Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Surly, Acne-Ridden Twits

Before I stat this, don't forget about the Halloween image caption contest. I talked about it in yesterdays post, so you can read about it there or on the forums.

Here it is, my last Halloween blog, detailing one of my all-time favorite monsters.

Consider this: You are hanging out, going about your life, when you suddenly began to experience strange, often horrifying changes. You begin to eat more, your personality starts to change, and your clothes no longer fit. You want to stay out later and later and find yourself struggling to get out of bed in the morning. You find yourself looking at others, especially members of the opposite sex, differently. That girl or guy you would never have talked to before is suddenly strangely attractive, juicy, even.

Perhaps most alarming, hair begins to grow where there had been none before.

Ultimately, you wake up naked one morning with a horrible taste in your mouth, and no idea where you or your clothes might be.

It is then that the horrible, inconceivable truth hits you.

You have become a teenager.

No, really. You hit puberty and have become a teenager. What did you think I was talking about? Lycanthropy? Werewolves?

Please, teenagers are far more frightening than werewolves. For one thing, you can shoot a werewolf. You just have to put up with teenagers. I would far prefer dealing with a werewolf over a teen any day of the week.

For example:
Teenagers are always moody and temperamental. Werewolves only change once a month.

You can lock a werewolf in a cage when it starts to change. You cant really lock a kid up until he turns 20.

Werewolves act like wolves and are therefore predictable. There is no algorithm on earth that can predict how a teen will act.

Werewolves are vicious, bloodthirsty animals that wont think twice about ripping you to pieces. Teens have cell phones and wont think twice about running up your bill.

You rarely have to deal with a surly werewolf when ordering at McDonalds.

The good news is that teenagers will eventually grow up and become actual people. Unless, of course, werewolves and teenagers merge into wereteens. These would be adults who, a couple nights a week, revert to being surly, acne-ridden twits who just want to hang out at the mall and play video games.

Some things are just too horrible to contemplate.


Caption Contest

In honor of our special Halloween picture, we have decided to hold a Caption Contest. In the Halloween picture, Iri is saying something to Lily. Is it a threat? A compliment? A vow to get Leigh for drawing her in that outfit? You tell us. Simply log onto the forum, find the Halloween Caption Contest thread and post your favorite captions. Post as many as you like, theres no limit.

Later in the week, Leigh and I will decide which one we like best and the winner will get a special desktop of the Halloween picture.

For those not already on the forum, the button is on the upper right hand side of the main Wayfarers Moon page (www.wayfarersmoon.com).

Happy Halloween,

Monday, October 29, 2007

300 Spartans on a Plane

Truly hysterical.

If 300 and Snake on a Plane had an illegitimate child:


Warning: slightly gory.


Friday, October 26, 2007

Another Waste of Time

Heres another little game with which to wile away the weekend.



Thursday, October 25, 2007

Unsexy Dead People

So, having talked about vampires yesterday, I thought today I would talk about mummies. I am not referring to Imhotep from the recent Mummy and the Mummy Returns (he was more of a sorcerer, really), but the classic 1932, Boris Karloff mummy of yore.

I gotta say, mummies never did much for me. Even as a kid, I keyed in pretty quickly on the fact that I could easily outrun one. Sure, the mummy is basically unstoppable and will pursue you for the rest of your life, but really, once the mummy shows up, all you have to do is move cross country and then you have another year or so before it shows up again. Sure, this would play havoc with your work and social life, but think of the mileage you would get out of it at parties.

Insufferable Jerk: I just took my company public, made a couple hundred mil, and bought a yacht, an island, and George Washingtons wooden teeth. How about you?

You: Well, its hard to concentrate on work when youre being relentlessly pursued by an unstoppable 3000-year old Egyptian pharaoh.

Supermodel: That is sooo cool.

Frankly, mummies are much less scary than your typical zombie. A zombie could have at least been someone you knew, whereas a mummy is just a dead guy.

