Vosges) announced they had merged bacon with chocolate. Even more recently, I acquired one of these "Vosges Mo's Bacon Bars", and decided to try this unholy union for myself. Word on the street is that it's so popular in the UK, it's constantly sold out in shops. However, I generally do not view the Brits as culinary authorities with the final say, so I cleared a Thursday night on my calendar and prepared myself for this:




(no quail eggs were harmed in the making of this picture)

The instructions on the bar wrapper state:

"Notice the color of the chocolate, the glossy shine. Rub your thumb over the chocolate bar to release the aromas of smoked applewood bacon flirting with deep milk chocolate."

I did none of their silly preparation suggestions, and went straight for the main event.

It tastes, well, almost exactly as I expected. You could approximate the experience by grabbing a good piece of bacon, a Hersheys Bar (or something of slightly higher quality) and shoving them simultaneously into your mouth. Chew slowly. Your taste buds are hit with savory bacon wrapped in a milk chocolate base.

It's good. How could it not be? But, honestly, it's overkill at both ends. The bacon is overpowering, and unfortunately, the milk chocolate is overpoweringly sweet. They probably would get better results with a slightly less sweet dark chocolate. Yet, the milk chocolate version is the only one currently offered, so maybe I'm completely wrong on this. Perhaps I need to think bigger, and consider covering my next piece with a healthy dollop of clotted cream, or hollandaise sauce.

I Think This is My Stop

The company I currently work for provides free bus service for its employees to various locations. No, I do not work for Google. I've gotten into the habit of taking the train to work every other day, and then utilizing this nice perk to get from the train station to the office and back again.

The other day, the bus going to the train station never showed up. Eleven angry nerds and me were left waiting and wondering in front of the main office building. Through a very efficient process, three of the angry nerds called the bus service hot-line at the same time and demanded to know how they were going to get home.

A very accommodating person on the other end of the line quickly organized an effort to send a van to us (they had a spare van sitting around?), driven by an expendable security guard. He arrived shortly afterwards, and the twelve of us crammed into the van. With helpful suggestions such as "if you get to the station in the next eleven minutes I can make my train", we were off.

Halfway there, the driver realized he was running out of fuel. He informed us that he would be stopping for gas, and was met by many voices of dissent, insisting that he continue onwards. I heard: "You can make it!", "It's only another ten miles!", and my favorite, "Those gas meters aren't really accurate you know – they make them for women!". We pressed onwards.

A few minutes later, the driver confessed that he, in fact, had no idea where the train station was. This prompted another chorus of loud complaints and heated debates on the best way to go. I closed my eyes and waited for the yelling to stop.

We did make it to the station, and like a taxi cab filled with clowns, the nerds exited the van in a mad rush for an approaching train. I was the last one out, and tried to give a heart-felt thanks to the driver, who looked a bit worse for wear. He nodded and drove off, probably in search of a gas station. To those drivers (and last-minute drivers) out there, I salute you for putting up with us nerds.

These Aren't the Fanboys You're Looking For

Rather than spend last Friday night drinking like a good, upstanding individual, I opted instead to go to a "video game pre-release event" at the artist-formerly-known-as-Sony Metreon in downtown San Francisco. Really, what the heck was I thinking.

Companies occasionally like to promote their upcoming games to rabid fans with these sort of events where a bunch of nerds obediently stand in line, hoping to get a chance to play an upcoming game, and otherwise demonstrate their fanboy resolve. I've never gone to one of these marketing-laden hype-fests, probably for good reason, but I figured that this particular game (made by We-Killed-Sonic Sega) was so obscure, that I might be the only one at the event. I was wrong, but only off by about 40 people.

I arrived about ten minutes late at the Sony Playstation store, saw a line, and got in it. I asked the person in front of me what the deal was, and he responded, enthusiastically, "I don’t know man, I just got here myself!" Fortunately, an unusually perky saleswoman showed up a couple minutes later to explain that I was in the correct line for the event, and that everyone in line would get the privilege of having something autographed by the game's producer (eh?). She then handed me a large stack of large "Sega" stickers (I still have no idea what I’m supposed to do with these) and vanished.

