A few days ago I found out that my daughter would like me to DM a D&D campaign for her and her friends (and my wife). This made me chuckle because I'd been giving a little thought to making the offer over the past few weeks.
At any rate, this has gotten my creativity flowing and I need to transcribe and fill out a thought before the normal wear and tear of a normal day destroys any chance of my remembering where I started.
Ever since the release of the Eberron campaign setting, I've been taken with the Warforged race. For anyone who doesn't know, Warforged are a race of living constructs. Golems created for warfare by people who needed 'expendable soldiers'. At some point in the process, the magical machines were given souls and came to life. A cooler version of Frankenstein's Monster than the old Flesh Golem.
I've gotta say that I like this race so much that I can't help but try to find a way to fit them into a setting or a campaign, even if I don't want to play Eberron. This is what I came up with between 10 pm last night and 6am this morning.
When I was younger and going through the manditory teenage emo phase, my father read a piece of poetry that I'd composed (and was quite proud of) and said something to me that kicked me right in the pants. He asked me why I wrote such dark and dismal things. Why was I focused on death and the grim reaper? Was I unhappy?
I couldn't answer him. I didn't have a reason that I could understand. It did make me stop and wonder if what I was writing was right for me.
For the last few days I have been reading a new book, one that caught my eye on the shelf and held my interest through reading a few random pages. I'd like to say I like the book. It has an engaging set of hooks that keep the reader's interest high, and even though the main character is some kind of superwoman I can excuse that. What I'm having trouble excusing is the vulgarity.
It seems excessive to me, and I have used a lot of vulgarity in my daily speech. I don't see how crude language, be it between the characters or elsewhere, is anything other than a shock tactic. But more importantly I wonder what it says about the writer. Or the readers who enjoyed the book and clamor for more. Or me, for being troubled by it.
In the vein of how I started this post, I do hope that the author is not so jaded and modern that the writing of this book was not troublesome in some sense. Deep down, I cannot help but wonder at her peace of mind.
http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h50/Th
This is an interesting feature. ... huh
Favorite words? unison, maybe. I love how it sounds. I used to mispronounce when I was much younger, and one day I heard it said correctly. It was like a big grin going off in my head. ;)
Least favorite. That's easy. 'can't', 'sorry', and 'accident'.
Too often can't is just a cop-out. Not always, but I'm tired of having to differentiate between the two.
And I get tired of people using accident and sorry as a panacea and get-out-of-jail-free card. You being sorry, or it being an accident, doesn't change that something happened. Unless it's got an implied '...and I'll try not to do it again', it's really hard to take it at face value.
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There's some 'before' pics (not very good ones...they were very old) in my journal back in Sept 23 2003.
Mondays cannot officially suck until you actually get to work/school.
Otherwise, you end up with my situation this morning, where I was doing a brake job on my car before I could even get started complaining about Mondays.
- Mood:
sore
Question
Another warning about Ghost from John
Answer
John says: The actual warning should be:
If you have any problems with reading books in which:
Islamic terrorists are bad guys with very few redeeming features who should be killed like rabid dogs...
Women are all good looking and young, because that's what's fun to look at...
Sex is graphic, kinky and in some cases frankly wrong...
Violence is presented as a pretty damned good solution to most of the terrorism in the world...
PC is represented as being fuzzy-headed, idiotic, ignorant and a useless appendage upon the body of humanity...
Red meat is eaten in quantities with no moral qualms whatsoever...
The "good guy" who does really good _things_ is really not a nice person, not a nice person _at all_ in so many ways you'll agree by the end of the book...
THEN DON'T PICK UP THIS BOOK!
I didn't. If we'd had parts for a trap, we might have even gotten to the festival flame.
This past week we watched Mission Impossible 3 (decent), and then a couple of days ago Sleeping with the Enemy (eh) came on TV while my wife was having a cuddle moment. OK..no problem...Until the next day.
Wife: "You know what? I bet that movie (Enemy) would have been better if she'd been a secret agent."
Daughter: "Yeah! When that guy went to hit her, she'd have kicked his butt! That would have been great!"
Me: o_O;;;
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy knowing people in-game...but I feel guilty when I've got to leave them hanging because of guild commitments.
On that note...Holy cow. I still can't decide if I like being guilded or not. It's obvious that if I wasn't guilded I wouldn't ever see the high-end content (pickup groups for Molten Core or BlackWing Lair? Don't make me laugh). I don't know if the hassle is worth the advancement though. I must come across as a total ass to most of my guild members, because I think I disagree with just about every decision that's ever been made. Part of that comes from playing the game on a west coast server while I'm in the central timezone. Everything starts two hours late ... I have a lot of time to eat dinner, but guild runs tend to end later than midnight, and I'm simply not willing to do that.
Dunno. If anything eventually drives me away from the MMO, it's the requirement to get into a 'hardcore' guild in order to do anything of note. I could quickly get tired of people trying to make stupid rules in the name of what is 'good for the guild'. ... Boneheads.
Dammit. Now I am without a guild
- Mood:
pissed off
---
This was definately an eventful weekend for my normal adventuring party.
