Yesterday, we walked through a park in Ankarah. We ate at a cafe that had throw pillows and hammocks instead of chairs, then took a walk. I took a few pictures.
We stopped for ice cream about halfway through, and I must say that Turkish ice cream is… chewy. It's not really chewy like gum, and it's not really chewy like a candy bar, it's just, well, chewy. Chewy and delicious.
After the park, we went to an open air market, but by then it was getting late, and most of the vendors had closed up shop. We caught a cab back home, hung out until it got dark, and then went to a carnival. European amusement parks generally have little or no admission cost (this one cost less than a quarter to get into) but charge a fee for every ride or attraction. This means that the more fun you have, the more it costs, but i also means that even on a saturday night you never spend more than a few minutes waiting in line.
Andrea is downright tired of Turkish food lately, and the first week consisted mostly of American food, which they have a lot of here, so these last couple of days were my first experience with Turkish quinine. It consist largely of kebabs, which are very similar to a spit roast. What they do is take a gigantic block of meat, and set it up on a rotating stick, then rotate it in front of a heat lamp. This cooks it at first, then keeps it hot until served afterwards. They slice bits of it right off the stake when you order your food. It's very tasty, and I'm surprised we don't see much of it stateside.
Next weekend, I head to Istanbul, the 4th largest city in the world. With the exception of a day trip to Chicago (on which I didn't really get to see much) I've never actually been in a major city like that, much less a foreign one. Should be interesting.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Travel Journal, Part II
Truly, Amsterdam is an amazing city. We spent two full days plus an evening and a morning exploring the city, and I had a fantastic time.
On our first full day, we spent over ten hours just walking about the city. We saw Vondelpaark, some positively stunning architecture, and more canals than you could shake a stick at. The city is over seven centuries old, and displays architecture from several periods. As you walk from one block to the other, the coloration and style of the buildings vary dramatically. One moment, we were walking past an old Gothic cathedral, all spires and stone slabs, and in the next, we were crossing a cobblestone bridge overlooking a collection of houseboats. In the moment after that, it was rows of brick and mortar apartment complexes. There are also examples of Rennaisance era construction, and because the city loves its history everything is diligently maintained. The canals were also very scenic, especially at sunrise.
The city's layout is something akin to a giant spiderweb of minor roads and canals, and one can easily lose themselves in the maze of alleys and sidestreets. Getting lost was really half the fun, however, so that kind of played in our favor. The city has cars, rickshaws, trains, and boats traveling this way and that, but the favored mode of transportation is the bicycle. Bikers have their own lanes on all the major streets, and they can fit into the small side passages that cars have difficulty navigating. After a while, the city started to feel like a giant bike park.
In Dam Square, near the center of the city, are the living statues. Darth Vader, Batman, that stretchy face dude from Scream, and other recognizable (and sometimes not so recognizable) figures are on display throughout the large plaza. The performers will spend most of their time standing perfectly still, giving the impression that they are indeed lifeless statues. However, if you try to take their picture without tossing a few coins in their jar, they always move at just the wrong moment. I was frustrated by this for quite some time before I even realized they were doing it on purpose. After that, I tried for a little longer, but no matter how far away I stood they always managed to thwart me. It was a little surreal. Eventually, I gave in and parted with a few euros, at which point they enthusiastically posed for a shot. Money well spent, in my opinion.
The culture in Amsterdam is a very laid-back one, and the locals are, for the most part, welcoming and friendly. If you stare at your map for too long, an overly helpful native will try and offer you directions. Presumably, Amsterdam has a criminal element like any other major city, but I felt free to wander the city at five in the morning, and didn't wind up regretting it.
We had been expecting very cold weather, but the sun was out pretty much the whole time, and the weather was simply splendid. The whole trip was a success. Unfortunately, we were so exhausted the second day we were so tired from hiking about that we never made it to the museums we'd planned on seeing, but I had a fine time of it all the same. Besides, if I ever go back, I know there's plenty more to do.
On our first full day, we spent over ten hours just walking about the city. We saw Vondelpaark, some positively stunning architecture, and more canals than you could shake a stick at. The city is over seven centuries old, and displays architecture from several periods. As you walk from one block to the other, the coloration and style of the buildings vary dramatically. One moment, we were walking past an old Gothic cathedral, all spires and stone slabs, and in the next, we were crossing a cobblestone bridge overlooking a collection of houseboats. In the moment after that, it was rows of brick and mortar apartment complexes. There are also examples of Rennaisance era construction, and because the city loves its history everything is diligently maintained. The canals were also very scenic, especially at sunrise.
The city's layout is something akin to a giant spiderweb of minor roads and canals, and one can easily lose themselves in the maze of alleys and sidestreets. Getting lost was really half the fun, however, so that kind of played in our favor. The city has cars, rickshaws, trains, and boats traveling this way and that, but the favored mode of transportation is the bicycle. Bikers have their own lanes on all the major streets, and they can fit into the small side passages that cars have difficulty navigating. After a while, the city started to feel like a giant bike park.
In Dam Square, near the center of the city, are the living statues. Darth Vader, Batman, that stretchy face dude from Scream, and other recognizable (and sometimes not so recognizable) figures are on display throughout the large plaza. The performers will spend most of their time standing perfectly still, giving the impression that they are indeed lifeless statues. However, if you try to take their picture without tossing a few coins in their jar, they always move at just the wrong moment. I was frustrated by this for quite some time before I even realized they were doing it on purpose. After that, I tried for a little longer, but no matter how far away I stood they always managed to thwart me. It was a little surreal. Eventually, I gave in and parted with a few euros, at which point they enthusiastically posed for a shot. Money well spent, in my opinion.
The culture in Amsterdam is a very laid-back one, and the locals are, for the most part, welcoming and friendly. If you stare at your map for too long, an overly helpful native will try and offer you directions. Presumably, Amsterdam has a criminal element like any other major city, but I felt free to wander the city at five in the morning, and didn't wind up regretting it.
