Tomorrow I depart sunny Los Angeles for stormy Atlanta, and once there I get to finally start working again. Ten weeks “off” was nice and all, but after the first two or three without much to do, I get fidgety. I doubt the hotel I’ll be staying in, for the first few days at least, will have decent net access, so this could be the last update until later this week.

I’ll try to start taking some photos when I get over to Georgia, too. There has to be something interesting to see in the area. Right, guys? Right?

Going to the South, though, is a little weird. It’s the one region of the US I’ve never actually set foot in, which means visiting will be cool, but it also means all I have to go on right now are a raft of more-than-likely unfair stereotypes. But I do like cornbread, so it’s got that going for it.

I spent a few hours over the last couple days dinking with a few things. First and foremost, thanks to J-Bla of American Hooligans for the work on my banner logo. If you’re not seeing text up top, hard-refresh the page (hold CTRL on Windows, CMD on OSX). I also installed an anti-spam plug-in, so if you have trouble posting comments or something, e-mail me. There’s a few more things behind the scenes, but those haven’t been employed outside of a testing context yet.

Anyway, things are running pretty smoothly, so if my “closed beta” guys don’t report issues over the next week, I think it’ll be time to take this sucker public. Excitement!

You know, I’ve been around the Internet for a long time. I practically grew up on the damn thing. After a while, photoshopped cats, speedo-clad Turks and other, altogether less wholesome items cease to elicit even a wince. But the Tubedwellers never rest, ceaselessly laboring to bring you something fresh and bizarre from the depths of the Great Cyberian WTF Mines.

Today I bring you a pimp suit. That’s not so bad, is it? Well, I forgot to mention that it’s sized for kids. The best part are the customer reviews. Here’s some excerpts.

D.A. Williams:
Teaching your children the value of money and business sense is never easy. However, with the introduction of the smaller size pimp suit they can learn how to start their own business without even leaving their own neighbourhood. The people management skills this encourages are a vital start in any young man’s life.

Heinsby:
My son was really set on going as a rapist this last halloween, but we waited too long to get to the costume store and so we were stuck with this or Darth Vader. Once I explained what a pimp does, he chose this one and we couldn’t be happier. He wears it around the house all the time! Only downside was that we had to explain to him he couldn’t wear blackface that came with the costume because that would be offensive. You would think the company would know not to include that makeup in 2008…

Emphases mine.

Looks like another film titan has decided to try for a bite of the gaming pie. I’m not normally one to read Variety, but that’s where the announcement came out: Paramount will be opening a new wing in its “interactive” division, focused on publishing video games they partially or fully fund. Naturally, they’re headed to the land towards which all money flows these days - casual and mobile gaming.

This modest initial mission is actually a good and studied move for a new entrant into The Industry; they can quietly get some experience, traction and operating revenue before diving headlong into the potentially-dry creek-bed of big-budget blockbusters. They’ve clearly learned from certain less fortunate traditional media companies whose forays into Interactive ended in outcomes that could be considered less than auspicious.

On the other hand, this is also an entertainment giant pushing into a space that’s currently a breeding ground for smaller, independent success stories; casual games gave us Pop Cap and friends. I have to wonder if this move might start a trend that gobbles up what would otherwise have been fertile ground for gaming startups. Given that Paramount seems primarily interested in monetizing their own existing properties, that fear may be unfounded - for the moment.

They’re definitely serious, though. While their histories are not the most impressive, Matt Candler seems to have passed through several development houses on his way to the top and their new external licensing exec, Luke Letiza, came from Sega. Not exactly the heavyweight it once was, but it still carries considerable clout in the console market.

There’s also an interesting bit farther down in the article, regarding the attitudes of film execs.

Though such moves are financially risky, an increasing number of studio execs think that getting more involved in vidgames (sic) based on their movies will help them to ensure quality as well as move faster without having to wait for a publisher to become interested and make a deal.