However, this brings me to the single greatest idea I have ever had. A mummy is relentless. It never stops. It is the undead equivalent of the Energizer Bunny sans the drum.

Now here is the idea: Build a sturdy cage. Put a treadmill in it. Hook said treadmill up to your house, so that by using the treadmill, your house gets power. Lure the mummy into the cage and then lock it in.

Voila, you now have a permanent power source. As the mummy pursues you, it generates power. It never stops pursuing, so you basically have endless power. Once it gets going, you can just build a wall around it. You never even have to look at it.

Sometimes I amaze even myself.


Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Sexy Dead People

I have realized it will soon be Halloween. I know this because there are humungous candy displays in the grocery stores and a glut of really bad horror movies on cable. Yes, I am that clueless about dates. Whenever I talk to my mother, she always asks if I called someone on their birthday, which was last week. I always reply that I did not, as I did not know. I then ask her to remind me before the actual birthday, but so far, no dice.

However, as it is Halloween, I have decided to do a few blogs about monsters and some of the various Halloween traditions. First off, vampires.

Now at some point in the last century, vampires became sexy. Now some of you may not realize this, but historically, vampires were not attractive, brooding loners with a penchant for black clothes who whined about their lot in life (unlife).

Vampires used to actually be scary. People were afraid of them.

No, really. I am not kidding.

Vampires were EVIL. Bad evil, not cool evil. They would actually kill you. And they would do it in a messy, and above all, painful way. And they were ugly. Not in a disheveled, hip, too-cool-to-care-about-my-appearance way, but in a not-human, holy &#@! what-is-that kind of way.

Vampires did not agonize over moral decisions. They did not feel pity or remorse. They did not hang out in coffee shops or Hot Topic. People were takeout food, so to speak.

Now, I am not saying these new, coiffed vampires are a bad thing (pun intended), but I think the pendulum has swung too far to one side. Sure, I loved Underworld and Blade and Buffy, but there should be some love for the misshapen, flesh ripping, soul-eating, malodorous, non-recycling, village-slaughtering monstrosities as well.

But maybe that is just me.


Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Please Remove the Lamprey

I was at a party the other night. Eventually, I found myself on the sofa, chatting with a rather inebriated fellow who was eating very large handfuls of trail mix from a bowl on the coffee table.

It occurred to me, as this nameless individual (he probably had a name, I just never learned it) wolfed down said trail mix that I might have to give him the Heimlich Maneuver. In a worst case scenario, I might even have to give him an emergency tracheotomy.

As we chatted, three things occurred to me:
1) I might need a really sharp knife
2) My warrior needs a butt-load of Fel-Iron
3) How would I know when I needed to perform the tracheotomy?

I mean, if this guy is choking to death, how will I know when to actually perform said tracheotomy? And how long is it going to take to farm all that Fel Iron?

I then had a brilliant idea: emergency-specific flash cards.

This would be a set of cards with specific emergency messages pre-printed upon them, to be used in case you cannot adequately convey what is needed. For example: I am choking to death. Please perform an emergency tracheotomy.

Other, useful cards might include:
Please remove the lamprey from my buttocks
The knife in my head is not fake
Please collect my limb(s) for potential reattachment
I am on fire
I am currently falling to my death. Please provide a parachute, trampoline or other gravity-defying device
Please distract the lion eating my leg. If possible, recover my leg.

Granted, to be truly prepared would require a large assortment of cards, making it difficult to find the correct one. Therefore, the first card in the pack would read: I am having an emergency moment. Please be patient while I locate the correct card to adequately convey my situation.


Monday, October 22, 2007


I would like to announce that we now have a page up on Comixpedia. There's a plot summary, brief bios of the cast, and a snippet about three of the featured races.

Check it out: www.comixpedia.org.


