Until very recently, I never had vivid dreams when sleeping. Everyone dreams--it's semi-random neurons firing when one sleeps, and if your brain isn't doing that then you're probably dead or in a coma. Anyone who says they don't dream when they sleep usually just can't remember their dreams.
Lately, I've been becoming more aware of mine. They've become more vivid. In the past, they were just vague images that didn't make sense, whereas lately they have characters I can remember and semi-cohesive plots (as far as dreams go, anyway). I can rarely remember anything about them an hour or so after I wake other than the sense of "wow, that was weird in a cool way, and I wish I could go back and finish that off." I've been pondering the possible implications of this, and my hope is that this means I'm getting caught up on the massive college-induced sleep debt I've worked up over the years.
This morning, I remembered vivid details on a dream for the fist time. I'm honestly rather excited about this, 'cause it was a pretty fun dream. Apparently it was set in a DnD universe, and this time I was playing a halfling rogue specialized in throwing weapons--an archetype I quite enjoy playing when I get the chance, I know it was a halfling because my view of the world was very close to the ground, and I remember having to look up at everything. I know it was a rogue because once in a while I'd throw a knife at the random orc and "Sneak attack: ##" would appear above them, and they would promptly die. The damage values from the sneak attacks were consistent, even; based on those, I'd guess I was around level 16 or so. The end of the dream was the appearance of a dude I know from reality. Real nice, real timid dude. He proceeded to one-shot the party tank. I got a couple of sneak attacks off, and it didn't even phase him. About then, the dog started barking and I woke up.
I dunno, it's just something that's sticking out as really, really unusual for me. I figure if nothing else it'd be good to have this up here for myself, in case I forget tomorrow.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
My WoW experience
So, over the past week or so, I've been playing a WoW trial. It was interesting, and I might as well give my impressions here.
So, first off, the best mechanical aspect of the game, and the thing that I hope other programmers learn from the most, is the crafting/gathering system. I've seen other games with crafting systems, but few that actually remain useful throughout the game. Either you only get things that are useful until you find something better off an enemy (which doesn't take long), or you can't craft anything until you've got money to spend on expensive materials. On WoW, I took mining and blacksmithing, and if I had focused on it a bit more I could have made equipment on par with what I found from random monsters. However, I didn't because I couldn't get on the auction house on the trial, and there were things I needed for crafting that I couldn't get on my own, such as leather. Most of my gear on my paladin was stuff I'd found, but the stuff I could have made with the proper items would have probably been better. From what I can tell, the absolute best stuff is stuff you find at high levels, but it looked like there was pretty good shit to be made as well, taking a peek at the higher level items. The only other system I've played on that even came close was Lineage II's. That system failed in that it made entire classes who's primary feature was crafting, leaving them gimped in combat relative to other classes (and therefore a nightmare to level). Here, my crafting abilities complemented my combat abilities. Same with my mage's alchemy, but we'll get to that in a second.
The game is beautiful, there's no doubt about that. It was stylized too. There were a few things that bothered me (a few who played with me might recall me ranting about how a human male's forearms are as big/bigger than the rest of their arms, and holy shit at their hands!) but for the most part everything was just pretty. And on this old computer, that's pretty impressive. Still, I think Blizzard went a bit too far to show it off. Having to walk for twenty minutes to get to a quest destination does a lot to show off the scale of the game, but it also interrupts the gameplay, and that's no fun. I think that's something about Guild Wars I prefer; you can step out and usually start doing any quests you're given in a minute or less. Having to fly everywhere was majestic and all that, but it also took up time I'd have rather used killing bandits and such. That bothered me.
The most important thing, of course, was the combat. I went all out with the classes. My end total was five characters. Easiest was the hunter, but the most fun was the paladin. If I ever actually get the game, I'll probably make him my main character. With three different, "Oh, shit!" buttons to help survive as well as 60+ damage per strike (110+ on criticals) and decent armor, I rarely needed to spend time between battles healing up, and if I did, I had a spell for that.
The other one I played long enough to really make a judgement with was the mage. And goddamn, I hate playing the mage alone. He was hella fun in the instance, but when alone, it was basically kill one enemy, drink for about 20 seconds, kill another enemy, drink for about 20 seconds, attack another enemy and get killed by a stray critical. People keep telling me that this is because I specced fire, but when I look at the talents available for frost at that level... It just looks like I'd be doing less damage. There was nothing there that would have boosted my survivability that much. I understand that it's a class that doesn't really come around until level 40 (according to several other opinions) but that's just bad design. The classes should be viable throughout the game. Hell, my paladin was doing more damage than the mage, and he had better health and armor to boot! At that point, there are some serious problems that need to be addressed in the system. Maybe I was just doing it wrong, I dunno. Either way, didn't like leveling the mage.
I would like to play it. I don't think the game is anywhere near as good as the hype makes it out to be, but it was fun and I'd like to be able to play with friends. Unfortunately, I have no computer, so that's not likely to happen. Even if I get a computer, I noticed that I didn't get much done during that time. Fortunately, there wasn't much that NEEDED to be done this time, but if there were, it might have been bad. I dunno, and for now I'm not gonna think that hard on it--I need a computer first.
So, first off, the best mechanical aspect of the game, and the thing that I hope other programmers learn from the most, is the crafting/gathering system. I've seen other games with crafting systems, but few that actually remain useful throughout the game. Either you only get things that are useful until you find something better off an enemy (which doesn't take long), or you can't craft anything until you've got money to spend on expensive materials. On WoW, I took mining and blacksmithing, and if I had focused on it a bit more I could have made equipment on par with what I found from random monsters. However, I didn't because I couldn't get on the auction house on the trial, and there were things I needed for crafting that I couldn't get on my own, such as leather. Most of my gear on my paladin was stuff I'd found, but the stuff I could have made with the proper items would have probably been better. From what I can tell, the absolute best stuff is stuff you find at high levels, but it looked like there was pretty good shit to be made as well, taking a peek at the higher level items. The only other system I've played on that even came close was Lineage II's. That system failed in that it made entire classes who's primary feature was crafting, leaving them gimped in combat relative to other classes (and therefore a nightmare to level). Here, my crafting abilities complemented my combat abilities. Same with my mage's alchemy, but we'll get to that in a second.
The game is beautiful, there's no doubt about that. It was stylized too. There were a few things that bothered me (a few who played with me might recall me ranting about how a human male's forearms are as big/bigger than the rest of their arms, and holy shit at their hands!) but for the most part everything was just pretty. And on this old computer, that's pretty impressive. Still, I think Blizzard went a bit too far to show it off. Having to walk for twenty minutes to get to a quest destination does a lot to show off the scale of the game, but it also interrupts the gameplay, and that's no fun. I think that's something about Guild Wars I prefer; you can step out and usually start doing any quests you're given in a minute or less. Having to fly everywhere was majestic and all that, but it also took up time I'd have rather used killing bandits and such. That bothered me.
The most important thing, of course, was the combat. I went all out with the classes. My end total was five characters. Easiest was the hunter, but the most fun was the paladin. If I ever actually get the game, I'll probably make him my main character. With three different, "Oh, shit!" buttons to help survive as well as 60+ damage per strike (110+ on criticals) and decent armor, I rarely needed to spend time between battles healing up, and if I did, I had a spell for that.
The other one I played long enough to really make a judgement with was the mage. And goddamn, I hate playing the mage alone. He was hella fun in the instance, but when alone, it was basically kill one enemy, drink for about 20 seconds, kill another enemy, drink for about 20 seconds, attack another enemy and get killed by a stray critical. People keep telling me that this is because I specced fire, but when I look at the talents available for frost at that level... It just looks like I'd be doing less damage. There was nothing there that would have boosted my survivability that much. I understand that it's a class that doesn't really come around until level 40 (according to several other opinions) but that's just bad design. The classes should be viable throughout the game. Hell, my paladin was doing more damage than the mage, and he had better health and armor to boot! At that point, there are some serious problems that need to be addressed in the system. Maybe I was just doing it wrong, I dunno. Either way, didn't like leveling the mage.
I would like to play it. I don't think the game is anywhere near as good as the hype makes it out to be, but it was fun and I'd like to be able to play with friends. Unfortunately, I have no computer, so that's not likely to happen. Even if I get a computer, I noticed that I didn't get much done during that time. Fortunately, there wasn't much that NEEDED to be done this time, but if there were, it might have been bad. I dunno, and for now I'm not gonna think that hard on it--I need a computer first.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
At last, a day where I have nothing to do...
Finals have begun, and the worst of them are over. Yesterday I had the AI final; a presentation and a paper due. The paper turned out well, the presentation was unimpressive. In the end, I think I aced the class; strong grades throughout the year and especially so towards the end, plus a solid final. Monday is the exam for Discrete, Tuesday my game for Practicum is due, and Wednesday I get to see the Robotics students show off their final products. Today, I'm not going to do a damned thing.
I got Personal 3 for my birthday. It's... interesting. I've got some severely mixed feelings about it. When I finish, I'll probably post a full review of the game here. Once I'm done with my general bullshitting on the internets, I'll probably get back to playing that.