Emphasis mine. I’m not sure which way to take that remark, but it could be a signal that the film industry is tiring of the mimeographed movie tie-ins that get stamped out by the less illustrious members of our profession. Cynically, it could also just mean they don’t want to pay someone else to develop the things, so they can keep more of the potential profits.

Via Gaming Insider.

I don’t know about you, but I like my humor black as jet and desert-dry. I also happen to enjoy quirky British screenplays shot in unusual locations. Perhaps that’s why In Bruges, a recently-released Noir Brit-Com, had me tickled.

Now, first, a word on cinema. One of the things Los Angeles has going for it is the sheer diversity of theaters. You can find your mallplex outlets filled with texting teens and screaming babies and you have your indie arthouses showing third-run Lithuanian art films from the mid-Eighties. What most other cities don’t have, though, is the equivalent of the ArcLight. It can only be described as a tier above the “Deluxe” theaters some major cities have started opening. Excusing the shitty computer analogy, the Arclight is the freon-cooled multi-proc quad-core solid-state megabeast rig of moviegoing. It is the only theater I’m capable of going to any more, having relied on it for my silver screen excursions while I lived here in years past. With vigilant ushers, no pre-movie advertising and assigned (ultra-cushy) seating, it is the screening-house Jesus would build if he were a film magnate on a mission from the Almighty.

This is where I viewed In Bruges, and the reverent silence and cooperative laughter from the slightly-higher-brow-than-average crowd may have assisted the experience. Cinema is meant to be collective entertainment and the proper audience goes a long way towards making the most of your ticket, as any Rocky Horror veteran will no doubt attempt to convince you.

It also helps that the screenplay is downright brilliantly funny, and, further, well-balanced between dark comedy and the drama necessary to propel the story forward. With most films, the structured divisions of Act I, Act II and Act III are quite transparent. In Bruges beautifully toys with the formula; despite having drank a full pint immediately before the film, I sat through straight to the credits simply because, for the latter half of the movie, I could not honestly tell if it was going to end in five minutes or thirty. The story climaxes perfectly - and I’ll spare you the obvious metaphors - with a series of escalating peaks over the course of about half an hour.

The casting is also excellent. Irish hitmen Ray and Ken, portrayed by Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, respectively, work very well together. Both project the perfect indifference or enthusiasm in each scene required for the Odd Couple gags to fly. Ralph Fiennes is superb as the sophisticated, sinister English gangster employing the main characters.

The location of Bruges is ideal for the film. Far enough off the beaten cinematic path to avoid any expectations or the curse of familiarity, Bruges itself should elicit some interest from wanderers-at-heart as well as the simply curious, and the small size of the city center is tailored for this sort of story, allowing the characters to split apart and run back into each other at the most comically opportune moments. Further, the rich history on display can be, and is, woven intimately into the story, providing a consistently interesting backdrop to the humorous foreground.

Recommendation: See it, now if you’re into dark British comedy, on DVD if you’re not.

Britain’s Sky One network recently broadcast their live-action adaptations of Terry Pratchett’s first two Discworld novels, The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic. Until very recently, I would have considered novels with such a breadth of imagination to require visual work that could well run into the tens of millions of dollars. Fortunately, our modern world is much kinder on the screen-artist, and it should be possible to do justice to the Disc. With further thanks to modern technology, I’ve gotten a chance to screen the pair of ninety-minute adaptations myself.

For those unfamiliar with the subject matter, I will neither humor you nor belabor the point. If you can’t be arsed to run to the local bookshop and pick up a few Pratchett novels, then you can very well knock off right now. Or at least visit the Wikipedia entry, which should really only be a precursor to performing the very act described one run-on sentence ago.

All read up? Good.

The first thing to note about Sky One’s presentation is that it is truly and lovingly crafted with reverence and care taken towards the source material. While it’s been a few years since I’ve read the books in question, everything seemed quite in-place and matched up with recalled descriptions of events and personalities. No expense is seemingly spared on costumes, with a richly varied and deliciously distinctive wardrobe provided for each of the characters. The sets are, likewise, lusciously lavish, and the oh-so-required CG generally blending well into the live-action portions of the stage. The whole thing is shot in 1080i HD, which looked quite beautiful on my laptop screen.

