Mind and Crumpet

Every time I think Hannibal Lecter can't possibly make me think any worse of him, he goes and proves me wrong. It's not supposed to be a competition you utter fucking be-suited DISTILLED ESSENCE OF DICKHAT. I can't muster up any literary monologuing because of how much I just want him to die.

Although, man, Chilton is going to feel like suuuuch a dumbass in maybe a couple of months. Probably not proportional to his actual level of dumbassery, which has its own gravity well and distorts the light of distant stars, but every bit helps. I also want to kick Will in the groin a little, but honestly, I don't think anything I could do would possibly be worse than what he'll feel when he finds out.

Man. Anyway, the distressed wailing can be traced in my direction, if that was confusing you. Sorry.

I made the shift! This may have have been due to the lovely and well-explained instructions provided by the Dreamwidth folks that allowed me to import all my stuff. (Because I can't just leave it there or something. What do you take me for, some kind of crazy person? I must have my posts. My posts. My precioussss.)

So hello again! I apologise for the long vanishment. I tried to make my presence known, but "popping up out of the blue to jabber for a while and then sinking again" was probably not that effective or, er, endearing. I assure you that I was not dead or in even moderate peril - just angry at Livejournal and confused by Tumblr.

I am studying English Literature so that I may get a degree. It is enjoyable! This semester we are looking at Romanticism. The level of pouting performed by authors I once viewed with awe is spectacular. One thing I love very much about this topic (and the Arts) is that studying these people who've been enshrined in the halls of Brilliant Creators reveals - to my slight surprise - that they are still people. And this fact makes their work far more appealing, because it didn't arise from some hidden wellspring of genius that no one else discovered, but from where art arises in anyone. Things like sadness, joy, anger, frustration, boredom and - of course - the need for money. Some of the Romanticists thought they could found great governments and societies on their philosophising, so they could be as naive as we are, too. It's a continuously repeated but always wonderful discovery to make. Especially with the additional discovery that women wrote just as well and just as much, even if that keeps being forgotten.

...That was all a bit heavier than I intended, so have a picture of one of my dogs. His name is Caliban. I named him that because I thought the name the shelter gave him was too dignified. He's mostly called Cal, and he is a good boy.

( Whosh a good boy? )

Good boy.

Okay, look, when a thing is not actually Resident Evil, and the only thing I want is that it not turn into Resident Evil, and then it turns into Resident Evil, I think I am justified in complaining!

Especially since there's so much Resident Evil on the marketplace as it is.

Me: That was amazing! Awe-inspiring! I can't wait to see how it'll change everything in the galaxy! What will happen next?
Mass Effect 3: Unreleased DLC! :D
Me: ...What?
Mass Effect 3: Deeeee Eeelll Ceeee!

...That's mildly annoying. Otherwise it was a gorgeous game, though.

News about that new Thief game whose working title is too silly to reproduce here is pretty scarce. For all that it was announced more than a year ago, there have been no trailers, no concept art, no prospective features, no hints about the plot or tone or setting or protagonists it may or may not have (and since the third game rounded off the overarching plot pretty definitely, those parts would be important. Those last four things are Thief - their interplay and interconnection with the game mechanics and design made it beautiful). It's been relegated to the back of my mind lately mostly because SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM SKYRIM and to a lesser extent various other things I've been following. And life, too. I suppose life is involved somewhere.

I just found something to spark my interest again, though; a piece of flotsam kicked up by Good Old Games getting their hands onto Thief Gold and Thief 2: Metal Age and poking them into working on today's computers. (Run and buy them now!) Thief did things with sound that games today still don't do. So it was somewhat of a relief to find the fellow in charge of the new game's noise-making (Paul Wier), despite not being Eric Brosius, making this presentation about generative sound (or making noises that shift smoothly in tone, key, scale and general mood according to specific game states on the fly, rather than composing looped backing tracks for each setting or situation). And it was an instant sell for me because of the slow thrumming atmosphere he brought about. No heavy percussion, no noticeable melody, just...foreboding.

Because of course, Thief is not about being James Bond or Solid Snake or Sam Fisher or Catwoman. It's darkness and stone, old magic and the dead, and the ever-present press of technology and zealotry.