In truth, we are a bit behind on instances, level-wise. This is probably because we choose to hammer out normal quests as a rule rather than head for the instances at first opportunity...but when we do go in, fun always ensues.
So Saturday we gather and head for Maraudon with the full intent of dealing a deathblow to the Princess (and clearing some quest logs!) There are four of us, typically...myself, Mannan (hunter extraordinaire), Vegita (oh great rogue of 10,000 dps), and Melantha (sneaky...verrra sneaky)...and that is all we entered the instance with.
Truly, most of the mobs present little problem. Even the Giants-of-Unusual-Size were little more than a speedbump once we realized what it was we were facing...but the Princess. There was a mob of a different shape (and quite an ugly one at that).
I'm sure that most of you have already seen the Princess, or tales of fighting Her Ugliness, and most of you are probably saying that we are quite teh fulz for trying this without a tank. You would probably be right.
The fight started much as we expected. YT, the famed white crocolisk of Stormwind, charged valiantly into battle, only to fall prey to the Princess' noxious fart attack (and underarm oder) within a few hits...our efforts to heal him were in vain. In this time, however, the great Vegita was able to well and truly establish his dominance on her List of Things to Kill. Certainly it would have gone ill had I not quickly applied some of my wandering attention to putting Band-Aids on his owies, thus allowing him to continue to anger the Great and Ugly.
Things were truly going well at this point, and we all felt that the tales of Princess' strength might be over-stated...and then she did it. Nearly dead, nearly bereft of her life-sustaining fluids (whatever those might be), she passed gas again, and the party was scattered, broken and unable to breathe...fleeing madly for some fresh air. Only I remained unaffected, and the Princess noted this right away.
To my dismay, some primal instinct emerged, and I felt a foolish need to strike a blow for freedom and clean air everywhere! And promptly died. Now, the party was in peril...beaten and tossed to the wind, first Vegita fell, his mighty swords unable to stave off her furious assault...and then Mannan, when playing dead just didn't cut it.
All that was left was the great sneak, and Melantha knew that she could not live on her own. Trusting that the Princess had no rocks to throw, or vomitous bile attack, Melantha ran...and ran...and ran...somehow surviving while Vegita and I recovered from our greivous wounds and made our way back to where Mannan's broken corpse lie.
With precice timing, we waited until Princess ran by, still vainly trying to punish Melantha for daring to survive, and I quickly brought Mannan back from the dead and we finished the job that we had started, cheering one and all when the noxious one was dead at our feet.
...
And the moral of the story? Sometimes it's a good idea to run away. ;)
Tales of the Questor has had me on the edge of my seat for the last five or six updates. It's worth a read if you like sword and sorcery and webcomics.
Today I am sporting a classy new cast! W00+!!!
Seriously. I lost my temper yesterday and struck a solid blow to an even more solid object. The object, as you have probably surmised, won.
This is going to be an uncomfortable few weeks
- Mood: cynical
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elusivetiger...I have always, always been a 'stick' kinda guy. Political, but read on if you wish.- Mood:
indescribable
*grumble*
We followed a lead to an old office building. Arriving, we found the building infested with minons of Doc Vahzilok, including hordes of his foul Abominations. It was a hard fight to the leader of this infestation, but we finally defeated and destroyed a Murk Eidolon...quite the formidable opponent indeed!
Our sense of congratulation was to be short lived, however. Psychic Phase had been infected with a new disease, apparently created by the Doctor's foul research! The effects were drastic and sudden, leaving her weak, vulnerable, and winded. A terrible disease indeed! We raced to the finest medical minds in Paragon City, only to find that the laboratory which could concoct an antidote had been attacked by more of Vahzilok's minons! Blast!
Leading the charge, I assaulted the lab with Psychic Phase using her powers to aid me when the progress of the disease allowed her energy to do so. Again, we were eventually confronted by an Eidolon, one of Vahzilok's finest creations..an undead creature with all of the powers of a super hero. It was a tremendous battle that left me hurt and winded, but eventually the foul creature fell before my icy blasts and we were able to collect the antidote to cure by beloved. Disaster averted!
Our adventures were not over, however. Psychic Phase was contacted minutes later...Vahzilok minons were seen carrying corpses into the sewers. This could only mean that these bodies would somehow be used to incubate this new and deadly disease. They had to be stopped. Joined by a familiar stalwart companion, Little Package, we charged into the depths of the city and incinerated the corpses as they were found...but we were shocked to find the Doctor himself. He cautioned us not to interfere...that our 'amateur efforts' would surely cause an even greater problem. I cannot fathom the depths of insanity that this foul creature has fallen to. He creates diseases of deathly effect...and then tries to not only limit the damage, but at the same time incubate more of the deadly spores? Truly a twisted mind lies within his monstrous bulk.
Immediately after his warning, he attacks us with all his might, and it took all of our power and wits and luck simply to survive the battle. I was actually beaten to unconscousness for a short time, leaving the indomitable Little Package and puissant Psychic Phase to face him alone. But we finally did prevail against this menace, claiming victory over the beaten and misshapen hulk
- Mood:
geeky - Music:Hotel California - Eagles
