Part of me says that any game where you pay money to get in, and then run around fighting random number generators to get stuff that you can then exchange for real money when you leave, is really just a clever disguise for an online gambling casino.
Its just like buying chips and cashing out, ain't it?
But then there's another part of me that says a game is sorta like a farm, where you can grow your own stuff and sell it.
And then there's another part of me that says a game is like a movie theatre, where you are just supposed to be renting a seat and enjoying the entertainment.
But even with that you got scalpers selling their seats heh.
Anywhich one of these can be full of cheating by the company running the place, 'cause the guys running the game can just magically produce as much as they want of anything in the game.
Well, except for entertainment, I guess ahaha.
So let's just say, for the sake of argument, that I'm totally cool with players making money in online games, and that there's just no way in hell to get around this mess *rolls his one good eye*
Like, what do you guys actually spend all this money that you're making on for fun?
Y'know, for entertainment.
Let's do that ahaha.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Feedback Loop
Dude, I am not gonna sit there and play any of these games where we gotta click on advertising links for points or whatever.
I'm just gonna hire some poor kid in a sweatshop in a third world country to do that for me.
I'm just gonna hire some poor kid in a sweatshop in a third world country to do that for me.
Its Like Shoes
Dude, 'member when we got new shoes when we were kids and we thought they made us run faster?
And you'd put your shoes on for the first time and you'd feel this sudden rush of power and excitement.
And you'd take off like a comet and tear all around the yard.
And you'd be all like, "hey mom! look at me! look at how fast I can run now!"
And you'd think of ways you could use your newfound super speed to help people.
And you'd be all lit up and happy to be there like Gene Wilder.
And then somehow that got ruined.
Somebody told you something that made you decide that's not how it worked anymore.
Mebbe it was your momma, trying to teach you to be more serious.
Mebbe it was some miserable-ass know-it-all wise guy that just hated seeing you so happy.
Mebbe it was the bad kids smoking cigarettes behind the schoolhouse.
Misery loves company y'know.
And so the magic in your shoes died.
And now, when you put on your shoes, there's no power in them.
They're a curse of science and mathematics upon you.
Something dark and heavy to trap your feet in.
Just another lifeless burden to carry along with you, more equipment to drag through the dirt of the wastelands, armor to protect your feet from hypodermic needles and barbed wire and bits of broken glass.
All that negativty stuck to you and weighed you down.
But all you need to do is find some soft green grass.
And you can take your shoes off.
And run faster.
For real.
Suddenly its like you've come out of a dark tunnel.
And shed your curse.
And let the weight of your armor fall away from you.
'Cause you don't need your armor here.
And you realized how the magic really works.
Without shoes.
'Course your feet are all gross and gnarly by then.
And their magic is weak.
From all the years they were kept in captivity.
'Cause of something somebody said to sell you those shoes that would make you run faster, back when you were a kid.
And 'cause of something I said while I was smoking with the bad kids behind the schoolhouse, back when I was a kid.
And 'cause of all the hypodermic needles and barbed wire and bits of broken glass in the wasteland.
And the general lack of soft green grass.
But whatever.
Better late than never, right?
And you never would've appreciated it.
Like you do now.
After walking all those miles.
In your own shoes.
And you'd put your shoes on for the first time and you'd feel this sudden rush of power and excitement.
And you'd take off like a comet and tear all around the yard.
And you'd be all like, "hey mom! look at me! look at how fast I can run now!"
And you'd think of ways you could use your newfound super speed to help people.
And you'd be all lit up and happy to be there like Gene Wilder.
And then somehow that got ruined.
Somebody told you something that made you decide that's not how it worked anymore.
Mebbe it was your momma, trying to teach you to be more serious.
Mebbe it was some miserable-ass know-it-all wise guy that just hated seeing you so happy.
Mebbe it was the bad kids smoking cigarettes behind the schoolhouse.
Misery loves company y'know.
And so the magic in your shoes died.
And now, when you put on your shoes, there's no power in them.
They're a curse of science and mathematics upon you.
Something dark and heavy to trap your feet in.
Just another lifeless burden to carry along with you, more equipment to drag through the dirt of the wastelands, armor to protect your feet from hypodermic needles and barbed wire and bits of broken glass.
All that negativty stuck to you and weighed you down.
But all you need to do is find some soft green grass.
And you can take your shoes off.
And run faster.
For real.
Suddenly its like you've come out of a dark tunnel.
