The Gameconomist

Time Capsule

2012-01-03T20:45:00.003-06:00

Imagine, if you will, the unwinnable. One of the most undesirable outcomes if there ever was one. Yet some would use it as a shield. A defense mechanism? No no. A time capsule. Not this time. It's the preservation of what was, holding the instant still while the world whooshes past. Not the past. Now. Time becomes a blur of places, people, events; time is measured by the hour hand instead of the calendar. This time capsule encapsulates a memory. You can't take it away.

It creates the most deceptive of shrouds: failure. Failure is the object of a time capsule. You will give up. People strive to achieve, to know, to understand. Some people kill in order to stop this. Others construct walls, hide in corners, descend to the deepest pits known and sometimes hide in plain sight. The time capsule creates the feeling of failure for those the capsule shields and those that try to open it. You never wanted to open it. The defense is to make outsiders fail no matter what. But the feeling of failure in the intruder is not the greatest aspect of the machine. No one can help. The trickiest part of the time capsule is the feeling of failure in its inhabitant. Instilling in its subject that all who attempt to open it fails, another notch is scratched into the wall. He left because it was too hard. The more notches, the harder it is to leave the capsule. If they aren't strong enough to open it, what are you? I can't trust them to save me.

Deeper into the time capsule, deeper than it appears. Deception upon deception, this contraption is built. The most tragic effects are saved for what's inside. This is the only time that mattered. That moment in time can never really be regained, and each passing year adds a layer of distortion to time. Distortion to the event, distortion to recollection, distortion to the watch on your wrist. They all failed, and I'll die alone remembering this. Even worse, it's self-reinforcing. The mind-set isn't that it's tragic; the torture is that it's love. No one can understand what you had, and everyone who attempted failed miserably because of your time capsule. Your savior, and your demise, is the capsule. If I leave, it's all lost.

If I leave, I'm lost.

The Goliath Fable, Part I

2011-12-28T12:28:00.000-06:00

Jento, a man of years beyond that of most in the union, had not lived a colorful life. Sure, there was excitement, adventure, and romance, but that did not qualify as a fabled existence. Not by his compatriots and especially not by his ancestors. The need for desperate heroes had long passed, a number of years measured not by tree rings but by echoes that can only be heard when one is listening for them. The old man had made a living out of the myths he spun, telling tales of intrigue and characters not fathomed by new generations. Jento had heard these tall tales spoken of when he was young, but each had their own mark upon the narrative. For his part, Jento liked to believe that his ancestor really was involved the escapades he is credited with, but one could never be sure with tales such as these.

“Uncle?” Jento heard his niece’s voice down the hall as she stood in the doorway of her bedroom in her nightgown. The precocious 8 year-old often asked her uncle for wild stories of civilizations she could not begin to imagine. On the same token, Jento could rarely let her down.

“Well,” he started as he walked down the hall, “there was a time when Great Grandfather Waylon battled a Golem so large, he was but a nail to its toe!”

Violet looked up as her uncle approached her, letting him pick her up and transport her back to her bed. “Uncle Jento, were the Golems real?” Violet had always doubted the true existence of the creatures, but secretly wanted them to be real.

“Why Violet!” Jento exclaimed, “How could you even think I would lie to you! And about Waylon!” A look of fake shock crossed his face, but he couldn’t hide the grin.

“You lie all the time! You said you stole my nose!” As Jento set her into her bed, she stuck out her tongue at him, teasing.

“Oh, but I did steal it. I’m using it to sniff out candy, my old nose doesn’t remember what it smells like!” Jento let out a laugh after wrinkling his nose and tucked the girl in. “Okay, let me tell you the story of Waylon and the Mountain Golem, the last Goliath to roam the Earth!” The elderly man put on a look of mystery and said “Oh my, are you sure you won’t be spooked?”

“I’m never spooked of Waylon! He’s the best!”

Calvin and Hobbes: Youth Suffrage

2011-12-27T22:01:00.005-06:00

It's always an outrage when someone can't vote. While modern humanitarians posit that "everyone should be able to vote," you'd find the ancient Greeks arguing "everyone should ~~be able to~~ vote." The fight for universal suffrage has been fought around the world throughout history, a value found in many modern states today. One of the battles that hasn't been fought (compared to other demographics) in popular culture is the right for youths to vote. It's true, most of the same states that offer universal suffrage also lend that right to the youth population, but it's generally not a right that's expressed. In fact, of the eligible blocs of voters, youths likely have the lowest proportional turnout. Just ask Calvin.

Or perhaps he's making a different point. Let's not use voting to raise issues about the direction of our country's well-being, I'm just worried about the matters in my purview. The only way to get what I want is to have the right to vote. Calvin means to imply that the very threat of power is power itself. Watch Congress: the threat of filibuster can often resolve partisan debates all on its own. Just like money is a representation of value, the right to vote is a representation of power. Sometimes, however, you must cash in on that right to protect it.
It's a pretty obvious depiction of modern Western culture from a child's perspective. Suffrage was originally intended as a method for citizens to better the lives of their fellow citizens. Voting should be a gateway to propelling a country forward on its common goals. Rather, it was discovered that special interest was a powerful tool to be utilized in this environment, and things became fragmented from there. Truth be told, if the youth of America (or most any other country) banded together and unionized as an organization for their interests, few could really stop them. And why shouldn't the youth fight for their interests? Their interests are the future.
Of course, advising the youth to unionize and use their bloc power is a form of special interest warned against earlier. But when it comes down to it, you've got to fight for something. Everyone has their beliefs, and voting is their way of making that a statement. Vote for your economic views. Vote for your social views. Vote for your loved ones.
Vote for your piece of the pie.

A Rational Fear

2011-11-23T02:39:00.001-06:00

We all fear the machines. A widespread hatred and fear of machines sprang up during the industrial revolution, and still exists today. These days we learn to accept the robot apocalypse in exchange for easier living, and even those who refuse to take part enjoy benefits due to positive externalities. Every human being on Earth is now tied to the machines, our fate is dependent on them, for a variety of reasons. Could they evolve? Mutate? Turn on humans and destroy them without a second calculation? Obviously, yes. But are they really the danger here?

Machines are famously binary. Zero or one. Left or right. And, as some would have you believe, live or die. Machines are designed to be black or white, and eliminate the gray areas. They can make decisions, yes, but at the end of the day, things are binary (which, by the way, is a result of any decision at its core). The truth of the matter is that these binary decisions are predictable, in a way. When it comes to machines, you know it's going to pick either a one or a zero. If it's reasoning, the machines are likely to follow the course that will serve it best, and we can figure out what that is.

Humans, on the other hand, are not binary. At the end of the day, we make binary decisions, but we muck them up with all kinds of irrelevant equations. Think of it this way: machines are rational, they use rational numbers in their calculations. Humans are the opposite, throwing in fractions, imaginary numbers, and symbols that can't even be expressed into situations that, to a machine, are quite clear. When human calculations are over, the original issue no longer makes sense.

So, who really inspires fear? Machines follow an explicit set of rules that (supposedly) cannot be violated. More so, they loyally observe their ones and zeroes to a fault, leading to the previous predictability. Humans? Do not try to figure it out. People make their entire careers trying to figure it out. Machines are going to be a one or a zero and will rationally come to those decisions. Our fleshy counterparts will come to whatever decision they want and back it up with whatever rationalization they want.

A veterinarian once told me that she would treat an aggressive dog over a scared dog any day of the week; at least you know which side of the fence the aggressive dog is on. Who knows how the scared dog will react and what actions it will take to defend itself. At the very least, machines make decisions according to some predictable, established set of regulations, and humans do as they please according to some set of regulations that agrees with what they please.

Somehow

2011-11-22T19:35:00.001-06:00

Somehow we can never seem to find our way,
No matter how blessed we may become in love, friends, family, wealth,
And any other measure we choose to back happiness with.
The consumption of world resources feeds only machines
Instead of human beings.
Machines of flesh and bone, machines of steel and copper wire,
Machines that were bought with your dead children.

