Rage of Bahamut Review

This is a modified version of a review I left on the iTunes App store for my latest gaming addiction. Yeah, I can still be addicted even though I'm calling the game "total crap" (as you can clearly see below this paragraph, even though you haven't yet begun reading it).

Rage of Bahamut is total crap. The developers call buying a single card for the game at $3.00 a card, a CARD PACK. Three dollars for one card. A card pack. Really?

By these terms, one cow is a "herd" and one bird is a "flock."

Oh, hang on a minute, there's a quiver of cobra on my porch. Must go shoo it away.*

It doesn't end there, to get six cards you must spend $20. Yes, you heard me. And that's because you can't buy the rage medals in anything other than big lots that require spending up. So you want to buy six cards for $15? You have to spend $20 because you can't buy just $15 worth of RAGE MEDALS (said in a Bigfoot Monster Truck racing advertisement voice).

Also, you should feel lucky. You're getting SIX cards for the price of ONE.

In real life if I want to play Magic ze Gathering, I am at least guaranteed a rare or a mythic rare card when I spend $4 for SIXTEEN cards. AND I can sell the cards if I want. Cygames or Mobage doesn't allow this. So you sink hundreds of dollars into building your deck for what? To be told you can't sell your virtual cards that YOU bought with REAL money?

It all comes down to Cygames or Mobage controlling the economy that surrounds the game. It would RUIN them if suddenly it was possible to buy a very rare card for $15 actual dollars on an auction site. Financially, they'd be in the hole. Suddenly the gears that moved forward the Cygames development department, the design and that glorious writing ("You follow the evil wizard into the pawn shop where he sells his wand for a new motorcycle!"), and all that paper and ink to print those fantastic cards . . .

They sell you one card for three bucks and guess what? It ends up being a crap card. Your loss. And if you're lucky and get a good card, you can't sell it for real money because that's against the rules. So keep the card. It's virtual. No care or actual space required. No big deal.

They'll never change it either as long as players continue to pay astronomical real life money for the rip-off card "packs" that don't even come with any sort of rarity guarantee (like Magic). So word of advice: if you're going to play this rigged game, don't spend real money on these virtual cards until things change. Money talks for all of us and you can't sell your cards for real money without potentially having your account banned.

But, well, Cygames will happily take your real money for six crap cards.

Adding insult to injury is the seedy underbelly of prostitution that's cropped up on the required social network app associated with the game. There are loads of people selling pornographic "pics and vids" for in-game cards.

Hello? So I can't spend actual real money on a card from someone other than Cygames/Mobage, but it's OK for a bunch of slutty chicks (whether or not they're real, I have no idea, but it seems plenty of dumb men are willing to fork over cards for the promised goods, judging from the visible-to-everyone conversations) to sell their bodies for cards? This is the equivalent of saying that prostitution is fine, but a money-based market is not.

Essentially the game is fun as long as you don't get frustrated with losing every battle because you don't spend thousands of dollars on "packs" of six cards to find the extremely rare cards that will win for you. But there are real issues that need to be addressed before I can say "this is a five-star" game.

Frankly I'm sick of games that require a continual influx of money for them to remain fun and viable. These games are the Amway, multi-level marketing scams of the modern age and it seems EVERYONE is willing to fall for them. Next to starting a religion (thank you L. Ron Hubbard), designing a game like this is the next best way to get filthy stinking rich. But really, I'd be willing to pay for the card packs if they WERE packs (i.e. the standard 12-16 cards for $4) with a rarity guarantee.

Until then, I won't.

That said (and this is one of the few ways to get decent free cards), if you decide to play after all, add my referral at the end of the tutorial and remember, don't pay real money for crap cards. Take my advice: not worth it. But multiply your chances to get free cards as much as possible such as by providing your referral code to new players.

Yes, it would seem I'm selling out. I admit it. Though I loathe the methodology of the game, I'm an addict. Hi, my name is Nicole. I'm currently addicted to ROB. And hey, by the way, you only get one chance to use the referral code. Using it will give you 50,000 rupees and a rare card, so be sure to do it. My referral code is xao95452.


*It was just one cobra. Oh whoops. Did I misuse a word? My bad. Count your blessings: at least you didn't spend three dollars on my mistake! 

Rage of Bahamut

I downloaded this game last night and have been confused the usual amount upon beginning to play it. And now I'm slowly getting a grasp on it. Just in time for it to wreak havoc on my goals.

I finished the first draft of "The Blue Hearts of Mars" two days ago, nice job, me. Thank you! And yesterday I began editing it. It's been fun.

Have I done any editing today? No. Because I was figuring out Rage of Bahamut. And so you see how my goals are being slowly dismantled by a fairly innocent-looking game. Here's a picture that will probably blow your mind with it's sheer awesomeness:

Doesn't that make you want to play it? It promises dragons. And...dragons! Lovely, lovely dragons!

But, truly, it's an inane game. And yet, if that's what you're looking for, can you fault it for being inane?

No.

And I was looking for inane.

What you do is you tap the screen when an "enemy" appears and your cards' stats determine whether or not you win. About three enemies appear, and then a treasure box appears. You open the treasure box and get some kind of treasure. A new card. Rupees (very original!). Or a ring or something.

