Infinity Minor

Project Natal's Fatal "Move"

2010-03-28T02:00:00.007-05:00

In the beginning, there was Magnavox Odyssey. It was clunky, boasted poor graphics, and was the unfortunate victim of craptacular marketing, but hey! It was VIDEO GAMES in your HOUSE! Three years later, the first Atari system hit the markets, and the Great Console Wars began. Skip forward 35 years to find just how far the rivalry has come... and how far it hasn't.

Let's review the major players in 2010:

First up, we have the Nintendo Wii. Much like the Odyssey, the setup is moderately clunky (how many peripherals are you selling us again?), the graphics aren't exactly the best on the market, and who can forget Nintendo's own case of epic craptacular marketing? Regardless of its shortcomings, there remains a very loyal Nintendo fanbase that will continue to throw as much money in Nintendo's direction as they suggest could possibly be spent.

Speaking of insatiable fan markets, our next up-and-comer is the Sony PlayStation 3. Sleek and somewhat mean looking, it is the latest in a long line of fierce hares against Nintendo's tortoise. The PS3 brought a new toy to the game, though it didn't quite make the splash they were expecting at first. Still, several years of playing the field gave Sony the know-how they needed (read: Final Fantasy a.k.a. The Neverending Franchise) to give Nintendo a decent run for its money. Even if they initially almost had to run for theirs. (Ah, Penny Arcade, is there any marketing mishap you can't illustrate perfectly?)

Titan though they may be, these console giants were no longer alone in their epic struggle for all your base. Enter the new(ish) kid on the block: Microsoft's Xbox 360. Not only was he packing some serious processing heat (wait.. that may be bad phrasing), but the introduction of a fully functional interactive version of Xbox Live brought the rookie head and shoulders above its more experienced opponents. Add the fact that Xbox Live has officially bridged the gap between console and PC with the additions of cross-platform multiplayer, connection to Microsoft's instant messaging service, and partnerships with networking hotshots Facebook and Twitter, and the 360 almost appears unstoppable in its quest for console dominance. Those of you not living under a rock, however, are well aware that any time Microsoft does something big, they have to take it one step bigger.

Out comes Project Natal, Microsoft's most ambitious innovative promise to date. For those of you that missed it, here's a recap of the candyland wonder they swear we're getting in the upcoming holiday season:

That was the video they released last summer as part of their E3 announcement. In the time that's passed, Sony has predictably come up with their counter-argument: the PlayStation Move

If parts of that looked almost back-stabbingly familiar (other than the begging-to-be-mocked glowing lollipop design), it's because they are. Whatever subtleties were missed by the audience in Sony's initial campaign were spelled out almost explicitly in a follow-up commercial run claiming to be from a future where the Wii's motion capture movements and Project Natal's limited demo release videos turned out to be the only real involvement either platform ever had to offer. While this would ordinarily be scoffed aside as a shockingly underhanded act of mud-slinging normally reserved for politicians, an observant viewer will notice something rather disturbing.

Sony has a point.

Recent releases (sorry, can't find that link again) have stated that Microsoft intends for Natal to allow for controller use so people like the "handful of millions of people who enjoy playing shooters or platformers or anything that doesn't involve catching a big red ball," as Sony mentioned, can continue with the sort of gaming experience they prefer, but how would that work exactly? Yes, the 360 has an existing controller, but that bad boy requires TWO hands to operate. Remember how Halo was awesome in part because of its dual-joystick motion control? Now imagine trying to pull that off while using other parts of your body to execute commands at the same time. No, actually trying it won't help, but go ahead and amuse yourself by giving it a shot.

Please note this blog cannot be held responsible for whatever bruises you just gave yourself as the floor, walls, couch, or controller engaged in merry fisticuffs with your clumsy ass.

Now that you're done embarrassing yourself, keep in mind that at the moment it appears this is exactly what Microsoft expects you to do. Maybe they think you can do this with one hand, but that would assume they've learned absolutely nothing from the last time they thought their controller was built for human hands. Actually, with Microsoft that might not be such a stretch.