And shed your curse.
And let the weight of your armor fall away from you.
'Cause you don't need your armor here.
And you realized how the magic really works.
Without shoes.
'Course your feet are all gross and gnarly by then.
And their magic is weak.
From all the years they were kept in captivity.
'Cause of something somebody said to sell you those shoes that would make you run faster, back when you were a kid.
And 'cause of something I said while I was smoking with the bad kids behind the schoolhouse, back when I was a kid.
And 'cause of all the hypodermic needles and barbed wire and bits of broken glass in the wasteland.
And the general lack of soft green grass.
But whatever.
Better late than never, right?
And you never would've appreciated it.
Like you do now.
After walking all those miles.
In your own shoes.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Ramen Pride
I'd just like to take a moment to give thanks to Mister Ramen and all the hard working people at his fine company for this delicious meal of Dried Noodles and delightful Chicken Flavor that they've prepared for me.
Its pretty rare to get a fresh batch of Ramen Noodles this far from Maruchan but I'll be damned if this isn't the freshest and finest batch of Ramen Noodles that I've ever tasted.
And I've tasted a lot of your noodles over all these years.
Even the packet of Chicken Flavor was all soft and tender!
Seriously, man, I believe in giving credit when its due, and my hat is off to you folks and your delivery men, you've really outdone yourselves this time, it has truly been a pleasure to put your product in my mouth, a pleasure to savor each and every tiny clash of trembling texture and form and the ten thousand neurological stimulations and taste sensations it provides me with, and a pleasure to swallow it.
You have my thanks.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I really ought to go and clean myself up.
Its pretty rare to get a fresh batch of Ramen Noodles this far from Maruchan but I'll be damned if this isn't the freshest and finest batch of Ramen Noodles that I've ever tasted.
And I've tasted a lot of your noodles over all these years.
Even the packet of Chicken Flavor was all soft and tender!
Seriously, man, I believe in giving credit when its due, and my hat is off to you folks and your delivery men, you've really outdone yourselves this time, it has truly been a pleasure to put your product in my mouth, a pleasure to savor each and every tiny clash of trembling texture and form and the ten thousand neurological stimulations and taste sensations it provides me with, and a pleasure to swallow it.
You have my thanks.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I really ought to go and clean myself up.
And the Skies Are Not Cloudy Enough
You know what I wish there was?
A game company that was a farm or a cattle ranch or some kinda log cabin lumberjack place where we could grow our own food or chop wood or something hard-workng and constructive and honest like that, some kind of work we could be proud of, during the day, with game crap to work on at night.
Yah, something sorta like a commune, I guess, but with cowboy junk and sawdust and game-making insteada all the creepy hoodoo stuff.
Yah none of that hoodoo junk, none of that sociological experimental this-and-that, just cowboy and camping and game making stuff.
Just some kinda low-tech day high-tech night place, throw our laptops in our saddlebags and off we go.
Dude, if there was something like that, I'd go.
I don't even care what country its in as long as its just mundane things like snakes and scorpions and crocodiles and sharks and pterodactyls and giant spiders that're gonna try to kill us.
Yah I don't even care if its a village made out of bamboo rafts or something on the ocean, man.
I'll eat fish and bugs-of-the-sea and stringy bits of seaweed and driftwood and baby seals and dolphins if that's all there is.
Yah, saturday nights we could go into town and patronize the local ale repositories and terrorize the locals with all our psychic powers c'mon seriously man that'd be awesome.
Dude it ain't like we all ain't had jobs where we had to work three months straight without any days off in the dimly lit tombs of human resources with no windows to open and the stink of bitter death and dead hopes and whatever-they-wetted-the-carpets-with burning in our eyes.
And there wasn't even no "good parts" to that shit, I don't even remember what we were doing there in the first place!
And all of it was for what?
So some cologne-drenched fratboys with fake suntans and the personalities of plastic lawn ornaments could run around in their white khaki shorts and ruin the world with their half-conscious and barely sentient buzzword-guessing conversations on a golf course?
We could've been saving the world!
Yah, hard work and more hard work, boys, that's what you need to save the world, working for your own purposes, hard-living, honest work, being your own men, getting your bodies and minds back into shape!
If only this cruel and evil world hadn't left me sunlight-intolerant and morality-challenged and hypersensitive to sound I'd totally be into all that hard-work day-and-night save-the-world stuff with you guys.