Another great surprise for this television adaptation lies in the cast, particularly the leading roles. The chemistry between Sean Astin (yes, the Samwise Gamgee Sean Astin) as Twoflower and Sir David Jason (he’s a notable British actor I’ve not heard of prior) as Rincewind is astounding. Astin’s American accent and affect set him beautifully apart from the absurdly British Ankh-Morporkians, while David Jason is incredible at bouncing between exasperation, resignation and pants-wetting terror. I’m honestly surprised to have not encountered someone of Sir Jason’s caliber before.

The supporting cast is also excellent. Tim Curry stands out as the devilishly ambitious Trymon, and Jeremy Irons is visually well-placed as Lord Vetinari, although I might suggest he work on the accent a bit. Lisping does not quite project the cold, calculating, hard-assed image I’d expect from the Patrician. The CG Death was pretty good, although I still prefer the cartoon Death from the old animated Soul Music adaptation to this one; it was a bit too “realistic” and tended to look like a man in a plastic mask at times. You can also spot cameos from Pratchett himself - he’s a bald, white-bearded astronomer whose appearances bookend the broadcast.

There were a few omissions from the novels - I noticed was the absence of Ysabelle and the Dungeon Dimensions - but on the whole it was an immensely enjoyable three-hour package. I’ll have to pick up some more Discworld novels for the flight to Atlanta. On the whole, though, I have no serious complaints.

Recommendation: See it now. Difficult, yes, but I do hope Sky One hurries along the release of a DVD or, better yet, some form of HD media. And also hurry along with more Discworld adaptations. I hear they’ve done Hogfather in the past and will be doing Going Postal for 2009. Adapt Mort and Reaper Man while you’re at it.

Also known as ‘The Arc‘ and located, eponymously, in scorching Arcadia, California, I had pretty high hopes that this would be a good gym for bouldering while I’m stuck in LA. Unfortunately, I went at high Noon, at the apogee of the inland desert heat. This made for a less-than-sterling experience, but I did still manage to eke out an hour before tearing some skin.

The gym itself is a semi-hidden affair, a small warehouse behind a physical therapy center off a divided avenue in affluent Arcadia. There’s a bit of parking available, but it proved to be a non-issue as mine was one of two vehicles occupying the half-dozen spaces closest to the building. A low-slung edifice, one would never know it was a climbing gym, as opposed to, say, a garment warehouse, were it not for the open garage-style doors on either end, revealing plasticine rocks and padded mats instead of stacked sweaters. Large letters in the rear also identify it, although this does not help the casual passerby attempting to locate the damn place.

The staff was politely friendly and a day pass was a reasonable 15 dollars. Upon inquiring, I was informed that there exist no real lockers, nor a locker room. The restrooms are available for changing purposes, but that’s about it. There’s the first warning flag. After donning my shoes and chalk bag, I scanned the walls for a good starting point.

ARC is a pretty traditional medium-sized bouldering-focused gym inside. Nondescript blue carpeting, affixed to a half-inch or inch of firm padding; super-firm black crash pads everywhere. The east and west sides hold the colored plastic rocks, which are mounted on faux-rock-finished wooden backboards. North and south are the large garage doors, which are mercifully kept open, allowing the sporadic Inland Empire breezes to moderate the swelter within. The gym is about fifty paces and vaguely square.

While most of it appeared to be boulder-centric, the northwestern section, which had a large arete protruding a good fifteen paces towards the center of the room, was kitted out for some short sport-leading. The gym, on whole, is not very tall - five meters or so, perhaps six in the leading area. A bit higher than I’m normally comfortable bouldering, but not terrible. Most of the walls have a considerable degree of incline to them, from moderate to severe. I was disappointed to find rather few vertical, balancing-heavy problems. Most seemed more about good grip and proper incline technique.