Look, Natal is awesome-looking and actually innovative, two things that will absolutely work in Microsoft's favor, but there's a severe problem where gameplay is concerned. That problem lies in the gameplay. Yes, there will be fascinating new titles and interfaces for us to all enjoy. There might even be some much-needed revamping of old titles (imagine if DDR actually involved DANCING?), but many of the functions of current gaming experiences have been suspiciously not covered in press releases to date. Now, I'm aware there are plenty of surprises waiting for us that will be unveiled at this year's E3, but unless they're cheating on their homework and coming out with a new controller that's just as much of a rip-off of the Wiimote as Sony's Move wand, Microsoft is going to have some serious problems.

There's just too many questions currently left unanswered. How DOES Natal work with a shooter? What gestures will a player be required to use in order to move around in the virtual world when they're not in a car? What happens when you need to make a quick turn to the left or right to interact with a moving object? Can gestures be detected WITHOUT playing standing up, or will I be screwed out of my favorite game because I'm sick enough that I can't stand very long or maintain accurate fine motor control (required to use dual joysticks effectively)? To make yet another PA reference, what happens to the abilities of disabled and terminally ill people to play games donated by charities like Child's Play? The Wii may have turned out to be somewhat underwhelming when it was discovered that only tiny twitch-like movements were actually required to play properly, and the Move seems to have remedied that, but Natal looks to be something that would flat-out require a full range of motion rather than simply encouraging it, which could be disastrous on many fronts.

Even if a game like a shooter was designed to incorporate Natal in specific ways, allowing you to shift back and forth between needing the controller and performing controller-optional functions, how long would you last swapping back and forth before you either walked away in frustration or just turned Natal off entirely?

There was much more I wanted to say, and certainly more details illustrating the insanity I expect to experience when I buy my Natal (my fervent crush on Molyneux's brain prevents me from doing otherwise), but I'd like to point out that my outlook isn't all gloom and doom here. While it may be the sleep deprivation talking (it's certainly the sleep deprivation writing at this point) there's some serious entertainment at stake in all this. You see, in spite of all I've outlined here, there is one way in which we still might get something new and exciting out of Microsoft's short-sighted production methods:

Natal just might have the honor of busting many a gamer-rage cherry, granting it a sure-fire place in the YouTube hall of fame. After all, who needs a Wiimote through the TV when you can send an Xbox bearclaw through the wall behind it?

Honesty Comes In Many Venues

2009-09-21T08:21:00.002-05:00

[8:56] ladyvista: you want to know something weird
[8:57] ladyvista: i think i miss you
[8:57] ladyvista: i'm making a connection from across the country
[8:57] ladyvista: out of loneliness
[8:57] ladyvista: out of desperation
[8:58] ladyvista: it wouldn't come to anything
[8:58] ladyvista: but it would be beautiful for a time
[8:58] ladyvista: this pain i feel
[8:58] ladyvista: it's familiar
[8:59] ladyvista: it's what caring feels like
[8:59] ladyvista: and separation
[8:59] ladyvista: and it's gorgeous
[8:59] ladyvista: i owe you a great deal for making me hurt like this
[8:59] ladyvista: even for a moment
[9:00] ladyvista: I just hope you'll understand
[9:00] ladyvista: I'm not being creepy
[9:00] ladyvista: I'm not asking for anything
[9:00] ladyvista: I know better than that
[9:01] ladyvista: but as one damaged freak to another

Thank you.

I have a new favorite band! ^-^

2009-03-31T12:39:00.004-05:00

Yes, I have discovered Da Vinci's Notebook. They are absolutely hilarious, and for those of you who do not know them, I will provide you with some of their songs as presented on YouTube. Some of these were recorded on the Bob & Tom show, some were not. One song I have both on the show and not, but the version on the show is better in many opinions (one of them mine).

And finally, the universal favorite (among those I've spoken with) and the song that introduced me to their awesomeness by being in a flash animation produced by one of my exes' older brother:

Yes, some of these are NSFW, but since you only know that if you've heard the songs before, read all the text before watching videos, or have a bit of common sense in reading titles, you may or may not already be paranoid about having been caught listening to them. Either way, I hope you enjoyed as much as I have. This is by no means all of their songs to date, nor all of the ones I have heard, but they are the best ones I've found thus far and had to be shared.

