We are booked for two cons so far:
Super-Con San Jose CA May 17th and 18
Spokane Comicon Spokane WA June 7th
We will be attending Emerald Con, but don't have a booth. We'll be the two nerds wandering around in Wayfarer's Moon t-shirts.
I'll post new dates as we get confirmation. However, if you're curious about our con schedule, check out our News tab. We'll be listing all our schedule info there, in case there are any questions.
Cheers,
-Jason
Monday, March 31, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
The Shining - the Feel Good Film of the Year
An oldie, but a goodie. The Shining reimagined as a 'feel good' comedy.
No, seriously.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfout_rgPSA
There have been a few more done in this vein, but The Shining was the first (as far as I know) and definately one of the best.
Cheers,
-Jason
No, seriously.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfout_rgPSA
There have been a few more done in this vein, but The Shining was the first (as far as I know) and definately one of the best.
Cheers,
-Jason
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Last Words: Part 1
Arklebar, Dark Lord of Berenir, King of Uburia, and Conqueror of Kordrun staggered and fell against his throne, his shoulder spikes scraping loudly against the stone as his sword clattered to the ground.
“It’s over, Arklebar!” panted the young man. His armor was rent and bloody and his left arm hung uselessly at his side, but his sword was steady as he pointed it at his defeated foe.
Arklebar glanced around. His guards were gone and fires from siege were filling his hall with smoke. “Yeah,” he conceded, as he struggled into a sitting position. “Looks that way.”
“What? No clever threats or insults?”
“Nope.” Arklebar removed his helmet and set it beside him. “Just out of curiosity, though. Who are you?”
“Do you remember Lord Faringdoyle?”
Arklebar considered the name. “Tall guy with a wart?”
“No. My height, black beard shot with grey. Liked cats.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Well, he was my father and you murdered him!” The young man took a step forward. “I’m Bryl Faringdoyle, Heir to the Duchy of Faringdoyle!”
“Ah, the whole revenge thing. Point of interest: Did I actually kill your father or was it one of my lackeys?”
Bryl stared at his defeated foe. “What does it matter? You’re reign of terror is over! Any last words?”
Arklebar thought for a moment. “Actually, yes.” He leaned back against his throne, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “It all started when I was a kid. I had a dog named Poofy. Well, actually, he was a rock that looked like a dog, y’know, if you squinted just right. Anyhow . . .”
Later: More Last Words!
“It’s over, Arklebar!” panted the young man. His armor was rent and bloody and his left arm hung uselessly at his side, but his sword was steady as he pointed it at his defeated foe.
Arklebar glanced around. His guards were gone and fires from siege were filling his hall with smoke. “Yeah,” he conceded, as he struggled into a sitting position. “Looks that way.”
“What? No clever threats or insults?”
“Nope.” Arklebar removed his helmet and set it beside him. “Just out of curiosity, though. Who are you?”
“Do you remember Lord Faringdoyle?”
Arklebar considered the name. “Tall guy with a wart?”
“No. My height, black beard shot with grey. Liked cats.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Well, he was my father and you murdered him!” The young man took a step forward. “I’m Bryl Faringdoyle, Heir to the Duchy of Faringdoyle!”
“Ah, the whole revenge thing. Point of interest: Did I actually kill your father or was it one of my lackeys?”
Bryl stared at his defeated foe. “What does it matter? You’re reign of terror is over! Any last words?”
Arklebar thought for a moment. “Actually, yes.” He leaned back against his throne, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “It all started when I was a kid. I had a dog named Poofy. Well, actually, he was a rock that looked like a dog, y’know, if you squinted just right. Anyhow . . .”
Later: More Last Words!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
I Need A New Game
As hard as it is to say, WoW just isn't doing it for me anymore. I got my Hunter to 70, got my Flying Machine and started leveling my Warrior. I got him to 64 and just kind of went 'bleh.'
It was just the same quests, only harder.
So, I need a new game. I don't care if it's single-player or an MMO, but I gotta hankerin' for somethin' new.
I have been playing Painkiller: Overdose, but it doesn't quite grab me. I play through a level now and again, but I feel no overwhelming drive to complete it (unlike the original Painkiller that I played through 4 times).
I was also considering going back to City of Heroes/Villains, but you can't solo past a certain point and I always find that frustrating. Well, you can, but you can't complete the AV story arcs.
I have been considering Pirates of the Burning Sea, but while the combat sounds fun, the whole economic model doesn't seem particularly interesting. I'm also considering Tabula Rasa, but I've heard pro and con on that one.
So, tell what's good out there right now. I like FPSs (I've played CoD 4 through 3 times already) and RPGs, but will play most anything if it's interesting.
Are there any hidden gems out there? Any little games, even 'casual' ones, that deliver serious fun? Let me know.
Cheers,
-Jason
It was just the same quests, only harder.
So, I need a new game. I don't care if it's single-player or an MMO, but I gotta hankerin' for somethin' new.
I have been playing Painkiller: Overdose, but it doesn't quite grab me. I play through a level now and again, but I feel no overwhelming drive to complete it (unlike the original Painkiller that I played through 4 times).
I was also considering going back to City of Heroes/Villains, but you can't solo past a certain point and I always find that frustrating. Well, you can, but you can't complete the AV story arcs.
I have been considering Pirates of the Burning Sea, but while the combat sounds fun, the whole economic model doesn't seem particularly interesting. I'm also considering Tabula Rasa, but I've heard pro and con on that one.