Doesn't it sound amazing?

The best part is the anime-style drawings. The girl figures have the MOST offensive proportions, and they're always coupled with vacuous expressions. The most heinous expression imaginable on a woman or girl. Generally girls. Never, actually, women. Always, always girls. Too young girls.

Illustration of a vacuous expression for the hard-of-understanding. I didn't edit this. Beyonce really 

did achieve this expression all on her own. She must be thinking: "Single badies...no, single babies....no, 

single ladies....fing on it...no, that's not a word! Ding on it...no ring on it! Sigh. Who cares? I just love unicorns!"*

I still can't figure out why game developers cater to that facet of the market. I suppose because we women just deal with it. We look at a drawing of a stupid, brainless looking schoolgirl with humongous, unrealistic breasts and a vacuous expression on her face and sigh. And move on.

Because most of us aren't on crusades to change the world. And what's the point? This type of media seems to be designed for lonely, sad geeks who will never actually get to touch a pair of breasts like that. Ever. And you know what? That IS really sad.

I hope my sarcasm is detectable there. It's not that sad. There are sadder things in the world. Whether or not some dude gets to fulfill his fantasies isn't that depressing. I mean, I could MAKE it sad by writing a really sad story about it and we'd all indulge the notion that it IS the saddest thing in the world until we realized, wtf? There are truly worse things. And then everyone would deplore me for trivializing true tragedies by making THAT seem like a tragedy.

You know what I mean.

But I do go on. I'm exhausted now. That tangent went on WAY too long.

The truth is, I know I'm going to be sucked into this game more than is healthy. And a part of me really wants that. I went looking for it. And I'm happy to say, "Good riddance Dragonvale and Stardom: The A-list, you are pure crap now. I have Rage to fulfill my iPhone gaming needs. Thanks!"

So if you find this review of Rage, please don't be offended. I've only said what is true. You know it's true. But you don't care, because you're like me (unless you're male and you love the vacuous female character drawings) and you wanted a somewhat inane game that could monopolize your every thought that isn't related to subsisting and taking care of your cats and/or child (you probably don't have a child if you fit the stereotype, right, I mean, who are we kidding?).

And when you find this review, please look me up. My game name is obviously grotepas and my referral code is XAO95452. Please give me rupees and cards and referral bonuses. Now. Do it. DO IT!



*Meh. That was stupid. But I'm leaving it! Maybe it should be I with a vacuous expression! I mean, ME. Be ME with a vacuous expression.

Late onto the Bandwagon, As Usual: World of Warcraft

I made a huge mistake and got the game World of Warcraft. Heard of it?

It's one of the only decent games you can get for a Mac, and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Why do you need a game for Mac? Are you KIDDING ME? Why waste such a beautiful machine on a game?"

Some of you might be thinking that. Not all of you. Because maybe some of you are "gamers" like me. And for those of you who are like me, join my guild! I'm going to start a guild on WoW because I'm a born leader and where else to use my leading skills? Plus the guild I currently belong to is run by a fool. I still have yet to see a single thread of my guild tabard. What gives? A few days ago he was all, "I'll get back to you on that, I swear." And so far he's the only one with a tabard.

I need your signature for my guild charter, so let's meet by the bank in the big tree in Darnassus and you can sign it and we'll get you hooked up with a guild tabard, like, right away. And then we'll do things like ride our battlecats through the mountains outside Ironforge and get treasure and stuff. It'll rule.

See? That's why it was dumb to get WoW. Because now all I want to do is raid dungeons, get treasure, sell my treasures at the auction, buy pets, and explore. And what real world application does this even have? Is it making me a better human being? IS IT?

Well, to answer that question, the other day Stoker and I were at La Hacienda, our favorite restaurant (there are like ten La Haciendas in Nashville, all owned by different people), and I was in very good humors. Before we went, Stoker was joking about imposing a time limit on my WoW gaming . . . joking, because he would never ever do that. Never. Ever. Because he knows to never come between me and my games.

That's a joke. If my marriage was seriously on the rocks because of my devotion to gaming, I'd toss the games. No problem. None.

Anyway, while we were eating at La Hac, I made the observation that everything in life is much better if you pretend you're in the cantina in Star Wars, and all the humans are actually aliens and we're all from foreign lands with weird ideas, rules, and social norms. Because if you think that way (because really we ARE all kind of crazy and alien to each other, right?), then it's easier to get along, and everyone is much more interesting and exotic if you make believe that it's because we're all from different planets or completely foreign lands.

I also threw in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series to illustrate my point.

Stoker found it immensely funny. He humored me, but laughed and joked that he was mistaken when he suggested a time limit on my gaming in WoW. It was making me amiable and laid back. He suggested playing it more, and reading more fantasy because he really liked this new me.

And I'm right. I am. The problem with our world today, or at least one of the MANY MANY problems with our world today, is that we think we can streamline everyone into one big happy culture despite the societies and peoples that have developed over thousands of years with all their own ideas and ways to do things. I think that at the root of this is the politically correct movement. We are not all the same. From culture to culture, there are vast differences in world view. From family to family, even, there are vast differences.

