Yet Another Great Idea

I have yet another great idea. It’s so simple it’s brilliant. And so brilliant it just might be insane. And so insane, it might actually wrap back around to simple again. It’s like the Circle of Life, only it involves a lot more hysterical laughter.
Shouting ‘you fools!’ is optional.

And here it is: self-cleaning bathrooms.

‘What?’ you may say, followed quickly by ‘madness!’ But let me assure you, it’s brilliant. See the first paragraph for an affirmation of this.

So, here’s what you do. You tile your entire bathroom (you may use linoleum if you prefer) and install a drain. Next, remove the whirly arm thingies and the soap dispensers from multiple dish washers and install them in the ceilings and walls, hooking them up to the water system and a big button just outside the bathroom that says ‘CLEAN.’

Then, when you want to clean your bathroom, you simply add soap, shut the door, and press the button. Your bathroom will then go through an entire wash cycle, spraying high-pressure water and soap all over every surface, rinsing it off, and then drying the whole place.

It would save time, money, and effort. As an additional bonus, you could put children, pets, patio furniture, appliances, and if your bathroom is big enough, motorcycles. And yes, you could even put the dishes in there.

Like I said, brilliant.

Strangely enough, I had this idea while cleaning my bathroom last weekend. My brother is coming for a visit, so I figured I should at least get rid of anything that can actually move. Everything else is negligible.

He’s my brother. He’s not particularly squeamish.

On the plus side, I found my Swiffer, so I swiffered the hell out of my kitchen floor. I then discovered that you can swiffer a wall too. Now everything smells like lemons and rotting flesh.

NOTE: There’s a zombie in the closet. No, I don’t know how or why, but he had my Swiffer, which explains both the smells.

Anyway, feel free to install a self-cleaning bathroom. However, I make no guarantees as to the safety, efficiency, or sanity of such a project.

And I’m not sure if ‘swiffer’ is really a word. I’m just sayin’.

Cheers,
-Jason

Frickin' War

This Sunday, I cleaned my bathroom.

It was not a decision I took lightly. There were things in there. Things that H.P. Lovecraft on an acid trip couldn’t have imagined. Things that the English language cannot adequately describe. Indeed, no form of communication ever used by humans could come close to describing what lurked in the vast recesses of my bathroom.

And yet, these things had become familiar to me. Friends, almost. I would walk in and immediately hear the skittering of hundreds of tiny, misshapen feet. If you left the light off, they would venture forth, slowly, chanting in their strange, alien tongue. They called me ‘Oomfu,’ which I understood meant ‘He Who Makes the Smell.’

They would leave little gifts sometimes. Small, delicate, flower-like growths that exploded if exposed to direct sunlight. Wistful constructions of toilet paper that resembled three-winged birds with snake heads. And most strange of all, little tiny mints like you get on a hotel pillow. We had an understanding. I used the bathroom, but did not disturb their intricate ecosystem. But then it all changed.

They grew hostile. The delicate gifts were replaced with tacks and small, bitey things that looked like the spawn of a fly and a miniature tube of toothpaste. I weathered their attacks, but did not retaliate. I expected that at any day, we would go back to our former amicable relationship.

But then I found one of my comic books in there. Its cover was wrinkled, its pages smudged by hundreds of tiny little pedipalps. That my friends, meant frickin’ war.

Armed with a can of Comet in one hand and a scrubby sponge in the other, I went in. Their slings and tiny spears were of no use against my massive bulk. I was the Godzilla to their Tokyo. The Gort to their National Guard. The Galacticus to their Earth and they were fresh out of Reed Richards.

I’m not proud of what I did. Well, yeah, just a little, but my bathroom is clean now. Sterile almost. The pictographs are all gone, as are the tiny houses made out of dental floss and towel lint.

I do kind of miss them, in a way. I miss the cries of ‘Oomfa!’ and the strange, reedy music they would play between 4:13 and 4:18 am. I realize that their marvelous mold-based civilization is gone forever now and I’m saddened by that. The world will never again hear the strange burbling sounds they made nor see ever again the crude running shoes they manufactured out of toilet paper tubes. I will miss many things about them, especially the pillow mints.

Those things were fantastic.

Cheers,
-Jason

Would You Like to Reboot?

