Category Archives: Other Interests

The most fun I’ve ever had

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lava“You fell in the lava!”

I’ve said this countless times in childhood, pretending that some particular surface was “lava” and everywhere else was safe.

“The lava is good for your health,” my cousin Johnny would say when he wanted us to fail at a game so that his turn would come faster.

Occasionally, when taking a walk with my wife, I still insist that the grass is lava and see if I can’t nudge her off the sidewalk and into the impending mortal doom of…walking on soft grass.

This simple and universally understood game was the inspiration for my second adventure in Spore galactic adventures:

You’re marooned on a planet of…well, you know…and the heat is interfering with your transporter signal. Fortunately, it just so happens that there are a series of platforms and jump pads in front of you which can lead you to the safety of high ground! That is…if you can navigate them successfully and not plummet to your fiery demise.

Platformers have been a crowd favorite almost as long as video games have existed, and one of my personal favorites is the all-too-rare breed of 3D platformer, successfully realized in Mario 64.

But if I thought playing a 3D platformer level was fun, it has nothing on designing one — at least not for a creative mind like mine. Deciding just how high to place each platform, just how large the landing area has to be, and just how highly powered each jump pad is were just of a few of the things I enjoyed about the process.

The most brilliant aspect of Spore GA is that when you’re adventure building, the playtest button is right in the editor, and takes literally zero time to load. Wonder how your jump pad will work? Hit ‘play’ and find out.

I spent hours at this, making certain the level I built was difficult, even intimidating, but beatable. Like most platformers, if you know exactly what to do and where to go, it’s far easier than stepping into it for the first time.

But the real reward came when I had finished the adventure and got to see my wife play it the first time through. Her exclamations of delight and frustration were more rewarding to me than just playing a video game ever has been — and if you know me, you know that’s saying a lot. The infuriated look she gave me when an apparently “safe” platform warped her back to the beginning of the level was so priceless it sent me into gales of laughter.

So far, more than 40 people have played the adventure, and it has a well-liked rating in spite of the fact it is also ranked in the highest difficulty class. And I have already all but forgotten my first Spore GA creation, a plot-based mini-RPG with 11 different goals across 8 acts instead of just one. But if I had to guess at this point, I’d wager I’ll be building more platformers than stories.

Avoiding lava, especially while flying high through the air in inhuman leaps and bounds, is just plain fun.

The other-other hobby: Confessions of a jack of all trades, master of none.

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Black Fender Telecaster with maple fretboardAwhile back I bought a Fender Squire used from craig’s list, with a 10-watt crate amp in the deal.

It sounds like shit.

Lesson learned: You get what you pay for. Squiers are cheap knock-offs for a reason.

I put that Squier on its stand and never played it after the first few days. Every now and then, I’d take it back out, tune it, and put it back within five minutes.

Later my father-in-law bought an off-brand guitar with a beautiful full sound to it and smooth fretboard. Color me jealous.

After playing his guitar, I thought to myself, “Man…if my guitar sounded like that, and played that smoothly, I’d probably practice all the time.” But I didn’t have the kind of money he’d spent, even though it still wasn’t even a top of the line guitar.

Thus when a co-worker announced his Fender Telecaster was for sale, I sighed to myself and thought, “Yeah, if only.”

But after a couple of days, I thought, “Why the hell not?”

I spoke to the wife about borrowing money from savings against some of my future allowance, to which she agreed. My co-worker brought the Telecaster to work with an amp one Friday for me to try it out.

Two pickups, maple fretboard, and a clean, precise, sharp sound even further enhanced by installed vintage Telecaster pickups.

Plus it was shiny. Oh so shiny.

I took it home that day.

I was right; where I can’t stand to play the Squier for more than a couple minutes before I get disgusted, I can hardly put the Telecaster down.

 Just over the weekend, I’ve already added multiple songs to repertoire, including Extreme’s ballad “More Than Words”, and “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen, popularly covered by Jeff Buckley, Rufus Wainwright, and others.