So, tell what's good out there right now. I like FPSs (I've played CoD 4 through 3 times already) and RPGs, but will play most anything if it's interesting.
Are there any hidden gems out there? Any little games, even 'casual' ones, that deliver serious fun? Let me know.
Cheers,
-Jason
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
If I Told You . . .
Yesterday during work, I was half-listening to a conversation a couple of co-workers were having nearby. I work in a cube-farm and you can pretty much hear people talking on the other side of the building when conditions are right (apparently Bill in Accounting is a real s.o.b.).
At one point, someone mentioned the old pick-up line "If I told you you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?"
I didn't think much of it, but about ten minutes later I suddenly got it.
I've heard the line before, but always parsed it as 'If I told you you had a good body, would you think I was rude?' rather than 'If I told you you had a good body, would you press it against me?'
It was just one of those weird 'OH!' moments, like when you're staring at the blurry picture and suddenly you see Sean Connery naked, holding a chihuahua and eating a kiwi while riding a dolphin named 'Bruce.'
This was similiar to the time when I realized the chorus to 'Blinded by the Light' was not 'Stick your head in a moose, hit a tuna with your light.' Though, honestly, I like my interpretation better.
Cheers,
-Jason
At one point, someone mentioned the old pick-up line "If I told you you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?"
I didn't think much of it, but about ten minutes later I suddenly got it.
I've heard the line before, but always parsed it as 'If I told you you had a good body, would you think I was rude?' rather than 'If I told you you had a good body, would you press it against me?'
It was just one of those weird 'OH!' moments, like when you're staring at the blurry picture and suddenly you see Sean Connery naked, holding a chihuahua and eating a kiwi while riding a dolphin named 'Bruce.'
This was similiar to the time when I realized the chorus to 'Blinded by the Light' was not 'Stick your head in a moose, hit a tuna with your light.' Though, honestly, I like my interpretation better.
Cheers,
-Jason
Monday, March 24, 2008
General News
Greetings,
Leigh and I have been busy up in the great Northwest, trying to get things ready for Con season. This will be our first season as participants, rather than as visitors, so basically, we have no idea what we're doing.
We're making lists of things we may (or possibly, may not) need. Things like flyers, banners, posters, t-shirts, tranquilizer guns, tissue-paper models of the Titanic, and snowshoes. As I said, we're basically clueless.
We are also working hard (mostly Leigh) on getting issues 1-3 of Wayfarer's Moon ready for print so we can sell them at the Cons. Eventually, they will be offered for sale from the website, but we'll need to figure that out first.
We will be posting our definite Con dates as soon as we get confirmation.
Cheers,
-Jason
Leigh and I have been busy up in the great Northwest, trying to get things ready for Con season. This will be our first season as participants, rather than as visitors, so basically, we have no idea what we're doing.
We're making lists of things we may (or possibly, may not) need. Things like flyers, banners, posters, t-shirts, tranquilizer guns, tissue-paper models of the Titanic, and snowshoes. As I said, we're basically clueless.
We are also working hard (mostly Leigh) on getting issues 1-3 of Wayfarer's Moon ready for print so we can sell them at the Cons. Eventually, they will be offered for sale from the website, but we'll need to figure that out first.
We will be posting our definite Con dates as soon as we get confirmation.
Cheers,
-Jason
Friday, March 21, 2008
A Quest: Part 2
I moved to stand beside a tall man with dark hair. “Hail and well met, fellow adventurer!” I cried (yet not too loudly). “What noble quest brings you to these hallowed halls?”
He made no answer, becoming suddenly engrossed in a pamphlet. Likewise, the woman to my right began texting vigorously, her thumbs darting like short, fat snakes. Strangely enough, it seemed that all the patrons of the DMV near me became quickly consumed in their own matters, leaving me to wait in silence.
At long last, the numbers upon the wall matched mine own and I marched proudly to the open window, my paperwork in hand.
“Greetings, aged crone!” I called out.
“What?” replied the person behind the window, whose nametag read ‘Bruce.’
“It is no import, person of indeterminate gender! I have ventured forth from the lands of Redmond at behest of the most noble DMV to register my pickup!”
“Right. Do you have the paperwork?”
“Absolutely! Allow me to-“
“Just hand it over.”
I do so, though the tone of this ‘Bruce’ leaves much to be desired. Bruce commences to input the necessary data, his or her fingers dancing like drunken, wrinkled elves upon the keys.
“What’s the make of your vehicle?”
“Why, it was forged in the Unending Fire by the master smiths of Great Nippon!“
Bruce gazed evenly at me for a moment, a brow arched to suggest either a deep understanding of my words or to subtly suggest he knew not of what I quoth.
“I don’t have an ‘Unending Fire’ option,” he finally said.
“Most strange! I would have thought that all lands were known in the great halls of the DMV!” I made a sweeping gesture, which narrowly missed hitting a small woman of Asian descent at the window nearest mine own.
Bruce did rub his or her eyes. “Perhaps you could tell me the name of the smith who forged your pickup?”
“Of course!” After a brief consultation with my paperwork, which bore many strange and foreign words, I found the name I sought. “Toyota” I answered proudly. “A name most befitting a truck of such stature!”
“$63, please.”
My checkbook I did open, to reveal a check which bore a picture of kittens sporting merrily with a ball of string. Upon this I scrawled the required amount, which I slid to Bruce of Indeterminate Gender. More arcane devilry happened behind the window, as Bruce’s fingers flitted upon the keys. At long last, a machine unlike any I had beheld did spit forth a piece of paper, which Bruce slid to me.