I waited for about 15 minutes as the line slowly shambled forward. Several people queued behind me, including a father-daughter pair (I suppose it was a family-friendly event). A quick look around verified that 90% of the people there were young Asian males in glasses, so I blended in well. Eventually, I got to the head of the line, where I could finally see what everyone was waiting for (apologies for the horrible picture).



Yes, I think that is some cosplay woman on the left. At least, it seemed like the employees at the store didn't know her. Maybe she came with the guy who was signing autographs, who was some producer I've never heard of. Maybe she just forced her way into the store with that plastic gun of hers.

Anyway, I got a signed game cover (for a game I cannot even purchase for another month or two) and a plastic grenade. Whoopee. Oh, and some raffle ticket for various items I did not win, or otherwise lacked the patience to hang around for three hours to find out if I won or not.

The evening was not a total loss, as I got to actually play the game for a bit, which was my actual objective. It was interesting, probably because it didn't have any references to hedgehogs, of any color. Also, I got the opportunity to roam around the Metreon for a bit, and found it more abandoned and lifeless than ever before, populated mostly by glum-looking security guards who, with subtle head-nods, convinced me to go about my business somewhere else.

Craigslist Advisory --- Avoid Scams by Trusting No One

I recently won a cell-phone in a contest. It's one of those large "smart phones" that has a tiny keyboard, and runs a tiny version of Windows, along with a tiny version of Microsoft Office. Since it was unlikely that I would ever need to edit Excel spreadsheets on the go, and since I already have a perfectly good cell-phone, I decided to sell it.

Amazon doesn't let you re-sell cell-phones on their reseller marketplace, and lately Ebay seems to be a place fraught with peril, so I decided to try my luck and use Craigslist. I posted a simple notice with information on the phone and my price, and crossed my fingers.

Within a few hours, I had roughly thirty different emails asking about the phone. They ran the gamut from well-worded inquiries with contact information, to gems like:

"i wanna buy the blackjack 2 u posted on craigslist"

I contacted the first person to respond, and we agreed upon a time and place to meet. Craigslist advises meeting in a public place, so if "Krystal" turns out to be twelve large guys who plan to steal your merchandise, at least you can entertain passers-by with your public beating.

In my case, the transaction went surprisingly smoothly. The buyer gave the phone a cursory examination and then handed me a large wad of cash. I verified the amount and we went our separate ways. I was not subsequently followed by thugs looking to liberate me from my money, but had I been, the joke would have been on them, since I almost immediately gave all the money to a nice man on the street playing three-card-monte and told him, "I'll be back for this later." I kid.

I still find it odd that anyone would be willing to hand over a large wad of cash to someone they knew only through two lines of text posted on Craigslist, but perhaps this is the way things are done nowadays, and I’m an old coot that needs to learn to embrace these newfangled ways.

It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by the internet.

It's time for more embarrassing admissions. About twelve years ago, out of sheer boredom, I wrote an "Interactive Fiction" game. If you’ve never heard of the term "interactive fiction", it’s a game that's text-based and involves you reading and responding to gripping sequences like the following:

Darkness

It is very dark in this non-descript room. You are probably going to fall down and hurt yourself if you're not careful.

> TURN FLASHLIGHT ON

You don't have a flashlight.

> INVENTORY

You are carrying a pack of gum, a weighted companion cube, a MacBook Air, and a match.

> LIGHT MACBOOK AIR WITH MATCH

The MacBook Air, surprisingly, catches on fire immediately and quickly burns into ash.

> SCREAM "ARHG"

Your yelling attracts Steve Jobs out of the darkness. Steve notices the remains of the MacBook Air, and berates you mercilessly until you keel over.