There were quite a large number of routes available on each wall, with a decent difficulty spread between V0 and V6; the highest I noticed was a V12, but I wasn’t particularly looking that high. I also saw a VB. Unfortunately, the gym seems to be at a loss when it comes to consistently marking routes. Some are entirely determined by the color of the rock, while others are taped with a variety of schemes. Some routes are single-color taped, others are marked by a pair of colored tapes, while still others have colored tape with a symbol drawn on it.

I found the difficulty of the routes at ARC strange. V1s I could conquer without issue; they were, for the most part, unchallenging. The V2s I tried, however, were extremely difficult. I don’t recall finishing a single one, and could get to the three-quarter mark at farthest. The grips were smaller than I would expect for a V2, the reaches longer and the footholds sparser. Having not climbed in the area before, my recent illness, and a month of not climbing could all also have made them more difficult than I would expect.

I climbed for about an hour, but towards the end the heat was getting to me. When a particularly sharp rock sliced into my left middle finger, scraping off a dime-sized chunk of flesh at the third joint, I decided to call it for the day. In the end, I wasn’t particularly impressed with this smaller-sized gym. If it was nearby, I might consider going again, but the 30-minute drive and heat don’t endear it to me. One good note, especially considering the environs, is that a half-liter of bottled water is only a dollar.

Recommendation: Pass. Hopefully there are other, better gyms in the LA area that I’ve yet to discover.

This ‘burg is a curious beast. I lived here nary three years. And when I left? Sick, and sick to death, I was of it. Still, here I find myself, on layover between San Francisco and Atlanta - a new world and an old, or so I would imagine the lack of parity. Reliving all the slights and inadequacies I recall from that lost trilogy of annualities can only make one wax philosophical. Or, at least, sophistical.

Today, a particular conjunction struck me as extraordinarily metaphoric of the City of Los Angeles and the bizarre subset of humanity that chooses to call it home. A conjunction involving a rump of pork, frosted and roasted in a most commercial fashion.

(more…)

I received official notification today that the State of California, and by proxy the United States of America, has no relevant judicial records of me and I am, therefore, certifiably Not A Terrorist.

That, along with a quarter-ream of documents, has been made airborne, starting the countdown on my work visa and the unlocking of the final stage in the Men From Sky World Tour. I think I need to win another 260,000 fans in Rock Band as well, but that can be cleared up later.

Getting the official notification officially notarized was an interesting experience. The Notary doesn’t usually get people certifying their lack of criminality, apparently, and it took a good while to locate the appropriate Affirmation form. There, I had to hand-write a statement declaring that, not only am I Not A Terrorist, but, yes, the presented document is, in fact, my authentic and genuine Not A Terrorist Declaration from the State. Accompanied, of course, by a separate affirmation that I am Me, along with thumb-print.

Regardless, the path is clear for traveling to Atlanta, which I intend to do in the first few days of April.

This isn’t a debate I normally want to get deep into - I had enough of that shit when I was, oh, fifteen - but there’s an interview with Alex St. John (he made DirectX) up on ExtremeTech that’s worth reading, viz. Consoles as We Know Them are Gone. Also, Part the Second, Vista Blows.

The interesting bits here, aside from the obvious Nerdrage Against The Machine, are the comments that WoW is only successful because of community, that consoles attempting to provide community features will fail at the attempt, and that consoles are primarily Orwellian DRM Nightmares made Flesh PCB. There’s also some grist about onboard video chips.

Most of these are stances I don’t necessarily agree with, aside from the tautological first statement, but it’s an interesting take from a rather knowledgeable individual. That said, I think he’s missing a few things, especially the massive added value of Convenience that consoles serve up.

And boy, do we consumers love paying for convenience. Just ask the CEO of McDonald’s. That is, if he can hear your inquiry through four-foot walls of solid, engraved gold.

Via F13.