Yah, just leave my breakfast and some bullets and a canteen of something powerful to kill the pain within reach of my sleeping bag, I'm done for, you boys are going to have to go on without me.
Hopefully I'll be able to reach deep down inside of myself and find the strength of character required to listen to myself eat a bit of this "grub" without fainting.
I'll buy you guys all the time I can but I'm saving this last bullet so I can put an extra one in whoever wakes me up next.
A game company that was a farm or a cattle ranch or some kinda log cabin lumberjack place where we could grow our own food or chop wood or something hard-workng and constructive and honest like that, some kind of work we could be proud of, during the day, with game crap to work on at night.
Yah, something sorta like a commune, I guess, but with cowboy junk and sawdust and game-making insteada all the creepy hoodoo stuff.
Yah none of that hoodoo junk, none of that sociological experimental this-and-that, just cowboy and camping and game making stuff.
Just some kinda low-tech day high-tech night place, throw our laptops in our saddlebags and off we go.
Dude, if there was something like that, I'd go.
I don't even care what country its in as long as its just mundane things like snakes and scorpions and crocodiles and sharks and pterodactyls and giant spiders that're gonna try to kill us.
Yah I don't even care if its a village made out of bamboo rafts or something on the ocean, man.
I'll eat fish and bugs-of-the-sea and stringy bits of seaweed and driftwood and baby seals and dolphins if that's all there is.
Yah, saturday nights we could go into town and patronize the local ale repositories and terrorize the locals with all our psychic powers c'mon seriously man that'd be awesome.
Dude it ain't like we all ain't had jobs where we had to work three months straight without any days off in the dimly lit tombs of human resources with no windows to open and the stink of bitter death and dead hopes and whatever-they-wetted-the-carpets-with burning in our eyes.
And there wasn't even no "good parts" to that shit, I don't even remember what we were doing there in the first place!
And all of it was for what?
So some cologne-drenched fratboys with fake suntans and the personalities of plastic lawn ornaments could run around in their white khaki shorts and ruin the world with their half-conscious and barely sentient buzzword-guessing conversations on a golf course?
We could've been saving the world!
Yah, hard work and more hard work, boys, that's what you need to save the world, working for your own purposes, hard-living, honest work, being your own men, getting your bodies and minds back into shape!
If only this cruel and evil world hadn't left me sunlight-intolerant and morality-challenged and hypersensitive to sound I'd totally be into all that hard-work day-and-night save-the-world stuff with you guys.
Yah, just leave my breakfast and some bullets and a canteen of something powerful to kill the pain within reach of my sleeping bag, I'm done for, you boys are going to have to go on without me.
Hopefully I'll be able to reach deep down inside of myself and find the strength of character required to listen to myself eat a bit of this "grub" without fainting.
I'll buy you guys all the time I can but I'm saving this last bullet so I can put an extra one in whoever wakes me up next.
Old School
I've read MMOG Nation for a long time.
But I didn't know it was "Michael Zenke" typing all the stuff over there.
I just always thought of that place as "the MMOG Nation Guy's Place" heh.
It took me a while to put it all together y'know?
I had to like, get all Sherlock Holmes and stuff.
And I hate having to do that Sherlock Holmes kinda thing, man, 'cause it reminds me of this boss I had that wanted me to marry his daughter, and he was totally cool in that old-fashioned Zoot Suit classy hip-cat kinda way, he used to be the front man for some swing band or something back in the olden times when everything was still in Black and White, but he had this Film Noir thingie going on where he was always trying to get me to help him solve mysteries like that whole OJ Simpson deal y'know as if we could actually do that THROUGH A TELEVISION SET heh.
Some people are like, really into that detective stuff, and when they find out that yer kinda super perceptive they wanna use your brain like a searchlight.
Where I'm actually more like:
"Oh man this is the Slashdot guy's place too?"
"The plot thickens."
"wtf I dont get it go back to the beginning and start over."
"This ain't gonna get all gross and scary is it?"
Anyways you guys gotta be careful linking to me man I'm liable to do anything to maintain my dungeon master "aura of unpredictability" heh.
Well, actually, Michael Zenke don't gotta worry about that, 'cause first of all he's a Wisconsin guy, or was one, at least at one point, and fer all I make fun of it, I love Wisconsin, its the land of Pancakes and Pine Trees and Daisy Dukes and Antique Shoppes.