YOU HAVE DIED.

The game I wrote was an homage to the Infocom-written "Zork" games that were popular long ago, so it was filled with in-jokes, meaningless references to other Zork games, and the like. If you want to embarrass me further, you can now actually play it in your web-browser here (Java required, and the page is a bit flakey -- I had to type in "RESTART" at the prompt):

http://library.thinkquest.org/19837/cgi-bin/playing.cgi?adv=spirit.z5

but be warned, it's really cheesy. Seriously.

Anyway, at the time I wrote the game, there was a small but thriving online community of people writing and critiquing each others' games. I'm not certain this community even exists anymore. I released my game into said community with little fanfare, and got a handful of emails pointing out the various spelling errors, bugs, and logic flaws in my game puzzles. I gave up my dream of winning the Interactive Fiction Pulitzer, and turned my boredom towards other pursuits.

Recently, for some reason, I did a Google(tm) search for the game, and uncovered a bunch of relevant links, including (to my amusement) a set of maps someone had drawn for my game. The maps are remarkably good. Here’s an example:



Compare this to the actual maps I drew in a notebook when I was actually writing the game:



No, the picture isn't out of focus. My writing really is that illegible.

The point to take away from all of this is that the guy who did these great maps apparently made them last year. I had to search through piles of archived stuff to even find the notebook for that last picture (and was honestly surprised when I found it). Stuff that happens on the Internet apparently stays on the Internet. Forever.

Will Someone Please Call Security

Today I visited the "Apple Compatibility Labs" in the Apple campus in Cupertino, CA. If you are a paying member of Apple's "Developer Connection", you are allowed to visit this lab, free of charge, and use their rather large collection of Mac computers for whatever nefarious purpose you see fit.

They have several labs in the main building -- I was placed in one called "Field of Dreams". Kevin Costner was not on hand to greet me. The lab itself was impeccably maintained, and filled with models of Mac computers I had never seen before. The lab manager who let me into the lab was particularly proud of this one (apologies for the fuzzy camera-phone pictures):


This is a "Twentieth Anniversary Macintosh", a very limited run machine that was over-priced and under-powered. It now serves as a nice-looking CD player for the lab (in the picture, you can see it sitting on top of a cabinet filled with one of nearly every laptop Apple has ever made). It did have a strange allure, more so than the lonely Mac Cube sitting in a corner. Between doing actual work, I would pass by the "TAM" and try running various bits of it's software. One icon said "Explore the Internet". I should have taken this as a warning, but I clicked on it anyway, and was greeted by this:


Actually, it's even worse than that. That picture is from a second attempt -- the first time I tried "Exploring the Internet", the Internet Explorer splash screen came up, and the entire machine froze. It was as though the machine was embarrassed to have to run an ancient version of Internet Explorer as its default browser. I had to quickly re-boot the TAM while the lab manager wasn't looking.

The rest of my time at the Lab was relatively uneventful. Steve Jobs did not stop by and fire me. I visited the Apple Store and bought some pencils. The only other thing worth noting is the following funny sign in the men's bathroom:


No, I do not know why I brought my camera phone into the bathroom.

I'd Like My CD Back, Please

My second Apple Mac related entry in a week. No, I'm not getting kick-backs from Steve Jobs. Yet.

I recently encountered one of my worst nightmares come true. I had a CD (a fairly important CD) stuck in a slot-loading CD drive refusing to come out. After the initial freak-out phase, followed by trying random, ineffective solutions found on the web, I stumbled upon a solution that was surprisingly effective, that I thought I'd share.

The problem: After attempting to set up my MacBook Pro to triple-boot Mac OS 10.4, 10.5 and Windows XP (don’t do this, by the way. I had to do this for work, but any sane person has no reason to set up their Mac to triple-boot, and it's actually more of a pain to do than I expected), I got to a point where I was running Windows, and tried to insert the Mac OS 10.5 install CD (DVD, really) into the MacBook CD drive. The drive is a slot-loading drive, with a very thin opening, where you have to insert the CD pretty far in for the motorized "grabbing" mechanism to kick in. I pushed the disc in, and only after I had pushed it all the way in, did I realize that, for some reason, the motorized "grab" never triggered at all.