In an effort to make everyone feel good about everything, to smooth over and politicize everything so that no one is EVER offended or hurt by the abhorrent thought that they might be wrong or slightly different, we pretend the differences don't exist.

The weird thing about this is that on the one hand, the politically correct movement says that diversity is good. Let's celebrate our differences. Let's have a week dedicated each year to the different cultures and races. One week it's Mexican week. Next it's French. Next it's Russian.

But on the other hand and at the very same time as supposedly being joyous about our differences, if you even point out or notice a difference between races or cultures, SHAME ON YOU. And the PC police arrest you and give you a thousand lashes for even DREAMING there's physiological or social differences from race to race or culture to culture.

It's dang hilarious. It's the old paradox, you're damned if you do and damned if you don't.

I, for one, love the idea that there are differences. Different races. Different cultures. Different ways to run a society. Because I love fantasy novels and World of Warcraft. I love that there are elves, humans, dwarves, gnomes, faeries, dragons, Wookies, and whatever race Yoda was. And that guy who played the clarinet-thing at the cantina. He was weird with those big eyes and that wrinkly nose. But I loved him. He was great. And I bet he played the clarinet-thing better than a human could because I bet he was physiologically more fit to be a clarinet-thing player.

Ha! Who KNEW?! Who knew I could make World of Warcraft have a real-life application? And one with so much insight, if I do say so myself.


_____________________________________

More video game magic:

How Dragon Age: Origins Interferes With Real Life

Inadvertently, I Let the Metaphorical Cat out of the Metaphorical Bag

Infamous and Flying in Video Games

Mercenary Team Deathmatch: How Call of Duty Relates to Real Life

Mercenary Team Deathmatch: How Call of Duty Relates to Life

I realized last night while playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (online) that my life can be expressed in the experience of Mercenary Team Deathmatch.

For those who are repulsed by video games, or who just don't understand them and who have no grasp on the particulars of Mercenary Team Deathmatch, it's simple: I'm on a team. Me and my team shoot the guys (or girls) on the other team.

It sounds boring, but if you like amusement park games where you target shoot or anything similar to that premise, you'd love online deathmatch. It's challenging. You run around trying to be stealthy and outsmart other humans who are much more inventive than a mere AI.

Not only that, the guns are accurate representations of actual guns in the real world. And since I enjoy gun stuff, I find that part of it compelling also.

Oh sure, sometimes I feel quite stupid that I've just spent an hour or two running around a fictional universe shooting fake people. But it's become a compulsion and as we all know, there is no refusal from within the grasp of compulsion.

A couple weeks ago I got arrogant and downloaded the new map pack from the Playstation Network. It costs $15 and it gives you access to several new locations for the slaughter-fest (spell check didn't like slaughterfest. I agree, it should not be allowed to enter the lexicon as a compound word. Too offensive).

I didn't think before I downloaded it that the only people who'd be downloading it are the real junkies. Addicts. These are the players who have devoted days—not hours—to the game. There are 70 levels a player can progress through and then, just to make it interesting, the game developers introduced what's known as Prestige leveling. That means that once you get to 70, you can start all over and progress from level 1 to level 70.

I know. It's a sickness.

There are special insignias next to your player name to identify what level you are, and there are even more special insignias to indicate how you're an insane moron who's Prestiged fifty thousand times. Because, to be gluttonous about it, you can do it more than once. Generally these players are unstoppable. And I hate them.

So I'm only on my first time. Level 67 or something. But I still suck. And here's the thing: a lot of your success depends on how well you know the maps, or the layout of the environment the game is in. Because if you're very familiar with it, you know what the other team will be doing. Surprise is a powerful weapon.

And this is how it's just like my life.

Quite often as I'm shooting someone (in the game—I feel I should specify that so as not to be mistaken for a serial murderer), I'll run out of bullets before they're dead and I have to reload. During that time, the opponent kills me. OR, another player from my team will step in and finish off my opponent, which gives me only an ASSIST in my stats menu. So when the game finishes and the stats are onscreen, inevitably I have a very low number of kills, and seven thousand assists.

See how it's like my real life?

I'm always just a step behind, or, while the real good crap's happening, I'm caught reloading. Or, before I can draw a bead and pull the trigger, my opponent has lightning reflexes and I'm dead.

So I respawn and lo and behold, the game puts me near the guy who just killed me, and he kills me again. And again. And before I can get anywhere or do anything, I've been killed ten times in a row without inflicting any damage on a single foe.

It's frustrating. I can never quite improve because the moment I start to get better, some bigger fish swims up, devours me, and spits out my bones. There's ALWAYS a bigger fish. I can never get comfortable. The moment I do, a swarm of evil soldiers or militia-men runs around the corner and slaughters me and I flounder helpless like a My Buddy doll wielding a useless Lego gun or some such nonsense.

And this is just like my life. Exactly like my life, in fact. No, but it's a fantastic metaphor, and it illustrates nicely the way I'm always a step behind. Some of us are mediocre at everything. I'm mediocre at everything because I lack the capacity to focus with laser-like precision because I'M ONLY HUMAN.

Harry.

But it's good. Because, as I was thinking this morning, do I seriously think those whom I perceive to be on top don't sweat bullets every time they make a career decision? Especially people in a fly-by-night industry like publishing, music, television, or film?