Friday, October 19, 2007

A Horrible Waste of Time

Last week I rediscovered Desktop Tower Defense. Its a weirdly fun (and massively addictive) game. I played it for hours until I managed to beat Hard. I then played for hours more trying to maximize my score (7600-ish, which is meh).

Do not, under any circumstances, click on the link below unless you have time to kill.


You have been warned.


Thursday, October 18, 2007

A Very True Story

This is a story of courage, fortitude and intelligence. It is completely true. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Actually, this is a story of complete and utter stupidity masked by brilliance. It is actually completely true. These are our real names.

I was around 18 and in my first year of junior college (Hartnell Junior College, home of the Fighting Somethings – I totally cannot remember – some sort of cat I think). Me and my best bud Mike decided to take a quick trip between classes. Now, I happened to have the nice car that day, an expensive Toyota four-door, rather than the mustard color truck I normally drove, so we took my car.

Upon returning from our trip, we hopped out, locked the doors via the automatic door lock and started on our way. However, for inexplicable reasons, the door locks popped back up.

I locked the doors again and shut the door. Once again, the door locks popped up (if you can see where this is going, you are much smarter than I was at 18).

Third time, same result.

Now, in our defense, the car did have electrical problems, meaning that the sunroof would occasionally open at random, so we figured that there was some weird electrical thing going. We began to lock and shut the doors rapidly, assuming that eventually the locks would stay down.

Eventually, we noticed that if you pulled the door handle at the right time, the lock on that door would stay down. So, we hit upon a strategy. I would lock the doors and we would both pull on the handles on each side of the car at the same time, thereby ensuring that the doors stayed locked.

This proved to be much harder than it sounded, but we persevered. We were, after all, highly intelligent college-types with excellent hand-eye coordination. Eventually, we managed to get all the doors locked. This had taken us probably 15-minutes, but in the end, we had triumphed.

Just as I was giving Mike the thumbs up, I realized something. My keys were still in the ignition. The doors kept unlocking because it was a safety device to prevent people from locking their keys in the car.

Still, we congratulated each other. After all, we managed to defeat the security device. Our victory was short-lived, however, as I then realized that I had to call my mom to come unlock the car. Mom showed up, heard the story, commented that we were idiots and unlocked the car. Later that night at dinner, Dad wondered why he was bothering to send me to college.

Some months ago, Mike got married. At one point, I leaned over to him and said Hey, remember that time we locked the keys in the car at Hartnell?

He smiled and nodded Truly, he said. One of our finest hours.

His new wife then walked over. What are you guys talking about?

Nothing. We both responded. I gave him a thumbs up.


Wednesday, October 17, 2007

+3 Shield of Fiber: Part 2

As I pointed out yesterday, not every barbarian or pickpocket has the looks or the style to cut it as a real hero. Here are a few magic-items that might help bring them up to the standards we expect from our fantasy heroes. Feel free to use them in your campaigns.

The +3 Shield of Fiber
The item that started the whole blog. A player asked what bonus another players shield had and when told it was a +2, responded with an Oh, is that all, which prompted me to respond with What do you want, a +3 Shield of Fiber? The Shield of Fiber keeps you, well, regular. Because theres nothing worse than having to duck out of the fight with the Overlord of Terror because those Iron Rations are acting up. Conan surely never did.

+2 Rapier of Wit
Not every swashbuckler has the quick wit needed to add insult to injury (I know I do not). This rapier not only provides extra sting, but also feeds the bearer lines during combat. Your only retort will no longer be Oh yeah!

Pointy Hat of Tallness
Wizards judge each other by their hats. The bigger the hat, the more powerful one must be. Its the equivalent of a really big sword for the robe and staff set. This hat automatically gets taller if it senses another hat of greater height in its vicinity, always ensuring that its wearer has the biggest one. Care should be taken when going through doors however.

The Comb-Over of the Gods
A major artifact, the Comb-Over of the Gods resembles a regular comb, save that it can take the thinnest, wispiest strand of hair and turn it into a head of hair so thick that even a wooly mammoth would feel inadequate. From crewcut to dreadlocks, the comb can create any hairstyle, though oddly enough, it wont do a mullet.