We had been expecting very cold weather, but the sun was out pretty much the whole time, and the weather was simply splendid. The whole trip was a success. Unfortunately, we were so exhausted the second day we were so tired from hiking about that we never made it to the museums we'd planned on seeing, but I had a fine time of it all the same. Besides, if I ever go back, I know there's plenty more to do.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Travel Journal, Part I
OK, so that last post was the result of a combination of sleep deprivation, a childlike sense of wonder that somehow survived past the age of 22, and the kind of supreme boredom that only occurs on a nine hour plane ride.
It is currently 1037 AM here in Turkey, and I haven't slept yet. If you ever plan on flying to a country where the time changes by a third of a day, be prepared for as much as an entire week of a completely backwards internal clock. You'd think that one night of staying up late and waking up at a reasonable hour would do the trick. It doesn't.
We're getting up at 6-ish on Monday morning, to fly to Amsterdam, so even if I achieve a decent sleep rhythm between now and then, it's likely to be completely effed up by the crazy early wake up call.
Still, I'm looking forward to the trip. Amsterdam has a lot of really cool things, I hear. Like museums, gardens, and the world's oldest stock-exchange. Should be fun, I'll take pictures.
Ankarah is a gorgeous city. It's dirty and old and smelly, like a lot of American cities, but in a kind of charming way. The city is in a ridiculously hilly region, so walking around can be a bit tricky. If you walk a couple of blocks on one street, you've reached a whole other elevation, which means you can only transfer to the parallel street by walking a few blocks more so that you're at the same level. This makes finding your way around a bit more difficult, but it allows for some truly breathtaking views.
Also, drivers over here be crazy. The dotted lines denoting the various lanes on the road are interpreted by the locals more as helpful suggestions than actual rules. traffic flow seems to resemble a crowd elbowing and maneuvering for position. Cab rides are truly an adventure.
Unfortunately, my first week overseas is turning out to be quite uneventful. The first few days I was so out of it from the timeshift that it's a miracle I was able to stand up straight. The last couple of days we've stayed in, slept at odd hours, and watched movies. I'd worry that I'm squandering a rare opportunity to immerse myself in a foreign culture, but I'm going to Amsterdam in two days.
Not much else to say for the time being. I'll post more when I get back from the 'Dam.
It is currently 1037 AM here in Turkey, and I haven't slept yet. If you ever plan on flying to a country where the time changes by a third of a day, be prepared for as much as an entire week of a completely backwards internal clock. You'd think that one night of staying up late and waking up at a reasonable hour would do the trick. It doesn't.
We're getting up at 6-ish on Monday morning, to fly to Amsterdam, so even if I achieve a decent sleep rhythm between now and then, it's likely to be completely effed up by the crazy early wake up call.
Still, I'm looking forward to the trip. Amsterdam has a lot of really cool things, I hear. Like museums, gardens, and the world's oldest stock-exchange. Should be fun, I'll take pictures.
Ankarah is a gorgeous city. It's dirty and old and smelly, like a lot of American cities, but in a kind of charming way. The city is in a ridiculously hilly region, so walking around can be a bit tricky. If you walk a couple of blocks on one street, you've reached a whole other elevation, which means you can only transfer to the parallel street by walking a few blocks more so that you're at the same level. This makes finding your way around a bit more difficult, but it allows for some truly breathtaking views.
Also, drivers over here be crazy. The dotted lines denoting the various lanes on the road are interpreted by the locals more as helpful suggestions than actual rules. traffic flow seems to resemble a crowd elbowing and maneuvering for position. Cab rides are truly an adventure.
Unfortunately, my first week overseas is turning out to be quite uneventful. The first few days I was so out of it from the timeshift that it's a miracle I was able to stand up straight. The last couple of days we've stayed in, slept at odd hours, and watched movies. I'd worry that I'm squandering a rare opportunity to immerse myself in a foreign culture, but I'm going to Amsterdam in two days.
Not much else to say for the time being. I'll post more when I get back from the 'Dam.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Travel Journal Prologue: Chasing the Sunrise
Back home, it's 11:20 AM. Right now, I'm hurtling eastward in a gigantic metal box, at a speed which I can't properly comprehend. I have a window seat, and I'm watching the sun rise over the cloudline. It is surreal. Above, it is still dark enough that the stars are out. As I cast my gaze down towards the cloud, the black tapestry shifts rapidly into a brilliant shade of blue, which in turn gives way to a thin line of orange sunlight. Below that, the clouds still shut out all light. Every few seconds, I realize that these brighter shades have gained a little more ground against the darkness above but against the inky blackness beneath, it will gain not an inch until the sun itself has risen above the clouds. It's like seeing a bizarre rainbow up close. I'm flying into the sunset
It is 1140 now, and the last star is vanishing from my sight. The clouds below remain an impenetrable darkness. I'm waiting for the moment when the sun itself climbs over the edge of the vapor horizon and turns the darkness to a blinding, fluffy white. The line of fire at the cloudline has become much thinner, as the blue sky of day settles in.
1143. The clouds below are turning a very dark blue. You can just barely see their shape if you look close. Every second, their color grows lighter and their shape more definite. Bits of white are appearing at the peaks. Welcome to your life just came on the radio. I've been on an 80's kick at the moment.
1147. The last of the fireline is poking white spikes into the blue sky. Now the plane is turning. By the time the wing recedes, so have these white heralds. The fire is all but faded completely now, but a cap of dark blue still hangs overhead, if you look high enough.
1150. Some of the clouds have become the shade of a dark water. Bits are darker than others, and it reminds of the Missouri River when I'm driving at night. I have to remind myself that I'm tens of thousands of feet in the air to convince myself I'm not looking at a river.
1153. Save for a few scant traces out by the wing, the orange and red colors have faded. The cloudtops have become much more clear, but the remaining traces of darkness continue to obscure any definite shapes. I've still got two hours and forty nine minutes before I reach Munich. I'll get to watch the whole thing.
1156. The clouds are taking shape. The sun itself remains hidden. It may not be visible through my window. Shame. Still pretty.
1158. It is morning now. The sun has more light to shine upon the world, but the clouds are a visible ocean of vapor.
Midnight. The fellow next to me is trying to sleep. I'll steal a few final glances, and then spare him the harsh light. And the window is shut. Damned pretty thing.