I was thinking about Garth Brooks, for some odd reason, choosing from the billions of demos that were most likely made just for him. Back in the day he was IT. I bet the choice gave him ulcers. I bet he worried that he wasn't picking the hits. I bet it's hard to tell which song will rock number one for fifty weeks, and I know because I hear some of the demos that run through Nashville and I think, dang, that's good.

And you know, no matter how high you get on the ladder, you always feel like you're struggling like hell to make it, and if you don't, you're either a moron or you're blind and I don't understand you. Life's a battle. A war zone. Mercenary Team Deathmatch.

So I hope you have a good team. I hope I have a good team. I know one thing, I need larger magazines and a steadier hand. And maybe a new controller. I think this one's broke. Heh heh. Excuses excuses.

____________________

Related Posts:

How Dragon Age: Origins Interferes with Real Life

Infamous and Flying in Video Games

"FINISH HIM!!!"

For several uninteresting reasons, I'm having a difficult time concentrating lately.

Who am I kidding? The reasons are actually incredibly fascinating. Because I'M interesting, mysterious, entertaining, and a whole host of related adjectives.

Seriously. It's undeniable. I keep a blog to make a record of my compelling opinions and intriguing adventures.

This morning I stopped at the Flatrock Cafe for a sausage biscuit. Stoker got a breakfast casserole and Larry, the manager, gave him a large helping. Stoker lamented that he didn't think he'd be able to finish it because he was full already, but he felt bad not finishing it. Then he said in an evil overlord voice, "FINISH HIM!!!!!"

I laughed. Raucously. Sometimes I realize after I've already emitted an obscene laugh like that, that I'm laughing obscenely. And then I want to apologize immediately to let people know that I know that my laughter was inappropriately loud. No one cares at that point, but sometimes it's nice to try to convey that you WANT to be genteel, even if you're not by nature.

The reason my laugh was so loud and obnoxious was due to the reference-humor. Is there such a thing? I'm sure there's a genre or sub-genre of humor that's referential and that's where it gets its power. I don't know the name of it, so I'm calling it reference-humor and in my case, it's based on some weird personal quirk I once told Stoker about.

You know what I'm talking about. Some purely stupid phenomenon you possess and it baffles the heck out of you that you even do it, let alone that you're AWARE of it, but somehow cannot make it stop?

It kills me that Stoker remembers such things. He's got a mind like a steel-trap.

A while ago I told him how it really really bugs me when I think to myself anything relating to the word finish. Like, "I need to finish the vacuuming, then I can play PS3." Or, "Once I finish this sandwich, I'll do the dishes." Or, "Holy crap, I'm NEVER going to finish painting the mudroom."

Inevitably after I think to myself something about finishing anything, my mind always drifts to the next obvious thought: Mortal Kombat. When the evil announcer guy says after you've almost beaten your opponent, "FINISH HIM!!!!!" And the type is all blood-red in an evil, creepy way.

So things like, "I need to finish the vacuuming, then I can play PS3," end up followed by the with the haunting echo, "FINISH HIM!!!!!!" Turning the relatively harmless task of cleaning into an evil slaughter in the living room wherein Liu Kang's spine is ripped from his body and lifted triumphantly over Scorpion's head*--a bloody, grisly trophy.

It's gotten so tiresome, in fact, that I try not to EVER think of finishing tasks ("FINISH HIM!!!!!!"). That way, I never have to experience the transformation of these mundane daily moments into Kombat to the death. It's not that I don't love to finish things ("FINISH HIM!!!!!") and it's not that I don't love video games, it's that I don't LOVE the confusion of reality with video game reality.

But I DO love it when Stoker remembers the things I have said and casually tosses them out in appropriate moments and makes me laugh obscenely.




*Secret finishing-move not guaranteed to belong to Scorpion. I haven't played it recently enough to recall WHOSE finishing move the de-spiner is. It could be any one of the vicious fighters.

How Dragon Age: Origins Interferes with Real Life

I made a huge mistake this weekend.  I purchased and began playing Dragon Age: Origins.  Game Informer reviewed it and said that it was awesome with the caveat that the PS3 version plays like a completely different game, therefore it only gets an 8 compared to the PC version's 9.  I guess I should feel lucky because I don't know if I'd be able to pull myself away from the PC version, as it is I could go without sleeping, eating, and breathing just to play the PS3 version.  

If you want to be great at anything, according to Malcolm Gladwell, you have to put in ten thousand hours to get there.  You see how Dragon Age is interfering with that?  And not just Dragon Age.  The PS3 is interfering with all of that.  You have no idea the time I've spent lamenting the gradual re-socialization back into regular society I've gone through since leaving college in 2004.  First I let television back into my life, then it was reading books not having to do with my major, then it was marriage, then it was computer games and video games.  

Ok, in all fairness, the marriage was good.  And the books, they're good too because for reasons beyond me, reading does something healthy for a person—something television and film can never do.  I don't know what it is, but I typically come away from a book feeling just a bit more intelligent.  I never feel that way after watching an episode of "How I Met Your Mother," though I really love that show.  And gaming is incredibly addicting and I feel that it IS rewarding in some ways, but . . . it's not healthy to be sitting here pondering what will happen next in Dragon Age and hoping to spend the next five or six hours finding out.  Is it?

