Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Shocktoberfest Is Nigh

October...a time of pumpkin flavored foods, colorful leaves, and creepy crawlies. It's also time for the second annual Shocktoberfest, wherein I challenge myself to watch 31 horror movies in 31 days.

This can be quite a challenge, as I have to work around game night, dartball night, and an annual weekend camping trip. Adding to the challenge this year is the fact that Dr Wife is planning to participate. Trying to hit a one movie per day average is going to be an interesting, yet worthy challenge.

At minimum, I want to top last year's 19 movies. That should be doable, right?

I've already asked for suggestions via Tumblr and Facebook (thanks to those who replied - you know who you are), and Dr. Wife and I have looked over the horror movies on Netflix and Amazon Prime to create a "foundation" on which to build Shocktoberfest 2014. Here's a sample:

Cabin in the Woods (I know, this was on last year's list, but Dr. Wife hasn't seen it.)
Dead Silence
Creepshow 2
Black Death
The Ward
The Tall Man
Troll Hunter
Donovan's Brain
White Zombie
The Stuff
The Re-Animator

Additional suggestions are, of course, welcome.

Note 1:
Letterboxd won't let me create an empty list, so I'll come back and post a link to the Shocktoberfest 2014 page once I've stated the challenge.

Note 2:
As promised, here is the Letterboxd list to track Shocktoberfest 2014.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

A Hero's Quest

By 1991, I had decided that I wanted to get into fantasy roleplaying (especially D&D). This idea, planted by Choose Your Own Adventure and Lone Wolf books, had been reinforced by video games like Ultima and Dragon Warrior. I wanted a game where I could embark upon epic quests, slay mighty evils, and acquire great treasures, and I wanted to play it with my friends.

You can imagine what went through my head when I saw this commercial:

It will be mine.

I remember HeroQuest being hard to find in 1991. After we found no trace of the game at several stores, my parents started calling stores to ask if they had the game in stock (remember, there was no internet). Eventually, they found a store that had copies in stock. Unfortunately, the store was located on Mckinght Road, known to locals as McKnightmare Road. In order to fulfill this quest, we would have to brave its legendarily terrible traffic during the holiday shopping season. Undaunted, we fought our way through the traffic, made our way to the store, and claimed our prize. Because my parents are awesome.

The game was everything I'd hoped. Assuming the role of the evil wizard Zargon (the gamemaster), I challenged my family and friends to brave my various dungeons, defeat my chaos armies, and foil my evil plots. Enormous fun ensued, and I was soon designing my own dungeons.

Unfortunately, years later, that hard-won HeroQuest game was destroyed by a leaking pipe. I couldn't simply go to Target for a replacement game, as it had long since gone out of print. Ebay seemed like a good idea, but HeroQuest had become something of a collector's item, and the going price was a little rich for my wallet.

Eventually, a friend found an incomplete copy of HeroQuest at a flea market, and gave it to me as a birthday present. It was like being reunited with an old friend.

Upon closer inspection, the box that my friend had given me contained not only most of the basic HeroQuest game, but parts from three of the expansion packs (I hadn't even realized that there were more than two)! After a bit of careful Ebayng, I've managed to fill in most of the gaps in the basic set (I haven't started on the expansions yet).

It is in this situation that I find myself when I learn of a Kickstarter project to create a 25th anniversary edition of this great game. At first, I was excited. A chance not only to get a complete HeroQuest game, but to get a commemorative, possibly expanded edition? Awesome!

Unfortunately, I once again find my desire for HeroQuest at odds with my wallet. The lowest tier that gets the complete game costs US$89.00. Add to this the unpleasant fact of international shipping (another $40-50), and I'm left wondering: Is it really worth it, or should I continue on my Quest for HeroQuest Classic?

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

You Never Forget Your First

As I've discussed elsewhere, G.I. Joe was an important part of my childhood. One action figure became two. Soon, I was watching the cartoon on a daily basis while playing with my Killer W.H.A.L.E.

G.I. Joe was also my initiation to comic books.

One fine afternoon in 1987, I was out with my family at a (now closed) mall when I noticed a comic book store. Perusing their brightly colored wares, my attention was quickly caught by a familiar red, white, and blue logo. There was a G.I. Joe comic book? Even more intriguing was the as-yet unfamiliar character on the cover, with the tag line "Cobra Commander Reborn!"