I've been informed that I wasn't a very good robotics TA this semester. My professor gave me some bluntly honest criticisms about how I went about things, and it was exactly the kind of honesty I need so badly and so rarely get. Apparently, my loud voice combined with my large stature makes me a rather intimidating figure. I never knew! I use a few too many profanities in class, primarily because I thought of this class as being with peers, not me teaching students. It was supposed to be the latter. No one EVER tells me these things! This is exactly the kind of thing that would STOP if people would just tell me I'm doing them. It was an interesting conversation, and it's certainly going to change the way I go about things in the future. He's got another project in mind for me next semester that's going to be more fun anyway, so in the end everything's okay.
I got Personal 3 for my birthday. It's... interesting. I've got some severely mixed feelings about it. When I finish, I'll probably post a full review of the game here. Once I'm done with my general bullshitting on the internets, I'll probably get back to playing that.
I've been informed that I wasn't a very good robotics TA this semester. My professor gave me some bluntly honest criticisms about how I went about things, and it was exactly the kind of honesty I need so badly and so rarely get. Apparently, my loud voice combined with my large stature makes me a rather intimidating figure. I never knew! I use a few too many profanities in class, primarily because I thought of this class as being with peers, not me teaching students. It was supposed to be the latter. No one EVER tells me these things! This is exactly the kind of thing that would STOP if people would just tell me I'm doing them. It was an interesting conversation, and it's certainly going to change the way I go about things in the future. He's got another project in mind for me next semester that's going to be more fun anyway, so in the end everything's okay.
Friday, November 30, 2007
I would appreciate some feedback...
Okay. So. I'm in a Creative Writing: Short Fiction class right now. Our final stories are due Monday, and I'd like some peer reviews of mine. I'm not particularly happy with the ending, but other than that I'm pretty pleased so far. Please point out why I shouldn't be.
And before you point it out, yes. I'm using names I've used in RPs. I'm not particularly good at coming up with names and I reuse the ones I like; sue me.
But is it Justice? (Revision)
As the guards with the halberds lead me up the path to the courthouse, people lining the streets shout words of support to me. A few even throw rotten fruit or rocks at the guards with the halberds, focusing on the one carrying the chain to my manacles. Still, these men are all well disciplined and hardly flinch as the hurled projectiles glance off their armor, each stone producing a sharp ring as it bounces away from the steel. They hide it well, but I can see the fear in their eyes; fear that one of the peasants would come to the street with a crossbow or some other such implement of death that could pierce their breastplates, staining their green tabards with their blood, all to free their “savior.” But the peasants bring no implements of death. They all walk with me and the guards with the halberds the whole twenty minutes it takes to traverse the cobblestone path between the jailhouse and the courthouse. All the while, the commonfolk shout at me and the guards. They call me their hero, their liberator, their savior. In truth, I am nothing but a murderer.
The courthouse looms above us, its massive wooden doors creaking open on hinges in dire need of oil. They open slowly, and the guards with the halberds form a semi-circle around the entrance, standing at attention, keeping the throngs of observers at bay with their steely gazes, their weapons pointed skyward. This isn't enough to keep the people at the front back; in the end, the guards level their halberds, blades dangerously close to the people. This is enough to get them to retreat. Relieved, I think about the bitter irony of people dying to save a murderer like me.
Resigned to my fate, I walk into the courthouse. Only now did the guard who carried my ball put it down, taking gaping breaths as his muscles release the burden. Normally, a prisoner is made to carry his own ball; the lawmakers say something about it representing their shame. That a man was provided to carry my burden said many things, but most importantly was this; there is someone important who thinks I have nothing to be ashamed of. I thank him softly, and he simply nods in response, still struggling to catch his breath as I wonder who sent him.
Carrying the ball to the small podium that I'm told to stand at isn't so difficult, since it's only a few yards from the door. As I drop the iron weight to my side, I'm struck by how huge the room is; the unpainted brick walls seem to be miles away, and the light of the torches falls far short of illuminating the ceiling. The massive number of people sitting on the wooden bleachers whisper and mumble, the sound of their voices amplified by the room's echo to almost deafening levels. More guards with halberds stand between the assembled observers, and the ones who escorted me from the jailhouse stand before the huge wooden doors as they creak closed, all of them looking nearly identical with their green tabards and the open-faced helmets.
Suddenly, a clear tenor voice sounds over all the others, causing me to flinch. “The court will now have silence!” shouts the bailiff, and suddenly the only sound in the room is the faint echo of his order. “Thus begins the trial of Dorin Smithson for the murder of Duke Saberlin Farthing!” For a moment, I'm taken aback—his first name was Saberlin? I'd never heard that before.
“Representing the accused today is Gene Terrick, and representing the Farthing estate is Lathlan Keeyan! The mediator and decision maker for this trial is the esteemed Mother Seena Artly! As always, Saint Eua's eyes are upon us; may she see justice served on this day!”
“Thank you, baliff. You may take your seat,” says the elderly woman sitting at the mediator's desk, with a weak voice that barely carries throughout the room. In less dire circumstances, she might have seemed a motherly figure; her gray hair falls over her purple robes, and her wrinkled face looks down upon me with weary blue eyes. “Keeyan, please begin with a description of the crime.”
I look to my left as a thin, middle-aged man with black hair and a well-trimmed beard stands. “Yes, milady. Three nights ago, Lord Farthing was found in his dining room, dead. The wine he had been drinking had spilled on the floor around him, and was found to have been poisoned. Smithson, Lord Farthing's serving man that night, was questioned not two hour afterwards in his home, and admitted to the crime.”
As he sits, Seena's gaze falls upon me one more, and she nods gravely. “You admit freely to this, Mr. Smithson?”
“Y... yes, milady.” My voice is cracked and dry, and I realize that this is the first time I have spoken in at least a day.
“How was it done?”
I hesitate for a few moments, the details of that day flooding my mind. Slowly, I begin to recount Farthing's last moments.
“More wine!”
I rush forward with another golden goblet to Farthing's seat. The smell of the roasted water fowl he dines upon only reminds me of how little I had eaten myself lately. As I reach his seat, I hear the small door to the dining hall open. In one fluid motion, I place Farthing's next cup—his third for this meal alone—and pick up the one that had been emptied, the cup's golden surface reflecting the gleaming light of the chandelier above.
Through the doors, a guard enters. Farthing barely slows his feasting as the man approaches, sending a small glance towards the newcomer, annoyance and contempt plain in his beady eyes. The guard approaches briskly and kneels before Farthing, bowing his head as he speaks.
“My lord, five more workers have died in your silver mines, slain by beasts in the night.”
Farthing wipes a bit of wine that had been caught in his small beard with the neck of his silk robe as he turns to speak to the guard. “So find five more people who've lagged in payment of my respects and put them to work. Raise taxes if you need to.” He pauses a moment to belch before adding, “Raise them even if you don't need to, actually.”
This distraction is all I need. Moving away from the table, I take the small vial of mandrake poison out of my front pocket and dump the powder into the cup as I move back to the serving table across the room. It swirls in the cup as I pour yet more wine—I'd learned long ago that if I didn't get the his next drink to him quickly, I would be beaten afterwards. A few moments and the powder is thoroughly mixed with the drink, completely invisible to the eye.
As I add the poison, I can hear the guard behind me. “But sir, won't we bring the wrath of the knights upon us if we keep this up? I'm sure if sir Caid were to hear of this--”
“Caid? Why, goodsir Caid dined with me just last eve! I'm sure as long as the silver is pure and plentiful, he'll be able to overlook some minor details.” He chuckles as he adds, “Peasants die all the time, no?”
“I-- As you say, milord...” I turn just in time to see guard bow and leave the room without a word. He'd be sent to those mines himself if he disobeyed his lord, and I'd heard stories of the place that would make the Abyss seem inviting in comparison.
Returning to his meal, Farthing drains the contents of his goblet in one swallow, slamming the cup to the heavy wooden table when he finishes. Through more painful experience, I had come to know this as an order for another glass. Once more, I swiftly return, the tainted wine in hand. Upon arriving, I place the glass on the table without spilling a drop in spite of my shaking hands.
Farthing doesn't even give me time to scoop up his other goblet as he reaches for the freshly poured serving. I hastily return to my place; already I tell he knows something is wrong. I can hear him beginning to choke behind me, and I freeze. He begins making one of the most pathetic sounds I had ever heard, too soft to reach anyones ears but my own. It's almost like the crying of a child. I hear his heavy chair scrape against the floor as he tries to stand, but from the soft thud I hear next, I guess that his legs failed him. Through all of this, I haven't the will to turn and look at the man I had killed. After that, all I remember was running away and feeling the enormity of what I had just done sink in...
“And you freely admit to this?” Seena looks down upon me intensely.
“Yes.”
“I see... Mr. Keeyan, have you anything more to ask?”
Lathlan nods and says, “I would like to know more of the guard who distracted lord Farthing was; he is a potential accomplice in the murder.”
