Recently I was cleaning my room and I came across a box that I haven’t unpacked since my move last July. In it were random odds and ends and some toys that decorated my last apartment. One of these toys was my ED-209 from 1989, a toy made by Kenner that was based on the cartoon that was based on the original Robocop movie.
The world of Silent Hill 2 is defined by James Sunderland. He’s fixated on sex, so he is attacked by fetish nurses. His search for his dead wife is all he has to live for, so the roads out of town have collapsed, blocking him inside, giving him purpose. The player is party to his subjective vision: He sees what James sees. If James’s character is reluctant to abandon his search and return home, then the player is made to feel that, too.
There’s no conversation more boring than the one that hashes out what’s wrong with massively multiplayer online games. Everybody has an opinion, based mostly on having played one or two or a shit-ton. I tend to take these game design critiques with a dump truck of salt. Gamers only know what they want. And often that desire is what makes the game fun. Designers, on the other hand, I am terribly interested in how they think they can save the MMO. Back in 2007, I went to a conference for independent MMO designers. I was somewhat amazed to meet a
Two things I dread: decreasing the signal-to-noise ratio and being dishonest about how complex the world is. Both of these are pretty paralyzing to a writer. Writing is violent. To write about something you have to cut away all the things that can’t be written down, rip it away from all the things you don’t notice and all the things you don’t know how to capture. Then, if you’ve managed to get your hands on anything, if there’s anything left, you begin to pick it apart. Editors, how-tos, the voice inside your head, everyone tells you to find the essence,
I just watched Ghostbusters again, for the umpteenth time. It’s just as funny as it ever was, but now there is a hint of sadness mixed in as well. Harold Ramis had an astounding career beside Ghostbusters, but that is the movie I will always go back to. I always identified with Egon. It is strange to see him on the screen, to hear his deadpan voice and to also know he’s passed on. It doesn’t seem right.
The following is the latest in a series of journal entries chronicling the author’s descent into next-gen gaming degeneracy and assorted geekery – from getting his first television in years to trying to figure out why the @$@$&@@ you need two goddamn directional pads just to walk down an effing hallway.
