Further Assimilations

I woke up this morning in an absolutely foul mood, worn-out and upset at the world. About half-way through my drive to work, I realized I had reached that all-too-common state where my irritability had become self-sustaining, and continually fed on its own black blood to maintain its power over me.

Mainly, that realization's a good thing, because the moment I'm consciously aware of that situation is always the moment that 95% of the mood's power evaporates. The down side is that I'll be spending much of the morning, if not the day, having to stay alert against attempts by that remaining 5% to come back and take over again. It's tiring, and still leaves a bitter aftertaste to the hours.

As usual, writing about it seems to help a bit.

Could a techno-magical item in an online computer game be a sign of personal growth in real life?

At level 70 in WoW, players unlock the ability to ride flying critters (for a substantial training sum of 800 gold pieces). At this point, a player will usually spend an extra hundred gold to buy a flying mount, but engineer characters may build their own. (Unless one's second profession is mining, one's going to spend much more than a hundred gold on the necessary materials.)

There's a single part to the flying machine that my miner/engineer didn't know how to make on her own, and it's only taught by one NPC - who would teach her the blueprint if she achieved "Revered" diplomatic status with his organization of dimension-hopping smugglers. The good news is that she could gain 250 reputation points every time she turned in 10 certain emblems that certain slain enemies would drop 33%-50% of the time. The bad news? She needed about 18,000 reputation points to reach Revered.

The good news is that in the process, my engineer looted enough gold to pay for the flying training. In fact, about 14,000 points in, she had enough to just go and buy the griffon flying mount. But, despite temptation, I didn't do so. Enough of the enemy characters had died to populate a small village by this point, and the whole thing had become fairly tedious, but I'd started this job, and something inside me wouldn't take the easy route. I dug in my heels, and little Mirandala collected another 160 emblems.

Now, Mir has her Gnomish Flying Machine (a magical steampunk rattletrap in which the engine misses a few cycles every five minutes or so). And, funnily enough, I'm proud of myself. Sure, it was only a game; but I find it easy to fall into the trap of procrastinating about things, taking shortcuts where offered, or being distracted by shiny things that catch my attention. Here, I chose a task and stuck to it, and now I have something different than the griffon buyers do. Not too shabby.

(Yes, I did much other cool stuff this weekend, including a good party and some general housecleaning. It really is still just a game.)

I appear to have recovered from the sinus infection I had before MarsCon only to walk right into a full-blown bout with the influenza. This is an especially impressive achievement considering that I had the flu shot back in November. Go Me. So now I'm into the negatives again with my sick days at work - thank goodness that they're pretty flexible - and sitting in bed taking Tamiflu twice a day and remembering what food and drink were like when my sense of taste was functional. Whine whine carp carp bleh.

It's kinda funny to watch some people acting like Obama has already completely ruined his presidency based on a few choices that I admit I don't agree with either. It's even funnier, in a completely pathetic kind of way, to watch "Rapture Ready" Christians glancing impatiently at the sky while wondering why Jesus hasn't come to rid them of this Antichrist. Y'know, he's just a man, albeit an intelligent, articulate one with some ideas that, if they work out the way he says, could leave this country in markedly better shape when he leaves power. Which he will do, in no more than eight years tops, because that's what the laws of the country say. But he's still just a dude. He's got four more years minimum to try to impress as many of us as he can, and we really ought to give a fair fraction of that to him before we declare him a failure.

(P.S. He's also not the dictator of America. Whether the country is any better in four years has as much if not more to do with what its collected citizens do, than with any orders he gives. The most he can do is inspire, positively or negatively. It's hypocritical to throw our responsibilities as citizens on the President's shoulders and then be angry him if we don't like the way things go.)

Okay, enough politics. Sort of. I had an excellent time at MarsCon, it offered me everything I could want from a weekend fan con and I indulged to the practical limit. I'm already in line for next year's, and I think I may even have contributed to the next chosen theme. I've heard a little bit of whining in places, though for the most part I've put it down to folks with entitlement issues.

