My surprise flavored lollipop was grape flavored.
Damn it.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
What I Want From A Roleplaying Game
What I want, in as few words as possible, is a compelling story.
It may be that I'm in the wrong genre entirely. What I want right now is not something that is best described in hit points or skill levels or stat blocks...but rather something best described by characters, by what they do, what they wear, how they sound, how they look, and how they react to the events of the world going on around them. I like concepts of grandiose power games, conspiracies to take over the world, unseen powers not for this earth. But they're for the story. Players of RPGs seem fixated on what they can do, what actions they can take. Instead of the 'what', how about the 'why' or the 'how'.
So maybe a roleplaying game is a foil for my own laziness. Maybe all I want to do is create a compelling story, and maybe I want a bunch of people to help me.
So this could be collaborative fiction. Or it could be that I should just write something. And it could be that I need to look more critically at what elements I tout in my games, because those are going to be elements I want to integrate into my stories.
So I want danger, and I certainly seem to like the Cyberpunk genre. Character depth is key, as is an interesting plot with a decent (though not overbearing) amount of backlog. But I always get stuck on realism, which is kind of contradictory in many genres of science fiction, cyberpunk included.
So let's wind it back. The thing that makes cyberpunk and dystopian literature interesting is their connection with the real world. So let's, for the time being, stay in the real world.
Let's work through some scenarios, based on fanciful (though not ridiculous) thought. A man, generally left-wing in his opinions, owns a gun. He owns a gun for two reasons: first, he enjoys shooting from a hobbyist perspective, and pistol shooting is both inexpensive (relatively) and challenging. Second, he has, from his own opinions on the world, a dim view of the government.
This man is a tinkerer. He has an engineering background, and enjoys tinkering with stuff. Building stuff. Modding stuff. He lives in the midwest (let's say Wisconsin) and has recently put the down payment on a fairly large estate, about 4 to 5 acres. It isn't arable land, and due to the composition of the rural route he lives on (farmers) the land is relatively cheap. Still, he now has a large mortgage.
This man is fairly cyberactive, and keeps two computers; a desktop for movie editing (his prized possession is a camcorder, at least after his 1966 Ford Falcon) and other home things, and a small Sony laptop to go to and from job, and also everywhere else. He owns three cars, but they're worth about 7500 dollars in total. He is a tinkerer. His 1981 Toyota Starlet sits dead in his garage, halfway through a conversion to run on natural gas. He knows how to finish the car, but is at a personal roadblock, having suffered minor burns and a crushed ego after an attempt to install a methane off-gas valve onto his septic tank resulted in a small explosion.
Back to the computers. The man, for the same reason he has the gun, uses Tor for his browsing. He is the only one in his county who does so. Unfortunately, when two high schoolers hold their school's computer network hostage for an unspoken ransom, the police go to the door of the one guy who they can't packet-sniff. When they ask to search his house he calmly asks for a warrant. The police ask again. He refuses, asserting his fourth amendment rights. The police say something about the Patriot Act and terrorists, and the man does not care. They enter his house. He shoots them both, killing them. Now, in reality, since they did not have a warrant, this would be termed as a self-defense killing. Police or not, you aren't allowed to enter a man's home without a warrant. So, two armed men broke into his house. Hmm. In reality, it wouldn't go down so easily. Even without the current imperial presidency, failure to produce a warrant is not likely to be considered justifiable cause for shooting police officers.
Now, the man loves taking home video. He vidblogs, and uses it to record things he does to his cars. Let's say he saw the cop car, and set up his camera on his stairway to videotape the conversation. Let's say the police officers drew weapons before he drew his, and shoved him to the ground upon trying to enter the house.
Let's say that was uploaded to Youtube.
Hmmm. I may have a novel.
It may be that I'm in the wrong genre entirely. What I want right now is not something that is best described in hit points or skill levels or stat blocks...but rather something best described by characters, by what they do, what they wear, how they sound, how they look, and how they react to the events of the world going on around them. I like concepts of grandiose power games, conspiracies to take over the world, unseen powers not for this earth. But they're for the story. Players of RPGs seem fixated on what they can do, what actions they can take. Instead of the 'what', how about the 'why' or the 'how'.
So maybe a roleplaying game is a foil for my own laziness. Maybe all I want to do is create a compelling story, and maybe I want a bunch of people to help me.
So this could be collaborative fiction. Or it could be that I should just write something. And it could be that I need to look more critically at what elements I tout in my games, because those are going to be elements I want to integrate into my stories.
So I want danger, and I certainly seem to like the Cyberpunk genre. Character depth is key, as is an interesting plot with a decent (though not overbearing) amount of backlog. But I always get stuck on realism, which is kind of contradictory in many genres of science fiction, cyberpunk included.