Suddenly, a truly innocent man's life was at stake, and I shout, “No!” After an awkward pause to recompose myself, I add, “That man had nothing to do with my plot! He was simply a convenience. I am the only one guilty of lord Farthing's murder. I worked completely alone.” And it's true. They say the mediators are blessed by Saint Eua with the ability to see truths and lies as they leave a guilty person's mouth, and I silently pray that this is true, lest the unfortunate guard who entered that night be brought down with me.
To my relief, she nods. “Eua's sight reveals all to me; the accused speaks the truth. He has concealed nothing from the Lady Justice, and admitted his guilt. The trial is over, and we will now proceed to sentencing.”
For the first time, I watch a man to my right stand. He is of a fairly pudgy build, with short blond hair and a pair of spectacles resting on his broad nose. His anger clearly visible on his face, Gene says, “Milady, I must respectfully object! All has not yet been said!”
I close my eyes as the observers all begin muttering, and flinch once more as the bailiff stands and demands silence. Seena gives a pained sigh and asks, “He has admitted to murder. The law says that the murder of a Duke entails excommunication followed by hanging. What more is there to reveal?”
“This man did murder, yes; that much is obvious.” He slams his fist on his desk and shouts, “However, what he did was for the good of all! Farthing was a tyrant who was unworthy of the gifts granted to him by his family, and the world is far better off without him! We should be knighting this man,” he says, gesturing grandly at me. “Not hanging him!”
“Nonsense!” Lathlan now stands, his voice even, a smirk on his face. Already, I feel sorry for Gene; I know Lathlan to be an experienced lawyer, and Gene, though I had heard he was a promising student, is fresh out of Helldrith Academy. With a calm demeanor, Lathlan continues. “The law is very clear about the fate of those who murder their lords. Our laws are what give us order and keep us safe; without law, we would have chaos. To allow even a single exception to these laws is to invite many more, negating the entirety of their purpose. Murder is murder, regardless of who was killed. To allow this man to get away with murdering his lord, who he might have found oppressive, is to say that it is acceptable to kill those you dislike; surely you do not wish to tell the people that? Why, if we were to allow such behavior, no one would be left alive.” He pauses and, as an afterthought, turns to Seena and says, with a bow, “Save for perhaps church officials such as yourself.” 'Tis all I can do to keep from spitting at such a patronizing man.
“I shall have none of your straw men today, Keeyan!” I flinch once more as Gene pounds his fist on the desk again. “Farthing was responsible for more deaths than there are people filling this room, and everyone knows it! He starved the servants in his fields to death, and ate enough at each meal to feed at least two families! He spent money that should have been spent housing the poor people he was responsible for lining his codpiece with gold and buying every whore within--”
“Gene Terrick, we are in the gaze of Eua!” Seena shouts suddenly, her voice finding sudden strength. “You shall keep your tongue in check! Such disrespectful speech has no place in my courtroom!”
This gets his attention, and he backs down. “My apologies, milady; though I speak nothing but the truth, I allowed anger to spur me too far...” I think to myself, bitterly, that he is far from the only one spurred by anger. The vague figures of the peasants that I can still hear shouting “free our savior” outside appear in my mind's eye for a few moments.
“Nothing but sentimental rubbish!” Lathlan stands and looks to Gene. “None of your claims can be proven. Why, were the situation so dire, the law would have surely come down upon Lord Farthing's head; is that not the duty of the knights?”
“The knights can only be summoned against a Duke when he is to be taken to trial, and had they received the order I have little doubt they would have gladly carried out this duty. But the order was never given, all because Farthing bribed those responsible for giving it!” I watched as Gene pulled a sheaf of parchment from a small satchel at his hip. “And here is proof! Provided voluntarily by Farthing's accountant, records of his spending for the last three years.” What? But Farthing had all of his documents burned. Had the accountant been making copies secretly? My questions are left unspoken and unanswered as Gene goes on. “Between the obscene amount spent on, and I quote, 'golden dinnerware, meals fit for the king, and pleasurable company,' are the names of several kingdom officials, responsible for keeping making sure servants are treated humanely. I would note, with no small degree of interest, that one Duran Caid is listed here most often—he is the man in charge of deploying the knights against dukes who break the laws, is he not? I also notice that Mr. Keeyan's name appears several--”
“Milady, I must object!” Lathlan's expression had turned suddenly frightened. I'd seen animals caught in hunter's traps with the same expression, and I must admit, it fits the man. “Neither I nor Farthing are on trial here; Mr. Terrick is trying to shift the focus of these proceedings away from the matter at hand!”
With a contemplative expression, Seena looks to Gene. Finally, she says, “Mr. Terrick, Mr. Keeyan is correct; this trial must focus on the murder of Lord Farthing, not his wrongdoing in life.” As Gene opens his mouth to speak, she holds up her hand and continues, “However, after this trial is over, I will personally examine these documents, and if I find evidence of wrongdoing, I will arrange for the guilty parties to be brought to justice myself.” I smile at this, the first time I had smiled in a long time. Now the people who had allowed this to happen and benifited from the death of Farthing's servants would be caught. I watch with a kind of sadistic glee I wouldn't have thought myself possible before this as the color drains from Lathlan's face; he knows he is finished.
“I think I have nearly heard enough.” Seena leans back in her chair and places her right hand on her forehead. “Unless either of you have more evidence to present, I want you to move on to closing statements. I will render my judgment afterwards. We will start with you, Mr. Keeyan.”
All eyes in the room, including my own, turn to him. The pompous bastard still hasn't regained his composure, still wearing the trapped expression. He takes a few breaths, then stands, his voice quivering as much as his legs as he begins, “M-milady, while 'tis perhaps true that Farthing was not a well liked man, or a good man, my earlier point still stands. The law says that the murder of a Duke is to be punished first by excommunication, and then by hanging, sending the guilty to meet their fate in the icy Abyss. We are here to see that the law is served. If there can be exceptions to the law based on the circumstances, than there may as well be no law for all the good it would do. He has admitted to the crime, and must now face the wrath of the law. There is nothing more to be said.” His monologue done, he sits in his chair. I can see him fidget nervously as Gene stands.
“Most of what Mr. Keeyan just said is true, milady. The law does indeed say that the murder of a Duke is to be punished by excommunication followed by execution. He is also correct in stating that the accused has admitted to the murder. However, where he strays is by saying that we are here to serve the law. This is simply not the case. No, we are here to serve justice. Before you sentence this man, I beg you to ask yourself whether this is just. 'Tis the law, yes, but is it justice? Anyone, from the simplest child to the master philosophers, and even Saint Eua herself would say the same thing. It is NOT justice!”
A stirring speech, I think. 'Tis a shame that Seena had already made her decision, even before Lathlan started to speak. When a person has settled on a very difficult decision like she has, if you watch close enough, you can always tell. I saw that a few minutes ago, and I can see now that the speeches changed nothing. Gene settles back into his chair, beaming at the effect his speech had on the observers, now all whispering to one another furiously.
A full minute passes as Seena feigns deliberation, and at last she signals to the bailiff, who calls for silence. “I have reached a decision.” She looks down to me and, with a sad tone, says, “Dorin Smithson, I find you guilty of the murder of Duke Saberlin Farthing. You will hang at dawn.” It doesn't surprise me, though judging by the outcry from the observers it did many. I see Lathlan grinning, and looking to my right, I see Gene slumped in his seat, looking as though he may burst into tears.
Suddenly, there is a loud sound from outside, and for the first time I notice that the chanting outside had ceased—but when? Then I hear one voice, words muffled by the thick doors. The voice seemed to be shouting an order.
And then, a loud impact on the door, so fierce that it cracks several of the planks, sending splinters everywhere. Before I have time to think, the guards around the door fling themselves against the besieged door, and one shouts, “Get Mother Artly out of here! Now!” The observers on the bleachers begin panicing as another impact on the door produces more splinters. The guards braced against it grunt as one as they dampen the blow, but it's plain to see that they cannot hold it—if nothing else, the old hinges will give out first.
Panic grips the room at the third crash. I turn around to see that Seena has already been escorted out. The people on the bleachers run all at once for the back of the courthouse, where one would presumably find a back exit. I can see Gene shouting and waving at the panicing spectators, futile trying to calm them. Lathlan has vanished; presumably joining the mass of fleeing people. And all the while, I try to understand what's happening.
Finally, one of the guards grabs my shoulder. “The door'll not hold long; stand clear if you wish to remain whole!” He pushes me away, and slowly I stagger away from the podium, which sat so close to the door. I couldn't get far, however, hobbled by the ball chained to my leg.
One more crash, this time followed by the lock hitting the floor. I heard a voice outside yell, “'Tis open! For our savior!” All of the people outside echoes that cry and began forcing the door to open wider. The group of people who had been carrying the ram—crudely built from a recently felled tree—places their burdens on the ground and drew their weapons. The peasants all carried implements of labor converted to for war; axes, pitchforks, sickles, scythes, picks, threshing flails, all wielded against the guards with the halberds. A few people had fashioned clubs from table legs, and a few people carried knives. Metal clashed with metal as the two forces met; the guards better equipped and better trained, but the peasants emboldened by their cause and overwhelming in number.