And that also means he ain't some kinda madman from the desert like the rest of you guys with your turquoise jewelery and your acid-washed jean jackets and your crazy bloodshot eyes and stuff ahaha.
Plus he's a pen-n-paper guy, too.
And I already said something nice about him, y'know, and I'm from Chicago and that's just how we do things, once somebody puts the good word in for yas, yer in the tribe and that's that, man.
We ain't like them folks in California, we're Old School, baby, our civilization ain't composed entirely out of folks that "moved here last week."
Well, if you don't count all the Cubs Fans from the North Side, 'cause I sure don't heh.
Anyways that whole thing where our word is our bond is s'posed to sorta go without saying and I might just have to kill you if you keep asking me about it ahaha.
And you can't stare nobody directly in the eyes like that over here either man goddam what're ya tryin' to get youself killed? AHAHA.
And I might grumble and rib on ya a little and stuff but that's just how we check for hitches and kinks in each other's psychological armor and junk where I'm from.
And it's also 'cause I know that I might have to go out in the middle of night at end of the world in the thunder and lightning and pouring rain in some crappy pickup truck that'll hardly stay on the road and help Michael Zenke get rid of an evil gyspy or something that put a curse on him even if it kills me.
And I'm a little resentful of all these people that are allowed to keep waking my ass up in the middle of the night so I can help 'em with stuff like that all the time y'know I can't hardly get any sleep around here anymore.
Think mebbe I oughta move to California or something just so I don't gotta help nobody and I can get me some sleep ahaha.
But I didn't know it was "Michael Zenke" typing all the stuff over there.
I just always thought of that place as "the MMOG Nation Guy's Place" heh.
It took me a while to put it all together y'know?
I had to like, get all Sherlock Holmes and stuff.
And I hate having to do that Sherlock Holmes kinda thing, man, 'cause it reminds me of this boss I had that wanted me to marry his daughter, and he was totally cool in that old-fashioned Zoot Suit classy hip-cat kinda way, he used to be the front man for some swing band or something back in the olden times when everything was still in Black and White, but he had this Film Noir thingie going on where he was always trying to get me to help him solve mysteries like that whole OJ Simpson deal y'know as if we could actually do that THROUGH A TELEVISION SET heh.
Some people are like, really into that detective stuff, and when they find out that yer kinda super perceptive they wanna use your brain like a searchlight.
Where I'm actually more like:
"Oh man this is the Slashdot guy's place too?"
"The plot thickens."
"wtf I dont get it go back to the beginning and start over."
"This ain't gonna get all gross and scary is it?"
Anyways you guys gotta be careful linking to me man I'm liable to do anything to maintain my dungeon master "aura of unpredictability" heh.
Well, actually, Michael Zenke don't gotta worry about that, 'cause first of all he's a Wisconsin guy, or was one, at least at one point, and fer all I make fun of it, I love Wisconsin, its the land of Pancakes and Pine Trees and Daisy Dukes and Antique Shoppes.
And that also means he ain't some kinda madman from the desert like the rest of you guys with your turquoise jewelery and your acid-washed jean jackets and your crazy bloodshot eyes and stuff ahaha.
Plus he's a pen-n-paper guy, too.
And I already said something nice about him, y'know, and I'm from Chicago and that's just how we do things, once somebody puts the good word in for yas, yer in the tribe and that's that, man.
We ain't like them folks in California, we're Old School, baby, our civilization ain't composed entirely out of folks that "moved here last week."
Well, if you don't count all the Cubs Fans from the North Side, 'cause I sure don't heh.
Anyways that whole thing where our word is our bond is s'posed to sorta go without saying and I might just have to kill you if you keep asking me about it ahaha.
And you can't stare nobody directly in the eyes like that over here either man goddam what're ya tryin' to get youself killed? AHAHA.
And I might grumble and rib on ya a little and stuff but that's just how we check for hitches and kinks in each other's psychological armor and junk where I'm from.
And it's also 'cause I know that I might have to go out in the middle of night at end of the world in the thunder and lightning and pouring rain in some crappy pickup truck that'll hardly stay on the road and help Michael Zenke get rid of an evil gyspy or something that put a curse on him even if it kills me.
And I'm a little resentful of all these people that are allowed to keep waking my ass up in the middle of the night so I can help 'em with stuff like that all the time y'know I can't hardly get any sleep around here anymore.
Think mebbe I oughta move to California or something just so I don't gotta help nobody and I can get me some sleep ahaha.
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