I made a mistake today. I was in the middle of putting a level together. My hands were sweaty, almost shaking, as I cautiously maneuvered a toilet into position. I placed it and then grabbed a sink. That was placed near the toilet (but not too near!) and I went for the toilet paper holder. Yes, I was building yet another bathroom and I was in a groove. This would be the single greatest bathroom ever.

And then it happened.

A box appeared in the middle of my screen. I didn’t want to be distracted, so I absently clicked on it to get it out of the way (which was the mistake. It minimized and I went back to the difficult and demanding task before me: placing a light switch just so. I placed a few more items, the intensity of my stare almost melting the monitor in front of me.

All of a sudden a message appeared: ‘The updates have been successfully installed. Your machine must reboot for the updates to take effect. Reboot now? Reboot later?’

I, of course, clicked on ‘Reboot later.’ Nothing would deter me from finding the exact ducky texture needed to finish the bathroom.

Two minutes later: Reboot Now? Reboot Later?

‘Catnuts!’ I half-shouted, scaring my office-mates. Reboot Later was pressed again. Two minutes later, the same thing.

I was stuck. I had to reboot the damn machine to get rid of the message.

Why does that message have to appear so frequently? ‘Reboot Later’ shouldn’t mean ‘Pester me until I reboot,’ it should mean ‘I’ll reboot when I’m ready to reboot.’ Bathrooms won’t build themselves after all and who wants an interruption when they’re in the middle of working? It’s even worse when it’s in the middle of gaming and just as some orc is trying to floss his teeth on your hamstring, that message pops up. By the time you get it off your screen, said orc has already worked his way up to your knees.

A major problem? No, but an ‘aaaagh!’ moment nonetheless.

Cheers,
-Jason

Where the Bad Guys Go to Go: Part 2

Duke Nukem, I think, was the first game wherein I saw a bathroom in-game. Strippers too, actually.

NOTE: Strippers in a video game that is. I had seen them before. Well, once. From a distance. I was outside and they were inside. So, no (and yes), actually.

The other thing you almost never see in a video game is recreational facilities. Strippers sort of count, but I was actually referring to things like pool tables, swimming pools, weight rooms, that sort of thing. Your average Stormtrooper needs somewhere to blow off steam after a long day at the range not hitting the targets.

NOTE: I do not actually know if there are bathrooms listed on the technical blueprints for the Death Star. I would guess ‘yes.’ Someone let me know if I’m right or wrong.

I once drove a manager up the wall by constantly asking for a basketball court whenever he requested lists of new art assets. He finally asked why I kept asking for said basketball court and I replied ‘because the guys need something to do when they’re not fighting.’ Needless to say, the court was never made.

So what’s my point? Heck if I know. It’s probably something about how including real-life fixtures in video games help increase immersion and depth. Do you need bathrooms in games? No, but I think they can add value to a product.

Oh and can somebody tell me where the bathrooms are in Orgrimmar? My 70th Hunter hasn’t gone, well, ever.

Cheers,
-Jason

Where the Bad Guys Go to Go

The other day, I was busy at work, assembling a bathroom as part of a level I’m working on.

NOTE: I’m currently a level designer. I construct levels for video games. I did not actually build a bathroom. Well, I did, but in the game. Not in real life. I have actually built bathrooms in real life. Really. Ergo: I can build bathrooms in a variety of realities.

My boss happened into the office and said “What’re you working on?”

“A bathroom,” I replied, not adding the ‘duh’ on the end.

He paused for a second. “Why?”

I turned to look at him. “So the bad guys have a place to poop.”

He considered that. “Cool.”

I then showed him the kitchen I’d built (again, in the game, though I have built kitchens in real life too). I did not bother to tell him that that was where the bad guys got the food that they then turned into poop.

This is actually something that bugs in video games and a lot of movies. There are never bathrooms. You see the occasional kitchen and plenty of barracks, but you rarely ever see a bathroom. Doom 3, for example, had plenty of closets for critters to attack you from, but only two bathrooms in the entire game. They both happened to be towards the beginning of the game, which leads me to believe that the poor guys at the far end of the complex either had to learn to hold it or were issued Depends as part of their standard uniform.

Later: Part 2 brought to you by the number 2.