Tuesday, October 16, 2007

+3 Shield of Fiber

After an hour, the mage finished the last rune to needed to complete the eldritch ring.

Give me the sword, he said, holding out a bony hand.

Its about time, grunted the warrior, holding out the massive two-handed sword. He smirked as the mage almost dropped the weapon, but never-the-less took a step back when it was unsheathed and placed within the circle.

I will now begin the spell. The mage began to chant, hands weaving in a complex and subtle pattern over the weapon. After ten minutes, there was a flash and the chalk ring disappeared in a blaze of green.

Well? Said the warrior.

I have it, said the wizard, after a moment. This sword is called Azure Flame. Its edge will never dull and it will glow with a blue flame when fighting any of the tribe of Kheth.

A true treasure! My thanks, sorcerer. The warrior stepped forward, reaching down to pick up the blade.

Wait! The mage held up a hand. There is more. Additionally, he who bears the sword will always smell pleasantly of lilac.


And his hair will always shine and be full of body.

Do you dare mock me, wizard?

You wished to know the properties of the blade. I am merely informing you of my findings.

Both of them looked down at the sword.

Good hair? Asked the warrior.


The warrior raised an eyebrow. Huh.

During a rousing game of DnD the other day, it occurred to me that magic items in games and fiction always tend to be useful or combat oriented. However, for every handsome hero or beautiful sorceress, there has to be a least a couple balding heroes with big noses or witches with thick ankles and a moustache problem. They might want a little something extra in their magic items, something to improve the image, so to speak.

Tomorrow: Chainmail that lifts and separates!

Friday, October 12, 2007

The Tell-Tale Cell Phone: Part 2

I will not trouble you with the labors I undertook. How the body was rent down into easily carried parts, how the blood was caught in a succession of Mountain Dew bottles. How I deposited him into the very couch upon which he died. There was no need to clean, as the living room was in so much disarray already, not even Gil Grisom of CSI could find a trace of wrong doing!

When I made the end of these labors, it was four o’clock, still dark as midnight. I was a bed, sleeping, my heart light, when there came a knocking upon my door. I rose, groggy, and answered, my feet safely ensconced in bunny slippers.

There were two constables. A shriek had been heard by a neighbor in the night and an alarm had been sent, foul play was suspected.

I smiled, for what had I to fear? I bade the officers welcome, saying that the shriek was my own in a dream, that Mario had set upon me with a wrench. I bade them search, nay, invited them to search. I opened every door, unlocked every latch. My roommate, I said with glee, had gone to an all night showing of the Extended Version of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. He would not return for many, many hours.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. They sat upon the couch, the very couch!, and chatted of familiar things. Of leveling in WoW and of the outcome of a battle betwixt a zombie and a robot. I chatted with ease, a smile upon my lips. Yet I began to grow nervous. I heard a ringing in my ears, the bale tune of an mp3, as if an ocarina were played through cotton. It was the cell phone of my victim, I had not removed it from his trousers, loathe as I was to touch the soiled fabric.

The noise grew, louder and louder still. I talked more quickly, more loudly. I at last found that the noise could not be within my own ears. It was so loud, yet the officers gave no notice. I talked more quickly, more vehemently. I argued, debated, whether Gordon Freeman could defeat Master Chief! And they still could not hear the infernal tones of the ocarina! I rose, began to pace, but the noise steadily increased! And still the men chatted pleasantly and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? They must hear it, they had to hear it! They must suspect! They must know! Yet they sat there, mocking me! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I felt I must scream, and still, louder! Louder! Louder!

Shit! I shrieked. I admit the deed. Up with the cushions! The nerd lies buried there! Here, here, it is the ringing of his hideous cell phone!