This is Important

2009-02-12T11:32:00.006-06:00

People talk a lot about the value of friendship. To move in life, you must make friends. It isn't what you know, it's who you know. The value of who you're with. But it isn't a lesson we really need to be taught now is it? Young children have imaginary friends that go with them wherever they are. They play games. They talk to them. They listen. Sometimes they even have dissenting opinions, and if you're really good (or really broken... don't know which) your imaginary friend is so different from you that they challenge you and force you to develop either tantrum-like arguments or critical thinking behavior. So yes, we know. We all know. Friends are important. Have them. Make them. Keep them. Make them up if you must, but whatever you do, have one.

Friendship.

There have been studies that have shown that the number one way to predict success in adulthood is by examining the friendship capabilities of a person when they are younger. Now, I don't remember whether this younger time period was childhood or teenage years or high school, but the message was the same as we've always been told. A man without friends gains little in life, but a man with friends will go far.

My dad goes off to meetings for his job, when he has one. He comes home after a day of work, and he worries about the impact he had on the other people he works with. He worries about his ability to get along because even a superficial and location-restricted alliance is one that can potentially make or break your life. My father worries about his ability to make friends. He doesn't really have many. In fact, other than his wife and daughter, I don't even know right now that he has any... and his life is not one that I would call 'in a placement of success'.

Friendship.

Depression hits you worst when you're alone. Doctors, psychiatrists, and parents tell you to go out and interface with people. Make friends. Play with friends. Just be around them in general, because the interaction, when done properly, will help you. Friendship will save the day. We feel sorry for the child who sits and says "I have no friends." We find it abnormal to the point of concern when a child or grown individual spends all their time alone with themselves and doesn't even try, because they have no friendship. A person who has no friends, or perceives themselves to have no friends, is considered in the eyes of society at large and individual communities to be at risk for mental disorder and general failure in life, the power of friendship being not with them. We have classified "anti-social", ladies and gentlemen, and we have declared it a public health risk. It is listed in the diagnostic criteria for a person likely to be a sociopath or any other number of mental illnesses that scare us. When you hear about the kid who walked into school and shot people, "Oh they were so quiet... and alone."

We worry about alone. We worry about dying alone. We worry about living alone. We take our friends and we make them lovers. We make them husbands and wives. And when those people cannot or will not be with us, we make our children our friends, sometimes without bothering to think on the consequences of making your young child a bosom buddy as if they were your age. Because we need it.

My cousin is so obsessed with not being alone that she can't go anywhere without a friend. She carries them with her. Everywhere. She once told me, "Before I leave the house I always grab my buddy. I have to have my buddy." She couldn't even move in with her father unless she brought someone with her from the state in which she then lived to the one where her father resides. She had to convince this person to move miles away from home, from everyone they knew, from everything they had, because she couldn't go live with Daddy unless she brought a friend. She couldn't even make the drive between states without a friend tagging along back when she was just visiting.

Friendship.

We have a set of criteria for how you're supposed to behave toward your friends. You care about them. You help them out. You bring them up when they are down, and they will do the same for you. Reciprocity. You give them things. On their birthday. On a holiday. Whenever you feel like it, just because. And when they are sick, you do what you can. You take care of them. Whether it's by physically going and being there and making them soup, or wiping the blood off their skin when the bandage isn't enough, or helping them dress themselves when their arm is in a cast; or whether it's simply being there on the phone, in school in the hallway, in an e-mail, or in a card saying "Get well. I want you better. I miss you. You are my friend." We have a saying: "That's what friends are for." "That's what friends do." It has some variations, but it defines that the purpose of friendship is to be there to lean on. There's a song about it, and we do all need someone to lean on.

BUT

There is something we forget when our friends aren't there, when the other people have vanished for the temporary time that they most likely will for we do not all live with our friends: that there's still one there that many of us don't even think about. Don't realize the value of that friend. Don't realize what they might be doing to compromise that friendship that is so critical, so life-determining, that it is literally a question of life or death or debilitating injury. That is our own bodies. And we don't always take care of our friends.

I woke up this morning feeling pretty good. I was excited, actually. I'd been making some wonderful progress in my life. Getting ready to go to school. Overcoming some of the autistic barriers I've been having to deal with in my life. One step at a time. Can't do it all at once. I was even... am even getting back on some critical medications that I need to be able to function properly, and I felt good. I was awake and cheerful. Those of you who actually know me will realize exactly what kind of an outrageous statement that is, but yes I had just woken up and was cheerful. Get over it.