“There you go, sir. You’re registration is updated.”
I held the paper up to the light, so that I could better behold the runes inscribed upon it. “Truly, a most portent spell must be inscribed upon this parchment! How, pray tell, would one such as I gain access to the magic it holds?”
Bruce did sigh, a mighty sigh that did fog the window betwixt us. “Put it in your glove compartment. It’s your proof of registration if you get pulled over.”
“Verily, a most potent enchantment indeed!” I bowed. “Many thanks, Bruce of the DMV! May you one day learn in which restroom you belong!”
Bruce did smile. “Please go.”
“To work!” I cried and leapt for the door. Outside, a cool breeze blew across my countenance and I felt suddenly renewed, rejuvenated, refreshed and other words beginning with ‘R.’ I realized I had finished the Quest and gained valuable experience.
“Ding!” I shouted, before dashing towards my most noble pickup and whatever new adventures awaited.
Cheers,
-Jason
He made no answer, becoming suddenly engrossed in a pamphlet. Likewise, the woman to my right began texting vigorously, her thumbs darting like short, fat snakes. Strangely enough, it seemed that all the patrons of the DMV near me became quickly consumed in their own matters, leaving me to wait in silence.
At long last, the numbers upon the wall matched mine own and I marched proudly to the open window, my paperwork in hand.
“Greetings, aged crone!” I called out.
“What?” replied the person behind the window, whose nametag read ‘Bruce.’
“It is no import, person of indeterminate gender! I have ventured forth from the lands of Redmond at behest of the most noble DMV to register my pickup!”
“Right. Do you have the paperwork?”
“Absolutely! Allow me to-“
“Just hand it over.”
I do so, though the tone of this ‘Bruce’ leaves much to be desired. Bruce commences to input the necessary data, his or her fingers dancing like drunken, wrinkled elves upon the keys.
“What’s the make of your vehicle?”
“Why, it was forged in the Unending Fire by the master smiths of Great Nippon!“
Bruce gazed evenly at me for a moment, a brow arched to suggest either a deep understanding of my words or to subtly suggest he knew not of what I quoth.
“I don’t have an ‘Unending Fire’ option,” he finally said.
“Most strange! I would have thought that all lands were known in the great halls of the DMV!” I made a sweeping gesture, which narrowly missed hitting a small woman of Asian descent at the window nearest mine own.
Bruce did rub his or her eyes. “Perhaps you could tell me the name of the smith who forged your pickup?”
“Of course!” After a brief consultation with my paperwork, which bore many strange and foreign words, I found the name I sought. “Toyota” I answered proudly. “A name most befitting a truck of such stature!”
“$63, please.”
My checkbook I did open, to reveal a check which bore a picture of kittens sporting merrily with a ball of string. Upon this I scrawled the required amount, which I slid to Bruce of Indeterminate Gender. More arcane devilry happened behind the window, as Bruce’s fingers flitted upon the keys. At long last, a machine unlike any I had beheld did spit forth a piece of paper, which Bruce slid to me.
“There you go, sir. You’re registration is updated.”
I held the paper up to the light, so that I could better behold the runes inscribed upon it. “Truly, a most portent spell must be inscribed upon this parchment! How, pray tell, would one such as I gain access to the magic it holds?”
Bruce did sigh, a mighty sigh that did fog the window betwixt us. “Put it in your glove compartment. It’s your proof of registration if you get pulled over.”
“Verily, a most potent enchantment indeed!” I bowed. “Many thanks, Bruce of the DMV! May you one day learn in which restroom you belong!”
Bruce did smile. “Please go.”
“To work!” I cried and leapt for the door. Outside, a cool breeze blew across my countenance and I felt suddenly renewed, rejuvenated, refreshed and other words beginning with ‘R.’ I realized I had finished the Quest and gained valuable experience.
“Ding!” I shouted, before dashing towards my most noble pickup and whatever new adventures awaited.
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
You Shall Not Pass!
A Ricky Gervais/Ian McKellan(sp?) bit.
Not quite as good as the Patrick Stewart bit last week, but quite funny nonetheless.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43sbtkQM6zc
Cheers,
-Jason
Not quite as good as the Patrick Stewart bit last week, but quite funny nonetheless.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43sbtkQM6zc
Cheers,
-Jason
A Quest: Part 1
‘Twas but a fortnight ago that unto me a quest did come. It appeared as if by magic in a box, of which only I possessed the key. Upon gazing upon the sealed envelope, my heart did soar, for I knew adventure awaited inside.
Upon opening the envelope, I did find a missive addressed to me from a place called the DMV. Registration was required, lest my vehicle, a noble pickup of few dents and possessing a good radio, be declared remiss in the eyes of the law.
“Huzzah!” I shouted, startling the portly gentleman to my left, as he himself gazed upon his letters. “At last,” quoth I. “A quest worthy of one such as myself!” The gentleman edged away, yet I pretended not to notice.
“Huzzah!” I shouted again, noticing the Value Pac of coupons. “Dungbutter!” came next, as I opened my bill of credit, yet that is another story.
To my supervisor I did fly the next day, with news of my quest. “Steve!” I did cry. “To the DMV I must go!”
“Please stop shouting,” he replied. “Fine, just shoot me an email.”
“Verily! It shall be in your inbox in mere moments!”
An email was drafted, nay, forged, and sent forthwith to Steve the Managerial, so that he knew well my plan. And then I was off, descending by elevator into the very bowels of the parking garage where my pickup did wait, gleaming primer-gray in the darkness.