1204. OK, that was the last one, now I'll let him sleep.
It is 1140 now, and the last star is vanishing from my sight. The clouds below remain an impenetrable darkness. I'm waiting for the moment when the sun itself climbs over the edge of the vapor horizon and turns the darkness to a blinding, fluffy white. The line of fire at the cloudline has become much thinner, as the blue sky of day settles in.
1143. The clouds below are turning a very dark blue. You can just barely see their shape if you look close. Every second, their color grows lighter and their shape more definite. Bits of white are appearing at the peaks. Welcome to your life just came on the radio. I've been on an 80's kick at the moment.
1147. The last of the fireline is poking white spikes into the blue sky. Now the plane is turning. By the time the wing recedes, so have these white heralds. The fire is all but faded completely now, but a cap of dark blue still hangs overhead, if you look high enough.
1150. Some of the clouds have become the shade of a dark water. Bits are darker than others, and it reminds of the Missouri River when I'm driving at night. I have to remind myself that I'm tens of thousands of feet in the air to convince myself I'm not looking at a river.
1153. Save for a few scant traces out by the wing, the orange and red colors have faded. The cloudtops have become much more clear, but the remaining traces of darkness continue to obscure any definite shapes. I've still got two hours and forty nine minutes before I reach Munich. I'll get to watch the whole thing.
1156. The clouds are taking shape. The sun itself remains hidden. It may not be visible through my window. Shame. Still pretty.
1158. It is morning now. The sun has more light to shine upon the world, but the clouds are a visible ocean of vapor.
Midnight. The fellow next to me is trying to sleep. I'll steal a few final glances, and then spare him the harsh light. And the window is shut. Damned pretty thing.
1204. OK, that was the last one, now I'll let him sleep.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
This was a triumph...
So the grades are in. Three B’s and an A. This was a shock to me, because in one of my classes I was actually afraid I might get a D. I guess I did better on that final than I realized. That, or the prof was feeling exceptionally generous. Either way, it’s over. I officially am done with graduate school. I am the Master. I can fly through time matching wits with the Doctor.
I've written numerous times that this has been a long, hard road, and I'll refrain from further expunging upon that here. Instead, let me simply say:
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I GRADUATED!!! I AM BRILLIANT!!!!! I AM A GENIUS!!!! I AM AN ACADEMIC JUGGERNAUT!!!!! IT'S OVER AND I NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER ANOTHER SEMESTER OF SCHOOL AGAIN!!!!! WAHOOOOOOOOOOO!
*ahem* Excuse me.
Now, I was planning on jumping straight into the job hunt, but a certain… opportunity has come my way that I can’t really bring myself to pass up. Andrea Wimberly, in conference with her fine and upstanding husband, has decided to give me a little graduation present. They’re flying me to Europe for half the summer.
A small, responsible part of me thinks it would be wiser to stay stateside and focus on the job hunt, but seeing as this will probably be the last time until I retire that I find myself with the time and opportunity to just traipse around Europe for weeks at a time, I’ve decided to take them up on their generous offer. Life will be waiting for me when I get back. On June 22nd.
So, basically, I'll see you guys in a month and a half, I'm off to freaking Europe.
Andrea and Carl, you guys rock. I hope someday I can repay the favor.
I've written numerous times that this has been a long, hard road, and I'll refrain from further expunging upon that here. Instead, let me simply say:
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I GRADUATED!!! I AM BRILLIANT!!!!! I AM A GENIUS!!!! I AM AN ACADEMIC JUGGERNAUT!!!!! IT'S OVER AND I NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER ANOTHER SEMESTER OF SCHOOL AGAIN!!!!! WAHOOOOOOOOOOO!
*ahem* Excuse me.
Now, I was planning on jumping straight into the job hunt, but a certain… opportunity has come my way that I can’t really bring myself to pass up. Andrea Wimberly, in conference with her fine and upstanding husband, has decided to give me a little graduation present. They’re flying me to Europe for half the summer.
A small, responsible part of me thinks it would be wiser to stay stateside and focus on the job hunt, but seeing as this will probably be the last time until I retire that I find myself with the time and opportunity to just traipse around Europe for weeks at a time, I’ve decided to take them up on their generous offer. Life will be waiting for me when I get back. On June 22nd.
So, basically, I'll see you guys in a month and a half, I'm off to freaking Europe.
Andrea and Carl, you guys rock. I hope someday I can repay the favor.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Variations on a Zombie Apocalypse
So I've started getting into the L4D mod scene. The one thing I've never liked about Left 4 Dead is that the game, its sequel, and all of its expansions have come out during a time when I've been too busy with work or school to play them. Obviously, I get to them eventually, but by that time everyone I play with already knows where to go, what to do, and has usually worked out some level of strategy.
It's really not possible to experience a map "for the first time" when you've got a guide with you to warn you about all the panic events, direct you to the choke points, and advise you about all the new weapons. Likewise, it's not really practical for everyone else in the group to remain absolutely silent with regards to such advice and strategy, as that's a significant part of the fun. It's like saying "let's all play together, but no talking about the game."
However, between the game's popularity and the devtools that Valve has made a part of their business model from day one, there is a relatively steady stream of user-generated content out there, which means that there's almost always something to do in L4D that I haven't done yet.
Granted, there's a lot of less-than-fantastic mods out there, because, hey, everybody who makes one had to make one for the first time. But if you can sift your way through the mediocrity there is a rather large number of real gems. Here, I'm going to post a brief review of three of them.
A little while back, Dave and I (barely) survived the Night Terror mod for L4D1. The basic story is that you are a child having a nightmare, and the level design and artistic style (a very large number of new textures and models were created) just goes nuts with the concept. The first level has you trapped in Disney World's Haunted Mansion, and as I played through it I recognized several of the rooms. After that, you go through nightmarish re-imaginings of Lord of the Rings, Evil Dead, and even The Adventures of Tintin. What was really fascinating about this was that each level made minimal use of the textures and scenery that we see in the original game. The Aztec temple, the theme park paintings, and the psychedelic skyline are all custom made, and done pretty darned well for a game you don't have to pay for. The haunted mansion has you riding an excruciatingly slow roller coaster during a panic event, the Aztec temple has deadly traps and pitfalls, and... well I'll just let you discover the Lord of the Rings bit for yourself. In the end, I think I enjoyed it a lot more than Dave, because I recognized each and every set piece, which added a fantastic nostalgic flavor to it. Also, the size and frequency of the hordes is significantly amped up, and the Director is somewhat stingy with the supplies. You'd be amazed how different the gameplay becomes when you're forced to ration your ammo.