Somehow we are told every day to remember history,
Lest we are doomed to repeat it.
And every day that goes by we live and breathe it,
More and more without even realizing.
It's in the air now, a scent, a corruption of perception so invisible
No one seems to notice the same events repeating with different places and people.

Somehow those abused people we rescued all those years ago
Managed to form an empire in the middle of a big, dry land,
Who now feel it's okay to forget history and what was done to them,
Turning their considerable firepower, manpower, and American-backed money
To destroy anyone deemed a threat to the state.

Somehow the only countries not to oppose dangerous, immoral weapons
Are the same ones that manufacture them,
Those that have the most to lose from being attacked by them.
The same ones that profess world peace as the prime cause.

Somehow children of a different color sit in the dirt alley
Hungry and indifferent to Glee's new episode
And who your next elected official will be.

Somehow we have all the necessary resources to solve the problems
And instead we use them to oppress.

Somehow I manage to live day to day without getting sick.

Positively Postmodern

2011-11-06T06:46:00.000-06:00

Take a look at everyday word usage and terms for conditions or opinions. There are motives buried there that have roots in modern artistic and psychological movements. For instance, many people, when expressing their opinion, now specify "I think," or "I feel." This essentially constitutes a statement of a statement, a psychological motion to accomplish a few objectives. The first is to declare your action. The second is to clarify that whatever thoughts are expressed are the views of that individual only, and not of any other parties. The third depends on the exact phrasing of the statement. Starting a statement with "I feel" makes a distinct departure from its cousin "I think" in that the former phrase specifies that whatever is said is a matter of emotion and not of logic, and the reverse is the grounds for the latter prelude. Furthermore, stating how you feel about a subject and specifying that it is indeed your feeling, and yours alone, provides some sort of security blanket for people who are afraid of having their ideas rejected. A statement of feeling would have been a sign of weakness to our own selves a century apart. There's one conclusion from the evolution of self-expression syntax: post-modernism is now the foundation and not the outlier.
While walking through a college campus one day, I came across an advertisement in chalk on the sidewalk. It wasn't the group or the message that caught my attention, but the name of the group. Colleges Against Cancer. The name struck me as slightly ridiculous. The term "Against" seems to me to imply that it's opposing something, and that there's an opposing party involved. Yet you would likely never hear of an organization called Colleges For Cancer, now would you?
Another good example is in moral and political debate. You'll find that someone opposed to abortion isn't referred to as anti-abortion or anything else negative. They are instead called pro-life. And their opponents on the next street? Rather than being anti-life, they are called pro-choice. Here we have two groups, in obvious opposition on almost every ground pertaining to the subject of abortion, whom are both "pro" organizations. This begs the line from the movie Primary Colors; "What, if anything, are you against?" By each group phrasing their stance in a supportive manner, they can more easily disseminate their message in a less threatening way. Rather than saying "We're in favor of limiting a woman's choices," one group can instead state "We support life in any form at any stage of development." This is really just the surface of postmodern influence.
Essentially, all "politically correct" makeovers of words and phrases is due to postmodernism takeover, and there are hundreds of specific examples of these changes. Any time "society" is to blame for a person's actions, the effect of postmodernism is stepping alongside. Things like Attention Deficit Disorder rather than saying Johnny doesn't give a shit about paying attention at school. The transformation in these phrases is meant to be positive reinforcement rather than negative. There's something to be said for positive reinforcement, but we now live in a world where you can be for anything you want and also against nothing. As long as you phrase what you're against in a manner that is positively supportive, you're good to go.
Speaking of which, what do you call someone who's against postmodernism?

Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of Affordable War

2011-10-23T21:41:00.000-05:00

Sergeant Tarkus stood in one of the expansive bays of the warship Retribution, currently orbiting the besieged world of Meridian. Tarkus, a veteran Blood Raven commando, knew little of peace and even less of fiscal politics. The only thing he needed to know was that there was a desperate mission to rescue his Blood Raven brethren, and a sacred code to uphold therein. "What is our approach, Brother Cyrus?" he asked of his compatriot, the scout.
Cyrus continued to peer out the viewport, seemingly unaware of Tarkus' presence or conversation. Slowly he opened his mouth to reply. "We suit up, reload, and drop into the jaws of Hell." Fighting an evil face to face was the only way the Ravens knew of vanquishing things that go bump in the night. "We're expecting heavy resistance. Our favorite kind."
Tarkus reflected on this concept silently, allowing it to gnaw at his brain. "What forces are we dealing with?" The squad had recently won a campaign of bloody and destructive battles covering several planets, and while he would never hesitate in the line of duty, Tarkus also understood the weariness these kinds of actions can have on a man.
"The Eldar have solidified their hold on our manufacturing plants. Intel shows a beast they are referring to as Behemoth Prime," Cyrus replied with his typical dry, cynical tone. "Something around 60 feet tall, weapons unknown. They destroyed the whole garrison."
It suddenly struck Tarkus like an artillery bombardment. "....We have the Retribution, do we not? Why shall we not simply blast this foe into oblivion and be done with it?"
"What? Are you crazy?" Cyrus gazed at Tarkus as if he were mad, stark raving mad.
"Friend, I do not imply our cowardice in the face of immense danger. I urge only efficiency."
"No, no, you don't understand." The scout commander sighed and attempted calculations in his head. "Don't you know how much that costs? Look, we signed up for a Strike Cruiser Data Package with Sprint, and our contract doesn't allow a change in plan for another 1,000 years at the least. The Empire can't afford the overage charges you propose!"
Tarkus now took his turn being shocked. "We're going to risk lives and equipment because of some stupid contract? Cyrus, how can this make sense? Shell that Behemoth to dust!" Tarkus shouted in the echoing bay.
"It does not work that way, Tarkus. Look, we don't get the say in these matters. Let us move on and deploy so we may do our duty." Cyrus grabbed his signature sniper rifle and started heading off.
Tarkus snatched his equipment and began to follow his squadmate to the deployment pods. "Alright, we're grunts, I get that. But here's another thing. Our magnificent drop pods allow us to heal and reinforce damaged squads, transporting new troops to the surface in mere seconds with no penalties. Why don't we ever deploy whole armies in this fashion?"
Cyrus shook his head and continued in his preparations. "I just told you, Sergeant, that our data plan is very specific. Planetside mass troop beaming is only available in the Planetary Assault Data Package, and that costs us $20 a month extra! Do you have any idea how much data is used transmitting digital versions of living beings? Not to mention the lack of reception out here. I got no bars."
"You have got to be kidding me, Cyrus." Tarkus' anger was barely contained now as the revelations rolled through his eyes. "Let's just pay the extra fee and end this debacle!"
"Do you have $20?" Cyrus retorted as he revealed his empty pockets to the elder commander.
Tarkus frowned and looked down, already knowing the answer. "No....no I guess I don't."
"Then it's not as stupid as it sounds, is it?" Latching the pod closed on them, Cyrus and Tarkus readied themselves for the violent descent into the planetary atmosphere, and the even more violent tirade ahead. "Tell you what though," he continued as they departed, "I'm pretty glad we sprang for the Drop Pod Air Freshener Premium."