The engine sparked to life with the turning of the One True Key. Four cylinders whined in unison, like a gang of children begging for sweets, and I was off. Many miles were driven, many gears shifted, many songs sung off-key. At long last, I arrived at the DMV and maneuvered my truck betwixt the lines of parking, and then securing my paperwork, exited with a joyous cry.
Across the lot I bounded, upon the sidewalk I leapt, past the mailbox I galumphed, and found myself before the DMV. “Catnuts!” escaped my lips, for inside the fortress waited a veritable throng of fellow adventurers, each clutching a numbered slip of paper.
I entered, reminding myself to speak softly in this most sacred temple of bureaucracy, lest I offend the gods that dwelt there. I secured for myself a square of paper, upon which was inscribed one-hundred-and-three in bold red letters. The eldritch display upon the wall read merely fifty-eight, so I steeled myself for a long wait, yet knew the rewards for such a lengthy quest would be great.
Return later, as the adventure will continue anon!
Upon opening the envelope, I did find a missive addressed to me from a place called the DMV. Registration was required, lest my vehicle, a noble pickup of few dents and possessing a good radio, be declared remiss in the eyes of the law.
“Huzzah!” I shouted, startling the portly gentleman to my left, as he himself gazed upon his letters. “At last,” quoth I. “A quest worthy of one such as myself!” The gentleman edged away, yet I pretended not to notice.
“Huzzah!” I shouted again, noticing the Value Pac of coupons. “Dungbutter!” came next, as I opened my bill of credit, yet that is another story.
To my supervisor I did fly the next day, with news of my quest. “Steve!” I did cry. “To the DMV I must go!”
“Please stop shouting,” he replied. “Fine, just shoot me an email.”
“Verily! It shall be in your inbox in mere moments!”
An email was drafted, nay, forged, and sent forthwith to Steve the Managerial, so that he knew well my plan. And then I was off, descending by elevator into the very bowels of the parking garage where my pickup did wait, gleaming primer-gray in the darkness.
The engine sparked to life with the turning of the One True Key. Four cylinders whined in unison, like a gang of children begging for sweets, and I was off. Many miles were driven, many gears shifted, many songs sung off-key. At long last, I arrived at the DMV and maneuvered my truck betwixt the lines of parking, and then securing my paperwork, exited with a joyous cry.
Across the lot I bounded, upon the sidewalk I leapt, past the mailbox I galumphed, and found myself before the DMV. “Catnuts!” escaped my lips, for inside the fortress waited a veritable throng of fellow adventurers, each clutching a numbered slip of paper.
I entered, reminding myself to speak softly in this most sacred temple of bureaucracy, lest I offend the gods that dwelt there. I secured for myself a square of paper, upon which was inscribed one-hundred-and-three in bold red letters. The eldritch display upon the wall read merely fifty-eight, so I steeled myself for a long wait, yet knew the rewards for such a lengthy quest would be great.
Return later, as the adventure will continue anon!
Monday, March 17, 2008
143 Pages of Dumb
In browsing my blogs of yore, I realized that this would be the 240th Single Edge Studios Blog.
This seems like a lot. Out of curiousity, I checked my 'blogs.doc' file and learned that it contains 143 pages and 49,405 words. That is just enough to make a slim, yet incredibly dumb book.
I investigated further and utilizing the 'highlight' function, I discovered the following things:
I used the word Zombot just 8 times (I would have thought it was higher).
Stormtrooper 19 times.
Zombie 30 times
Booger 3 times
Darth Vader 17 times
Cat 68 times
DnD 6 times
WoW 21 times
and Vacuum 13 times
Apparently, I talk about my cat a lot and not nearly enough about boogers.
What does it all mean? I have no clue, save that in the nearly 11-months since Leigh and I started Wayfarer's Moon, I have spent a whole lot of time rambling on about stormtroopers and their woes.
The data also suggests that I probably don't have a life.
Actually, it's pretty definite on that fact.
Cheers,
-Jason
This seems like a lot. Out of curiousity, I checked my 'blogs.doc' file and learned that it contains 143 pages and 49,405 words. That is just enough to make a slim, yet incredibly dumb book.
I investigated further and utilizing the 'highlight' function, I discovered the following things:
I used the word Zombot just 8 times (I would have thought it was higher).
Stormtrooper 19 times.
Zombie 30 times
Booger 3 times
Darth Vader 17 times
Cat 68 times
DnD 6 times
WoW 21 times
and Vacuum 13 times
Apparently, I talk about my cat a lot and not nearly enough about boogers.
What does it all mean? I have no clue, save that in the nearly 11-months since Leigh and I started Wayfarer's Moon, I have spent a whole lot of time rambling on about stormtroopers and their woes.
The data also suggests that I probably don't have a life.
Actually, it's pretty definite on that fact.
Cheers,
-Jason
Random Thoughts
Well, a new week is upon us and I've finally gotten used to the time change. This means I only mumbled five obscenities this morning as opposed to the ten-plus I mumbled last week.
Leigh and I are currently getting ready to print the first three issues of Wayfarer's Moon to sell during the con season. This means that Leigh is creating covers, aligning margins, trimming stuff, and generally making sure that the comics fit within the framework the printer provided.
I provide what is generally referred to as 'support,' which is loosely defined as not bothering Leigh as he's doing things. Sometimes he wants my opinion:
Leigh shows me a piece of artwork.