Silent Hill, another blast from the past that will go right over the heads of those who unfamiliar with the source material, is an obvious labor of love. Easily twice the length of any of the primary campaigns, the haunting hamlet of Silent Hill is faithfully recreated for your playing pleasure, right down to the ashes falling from the sky. A dramatic departure from the L4D that most players are used to, this mod has a heavy emphasis on exploration. Each map has a series items to find and puzzles to solve. None of them are terribly difficult (though some of the solutions are pretty obscure if you never played the game) but since the hordes don't exactly wait politely while you work them out, there is still a bit of a challenge involved. The atmosphere is extremely well done, and the game is aggressively stingy with equipment drops. In the style of classic survival horror, anything better than a pistol is treated as a "reserve" weapon, best conserved for the most difficult fights. The game has some very tense moments and a fantastic atmosphere. The finale, however, was an enormous let-down in my opinion.
No Space 4 Zombies lists itself as only 65% complete, which baffles me because it’s playable from start to finish with very little in the way of bugs. I did find a tank punching me from behind a wall one time, and there was an elevator sequence in which our characters did this weird bunny hop thing, but other than that the level design is solid, the finale is innovative, the panic events are well placed, and textures are well-designed.
While core campaigns are still solid and well-designed in a way that most custom made maps aren’t, the mod community provides an endless supply of newness to Left 4 Dead, and I recommend you all join us.
Mods we plan to play soon:
Dead City 2
Mobstadium
Dead Aboard 2
Dead on Time 2
It's really not possible to experience a map "for the first time" when you've got a guide with you to warn you about all the panic events, direct you to the choke points, and advise you about all the new weapons. Likewise, it's not really practical for everyone else in the group to remain absolutely silent with regards to such advice and strategy, as that's a significant part of the fun. It's like saying "let's all play together, but no talking about the game."
However, between the game's popularity and the devtools that Valve has made a part of their business model from day one, there is a relatively steady stream of user-generated content out there, which means that there's almost always something to do in L4D that I haven't done yet.
Granted, there's a lot of less-than-fantastic mods out there, because, hey, everybody who makes one had to make one for the first time. But if you can sift your way through the mediocrity there is a rather large number of real gems. Here, I'm going to post a brief review of three of them.
A little while back, Dave and I (barely) survived the Night Terror mod for L4D1. The basic story is that you are a child having a nightmare, and the level design and artistic style (a very large number of new textures and models were created) just goes nuts with the concept. The first level has you trapped in Disney World's Haunted Mansion, and as I played through it I recognized several of the rooms. After that, you go through nightmarish re-imaginings of Lord of the Rings, Evil Dead, and even The Adventures of Tintin. What was really fascinating about this was that each level made minimal use of the textures and scenery that we see in the original game. The Aztec temple, the theme park paintings, and the psychedelic skyline are all custom made, and done pretty darned well for a game you don't have to pay for. The haunted mansion has you riding an excruciatingly slow roller coaster during a panic event, the Aztec temple has deadly traps and pitfalls, and... well I'll just let you discover the Lord of the Rings bit for yourself. In the end, I think I enjoyed it a lot more than Dave, because I recognized each and every set piece, which added a fantastic nostalgic flavor to it. Also, the size and frequency of the hordes is significantly amped up, and the Director is somewhat stingy with the supplies. You'd be amazed how different the gameplay becomes when you're forced to ration your ammo.
Silent Hill, another blast from the past that will go right over the heads of those who unfamiliar with the source material, is an obvious labor of love. Easily twice the length of any of the primary campaigns, the haunting hamlet of Silent Hill is faithfully recreated for your playing pleasure, right down to the ashes falling from the sky. A dramatic departure from the L4D that most players are used to, this mod has a heavy emphasis on exploration. Each map has a series items to find and puzzles to solve. None of them are terribly difficult (though some of the solutions are pretty obscure if you never played the game) but since the hordes don't exactly wait politely while you work them out, there is still a bit of a challenge involved. The atmosphere is extremely well done, and the game is aggressively stingy with equipment drops. In the style of classic survival horror, anything better than a pistol is treated as a "reserve" weapon, best conserved for the most difficult fights. The game has some very tense moments and a fantastic atmosphere. The finale, however, was an enormous let-down in my opinion.
No Space 4 Zombies lists itself as only 65% complete, which baffles me because it’s playable from start to finish with very little in the way of bugs. I did find a tank punching me from behind a wall one time, and there was an elevator sequence in which our characters did this weird bunny hop thing, but other than that the level design is solid, the finale is innovative, the panic events are well placed, and textures are well-designed.
While core campaigns are still solid and well-designed in a way that most custom made maps aren’t, the mod community provides an endless supply of newness to Left 4 Dead, and I recommend you all join us.
Mods we plan to play soon:
Dead City 2
Mobstadium
Dead Aboard 2
Dead on Time 2
Friday, May 7, 2010
Cue the Victory Music from Final Fantasy...
And so it is well and truly over. I’m still waiting on my grades, but given the timeliness of some of my professors, I expect I’ll be waiting for a while yet. Bottom line: barring any unpleasant surprises, I’m a graduate school… er, graduate.