(if you would like to read the original Tell-Tale Heart, here is the complete text online: http://www.eapoe.org/works/tales/thearta.htm)

Thursday, October 11, 2007

The Tell-Tale Cell Phone: Part 1

With all due apologies to Edgar Allen Poe

True!, nervous , very, very dreadfully nervous I have been, and am; but why will you say that I am mad? Playing games had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in GameStop. How, then, am I mad? Harken! and observe, how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it began to grow, to haunt my dreaming thought and waking mind. I did love him, as a brother might love his sibling, not in the way of homosexuality, though oft we did accuse each other of such proclivities. It was his way, yes, it was that! It was his way of mocking, of cruelly jesting at my expense, of defaming both my ancestry and manhood. Whenever I fell to him at Halo or Team Fortress, whenever my avatar did crumble to his did he unleash his taunts and churlish jibes. Noob, he would call me, pansy, often calling me by the name of a girl-child, such as Susie or Becky.

When the invectives would spew forth from his lips I would find my hands, inching, slowly, ever so slowly, as if by their own volition, towards his throat. He noticed not, entranced as he was, by his own wit, which did pour forth in mockery. A sloth might have bemoaned the slowness of my hand. The wise tortoise would grow impatient at my progress, so slow was I. So intent. A Holy-Speccd Priest in WoW could solo from 1 to 70 in the time it took for my hands to move a bare inch.

Yet – every night – his jibes would subside. His taunts would ebb as does the tide as his Cheetos found his lips, the unnatural orangeness staining his fingers, the couch, the controllers. I could smile then. Laugh even – how mirthful I was! Murder was replaced by fondness, for the joy of camaraderie. I hated him not! To think that I had – bare moments ago! – yearned to feel his neck beneath my hands, to crush that marvelous vessel down which many a Slim Jim and Red Bull had flowed – it could not be imagined.

Yet upon the eighth night, eight nights of taunts, eight nights of barking, dog-like laughter and cries of mirth at my expense, I could take no more! A pillow I seized, fouled by much passing of gas, and thrust it upon his face, even as a Jolly Rancher did pass his lips. A strangled scream was all he managed, a single scream of such a pitch and tone as to break glass.

There was flailing, yet his prowess at Halo availed him little, as the eons spent upon the couch had reduced his strength to that of a kitten, an anemic kitten at that! My weight pressed down upon him, his hands grasped at me, oh the jests that could have been made had there been someone to witness the act!

I smile, laughed even, as his muffled protestations grew weaker. When at long last his arms ceased their movement, when his body grew still, did I remove the pillow. He was dead. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there for many minutes. There was no pulsation. The nerd was stone dead. His taunts would trouble me no more.

Tomorrow: The conclusion of a tale most foul

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

The Best Game Reviews Ever

I recently stumbled across a game reviewer named Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw. These are some of the funniest and best thought out game reviews I have ever encountered.

There are not a lot of reviews up yet, but they are well worth the time.

You can find Bens reviews at: http://www.escapistmagazine.com/articles/view/editorials/zeropunctuation

Warning: They are rather rude, so I would not advice blasting them at work.


A Prime Number of Squirrels

Imagine this: You need to go to the bathroom. Your home, be it an apartment, house, mansion, or cardboard box, only has one. Therefore, you need to walk to it whenever you feel the need. Now, imagine that the next time youre walking to your bathroom, you happen to notice a squirrel sitting in the hallway.

Odd as this may be, you continue on past the squirrel. After all, you need to use the bathroom. However, the squirrel, instead of gathering nuts or buying stocks on margin or whatever it is squirrels normally do screeches horribly and attacks you.

You are surprised, rightfully so, and recovering from your astonishment, beat the squirrel off your leg with a club that happens to be there (if you can accept a squirrel in your hallway, you can accept that there might be a club there as well. Just go with it).

The squirrel runs off and you continue towards the bathroom, perhaps whistling a jaunty sea tune. However, before you can reach the bathroom, eleven squirrels, led by the one that originally attacked you, descend en masse and begin to savage your calves.