"Thoughts?"
"Do Wookies have to have to trim the hair on their rear-ends? Y'know, like you have to do with long-haired dogs?"
"No, Jason, what do you think about the picture?"
"Oh." Considers art. "Can you put a Wookie in it?"
Cheers,
-Jason
Leigh and I are currently getting ready to print the first three issues of Wayfarer's Moon to sell during the con season. This means that Leigh is creating covers, aligning margins, trimming stuff, and generally making sure that the comics fit within the framework the printer provided.
I provide what is generally referred to as 'support,' which is loosely defined as not bothering Leigh as he's doing things. Sometimes he wants my opinion:
Leigh shows me a piece of artwork.
"Thoughts?"
"Do Wookies have to have to trim the hair on their rear-ends? Y'know, like you have to do with long-haired dogs?"
"No, Jason, what do you think about the picture?"
"Oh." Considers art. "Can you put a Wookie in it?"
Cheers,
-Jason
Friday, March 14, 2008
Stories from the Cape and Cowl: Costumes: Part 2
“It was ’45, just before the end of the war. This Nazi cape, Der PanzerTigerhai, shows up in Washington and goes after the Whitehouse. A couple local capes go after him and there’s a big brawl, half the Whitehouse gets crushed, the Washington Monument almost falls, general mayhem all around.”
“And I mean confusion and such, not General Mayhem. He was in Europe.”
“Anyway, PanzerTigerhai finally goes down in a big fireball and everyone rushes in. Turns out, one of the capes, Liberty Gal or something, got caught in the blast and her outfit is completely disintegrated. She’s standing there in a daze and stark naked and there’s forty newsmen snapping pictures. Huge, major scandal.”
“And I mean a really big controversy, not Major Scandal, though he was just a Captain Scandal at the time.”
“I think I read about that in history class.”
The Major took a sip of Guinness. “Probably,” he agreed. “So some congressmen get together and pass a law making it illegal for capes to lose their uniforms or otherwise appear in their birthday suits.”
There was a pause, as the Street Urchin considered what he’d just heard. “Are you drunk?” he finally asked.
“What?”
“Congress passes a law and magically, our uniforms will always cover our naughty bits?”
“Yeah.” The Major shrugged. “I didn’t say it made sense.”
“That’s just . . . stupid!”
“You shoot spines out of your body. I give people migraines. Vicious here,” the Major glanced down at Vicious, who was still asleep on the floor. “Actually, I don’t know what he does.”
Urchin looked down as well. “Y’know, I’ve always wondered. Is he a Hero or a Villain?”
“I think he’s a Drunk.
“Huh.” Urchin finished off his beer and stared into the bottom of his glass for a moment. “Act of Congress, eh?”
“Yep.”
“Weird.”
“Yep.”
“Another beer?”
“Absolutely.”
Below them, Kid Vicious began to snore.
Cheers,
-Jason
“And I mean confusion and such, not General Mayhem. He was in Europe.”
“Anyway, PanzerTigerhai finally goes down in a big fireball and everyone rushes in. Turns out, one of the capes, Liberty Gal or something, got caught in the blast and her outfit is completely disintegrated. She’s standing there in a daze and stark naked and there’s forty newsmen snapping pictures. Huge, major scandal.”
“And I mean a really big controversy, not Major Scandal, though he was just a Captain Scandal at the time.”
“I think I read about that in history class.”
The Major took a sip of Guinness. “Probably,” he agreed. “So some congressmen get together and pass a law making it illegal for capes to lose their uniforms or otherwise appear in their birthday suits.”
There was a pause, as the Street Urchin considered what he’d just heard. “Are you drunk?” he finally asked.
“What?”
“Congress passes a law and magically, our uniforms will always cover our naughty bits?”
“Yeah.” The Major shrugged. “I didn’t say it made sense.”
“That’s just . . . stupid!”
“You shoot spines out of your body. I give people migraines. Vicious here,” the Major glanced down at Vicious, who was still asleep on the floor. “Actually, I don’t know what he does.”
Urchin looked down as well. “Y’know, I’ve always wondered. Is he a Hero or a Villain?”
“I think he’s a Drunk.
“Huh.” Urchin finished off his beer and stared into the bottom of his glass for a moment. “Act of Congress, eh?”
“Yep.”
“Weird.”
“Yep.”
“Another beer?”
“Absolutely.”
Below them, Kid Vicious began to snore.
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
I Can See Everything
My buddy Sean sent me this hysterical video with Patrick Stewart.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IURfntimnlA
It might be a touch unsafe for work (just the audio), so turn the sound down or put on your headphones.
Cheers,
-Jason
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IURfntimnlA
It might be a touch unsafe for work (just the audio), so turn the sound down or put on your headphones.
Cheers,
-Jason
Stories from the Cape and Cowl: Costumes: Part 1
It was 2 am and Major Headache was at his usual spot in the Cape and Cowl, half a pint of Guinness resting in front of him. The only other cape in the place was Kid Vicious, who was already passed out and snoring loudly in one of the back booths. Steve the Destroyer and Miss Anthrope had drawn a mustache and glasses on him as they left.
The door banged open and Street Urchin walked in, though ‘limped’ might be a better description. His outfit, normally tattered and full of holes, was now sporting copious burn marks as well.
“Hey, kid,” called out the Major. He gave the Urchin a long look. “Don’t we look like hell.”
“Yeah,” Urchin said, as he limped over to take a seat by the older hero. “Me an’ the Pink Valkyrie tore it up with Lord Kelvin.”