I just got back from my graduation ceremony, which was blessedly brief. Some of you may remember a little discussion on how I feel about my campus bookstore. Well, I got one more nasty surprise from them when I went to put on my robe. See, silly me, I just assumed that the woman who got me my robes knew what she was doing, and I was in such a hurry I didn’t even check them. Irresponsible, I know, but I had other things on my mind. Turns out, these robes were sized for somebody who was 4’ 9”. Yeah…
So I looked absolutely comical in a set of robes that looked more like some kind of bizarre zip-up short-sleeved vest than the ceremonial garb of an accomplished academic. With the assistance of some very frantic but dedicated event staff, we managed to track down a spare robe in a back room. This took me half an hour and had me trekking across campus, however, and when I finally had myself sorted out the procession was already about to start. I hiked my (new, better fitting) robes and dashed across the campus, and found myself running directly towards the oncoming procession, which was beginning its march. I dashed aside, down into a parking lot and up some side stairs, and snuck into the back, finding my place in line just seconds before it was time for them to start moving.
A gentleman from the musical program determinedly sang the anthem as if it were the closing piece of Rigoletto. This was followed by a fascinating speech from a representative of the Kauffman Foundation about how entrepreneurs are The Way, The Truth, and The Light while big business that ask the government for subsidies are a bunch of outmoded fat cats that should be burned down and stripped for parts. After that, we walked up, had our picture taken, received (in lieu of an actual degree) a big blue older that contained an advertisement for the alumni folder, stepped down, had our pictures taken again, and then returned to our seats. Opera Man got up one more time to lead us in the alma mater, which (just like my last graduation) most of us never knew existed. The End.
Seriously. Fin. It’s over. I’m all done. Woo hoo.
Almost two years ago, I left my home in St Louis, moved in with my parents, and started graduate school. I didn’t want to do it, but the economy was tanking and all I could find was temp work, which really isn’t solid enough to risk signing a lease. It hasn’t actually been very much fun, but I had a plan and I’ve now seen that plan through to its conclusion.
I’d prefer to hop in my car, head over to STL, and celebrate proper, but I’d have to turn right around and come back Sunday morning, and honestly it makes no sense to waste the gas money for just one night. My parents took me out to a nice dinner, Iron Man 2 is out and I’ll probably catch that tomorrow with the family. For now, though, since none of you jokers seem to be on Steam, I’m gonna pour myself a glass of rum, pop in Mass Effect 2, and go save the galaxy.
I just got back from my graduation ceremony, which was blessedly brief. Some of you may remember a little discussion on how I feel about my campus bookstore. Well, I got one more nasty surprise from them when I went to put on my robe. See, silly me, I just assumed that the woman who got me my robes knew what she was doing, and I was in such a hurry I didn’t even check them. Irresponsible, I know, but I had other things on my mind. Turns out, these robes were sized for somebody who was 4’ 9”. Yeah…
So I looked absolutely comical in a set of robes that looked more like some kind of bizarre zip-up short-sleeved vest than the ceremonial garb of an accomplished academic. With the assistance of some very frantic but dedicated event staff, we managed to track down a spare robe in a back room. This took me half an hour and had me trekking across campus, however, and when I finally had myself sorted out the procession was already about to start. I hiked my (new, better fitting) robes and dashed across the campus, and found myself running directly towards the oncoming procession, which was beginning its march. I dashed aside, down into a parking lot and up some side stairs, and snuck into the back, finding my place in line just seconds before it was time for them to start moving.
A gentleman from the musical program determinedly sang the anthem as if it were the closing piece of Rigoletto. This was followed by a fascinating speech from a representative of the Kauffman Foundation about how entrepreneurs are The Way, The Truth, and The Light while big business that ask the government for subsidies are a bunch of outmoded fat cats that should be burned down and stripped for parts. After that, we walked up, had our picture taken, received (in lieu of an actual degree) a big blue older that contained an advertisement for the alumni folder, stepped down, had our pictures taken again, and then returned to our seats. Opera Man got up one more time to lead us in the alma mater, which (just like my last graduation) most of us never knew existed. The End.
Seriously. Fin. It’s over. I’m all done. Woo hoo.
Almost two years ago, I left my home in St Louis, moved in with my parents, and started graduate school. I didn’t want to do it, but the economy was tanking and all I could find was temp work, which really isn’t solid enough to risk signing a lease. It hasn’t actually been very much fun, but I had a plan and I’ve now seen that plan through to its conclusion.
I’d prefer to hop in my car, head over to STL, and celebrate proper, but I’d have to turn right around and come back Sunday morning, and honestly it makes no sense to waste the gas money for just one night. My parents took me out to a nice dinner, Iron Man 2 is out and I’ll probably catch that tomorrow with the family. For now, though, since none of you jokers seem to be on Steam, I’m gonna pour myself a glass of rum, pop in Mass Effect 2, and go save the galaxy.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
It is 2:30 AM, and I've just finished the second of my three finals. It was an online exam, open book open note.
Now, back in my Westminster days, the phrase "your final will be open book, open note" would generally cause me to laugh, or perhaps ask if I had mistakenly taken the remedial version of the course. Since I became a graduate student, I learned to dread this phrase. It meant that the exam was going to be full of obscure, asinine data and that I would be under an immense time limit. All three of my finals this week will have been open book, open note.
Incidentally, this last final had the advantage of being both available through the internet and concerning the more technical field of computer systems used in accounting. A trend I've noticed: while the internet is full of data, the more "techy" it is, the more likely you're going to find a lovingly crafted and summarized explanation of it on wikipedia. In those rare cases where neither the book nor my notes yielded a quick answer to my question, a google search or a quick run to wikipedia had a high rate of providing me exactly the data I was looking for. I don't want to sound too cocky until I see the score, but I'm confident I'll at least get the B I was aiming for in this class.
My other final, the one earlier today, also went better than anticipated. This was the one that I had really been dreading. I typed a rather lengthy & angsty post about the midterm in this class, which I was only able to get a 70 on. Seeing as that test was half my grade and this final was the other half, I need to perform as well or better in order to scrape by with a C, so I was having kittens right up to the end of the exam. And I if you've never tried to compute the alternative minimum tax owed because of an alternative minimum stock option while defying all laws of biology and nature by giving birth to a litter of felines, let me tell you that it is one complex task.