But I've also heard quiet murmurs of staff drama. These may be overblown, and already handled, in which case I'm a happy fan. However, as I look at some of the difficulties my favorite cons have hit over the years, I'm seeing a certain cycle. Since it always seems to hit sometime between the con's tenth and fifteenth year, I'm calling it Con Puberty; after years of success, suddenly the con is hit with massive crises of staffing, programming, funding, and or general personality - an identity crisis, if you will. Sometimes they survive, sometimes they don't - often the event will fragment and reassemble as a new con with echoes of its predecessor. But either way, unlike normal puberty, in another 10-15 years, it'll hit again.

RoVaCon survived it once, and was killed the second time; it looks as though Technicon is going to follow the same path. Rising Star rose from the ashes of RoVaCon, then years later survived its own puberty by evolving into a different con with the same name. Sci-Con evolved into a completely different event with a new identity; and now, as I count back, MarsCon has been around under that name for, what - ten-fifteen years?

MarsCon's a great con. To get all circularly Frankensteinian with my metaphors, if the con's indeed having any issues, I'm hoping it's not Con Puberty, but simply a minor, quickly remedied staff infection.

I can think of several things for which I'm thankful today:

Everything is out of the apartment now except for some random cleaning supplies, and a couple of lamps and a vacuum cleaner that wouldn't fit in the car last night. This will be taken care of this weekend when I drop off the keys. For this I am very thankful to Starr and, well, me. We've both put no small effort into all these boxes.

I am thankful to Starr for many things, in fact; but they're all mushy and I'll save that for some other time.

I am thankful to Starr's parents for allowing us to use their house for the next year or two. We'll be very comfortable here, and we'll be able to save up some money which we'll need to get our own place. (Midori is thankful to them for the gas fireplace, which is one of the best things the furless monkeys have invented since domesticated catnip and the chewy kitty treat.)

I'm thankful to NASA for giving me the opportunity to show me what I could do for them, and to rattrap for encouraging my developing Macintosh skills in the first place. I'm also thankful to the designers of the Apple Newton, whose long-cancelled product inadvertently provided me with some "hardcore Mac expert" cred in the most recent planning meeting.

I am thankful to the grocery store owners and workers who allowed their stores to be open this morning, so I could acquire the remaining bits of a quiet Thanksgiving surprise dinner to serve Starr, who once again works a holiday.

I'm thankful to the creators and operators of LiveJournal, without whom I'd never be able to keep track of what's going on with all my friends. My peeps are a complicated, intelligent, opinionated, goofy bunch - which is exactly how I like it, and my life would be horribly diminished without them.

I'm thankful to all the people that I like and love that my emo side is awfully disappointed this holiday. I'm supposed to be, and fully expected to be, horribly dissatisfied with my life at this age. Problem with that is, there's so much good in my life right now... how can I let the few speed bumps slow me down?

Since I was four years old, I have maintained an irrational belief in a color-blind human future where we tore around the universe in shiny white FTL spaceships.

I can't foresee whether, in the long run, history will consider this man a competent president. But I do know that tonight, my species has just taken another tiny symbolic step toward that future where there's only one human race. And yeah, I'm getting a little verklempt about it.

Good night, everyone. See you tomorrow.

Here are some people with some advice about what you - yes, you - should be doing with your time this week, and the beginning of next month, if you're an adult American.

You may have heard of some of these people. Some of the folks on my friends list may disagree with almost every word that comes out of their mouths. Ironically enough, that's an excellent justification for doing exactly what the people on this video want you to do.


There's some NSFW language, but if you can, watch this. Then, really: do what they say. We'll all thank you.

I am turning Starr into a Hayao Miyazaki fan, getting her attention with "The Castle of Cagliostro", cheering her on a bleh evening with "Kiki's Delivery Service", and charming her last night with "My Neighbor Totoro". After "Nausicaa" and "Spirited Away", though, I'll be all out and have to pick up some more sometime.

Oddly enough, by coincidence she'd been reading up on Shinto traditions yesterday afternoon, and recognized much of them in the movie - more than I! I foresee a Catbus plush in our future.

Also, over the weekend I finally saw the "Lost Skeleton of Cadavra" (Rowr.) An intentionally bad 50s-style SF movie, this flick is awesome if the viewer's got the right sense of humor. The associated drinking game required drinks on the words "science", "meteor", "atmospherium", "alien", "mutant", and "skeleton". I didn't participate, mainly because I don't drink, but also because I'd have ended up blasted out of my mind. Why do people need to pretend to be forced to drink alcohol?