I went to the bathroom, closed the door. I started getting ready to shower, and when I do, there is one thing I always do. I examine myself in the mirror, looking for things to be happy about, things to be sad about. I had already stepped on the scale and discovered that I had managed to lose a few pounds over the course of the past few days, which made me happy, so I was examining myself with a less critical eye than usual (I like to point out my flaws), and with this eye, looking to praise, looking for things to say "you're doing well," "you can feel good about yourself," "you have accomplished something," I found something that said the exact opposite, and there was no amount of lying to myself that could convince me otherwise anymore. It was something I'd kind of seen coming but didn't really. I'd previously angsted about it, wondered what I could do to prevent it, considered doing things to avoid it, but was scared. I didn't do any of those things. I didn't take care of my friend, the only one who is always there.

You cannot run away from your body. You cannot get tired of it and tell it to leave you alone for a day. You cannot hang up the phone on it. You cannot tell it you need your space. No matter where you go, it's there. You can change it. You can slice it up and carve it into something different. You can fill it full of all sorts of things. You can take things away. But you cannot get away from it, and in the end it never really changes, no matter what you do; and when it's telling you that something is wrong, the one way to guarantee 100% that you will fail in some fashion or another is to ignore it, to tell it that you need your space and look the other way.

I have not been listening.

I looked in that mirror this morning, and I could no longer ignore my friend for it was telling me something was wrong, and I knew exactly what it was. I have developed the beginnings of a hump on my upper back because my breasts are too large, and I was not willing to do what I knew I should to take care of them. Because it was uncomfortable. Because it 'felt weird'. Because I was afraid to do what I suspected needed to be done. I cannot be afraid anymore.

People like to say that my breasts are a good thing. "Oh they're so big!" "Oh they're so pretty!" From women and some men, I hear "I would give anything to have breasts like yours," or "What can I do to have breasts like yours?" Sometimes I even get phrases usually associated with creeps but occasionally delivered with a sense of awe and wonder and genuine non-sexual interest. "Can I touch them?" "How did you get those?" "Are they real?" But these people are people who don't know in any respect what they are talking about, what they are praising, and what they are asking for. For there are other comments I get from smarter people. These are wiser, more informed individuals, some of whom are other women with large breasts and some who simply know people who have them. These comments are statements of pity and concern, sometimes medically based, sometimes not. My answer to these people has been, for the longest time, "I don't care. I'm keeping them," with the reason being anywhere from "I love them" to "my boyfriend would make such a fuss" (that one normally in jest) to "I can't take the idea of being cut open. I am afraid. It creeps me out."

Well now I don't care. I don't care if I have scars. I don't care if they are damaged. I don't care if I come out on the other end unable to nurse children. I don't care if they come out misshapen. I don't care if they come out smaller than I wanted. I don't care if I lose them completely. Because they have hurt me. They have compromised the integrity of my bones, and when your bone structure is altered in a way that has negative impact on your life, everything changes. Sometimes in small ways, sometimes in big ones, sometimes in a cascading pattern, but they are your framework.

There is a reason that the skeleton, that the very word "skeleton", has become a word that defines the important supportive structure of a building, of a society, of anything. People who talk about getting something "down to bare bones" are talking about the basic, most important parts. A skeletal argument holds only what is necessary with no embellishments. The skeleton of a house is what keeps it from falling around you and must be the first thing put up (unless it has a basement). People talk about if you "have no spine", if you're "spineless", then you have no strength, unable to do necessary things for your life, whether those things are actually necessary or not.

What is unavoidable is that these things, these parts, must be taken care of. You must care for them properly, or you will face failure.

Life, death, or debilitating injury. My spine or my breasts.

I have made my choice. It's a hard one. I will be potentially giving up something that is generally considered important for a woman. I will be putting myself through some pretty severe emotional turmoil. But hey,...

...that's what friends are for.

Happiness, Inspired?

2009-02-03T23:37:00.003-06:00

You know that re-purposing I was talking about? Well, I've had another breakthrough!

I am obsessed with finding out why humans are so crazy, stupid, and totally awesome. For a number of years I have, on and off, toyed with the studies of human behavior in various forms. Psychology, sociology, archaeology, anthropology, other... -ologies. One day I wanted to travel the world looking at the different people and figuring them all out, the next day I wanted to plumb the depths of the human mind to create the first true AI. All the time, though, I wanted to do something big.