As the above paragraph indicates, this day has taken quite a bit out of me. But it is over, and tomorrow, while certainly no cakewalk, promises to be substantially less stressful. It's another tax class, but one that I've had markedly less trouble following. My performance on assignments up to this point has almost guaranteed me a grade no lower than a B, and a good final could nudge me up to the A range. I haven't had much time to prepare for this one, but it won't start until 7 PM and now that I've finished my other exam, it's the only priority left before graduation.
So the worst is over, and what's left will follow it shortly. Go me!
Now, back in my Westminster days, the phrase "your final will be open book, open note" would generally cause me to laugh, or perhaps ask if I had mistakenly taken the remedial version of the course. Since I became a graduate student, I learned to dread this phrase. It meant that the exam was going to be full of obscure, asinine data and that I would be under an immense time limit. All three of my finals this week will have been open book, open note.
Incidentally, this last final had the advantage of being both available through the internet and concerning the more technical field of computer systems used in accounting. A trend I've noticed: while the internet is full of data, the more "techy" it is, the more likely you're going to find a lovingly crafted and summarized explanation of it on wikipedia. In those rare cases where neither the book nor my notes yielded a quick answer to my question, a google search or a quick run to wikipedia had a high rate of providing me exactly the data I was looking for. I don't want to sound too cocky until I see the score, but I'm confident I'll at least get the B I was aiming for in this class.
My other final, the one earlier today, also went better than anticipated. This was the one that I had really been dreading. I typed a rather lengthy & angsty post about the midterm in this class, which I was only able to get a 70 on. Seeing as that test was half my grade and this final was the other half, I need to perform as well or better in order to scrape by with a C, so I was having kittens right up to the end of the exam. And I if you've never tried to compute the alternative minimum tax owed because of an alternative minimum stock option while defying all laws of biology and nature by giving birth to a litter of felines, let me tell you that it is one complex task.
As the above paragraph indicates, this day has taken quite a bit out of me. But it is over, and tomorrow, while certainly no cakewalk, promises to be substantially less stressful. It's another tax class, but one that I've had markedly less trouble following. My performance on assignments up to this point has almost guaranteed me a grade no lower than a B, and a good final could nudge me up to the A range. I haven't had much time to prepare for this one, but it won't start until 7 PM and now that I've finished my other exam, it's the only priority left before graduation.
So the worst is over, and what's left will follow it shortly. Go me!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Critique of a Critique
WARNING! I'm gonna go off on a rant here. Seriously, this post is nearly 2,000 words. DO NOT PROCEED UNLESS YOU'RE REALLY REALLY BORED!
So some of you may have read Mr. Ebert's recent blog post reiterating his stance that video games cannot be a form of art. As anyone familiar with me can predict, I am... perturbed by such a proclamation. What follows is a purely cathartic rant, posted here exclusively for my own satisfaction. It serves its purpose in that I felt better after writing it all down. Part of me wants to shout it from a rooftop, but another, more sensible part of me acknowledges that even if it didn't get me sectioned, nobody else really cares. I guess what I'm saying here is, don't bother reading this unless you've just got absolutely nothing better to do with your time.
First, as the first commenton on your blog pointed out (and I really do say this with respect) you just don't get it. Your comments on Braid were based on its part in a 15 minute presentation. This is the rough equivalent of damning a theatrical play after viewing a photograph of it. Video games have the unique disadvantage of needing to be played in order to be experienced. Any attempt to voice an opinion about a video game without having played it is an exercise in futility. Many people don't care much for paintings. If you drag them to a museum and point their heads at one, they might nod and say "OK, that's pretty good" but they won't really be touched by the artwork the way others can be. The same can be said for plays and movies, and the more effort it takes to experience a work of art, the smaller its core patronage gets. Video games, requiring an investment not only of many hours, but also a suspension of disbelief that few people can muster if they didn't grow up playing them, may very well be beyond your ability to understand.
Next, you repeatedly assert that there has never been a game that can be compared with the timeless poets and authors and movies. You are basing your argument on a logically unassailable position. No game can pass the test of time required to share a shelf with those classics because no game has been around long enough to be subjected to it. I would note, however, that many games have remained popular long after they stopped being contemporary. 15 years after first being published, I still hear people speak fondly about Super NES's Legend of Zelda. Like the cave drawings in your article, it was constructed with crude tools by comparison to today's technology; but just like an elaborate sidewalk chalk drawing, it is still more than capable of expressing the creativity and passion of those who worked on it.
Perhaps most telling is that you seem to completely overlook the impact video games have had on other forms of art. To understand this, first consider the manner in which movies blend the art of acting with the art of music. Marlin Brando portraying the Godfather was art, sure, but think bout how much that music helped. How much better were some of those scenes than they would have been if carried out in silence? What's interesting here is that the music that fits so well into those scenes will frequently never work as a standalone musical number. How many people would have fallen in love with "La donna รจ mobile" if the world had never seend Rigolleto? These are examples of how one art form bolsters another. The art of telling a story with actors created a need for a specific kind of music, one that never would have come to be otherwise.
Now consider a man named Nobuo Uematsu. He was working part-time in a music rental shop, hopping from one amateur band to another, and composing the occasional commercial jingle. He had a buddy at a failing software firm, who asked him to compose some game music. He like the job because it was a "side job," and was a way to make some extra cash that didn't get in the way of his exciting career in music rental. This firm, sadly, didn't do well. Before long, they ran out of money, and were faced with the prospect of closing their doors. They decided to go out with one last hurrah, and as this was their last chance to fulfill the dream they'd all had of making video games, they jokingly dubbed it the "Final Fantasy." Uematsu composed every virtually piece of music that ever appeared in a Final Fantasy Game until he left the company after Final Fantasy 11. Obviously, Final Fantasy 12 and 13 still use all of his old classics.
What was really fascinating here is that when Uematsu made these early contributions to what would eventually be a lifetime of achievement, he was severely restricted. The NES had a very limited number of variables, which left him with only a handful of sounds that could be used for tracks of only a relatively short length. Worse still, he was give the onerous task of crafting relatively short musical numbers that would cycle back to their start at the end and could be looped for as long as it took the player to find his way through the cave or dungeon or whatever they were exploring. Think of it as being asked to create a version of The Song that Never Ends that can be played for an hour without driving its listener mad. Uematsu had to use rudimentary tech to create music that evoked a certain sense of wonder but was unobtrusive enough to be considered "background noise." This is a concept that is unlikely ever to have been so thoroughly explored outside of a video game.