The other weekend movie was "Dorkness Rising". I really loved it, and am tempted to buy a copy; good script, nice production values for a low-budget film, and an utterly believable - if silly - look at the GM-player dynamic in tabletop RPGs. Additionally, much of the scenes 'within the game' are absolutely hilarious. Really, if you game and you happen to see this on the video schedule at a con, make time to see it.

I will be 40 years old on November 15th. I'm not sure what it says about me that I'm still reminding myself multiple times per day to act like a grownup. I've taken responsibility for a lot of things in life, and willingly so; I want the perks of adulthood. But it means there's a long list these days of stuff that I can't wait for someone else to take care of for me, and after all these years I'm still learning many of the tricks of handling a grownup's duties.

On the other hand, I am surrounded every day by people who aren't giving that half the effort I am, so I suppose there's hope. :)

After watching Yahtzee take apart the XBox 360 game "Too Human", I saw a trailer for the new Warhammer Online game starting up, so I stuck around. Now, I won't be playing "WAR", as it's called, if for no other reasons than a) I'm still enjoying WoW just fine, thank you, and b) as is so often the case, I'm using the wrong OS. One WAR developer's mentioned with a wink that he's working on something important involving his non-Windows computer, but I take that with a Massively Multiplayer Grain Of Salt (MMGOS).

Okay, but I do read the blogs from the beta testers, and it looks like while WAR won't be a revolution in online role-playing, they have a few nifty ideas, and kudos to them if they make it all work. As I've said before, I've long grown out of the idea that my fandoms and other people's fandoms must engage in steel cage matches until only one can stagger out. But the point of this whole entry is the reaction I had to the trailer, a reaction that surprised me. While I might have been interested in the game under other circumstances, I hated the trailer. I had an intense negative reaction to it. Why?

WAR has two 'factions' one can play: Order and Destruction. In the trailer, we see Destruction assault a capital city of Order. Death is everywhere, people dying of (bloodless) sword wounds, spear wounds, arrow wounds, magical fire, magical ice, and crushing mass. The trailer shows us the Dwarves, Humans, High Elves, Dark Elves, Greenskin, and Chaos forces slaughtering each other as the city is knocked apart around them. (I am somehow unsurprised that both Elven 'hero' avatars are females who manage to make it through the trailer unscathed, and in the case of the Dark Elf, scantily dressed.)

So, of course there's war. It's called Warhammer! But the video made something abundantly clear: in the world of Warhammer, Destruction wins.

It may not look like it. The last scene of the trailer shows the three Order races facing some huge monster, and we are led to believe that the resolution is up in the air. But look around the heroes. There are bodies everywhere. The city is smashed. Even should the monster be defeated, Destruction can just come back tomorrow, to a city that's still smashed and carpeted with the dead.

(Oh, I know that in the game, the city will reset overnight, buildings will spring back into existence, and the citizens will respawn. I'm not talking about the game, I'm talking about the fictional world.)

It takes years to build a city, weeks to construct a building, and decades to produce an adult warrior. It only takes hours, minutes, or seconds to end that existence. Destruction is easy. The years of food and housing and training and socializing that went into that warrior are countered with a single arrow. If all one cares to produce is wreckage, the world is quite willing to help.

(This, by the way, is why I had to give up on Battletech fiction after a while. Excellent games, and the individual novels ranged from okay to excellent, but they painted a reality where a star-faring humanity nearly pounded itself back to coal and steam, called a truce, recovered long enough to rebuild some technology, and then immediately resumed smashing everything within the reach of a Jump Drive. And they did this cycle repeatedly.)

Now, the game isn't exactly its fiction. Once online, Order and Destruction have nigh-infinite resources in the long run, and new weapons, warriors, and metropolises with the click of a mouse button. But the fictional background shown in that trailer is far too bleak and pointless for my tastes, and unless the WAR loremasters have something up their sleeves, this is a world that offers me little appeal.

tzel reposted an very good article from steamfashion into the midlantic_steam community. I believe that this post about the new costuming trend in fandom (which some are already complaining about) reflects an issue that's been around for a long time. With notations and edits, here's my abridged version of the post:

Rule One: Steampunk fashion is a real-world reproduction of the clothing that is or could be found in steampunk literature. It's that simple. Note the phrase "could be" in that sentence.