Relatively True

2011-10-19T07:13:00.004-05:00

The juggernaut that is Wikipedia has grown over the last few years to become the definitive source of information for most people driving around on the highways of the internet. Even if the crowd sourced encyclopedia is not the official source (it almost never is) you can be sure that it was involved at some point, lurking in the shadows. Imagine Wikipedia as the little gremlin living in your closet, always cloaked in darkness. You wonder quietly about the development of the Saturn V rocket systems, and the murmur from the darkness informs you that Werner von Braun was integral, relating design information from its comfortable home. After learning said facts, your adventure continues on to other questions and sources, yet always echoes back to the Wiki gremlin.
Academic institutions denounce Wikipedia as a credible source of information; these contributors have questionable credentials, they insist, and therefore their information is difficult to assess. Rather, drink in this information from the man sitting on the shiny stool in a fancy suit. He studied for 10 years on the topic of rocket engineering and has written dissertations on the powerhouse that is the Saturn V rockets. This highlights just one of many issues raised by the advance of Wikipedia, the issue of credibility. While certainly a worthwhile and valid debate, do not let that issue cloud the institution as a whole. Professors will be the first to tell you that the best information often comes from unlikely sources; first-hand accounts, buried documents, people who lived during that very age. Chances are current researchers on the topic didn't live through the time period, playing catch-up to their older colleagues. The truth is that credentials may or may not indicate a high level of knowledge about a given topic; more accurately, they denote a higher probability of knowledge rather than a binary "does know" or "doesn't know." Degrees infer many things, and these things vary from person to person. Many enthusiasts know just as much as their professional counterparts.
Even more difficult to wade through, there's the issue of absolutes. We're always taught that a fact is a fact is a fact. This is an absolute truth in the universe, it just is. We all know the world isn't that black and white, and that extends just as well to facts. In language, definitions change and grammar shifts over the long term, reflecting a changing culture. The same is true of history and the facts that form it. Look at history books about the same topics written at different times and you may find vastly different presentations before you. Even reading about the same topic at the same time, but written by a different culture could result in the same situation. Is one of the two sources wrong?
The answer rising from the haze is "no." History is a perspective, despite its attempts to categorize things as absolute facts. Certain facts are harder to dispute than others. History books from centuries ago in Europe would likely inform you that the Crusades were successful campaigns fought to preserve the Holy Land for the good of humanity. Current books from the same regions may now tell you that the Crusades were questionable affairs leading to very dismal societal effects, and that they wreaked much havoc and death wherever they went. Perceptions change over time, and our memory is short. Even events fifty years past (a relatively recent time period) will now be remembered much differently than they were at the time (Hiroshima, anyone?).
Wikipedia displays these issues every day and I assert that using this crowd sourced information is not really the source of all academic evil. Facts, like much of everything else, end up being relative. The history presented on Wikipedia often depicts the current societal perception of a given event or topic, and that's not an incorrect way of going about it. The online encyclopedia still retains its position as a valuable source of information, whether or not it may be regarded as official. One may often find interesting information presented there and then continue on to read more about it from "more official" sources. History isn't so much written by the victors as it is the ancestors, an attribute quite obvious given the very nature of history. But maybe that's the simple heart of the issue. We decide what is history and how events are remembered, and future generations will take our memories as well as others' to form their own social memory. Perhaps Wikipedia will be remembered as that kind kitty curled up on your lap, no longer confined to the dark closet.

Not Unforward, O Brave Traveller

2011-10-12T14:10:00.000-05:00

Many people will tell you in a discussion of communication that no two participants have the same methods and expectations of how to convey information. Every person's perception of word definition and sentence structures varies a tiny bit at the foundations, leading to huge gulfs of misunderstanding when words and miles pile up in the thousands. Those same people will tell you that each language has its own difficulties in structure and contradictions, but English is among the most complicated to truly grasp masterfully. Rules of some words do not apply to others, confusingly. These situations lead to the process being more of an art than a science. Proper wordsmiths can use everyday words to transmit information where the raw data itself (the very phrase "the raw data itself" exemplifies one of the difficulties of the English language, since "data" is generally a plural term. The more proper usage should be "the raw data themselves," and leads to a situation where the latter, correct usage ends up being more confusing to readers than the incorrect, informal method.) is not the object of the creator's crusade, but rather the way it is transmitted unto the masses. Particularly for English and other high-use languages, the method crosses dozens of political and cultural boundries, each lending their own corruption to the base of the original language. What a huge, jumbled mess we are forced to wade through each day.

Proof of language's defiance in the face of science is proven relatively and mathematically. Children are taught that double negatives are improper; a slap on the wrist for you, young man. However, much like most any other study, things are not so black and white in the mature world. As pointed out by Zach Weiner, junior high students know that pi cannot be expressed as a fraction, while their professors demonstrate that it can surely be divided by one; tread carefully. A foundational language lesson very strictly bans the use of double negatives, those horrid bastard children of same-sex marriage. And yet, you will tiptoe your eyes past double negatives on a daily basis and question it in the back of your mind, then accept it as an elegant and artful protest of boundries. The great authors always tear down the bricks holding up the tower of linguistics. Though inspiring to rising commoners, beware the influence of linguistic artists, for the rules can only be ignored if you demonstrate some level of mastery.

This situation is not unusual. Not unusual. How does that make sense? "Not unusual" ostensibly represents the same phrase as "it is usual." Do not be mislead, fragile swimmer. One who uses the label "not unusual" did not do so carelessly or without purpose; it is a nuance of communication. "Not unusual" actually means that the subject at hand occurs sometimes, but less frequently than "usual." "Can't not" implies a level of impossibility not present in its counterpart, "can." "You can't not trip over those speed bumps" conveys that any alternative is absolutely impossible, while saying "You can trip over those speed bumps" makes it clear that it's possible, but not necessary.

Prove it with the math. Take the phrase "It is not unusual", and the equation f(x) = X, where f(x) is the subject, and X is "usual." If someone asks about the frequency of an event, one may reply f(x) = X, translating to "that subject frequency is usual." However, the frequency of "unusual" would be mathematically written as f(x) = -X, the opposite of the previous statement. "It is not unusual," therefore, could be f(x) = -(-X), which should mathematically convey the same exact term as "usual." Confusingly, this is not the case. "Not unusual" is implied to occur less frequently than "usual," which means (f(x) = -(-X)) < (f(x) = X). Linguistic double negatives choose to ignore scientific basis, how difficult to comprehend! The nature of X, despite being defined by an absolute, is indeed a relative. When X is taken to mean "can," the expression f(x) = X is not the same term as f(x) = -(-X).

Language cannot be broken into numbers and absolute definitions, a quality that makes it so very difficult yet so highly flexible. The term X in language almost always represents an irrational value, much like pi or i. Attempts to rationalize such matters is time-consuming, relaying marginal costs far above their marginal benefits. Stating that something is "not unusual" is actually not an incorrect corruption of language since one cannot identify linguistic terms from any universal standpoint. These vague double negative usages lend the subject a large degree of flexibility in interpretation, and should be thought of as an art rather than a fact or value. When X means "usual" and f(x) = -(-X), X transforms from an absolutely defined variable of "usual" to a relatively defined variable of "usual." "Not unusual" represents not a value, but a range of values lying between "unusual" and "usual." Ask yourself it you wish to state something as a defined fact or if you would rather express that subject as a vague value that occurs less frequently as its defined counterpart. Do not be unprepared, o brave traveller.

The Lesser Power

2011-09-30T10:39:00.000-05:00

"Master Chief, mind telling me what you're doing on that ship?" Lord Hood hailed in reply.
"Sir," the Master Chief said, "finishing this fight."
This dialogue ends the experience of Halo 2, setting up salvation for humanity in Halo 3. The short sentence uttered by the Master Chief had a chilling affect on many gamers, both exciting them and causing them to curse in frustration at the developer. The huge anticipation led to a groundbreaking release of the sequel, and demonstrating a very powerful narrative technique that is used somewhat too often, but delivers crushing emotional impacts on its consumers. Ask many storytellers and they'll assure you that in this world, less is often more.
Ending a story, or even a segment of a story, on a simple word or phrase builds so much tension that the consumer cannot wait to see what the result of it is. This also holds true at many other points in a story, but almost always occurs at a story's climax. The brief utterance often reveals a eureka moment to the characters as well as the consumers, an edge-of-the-seat moment. The simple, powerful technique of distilling a situation and emotion down to a short revelation sums up the very core of the difficulty narrators have battled with for millennia.
Saying more with less is also a trait drilled into students in education, requiring them to express views under a given word or page count. In their adolescent years these students come to realize that it's more difficult to write one page than it is to write forty pages. Attempting to explain the complex struggle powering Moby Dick in only a few paragraphs frustrates most writers. The task is to give only what information is necessary to convey an idea.
There are further implications through this method. Explaining only the core of a story means almost all of the details are ommitted for the sake of length. Filling in gaps then becomes the job of the consumer, and their imagination creates associations that may or may not have been intended by the original architect. Such a method leads to far more enjoyment for those hungry to understand a story.
The real truth is that expression is not actually about a creator's imagination, but a consumer's imagination. The objective is not simply to tell a reader that 2 + 2 = 4, but allow readers the ability to speculate on how or why, exactly, that occurs. Planting a concept in someone's head is meant to have consumers think about that concept critically and draw their own assocations to the core, which generally remains intact. Creating dialogue about a topic is not only more beneficial to all parties, but also distributes much more difficulty to the creators. Transformation of another person's idea isn't stealing or malicious, it is rather a tribute to the original idea and necessary for everyone to partake in.