Neither the Mac, nor the CD are mine, so I was in something of a bind. I read several articles on the web for what to do if the CD was sucked in, but could not be ejected, however this was a different case, where the machine thought there was no CD in the drive, when, in fact, there was.

I tried using a tiny pair of tweezers and a flashlight. Don't do this. The slot is tiny, and covered with some sort of fabric to keep out dust. You won't be able to see a thing in there, and you’ll have no idea if the thing you just hit with the tweezers is the CD, or a fragile part of the CD drive.

My second idea was to take another CD, and try and tap the CD the rest of the way in. This didn't work either. However, in doing this, I said to myself, "Self, I wish this CD in my hand was sticky, so the other CD would stick to it."

There was my solution. I took a long piece of scotch tape and wrapped it around the CD, sticky-side out. I then slid the CD into the drive to a point where I guessed it was slightly past the stuck CD, and pressed up and down. I hit pay-dirt, and easily pulled the CD out. It was like fishing, if you used CDs instead of fishing rods and tape instead of hooks. It was nothing like fishing.

Here's a pointless diagram to illustrate this fairly mundane solution even further. No, I do not actually have a Britney Spears CD.



So there you have it. The MacBook Pro and the OS disc are both fine. My boss is none the wiser, unless he is reading my blog.

One More Thing

As many Apple fans had hoped, Apple introduced a new ultra-portable laptop computer today. It's ridiculously thin. It has a nice LED screen. It's environmentally friendly. I'm probably not going to get one.

I've been waiting for Apple to announce a proper successor to the 12" PowerBook for some time now. Sadly, I believe the new MacBook Air isn't it.

For one thing, the hard drive is a potential issue. The default hard drive is an 80Gig 4200RPM drive, a bit on the slow side. A much better alternative is the optional 64Gig solid-state hard drive, but this will set you back a whopping additional $1000, putting the total price of the MacBook Air above the price of a MacBook Pro, or even a low-end Mac Pro.

The thing that kills it for me, however is that the Air lacks a proper graphics card. It uses an Intel integrated video chipset, which, according to some reviews isn't exactly a great performer. Granted, the intended audience is not your average gamer. However, it's somewhat sad when my four year old computer would probably outperform the Air in an average game, even though the Air has a much more advanced CPU and more memory. And remember, the 12" Powerbook did have "dedicated" graphics from NVidia that would also likely beat the Air's integrated Intel video chipset today in average performance tests.

The Air, thus, ends up looking like a really thin MacBook, without a DVD drive. Or, if you buy the solid-state drive model, it ends up looking like a crazy expensive, really thin MacBook, without a DVD drive, that someone will likely attempt to steal from you.

Not that I'm advocating buying a Dell at all, but they do offer a notebook, the XPS M1330, that is slightly cheaper, but has a better CPU, an actual GPU, a DVD drive, and is only about half an inch thicker, and about a pound heavier. So why get the Air? Simple. It comes with Mac OS. Really, that honestly is almost worth the price of admission. Almost.

One more thing. The Dell comes with Vista, which you should factor into the cost, since you'll be spending some quality time replacing it with Windows XP.

The Horrors of Fan Fiction

The blogger sits down at his computer. Faced with yet another week of no content on his blog, he wracks his brain for something, anything, related to the nerd way of life. After his fifth Rum and Coke, it hits him.

"I’ll write a blog entry about fan fiction!" he says.