Likewise, consider the abominations we gun down in Left 4 Dead. Or perhaps the colorful and surprisingly detailed boss monsters of Zelda. Or the sprawling behemoths that must be scaled in Shadow of the Colossus. All works of art unlikely to be called for outside of the video game genre, but bold contributions nonetheless.
I could go on, but I've written a brief novel already. Instead, I'll conclude with only one more drawn-out example. Consider the following scene, from Modern Warfare 2. Spoilers, if anyone cares.
The place is Washington DC. It's the not to distant future. After a series of events, Russia has launched a blitzkrieg invasion of the United States. The first battle of the war has been raging for more than 24 hours. The Americans fight bravely, but so do the Russians, and the latter has more manpower. In a desperate move, and British black ops team has hijacked a nuclear submarine and detonated one of its warheads above the city, creating an EMP shockwave that has shut down every electronic device in the city. It's the middle of the night. Street lamps, night vision goggles, and even flashlights have stopped working. The only illumination comes from the fires burning all around the city, and the occasional flash of lightning. Helicopters are literally raining down from the sky. Aside from these sounds, an eerie silence has fallen around the city.
One beacon shines brightly throughout all of this. Somehow, the White House still has power. It is the only building in the city that has lights, and therefore the natural high ground. With no orders anyway, your squad makes for the White House, and begins a harrowing fight through its narrow hallways. While preparing to storm a heavily occupied radio room, the equipment inside suddenly springs to life with chatter from the higher-ups. Lacking word from any of the US forces since the city went dark, the military brass has made the decision to pursue a scorched earth policy, rather than allow all the secrets in Washington DC to fall into enemy hands. The planes are en route. Any surviving US forces able hear the message are ordered to secure what buildings they can, and deploy green smoke on the rooftops. You have only minutes until the plane arrives.
What was a slow, tedious war of attrition to control the rooms and halls of the White House is now a race against time. Enough US forces are working the other areas of the building, but between your squad and the roof are several well-defended choke points, and you can no longer take your time in getting past them. The fighting is intense, and as you reach the staircase to the roof, you can already hear the planes approaching. You and your squadmate ignite your green flares, and race tot he roof as fast as you can, only to find an F-17 streaking right at you, missiles armed. Its pilot sees you at the last second, and the plane pulls out of its dive. Exhausted, you fall to your knees. Looking up from your prone position, you see the green smoke rising from the rooftops across the city, implying that it remains in US hands.
The point is this: if you haven't been following the story so far, or approach MW2 from the perspective of "hur hur, let's shoot things," then this sequence is just a generic bit of patriotic machismo and a fine bit of "wiz-bang shooty fun." However, if you are one of those people who can utterly suspend disbelief and permit a game to simply suck you in, this is in fact a very emotional scene. In the grand scheme of things, the whole event is really just tragic, as neither the Americans nor the Russians are actually bad people (Russia was responding to what it genuinely believed to have been a preemptive strike by the Americans) and nobody on either side actually deserved to die. However, while the game does give the player a notion of how things played out on the grand scheme, this scene is shown through the eyes of a simple soldier, and from that narrow viewpoint, where things are so much simpler, it was a shining vision of a brave and determined people defending their homeland; which it was. But if the player can't place themselves inside the mind of said soldier, then it really will just be one of a thousand FPS shooting sprees.
Which brings me to the conclusion. There are some people who can look all day at The Mona Lisa and just never really get it. There are some people who can sit through Don Giovanni and feel nothing but boredom. And because video games require a greater commitment to the experience than any other art form on earth save a very long novel, there are going to be many people who simply never really get it. And that's OK. That's exactly why we have so many different forms of artistic expression. A little something for everybody.
But Mr. Ebert, with deference to your noteworthy expertise on the subject of artistic expression, I would humbly contend that you were simply too late to this party. Video games are a fundamental departure from artwork as you have known it your entire life, and for that reason, you just don't get it. You lack a true understanding of the art form, and because of this, your opinion of video games should not carry the same professional weight as would your critique of movies, paintings, music or plays.
So some of you may have read Mr. Ebert's recent blog post reiterating his stance that video games cannot be a form of art. As anyone familiar with me can predict, I am... perturbed by such a proclamation. What follows is a purely cathartic rant, posted here exclusively for my own satisfaction. It serves its purpose in that I felt better after writing it all down. Part of me wants to shout it from a rooftop, but another, more sensible part of me acknowledges that even if it didn't get me sectioned, nobody else really cares. I guess what I'm saying here is, don't bother reading this unless you've just got absolutely nothing better to do with your time.
First, as the first commenton on your blog pointed out (and I really do say this with respect) you just don't get it. Your comments on Braid were based on its part in a 15 minute presentation. This is the rough equivalent of damning a theatrical play after viewing a photograph of it. Video games have the unique disadvantage of needing to be played in order to be experienced. Any attempt to voice an opinion about a video game without having played it is an exercise in futility. Many people don't care much for paintings. If you drag them to a museum and point their heads at one, they might nod and say "OK, that's pretty good" but they won't really be touched by the artwork the way others can be. The same can be said for plays and movies, and the more effort it takes to experience a work of art, the smaller its core patronage gets. Video games, requiring an investment not only of many hours, but also a suspension of disbelief that few people can muster if they didn't grow up playing them, may very well be beyond your ability to understand.
Next, you repeatedly assert that there has never been a game that can be compared with the timeless poets and authors and movies. You are basing your argument on a logically unassailable position. No game can pass the test of time required to share a shelf with those classics because no game has been around long enough to be subjected to it. I would note, however, that many games have remained popular long after they stopped being contemporary. 15 years after first being published, I still hear people speak fondly about Super NES's Legend of Zelda. Like the cave drawings in your article, it was constructed with crude tools by comparison to today's technology; but just like an elaborate sidewalk chalk drawing, it is still more than capable of expressing the creativity and passion of those who worked on it.