I'm a sensation junkie. It's just a statement of fact.

So here's my junkie solution: I become a sensation anth. No really! I become a cultural anthropologist, and I study all the groups that are heavy into the things I love. I study Burning Man, Ren Faire performers, and live theater groups. I can be close to the things I love to do and learn a lot about them and the people who do them, and still have a good, paying job. I can even get a professorship so I stay in one place.

Opinions, anyone?

Confessions

2009-02-03T11:02:00.002-06:00

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I intend to do a big secret divulging list. So here it goes.

1. I have a severe and chronic weakness for Will & Grace that can't be cured.
2. The only thing stopping me from going full lesbian is my girlfriend.
3. I'm addicted to carbs.
4. I actually don't appreciate niceness as much as I use it.
5. I believe tradition is useless when not practical.
6. No, you can't believe everything I say, but I'm working on it.
7. You will see me in pledge line at the good sororities.. yeah I know, but still.
8. Yes, I love her more than my sisters.
9. Sometimes, I just want to scare you.
10. I really am as messed up in the head as you think I am.
11. All I wanna do is have some fun, and I got a feeling it's going to be expensive.
12. This didn't go nearly as well as I wanted it to.

Statement of re-Purpose

2009-01-30T13:07:00.001-06:00

As you may or may not know, oh few if any people who actually read this blog other than myself, I have another blog. Technically, it's a co-blog. I do lit stuff on it, and the other blogger does all of her blogging on it. I call her Madame Funnyguts. ^-^ In fact, the blog can be found at http://funnyguts.blogspot.com! So drop by it sometime, ok?

Anyway, as I said, this blog is my personal blog, and so it will be my personal soapbox/e-journal/newsblog/whatever-I-feel-like. I have recently decided that I would be most happy doing something related to helping the environment in my personal and (hopefully) professional life. The problem, however, is how to aim at that in the long run. I know I want my house to be as close to self-sufficient as possible. I want to have full energy, grow much of my own herbs and vegetables, maybe even a few chickens so I can have cruelty-free eggs for baking and whatnot, which means I'll also be growing my own feed corn. I don't want to live on a farm, but I do want to have enough land to make my perfect home feasible and beautiful. I'll have a green roof, a greenhouse, recycled water, compost, rain collection, solar panels, wind energy, and more. At the same time, this house will be very large and extravagant. The problem is I'll be building this house entirely from scratch. This will not be a house I buy and have renovated, though I might do that a few times while I'm building my life up. This is expensive and then some, so I have to be making at least six figures household net annual income.

HOW EXACTLY DO I DO THAT????

Option 1: Go into computers and virtually guarantee that I'll make a ton of money eventually at some point. Yeah... right... never.

Option better: Turn my passion for combining an eco-friendly sustainable lifestyle with fabulousness into a high-paying career. This will involve a substantial amount of college, which I don't mind and in fact will rather enjoy. Maybe someday I'll have my own TV show where people watch me build, rebuild, and greenovate houses for the rich, famous, and fantastic. ^-^ It's a good dream, right?

To Poke The Moon...

2009-01-05T18:54:00.003-06:00

As you may or may not know, oh few if any people who actually read this blog other than myself, I have another blog. Actually, it's a joint blog, though a look at the updates page may cause one to think differently. What I notice, however, is neither one seems to get much use. I see two unfinished drafts on this blog, three on the other... but most of them aren't even recent. We just don't do this much. Now, on my part, it's because I don't really know what to say. Sure, I could hop online and spout my opinions and beliefs to the random internet at any given interval like some bloggers I've seen, but that seems a bit... well... random. I like to make a point. I like to be able to trick myself into thinking I've made someone think, act, or at least laugh. Hell, I'll settle for a bad joke groan. On the 'lit' side, I like to make things that are, well, pretty. Or at least artfully put together. Or at least barely passing for lit.

Note this doesn't happen.

Note also, I'm making a random sharing-my-thoughts post. Yeah, I've decided to get over myself.

Here's a thing I've realized: I am doing this on the INTERNET.