Was this a new Cobra Commander? What did they mean by "Reborn"? Was the old Cobra Commander dead? Was this guy the new Cobra leader? Was it just a clever way to say "Check out the new design we came up with for Cobra Commander"? Could I live with myself if I didn't buy this comic book RIGHT NOW?

I'm fairly certain I read it twice on the way home. There was a covert mission to hack into a Terror Drome. Cobra Commander was trying, with the help of a Cobra operative, to save his comatose son. These were not the stories I'd been watching on TV. They were better.

I was hooked. My brother was hooked. Over the next year, we bought as many issues of G.I. Joe as we could get out hands on. Unfortunately, the allure of new action figures and vehicles soon re-directed our allowance flow away from the comics.

Fast forward a couple decades, and we're at my parents' house for the annual Thanksgiving Feast. My brother hands me a plastic bag, telling me that he was cleaning out his attic and found a few things I might be interested in. I look in the bag. There'a my old teddy bear, there's most of the Karameikos AD&D campaign setting, there's...

Holy crap. I never thought I'd see it again.

It's pretty battered, but there it is. The first comic book that I ever bought.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Kids Say the Metalest Things

On a recent camping trip, I found myself pushing a friend's son on a swing.  The air was filled with laughter and cries of 'Higher!  Push me higher!"  It was in this idyllic, Norman Rockwell-esque moment that the boy said the most metal thing I've ever heard in a playground.

"I want to go higher than the gods!"

Friday, March 22, 2013

Take the Money and Run

Until January of this year, I was a regular customer of Comixology. As I've never been one to collect comic books as an investment, I quite liked the idea of a digital comic collection. I wouldn't have to buy bags and longboxes to prevent my comics from deteriorating, and I could carry my entire collection (or at least a significant portion of it) on my iPad.

It wasn't long before I noticed something else that was different with digital comics: there was no way for me to share them with my friends. If I was telling my friend about a particularly good issue of The Tick, I could lend that issue to my friend so that he could share in my joy. If, however, I was telling my friend about a good issue of The Amory Wars, I had no such option.

It's clear that this is a DRM issue. Fears surrounding digital piracy had prompted Comixology to "lock down" their comics. "My" digital comics could only be accessed by logging into Comixology's website or via their iOS/Android apps (which hide the downloaded comics where you can't get at them). Surely, this would prevent those nefarious ne'er-do-wells from pirating digital comics. (spoiler alert: it didn't)

Over time, this came to bother me more and more. A particularly troubling thought was "What would happen to my digital comics if Comixology folded? If I'm completely dependent on Comixology for access to my digital comics, would I lose that access?"

This led me to try to read through Comixology's Terms of Use. After wading through several paragraphs of legalese, I found what I was looking for in section 6:

Digital Content is licensed, not sold, to you by comiXology. ComiXology reserves the right to revoke your license to Digital Content at any time for any reason.

Translated into English, this states that Comixology never sold me any digital comics. What they sold me were rights to read said comics though their service - rights that could be revoked at any time and for any reason. If Comixology were to shut down, there's no reason to believe that I would retain any of these rights - my digital comics would simply vanish in a puff of illogic.

My response was immediate:

It didn't take long for my concerns to be proven correct.

JManga, a digital comic service focused on Japanese comics, is shutting down. Their sales services are in mid-termination, and they plan to shut down entirely on May 30. All of the details can be found here.

Two statements in this announcement are of particular relevance:

As of May 30th 2013 at 11:59pm (US Pacific Time) users will no longer be able to view digital manga content on At this time all purchased and free digital manga content will be erased from all JManga Member’s accounts.
It is not possible to download manga from My Page. All digital manga content will no longer be viewable after May 30th 2013 at 11:59pm (US Pacific Time)

In other words, if you bought digital comics from JManga, they're bring taken away from you at the end of May. There will be no refunds, your money is simply gone. There is no legal way to retain or re-acquire the comics that these folks paid for.

XKCD said it best:

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Return of the Grognard

The seed was planted by Choose Your Own Adventure.

The seed was watered by the Lone Wolf series.

One December morning in the early 1990s, the seed bloomed.

A few days after Xmas, I went to visit my neighbors, hoping to drink a couple (root) beers and trade the traditional "what did you get?" tales of the holiday just past. Seeing me at the door, Jeff said "Ooh, cool! Come in, we've got something to show you!" (all quotes are vague recollections at best.) I was led into the game room, where I saw what appeared to be a game board that was printed on a poster.