One squirrel is not so bad. Two squirrels could be irritating. Five is downright nasty. Eleven however, are almost lethal. You fight your way into the bathroom, slamming the door on them and stand there panting and bleeding and probably wondering what the hell was going on.

After staunching the bleeding and applying Bactine or your antiseptic of choice, you do your business and then exit the bathroom. The squirrel is still there, using a pen to draw on the wall. You try to get past it again and the same thing happens. Youre attacked by a prime number of squirrels and have to dash halfway across the house to get away from them.

Now imagine that you have to do this every single time you go to the bathroom. Ludicrous, yes?

You may be wondering what Im talking about. Well, welcome to WoW, the only place in existence where the animals are as abundant as they are aggressive.

This is a long standing pet peeve of mine in WoW. There are just too many damn animals that agro way to easily. Its just amazingly irritating trying to get from point A to point B and having to wipe out a half-a-dozen species to do so. The Hinterlands are one of the worst places for this, as there are so many wolves in the area (some of which are stealthed) that even if youre the appropriate level, you will spend half your time simply running away.

The worst example to me is Spinebreaker Post in the Hellfire Peninsula. I spent a good chunk of Sunday leveling my hunter and there is simply no good way to get there. No matter how you approach it, youre going to agro something. And the boars stun, so just riding through does not work. I probably got half-a-level just from having to kill boars I could not get around.

Now, I love WoW as much as the next addict, but they really should reduce the agro on most animals, especially if you have to constantly travel back and forth through them to get to the quest givers.

Just my .02 cents.


Monday, October 8, 2007

A Review

Greetings and salutations,

Leigh just discovered our first review. Well, the first review weve actually seen, to be more accurate.

The site is: http://tangent.panel2panel.com/. You need to scroll down to the 10/01/2007 section.

Stick around and check out their site, they obviously have good taste :)


Thursday, October 4, 2007

Men in Masks With Knives

Picture this. Youre walking home late one night and decide to take a shortcut through a dark alley. As you trudge down the darkened path, you begin to grow nervous. Your pulse quickens and you soon flinch at every noise. All of a sudden, a shape looms before you. You freeze, your hands clench and your breath quickens, as adrenaline floods through your system. The shape moves, revealing itself to be a rental cat, also on its way home after a hard day.

You relax, even smile to yourself, and then realize, someone is behind you. You whirl and see a man in a mask with a knife. You have only a mere fraction of a second to decide: is it a surgeon or a ninja?

Your life will depend on the answer.

Surgeons and ninjas, much like zombies and robots, are amazingly similar:
Both wear masks
Both are trained to use knives
Both smell of lilac
Both wear form-fitting, monochromatic outfits
Both have devoted years to learning their craft
Both have taken solemn oaths to fulfill their duty

But while a ninja will chop you into pieces, a surgeon will put you back together. They are two sides of the same coin, one yin to the others yang, salt and pepper, ebony and ivory, marshmallow and bbq sauce, rock and paper (it works if you ignore scissors).

The one thing, however, that both hate above all, is being mistaken for the other. The ninja will simply cut out your heart and show it to you, but the surgeon will tell everyone at the country club that you cried like a girl.

How can I tell the difference, you may ask? There are no hard-and-fast rules, but I will make something up.

Surgeons generally carry much smaller knives than ninjas. This works well, unless you happen to get a ninja whos really secure in his masculinity.

Ninjas tend to be Japanese. If its a white guy, hes probably a surgeon. This is of no help if hes a surgeon of Asian descent, however.

Surgeons tend to wear much more colorful outfits. If hes dressed head-to-toe in lime green or his outfit has a floral pattern, chances are hes a surgeon. However, many modern ninjas have ditched the traditional black outfits in favor of more colorful garb. If hes in bright pink, your guess is as good as mine.