Perhaps most telling is that you seem to completely overlook the impact video games have had on other forms of art. To understand this, first consider the manner in which movies blend the art of acting with the art of music. Marlin Brando portraying the Godfather was art, sure, but think bout how much that music helped. How much better were some of those scenes than they would have been if carried out in silence? What's interesting here is that the music that fits so well into those scenes will frequently never work as a standalone musical number. How many people would have fallen in love with "La donna รจ mobile" if the world had never seend Rigolleto? These are examples of how one art form bolsters another. The art of telling a story with actors created a need for a specific kind of music, one that never would have come to be otherwise.
Now consider a man named Nobuo Uematsu. He was working part-time in a music rental shop, hopping from one amateur band to another, and composing the occasional commercial jingle. He had a buddy at a failing software firm, who asked him to compose some game music. He like the job because it was a "side job," and was a way to make some extra cash that didn't get in the way of his exciting career in music rental. This firm, sadly, didn't do well. Before long, they ran out of money, and were faced with the prospect of closing their doors. They decided to go out with one last hurrah, and as this was their last chance to fulfill the dream they'd all had of making video games, they jokingly dubbed it the "Final Fantasy." Uematsu composed every virtually piece of music that ever appeared in a Final Fantasy Game until he left the company after Final Fantasy 11. Obviously, Final Fantasy 12 and 13 still use all of his old classics.
What was really fascinating here is that when Uematsu made these early contributions to what would eventually be a lifetime of achievement, he was severely restricted. The NES had a very limited number of variables, which left him with only a handful of sounds that could be used for tracks of only a relatively short length. Worse still, he was give the onerous task of crafting relatively short musical numbers that would cycle back to their start at the end and could be looped for as long as it took the player to find his way through the cave or dungeon or whatever they were exploring. Think of it as being asked to create a version of The Song that Never Ends that can be played for an hour without driving its listener mad. Uematsu had to use rudimentary tech to create music that evoked a certain sense of wonder but was unobtrusive enough to be considered "background noise." This is a concept that is unlikely ever to have been so thoroughly explored outside of a video game.
Likewise, consider the abominations we gun down in Left 4 Dead. Or perhaps the colorful and surprisingly detailed boss monsters of Zelda. Or the sprawling behemoths that must be scaled in Shadow of the Colossus. All works of art unlikely to be called for outside of the video game genre, but bold contributions nonetheless.
I could go on, but I've written a brief novel already. Instead, I'll conclude with only one more drawn-out example. Consider the following scene, from Modern Warfare 2. Spoilers, if anyone cares.
The place is Washington DC. It's the not to distant future. After a series of events, Russia has launched a blitzkrieg invasion of the United States. The first battle of the war has been raging for more than 24 hours. The Americans fight bravely, but so do the Russians, and the latter has more manpower. In a desperate move, and British black ops team has hijacked a nuclear submarine and detonated one of its warheads above the city, creating an EMP shockwave that has shut down every electronic device in the city. It's the middle of the night. Street lamps, night vision goggles, and even flashlights have stopped working. The only illumination comes from the fires burning all around the city, and the occasional flash of lightning. Helicopters are literally raining down from the sky. Aside from these sounds, an eerie silence has fallen around the city.
One beacon shines brightly throughout all of this. Somehow, the White House still has power. It is the only building in the city that has lights, and therefore the natural high ground. With no orders anyway, your squad makes for the White House, and begins a harrowing fight through its narrow hallways. While preparing to storm a heavily occupied radio room, the equipment inside suddenly springs to life with chatter from the higher-ups. Lacking word from any of the US forces since the city went dark, the military brass has made the decision to pursue a scorched earth policy, rather than allow all the secrets in Washington DC to fall into enemy hands. The planes are en route. Any surviving US forces able hear the message are ordered to secure what buildings they can, and deploy green smoke on the rooftops. You have only minutes until the plane arrives.
What was a slow, tedious war of attrition to control the rooms and halls of the White House is now a race against time. Enough US forces are working the other areas of the building, but between your squad and the roof are several well-defended choke points, and you can no longer take your time in getting past them. The fighting is intense, and as you reach the staircase to the roof, you can already hear the planes approaching. You and your squadmate ignite your green flares, and race tot he roof as fast as you can, only to find an F-17 streaking right at you, missiles armed. Its pilot sees you at the last second, and the plane pulls out of its dive. Exhausted, you fall to your knees. Looking up from your prone position, you see the green smoke rising from the rooftops across the city, implying that it remains in US hands.
The point is this: if you haven't been following the story so far, or approach MW2 from the perspective of "hur hur, let's shoot things," then this sequence is just a generic bit of patriotic machismo and a fine bit of "wiz-bang shooty fun." However, if you are one of those people who can utterly suspend disbelief and permit a game to simply suck you in, this is in fact a very emotional scene. In the grand scheme of things, the whole event is really just tragic, as neither the Americans nor the Russians are actually bad people (Russia was responding to what it genuinely believed to have been a preemptive strike by the Americans) and nobody on either side actually deserved to die. However, while the game does give the player a notion of how things played out on the grand scheme, this scene is shown through the eyes of a simple soldier, and from that narrow viewpoint, where things are so much simpler, it was a shining vision of a brave and determined people defending their homeland; which it was. But if the player can't place themselves inside the mind of said soldier, then it really will just be one of a thousand FPS shooting sprees.
Which brings me to the conclusion. There are some people who can look all day at The Mona Lisa and just never really get it. There are some people who can sit through Don Giovanni and feel nothing but boredom. And because video games require a greater commitment to the experience than any other art form on earth save a very long novel, there are going to be many people who simply never really get it. And that's OK. That's exactly why we have so many different forms of artistic expression. A little something for everybody.
But Mr. Ebert, with deference to your noteworthy expertise on the subject of artistic expression, I would humbly contend that you were simply too late to this party. Video games are a fundamental departure from artwork as you have known it your entire life, and for that reason, you just don't get it. You lack a true understanding of the art form, and because of this, your opinion of video games should not carry the same professional weight as would your critique of movies, paintings, music or plays.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
