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New Hampshire really is a beautiful place, but only if you like the deep forest. In my hometown, any livable area has been hacked from the wilderness, and is still bordered by an impassable thicket of trees. Great if the Normans invade or something,

I do so love the 90. Nashua NH to Buffalo in 6:45. Also, for a decent swath of it you can listen to the only station that matters.

Here’s a peep at the Clifton Springs rest area, enjoying the bleak view while I call work.

It had to end.

Went bald as a fundraiser for Roswell. Also got the beard trimmed down to a goatee.

Looked a bit too much like a neo-nazi for my tastes. Way too much for Jess’s.

Could see why badasses wore the look — felt like a mask. A mask of badassedness. Didn’t match my physique, of course. Even less my demeanor. Did people treat me differently? Or did I act differently towards people?

Either way, back to myself.
Note: I blame my lack of subjects in the above post on the fact that I read The Watchmen over the weekend. Too much Rorschach, I guess.

Long-time B A Starters will remember the Great Debate over whether or not videogames are art. After much discussion and refining of definitions, my statement was “not yet”. Maybe they can be, but no one’s come up with anything so far that makes me say “yes”.

I’m pissed at myself for not knowing anything about Jason Rohrer until Alanna lent me December’s Esquire. I read the article and played Passage, and now can quite firmly state that there’s at least one person out there making art in this format. (The person who made The Majesty of Colors counts too — a post for a later date)

Before you go any further, I recommend giving Passage a play. I read the summary in the Esquire article before I played it and wish I hadn’t. Still, despite knowing the point before going into it, I still had an emotional reaction to the game.

Passage provides you with choices. Do I hunt for treasure chests, or do I explore the world? Should I marry? If I do, it becomes harder to get the treasure but more rewarding to explore. But no matter what you choose, you will subtly age and die. Unceremoniously, suddenly, irrevocably.

For the first time in a lifetime of videogaming, I found myself reflecting. I have had a lot of reason to consider my choices recently — career, personal, spiritual — and this 5-minute game resonated with my meditations. It’s an interactive Beethoven’s fifth; go ahead and make your silly little choices — fate will win and they will have done nothing to change that. All you can influence is your own experience, and try to do as much with your 5 as possible.

I’ll be keeping an eye on what this gent produces. If you find anyone else out there working to communicate emotion through the interactivity of videogames, do please throw a comment my way.

A heartfelt congratulations to the Benzins on the birth of their first child, Vincent.

But where, pray tell, did the name come from?

Perhaps it was Vincent O’Neill. You know, theater stuff.

Or maybe Vincent Van Gogh? They’re creative types. (Apparently its pronounced Van Gokh. Who knew?)

My hope is that the littlest Benzin was named after mysterious bad-ass Vincent Valentine. I have my doubts, though.

Either way, I look forward to meeting the little guy.

I had hoped that Mirror’s Edge would be good. Not that I have a next-gen system yet, but still. YT parkouring around? Awesome. Visual style looks awesome, too. All around awesomeness.

So, imagine my dismay when it turns out to be kind of meh. I played about three seconds of the 360 demo, and that was all it took.

Good news, though — there’s a 2d flash version. I mean, it plays like a cross between Line Rider and 8-bit Ninja Gaiden, but it’s still fun. Here’s hoping they do more with it.

And once again we find ourselves talking about Neuromancer.

So, did you give Dollhouse a watch? The St. Whedon-blest Fox show featuring Faith? The one about girls who get personalities shoved in their minds to make them perfect for a job?

Naturally, this sort of technology finds itself being used for prostitution. Which is exactly how it worked in Neuromancer. Bad-assed Molly did a stint as a hooker for a while, but never remembered any of it. A program was put in her head before the session and her brain was wiped afterwards.

Until, of course, the memories started to crop back up, a device we already starting to see in Dollhouse.

This is not an anti-whedon post. This is a pro-gibson post. I mean, did the guy think of everything?

So, it’s clear there’s some odd stuff happening around Buffalo. A plane drops out of the sky (to which I reacted very emotionally, if I may share. I wore all black the next day.). A man whose job is to fight Middle-Eastern stereotypes post-9/11 beheads his wife. Sick, sick, sick.

But perhaps oddest of all — I fixed something. I fixed the treadmill. Like with tools and stuff. Granted, I then went on to nearly burn the house down a few times through sheer stupidity, but I really did fix something.

Maybe this all related to the Unitarian… service (?) I went to last week.

I have been led to understand that Cola-cola is the real thing, and indeed that there ain’t nothin’ like it. How then, are we to take the superbowl commercial entitled “Avatar”?

You know the one. Dude is walking around the city and web-enabled people turn into their online personas. Elves, zombies, pokemen, and space adventurers go about their mundane business all around our protagonist. He finally takes a respite from his odyssey in a seat next to a big bad orc, who, it turns out is the cute girl in real life.

Is this meant to be a “book-by-its-cover” morality tale? After all, the frumpy lady is a 60’s spy-movie femme fatale in the digital world. The nattily-dressed business man appears as a blue-skinned beastie. Surely our avatars, the faces which we choose for ourselves, speak much more about who we are than our offline bodies.

At about the half-way point, though, a few ironic vignettes appear in rapid succession. A pasty man in a white short-sleeved oxford shirt (the uniform of a fool in advertising) ignores a woman who struggles to get her stroller up the stairs, but turns into a superhero before our eyes. A spitting image of the Victor dog — you remember, the one who hears his master’s voice on the record-player — bounces a sad blue ball against the leg of a boy who is apparently engaged in a particularly exciting hand-held video game. A child is dutifully pushed on a swing by a virtual supermom, who is far more interested in texting with her other hand.

So perhaps, then, the fine people at Coca-cola are saying something different. Perhaps our choices of avatar speak more about who we think we are than who we are in truth.

What, then, of our orc? She certainly seems upset when the protagonist reaches for her tasty bottle of Coke — her green brow furrows and an angry sneer appears on her fanged mouth. Are we to assume that this young woman, who to all appearances seems nice enough in the real world, is in her mind a nasty and brutish agent of evil? Or has this gladsome prince appeared to kiss her back into the form of the princess?

Next time you meet someone, ask them what they use for their avatar. Share a Coke and see what that says about them. You should probably keep your observations to yourself, though — at least until you exchange email addresses.

Roadrunner has apparently decided to get rid for the web space for their customers. So, I am on the hunt for free/inexpensive web hosting. Advice?