“Ah, that would explain the burns.”
“Yeah. I officially hate heat rays, by the way.” Urchin waved at Lloyd. “A Guinness, please.”
Lloyd nodded and drew a beer for the young hero, placing it before him on a stained deckle.
“Thanks.” Urchin took a sip and sighed. “Man, I needed that.”
“So, did you nab him?” asked the Major.
“Nah, he had a fail-safe. Valkryie almost had him, but then he blew up the building.”
The Major raised an eyebrow. “Is she okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine. Pissed, but fine.” Urchin took another pull. “Which reminds me. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“So, Valkryie gets blown up, right?”
“Right.”
“And most of her uniform is incinerated.”
“Yeah.”
“How come all that was left of her outfit was a strip over her chest and hot pants?” Urchin raised his hands, as if imploring the sky for an answer. “I mean, it makes no sense. Logically, shouldn’t ALL of her uniform go?”
“I see your point.” The Major paused and considered his pint. “You ever lose your uniform?”
“Well, there was this one time when Bile Boy puked on me. Most of it was gone.”
“Did you end up wearing shorts and nothing else?”
“Oi!” Kid Vicious suddenly appeared in the mirror behind them. “Where’d everybody go?” He half-collapsed on the Major’s shoulder, tried to steady himself by grabbing the Urchin, missed and fell heavily to the floor.
“Actually,” said the Urchin. “Yeah, now that you mention it.”
From beneath the stools, Kid Vicious began to snore again.
The Major finished off his beer and gestured to Lloyd for another one. “Well, kid, let me tell you a story.”
The door banged open and Street Urchin walked in, though ‘limped’ might be a better description. His outfit, normally tattered and full of holes, was now sporting copious burn marks as well.
“Hey, kid,” called out the Major. He gave the Urchin a long look. “Don’t we look like hell.”
“Yeah,” Urchin said, as he limped over to take a seat by the older hero. “Me an’ the Pink Valkyrie tore it up with Lord Kelvin.”
“Ah, that would explain the burns.”
“Yeah. I officially hate heat rays, by the way.” Urchin waved at Lloyd. “A Guinness, please.”
Lloyd nodded and drew a beer for the young hero, placing it before him on a stained deckle.
“Thanks.” Urchin took a sip and sighed. “Man, I needed that.”
“So, did you nab him?” asked the Major.
“Nah, he had a fail-safe. Valkryie almost had him, but then he blew up the building.”
The Major raised an eyebrow. “Is she okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine. Pissed, but fine.” Urchin took another pull. “Which reminds me. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“So, Valkryie gets blown up, right?”
“Right.”
“And most of her uniform is incinerated.”
“Yeah.”
“How come all that was left of her outfit was a strip over her chest and hot pants?” Urchin raised his hands, as if imploring the sky for an answer. “I mean, it makes no sense. Logically, shouldn’t ALL of her uniform go?”
“I see your point.” The Major paused and considered his pint. “You ever lose your uniform?”
“Well, there was this one time when Bile Boy puked on me. Most of it was gone.”
“Did you end up wearing shorts and nothing else?”
“Oi!” Kid Vicious suddenly appeared in the mirror behind them. “Where’d everybody go?” He half-collapsed on the Major’s shoulder, tried to steady himself by grabbing the Urchin, missed and fell heavily to the floor.
“Actually,” said the Urchin. “Yeah, now that you mention it.”
From beneath the stools, Kid Vicious began to snore again.
The Major finished off his beer and gestured to Lloyd for another one. “Well, kid, let me tell you a story.”
Monday, March 10, 2008
Sci-Fi: Part 2
The point, of course, is that no matter how advanced we are (or backwards, as the case may be), there is always something on the horizon to look forward to.
Take, for example, going to the moon.
In the pre-1960s, going to the moon was a fantasy at best. People hypothesized about ways to get there, such as giant cannons, really big slingshots, and a variety of narcotics, but there was very little understanding of what was actually required.
And then, in the ‘60s, Kennedy, embarrassed by the Soviets getting into space first and potentially flipping off the US from orbit, created NASA, so we could flip them off from even further away.
And, in 1969, we did it, we landed on the moon. I have no idea if Neil or Buzz flipped the Soviets off (I would have).
Anyway, science-fiction had become reality. Yet with science-fiction, there is always more. Now we could dream about going to space regularly. And then to the moon regularly. And then to the moon for lunch.
Once we get to other planets, we’ll want to get to other galaxies. And then we’ll want to do it even faster. The moment we achieve anything, there will always be the dream of doing it better, faster, and cheaper.
Where once we dreamt of visiting Mars, eventually, it will be little more than a potty-break on the way to Io.
“All right, we’ll be passing Mars in 10-minutes. Does anyone have to go?”
“No.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause Mar’s is the last stop before we get to Grandma’s on Io and it’s not like I can pull over so you can pee in the bushes.”
Eventually, assuming we don’t wipe ourselves out, succumb to space-measles, or get wiped out by an alien race that looks like Mayor McCheese, we will become beings of pure energy, who exist outside space and time and have no need for any sort of technology. Yet there will still be stories.
“And these corporeal beings will have spears.”
“What is a spear?”
“A piece of dead tree with a point.”
“For what purpose?”
“When hurled, it will pierce another corporeal entity and end its existence, allowing the spearman to feed upon the now-dead flesh.”
“Oooooooh!”
“Oh, and they smell of feces.”