Clearly, he is desperate. A desperate blogger for desperate times. He calls his only ally in these dark times, Wikipedia. Wikipedia isn't in a good mood, but tells the blogger what he wants to know:

"Fan fiction is normally described as 'fiction about characters or settings written by fans of the original work, rather than by the original creators', however I think an equally accurate description would be 'dreck'. Listen, I have to go, someone is editing the Evolution entry again."

Wikipedia hangs up, and the blogger is left listening to echoes. He still has nothing written, so he decides to procrastinate. He lets his mind wander back to a kinder, more halcyon time a year or two ago when he went to fanfiction.net for some sort of research project that wasn’t embarrassing at all. Surprised that fanfiction.net had categories for everything, including video games, he decided that he would come up with the one game that no one in their right mind would write fan fiction about.

"No one would write a fan fiction story about Tetris!" he said triumphantly, to no one in particular.

Luck was not with our intrepid blogger, however. He found no less than four entries under the Tetris category.

"That was just a fluke," he tells himself, back in the present. "I bet there are still only four entries."

Clearly having not learned anything, he checks fanfiction.net again. He finds no less than 41 entries in the Tetris section. He picks one entry at random:

"I am just an L-block. My life has been pretty simple, really. I would pay my taxes, go to work. I had never really though about meeting any other blocks. But a friend of mine, Mr. T recently got me interested in this online dating service he has heard of - Tetris, it is called. They were holding this get-together function sort of thing in one of the most prestigious joints in town, the Grey Box. So I rocked up, dressed in green."

In a hopeless attempt to save himself from reading the rest of the story, the blogger attempts to stab his eyes out with a pen, but misses and ends up drawing all over his face. As the ink dries, he realizes, he will never finish this blog entry. It is too late. He has already seen the horror, and the horror is he.

Would You Like to Pre-order Fries with that?

There's been a bit of recent internet discussion on the merits (or lack thereof) of something video game stores call "the pre-order". For those of you that don’t know what this is, I'll describe it.

You decide that you want to buy a video game, but it’s not out yet (we'll get to how you figured this out later). Video game stores and some of the bigger retailers will let you "pre-order" the game, meaning you give them some amount of money (typically five dollars, although stores will happily accept more), and then when the game actually becomes available, you can go to the store, pay the difference, and take your game.

Why, you ask, would you want to bother to do this? A very good question. Some stores will tell you, without missing a beat, that if you do not do this, when the game actually does arrive, you might not be able to buy a copy. Most, if not all copies on-hand will be reserved for those who pre-ordered the game.

Well, that's ridiculous, you say. If you mainly stock stuff that people have already pre-ordered, what exactly is the point of having a store, rather than some sort of "pre-order pickup warehouse"?

The typical video game store response would be: "Look, are you going to pre-order, or not?"

I've always believed that the concept of the pre-order is bad for the consumer, all around. Even if we disregard the edge cases in which stores sometimes do not even have the game available for people that pre-order, it is still a bad deal for the customer.

For starters, you're giving the store your hard-earned money (that they are now free to use in whatever manner they desire) for the promise of being able to buy a product later. This is weird to me. I can’t think of any other entertainment product that I would buy in this fashion. Do I have to pre-order books, or movies?

Also, it means that it's up to me to track when games are coming out. It means I now need to pay attention to stuff like "release dates" and plan out my entertainment purchases in advance, using lousy websites to do so. Again, I have never had to do this with other entertainment products. At worst, I realize that a movie is coming out next week, and consider making plans to see it...next week.

The reason stores do this, I've been told, is because it's the perfect way to make sure they stock the store with only games they know will sell. Their goal is to avoid having anything sitting on the shelves for more than a couple days. If 20 people pre-order Game X, they know they should probably order approximately 20 copies of Game X.

This, while efficient for the store, has an unseen downside for the customer. What it means is that you will rarely find anything other than mainstream games in a game store. The obscure games no one knows about, so no one pre-orders them, so the store doesn't stock them.