Armed with this knowledge, you have a good chance to correctly identify the masked man and forestall a disemboweling or some vicious gossip.

If you think its a ninja, say: Ohio! Watashi-wa, shobosha-desu!
Literal translation: Good morning! I am a fire truck!
The ninja will laugh and probably only mutilate you a little before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

If you think its a surgeon, say: I wanted to be a doctor, but just didnt have the patience!
Literal translation: I wanted to be a doctor, but just didnt have the patience!
The surgeon will give a tired laugh, as he has heard the joke a billion times and roll his eyes as he continues on to his Mercedes.

Armed with this knowledge, you can safely wander through dark alleys, reasonably certain your life and reputation will remain intact.

Warning: wandering through dark alleys is dangerous. You could trip, fall on a rusty nail, and get lockjaw. We are totally not responsible if that happens.


How Big a Nerd Are You: Answers

1. What is Benders last name?
a. Rodriguez. His full name is Bender Bending Rodriguez.
2. In Dune (the original novel), what is the name of the Emperors house?
a. Corrino. His full name is Shaddam Corrino IV.
3. The Roman Legionnaires carried the gladius. What was the name of the longer sword used principally by the cavalry troops?
a. The spatha.
4. In the novel The Fellowship of the Ring, what is the name of the elf who comes upon Aragorn and the halflings after Frodo is stabbed on Weathertop?
a. Glorfindel. In the movie, its Arwen, which was done to give her more screen time and not add another character.
5. What is Kirks brothers name?
a. George Samuel Kirk, Jr.
6. In Star Wars (Episode IV: A New Hope), not including the Millennium Falcon, how many Rebel ships survive the attack on the Death Star (bonus points if you can recall what types of ships they were)?
a. Three. Two X-Wings and a Y-Wing. Wedge Antilles piloted one of the X-Wings, with Luke in the other. No clue on who was piloting the Y-Wing.
7. In Babylon 5 (the original TV show) how many Techno-Mages are actually seen on camera?
a. One.
8. What is a mud-die?
a. In the early days of DnD, the plastic used to make dice was too soft and their edges wore down rather quickly. They became known as mud-dice.
9. What does the H.P. in H.P. Lovecraft stand for?
a. Howard Phillips.
10. What is Caliburn an older name for?
a. Excaliber. Caliburn was the name used by Geoffrey of Monmouth (c. 1140) and it is believed to have been derived from Caledfwlch, which is first mentioned in the Malbinogion.


Wednesday, October 3, 2007

How Big A Nerd Are You?

Im a pretty big nerd. Sci-Fi, fantasy, I love it all. Ive read quite a few nerd questionnaires over the years, so I thought I would be fun to whip up one of my own. All of these questions are off the top of my head and prove nothing save that I store a lot of useless information.

Im sure you can find all these answers on the internet, but go through them once and see how well you do. And if you have any real good questions (nothing too esoteric, ie, they should involve a commonly read/watched series), let me know.

Answers will be posted tomorrow.


1. What is Benders last name?
2. In Dune (the original novel), what is the name of the Emperors house?
3. The Roman Legionnaires carried the gladius. What was the name of the longer sword used principally by the cavalry troops?
4. In the novel The Fellowship of the Ring, what is the name of the elf who comes upon Aragorn and the halflings after Frodo is stabbed on Weathertop?
5. What is Kirks brothers name?
6. In Star Wars (Episode IV: A New Hope), not including the Millennium Falcon, how many Rebel ships survive the attack on the Death Star (bonus points if you can recall what types of ships they were)?
7. In Babylon 5 (the original TV show) how many Techno-Mages are actually seen on camera?
8. What is a mud-die?
9. What does the H.P. in H.P. Lovecraft stand for?
10. What is Caliburn an older name for?