Perfection?

2011-09-13T11:06:00.000-05:00

Much is made of intelligence quotients and standardized test scores in our modern age. And as time marches on, this becomes more true and the pressure on those involved more intense. For many kids in the United States facing high school graduation, the ACT and/or SAT exams are a rite of passage and barrier to entry for almost any domestic college program. Some adolescents study hard for up to 24 months prior to the test, some join cram classes focusing on the fundamentals, others study test methodology and yet others study for the monolithic task very little. For most it is thrust upon the teenagers as a number that will come to define their life and many succumb to the stress implied therein.
This huge number, at least for me, was out of 36 on the ACT and was a large portion of the junior year of high school. Those who scored in the high 20s or lower 30s were considered excellent test subjects, allowed to enter almost any program they wished assuming their GPA and/or class standing was mediocre or above. The golden score of 36 was perceived to be obtained only by descendants of Einstein, and those achieving close to it (or, dare I say it, exactly on it) were exalted by their schools and peered at curiously by their prospective college programs. After all, a perfect test score actually tells others less about you than a mediocre score does, especially if you have a perfect GPA or class standing.
A board of university entrance examiners is shuffling through applicant paperwork, and comes across Shirley Wellington's application. It appears she's applying with a top 1% class standing, a 36 ACT, and a more than perfect GPA. Impressive, she would like to become a doctor for Doctors Without Borders. But these perfect scores tell surprisingly little about the applicant. Much of the judgment on this girl's personality will rest on her essay, which will also be eloquently written and just as rigged. The best way for the group to get to know Shirley is only through an interview, really.
Perfect academic standings like this tell someone little to nothing about the person standing behind them. With an ACT score of 36, it's assumed that Shirley knows everything she needs to know about the basic subjects schools teach, and has also mastered the art of test-taking. Schools, especially higher education, is sometimes less based on content and more focused on more difficult arts. The art of learning, for instance. Many programs do indeed teach important content, but students should take away more than knowledge of math. They are expected to understand basic and advanced study methods, group interaction, research, writing, and everything involved in learning and demonstrating knowledge of content. This is the part where many students fall behind. Many can know the content, or test well at the content, but the truly excellent students are the ones that are able to combine the two in a meaningful way. This ability is often not well reflected in a traditional grading scheme and can only be determined by those who administer the student on a regular basis.
The phenomenon is fairly difficult for higher learning institutions to attempt to qualify. If the applicant indeed has excellent standing, GPA, and a perfect ACT score, what does that tell us? That they are master test-takers, or that they are very intelligent and knowledgeable on the topics? Or perhaps both? Perhaps neither, or a measure of luck was involved. The truth is that there are many more questions involved with this issue than with someone who has a fairly good GPA and a high 20s score on their ACT. At least with the second person the panel has some information on their test-taking aptitude, ability in school, and areas the student is weak and/or strong in. Perhaps this applicant scored very, very well in math and only mediocre in reading, a trait they can take to the table when considering their application and direction of study.
Perfection is a troubling quality to deal with, an attribute that tells people less about the subject than you would think. It requires more digging into the depths to find the issues that the tests are supposed to find in the first place. One may discover that perhaps this subject is simply very well versed in completing their little games and tests and less about dealing with people and emotions. The problem with creating a game to enable quantification of personality is that people tend to play the game and ignore what the point of the game is. 36 is always considered a winning score, even at the expense of real knowledge and wisdom.

An Inconvenient (and Scary) Truth

2011-08-27T08:30:00.000-05:00

Ladies and gentleman, I never thought we'd be here, but the time has arrived. And here we are. I ask you, my fellow citizens, what country are we living in? Because I always thought it was the United States of America. The Economist, however, has argued otherwise. Observe. For those too lazy to click, the article surmises that the populations of certain countries will cease to exist given current fertility patterns. But there's something troubling here. Take a look again.

Sure, Germany will see the year 3500. And others will see beyond that year. But will the United States? According to that chart, everyone in the United States is already dead. Can you find them on there? What about before 2010? What conclusions does this lead us to?

What country have I been living in, and who has been lying to me? My eyes are open now.

Nitrous Pelican: Diaspora

2011-08-24T08:13:00.000-05:00

1,1 ˦ The Pelican had seen much; this was the end. The Prophet had said his goodbyes and made his final pilgrimmage across the forsaken rock (the first and not the last). Earthbound had made their attempts at interference, attested to you on this day, 83:0. 1,2 The Pelican cannot remain, and we grieve. He has confided unto me "This is going to end, and it will not stay ended. You will be visited, I am sure, by a being of superior ability. Be patient, for I shall seek Them out." 1,3 We did not understand the truths admitted to us, but we had faith; the Pelican was no normal form. 1,4 It was then that the Pelican acquired the necessary burnings*and prepared to leave the planet for his journey. Unknown is the Prophet's destination and heading, as well as the fate of the Earthbound. 1,5 And so, with that, the Pelican strapped his fuel under his broad wings and left Earth for fates elsewhere. Farewell, Nitrous Pelican.

*Burnings at this time was recorded as "nitrous" but remains undefined. For sake of the legend, Nitrous Pelican is retained from its original text.

Golem: Automatonophobia

2011-08-21T07:47:00.000-05:00

“I’m….here to see Professor Ulrich?” The nervous young man spoke in a Polish accent as he stood on the doorstep of a rather large brick household in the New York countryside. A student at New York University, he was somewhat aware of Professor Hans Ulrich’s masquerades, but never had read his work or spoken to him personally. Responding to an advertisement on campus, Piotr Brinkovich had made the journey out to the professor’s house to inquire.

“Yes, please come in,” the servant responded in the doorway. The man didn’t seem all that old, but was indeed very proper in accordance with his profession. A rather nice outfit, yet not the stereotypical tuxedo most people look for. He seemed more knowledgeable about the world than he expected, which made him curious as to why he was here being a servant. “The Professor is working in his….workspace. He will be along shortly to gather you, I’m sure – “

Piotr interrupted him nervously, “You’re sure he’ll be here shortly?” He glanced at the servant with a bit of worry in his eyes at the vagueness of the entire affair (a not uncommon sight to the servant-man). The duo proceeded past the entrance vestibule of the house, adorned with a marble staircase and skylight, and headed into a long hallway with various pieces of art. They approached a section of the hall brightly lit by natural light and covered with exquisite glass windows to the left.

“Indeed.” The servant motioned for the young student to have a seat in the atrium, something of a courtyard in the west section of the construct. “Professor Ulrich has been quite busy these recent days, I tell you. Feel free to enjoy our atrium, young man.” The servant stopped a few steps after turning to leave and pulled something from his jacket pocket. The man turned back and handed Piotr a pen and a pair of goggles. “Please fill out the paperwork on the table, here. The Professor will need this information to properly catalogue and include you in his studies.” With that, the servant walked out of the atrium and into oblivion, for all the young man knew.