This last point is very strange to me. In the 1990s, I remember walking into stores like Software ETC, or Egghead Software (remember these?) and being able to browse the games on display. Games had to have flashy box art (or even oddly shaped boxes) and copious descriptions and screenshots on the packaging to compete. On several occasions, I would find something I had never heard of before, that looked intriguing, that I would buy. You can’t really do this anymore, outside of some Mom & Pop shops, or online.

Game stores practice this ultra-efficient process because game stores have to actually buy the games they hope to sell, or so I was told by a producer I worked with at a game studio. Assuming he wasn't pulling my leg, the process goes something like this. The store orders N copies of Game X from the publisher. The publisher charges them some set amount per game. The store receives the games, and prices them at that set amount, plus whatever they hope to make in profit. If the game sits on the shelf and never sells, the store is out whatever amount they paid for it. They can sell it back to the publisher, but always at a loss. Many games, unfortunately, do not age well. A copy of Madden Football 2001, if it doesn't sell some time in 2001, is probably never going to sell at all. Games are also expensive, averaging $50 or more. A ten percent loss on 100 copies of a $50 game is $500, which is roughly the yearly salary of the teenager working the counter at the store (I kid, I kid).

This process may, in fact, differ from how other entertainment products are sold, and as such, it is in the store's best interest to only stock that which they know they can sell. It is partly through this sort of strategic stocking, and partly through various other factors (some which are even more dubious), that places like Gamestop can post a sevenfold increase in earnings this past year.

In the end, stores are just doing what they have to do to stay profitable. It is a business, after all. However, due to the way things work, the customer experience at such stores has definitely become worse, and the industry has become a tougher place for new game publishers and developers. In their race to be profitable, game stores may be alienating the very customers and developers that made their existence possible in the first place.

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.

Cast Iron Forum

As a video game nerd, I often read various web sites devoted to games. You have to have a pretty strong stomach sometimes if you're reading these sort of sites. The writing quality is usually terrible, and the actual content, when you manage to dig through the noise, is along the lines of, "Nintendo releases exciting news that they have no news!" In part, I blame myself, since I used to write articles for such web sites. This is how deep the rabbit hole goes.

What's worse are the various public web forums. While the forums on IMDB.com may win the award (or at least be in the running) for most useless, immature drivel online, game-related forums aren't much better. They're usually populated by angry video game nerds, just waiting for someone to bad-mouth their favorite title.

Which is why I was pleasantly surprised, or at least amused, to recently find a thread on a gaming web forum I visit titled: Cast Iron Skillets. Some gamer nerd was asking his fellow nerds about what to do with a cast iron skillet he recently acquired. He asked:

"I have a filthy skillet and not sure what to do with it. I mean, its FILTHY."

The response on the forum was immediate. I was amazed at how knowledgeable (and passionate) some of these gaming nerds were about cast iron cookware. An example response:

"You IDIOT. The best thing about a skillet is that it gets better with each meal you cook. The skillet absorbs the flavors and powers of the food cooked within, and becomes something more. Something better. I own a skillet that's been passed down the family line since my great grandmother's time. It radiates with the flavor of a thousand dishes. It is one of my most prized possessions. A skillet should not be thrown out. A skillet should last forever. A skillet should be passed to your children."

Following the thread, the original poster decided to provide a picture of said "filthy" skillet. The rest of the forum posters were encouraging, in their own way:

"(Expletive deleted) YEAH that skillet is salvageable. Follow the cleaning instructions in this thread, get some damn Crisco, and fry some (expletive deleted) chicken."

The thread actually went on for pages and pages, so I won't go into more details. But the entire experience opened my eyes to both the secret interests/knowledge of the angry video game forum poster, and, of course, the power of the cast iron skillet. So, the next time you find yourself holding a cast iron skillet and wondering what to make for dinner, remember the sage advice of the angry video game nerds -- warm up the oven, turn on the burner, and fry some (expletive deleted) chicken. And for God's sake, do not try and scrub it clean afterwards with soap!