To be honest, I understand that I've really got to control this absurd desire.  I wish I'd never gotten the game in a way, it's too good!  I had Assassin's Creed II to get into still, and that was the plan, because I just finished Batman Arkham Asylum so I could trade it in (awesome game) and get a different game, which is where Dragon Age came in.  

But what I want more than Assassin's Creed II and Dragon Age is to be the pied piper of writing.  What? Yeah, I want hypnotize people with my mesmerizing stories so totally that they'll follow me off a cliff, but in a good way.   

It's easy to look at people around you and see their success and think, "Man, they're so lucky."  Ha ha ha! Reason tells you that the majority of people didn't just arrive somewhere satisfying in their career without a struggle, and reason is usually right.  But man is it easy to think lazy thoughts like that.  Even my thoughts are lazy!  That's my main problem.  Laziness. Which also contributes to my gaming addiction.  Much, much easier to create a satisfying story by taking part in it, in a game.  

I read an interview with Orson Scott Card about the Hidden Empire series and he spoke of his love for video games.  He said he eventually had to give them up because they interfered with his writing.  It's true. Life can interfere with the things that matter to you.  You have to hold onto them and you have to think hard about them, otherwise you can easily get swept away in the current of prime time sitcoms and dramas, ridiculously awesome video games, and surfing the web.  

I guess what I'm saying is that Dragon Age: Origins is an awesome game and it might just be my undoing. So good job to Bioware, you geniuses you. And also, sorry this post is all over the place.  It's probably because I'm thinking about what's at the top of the mage tower.  Will I be able to beat whatever's up there or should I have waited to be a higher level before doing the quest?  Should I have killed that stupid blood mage or was it OK to let her live?  I tend to be so merciful it's sick.  I'll probably be killed by one of the characters I let go free—stabbed in the back in the midst of battle.  Betrayal is so bitter!  

Great Day for a Pilgrimage

Spring days like this remind me of college, especially the years that I read the Canterbury Tales, which, looking back, seems like every year in college. I was in college for eight years. And what do I have to show for it?* Hahaha. Oh the humor, oh the enormous student loans.

If I could go back, of course I'd NOT take out student loans. But hey, who I am today has been shaped by the weight of those student loans. Right? It's a compression chamber. I'm stuck in it and I'm looking beautiful. The gray hair, the wrinkles, the advanced old age and I'm barely thirty! (I can still say that at 31, right?)

Well anyway, it's an awesome day and here I am at the a coffee house working on a short story, that is, I'm not outside enjoying this absolutely GORGEOUS day. I've been extremely absent from blogging and at this point, I don't feel like a moron when I tell you that it's largely because I've spent every spare writing minute working on a novel. And now I have two novels, and it only took me . . . three years to get to this point. Three? Or two? I'm not about to try to figure out the exact length of time on that, but you'll understand when I say that spare time doesn't just happen. A person has to rob other parts of their life to get it, and when one does that, whatever one uses that time for better be for a good cause.

Maybe it was different for you, but when I was in elementary school, there was a spot on my report card for a grade regarding time. It read like this: "Uses time wisely." And I think we were given a number grade, like 1 for good, 2 for ok, 3 for "thinks eating paste is a good use of time." I never stop hearing that terrible voice in my head (your report card didn't have a lording tone to it? Hm. Weird. Mine did.), "Uses time wisely." And I'm constantly being judged. I can't even sit down to play Assassin's Creed II on a Saturday morning without hearing the damning echoes of the elementary school report card all around me. Back in elementary school, I think I always got 1s on "Uses time wisely" because I ruled in elementary school. If only it had carried over into the rest of my life.

But it didn't and that's why I'm using one of the most perfect Saturdays of the year to sit indoors and finish a short story. I could be halfway to Canterbury Cathedral by now. I could be laughing my pants off at the Wife of Bath and her gap-toothed smile. I could be spinning my own tale of tragedy, romance, or heroism, and maybe I could win. Well, I guess sitting in a coffeehouse, writing a short story is the closest any of us will get to a story-telling contest on the way to a holy shrine.

Yes, I'll sit here while others laze about in the sun, soaking up the rays and reading the paper, and others roll leisurely by on their bicycles. I'll just pretend I'm going to win a contest. I'll just tell my story-telling guts out. Maybe I WILL win and this day won't have been a waste after all.

*Just this:

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote/ The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote, / And bathed every veyne in swich licour, / Of which vertu engendred is the flour; / Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth / Inspired hath in every holt and heeth / The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne / Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, / And smale fowles maken melodye, / That slepen al the night with open ye, / (So priketh hem nature in hir corages: / Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, / And palmers for to seken straunge strondes, / To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes; / And specially, from every shires ende / Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, / The holy blisful martir for to seke, / That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.

Beautiful? I know. Thank you, Geoffrey, thank you. Worth eight years of my life? No argument there.

Infamous and Flying in Video Games

Infamous is a fantastic game. I became addicted immediately upon playing the demo. The reason? Like the levitation skill in Morrowind, the Infamous developers wisely gave the character Cole the ability to float using electricity. After I completed the demo, I had dreams I was Cole, floating down from the tops of buildings, some kind of guardian angel bringing justice in my wake, zapping the bad guys (known as Reapers and Dustmen), and resuscitating victims of the plague.