So let's wind it back. The thing that makes cyberpunk and dystopian literature interesting is their connection with the real world. So let's, for the time being, stay in the real world.
Let's work through some scenarios, based on fanciful (though not ridiculous) thought. A man, generally left-wing in his opinions, owns a gun. He owns a gun for two reasons: first, he enjoys shooting from a hobbyist perspective, and pistol shooting is both inexpensive (relatively) and challenging. Second, he has, from his own opinions on the world, a dim view of the government.
This man is a tinkerer. He has an engineering background, and enjoys tinkering with stuff. Building stuff. Modding stuff. He lives in the midwest (let's say Wisconsin) and has recently put the down payment on a fairly large estate, about 4 to 5 acres. It isn't arable land, and due to the composition of the rural route he lives on (farmers) the land is relatively cheap. Still, he now has a large mortgage.
This man is fairly cyberactive, and keeps two computers; a desktop for movie editing (his prized possession is a camcorder, at least after his 1966 Ford Falcon) and other home things, and a small Sony laptop to go to and from job, and also everywhere else. He owns three cars, but they're worth about 7500 dollars in total. He is a tinkerer. His 1981 Toyota Starlet sits dead in his garage, halfway through a conversion to run on natural gas. He knows how to finish the car, but is at a personal roadblock, having suffered minor burns and a crushed ego after an attempt to install a methane off-gas valve onto his septic tank resulted in a small explosion.
Back to the computers. The man, for the same reason he has the gun, uses Tor for his browsing. He is the only one in his county who does so. Unfortunately, when two high schoolers hold their school's computer network hostage for an unspoken ransom, the police go to the door of the one guy who they can't packet-sniff. When they ask to search his house he calmly asks for a warrant. The police ask again. He refuses, asserting his fourth amendment rights. The police say something about the Patriot Act and terrorists, and the man does not care. They enter his house. He shoots them both, killing them. Now, in reality, since they did not have a warrant, this would be termed as a self-defense killing. Police or not, you aren't allowed to enter a man's home without a warrant. So, two armed men broke into his house. Hmm. In reality, it wouldn't go down so easily. Even without the current imperial presidency, failure to produce a warrant is not likely to be considered justifiable cause for shooting police officers.
Now, the man loves taking home video. He vidblogs, and uses it to record things he does to his cars. Let's say he saw the cop car, and set up his camera on his stairway to videotape the conversation. Let's say the police officers drew weapons before he drew his, and shoved him to the ground upon trying to enter the house.
Let's say that was uploaded to Youtube.
Hmmm. I may have a novel.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Spin Magazine
So, the Helmet show I was at was in Spin Magazine. They had photos. Which is good, because my cell phone camera was not up to the fast motion metal-ness.
Check it out:
http://spin.com/articles/chicago-headbangs-helmet
It also confirms I was one of the younger dudes there. Not surprising, Helmet's original lineup broke up in 1998.
Friday, July 25, 2008
May 5, 2005
The fun thing about so many things in life is that you have absolutely no clue what's going to happen. This would include prom, moving, spontaneously kissing someone in a hallway in the middle of Eastern Europe...you know.
I've always panicked about the little details of events like this. But once it's completely out of your control, it tends to be more relaxing. Especially when you know that even if some little detail is awry, most likely, the night will go well. In some bizarre twist, one of the sub-clauses of Murphy's law is: "The more you worry about it, the less worrisome it will be." Which is a good thing, really.
So, all in all, I got it, somehow. I don't know. I was doing more old-year voyeurism, and this came up. It's interesting, because I wrote it. Just thought it'd be worth sharing.
All this old-year voyeurism is kind of hard without my own livejournal to look back on, but in some way, it's probably healthier not to be able to read any of the vile ranting, because there was definitely a fair amount of that. Oh well.
See below post. It's about metal, and therefore way more interesting.
I've always panicked about the little details of events like this. But once it's completely out of your control, it tends to be more relaxing. Especially when you know that even if some little detail is awry, most likely, the night will go well. In some bizarre twist, one of the sub-clauses of Murphy's law is: "The more you worry about it, the less worrisome it will be." Which is a good thing, really.
So, all in all, I got it, somehow. I don't know. I was doing more old-year voyeurism, and this came up. It's interesting, because I wrote it. Just thought it'd be worth sharing.
All this old-year voyeurism is kind of hard without my own livejournal to look back on, but in some way, it's probably healthier not to be able to read any of the vile ranting, because there was definitely a fair amount of that. Oh well.
See below post. It's about metal, and therefore way more interesting.
FUCKIN' METAL
So, lots of stuff has happened recently. But I only want to focus on one thing.