It isn't like I'm writing for a major publication that would have severe consequences if I do something stupid or arrogant or whatnot. Nor am I a major public figure, and I wouldn't want to be. I am a person going about putting their thoughts into pixels and throwing them to the wolves, trolls, and pastafarians to gnaw and gnash and mangle into whatsoever they will. Very few people will actually care what I think, and of those who do, very very few of them will actually change their lives or thought processes as a result of what I've said. I am not immune to affecting other people, but I am very mathematically unlikely to affect someone to the point of directing their life or the lives of those around them in any severely altering fashion. Nobody is going to kill themselves over what I say. Nobody is going to change religions (though if you go atheist, I will dance). Nobody is going to beat their spouse, or fuck their dog, or start world war III, or prevent world war III, or be suddenly inspired with bablefish DNA and the cure for cancer because of something I wrote. Therefore, I can write whatever the fuck I want without fear of legitimate ridicule or sudden fame.

I win.

In the name of all that is groggy...

2008-10-17T17:27:00.003-05:00

You know, most of the time when I find myself feeling the need to have my eyes shut more often than they are open, I come to realize that this may be a time to shut off my computer, gather my belongings, retire my dishes (if there are any) to the kitchen, and head to my room for sleep in my Most Appropriate Sleeping Place. This is also known, colloquially, as a "bed". These objects are owned by many people, and one may, in point of fact, find them in several locations around my apartment. Primarily, they reside in my housemates' bedrooms, but one can be found in the folded form of a couch in our living room if necessary. Indeed, I say, beds are plentiful.

Why, then, are they so often abandoned in favor of more enigmatic pieces of upholstery? I speak, of course, of none other than the curious phenomenon called Chair Napping.

I am rarely one to judge the sleeping habits of others. After all, I sleep on a crappy air mattress and therefore would not be bitched upon if one night I decided to take a break from it and retire on the pull-out couch. One could even call me accustomed to this strange diurnal practice as I have witnessed it so frequently in my former living places. There is one thing, though, that separates my previous encounters from my current ones. That is age. Chair Napping is generally considered, even observed, to be the practice of the elderly and the considerably ill. My housemates, by contrast, are young (early to late twenties, save for the one guy barely over thirty) and invariably of excellent health. Yet there is Chair Napping. This baffles me to no end.

Worse than the simple act of Chair Napping is the fully intentional nature of it. If one has to move objects and settle themselves in preparation for an event, then they most likely remain conscious enough to relocate to an actual sleeping facility. This doesn't happen. Rather, the person in question assumes what would ordinarily be a grotesquely uncomfortable bodily position often involving the unnatural bending and folding of various joints and limbs and proceeds to fall asleep in the middle of a common living area. If I become physically uncomfortable simply by looking at you, then either you're doing something wrong or you have suddenly lost the ability to feel pain. Neither of these is a good thing.

Of course, some people might argue that actual sleep is not the goal of these trespasses of proper slumbering etiquette. These people would say that one aims to 'cat nap' rather than take a prolonged snooze, and that passing out in a chair or similar article of furniture is therefore justified and appropriate to the objective at hand. This is as may be, and if it is true it makes a tiny bit more sense than to assume that one is simply behaving irregularly. I am afraid that I have but one statement to make in defense of my own position on the subject:

Get, and use, a fucking alarm clock.

Delivered As Promised

2008-10-12T06:21:00.002-05:00

Well I said posting would start upon completion of the bottle of wine. Since the bottle of wine has been consumed, I suppose now would be a good time to become a woman of my word.

So!

Posting it shall be. Sadly, I lack a topic, so spouting whatever comes to brain will have to suffice until I can come up with one.

Life, for myself, has become ever so complicated as of late. I find myself in questionable relationships of both the romantic and platonic variety, all of which engage themselves in a greater amount of dramatic happenings than I would rather find myself tangled into. I suppose that is life, but this is ridiculous. I nearly find myself in a love/unrequited hectogram, were it not for the fact that certain of those involved barely even know of each other, let alone find themselves engaging in romantic and/or sexual relations with each other. In any event, it makes my life interesting at best, infuriating at median, and like to the plight of Tartarus at worst.

But you have little if any interest in my love life.

Truth be told, I find myself in a wave of dissettlement. (yes, I make up words) My love life, my physical activity life, my platonic life, my acedemic life, and my occupational life, are all at odds. Rather, they could be said to be in measure, due to the fact that each barely even exists, if at all, but I prefer not to look at it that way. It's just too depressing.

Arg.