As battle was joined, all I could do was shout, begging them to stop this worthless rebellion. However, my pleas went unheard over the din of fighting...
And before you point it out, yes. I'm using names I've used in RPs. I'm not particularly good at coming up with names and I reuse the ones I like; sue me.
But is it Justice? (Revision)
As the guards with the halberds lead me up the path to the courthouse, people lining the streets shout words of support to me. A few even throw rotten fruit or rocks at the guards with the halberds, focusing on the one carrying the chain to my manacles. Still, these men are all well disciplined and hardly flinch as the hurled projectiles glance off their armor, each stone producing a sharp ring as it bounces away from the steel. They hide it well, but I can see the fear in their eyes; fear that one of the peasants would come to the street with a crossbow or some other such implement of death that could pierce their breastplates, staining their green tabards with their blood, all to free their “savior.” But the peasants bring no implements of death. They all walk with me and the guards with the halberds the whole twenty minutes it takes to traverse the cobblestone path between the jailhouse and the courthouse. All the while, the commonfolk shout at me and the guards. They call me their hero, their liberator, their savior. In truth, I am nothing but a murderer.
The courthouse looms above us, its massive wooden doors creaking open on hinges in dire need of oil. They open slowly, and the guards with the halberds form a semi-circle around the entrance, standing at attention, keeping the throngs of observers at bay with their steely gazes, their weapons pointed skyward. This isn't enough to keep the people at the front back; in the end, the guards level their halberds, blades dangerously close to the people. This is enough to get them to retreat. Relieved, I think about the bitter irony of people dying to save a murderer like me.
Resigned to my fate, I walk into the courthouse. Only now did the guard who carried my ball put it down, taking gaping breaths as his muscles release the burden. Normally, a prisoner is made to carry his own ball; the lawmakers say something about it representing their shame. That a man was provided to carry my burden said many things, but most importantly was this; there is someone important who thinks I have nothing to be ashamed of. I thank him softly, and he simply nods in response, still struggling to catch his breath as I wonder who sent him.
Carrying the ball to the small podium that I'm told to stand at isn't so difficult, since it's only a few yards from the door. As I drop the iron weight to my side, I'm struck by how huge the room is; the unpainted brick walls seem to be miles away, and the light of the torches falls far short of illuminating the ceiling. The massive number of people sitting on the wooden bleachers whisper and mumble, the sound of their voices amplified by the room's echo to almost deafening levels. More guards with halberds stand between the assembled observers, and the ones who escorted me from the jailhouse stand before the huge wooden doors as they creak closed, all of them looking nearly identical with their green tabards and the open-faced helmets.
Suddenly, a clear tenor voice sounds over all the others, causing me to flinch. “The court will now have silence!” shouts the bailiff, and suddenly the only sound in the room is the faint echo of his order. “Thus begins the trial of Dorin Smithson for the murder of Duke Saberlin Farthing!” For a moment, I'm taken aback—his first name was Saberlin? I'd never heard that before.
“Representing the accused today is Gene Terrick, and representing the Farthing estate is Lathlan Keeyan! The mediator and decision maker for this trial is the esteemed Mother Seena Artly! As always, Saint Eua's eyes are upon us; may she see justice served on this day!”
“Thank you, baliff. You may take your seat,” says the elderly woman sitting at the mediator's desk, with a weak voice that barely carries throughout the room. In less dire circumstances, she might have seemed a motherly figure; her gray hair falls over her purple robes, and her wrinkled face looks down upon me with weary blue eyes. “Keeyan, please begin with a description of the crime.”
I look to my left as a thin, middle-aged man with black hair and a well-trimmed beard stands. “Yes, milady. Three nights ago, Lord Farthing was found in his dining room, dead. The wine he had been drinking had spilled on the floor around him, and was found to have been poisoned. Smithson, Lord Farthing's serving man that night, was questioned not two hour afterwards in his home, and admitted to the crime.”
As he sits, Seena's gaze falls upon me one more, and she nods gravely. “You admit freely to this, Mr. Smithson?”
“Y... yes, milady.” My voice is cracked and dry, and I realize that this is the first time I have spoken in at least a day.
“How was it done?”
I hesitate for a few moments, the details of that day flooding my mind. Slowly, I begin to recount Farthing's last moments.
“More wine!”
I rush forward with another golden goblet to Farthing's seat. The smell of the roasted water fowl he dines upon only reminds me of how little I had eaten myself lately. As I reach his seat, I hear the small door to the dining hall open. In one fluid motion, I place Farthing's next cup—his third for this meal alone—and pick up the one that had been emptied, the cup's golden surface reflecting the gleaming light of the chandelier above.
Through the doors, a guard enters. Farthing barely slows his feasting as the man approaches, sending a small glance towards the newcomer, annoyance and contempt plain in his beady eyes. The guard approaches briskly and kneels before Farthing, bowing his head as he speaks.
“My lord, five more workers have died in your silver mines, slain by beasts in the night.”
Farthing wipes a bit of wine that had been caught in his small beard with the neck of his silk robe as he turns to speak to the guard. “So find five more people who've lagged in payment of my respects and put them to work. Raise taxes if you need to.” He pauses a moment to belch before adding, “Raise them even if you don't need to, actually.”
This distraction is all I need. Moving away from the table, I take the small vial of mandrake poison out of my front pocket and dump the powder into the cup as I move back to the serving table across the room. It swirls in the cup as I pour yet more wine—I'd learned long ago that if I didn't get the his next drink to him quickly, I would be beaten afterwards. A few moments and the powder is thoroughly mixed with the drink, completely invisible to the eye.
As I add the poison, I can hear the guard behind me. “But sir, won't we bring the wrath of the knights upon us if we keep this up? I'm sure if sir Caid were to hear of this--”
“Caid? Why, goodsir Caid dined with me just last eve! I'm sure as long as the silver is pure and plentiful, he'll be able to overlook some minor details.” He chuckles as he adds, “Peasants die all the time, no?”
“I-- As you say, milord...” I turn just in time to see guard bow and leave the room without a word. He'd be sent to those mines himself if he disobeyed his lord, and I'd heard stories of the place that would make the Abyss seem inviting in comparison.
Returning to his meal, Farthing drains the contents of his goblet in one swallow, slamming the cup to the heavy wooden table when he finishes. Through more painful experience, I had come to know this as an order for another glass. Once more, I swiftly return, the tainted wine in hand. Upon arriving, I place the glass on the table without spilling a drop in spite of my shaking hands.
Farthing doesn't even give me time to scoop up his other goblet as he reaches for the freshly poured serving. I hastily return to my place; already I tell he knows something is wrong. I can hear him beginning to choke behind me, and I freeze. He begins making one of the most pathetic sounds I had ever heard, too soft to reach anyones ears but my own. It's almost like the crying of a child. I hear his heavy chair scrape against the floor as he tries to stand, but from the soft thud I hear next, I guess that his legs failed him. Through all of this, I haven't the will to turn and look at the man I had killed. After that, all I remember was running away and feeling the enormity of what I had just done sink in...
“And you freely admit to this?” Seena looks down upon me intensely.
“Yes.”
“I see... Mr. Keeyan, have you anything more to ask?”
Lathlan nods and says, “I would like to know more of the guard who distracted lord Farthing was; he is a potential accomplice in the murder.”
Suddenly, a truly innocent man's life was at stake, and I shout, “No!” After an awkward pause to recompose myself, I add, “That man had nothing to do with my plot! He was simply a convenience. I am the only one guilty of lord Farthing's murder. I worked completely alone.” And it's true. They say the mediators are blessed by Saint Eua with the ability to see truths and lies as they leave a guilty person's mouth, and I silently pray that this is true, lest the unfortunate guard who entered that night be brought down with me.
To my relief, she nods. “Eua's sight reveals all to me; the accused speaks the truth. He has concealed nothing from the Lady Justice, and admitted his guilt. The trial is over, and we will now proceed to sentencing.”
For the first time, I watch a man to my right stand. He is of a fairly pudgy build, with short blond hair and a pair of spectacles resting on his broad nose. His anger clearly visible on his face, Gene says, “Milady, I must respectfully object! All has not yet been said!”
I close my eyes as the observers all begin muttering, and flinch once more as the bailiff stands and demands silence. Seena gives a pained sigh and asks, “He has admitted to murder. The law says that the murder of a Duke entails excommunication followed by hanging. What more is there to reveal?”
“This man did murder, yes; that much is obvious.” He slams his fist on his desk and shouts, “However, what he did was for the good of all! Farthing was a tyrant who was unworthy of the gifts granted to him by his family, and the world is far better off without him! We should be knighting this man,” he says, gesturing grandly at me. “Not hanging him!”