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

I Root for the Bigfoot

I happened across a commercial the other day for Jack Links Beef Jerky. It showed a couple of hikers eating said beef jerky who come upon Sasquatch (aka Bigfoot, the Yeti) and decide to play a practical joke on the creature. They go through with it, which results in the enormous Bigfoot attacking them.

I do not get these commercials. Why would you want to suggest that eating your product will make you do something stupid and potentially suicidal?

The kicker is that the Bigfoot is pretty much minding its own business when these guys decide to harass it and get beaten up. Personally, I root for the Bigfoot.

Now, I realize the commercials are trying to capture your attention (it did capture mine, though in a negative way), so they are attempting to be strange and off-beat. And apparently, it is working, as there are a bunch of these commercials on their website.

Now, if I happened upon a Bigfoot in the woods, my first thought would not to be to antagonize it. This would seem like a basic survival skill, along the lines of not kicking a pit bull, kissing a black mamba, or wrestling a zombot.

Jim Croce said it best: You dont tug on Supermans cape. You dont spit into the wind. You dont pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger and you dont mess around with 8-foot tall man-beasts who can use you as a fly swatter.

Actually, the song doesnt say that, but it seemed apropos.


Monday, October 1, 2007

The Adventures of Arin Asurance

Deputy Director Ferguson absently tapped his pencil on his desk as he frowned at his computer screen.

The intercom beeped.


Agent Asurance to see you, sir.

Send her in.

Ferguson leaned back in his chair as Agent Arin Asurance entered his office, her pink hair shining brightly in the fluorescent light, and closed the door behind her.

Please take a seat, Agent Asurance.

Speaking of taking a seat, have you sat down to compare car insurance prices?

Ferguson sighed. Yes, Agent Asurance, I have. But were not here to talk about auto insurance, were here to talk about your performance.

But with Asurance, you always get great performance!

Ferguson raised an eyebrow. Were talking about you, Agent, not car insurance. He held up a hand to forestall her insurance-related comment. What was your last assignment, Agent?

I showed a bunch of people how to save money on car insurance!

No, actually, your last assignment was to stop Dr. Insano from activating his latest invention. Do you recall Dr. Insano, Agent?

I sure do! He saved time and money with Asurance!

Actually, yes he did. Then once you left, he disintegrated the Isle of Malta. Were you unclear on your orders, Agent?

No, sir! I tell everyone everywhere I go about Asurance!

Ferguson stared at Agent Asurance for a moment, drumming his fingers on his desk. Agent Asurance, you are a highly trained government operative with top secret clearance, access to the most sophisticated technology in the world and a license to kill. Dont you think it would be odd that we would send you out to tell people about car insurance?

But Asurance also covers boats, motorcycles, mopeds, scooters, snow mobiles, unicycles, and jet skis!

I guess not.
Ferguson loosened his tie. Agent, if it were up to me, I would have you immediately removed from duty and confined to a psychiatric ward until our top doctors could figure out what was wrong with you. However, the Director likes you. Apparently, you saved him a bunch of money on his car insurance. Therefore, I will give you one last chance.

Ferguson picked up a file from his desk and tossed it to Agent Asurance. Doctor General Baron von Jones has escaped from prison and is rebuilding his organization. We dont know what his plan is, but if its anything like the last fourteen-times, he will be trying to construct any army of killer zombots. Find him, destroy his base, and bring him to justice. Any questions?

No, sir! Agent Asurance is on the case!

Good. Now remember Agent, youre a highly trained spy and assassin. Do not leave if he buys Asurance.

Right, Chief! Ill be sure to tell him about all the cash he can save with Asurance!

With that, Agent Asurance was out the door and gone. Deputy Director Ferguson leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. The clock read 11:38. He reached for the intercom.

Sandy, Im going to take an early lunch.

But, Agent Watchtower is here to see you, sir

Ferguson groaned and then took a deep breath. Send him in.

Morning, sir! said Agent Watchtower, as he opened the door. Can I offer you a pamphlet?

I hate my life, muttered Ferguson.