I’m slowly working on Cliffs of Dover (Eric Johnson), but that’s going to be a long time coming. I’ve just started practicing my pentatonic and blues scales so that I can perform riffs better, since those have always been my weak point.

Best of all, I’m starting to write music again.

Valek’s Story

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I am playing a bard in our new Dungeons and Dragons campaign. His story follows.

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The first gurgling of her infant child was the last sound heard by Daria before she died, never knowing that she had borne a son.

The Erdridar tribe named the boy child Valek, and on Valek’s behalf they swore two oaths: To raise him faithfully in the absence of his mother, and to avenge her death against the human father who sired him. None knew why Daria took the secret of her human lover with her to the grave; most assumed she had been raped.

The tribe delighted in raising Valek, and were charmed by his human qualities; rampant inquisitiveness and curiosity. The boy asked so many questions that his guardians began to tease, “Don’t you know already?” And so Valek would pretend he did, inventing stories which suited him and delighted his elders.

Thus Valek’s tale of a flying ship was taken for imagination for two full days, until a ship actually descended from the clouds to alight upon the outskirts of tribal soil. The tribe’s warriors approached the craft with caution, and Valek’s curiosity did not permit him to remain far behind.

A proud human descended the gangplank, dressed in strange robes which gave no protection from the elements. He gazed unflinchingly at dozens of Elvish bows trained on him, and announced:

“I have come for my son.”

The only reply was wind whispering through the trees and the grass. But if any present could divine its secrets, none spoke. Eventually Chief Tirol turned to young Valek and rose an inquisitive eyebrow.

Valek came forward, the others parting before him to clear the way. He addressed the robed man boldly:

“You may have bedded an elf maiden, but what makes you think she bore a son?”

The man turned a palm up and colors swirled in the air over his hand. He looked Valek in the eye.

“I have seen it.”

“The boy is ours,” replied Chief Tirol. “We raised him, we taught him, and we love him. It is thanks to you that Daria is dead. If you value your life, you may depart now.”

Without warning, lightning crackled from the ship’s deck, and Tirol fell to the ground dead, his body charred and smoking with an aroma like overcooked sweet-pork.

“Peace!” the robed man said, addressing his shipmates and the assembled elves.

“These elf heathens may not threaten my crew,” a staunch and ornamented man said from the deck, presumably the captain.

Seeing his mentors about to let fly their arrows, all consequences be damned, Valek spoke out:

“Stop!” He addressed the man claiming to be his father. “What is your name, tyrant?”

The man looked crestfallen at the accusation, but all he said was, “I am called Brad.”

“I am the son of Daria, Brad. I will go with you if you leave my tribe in peace.” The elves murmured at this, conflicted. Valek’s fate would be uncertain among these human barbarians, but they knew Valek’s bravery might well save their lives.

“Done,” said Brad, and turned ascended the gangplank, expecting Valek to follow.

“You will see me again soon,” Valek promised his true fathers and brothers. Then he, too, ascended the ship, which carried him away to the sky.

Three years passed before Valek returned to his tribe, broader of shoulder and deeper of voice than any remembered; his human blood advanced him beyond his years. To his stories, he now added music; drums of battle, vocal ballads and laments, but everyone’s favorite was Valek’s handheld harp, somehow sounding both hopefully bright and infinitely sad. His songs and stories were literally enchanting, infused with the sorcery he’d learned among the humans to make his audience drowsy or alert, soothed or angered, triumphant or sorrowed.

He related a hundred tales learned from the humans, or seen in his travels, or made up entirely. But the one story Valek never told was how things ended with his father, or how Valek had come to live among his people again.

But neighboring tribes had heard the rumor of a flying ship which fell burning into the ocean. When asked whether this rumor was true, or whether he’d had anything to do with it, Valek only replied, “Don’t you know already?”