“Nonsense!” Lathlan now stands, his voice even, a smirk on his face. Already, I feel sorry for Gene; I know Lathlan to be an experienced lawyer, and Gene, though I had heard he was a promising student, is fresh out of Helldrith Academy. With a calm demeanor, Lathlan continues. “The law is very clear about the fate of those who murder their lords. Our laws are what give us order and keep us safe; without law, we would have chaos. To allow even a single exception to these laws is to invite many more, negating the entirety of their purpose. Murder is murder, regardless of who was killed. To allow this man to get away with murdering his lord, who he might have found oppressive, is to say that it is acceptable to kill those you dislike; surely you do not wish to tell the people that? Why, if we were to allow such behavior, no one would be left alive.” He pauses and, as an afterthought, turns to Seena and says, with a bow, “Save for perhaps church officials such as yourself.” 'Tis all I can do to keep from spitting at such a patronizing man.
“I shall have none of your straw men today, Keeyan!” I flinch once more as Gene pounds his fist on the desk again. “Farthing was responsible for more deaths than there are people filling this room, and everyone knows it! He starved the servants in his fields to death, and ate enough at each meal to feed at least two families! He spent money that should have been spent housing the poor people he was responsible for lining his codpiece with gold and buying every whore within--”
“Gene Terrick, we are in the gaze of Eua!” Seena shouts suddenly, her voice finding sudden strength. “You shall keep your tongue in check! Such disrespectful speech has no place in my courtroom!”
This gets his attention, and he backs down. “My apologies, milady; though I speak nothing but the truth, I allowed anger to spur me too far...” I think to myself, bitterly, that he is far from the only one spurred by anger. The vague figures of the peasants that I can still hear shouting “free our savior” outside appear in my mind's eye for a few moments.
“Nothing but sentimental rubbish!” Lathlan stands and looks to Gene. “None of your claims can be proven. Why, were the situation so dire, the law would have surely come down upon Lord Farthing's head; is that not the duty of the knights?”
“The knights can only be summoned against a Duke when he is to be taken to trial, and had they received the order I have little doubt they would have gladly carried out this duty. But the order was never given, all because Farthing bribed those responsible for giving it!” I watched as Gene pulled a sheaf of parchment from a small satchel at his hip. “And here is proof! Provided voluntarily by Farthing's accountant, records of his spending for the last three years.” What? But Farthing had all of his documents burned. Had the accountant been making copies secretly? My questions are left unspoken and unanswered as Gene goes on. “Between the obscene amount spent on, and I quote, 'golden dinnerware, meals fit for the king, and pleasurable company,' are the names of several kingdom officials, responsible for keeping making sure servants are treated humanely. I would note, with no small degree of interest, that one Duran Caid is listed here most often—he is the man in charge of deploying the knights against dukes who break the laws, is he not? I also notice that Mr. Keeyan's name appears several--”
“Milady, I must object!” Lathlan's expression had turned suddenly frightened. I'd seen animals caught in hunter's traps with the same expression, and I must admit, it fits the man. “Neither I nor Farthing are on trial here; Mr. Terrick is trying to shift the focus of these proceedings away from the matter at hand!”
With a contemplative expression, Seena looks to Gene. Finally, she says, “Mr. Terrick, Mr. Keeyan is correct; this trial must focus on the murder of Lord Farthing, not his wrongdoing in life.” As Gene opens his mouth to speak, she holds up her hand and continues, “However, after this trial is over, I will personally examine these documents, and if I find evidence of wrongdoing, I will arrange for the guilty parties to be brought to justice myself.” I smile at this, the first time I had smiled in a long time. Now the people who had allowed this to happen and benifited from the death of Farthing's servants would be caught. I watch with a kind of sadistic glee I wouldn't have thought myself possible before this as the color drains from Lathlan's face; he knows he is finished.
“I think I have nearly heard enough.” Seena leans back in her chair and places her right hand on her forehead. “Unless either of you have more evidence to present, I want you to move on to closing statements. I will render my judgment afterwards. We will start with you, Mr. Keeyan.”
All eyes in the room, including my own, turn to him. The pompous bastard still hasn't regained his composure, still wearing the trapped expression. He takes a few breaths, then stands, his voice quivering as much as his legs as he begins, “M-milady, while 'tis perhaps true that Farthing was not a well liked man, or a good man, my earlier point still stands. The law says that the murder of a Duke is to be punished first by excommunication, and then by hanging, sending the guilty to meet their fate in the icy Abyss. We are here to see that the law is served. If there can be exceptions to the law based on the circumstances, than there may as well be no law for all the good it would do. He has admitted to the crime, and must now face the wrath of the law. There is nothing more to be said.” His monologue done, he sits in his chair. I can see him fidget nervously as Gene stands.
“Most of what Mr. Keeyan just said is true, milady. The law does indeed say that the murder of a Duke is to be punished by excommunication followed by execution. He is also correct in stating that the accused has admitted to the murder. However, where he strays is by saying that we are here to serve the law. This is simply not the case. No, we are here to serve justice. Before you sentence this man, I beg you to ask yourself whether this is just. 'Tis the law, yes, but is it justice? Anyone, from the simplest child to the master philosophers, and even Saint Eua herself would say the same thing. It is NOT justice!”
A stirring speech, I think. 'Tis a shame that Seena had already made her decision, even before Lathlan started to speak. When a person has settled on a very difficult decision like she has, if you watch close enough, you can always tell. I saw that a few minutes ago, and I can see now that the speeches changed nothing. Gene settles back into his chair, beaming at the effect his speech had on the observers, now all whispering to one another furiously.
A full minute passes as Seena feigns deliberation, and at last she signals to the bailiff, who calls for silence. “I have reached a decision.” She looks down to me and, with a sad tone, says, “Dorin Smithson, I find you guilty of the murder of Duke Saberlin Farthing. You will hang at dawn.” It doesn't surprise me, though judging by the outcry from the observers it did many. I see Lathlan grinning, and looking to my right, I see Gene slumped in his seat, looking as though he may burst into tears.
Suddenly, there is a loud sound from outside, and for the first time I notice that the chanting outside had ceased—but when? Then I hear one voice, words muffled by the thick doors. The voice seemed to be shouting an order.
And then, a loud impact on the door, so fierce that it cracks several of the planks, sending splinters everywhere. Before I have time to think, the guards around the door fling themselves against the besieged door, and one shouts, “Get Mother Artly out of here! Now!” The observers on the bleachers begin panicing as another impact on the door produces more splinters. The guards braced against it grunt as one as they dampen the blow, but it's plain to see that they cannot hold it—if nothing else, the old hinges will give out first.
Panic grips the room at the third crash. I turn around to see that Seena has already been escorted out. The people on the bleachers run all at once for the back of the courthouse, where one would presumably find a back exit. I can see Gene shouting and waving at the panicing spectators, futile trying to calm them. Lathlan has vanished; presumably joining the mass of fleeing people. And all the while, I try to understand what's happening.
Finally, one of the guards grabs my shoulder. “The door'll not hold long; stand clear if you wish to remain whole!” He pushes me away, and slowly I stagger away from the podium, which sat so close to the door. I couldn't get far, however, hobbled by the ball chained to my leg.
One more crash, this time followed by the lock hitting the floor. I heard a voice outside yell, “'Tis open! For our savior!” All of the people outside echoes that cry and began forcing the door to open wider. The group of people who had been carrying the ram—crudely built from a recently felled tree—places their burdens on the ground and drew their weapons. The peasants all carried implements of labor converted to for war; axes, pitchforks, sickles, scythes, picks, threshing flails, all wielded against the guards with the halberds. A few people had fashioned clubs from table legs, and a few people carried knives. Metal clashed with metal as the two forces met; the guards better equipped and better trained, but the peasants emboldened by their cause and overwhelming in number.
As battle was joined, all I could do was shout, begging them to stop this worthless rebellion. However, my pleas went unheard over the din of fighting...
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Being sick on one's birthday sucks.
Good thing hardly anyone realized anyway, and good thing the closest thing I did to a party was Saturday with my parents.
I've been getting sick a lot lately. I attribute it to stress, what with all the shit due Tursday and Friday.
Anyway, yeah. I'm still alive. I feel like shit. I still need to program. I'd post more but there hasn't been a whole lot going on to post about, so I'll just skip it and start on the programming I need to do.
I've been getting sick a lot lately. I attribute it to stress, what with all the shit due Tursday and Friday.
Anyway, yeah. I'm still alive. I feel like shit. I still need to program. I'd post more but there hasn't been a whole lot going on to post about, so I'll just skip it and start on the programming I need to do.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I am Paradox. Listen to me bitch.
Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch.
Blarg. I've been getting sick a lot lately. I've got some kind of minor headcold that's just minor enough that I can't really skip classes over it without feeling like a slug, yet just major enough that I'm pretty much worthless as far as getting work done.
I'm not sure if I have a fever, and I guess I'm never going to know. See, they put the nurse's office on the other side of campus, so if you're sick, you have to walk approximately one mile to see the nurse. I think this was a not-so-subtle way of saying "Just don't get sick, and if you do, just stay in bed and lose credit in your classes because you're weak and don't deserve to go here and we hate you." At the very least, it was very, very poor planning. I don't have the energy to walk over there. I'm probably just going to miss class tomorrow; if I call my professors and let them know ahead of time, they'll probably be cool with it. Maybe I could even get the Discrete test pushed back to Monday instead of Friday if I'm still feeling this shitty.