“OOOOOOH!”
Cheers,
-Jason
Take, for example, going to the moon.
In the pre-1960s, going to the moon was a fantasy at best. People hypothesized about ways to get there, such as giant cannons, really big slingshots, and a variety of narcotics, but there was very little understanding of what was actually required.
And then, in the ‘60s, Kennedy, embarrassed by the Soviets getting into space first and potentially flipping off the US from orbit, created NASA, so we could flip them off from even further away.
And, in 1969, we did it, we landed on the moon. I have no idea if Neil or Buzz flipped the Soviets off (I would have).
Anyway, science-fiction had become reality. Yet with science-fiction, there is always more. Now we could dream about going to space regularly. And then to the moon regularly. And then to the moon for lunch.
Once we get to other planets, we’ll want to get to other galaxies. And then we’ll want to do it even faster. The moment we achieve anything, there will always be the dream of doing it better, faster, and cheaper.
Where once we dreamt of visiting Mars, eventually, it will be little more than a potty-break on the way to Io.
“All right, we’ll be passing Mars in 10-minutes. Does anyone have to go?”
“No.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause Mar’s is the last stop before we get to Grandma’s on Io and it’s not like I can pull over so you can pee in the bushes.”
Eventually, assuming we don’t wipe ourselves out, succumb to space-measles, or get wiped out by an alien race that looks like Mayor McCheese, we will become beings of pure energy, who exist outside space and time and have no need for any sort of technology. Yet there will still be stories.
“And these corporeal beings will have spears.”
“What is a spear?”
“A piece of dead tree with a point.”
“For what purpose?”
“When hurled, it will pierce another corporeal entity and end its existence, allowing the spearman to feed upon the now-dead flesh.”
“Oooooooh!”
“Oh, and they smell of feces.”
“OOOOOOH!”
Cheers,
-Jason
Sunday, March 9, 2008
This and That
Well, convention season is drawing closer. Leigh and I are planning on hitting three or four this year, though we haven't finalized any yet. We hope to be doing a couple in the Northwest, as well as one or two in California and potentially even one in Texas.
More info will be forthcoming as things are finalized.
Also, I would like to add that the forum has been very lively lately. We've been lucky enough to get some intelligent, witty, and frequent posters, so if you're at all interested in Wayfarer's Moon, there's tons of commentary and the occasional explanation about the world of Lachryn from myself and Leigh.
Tomorrow, I plan on finally finishing up my blog on Sci-Fi (hint: even faster spaceships and walking).
Cheers,
-Jason
More info will be forthcoming as things are finalized.
Also, I would like to add that the forum has been very lively lately. We've been lucky enough to get some intelligent, witty, and frequent posters, so if you're at all interested in Wayfarer's Moon, there's tons of commentary and the occasional explanation about the world of Lachryn from myself and Leigh.
Tomorrow, I plan on finally finishing up my blog on Sci-Fi (hint: even faster spaceships and walking).
Cheers,
-Jason
Friday, March 7, 2008
A Rite of Passage
Today, I have become a man.
Well, technically, I’ve been a man for 38 years (or at least male), not counting that year when everyone called me Susan.
Actually, I should state that today I have become a man on the Internet. No, I did not have sex with my computer (it’s full of metal and electricity, two things that are traditionally bad for your privates).
I received the Nigerian Letter scam mail.
This is the one where the guy has several million dollars that he can’t reach, but through complicated financial magic involving you giving him several thousand dollars, he will in return give you a couple million. This is actually a very old scam that has been updated for the internet. It’s known as an ‘advance-fee fraud’ and variants include the Spanish Prisoner.
I’ve read about it. I’ve known people who’ve seen it, but I’ve never actually received it until now.
A plateau has been reached. An apex achieved. A peak peaked. A very tall thing has been trod upon. I can now go on with my life, secure in the knowledge that someone thought that I had enough money to be worthy of scamming.
The joke’s on them. I’ve got a ’93 pickup, a ’94 cat, and a computer that won’t play Call of Duty 4.
Frankly, I should be scamming them.
Cheers,
-Jason
Well, technically, I’ve been a man for 38 years (or at least male), not counting that year when everyone called me Susan.
Actually, I should state that today I have become a man on the Internet. No, I did not have sex with my computer (it’s full of metal and electricity, two things that are traditionally bad for your privates).
I received the Nigerian Letter scam mail.
This is the one where the guy has several million dollars that he can’t reach, but through complicated financial magic involving you giving him several thousand dollars, he will in return give you a couple million. This is actually a very old scam that has been updated for the internet. It’s known as an ‘advance-fee fraud’ and variants include the Spanish Prisoner.
I’ve read about it. I’ve known people who’ve seen it, but I’ve never actually received it until now.
A plateau has been reached. An apex achieved. A peak peaked. A very tall thing has been trod upon. I can now go on with my life, secure in the knowledge that someone thought that I had enough money to be worthy of scamming.
The joke’s on them. I’ve got a ’93 pickup, a ’94 cat, and a computer that won’t play Call of Duty 4.
Frankly, I should be scamming them.
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Easter Bunny
This was sent to me the other day and while it's kinda funny, it's also weird and creepy at the same time.
The Easter Bunny Hates You.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnXR5Baq0X8
Enjoy (or maybe not).
Cheers,
-Jason
The Easter Bunny Hates You.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnXR5Baq0X8
Enjoy (or maybe not).