I went to see Helmet Thursday night. It was, without reservation, totally sick. Amazing, amazing show.
Page Hamilton, the frontman of the band, is by far the coolest middle-aged guy ever to walk the earth. I mean, I didn't realize this until I looked it up, but the man is 48. Holy shit. He can rock with the rest of them, that's for sure.
They played all my favorite songs. I was in a mosh pit and was tossed in projectile motion by crazy guys who were twice my size. I screamed at the top of my lungs and went home with no voice and my ears ringing. It was so good. I can't even say anything else. It was just so good.
It was so good, I bought a shirt.
Though, for next time, I'm bringing ear plugs. I can't keep doing this to my ears.
I went to see Helmet Thursday night. It was, without reservation, totally sick. Amazing, amazing show.
Page Hamilton, the frontman of the band, is by far the coolest middle-aged guy ever to walk the earth. I mean, I didn't realize this until I looked it up, but the man is 48. Holy shit. He can rock with the rest of them, that's for sure.
They played all my favorite songs. I was in a mosh pit and was tossed in projectile motion by crazy guys who were twice my size. I screamed at the top of my lungs and went home with no voice and my ears ringing. It was so good. I can't even say anything else. It was just so good.
It was so good, I bought a shirt.
Though, for next time, I'm bringing ear plugs. I can't keep doing this to my ears.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
In our hands
In our hands, in the hands of each being on this planet, we possess an ungodly amount of power. This is not an electrical power that will jump forth in a bright spark all at once, it is more of an ebb and flow that continues throughout all of life.
Think, if you will, about your significance. In the universe at large, in a world with over 6 billion people, you cannot possibly be significant. Or can you? Within the inner realm of another person, you may be significant. More significant than you could know.
You may be so significant, that someone will not go a single day without thinking about you. Someone may change earth-shattering plans for the future to be with you. Someone may contemplate killing themselves over the thought of not having you.
And this will happen, if not once, many times in your lifetime. At all levels of intensity, you will walk into someone else's life, and when you walk out, you will leave it permanently changed.
Life's questions, in many ways, seem to boil down to these: who has walked across the stage of our life and left it completely different than it was before? And who did you leave in your wake when you made your cameo?
It is very, very difficult to understand. It still haunts me that someone could genuinely love another from the very bottom of their heart...and yet that other person simply not feel the same way.
It is an unanswered question that affects me very deeply. I truly wish I could simply know what people are thinking...because even if I really do know the truth, it scares me, the idea that I could leave so many loose strings from the fringes of my life past.
So I did write something today. But I still haven't found the self-discipline to sit down and start hacking out my story. Damn it.
Think, if you will, about your significance. In the universe at large, in a world with over 6 billion people, you cannot possibly be significant. Or can you? Within the inner realm of another person, you may be significant. More significant than you could know.
You may be so significant, that someone will not go a single day without thinking about you. Someone may change earth-shattering plans for the future to be with you. Someone may contemplate killing themselves over the thought of not having you.
And this will happen, if not once, many times in your lifetime. At all levels of intensity, you will walk into someone else's life, and when you walk out, you will leave it permanently changed.
Life's questions, in many ways, seem to boil down to these: who has walked across the stage of our life and left it completely different than it was before? And who did you leave in your wake when you made your cameo?
It is very, very difficult to understand. It still haunts me that someone could genuinely love another from the very bottom of their heart...and yet that other person simply not feel the same way.
It is an unanswered question that affects me very deeply. I truly wish I could simply know what people are thinking...because even if I really do know the truth, it scares me, the idea that I could leave so many loose strings from the fringes of my life past.
So I did write something today. But I still haven't found the self-discipline to sit down and start hacking out my story. Damn it.
Most people...
...never consider their online paper trail. Most people never delete their livejournals.
In an outburst of pure, unadulterated curiosity, I fired up ye olde browser, and surfed the livejournals of a few people I knew in high school. They hadn't been updated since 2006, at the most recent, and with one exception, did not really reflect the people as I knew them now. And of course, the exception was a singular entry written about how much the person had changed in the span of two years.
I'm not sure what people think of looking back. I look back a lot, because I've lived a very interesting life, and having record of that is, well, interesting. Of course, I deleted my livejournal. I can't say I regret that, but at the same time...
Sometimes I think it would have been interesting to read. I was such a different person in high school.
Speaking of different people...
For some reason, we watched this motivational-esque video at the end of our safety training. A lot of heartwarming bullshit, but one thing came up about setting goals. So, I'm going to set hard and fast goals. They may be hell to get to, but that's the point.
I will publish a novel.
That is my goal for right now. And damn it, I'm going to make it happen. Because aiming really fucking high is probably the only way I'm going to stop dilly-dallying and write something already. I've written probably 750+ words about writing, why don't I just write something?