Speaking of abnormal behaviors (shut up, I totally was), I've been getting a lot of sleep lately. Never at night, though; as I type this sentence, the clock ticks on to 2:28 AM, and I've been up since 8:00 PM. I've been averaging about nine hours of sleep a day (rarely continuous, but such is life). Yet in spite of getting more sleep than I've gotten since summer, I'm still always sleepy. I've been experiencing life through this lethargic haze that makes working really, really difficult.
My browser for Programming Practicum is actually shaping up to be pretty cool. It's basically two internet windows glued together; one can be on one page, and the other can be on another. Useful for making, say, character sheets while using the API as a reference.
Ah, character sheets... That brings me to a wonderful segue to Under Construction. Basically it's dieing, and it's happening exactly as I figured it would when I converted it. People have to leave for real-life matters, and meanwhile no one is coming in. Crys leaves because of college, Brian leaves because of life (and doesn't tell me; I should thank Chase for letting me know that he'd quit sometime). Everyone who's still there is posting slower, and that includes me too. I've seen this several times before; this is the website's death cries; unless I get a transfusion of new members, it will slowly bleed out.
My work drive is non-existant, my head's pounding, I'm behind in AI and Practicum, I feel like I need sleep even when I clearly don't, my friends are in the middle of an argument that should have ended two months ago, and to top it all off I'm using my blog as a bitch space (something I told myself I would NEVER do), but hey, there is some good news! I beat Final Fantasy Tactics for the first time last week! And I'm on the final dungeon in Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga II!
*Headdesk* So I'mma post this now before I read it over again and decide it's too angsty to post. With any luck, I'll come to regret it later. *Post*
Blarg. I've been getting sick a lot lately. I've got some kind of minor headcold that's just minor enough that I can't really skip classes over it without feeling like a slug, yet just major enough that I'm pretty much worthless as far as getting work done.
I'm not sure if I have a fever, and I guess I'm never going to know. See, they put the nurse's office on the other side of campus, so if you're sick, you have to walk approximately one mile to see the nurse. I think this was a not-so-subtle way of saying "Just don't get sick, and if you do, just stay in bed and lose credit in your classes because you're weak and don't deserve to go here and we hate you." At the very least, it was very, very poor planning. I don't have the energy to walk over there. I'm probably just going to miss class tomorrow; if I call my professors and let them know ahead of time, they'll probably be cool with it. Maybe I could even get the Discrete test pushed back to Monday instead of Friday if I'm still feeling this shitty.
Speaking of abnormal behaviors (shut up, I totally was), I've been getting a lot of sleep lately. Never at night, though; as I type this sentence, the clock ticks on to 2:28 AM, and I've been up since 8:00 PM. I've been averaging about nine hours of sleep a day (rarely continuous, but such is life). Yet in spite of getting more sleep than I've gotten since summer, I'm still always sleepy. I've been experiencing life through this lethargic haze that makes working really, really difficult.
My browser for Programming Practicum is actually shaping up to be pretty cool. It's basically two internet windows glued together; one can be on one page, and the other can be on another. Useful for making, say, character sheets while using the API as a reference.
Ah, character sheets... That brings me to a wonderful segue to Under Construction. Basically it's dieing, and it's happening exactly as I figured it would when I converted it. People have to leave for real-life matters, and meanwhile no one is coming in. Crys leaves because of college, Brian leaves because of life (and doesn't tell me; I should thank Chase for letting me know that he'd quit sometime). Everyone who's still there is posting slower, and that includes me too. I've seen this several times before; this is the website's death cries; unless I get a transfusion of new members, it will slowly bleed out.
My work drive is non-existant, my head's pounding, I'm behind in AI and Practicum, I feel like I need sleep even when I clearly don't, my friends are in the middle of an argument that should have ended two months ago, and to top it all off I'm using my blog as a bitch space (something I told myself I would NEVER do), but hey, there is some good news! I beat Final Fantasy Tactics for the first time last week! And I'm on the final dungeon in Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga II!
*Headdesk* So I'mma post this now before I read it over again and decide it's too angsty to post. With any luck, I'll come to regret it later. *Post*
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
"Your Mom" jokes aside, this is about right...
Once again, xkcd is awesome. That's about how my sleep works right now anyway, though I have to stay up a bit later than 2:00 on Mondays to TA.
Monday, September 3, 2007
The long weekend from hell (PROTIP: MASSIVE QUANTITIES OF BITCHING FOLLOWS)
So, hope you guys had a good weekend. Me? Mine sucked. Really hardcore.
First off, keep in mind through all of this that I'm sick as hell. I saw a doctor about it today, and while I take his opinion with a grain of salt due to the involved conversation he had during the examination about the duck hunting trip that afternoon, he diagnosed me with a sinus infection. I have nothing against duck-hunters, but I do have something against people discussing personal matters on their cellphone when they should be doing their goddamned job.
Anyway, yeah. Symptoms include: super-headaches that NEVER. GO. AWAY., earaches, stuffy/runny nose, sneezing, hurting eyes, hurting joints, hurting fucking everything, lack of energy, chills, and loss of appetite. Surprisingly, though, no fever. I never have fevers, though.
Basically, through Saturday and Sunday, I was completely worthless. Tylenol/other painkillers did basically nothing, and staying warm was basically impossible. I'm a fat man, and thus have insulation against the cold. When I can't get warm, it's a big deal, and either everyone else around me has frostbite, or I'm hella sick.
Anyway, so, my laptop came in about Wednesday, and I was introduced to it Friday when I got home. Naturally, it came packaged with Vista. I'm pretty sure I'm with the majority when I say that I loathe Vista and much prefer XP. The first thing I did was make the restore disks, since HP wants everyone to use their built-in, likely worthless restore-from-harddrive function instead of a disk. It took 11 CDs.
After that was done, I tried to installed XP Pro. However, Vista has this thing where it protects itself from being overwritten once the OS is booted up. I don't know if this is specific to XP or just in general, but to get XP installed I had to boot from the CD. Which is no big deal, of course, except for the intimidating blue-screen-with-white-text that it involves. The install went smoothly, but I forgot the password for our internet service, so I couldn't really do anything. Had to download my anti-virus, then Firefox, then lots of other stuff. So I shut it down and went looking for the password. Eventually, thanks to Mom's excellent knowledge of her own filing system which confuses the hell out of me, she found it.
When I went to enter that in, the computer automatically booted up from the CD, rather than asking me like it should. Immediately, this sends waves of dread over me. Taking the disk out, I find that it just restarts over and over again and never loads the OS up. Shit.
So, out of the hope that maybe it was just set to boot from CD to the default somehow, I head into the BIOS to change the boot order so that it checks the harddrive first. Mom sees me doing this, with the intimidating BSOD layout and all. When I announce that the computer apparently can no longer find its harddrive, she decides that it's because of something I did in the BIOS or something. Note that she doesn't even know what the BIOS is or how to get to it.
Anyway, she's riding me to find some solution to this. I'm pretty convinced it's a hardware issue that came from the factory; an important connection isn't being made somewhere. However, that's not how she sees it.
My experience with laptops is pretty consistently negative, and I don't want one anymore. Fuck this shit; desktops are so much more stable that I'll just stick with them. However, we can't return the thing because it's been altered from the original settings. No problem; just boot from the restore CDs and put Vista back on. Except for the error that popped out of the FIRST. FUCKING. DISK.
Now, I'm pretty sure we can still exchange it. This is a hardware fuck-up, and even if it actually IS something that's my fault, we have a replacement policy that SHOULD cover this. But I've still gotta try to restore things to normal. So, on top of being sick, I've got Mom mad at me for something that I couldn't have possibly done.
Now, I'm probably making Mom look like some kind of psycho bitch who has no mercy for her sick son. This is most certainly not the case; she's been real good about taking care of me and all that. She just CANNOT accept that she knows next to nothing about computers and electronics. This is far from the first situation like this. A few times in the past she's gotten results due to dumb luck, however, so she's convinced she knows something when she doesn't. I don't claim to be an advanced computer user myself; I know software pretty well, but hardware escapes me for now. I can still firmly say that I know more about computers than her. Far more, really.
Plus, there's an AI assignment due tomorrow that I'm not only not done with, but am completely stuck on. Programmers know what I'm talking about here; your code is doing things and you can't see why. There is always an explanation, but you can't find it without some guidance. Had I not been bed-ridden most of the weekend, I could have consulted with my professor by now and hopefully figured things out. Were I not ever-so-slightly medicine-addled at the moment, I might be able to figure this out myself. However, for now, I'm sitting on results that I have no idea how to debug, and no professor to talk to, and it's due tomorrow. It was assigned two weeks ago, so I doubt I'll recieve any mercy regarding late penalties.
What a wonderful way to start the school-year. If it's gonna keep going like this, someone shoot me now.
First off, keep in mind through all of this that I'm sick as hell. I saw a doctor about it today, and while I take his opinion with a grain of salt due to the involved conversation he had during the examination about the duck hunting trip that afternoon, he diagnosed me with a sinus infection. I have nothing against duck-hunters, but I do have something against people discussing personal matters on their cellphone when they should be doing their goddamned job.