...Anyway it's called Stealing Sound and if you don't want to listen to a somewhat nasal-sounding dude talking about the processes going on you can just skip to the last two or three minutes and listen to the impromptu track he plays. The volume might need to be turned up. Also headphones are possibly necessary for the proper experience. Mmm, tasty noise.

Joining the hate-wagon (it's a wagon where everyone sits all bunched up and glaring at each other while the ones closest to the side scream vitriol at whatever target the hate-wagon has acquired, and it is pulled by a flaming horse that kicks people) for LJ's new bullshit. I've been using this site for a pretty mindbogglingly long time, when I think about it, and I don't know whether or not I'm mired in site-loyalty too deeply to extricate myself and go faceplant in Dreamwidth, but every new, inexplicable, insane reduction of this site's usefulness brings me a little closer to deciding.

Also I don't like being made fun of by the site's owners. I gave you money, you assholes. You have to earn the right to publicly mock your customers by providing fantastic service, and you're only just barely hovering around 'adequate' at the moment.

I think I might want to start making preparations to pull up sticks when my paid time runs out. Tips? Suggestions? (I'll probably be using the same name. It's mine.)

I has a PS3.

More importantly, I has the means to play a PS3, which I lacked before.

It turns out Uncharted 2: Among Thieves is one of those games where, directly after finishing it, I have the intense desire to stick a syringe in my head and suck out the memory of playing it ala Dark City, so I can play it all over again fresh.

Although I have to wonder if Prototype has broken my moral compass, because I didn't feel bad about shooting all those mooks. Maybe it's the lack of blood? Or dismemberment? Hmm. Or maybe it's because these guys apparently don't feel bad about throwing a tank and one point four bazillion soldiers with machine guns through a sleepy Tibetan village to get at one ninety-year-old guy, who knows.

I guess my point is that one level had throat-singing in its soundtrack and it was sweet, especially because I could identify it when previously I had been flailing due to my complete lack of knowledge about Tibetan (or indeed most Asian) culture. There was also Nathan's notebook full of a) notes and hints about puzzles, b) practical reminders for a globe-trotting adventurer and c) extremely silly doodles about whatever happened to occur to Nate during a quiet moment. Some multilingual.

Um, holy shit.

( There's an intensely creepy and beautiful trailer here. )

Look at those colours. ...If it's anything as lovely on release as it looks there, I might need to look into a Steam account. Drat.

I think the stupidest line I've heard in Dead Space 2 thus far (and there's some stiff competition) is a scientist saying, with a completely straight face, that only "smart people" will be able to withstand the Marker implanting information into their skulls.

Her words.

A scientist.

"Smart people."

Mmm. And just what is the metric for "smart," lady?

How about "After extensive tests, I believe the implanted information can only be withstood and translated by people with technical and practical intelligence; architects, mechanics, engineers, scientists...to anyone else (even anyone else whose intelligence is great in a different area, such as emotional or creative) it is so much noise, and the overload will eventually drive those who do not fit the criteria to violent, self-destructive insanity. I have yet to isolate the exact mechanism by which this occurs; further testing is needed. Please see attached list for traits proven common to the most productive subjects."

The character writing has improved, marginally, but the rest of the writing, particularly anything involving the MagGuffins or 'scariness', remains very very silly.

Dog: I see that bath tub, shampoo, towel, bucket and brush you've got there. I am full of suspicion.
Me: Will cuddles mitigate suspicion?
Dog: TOTALLY!!!
Me: Will they also mitigate being dropped into warm soapy water?
Dog: TREACHERY!!!
Me: But clean, fluffy, nice-smelling treachery! Free of fleas!
Dog: My stench! My glorious stench! Alas! Woe! Curses and damnation!
Weather: HEY GUYS WHAT IS UP DO YOU WANT SOME RAIN HERE HAVE SOME RAIN
Me: ...I actually could have done without that.
Dog: KARMA!!!
Me: I'm still washing you, though.
Dog: Akdfhdsfhfdghfhggfnoooooooo

And that was how the dog and I became equally wet when I was only supposed to be washing the dog. At least the shampoo left me smelling of Aloe-Vera.