Dungeons & Dragons had finally entered our lives. I chose the cleric character, and we settled in for what was to be the first of many afternoons around the gaming table.

The adventure that afternoon was "Escape From Zanzer's Dungeon." It's a relatively simple adventure, designed in such a way that the players learn more of the game rules with each step. If you've ever played an Elder Scrolls or Fallout game, you know the sort of thing I'm talking about.

We had a grand time, slaying hobgoblins, freeing slaves, and yes, Escaping From Zanazer's Dungeon. We were hooked, and we almost immediately started designing our own dungeons to delight and torture one another. Before long, we progressed to Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (2nd Edition) and found ourselves adventuring across Krynn, Faerun, Athas, and countless other fantastic lands.

Unfortunately, as is often the case, "real life" moved our fantasy adventures first to the back burner, then into the back of the pantry. When WotC released Dungeons & Dragons Third Edition, I merely watched from the sidelines.

In 2010, we finally managed to re-form our little gaming group, with a few new players for good measure. We took Third Edition for a spin (it's quite good), weathered a shift in membership, and eventually shifted to board games as a result of DM fatigue. We remained in board game mode for a few months until an idea hit me.

Because we never had much available cash for gaming, we had always played homebrewed adventures. As such, we'd never played any of the "classic" adventures of yore - the ones that are so fondly reminisced about in game shoppes worldwide. Now that I can get my hands on some of those classic adventures, maybe I should take the group back to our Second Edition roots and play some of these classic modules!

After abut a month of preparation, on March 1, 2013, we returned to the Forgotten Realms in all its early Second Edition glory. In a tribute to our gaming roots, I've re-tooled Zanzer's Dungeon for use with AD&D Second Edition rules and placed it in the foothills of Tilver's Gap.

By Clangeddin's beard, it feels good to be back.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Stay Classy, Duke Nukem

It had been sitting on my shelf for about a year. It had come into my possesson as part of a "3 for $30" deal, packaged alongside two superior games. I knew it had a reputation for sophomoric, often misogynistic humor. Still, but it couldn't possibly be that bad, could it?

Wow. Not since Leisure Suit Larry has the phrase "sophomoric, often misogynistic humor" been such an understatement. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that Duke Nukem makes ol' Larry seem like a suave gentlemen of refinement and class. Duke Nukem Forever is not merely bad; it transcends the concept of mere badness. It's one of the worst games I've ever played, and I've played E.T.

Come with me, as I explore the first room (not level, room) of Duke Nukem Forever. By the time I'm done, you'll understand what I mean.

After a mildly entertaining opening credit sequence, I find myself looking into a urinal. A "helpful" little instruction appears on the screen, telling me to pull the right trigger in order to "piss".

Taking "potty humor" to a new level.

In a game that was billed as an extreme first person shooter, the first thing I get to shoot is a urinal. Using pee. A lot of pee. It just keeps coming - as long as I hold in the trigger, Duke keeps right on peeing.

Feeling vaguely soiled, I press the X button to exit the urination simulator. Looking around, I see that I'm in a very large, multiroom bathroom facility of the sort used by sportsball teams. Taking a cue from nearly every other game I've ever played, I thoroughly explore the bathroom. One never knows where a useful powerup will be hidden.

Sinks, hot tubs, showers...nothing seems to be particularly useful. Oh, look - more toilets! This time, it's the sit-down model. An onscreen popup informs me that, if I want, I'm able to pee some more.

No thanks.

As I turn away from the toilet, I see the popup message change for just an instant. What was that? Could it be a hidden gun, like in The Godfather? Carefully, I re-orient the camera to get the popup back. Sure enough, it says "(X button) Grab." Obliginly, I press the X Button.

Oh, no. No. That did NOT just happen.

It happened all right.

I just grabbed a turd. I'm holding a fistful of poop. Somebody else's poop. I'm still wondering what possessed the people behind this game to make it possible for me to take a turd out of a toilet when I hear a familiar sound and see a new message appear on my screen.

I just unlocked an achievement for picking up a turd.

Believe it or not, it actually gets worse. Duke Nukem Forever is plagued by badly dated mechanics, poorly designed minigames, and a script that was clearly written by the sort of mouth-breathing neanderthals who still chuckle like Butt-Head every time they hear the word "boob."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I suddenly feel the need to take a shower.