Rule Two: When in doubt, dress Victorian and then add. Here's a nice simple baseline. Again, that's baseline, not Scripture.

Rule Three: Steampunk fashion is about creating an [entertaining] outfit [...]. Never feel obliged to take away from the style or appeal of an outfit simply because you fear it will be "not steampunk enough." There is no "steampunk fashion bible", and attempts to create one should be ignored.

Rule Four: There is no "steampunk color." Some people have claimed that steampunk is only brown, or only black, or only white, or only light, or only dark. They are wrong. In reality, Victoria herself may have stuck to black, but the rest of the world didn't. And we're not exactly recreating reality here anyway.

Rule Five: You are allowed to like other genres. If you like a style of fashion that does not fit into steampunk be proud of it. This is not One Fandom to Rule Them All, any more than pulp SF, Trek, anime, B5, fursuiting, Galactica, or Firefly were. It is a way for like-minded individuals to have fun.

Rule Six: Have fun and be yourself. That's what this is about. Don't feel compelled to conform with everyone else. Fandom needs individuals and noncomformists. You didn't join the counterculture just to find a clique within it. Express your vision!

I often feel that there are too many rules, too many pecking orders, too many boundaries in fandom. Perhaps some of them evolved from guidelines intended to help the socially unskilled from being complete jerks. But I think much of it comes from people's natural tendency to find a leader and be part of a movement, safe inside something bigger than they are. But fandom's roots are in dreams, imagination, and fun; and when a leader intentionally or unintentionally suppresses that in service to his or her own vision, it's a mistake.

The very first group I hooked up with, Starfleet, had ranks imitating its fictional namesake. The idea was that these ranks would reflect a recognition of service to the club and a responsibility for the club's operation. But some of the fans decided that the rank gave them paramilitary power, and that they could make decisions for the other club members. This caused enough trouble that, eventually, Chapter Chairpersons were specifically advised to downplay the "rank" structure in chapter activities.

Conversely, my own first chapter, and the ones that followed it, encouraged personal uniforms of the fan's own design; ran role-playing sessions in which anything that could be shoehorned into the Trek universe was allowed; and treated 'ranks' as a subject for silly wordplay. (Woe to my first chapter chairperson when she attained the rank of Rear Admiral.) We did massive damage to Paramount canon in those days, but boy, did we enjoy ourselves.

I suspect that the modern preoccupation with the 'right way' to be a fan is partly the Internet's fault; by making it so easy for a fan to find people who agree with their point of view, the 'Net made it less necessary to learn tolerance and even appreciation of the fen who didn't quite. But it also offers more exposure to new and different ideas, and opportunities to have more fun and meet more people, not to mention more places to buy cool costume and accessory stuff, so there's no point in technology-bashing.

Recently, I've had the privilege of visiting some cons willing to relax the boundaries, ditch the unnecessary rules, and throw wrenches into the artificial fan heirarchies. I love this, and I think it's beneficial to nearly every fan. So at the next con you attend, help bring some craziness back; wear a hall costume, cheap or fancy, and wear it your way! Wear a leather miniskirt with your Galactica uniform; furry ears and tail of a species unknown to real or speculative zoology; an anime costume where the fabric choice and sleeve length are darn well inaccurate, thank you; or, horrors, a steampunk costume in red and silver! Sure, some small-minded person may write something insulting in their blog when they get home.

So what? You're having fun.

MTV is planning to remake the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

What a complete and utter waste of time and money. Something as bizarre as RHPS happens once. You can't make it better; after all we don't keep going to see it because it's good. We go to see it specifically because it scrambles one's brain, rinses it, and hangs it up to dry; all the while supported by Richard O'Brien's catchy songs, Tim Curry's matchless hamming, and a theater full of fellow weirdos who, for 100 minutes, are in the same headspace with us.

I wish them good fortune - they'll need quite a lot of it.