2008-10-12T04:42:00.002-05:00

Yeah, the whole comic thing isn't working out. I've got scripts and scripts and scripts written down on paper, and can't for the life of me figure out a person to draw it. Also, I have little faith in my scripts. So fuck it. This blog is going to turn into a random-ass blog of actual bloggity until I can figure out something better to do. Posting should start as soon as I finish this bottle of plum wine. (if not sooner)

Bits I don't want to forget 1

2008-04-02T08:00:00.009-05:00

CHARACTERS - major, minor, and mildly mentioned
----list incomplete----

Kenneth based on my boyfriend
Aura-Lee based on boyfriend's female friend (a.k.a. BF-FF)
Janean based on what little I know of boyfriend's redheaded ex
Layna based on me
Samantha based on Kassandra
Tiffany based on Ashley
James based loosely on Mike
Markus based on DMing guy at one-night-stand game
Susan based on DM guy's female roomie
Roxie based on Julianne
Drew based on Erik a.k.a. my dad
Eric based on Eric the bartender (yes, I know, it's cheap)
Karen based on Janel

SCRIPT PIECES

~Layna: [doing dishes with phone on shoulder] Hi, honey. We have a problem that I really need to talk to you about.
~Kenneth: [possibly same panel unseen over phone?] Look, if this is about Aura-Lee I really don-
~Layna: No, this has nothing to do with Aura-Lee. I told you, I'm over it. This has to do with me. I think I sprouted off a particularly strong branch of the queerberry tree.
~Kenneth: The fuck?
~Layna: It's an expression.
~Kenneth: I got that. What kind of expression?
~Layna: The kind that means that as of this morning my father is the only member of my immediate family who doesn't qualify to hang out in gay bars. See, Sammie called me this morning and-
~Kenneth: Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah! Hold on a minute here. There's no way you can say with certainty that your youngest sister is bi. [on his cell phone in a grassy area of a college campus with one or two trees, walking or standing] She's fourteen! She hasn't even entered high school yet and you know kids do a lot of sexual development in those years. Just because Tiffany figured out she was bi at fifteen and a half doesn't mean it's always set that early. Your mother has only admitted it recently, and you didn't figure out your attraction to women until you were nineteen.
~Layna: [in kitchen, rinsing soap suds off hands, phone on shoulder, mildly smiling] Interesting how you immediately jumped to bi. You know just because three out of the four of us females maintain an interest in the insecure sex doesn't mean it's a universal weakness. Sammie is a no-holds-barred lesbian.
~Kenneth: [over phone] Oh come on. [in park, semi-irritated expression] She hasn't even dated anyone yet! She still half believes in cooties! She squirms when people kiss on TV! How the hell is that kind of mentality conducive to figuring out ANY kind of sexual attraction alignment?
~Layna: [in kitchen, leaning back against counter, smug look, phone in hand] She may roll her eyes when Tiffany gushes about her latest boyfriend, but when my sister asks me if touching herself to Playboy centerfolds because she can't find free porn without boys in it on the internet makes her gay, I'm kind of inclined to say "yes".
~Kenneth: [standing still with stunned expression] {no dialog}
~Kenneth: [hand on forehead, expression characterized by >.<] {some kind of comment about the timing of this conversation happening on his way to lunch, possibly accusing Layna of doing it on purpose}
~Layna: [over phone] {amused "it's my job to gross you out with inappropriate sexual tension" type of comment/punchline}
{{{{next comic will deal with why this is "a problem", mention of Kenneth's desire to have his future son carry on the family name and the issues of genetics versus conditioning in homosexuality}}}}

Initial general concept statement

2008-04-02T07:48:00.002-05:00

Ok. I've been talking about doing a comic for a while. I don't know if I'm going to be the one drawing it (considering my current drawing skills, that probably wouldn't be a good idea) or if I'm going to end up outsourcing that one, but I am certainly going to be doing the scripting.

I'm going to start out doing this as a semi-autobiographical bit a la Something Positive, but I'm pretty sure it isn't going to be anywhere near as accurate as it probably ought to be by the time I'm done with it. The scripting is going to be erratic at first as I don't have a good time line but I do have a few scenes I'm a bit married to and some lines I really want to write down before I forget them. However, I do have an idea of where I'm starting, and it's where any comic writer would agree a potentially interesting comic could start.

With a game of D&D and a one-night stand.