Piotr glanced around the environment, curious and somewhat alarmed at events. The advertisement mentioned a groundbreaking study and requests for assistants, but made little mention of specifics. He knew Ulrich was a professor for the Biochemistry department and had written numerous papers on longevity. Indeed, the eccentric scientist had long studied medicine and improving health conditions. Perhaps he would use Piotr to research more ways to do as such.

As he stood with glazed eyes staring into the distance, he recalled what had brought him to New York University to begin with. Boris, his father, had died from throat cancer and left behind a fair sum of money to him and his brother. Piotr spent several years distressed watching his father die, a man who could not show affection even to his deathbed. He held nothing against his father, yet held very little for him. He simply felt like there should have been more than what there was, and was disappointed by how shockingly little it all seemed to be. The movies made it look so much different. As Piotr brought his eyes to the earth, he still wished his father were around. Always nice to tell people and introduce them to your one and only dad.

He sighed and sat down to fill out the paperwork given to him. The usual medical questions were asked and answered; height, weight, age, general physical appearance, known medical conditions, current prescriptions, sexual activity, medical history, fear of…..fear of robots or autonomous life-forms?

Consolidated Edison, a large power company in New York, had special considerations for research projects in the state. Many of the larger projects underway required specialized equipment and needs, and the company was more than happy to oblige as it was good for business and for public image. In this case, a Professor Ulrich of New York University had requested very demanding specifications to support his new laboratory, boasting power requirements including guaranteed uptime and the capacity to draw large surges if need be. Some experiments needed a very large instantaneous draw of power. Grids were set up to handle such an event, with extra equipment installed at the esteemed man’s laboratory.

In return, New York University was also working with the power company in researching better power generation and transmission methods. Wireless power transmission had been improved so much in recent years, a promising technology of the future that could radically change everything. On top of that, scientists had recently discovered methods of physical control and containment to make theoretical fusion reaction possible for power generation, and every company in the world was clamoring to be on the frontlines of fusion power. Not to be left behind, ConEd had signed deals with top university scientists, as well as scientists from other prominent research labs, to make this dream a reality. The company estimated that just one functional fusion reactor would easily make up the power requirements of the country, if it could also be reliably transmitted over those distances.

The birth of a new generation of technology was in sight.

Calvin and Hobbes: Ontological Musings

2011-08-19T10:10:00.000-05:00

Calvin often echoes many metaphysical concerns harbored in all of us, leading him to question both existence and divinity. To his credit, the young man can point out stunning revelations about our world, heaven, morality, and the possibility of a Creator that we may not have thought of before. At the end of the day, Calvin remains skeptical of any theory of Creation, yet also apprehensive about alternatives. He may be the archetypal Agnostic, questioning everything and accepting very little to be fact.

Scholars spend years and entire lifetimes writing out careful ontological arguments to persuade the population one way or the other. Can you put it any more succinctly? Somebody's out to get me. When asked if he believes in intelligent design, Calvin goes one step further, ignoring the if and explaining the why. By skipping the initial question and answering an unasked subsequent quiz, it seems that Calvin automatically assumes the existence of a God.

Of course, he never actually confirms this idea, instead relying on deflection. One could argue that since Calvin does not give a binary answer, and his response is phrased the way it is, that he does not believe in God. However, it points in a vague direction to some other power. Calvin does not believe this Somebody to be his parents; he actually believes them to be tools of that Somebody (as revealed through 10 years of monologues and diatribes). This simple dialogue reveals that 6-year-old Calvin's world is dictated by some sort of plan. He is born of his parents (about which he gets no choice, mind you) who are there to teach him lessons he does not wish to be taught. You see, there is a grand design at work for Calvin. And somebody's out to get him.

The role his parents play gets revealed in many other strips, and that will be explored some time down the line. For the purpose of this strip, the message is that some intelligent being outside of his comprehension is at work. This could simply be the plan and purpose itself, or it's personified in what they refer to as a God. Maybe he'll get Calvin one day.

Games Rant: Finish The Fight

2011-08-16T06:45:00.000-05:00

One of the recent cries from the gaming community has been a campaign against what they see as "unfinished" games. This definition is somewhat fuzzy, and maybe on purpose. For some, it's a convenient label on an already negatively-perceived game, and for others is a buzzword (or buzzphrase) of current development symptoms. This condition seems all too common in modern game development, but is so problematic to use it may as well be Senator McCarthy calling the games Communist.
Video game development is a very complex process, utilizing dozens of employees and millions of dollars, sometimes taking years to finally complete. If you don't lose financial backing, or employees, or your publisher, and if you don't run into a multitude of technical glitches, and if you don't simply run out of time, and if Mars aligns with Jupiter in such a way that you finish and your release date works out, you have successfully made a work of art and can now reap the rewards. And go back to do it again. The truth is that games evolve so much through their creation that the end product can sometimes be a completely different affair than its inception.
For many games, it means dumping ideas and mechanics you don't have time to implement. For a multitude of reasons, games often have release windows that must be adhered to for the best chance of success. Halo 2 was actually supposed to have a definitive ending, but was severely altered when the team ran out of time and substituted the cliffhanger ending. For Halo 2, it worked out and fans waited for months to see where it went after that. For Brink, the spectre of dropped balls will haunt its legacy and its developer, leaving them both behind the starting line before any new work even begins. But does that constitute the slur "unfinished"?
Why would Halo 2 be rewarded, and Brink punished, for essentially the same crimes? Perhaps it's in the execution. The second Halo generally succeeded in its execution, extending the dynasty of its predecessor long into the future. Brink, on the other hand, was plagued with execution issues from multiplayer servers to a simple lack of party system for friends. For Brink, it wasn't the dropped ideas or missing (previously proposed) features that sunk the island, but the poor execution of the concepts that were presented. Given that diagnosis, the problem often isn't being "unfinished," the problem is not delivering on what you do offer. If you do what you offer well, the lack of proposed features can easily be forgiven, even forgotten. Game development is an organic process of finding what works, and sometimes these components that sound great simply don't work when mixed with all the other complications of the process. When these issues arise, and developers leave ideas behind that they had previously suggested, the game is no longer reviewed as what it is, but what it should be. Is that fair?
The label of not finishing your project is thrown around these days more than ever, and even affects the AAA games on the market, the ones from the biggest developers with the biggest budgets. With the rise of Downloadable Content (DLC), many developers feel the pressure to support their games following release with both performance updates and added content. However, this also can serve as a backlash: these additions can signal, to some, an admission of guilt from the developer that they consider (or at least fear the perception) their product "unfinished." Can developers win either way?

Teddy Bare: Bernie's Bad Fur Day

2011-08-15T20:32:00.002-05:00

A full moon and an empty tank. I'd be howling on the street if it weren't for the gun in my face. Actually, I'd probably be howling either way, but these cubes have thin walls and rats for neighbors.
"Where's my fuckin' money Teddy?" The pooch was angrier than Scooby Doo without a snack, except this was a St Bernard with nothing to lose. I couldn't blame him. "You told me everything would be alright, and now my pup is eating DOG FOOD!" I resisted the small grin on my muzzle as the irony sunk in; even dogs consider dog food the lowest of the low.
"Bernie," I growled out, "I told you I wasn't a part of that. The Hound Dog gang wheeled in on our deal, talk to them. You knew the risks." That contained as much truth as Bernie's revolver did ammunition, since he could barely afford Alpo. I swung my paws off the desk and opened the third drawer down, grabbing my trusty bottle of whisky and two glasses. My ex-wife always said if I ever failed at investigation I'd be a sure shot as a boozehound.
"I'm sorry for what happened, old friend," I reassured him as I poured two glasses; better make it a double, before Bernie puts two in my skull. "Look, I got a plan. Those sons of bitches are never gonna know what happened, and your son will be eating milkbones for breakfast. Meet me at Barkington's tomorrow night, usual booth." I raised up my glass hoping he would drop his gun and the attitude.
Indeed, he lowered his gun and grabbed the glass, stopping to reflect on the unfolding events. "Alright, I'll try it your way. For now." Bernie clinked his glass on mine and threw back his whiskey like a water after a pigeon hunt. "I can't believe I ever got involved in this."
That little grin crossed my snout, finally. "Now we're talkin'." I went to pour another drink, but found the bottle empty. Figures, the whisky always finishes before I do. "Let me get you a drink tomorrow. If you'll excuse me, there's a fire hydrant calling my name and my dogs are barkin'."
"Tomorrow, then. Be there, Teddy, or I'll be back." Bernie lumbered his way out of the door and I breathed a sigh of relief. I opened the fourth drawer down and removed my emergency bourbon. Black Label from Dingo Reserve.
My name's Theodore Barrington, but most call me Teddy Bare. I'm a Shih Tzu dog, private eye, and a miserable hound bent on the truth (and maybe some rawhide bones).