Not to complain, but Bethesda (the developer of Morrowind and Oblivion) was stupid to exclude the levitation skill when they created Oblivion, the sequel to Morrowind. Flying, floating, gliding, levitating -- these are magical abilities that no game should lack. As I marvel at my addiction to Infamous, and I observe the formation of an attachment to the new Batman game (which utilizes the Bat's ability to glide), I see a common thread. I feel no strange addictions to Oblivion (no levitating), yet the passion endures for Morrowind (levitation).

I understand it all now. Flying is the key. When Bethesda decided to scratch levitation from the list of skills for the incredibly forgetful world in Oblivion, they were essentially demoting the title from awesome to crapsome.

Man has dreamed of flight since his first glimpse of a bird taking to the sky. Do you remember your nightly dreams? If you do, which dreams are the best? Did you say flying dreams? I know you said flying dreams because those are the best dreams. They're about freedom, escape, joy, and power, and so much more. Even if everything else in your life sucks, when you have a dream about being able to fly, the most magical thing happens in your soul -- something to do with hope and not being constrained by earth and all its woes.

The caveat here is that the flying-type skill must be in direct defiance to gravity. It can't be out in space. It also has to be in human form, it can't be a man flying in a jet or anything of that nature. Because the dream isn't to be trapped in a jet or any other contraption (though I thank you Wright brothers), it's to be a person who can fly. Or float. Or levitate.

So anyway. That's the reason Oblivion, which could have been as awesome as Morrowind, failed to live up to its potential. It's why the new Batman game is next on my list, why Super Mario 3 was so amazing (the raccoon tail, remember?), and it's also why I had to buy Infamous immediately after playing the demo and having dreams about it.

The other night I was, of course, playing Infamous. I came to the quest where Cole must climb the tower of junk in the middle of the slum district with his friend Zeke. At this stage, the floating ability makes it possible to reach the highest platform, using a series of steel beams and discarded neon signs.

So as I was guiding Cole up the tower, Stoker was sitting next to me, watching, and I kept missing the last beam. I basically ran in circles enough to earn the Frequent Flyer Trophy (something for the online PS3 community) because I couldn't turn Cole to catch the beam just right. It was frustrating.

I probably went in circles ten or twelve times before I finally let Stoker take the controller to try it. He'd been watching, judging me to be an incompetent player I'm sure, thinking secretly (I'm sure), that he could do it--because that's what you do when you're watching someone else play a video game. You think, "Man are they an idiot? I could do it in like three seconds." Not that Stoker would EVER think me an idiot. But he was thinking, "I could do this. Piece of pie."

I gave him the controller and thought, "Good. Now he'll know how much skill it actually takes to master the floating ability and he'll have no choice but to admire me." I told him which buttons did what, and sat back to observe him as he failed to guide Cole to the top platform.

But he succeeded on his first try.

Now, you're probably thinking that I acted like a brat for being slightly humiliated--after all, Stoker hadn't played Infamous until that moment. I don't deny that I normally would have said something snide or excused my inability to accomplish this apparently easy feat with the complaint that my wrists were tired, or my thumb had started to hurt, or I had eye-fatigue. But I didn't do any of that, because you know what, sometimes it's cool to let other people be heroes.

Yes, I'm that great. I can let others feel that they're superior to me. But only because deep down, I KNOW that I'm the best.

Ha ha.

Stoker immediately gave the controller back to me, feeling very smug inside, I just know it. I said to him, "The floating ability is addicting, isn't it?"

And he said, "Yeah, it is." And there was a look of longing in his eyes to keep on floating. To glide down from incredibly high buildings, to grind across electrical wires between buildings and launch into the sky like a bird, and skate over monorail tracks like a human rail car. Oh yes. It's a great feeling.

I Was Lying When I Said Agency Wars Is Cool Game

Can I take back everything I said about Agency Wars? I take it back. What a rip! The game is worse than a "Choose Your Own Adventure" novel.

Let me explain why I now loathe it. I upgraded to the 250 version (this has to do with reward points. If you do that, you can buy a very powerful gun -- you need the gun because if you don't have it, you continuously get robbed and never make any money), but I accidentally hit the WRONG button on my Ipod and ended up with TWO of the same gun! (Because I got the gun that only cost 100 reward points, dumb choice I know). What's the good of two of the same gun*?!! AND I CAN'T SELL IT! So much for "superb in-game economics" or whatever their line is on their dumb App page. Also, you have the option of "buying a passport" when you travel so you don't "get assassinated."** These passports aren't cheap. I buy them. But I still get assassinated. Nice work. Jerks.

There you have it.

Enough about mind-numbing role-playing games***. For my birthday I bought all five of the Chronicles of Prydain. I was worried that I had been silly when I first read them and would find them lacking, like I sort of did with the David Eddings series the Belgariad when I tried to reread it during college. I began reading The Book of Three today (the first book in Prydain) and I am not disappointed. Maybe all those years studying English lit. have worn off and I am back to my normal self who can enjoy a good story. Ha ha. Sad, isn't it? How college can taint your world view and socialize you to be a cultural elitist with snobby opinions that are direct reflections of the opinions held by your professors?