Cheers,
-Jason
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Gary Gygax Passed Away
Most of you have already heard by now that Gary Gygax, creator of Dungeon's and Dragons, has passed away at the age of 69.
When I heard the news, I was not particularly moved. I was ‘bummed,’ for lack of a better work. He was a minor celebrity and though I enjoyed his creations, I had no real connection to the man.
However, I then began to think about him and what DnD has meant to me.
I started playing DnD when I was 9. I’m 38 now, so that means I’ve been playing for 29 years. My love for DnD has outlasted friendships, pets, numerous girlfriends, and quite a few Presidents.
Since learning to play, I have completed Elementary and High School and earned a college degree. I’ve lived in 8 different places, moved between states, and lost my dad and a couple friends, including the one who introduced me to DnD in the first place.
DnD has influenced my choice of careers, the friends I keep, and even Wayfarer’s Moon. It has been the single biggest constant in my life besides my family.
After thinking about all that, I am now truly saddened by Gary Gygax’s passing, if only because I never got to meet him, shake his hand and say ‘thanks’ for creating something wonderful.
-Jason
When I heard the news, I was not particularly moved. I was ‘bummed,’ for lack of a better work. He was a minor celebrity and though I enjoyed his creations, I had no real connection to the man.
However, I then began to think about him and what DnD has meant to me.
I started playing DnD when I was 9. I’m 38 now, so that means I’ve been playing for 29 years. My love for DnD has outlasted friendships, pets, numerous girlfriends, and quite a few Presidents.
Since learning to play, I have completed Elementary and High School and earned a college degree. I’ve lived in 8 different places, moved between states, and lost my dad and a couple friends, including the one who introduced me to DnD in the first place.
DnD has influenced my choice of careers, the friends I keep, and even Wayfarer’s Moon. It has been the single biggest constant in my life besides my family.
After thinking about all that, I am now truly saddened by Gary Gygax’s passing, if only because I never got to meet him, shake his hand and say ‘thanks’ for creating something wonderful.
-Jason
Monday, March 3, 2008
Sci-Fi: Part 1
I happened to watch Serenity again the other day. I really enjoy the film, even though Wash and Book both bite it (which, perversely, I really like, as I tire of movies where the heroes never take a hit).
Anyhow, whilst watching Mal and the crew run around, I wondered: what kind of escapist entertainment do these people have? Fantasy, is well, fantasy. It hasn’t really changed much since Tolkien defined it in the sixties (though I do love it so).
Sci-fi, however, is seemingly forever.
There was a book I read in college during my Popular Fiction course whose name I can’t remember. One aspect was that everyone ran around talking on little fold-up phones. This was in the early ‘90s, when mobile phones were large and bulky and looked like they belonged in a WWII movie. This was one of the ‘cool’ parts of the book and seemed very futuristic. Now, of course, everyone has cell phones and as they have become commonplace, science-fiction has moved on.
Even cavemen probably had some sort of science-fiction, even though cooked food was probably just catching on.
“And they have spear. But not like our spears.”
“How not like our spears?”
“They wood, but hard. Like stone.”
“Stone-wood?”
“Yes! And if you threw it very hard, it go through TWO mammoths.”
“Oooooooh!”
“Oh, and they not smell like dung.”
“OOOOOOH!”
Later: Part II – Beyond Lasers!
Anyhow, whilst watching Mal and the crew run around, I wondered: what kind of escapist entertainment do these people have? Fantasy, is well, fantasy. It hasn’t really changed much since Tolkien defined it in the sixties (though I do love it so).
Sci-fi, however, is seemingly forever.
There was a book I read in college during my Popular Fiction course whose name I can’t remember. One aspect was that everyone ran around talking on little fold-up phones. This was in the early ‘90s, when mobile phones were large and bulky and looked like they belonged in a WWII movie. This was one of the ‘cool’ parts of the book and seemed very futuristic. Now, of course, everyone has cell phones and as they have become commonplace, science-fiction has moved on.
Even cavemen probably had some sort of science-fiction, even though cooked food was probably just catching on.
“And they have spear. But not like our spears.”
“How not like our spears?”
“They wood, but hard. Like stone.”
“Stone-wood?”
“Yes! And if you threw it very hard, it go through TWO mammoths.”
“Oooooooh!”
“Oh, and they not smell like dung.”
“OOOOOOH!”
Later: Part II – Beyond Lasers!
Calling All Tech Heads: Part Deux
So, I tried to remove my power supply this weekend and no dice. I would have to remove the motherboard to get it out and I'm not nearly confident enough with hardware to do that.
My choices are now two-fold:
I could buy another new card, which is getting more difficult as I have an AGP bus and they don't seem to be making them anymore. At least, when I visit the computer shops they only have 2 AGP cards and a couple dozen PCI-E.
Or, I could splurge on a whole new system. If I go this route, I'm going to buy the biggest, meanest computer I can get, with the expectation that it will last for four to five years.
So, can anyone recommend either a good AGP card or a web-based company that is a) affordable and b) builds a good box?
Cheers,
-Jason
My choices are now two-fold:
I could buy another new card, which is getting more difficult as I have an AGP bus and they don't seem to be making them anymore. At least, when I visit the computer shops they only have 2 AGP cards and a couple dozen PCI-E.
Or, I could splurge on a whole new system. If I go this route, I'm going to buy the biggest, meanest computer I can get, with the expectation that it will last for four to five years.
So, can anyone recommend either a good AGP card or a web-based company that is a) affordable and b) builds a good box?
Cheers,
-Jason
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