The Genome Prison

2011-08-12T13:58:00.000-05:00

The man's chains were heavy. Forged from solid iron, connected in links made to be unbroken, clasping to shackles intended to hold a man's arms as heavily as they hold his spirit. Aslin had grown accustomed to seeing them on the most hardened criminals in the country, but could not fathom their weight. Restraints like that aren't meant to protect society from the criminal, they're designed to protect the criminal from his soul. There is no hope here was the message they endlessly reminded their host of. This the real punishment you pay for what you've done, and anything the Judge hands down will only save you.
The prison guard stood with his arms held behind his back, straight up, peering into the distance at everything and nothing. The floor was a serious place, not play time. Aslin had not been transitioned to the Onyx Tower because he was a slouch, and there was reason to be on guard. He was to escort the prisoner, Lex Fuller to the top of the tower for his sentencing from the Magistrate General, certainly not the first time to the court for either of the men. The prisoner was, at the moment, consuming what was presumed to be his last meal. Execution isn't always a foregone conclusion, but men like Lex rarely walked out of the same doors they walked in through.
Prisoner #2212-SB9 ate his meal noisily, yet delicately. As he finished, Aslin took the tray away and prepared the facility for the prisoner's departure. Lex's shackles were tightened as the well-renowned guard added leg shackles and opened the cell. They moved slowly down the darkened hall together, chains clinking as they approached the elevator. The doors parted and the duo stepped in, Lex in a gated-off segment of the encapsulated vertical vessel to prevent obstruction. As the doors opened at the top, Aslin released the man from his elevator cell and was joined by further guards to escort him into the courtroom.
The Magistrate General sat in his elevated position on the north end of the room, dimly lit and shrouded in mystery. He bore a long, gray beard and shoulder-length hair meticulously cared for. The rings on his fingers denoted certain ranks and awards through his long career. "Lexaquin Pontuit Fuller, you have been found Guilty Without Pity, as defined by a board of my peers. You are to be emancipated of your woes for Crimes Against Humanity, Crimes Against Society, and Crimes Against Your Genome. Because of the nature of the guilt and of the charges, you are to repay society and be put to death." The elderly man read these words with a raspy voice and unconcerned eyes. They reflected the depth of his age and wisdom as well as the apathy to those in his presence.
"Your insensitivity to your crimes and the people affected by them is both disturbing and admirable. This Court decrees that you be admitted to the Ismail Genetic Interjection Program, followed by execution. The IGIP will extract your genetic data, where it will be combined with many individuals and used to breed thousands of our young. Your genes will become the background information through the lives of your descendants for generations. So spread over the population, and combined with others, your genetic predispositions will become trivial as your grandchildren open their eyes." The Magistrate General peered at Lex with dead eyes, an odd juxtaposition to the dead man's lively green ones. "The program was created to weaken the genetic data of individuals the Court finds unworthy of carrying forth in their entirety, yet carrying traits we wish to cultivate in careful conditions. Offspring will not know your name or your cause, yet contain a tiny percentage of you in their cells. Lexaquin, you are not to be allowed to breed your genes in full, and any children already existing will be carefully monitored so these traits do not escape our grasp. Rejoice, for you will live for generations; remorse, for it shall be in shackles."
Aslin had not heard this sentence handed down before, and still stood dumbfounded as the ceremony drew to a close and he was shaken back to reality. A special unit of guards arrived to take the prisoner to his transportation and on to the breeding program. The veteran guard stood watching them make their exit, considering the punishment just demonstrated before him. How joyous to not only have children, but to be guaranteed to be a part of the generations, how important a post that must be. And how grave it also must be. Aslin wanted his children to be a piece of him, not a speck of him. He continued pondering the issue over dinner with his family, gazing to the distance as he was unsure of what it all meant. Yes, the man was going to die, and yes, he was now a secured part of his people. Was he a prisoner now, or was he to be a prisoner for thousands of years, trapped inside the young but unable to have a voice? What was the real prison?

Calvin and Hobbes: The Tiger Days of Summer

2011-08-11T10:50:00.002-05:00

Summer has an interesting effect on us all, particularly in northern climates. Summer in those regions is long-awaited during frigid winters, a time to escape from homes and hit the locations that are only truly accessible during warm times. This season signals a vacation, even if no technical vacation is ever taken. In fact, productivity often slumps on nice summer days as people resent their prison of responsibility. For many children it means fleeing the pressures of school and going back to the projects you left behind a year ago, giving you weeks of free time to finish your tree fort or solve the mystery of who stole Mrs. Nelson's garden gnome, and why the ice cream man doesn't come by anymore. For Calvin it means water balloons, trashing Susie's tea parties, and doing anything but learning, even if it means doing nothing at all!

Where does Calvin go on vacation? Anywhere but school. Locations need not be named as long as they're nowhere near an institution of learning, because anything besides going to school is a good enough substitute for his young mind. Many scenes will depict him participating in shenanigans and chicanery, and then whining come August (or whatever month that is to Calvin, probably Thermidor) that nothing was accomplished. The tree that Hobbes leans against is the symbol of summer: sturdy, full of life, and blooming in defiance to autumn and winter. That lazy creek should be taken as Calvin's own stream of consciousness; it flows slowly through the land, unconcerned with its destination and purpose yet life-giving, helping to perpetuate the legend of summer tranquility.

This fine specimen of a young man (we don't really know his future, so it's plausible to conclude that he is not an immature adult) hearkens to the person we all wish to be. His father often serves as a foil against Calvin's antics, especially in summer when he must go to work daily in opposition to his son spending his days participating in acts of little practical meaning. One would assume dad carries a bit of jealousy for Calvin as he heads to another day in the office. You can ground him and lock him in his room away from television, but you can't contain Calvin's zest for irresponsibility, a person that lies inside all of us.

Summer is great for doing things like writing blog posts on topics that really contribute nothing at all, aren't they? Calvin's rhetoric shines again in the very irony of this post itself.