I'm kidding, of course.

No, I'm kidding that I'm kidding. I want to go back for my PhD, but I fear that if I do, I'll be suffocated by the stupidity surrounding me.



*In the context of the game, two of the same gun is pointless. In real life, two of the same gun might be nice. I might like to have two AR-15s or two AK-47s or even TWO 1911s. But in this game, it's redundant and useless and even MORE of a waste of real life money than if I hadn't made a mistake and bought the more powerful of the high damage guns.
**Overuse of "scare" quotes intentional to illustrate irritation about game company's lies.
***Here's a question: why do I even WANT to play those games when I have a PS3? Or a computer and can play Guild Wars? I'm sick, that's what I am. Sick!

Agency Wars. M16 Agent #78930. Shaken, Not Stirred.

Stoker told me last week he'd gotten a little something for my birthday and asked me to not look at the bank account. I thought, Ok, he's gotten me a book, or a video game, or tickets to the soccer game. Because it was a little something.

So the little something he gave me last Friday turned out to be an Ipod Touch. Excellent present and I haven't been able to stop caressing it and downloading apps and playing games on it. We're Verizon users and will never switch to AT&T and thus the Iphone is useless to me. But the Touch works for us. Stoker has one as well.

I'm addicted to Agency Wars.

It's a role playing game where you pick an agency, CIA, M16, KGB or one from a variety of others that I'd never heard of until yesterday, and then you go on missions for the agency. You earn money and buy weapons and sell weapons to other real life players. If you have the Iphone, you can apparently go to real time locations for missions--I assume it's all legal and whatnot ha ha ha. I played it for too many hours yesterday and I'm embarrassed about it, and all I have to show for it is that I'm a level 13.

One of the first things I did was try to attack Jungmaster, a level twenty million or something. As you can probably imagine, there was really no contest. He had some outrageous gun and I think I only had a measly handgun or something (in the game guns are one-offs, like a WaltheN PPK). Jungmaster won the fight and then of course he had to turn around and teach me a lesson by actually KILLING me. And it did teach me a lesson. Thereafter I only attacked other agents who were a level or two below me. Unfair, but I need the money and experience in order to rise in the ranks (new goal, reach level 30 million and kill Jungmaster).

It's not personal, it's business.

Others have attacked me and some of them have won. But I add them to my hitlist and if I ever surpass them in weaponry or by leveling, I get my revenge. Oh yes, I get revenge, my friend.

The interface of the game resembles one of those blue screen type programs you always see in detective/FBI/24 type shows. I doubt the real-life databases look like that (who knows?), but it lends an air of sophistication to the game despite reality, and in some ridiculous, romantic part of your brain, you feel like you COULD be a government spy engaging in espionage and other James Bond tom-foolery without actually being in danger. So you get all the good part of the fantasy sans the threat of death or torture. In short, I feel that the game rocks.

Yes. All morning I've been devising a way to get to a free WiFi location so I can check on my status. It seems that while offline, others can attack your agent and steal your money (JERKS!). What comes around goes around. Anyone who messes with me will be dealt with, I assure you.

On a different note, my main criticism is that their server kicks me off quite often. I could forgive this if the game was free (like Guild Wars), but since the full game is not free, I can't forgive it. Another improvement would be to enhance the in-game selling feature. To sell to other players, you simply list your price then the item disappears from your inventory. If the item is ever sold, the amount appears in your account. But you never hear for sure, and since you're constantly making money, it's hard to be certain if you've ever sold the item.

Anyway, as you can see the game is quite enthralling. For me anyway.

Add me (other agents know what that means. If you're not already an agent, become one and add me)*.




*What it means is that in the game, to do certain harder missions, you have to have a number of contacts. It's hard to make contacts because for some ridiculous reason, you can only add them with the agent number (or some other intrusive way like with an email address). Basically you have to go online and advertise your agent number in some way. So get the game and add me. And then we can do joint missions. Cassi, this means you.

New Addiction: Guild Wars

The ol' younger sister, Cassi, gave me Guild Wars for Christmas. She gave it to the two of us, Stoker and me, but let's be honest. She really meant it for me. She lives in Omaha and I live in Nashville, and yet we can play the game together. I'm a child of the 80s, so I'm used to the computer, virtual world (remember VR.5? That was a cool show. I wish it had lasted), but still, WHAT the hell?

I'm probably the only one still reeling from the fact that Cas and I can meet up in a completely virtual game world and chat and adventure together. I log in, my guy is standing there (my first character, a ranger, Kail Pinefox -- yeah, I made that up. Stupid? Probably), I check to see if Cas is online, she is, I whisper to her something like, "Hey," and the next thing I know, her mesmer (a character, like a ranger) is running up to me with his little mask and guild cape on. It KILLS me. Then we talk and the conversation floats above our heads in balloons.

"What should we do?"

"I don't know, whatever."

It's just like real life.

"Well, I still need some more ranger skills before we advance out of Ascalon city."

"Ok. Let's go find some. I know where to go."

Of course she does. She's been playing for 8 months.