Anyway, yeah. Symptoms include: super-headaches that NEVER. GO. AWAY., earaches, stuffy/runny nose, sneezing, hurting eyes, hurting joints, hurting fucking everything, lack of energy, chills, and loss of appetite. Surprisingly, though, no fever. I never have fevers, though.
Basically, through Saturday and Sunday, I was completely worthless. Tylenol/other painkillers did basically nothing, and staying warm was basically impossible. I'm a fat man, and thus have insulation against the cold. When I can't get warm, it's a big deal, and either everyone else around me has frostbite, or I'm hella sick.
Anyway, so, my laptop came in about Wednesday, and I was introduced to it Friday when I got home. Naturally, it came packaged with Vista. I'm pretty sure I'm with the majority when I say that I loathe Vista and much prefer XP. The first thing I did was make the restore disks, since HP wants everyone to use their built-in, likely worthless restore-from-harddrive function instead of a disk. It took 11 CDs.
After that was done, I tried to installed XP Pro. However, Vista has this thing where it protects itself from being overwritten once the OS is booted up. I don't know if this is specific to XP or just in general, but to get XP installed I had to boot from the CD. Which is no big deal, of course, except for the intimidating blue-screen-with-white-text that it involves. The install went smoothly, but I forgot the password for our internet service, so I couldn't really do anything. Had to download my anti-virus, then Firefox, then lots of other stuff. So I shut it down and went looking for the password. Eventually, thanks to Mom's excellent knowledge of her own filing system which confuses the hell out of me, she found it.
When I went to enter that in, the computer automatically booted up from the CD, rather than asking me like it should. Immediately, this sends waves of dread over me. Taking the disk out, I find that it just restarts over and over again and never loads the OS up. Shit.
So, out of the hope that maybe it was just set to boot from CD to the default somehow, I head into the BIOS to change the boot order so that it checks the harddrive first. Mom sees me doing this, with the intimidating BSOD layout and all. When I announce that the computer apparently can no longer find its harddrive, she decides that it's because of something I did in the BIOS or something. Note that she doesn't even know what the BIOS is or how to get to it.
Anyway, she's riding me to find some solution to this. I'm pretty convinced it's a hardware issue that came from the factory; an important connection isn't being made somewhere. However, that's not how she sees it.
My experience with laptops is pretty consistently negative, and I don't want one anymore. Fuck this shit; desktops are so much more stable that I'll just stick with them. However, we can't return the thing because it's been altered from the original settings. No problem; just boot from the restore CDs and put Vista back on. Except for the error that popped out of the FIRST. FUCKING. DISK.
Now, I'm pretty sure we can still exchange it. This is a hardware fuck-up, and even if it actually IS something that's my fault, we have a replacement policy that SHOULD cover this. But I've still gotta try to restore things to normal. So, on top of being sick, I've got Mom mad at me for something that I couldn't have possibly done.
Now, I'm probably making Mom look like some kind of psycho bitch who has no mercy for her sick son. This is most certainly not the case; she's been real good about taking care of me and all that. She just CANNOT accept that she knows next to nothing about computers and electronics. This is far from the first situation like this. A few times in the past she's gotten results due to dumb luck, however, so she's convinced she knows something when she doesn't. I don't claim to be an advanced computer user myself; I know software pretty well, but hardware escapes me for now. I can still firmly say that I know more about computers than her. Far more, really.
Plus, there's an AI assignment due tomorrow that I'm not only not done with, but am completely stuck on. Programmers know what I'm talking about here; your code is doing things and you can't see why. There is always an explanation, but you can't find it without some guidance. Had I not been bed-ridden most of the weekend, I could have consulted with my professor by now and hopefully figured things out. Were I not ever-so-slightly medicine-addled at the moment, I might be able to figure this out myself. However, for now, I'm sitting on results that I have no idea how to debug, and no professor to talk to, and it's due tomorrow. It was assigned two weeks ago, so I doubt I'll recieve any mercy regarding late penalties.
What a wonderful way to start the school-year. If it's gonna keep going like this, someone shoot me now.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Back in School
So, yeah. Back to college. I'm moved in; this year I've got a single room. It's considerably smaller than what I'm used to, but it's enough. And certainly worth it since I don't have to deal with a roommate. There are, of course, a lot of problems on campus that should have been taken care of during the summer. For example, there is something wrong with the card readers that makes it so that several don't recognize my card. Normally I post from the Linux lab in one of said buildings, but no such luck today. Anyway, other than that, things are going well. Me schedule is as follows:
Discrete Mathematics - Monday/Wednesday/Friday, 8:10 - 9:00. Dreading having to wake up for this one tomorrow, but other than that I foresee this being a rather easy class.
Weight Training - Monday/Wednesday, 12:10-1:00. Getting that physical activity credit out of the way.
Programming Practicum - Monday/Wednesday/Friday, 1:10 - 2:00. This is gonna be tough; the programming class that separates the minors from the majors. However, we learn some really cool shit in this one, so I'm looking forward to it.
ArtificialFreakin' Intelligence - Tuesday/Thursday, 9:45 - 11:00. Hells yeah! A. Fuckin' I.! I foresee this being a really cool class. We'll actually be building robots towards the end of it.
Creative Writing: Fiction - Tuesday/Thursday, 2:45 - 4:00. This counts as my art credit, so getting that out of the way. What I learn here might actually improve me as a GM, but thus far I'm thinking it's meant more for mundane fiction. I do hope the professor doesn't have anything against high fantasy and science fiction. Otherwise this could be a long, annoying experience. The reading list for the class appears to be completely missing those genres.
That’s it for now. Still no word on whether or not I get the Robotics T.A. job; I’ll find that out tomorrow after Practicum. Hopefully my laptop will come in soon and I will therefore have more secure internet access.
Discrete Mathematics - Monday/Wednesday/Friday, 8:10 - 9:00. Dreading having to wake up for this one tomorrow, but other than that I foresee this being a rather easy class.
Weight Training - Monday/Wednesday, 12:10-1:00. Getting that physical activity credit out of the way.
Programming Practicum - Monday/Wednesday/Friday, 1:10 - 2:00. This is gonna be tough; the programming class that separates the minors from the majors. However, we learn some really cool shit in this one, so I'm looking forward to it.
Artificial
Creative Writing: Fiction - Tuesday/Thursday, 2:45 - 4:00. This counts as my art credit, so getting that out of the way. What I learn here might actually improve me as a GM, but thus far I'm thinking it's meant more for mundane fiction. I do hope the professor doesn't have anything against high fantasy and science fiction. Otherwise this could be a long, annoying experience. The reading list for the class appears to be completely missing those genres.
That’s it for now. Still no word on whether or not I get the Robotics T.A. job; I’ll find that out tomorrow after Practicum. Hopefully my laptop will come in soon and I will therefore have more secure internet access.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
So many ways to communicate, but nothing to say...
So, here I am, thinking, "I should make a post in my blog." Naturally, the next thought is, "What should I post about?"
I draw a complete blank. There is nothing going on in my life right now, and on some level I suppose I'm bored out of my mind. Yet at the same time, I know I'm going to look back on the summer and miss it when classes kick in and I'm struggling to meet multiple deadlines that all "happen" to be on the same day.
My average day right now consists of waking up sometime in the middle of the afternoon, engage in inane and essentially worthless discussion with classmates in an unbearably easy literature class with peers who are, for the most part, not worth my time. The professor is a pretty cool dude, but he rarely posts; I guess he prefers to leave the discussions to the students. After that, it's a combination of video games, posting on UC, DnD related writing, or just generally wasting time on TEH INTERNETS. Maybe a DnD game, but lately that's been getting harder to do. Repeat in whatever combination you like until... Probably around 9:00 this morning, and move on through the day until it gets back to a normal schedule.
It depresses me. It depresses me even more that in about a month, I'll be looking back on these idle days and thinking about how good I had it. Though then, I might actually have more human contact to work with--it's quite likely I'll run my current DnD campaign for people at Hendrix. One semi-friend asked (read: almost begged) me to run a game when I described my views on some DnD rules. Hopefully that'll go well.
Meh, I guess I'm just in a general funk right now. Losing that job was a bad deal for me, and now I just don't have a lot to do. And I don't see any way out of this, save waiting for college to restart.
Eh. Seems everyone's just havin' a bad time right now. Such is life, I suppose.
I draw a complete blank. There is nothing going on in my life right now, and on some level I suppose I'm bored out of my mind. Yet at the same time, I know I'm going to look back on the summer and miss it when classes kick in and I'm struggling to meet multiple deadlines that all "happen" to be on the same day.
My average day right now consists of waking up sometime in the middle of the afternoon, engage in inane and essentially worthless discussion with classmates in an unbearably easy literature class with peers who are, for the most part, not worth my time. The professor is a pretty cool dude, but he rarely posts; I guess he prefers to leave the discussions to the students. After that, it's a combination of video games, posting on UC, DnD related writing, or just generally wasting time on TEH INTERNETS. Maybe a DnD game, but lately that's been getting harder to do. Repeat in whatever combination you like until... Probably around 9:00 this morning, and move on through the day until it gets back to a normal schedule.