Damage Control

2011-08-09T00:00:00.003-05:00

Games often take on the order of months and years to complete, even requiring dozens of people from multiple studios to team up. Each element requires careful consideration, and is even more complicated when you attempt to take the title for best multiplayer experience. Many of the most popular FPS multiplayer games include several game modes, to reach the widest audience possible and ensure a varied experience. It became quickly apparent in the early days that straight-up deathmatch was fun, but gets tiresome. Modders initially led the charge in making new gametypes, and is now both an official endeavor and supported by the modding community.
This leads us to the current crop, and notably issues present in Battlefield: Bad Company and Battlefield: Bad Company 2. Like a few of its rivals (Halo Reach, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, Call of Duty: Black Ops, Rainbow Six Vegas) it contains several ways to engage other players, including a so-called Hardcore Mode (Not explicitly labelled as such in Halo, but Tactical gametypes are the equivalent, and Realistic mode in Rainbow Six also carries the same connotations) that denotes several deviations from the normal modes. Hardcore mode generally implies a higher difficulty, requiring more careful playing and higher teamwork. These changes often include the following: higher weapon damage, removal of on-screen navigation (Radar, minimap, GPS, or what have you), different matchmaking algorithms, different ranking structures, changes in weapon modes or abilities, and changes in gametypes altogether.
My focus is on Battlefield: Bad Company 2 and the upcoming Battlefield 3. Many changes are being included in Battlefield 3 in response to player feedback in their previous titles. Both of the Bad Company additions marked a slight departure from Battlefield venues, introducing the players to a plot experience meant to compete with the Call of Duty franchise, but that is parallel to the multiplayer. Bad Company and Bad Company 2 extend the domination this series holds on FPS multiplayer, and are both some of the most played competitive multiplayer games of the last few years.
The Hardcore mode was welcome to many gamers, including myself, but ended up with one main complaint to the player base: snipers often had an easy time racking up kills while they observed objectives. Since the damage is increased in Hardcore, and spotting is turned off, snipers can, at times, become virtually invisible to enemies (and even friendlies, leading to untimely deaths) and deliver one-shot kills to those that come across their paths. Most of the semi-automatic and bolt-action rifles can easily deliver death in a shot, and the few oddballs can do it in a few, without needing to rechamber and reengage like the others.
This all goes back to multiplayer balance. Each weapon and map must be carefully examined and tested to ensure that neither side has a significant advantage over the other, and that wins are a result of teamwork and skill rather than manipulation and overwhelming superiority by design. Hardcore mode drastically changes balance mechanics, and sniping complaints are certainly valid. It's true that a sniper can hide in the bushes, half a map away, and lay out one shot and one kill without any idea where he touched you from. However, is that really so implausible?
Should this be the real world, this would be the case on any battlefield you visit. The sniper's very job is to not be seen and to deliver destruction precisely and silently. Is Bad Company 2 a video game? Yes. Does it seek to emulate the world and real battles? Of course, yes. Those worried about balance in Hardcore mode should probably return to normal instead of complain about snipers in Hardcore, because that's simply how it should be. If you're hit by a round from a Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle, on any part of your body, you're immediately a noncombatant, whether that hit you in the head or the hand. There is simply no recovery from such a wound (especially on the battlefield), and the fact that it doesn't deliver a one-shot kill in normal mode speaks not to exquisite tweaking by developers but to the inability of those to cope with what they are asking for. Gamers constantly lobby developers to make it more real, and Hardcore is there to deliver that.
I will stick with Hardcore mode and yes, I enjoy being a sniper hiding in the bushes around the battlefield. Do I get annoyed at enemy snipers that take me out without a clue to their position? Shit yes I do. And I'm coming to find you before you can find me.

Rendezvous With The Mad Chatter

2011-08-08T06:25:00.000-05:00

Yurin awoke with a start, panicked instantaneously about his current location and status. It all flooded back to him as he peered at his data panel, the reports of the latest survey ready for viewing. He glanced his weary eyes at the canopy, into the cold, black of space and what lay beyond. A brownish, reddish planet greeted him at intermediate range, one of the many Yurin had come across in the recent weeks.
Reflecting on where he was, he recalled his beginnings with the organization. Yurin was a pilot for Starcorps Reconnaissance Group. His people wielded advanced technology with which to explore the stars, but events had transpired to hinder some of these efforts. Reconnaissance Pilots generally left their home system in compact, advanced ships that could scan local singularities and determine their nature. Some people weren't exactly sure what they were hoping to find in the stars, and some predicted meeting an alien civilization. Yurin simply wanted to leave his planet and be on his lonesome, and was allowed into the program because of his wealthy and influential uncle, among other reasons. He wasn't even sure how this ship operated, if he was completely honest. Was he hoping to find whatever it was they were looking for? He didn't know, but he partly regretted his huge commitment.
The power of the Starcorps Galaxy Rovers was a closely guarded secret, and united the society of a planet. It led to the colonization of many of the worlds in its system, and had now reached its fingers into its neighbors. The ships were capable of traversing huge distances in relatively short times, and pilots had access to hibernation techniques to ward off the fatigue of these long times alone. Communication was not theoretically or physically possible over these distances, at least not that anyone knew of. Pilots stayed out scanning for various lengths of time and returned home periodically to relay their Rover's data with men of higher intellect. Yurin, and no one he had contact with, really knew where the technology that powered the Rovers came from. It was a quick progression, if the tales were correct. In only a few decades their society moved on from atomic ages to spacefaring ages, and the Rovers were always the heart. They were closely guarded, perhaps more so than atomic weapons ever were. Where did this miracle technology come from?
And then Yurin's computer let out a tone. It was a long tone, not a usual one. It had been scanning this star system for.....something, he was sure. They all scanned for something. As he pressed an acknowledgement on his computer, a strange image appeared. It seemed to be a computer-generated model of a.....a building? A rock? The lines were too perfect. A.....a craft? What was this? And how, exactly, did the computer know its appearance and dimensions? Yurin wasn't sure his scanning tools could detect such things at this distance, as it appeared to be on the other edge of the system. Millions of miles away, his Rover could detect, with detail, the details of this object?
He wasn't sure what he should do in response, but he was aware of his duty. His ship laid in course to rendezvous, and was quickly across the system. As he approached whatever this object was, his close-range sensors confirmed the previous observations, and he was astounded at all that was transpiring. What was this object sitting out here? Why was the computer so excited, and how did it know?
It was a ship. It was most definitely a ship. A starship. And it looked eerily similar to the craft Yurin was familiar with from his people. As his curiosity and nervousness grew, he began local scans of whatever he was looking at. It was 60 meters long, 32 high. It was made of various metals, most known and some not. Most of all, it seemed related. It felt like a cousin of his Rover, like something familiar. He felt an instant kinship with the craft, and a hesitant aggression. This had never been recorded before.
And then it responded. Dim lights began to glow on the craft, and it came to life. It floated there, lit up, right before Yurin's eyes. It reached out with fingers of light, dancing with odd effects, towards Yurin's diminutive Rover. Was it scanning his ship as well? What was it looking for? The computer sounded again, and began a local connection. Yurin immediately attempted to block its attempts, but he appeared to have no control over what was proceeding. He watched in horror as the two ships...talked? Could they talk? Was there a common language or dialogue?
A spot around the diameter of the other ship's hull, about 3/4s down its length, began to glow a greenish-purple, and a flare appeared out the back. Yurin was familiar with this, and this horrified him as well. Starcorps Rovers make that same effect when they're preparing long-distance travel, and it was identical to the look of his own. He frantically began trying to discern what the dialogue between the two ships was, and was temporarily blinded as the other ship disappeared. His Rover went dark, and the other was gone. He attempted with every ounce of fortitude to reestablish control of his craft, but he had no methods to employ.
He deployed manual insertion countermeasures as the Rover drifted and approached a nearby planet, and he was given no choice but to land on it. As his ship entered the atmosphere with no control, he wondered back to the alien ship.
Who made it, what was it doing out here, and where had it gone?

