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.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Saturday, November 24, 2007
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.
"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.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
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
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
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
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.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
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".
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".
Friday, August 31, 2007
Roll to save vs "End of Month"
With the recent release (PDF) of the new "4th 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.
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