My head is bleeding call a doctor for my head, a head doctor, a doctor head...I smell coffee...

• 12Sep 07

  Oh, yeah... About Shadowrun...

  Where do Microsoft and FASA Studios get off turning an excellent RPG into a "Halo with Magic"? Can anyone answer that for me? Has someone already asked this question? Am I living in a world where not only movie studios destroy old films but where software companies take old franchises and tear them to pieces?

  Where did it all go wrong? Was it the fact that the original Shadowrun had absolutely no multiplayer for "Brahs" to enjoy over a case of Natty Ice? Weren't post-apocalyptic zombies, cyberpunk glam girls and shotgun wielding minotaur thugs enough? Not to mention the fact that danger personified awaits you down every water-damaged alley, with a knife up her sleeve and a cigarette perched on blood-stained teeth. Wasn't that enough? No, you have to run around a high poly Quake 3 map with weapons you bought from the Counter Strike Buy HUD. Nevermind giving the rest of us a solid first person adventure game in the seedy parallel universe between Fern Gully and Blade Runner. Nevermind making a more accessible RPG to kids that need (desperately) to learn to appreciate the importance of story, plot and dialogue. Microsoft decided to make something accessible to a wily consumer base of oversexed hormone(and Monster) driven young adults in the attempt to capitalize on the further dumbing down of the first person shooter and the gaming community in general. Where the new gamer is no longer the disaffected youth looking for escape, but the beer swilling bully with the word "f*g" ready to drop out of his mouth with the least amount of provocation.

  I'm glad there are games like Bioshock out there to make it all better, but to sink as low as turning something that was once a great experience that taught you that hard work and resourcefulness pays off, is now a run and gun shooter with the very base elements of the original included only as novelty.

  And I said good day.

  • Posted Sep 12, 2007 12:13 am PT
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• 11Sep 07

  Prodigal Son Returns, regret and guilt to ensue

  It's been too long, but that's what they always say. They say it to soften the blow of their return, like their coming back is going to be that easy. It's a human thing, I don't feel like I have to understand it, I just feel the need to empathize.

  I'm a little dismayed to see that nothing has really changed, but maybe I haven't dug deep enough into the wound.

  Out here in California I made it a point to slam headfirst into it all: Dr*gs, S*x, B**ze, Interpersonal Relationships, Goth/Industrial Club Scene, the whole gamut seen through the naive eyes of an anti-social suburbanite. I'm only 19 though, so I better not brace myself just yet, no use getting knocked down when you can just sit on the floor for awhile.

  I've been in the presence of so much wasted youth, so much squandered talent, and marred beauty that it can brings tears to my eyes to be without it, even for a second. I've seen a friend fall into drugs and another claw her way out. I have been betrayed and have slung libel, none of which ended well. There are no bragging rights here, just a line by which I hang my failures and shortcomings to avoid falling too quickly into the pit of boredom and ignorance that is the college dorm.

  It gets to you after a while, it all becomes predictable and pale, an imitation of adulthood. I should really get a LiveJournal account if I'm going to whine this much though.

  • Posted Sep 11, 2007 11:35 pm PT
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• 29Jun 07

  Sedate my will to live

  I'm at the edge of a nervous breakdown after five days on a pysch-ward. Having hospitalized myself five days ago, I felt a little better day by day. Even though the fear of falling into a psychedelic state where color, shape, form, emotion and tone become the only thing I see, I still feel as though I'm losing my mind to my imagination. No longer perceiving reality straight on, I feel as though I'm in a mirror, a reflection thats been tilted ever so slightly to reveal even the most inane truths. I'm losing the confidence in my perception of reality, in so far, the sound of my voice and my body language. Whatever's happening to me is slowly devouring my ability to write fiction. I can't help but complain and analyze my own illness, work becomes such a boring and repetitive task of forming characters from stale philosophical clay. My socil skills are failing, my stare is becoming glazed and blank. I don't want my life to end, but I want this horror to stop. One night with DXM and my brain is permanently damaged. Where am I supposed to go when I can't reach out anymore and my mind repulses social contact, meeting it with fear and paranoia? Work on it? Yeah, just work on it.
  • Posted Jun 29, 2007 8:47 am PT
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