Threedy-Ess: Remarks and Diatribes

2011-08-02T09:27:00.000-05:00

The 3DS handheld console from Nintendo is an amazing piece of technology, if nothing else. Like the Wii, it pioneers a new way to experience games and entertainment in general, leading the entire industry into new territory. The ability to engage games in a 3D context without the need for special viewing glasses is an epic feat, no doubt. However, the 3DS suffered from two main launch problems: lack of supporting software and relatively high price. The launch titles supporting the new hardware were severely underwhelming, with the major games not seeing release for months after its introduction. True, the 3DS promised huge releases that many gamers are dying to get their hands on, such as Super Mario 3D, Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 3D, and StarFox 64 3D, among many others. The problem is that none of these were launch titles, and only one (Ocarina of Time 3D) was anywhere near the launch dates.
And the price point? $250 is a steep price to ask, but may not be so outlandish. The launch price of the 3DS matches that of the Wii 5 years later. Handheld markets are generally less expensive than that of their full platform brethren, but with the rise of powerful hand computing, things have been changing. The 3DS accomplishes what nothing else can, even at full size. This high price point is the other side of the equation of what's held the system back from dominating its market. $250 is a rather large pill to swallow for early adopters with tons of other options as substitutes, including the previous Nintendo DS, still officially supported. In addition, many gamers can already get their fix on phones (which almost all of them already own), laptops, desktop computers, or tablets. The market is more entrenched than ever, and Nintendo's slice of pie will be gradually nibbled away as time marches on.
It isn't all bad news, however. The high release price may be alright for Nintendo, a company that suffered the opposite problem with the Wii platform. A higher price may allow for the 3DS to have more staying power, and that lesson is painfully clear with the Wii and Wii U. Just 5 years after the release of the Wii, in a generation expected to last a decade, the platform was obviously nearing its end. It had saturated the market and pushed as far as it could, for a multitude of reasons. Not only must the 3DS be expensive to produce given its pioneering technology, but this may not be so glum. The 3DS will not sell as quickly as the Wii, and stands superior to almost all of its peers. A higher price point means less early adopters, but likely indicates more overall purchases over the next several years as production gets cheaper, the price drops, quality software increases in number, and people transition to the new standard. Be patient, the 3DS will settle.

And then Gabe and Tycho come along.

They prove an excellent point, as they nearly always do. The competition for the mobile gaming market isn't only hardware, oh no. It's in software, more and more. The hardware exists everywhere, let's face it. It can't do what the 3DS does, but most don't need it to. And their software is cheaper, if both in price and quality for various titles. Even the prime titles cost no more than a few dollars, and most people are content flinging birds and dropping jewels. Nintendo's slice is being nibbled faster than they ever thought, hence the price reduction.

Few platforms drop their price only a few months after release, and none (that I could name) do so with such a large increment. The Nintendo 3DS saw a 32% reduction in purchase price recently, a massive attempt by the gaming corporation to encourage early adoption. And yet Gabe proves his eloquent point with inelegance, as is his modus operandi. The price reduction of the hardware does not answer the real assault on the 3DS: the price of the software. And this problem may be insurmountable for the near future, unfortunately. A better course may have been to expedite development of software in demand, and a reduction in the software price, keeping the high hardware price. This strategy is the usual course in gaming markets, with high hardware costs and subsidisation of software. And this may have been the course Nintendo should have followed, along with patience for adoption.

We will see the results of these launches and changes over the next several months, but I would predict adoption to still be slow. Faster than before, but not as fast as they would like. Perhaps that is best, considering the devastating adoption rate of the Wii.

Calvin and Hobbes: How To Win

2011-08-01T00:48:00.000-05:00

When we're children, we're taught certain practices on how to debate and argue. Reason, we are told, is far more valuable than volume when vocally sparring. All through school the lesson is drilled in us: learn the values, the arguments, understand your opponent's view, and attack only their facts in an attempt to prove that your idea is superior. Raising your voice is for children, they say. And then you get elected to Congress.

Obviously Calvin has chosen to eschew the careful lessons Miss Wormwood (don't know her? We'll get there someday, I'm sure!) has attempted to beat into him. While she lectures on English and etiquette, Calvin dreams of far-off planets visited by the daring Spaceman Spiff. No, the best way to win is by volume, the young man insists! There actually isn't much to say about this strip itself, but the point is pretty clear on its own.

"If you can't win by reason, go for volume." This simplistic epithet will probably stick with me forever, though I choose it to be the method of the pedestrian. However juvenile it may be, it gets results. Ask the politicians in Congress, or any other governmental institution. Seriously, it's interesting, the regression that occurs. You're told all your young life to use your words in carefully picked, neutral, calm tones to argue your opponent to nothing. However, that is apparently no match for the political will of your arch-rival. Or maybe it's no match for the money of your constituents, I'm not sure.

In any case, you'll find that the lessons of academia are useless in such realms. Politicians raise their voices, refer to their opponents in undignified tones and mannerisms, and even end up sometimes in nearly physical spars. Wealthy, affluent, powerful men end up shouting at each other over budget cuts on the floor of the legislature of the most powerful country in the world, rather than handling it how we're told to when we're 7 or doing what's best for everyone.

If you can't win by volume, win by any means necessary.

The Humble Bundle

2011-07-27T07:13:00.000-05:00

It is at this point that I draw your attention to the Humble Bundle #3, available now until August 9th. Humble Bundle made itself famous with its first offering and has continued serving up irresistable packages of games at whatever price you choose. The current package includes indie favorites Crayon Physics Deluxe, Cogs, VVVVVV, Hammerfight, as well as And Yet It Moves.
As with previous offers, all participants can choose how much they wish to pay for the 5 games, or even pay nothing at all if they so desire. Users can also choose where their money goes by designating if they want it to go to the developers, charity (the Electronic Frontier Foundation and Child's Play) or donate it to Humble Bundle, Inc as compensation for hosting the deal. You can choose to pay all to one, or distribute evenly, or however you want the money to be allocated. Humble Bundle then posts the statistics about operating systems, payment amounts, distributions, etc.
I have personally bought all of the Humble Bundles offered, and encourage everyone else who is an avid gamer, or even a casual gamer, to pick up these coveted titles for cheap (or expensive, if you want). If anything, you could have the money donated to charity. I'm a big fan of Child's Play, a charity set up by the good people over at Penny Arcade.
Go forth and game; game for fun, game for exploration, game for charity.

Calvin and Hobbes: The Pernicious Poem Place

2011-07-24T15:07:00.000-05:00

Calvin, being a rebel against social values, obviously had to invent a sport to entertain himself. And, being a rebel sport, is highly disorganized and unmonitored. In fact, Calvinball contains only one rule: Calvinball can never be played the same way twice. And with so many options of sports to combine and rules to make up, this is not a hard rule to observe. Each time one plays Calvinball, a new set of regulations must be introduced, and often introduced on the fly rather than thought out ahead of time. This strip shows a remarkable event in Calvin's homespun sport, even more interesting than normal Calvinball events.

Indeed, Calvin is the incurable weirdness poster child, and you can't argue given evidence from most of the strips. Playing Calvinball is usually indicated by the mask both the participants are wearing, and by odd rules and scoring. Susie is normally a combination of weirded out and repulsed by Calvin's antics, but she gets a rare chance at turnabout when he seems to simply hand her the keys to revenge. And the best part is that she doesn't just take vengeance for past transgressions, oh no. She grins, rubs her hands together, and savors what is about to happen. Calvin loathes every moment of it.

However, there is something more interesting happening here. Calvin is adhering to the rules established (arbitrarily and instantaneously, by the way) in their sport. He lost some sort of position in the game and was forced to abide by the rules of the Pernicious Poem Place, and did so honorably. There aren't many things that Calvin claims loyalty to, but Calvinball is unquestioned. He will challenge almost every other philosophy and ideology, but Calvinball is pure. Calvinball is freedom from social norms, from persecution, from his peers and classmates, and the harsh world trying to crush in on Calvin's dreamworlds.

At the end of the day, Calvin respects his sport, Calvinball, and the rules (or nonrules?) that govern its existence. Several strips will show Calvinball to be an honorable sport of mischief, deception, and utter Darwinism. If you're not willing to throw rules around and engage in verbal war, you will not stand in the Calvinball stadium for long. Even more so, Calvin is often depicted as losing the game, overall. He must frequently undergo humiliations like this one, and he never seems to mind going through it again. The fact is that Hobbes may never land in the Pernicious Poem Place, and even if he does, he likely possesses both the vernacular and the willpower to escape its clutches, and seeing as the rules are never the same twice, he needs only avoid it for one game.

However, there are plenty of horrendous fates for the participants willing to brave the field in the name of Calvinball, and you never know what you're going to encounter, or what pranks will be had that day. You do know that you'd better be sharp and awake, because you're likely to be tricked and pushed into made up rules with consequences as weird as the Pernicious Poem Place. So suit up, Warrior, and get to the field. The score is seven to G.