It depresses me. It depresses me even more that in about a month, I'll be looking back on these idle days and thinking about how good I had it. Though then, I might actually have more human contact to work with--it's quite likely I'll run my current DnD campaign for people at Hendrix. One semi-friend asked (read: almost begged) me to run a game when I described my views on some DnD rules. Hopefully that'll go well.
Meh, I guess I'm just in a general funk right now. Losing that job was a bad deal for me, and now I just don't have a lot to do. And I don't see any way out of this, save waiting for college to restart.
Eh. Seems everyone's just havin' a bad time right now. Such is life, I suppose.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Thursday, July 5, 2007
People always screw things up
I think I can finally point to a very specific reason I am primarily a console gamer instead of a PC gamer.
With console games, other people are optional. When other people get involved in the game, inevitably, SOMEONE is going to fuck things up. Be it the leecher who sits and does nothing while you fight or the asshole GM who refuses to acknowledge other player's opinions or concerns, even berating them in the process.
Thus, with that thought, I shall return to playing Paper Mario. There, at least, if something screws up, it's clearly my fault and there is probably something I can do to fix things. /bitter
With console games, other people are optional. When other people get involved in the game, inevitably, SOMEONE is going to fuck things up. Be it the leecher who sits and does nothing while you fight or the asshole GM who refuses to acknowledge other player's opinions or concerns, even berating them in the process.
Thus, with that thought, I shall return to playing Paper Mario. There, at least, if something screws up, it's clearly my fault and there is probably something I can do to fix things. /bitter
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
The console wars
Here we go. Once again, it's Sony versus Microsoft versus Nintendo. These are the times that console gamers simultaneously live for and dread. The lines are drawn and the pieces are in play, and now we watch as the shit hits the fan. Good times for the people who get behind the winners, and not-so-good for the people behind the losers.
What makes this one even more interesting, though, is that there's another war mixed in with the console wars; the format wars. We've got another beta-max versus VHS going between HD-DVD and Blu-Ray, the former backed by Microsoft and the X-Box, the latter backed by Sony and the PS3. Meanwhile, Nintendo and the Wii are sitting that aspect of this war out.
Yes, I'm aware that everyone who hasn't been under a rock for the last year or so would know all of this. I'm getting to my thoughts on the subject.
Firstly, I'm fully behind Nintendo on this one. It's not there yet, but I have no doubt that the Wii will, at the very least, thrive in this war. I honestly expect it to eventually dominate, once Smash Brothers Brawl and Metroid Prime III come out. Christmas is going to be very sweet to Wii owners. I'm waiting for Nintendo to bust out some cool uses for a connection between a Wii and a DS. Nintendo fucked up by putting support behind connecting the GBA and the Gamecube (though Crystal Chronicals and Four Swords were fun). However, now everything is wireless, so the consumer isn't left with the bad taste of having to buy a cable for each connection, making connecting the DS and the Wii much more viable. I'm worried the big N might be discouraged by the flop of GBA/Gamecube connectivity, but hopefully someone there will realize that they've got a good opportunity to do something with that. Even if they don't, though, they've still got the sheer awesome factor of the Wii and DS separated. Nintendo has paved a path to the top of the heap this time, with the cheapest console as well as the coolest premise. The virtual console was promising, but the prices are higher than they should be; I'm still hoping for a price drop on the older games. Frankly, I'm of the opinion that most, if not all, of the NES games should be free. But even if they don't, I'll just emulate if I'm craving something retro.
Sony, Sony, Sony. What the fuck were you thinking? The PS3 has been botched so badly that it's not even funny anymore; it's just sad. I don't have an HDTV, so what the fuck am I going to do with your Blu-Ray player? My PS2 is still getting a lot of playtime, and Sony's going to keep getting money from my for that platform for a while still, but right now I see absolutely no reason to shell out the $600 Sony is asking for the PS3 right now. At the beginning, it looked like they would just smother me with exclusive titles that no gamer should go without. MGS3, DMC4, FFXIII, and so on. They're losing these titles quickly, however, and without them Sony has nothing there to draw me towards them. Basically, if Sony doesn't throw out a cheaper version of the system (say, one that doesn't include that obscenely expensive and almost useless Blu-Ray player) I see little chance of me ever purchasing one. Maybe, maaaaaaaybe if they can get exclusives, but game developers are realizing that exclusiveness is a bad deal for them and for gamers, so I doubt that will happen. I'll live without games like White Knight Legend until I start seeing used PS3s go up for sale at prices I can conceivable afford or when I get a more steady source of cash going. Blatantly stealing the Wiimote concept did nothing to restore my faith in the company and the brand.
I think a year ago, I would have laughed if you'd told me that I'd be saying this, but I'm actually interested in the 360 right now. There are a few more things that need to happen before I'll be paying for one, but unlike with the PS3, this isn't completely implausible. First, I want to see more RPGs for the 360. Right now, there's not much to choose from in the RPG department, and that's where most of my gaming happens. Basically, for this to happen, the 360 needs to start doing better in Japan, and therefore attract Japanese developers like Squeenix. Everything I've seen suggests Blue Dragon has made some headway in this department—we'll wait and see how that goes over. I played Resistance: Fall of Man over at a friend's house (location of my in-person DnD game, actually) and was enthralled by the game. And then we get Halo 3. I'm not going to buy one any time soon, I think, but I'm certainly entertaining the possibility. We'll see on this one.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
My introduction
So. This is my first post in this blog. I'm going to use it to talk about my alias.
I came up with the name "Proven Paradox" I dunno... five years ago? Something like that. I was talking with a friend of mine about a documentary I'd watched, because I'm a nerd and we were really damn bored. I think it was about the wave/particle duality of light, and all matter. Something about a phenomenon that shouldn't happen according to the laws of physics as we understand them, but obviously does. I don't remember specifics, of course, but you get the idea. It was a paradox, according to the rules as we've written them, and yet it happens. A proven paradox. Both of us stopped for a second after I said that phrase. I then said, "Damn, that would make a cool on-line name." Thus, my handle changed from "Elite" to "Proven Paradox." I've lost touch with a lot of the people who knew me as "Elite," which is something I regret. That's another rant, though. This is about my name.
So, for a while, everything was good. I had a kickin' alias that was apparently truly unique, and that holds to this day. I have never encountered another Proven Paradox.
Then the downsides came up.
The first should have been damn obvious. Proven Paradox. The initials are PP. How did I not see that!? It was right there! What the hell!? My name shortens into a cutesy word for urine!
But, hey, most people just point it out, chuckle, and move on. It gets annoying, but eh. It's still a cool name.
But people keep finding new ways to mangle it into something terrible. I know that Proven Paradox is a mouthful in chatrooms. It's usually shortened to Proven. A few people choose Paradox instead. At one place it was shortened to Para more than anything, but then there was also a dude named Paragon there, who was also shortened to Para, and things got confusing. Plus, he was a bit of a dick, and I don't wanna be confused for a dick. 'Cause I'm totally a nice guy. Really. People I talk to a lot call me 'Dox. That works. But from there, it usually goes downhill. Doxy. P Dox. Those are the two most common ones. There are more, but it's 1:30 and I'm tired.
Anyway. Yeah. I didn't have a point for this. I think my name is cool.
I came up with the name "Proven Paradox" I dunno... five years ago? Something like that. I was talking with a friend of mine about a documentary I'd watched, because I'm a nerd and we were really damn bored. I think it was about the wave/particle duality of light, and all matter. Something about a phenomenon that shouldn't happen according to the laws of physics as we understand them, but obviously does. I don't remember specifics, of course, but you get the idea. It was a paradox, according to the rules as we've written them, and yet it happens. A proven paradox. Both of us stopped for a second after I said that phrase. I then said, "Damn, that would make a cool on-line name." Thus, my handle changed from "Elite" to "Proven Paradox." I've lost touch with a lot of the people who knew me as "Elite," which is something I regret. That's another rant, though. This is about my name.
So, for a while, everything was good. I had a kickin' alias that was apparently truly unique, and that holds to this day. I have never encountered another Proven Paradox.
Then the downsides came up.
The first should have been damn obvious. Proven Paradox. The initials are PP. How did I not see that!? It was right there! What the hell!? My name shortens into a cutesy word for urine!
But, hey, most people just point it out, chuckle, and move on. It gets annoying, but eh. It's still a cool name.
But people keep finding new ways to mangle it into something terrible. I know that Proven Paradox is a mouthful in chatrooms. It's usually shortened to Proven. A few people choose Paradox instead. At one place it was shortened to Para more than anything, but then there was also a dude named Paragon there, who was also shortened to Para, and things got confusing. Plus, he was a bit of a dick, and I don't wanna be confused for a dick. 'Cause I'm totally a nice guy. Really. People I talk to a lot call me 'Dox. That works. But from there, it usually goes downhill. Doxy. P Dox. Those are the two most common ones. There are more, but it's 1:30 and I'm tired.
Anyway. Yeah. I didn't have a point for this. I think my name is cool.
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