Anyway, I'm still in love with Morrowind. And I'm also in love with those (ridiculous) books about the vampires, Twilight and New Moon, etc. I admit it. I'm a fool for pop culture these days.

Mainlining Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind

I've made a huge mistake. I bought myself a copy of Morrowind and now I can't stop playing it. If you need me, I'll be in Balmora, pawning dishes, goblets, and vases so I can increase my alchemy skill and maybe afford some spells.

Two days ago I got lost on my way to Mt. Zand. I ran across an escaped Argonian slave and decided to have mercy on the fool (he really is a fool: he says weird things. But maybe that's just the language barrier. And maybe it's because he was emotionally abused as a slave and I'm just an insensitive jerk). Now the two of us are on our way to Ebonheart.

I can't tell if I contracted a disease while in the creepy mountains, but for some reason my character kept wanting to ask the Ashlanders (mountain elves) about disturbing dreams. A bit later I read in a book about vampires (in the game) that people who are becoming vampires report having disturbing dreams. To be on the safe side, I drank a cure disease potion. I don't want to become a vampire. Maybe another time.

If I sound like I have no idea what's going on in the game, it's because I don't. But I love it just the same. Don't try to talk to me when I'm playing. I'm a zombie. Don't even come around once I move on to Oblivion (Elder Scrolls IV). I'm behind the times, but I predict that I'll find its name perfectly descriptive. Stoker will feel like he no longer exists to me once I begin playing it. I'm disgusting. Don't look at me. Yes, that's drool. I forgot to swallow, so sue me.

Inadvertently, I Let the Metaphorical Cat Out of the Metaphorical Bag

I've been trying to work on my book. Oops, the cat’s out of the bag. Yes, I’m one of the millions out there writing a book. Now you know the truth about me. Silly, hopeful girl, writing a book, you’re thinking. Well it's partly why I've disappeared. I recently reworked the beginning and felt pretty elated about that. 


So I had Stoker read it, just about 8 pages. And he gave me some constructive criticism, which I appreciated very much and agreed with what he said. But then I got depressed because I’m one of those types, and he didn’t come back and lavish me with praise for my mind-blowing writing skills. Because that’s what you have to do with me. So I haven’t worked on it for a few days.

Then the other night Stoker told me he was worried that I haven’t worked on it because he didn’t give the reaction I needed to keep going. And yes, that’s true. I had to tell him the truth. “All I wanted,” I said, “was a few positive words. That would have sufficed. Such as, ‘Where’s the rest, Nikki? It’s sooo good, I’m hungry for the rest.’ That would have made want to keep going.” As it is, being depressed and everything, I doubt very much that I can write at all. Even the things I truly love don’t appeal to me. Except Stoker. He still appeals to me.

Anyway, we worked it out and he does want to read more of it. In fact, I seem to have overlooked that he told me he wanted to read more at the time (but that hardly counts as lavish praise, which is what I needed, being emotional high maintenance like I am). But I’d extrapolated from that, at the time, that he just thought it sucked and was hoping that it would get better. You know. It’s easy to extrapolate.

The other reason I’ve disappeared is actually two reasons, but they’re related. One: Stoker bought me a computer game called Rise of Nations. I’m told this game is very much like Civilization. Anyway, it’s consuming all my spare time because I’m obsessed and must conquer everything. I do alright on the easy level, but once I switch to moderate, the computer wastes me (you should know, there’s an easier level than easy level. This level is known as easier). It’s very unfair. I barely have time to amass an army. To keep my morale up, last night I switched back to easy, amassed an enormous army, and laid waste to Alaric’s (king of Austria) villages. He was at my mercy and begged for peace, which of course I granted because I’m such a sweetheart. It was beautiful.

The other reason is yet another game, Prince of Persia: Sands of Time. This is an Xbox game, and I’m hell bent on conquering it (I only just started playing video games again). Recently Stoker bought us a wireless controller, which I’ve had to test. Several times. And for several hours on each occasion. Who can blame me? It’s too hot out to do anything remotely active and so I stay in, entertaining myself through various means such as reading, writing, playing video and computer games. Plus I clean, do the laundry, wash the dishes, exercise and etc. I’m amazing. I’m super woman*.

With all these great things keeping me busy, how can I be depressed, you ask? The answer is that I don’t know. Perhaps it’s a lack of direct sunlight or something. Maybe I’m like a flower. Or a vine. A tomato plant. Something that requires direct sunlight. Finish the metaphor for me because I’ve reached my limit.

Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I’ve recovered and I feel the fire burning again. The fire, that is, for finishing my book. I was reading through it, a later part, like page 70 or thereabouts, and realized, I’m an amazing writer. Damn amazing. If I finish it and can’t find a publisher, I’ll be 100% convinced that all publishers are insane. It’s good stuff.

I have to tell myself stuff like that—stuff like “I’m amazing”—and be convinced, or else I’d quit. You see, perhaps I truly suck and I just don’t get it. But the point is to keep going. That’s the point of writing a book or completing any large task, and even the point to life. You have to keep going regardless of how awful something is. But to keep going you must fool yourself into thinking you’ve really got something here. Something worth something.

*Stoker helps. He’s very good at doing his part. Just didn’t want you to think that I do it all.