In an outburst of pure, unadulterated curiosity, I fired up ye olde browser, and surfed the livejournals of a few people I knew in high school. They hadn't been updated since 2006, at the most recent, and with one exception, did not really reflect the people as I knew them now. And of course, the exception was a singular entry written about how much the person had changed in the span of two years.
I'm not sure what people think of looking back. I look back a lot, because I've lived a very interesting life, and having record of that is, well, interesting. Of course, I deleted my livejournal. I can't say I regret that, but at the same time...
Sometimes I think it would have been interesting to read. I was such a different person in high school.
Speaking of different people...
For some reason, we watched this motivational-esque video at the end of our safety training. A lot of heartwarming bullshit, but one thing came up about setting goals. So, I'm going to set hard and fast goals. They may be hell to get to, but that's the point.
I will publish a novel.
That is my goal for right now. And damn it, I'm going to make it happen. Because aiming really fucking high is probably the only way I'm going to stop dilly-dallying and write something already. I've written probably 750+ words about writing, why don't I just write something?
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
On writing
The most important thing I've read recently about writing is that any writer practices by writing. Not writing anything in particular, just writing. I've never felt particularly great about this. I write, and write a fair amount, but am generally more likely to brush off writing that I do as 'blogging', or being self-indulgent journal entries, or whatever else. In reality, especially as I wrestle with story ideas in my head, I need to get off my 'literary' high horse and just write more. At some point, more ideas need to go on paper (disk, memory, whatever) and out of my head. Especially as I'm realizing the potential of my ideas. I'm also realizing the potential of my other ideas, even ones I'd canned as being too simplistic or contrived. My goal is to tell a story. If I think I'm going to come up with something that has absolutely 100% never been done before, I'm kidding myself.
They do say 'write what you know'. That's why I'm excited about this story idea. It's things I truly know, combined with the best things out of my 'too good to be made up' file. I need to figure out the mood for the story...though logically, I need to figure out what the plot is first. Half of it will write itself...based on both my own recollection and the reactions of characters in the other half. All in all, it should be very interesting.
Another interesting thing I read said that you can never trust close family members or friends for editorial criticism. That's very true, as I've realized my friends seem to gush over anything I've written, regardless of how shitty it is. I think I'd make an exception for my father though, who has been my editor for school papers since I was 9, and who can accurately and brutally critique writing without making me hate it (though I will forever loathe the term gobbledy-gook because of him).
They do say 'write what you know'. That's why I'm excited about this story idea. It's things I truly know, combined with the best things out of my 'too good to be made up' file. I need to figure out the mood for the story...though logically, I need to figure out what the plot is first. Half of it will write itself...based on both my own recollection and the reactions of characters in the other half. All in all, it should be very interesting.
Another interesting thing I read said that you can never trust close family members or friends for editorial criticism. That's very true, as I've realized my friends seem to gush over anything I've written, regardless of how shitty it is. I think I'd make an exception for my father though, who has been my editor for school papers since I was 9, and who can accurately and brutally critique writing without making me hate it (though I will forever loathe the term gobbledy-gook because of him).
Monday, July 14, 2008
Aaron wins at AWKWARD.
In related news, I hate phones.
Sometimes, as I'm seeing, you can't let an opportunity slip by. I've been letting this story idea percolate in my head, and slowly but surely, my enthusiasm has waned significantly. This always seems to happen. On the plus side, I still like the idea. However, that does me little good when I have much less motivation to write it. Oh well.
Strike when the iron is hot, so they say. Writing, like many things, is something where you have to get over the initial hump to really get into the good stuff.
I still feel like I want to write about something I can relate to. However, my life is boring, no one wants to read a novel about cars, and I feel more like writing about roleplaying than writing on subject matter that would belong in a game. Though, that last sentence gave me a perverse idea for a story. This one's very vague, will need some serious flesh.
Back in a few. (hours? days? weeks? who knows?)
Sometimes, as I'm seeing, you can't let an opportunity slip by. I've been letting this story idea percolate in my head, and slowly but surely, my enthusiasm has waned significantly. This always seems to happen. On the plus side, I still like the idea. However, that does me little good when I have much less motivation to write it. Oh well.
Strike when the iron is hot, so they say. Writing, like many things, is something where you have to get over the initial hump to really get into the good stuff.
I still feel like I want to write about something I can relate to. However, my life is boring, no one wants to read a novel about cars, and I feel more like writing about roleplaying than writing on subject matter that would belong in a game. Though, that last sentence gave me a perverse idea for a story. This one's very vague, will need some serious flesh.
Back in a few. (hours? days? weeks? who knows?)
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