Today I went to the first (hopefully) annual Free RPG Day at Millennium Games. I'll be the first to admit I'm not generally a huge fan of the store, but I've been in there a lot lately for my Friday night games and on the whole the staff is friendly these days, which is a welcome improvement from years past. The store is still kind of a mess, but considering how much space they provide for people to show up and game without dropping a dime, I guess we shouldn't really complain.
As for FRPGD itself, I'm not sure how it was supposed to work - I've heard rumors of shortages in materials, and suppliers and venues backing out at the last minute, and of course no one wanted to give away the good stuff, so it was all light modules or demos. The way Millennium put it together, you had to play an event to get the swag for that game system, which was fair, although with ten systems representing at about an hour each, one was obviously limited by one's free time. Additionally, however, they were giving away stacks of their back stock; the things that had been "in the back" for years that nobody was ever going to buy. I know in a lot of hobbies that would be insulting, but this is gaming after all - I snapped up not one but two defunct game systems based entirely on urban desolation, and look forward to perusing them in the near future. I also wound up with a copy of the new Changeling demo, in which I have only an academic interest.
At any rate, in order to obtain these items, I signed up for a quick run through of the Scion combat system, despite the temptation to check out the Call of Cthulhu demo (or more to the point, the hot redhead playing it), which I'm really glad I did. Scion is somewhere between Exalted Modern and Anansi Boys, where the characters are children of the old gods, fighting off the spawn of the Titans, in a modern setting. The combat system, it turns out, is much like Exalted with all of the rough edges sanded down. Downright sexy, in other words, to the point where my mind was filled with visions of making a nice big wooden board to represent the combat cycle and making players provide tokens for their characters, and on the whole I think I'm probably going to be running that when I run out of steam for Buffy, an event probably not too far in the future.
All in all I rather hope the towel doesn't get thrown in on this; I think this could grow into a very good annual event if it gets more support from suppliers (and hopefully some more venues to demonstrate that the suppliers have a real reason to participate).
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Taste Acquisition
Three notes about Rochester:
Last Thursday marked the start of the South Wedge Farmer's Market at Boulder Coffee. The opening ceremonies had an excellent turnout, and were introduced by our man Duffy himself, who impressed me by hanging out and chatting with people for at least the duration of my stay. It's starting small - and obviously can't get too big without changing venues - but there was a good solid crowd and it seemed like we'd outdone the vendors' supply in short order - I got the impression most of them hadn't expected to need quite so much stock. Hopefully it'll be equally attended next week, only this time with a wider selection - having a good produce market that doesn't require getting up with the sun on Saturdays is a wonderful thing.
This past Saturday, the intersection at East & Alexander was packed well beyond any sane capacity for a concert by Rusted Root, which I was pleased to attend. In point of fact I might as well have stayed home; I was able to catch the encore quite well from my apartment with the windows open, but it was still neat to see the band, which I've enjoyed for some time now. I haven't attended a good street concert since Concrete Blonde in D.C., and on the whole this was a pretty good time.
Tonight, I had dinner at a new(ish) Thai place called Siam, in the new buildings at Corn Hill Landing. I didn't like the restaurant itself, to be honest; the acoustics were terrible and I had trouble making myself heard by the person across the table from me even once most of the other guests had left. However, there was outdoor seating available, and I suspect I would have enjoyed that more (if, of course, it hadn't been pouring rain). Our waitress, 'Linda', provided what was unquestionably the worst service I have ever had in my entire life, and I am not exaggerating - I did something I think I have never done before, and left her exactly zero tip, but only after complaining to the manager about her. I can only assume she is the owner's daughter and very desperately not interested in being there, because no one who would actually apply for a job in the service industry could be that terrible. I have, and I say this in all honesty, had better service at McDonald's, and I don't mean the occasional good service you get there, I mean every single time I have ever been. However, the food was amazing. Just beyond belief. I was in awe. I will go back, most likely for take out, and I will likely do it over and over again - I just don't think I'll ever eat my food there again.
On the whole, to paraphrase a friend, this week is the closest I've come to not hating Rochester in a good long time. I'm impressed.
Last Thursday marked the start of the South Wedge Farmer's Market at Boulder Coffee. The opening ceremonies had an excellent turnout, and were introduced by our man Duffy himself, who impressed me by hanging out and chatting with people for at least the duration of my stay. It's starting small - and obviously can't get too big without changing venues - but there was a good solid crowd and it seemed like we'd outdone the vendors' supply in short order - I got the impression most of them hadn't expected to need quite so much stock. Hopefully it'll be equally attended next week, only this time with a wider selection - having a good produce market that doesn't require getting up with the sun on Saturdays is a wonderful thing.
This past Saturday, the intersection at East & Alexander was packed well beyond any sane capacity for a concert by Rusted Root, which I was pleased to attend. In point of fact I might as well have stayed home; I was able to catch the encore quite well from my apartment with the windows open, but it was still neat to see the band, which I've enjoyed for some time now. I haven't attended a good street concert since Concrete Blonde in D.C., and on the whole this was a pretty good time.
Tonight, I had dinner at a new(ish) Thai place called Siam, in the new buildings at Corn Hill Landing. I didn't like the restaurant itself, to be honest; the acoustics were terrible and I had trouble making myself heard by the person across the table from me even once most of the other guests had left. However, there was outdoor seating available, and I suspect I would have enjoyed that more (if, of course, it hadn't been pouring rain). Our waitress, 'Linda', provided what was unquestionably the worst service I have ever had in my entire life, and I am not exaggerating - I did something I think I have never done before, and left her exactly zero tip, but only after complaining to the manager about her. I can only assume she is the owner's daughter and very desperately not interested in being there, because no one who would actually apply for a job in the service industry could be that terrible. I have, and I say this in all honesty, had better service at McDonald's, and I don't mean the occasional good service you get there, I mean every single time I have ever been. However, the food was amazing. Just beyond belief. I was in awe. I will go back, most likely for take out, and I will likely do it over and over again - I just don't think I'll ever eat my food there again.
On the whole, to paraphrase a friend, this week is the closest I've come to not hating Rochester in a good long time. I'm impressed.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
omg wtf phb psa ftw!
If you're a nerd of any kind, you need to watch this video, and all the rest of the series (currently 24 parts, plus a deleted scene, a bonus moment with one of the characters, a commercial for a sponsor, and a brief message from the creators).
If you think you couldn't possibly be interested in investing that much time, just try the first one (above) and, if that gets so much as a chuckle, part two. You'll be hooked, seriously. These people are my heroes.
If you think you couldn't possibly be interested in investing that much time, just try the first one (above) and, if that gets so much as a chuckle, part two. You'll be hooked, seriously. These people are my heroes.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Microfiction: Madness & Genius (terato topic)
I actually wrote this the other night after whining about not writing anymore, only to find that I was unable to post it over the next few days because of an apparently ongoing issue with LJ communities or posting access or some such nonsense. So I put it here, because hey, where else am I going to put it?
---
The radio crackles as the broadcast dies. In another room the television goes to a picture of white noise, but the audio falls to silence. Across the world, there is a breath, a beat, a moment of attention captured, all eyes turned to the front. Cell phone service is disrupted, and billions of people angrily push trillions of buttons. Their efforts are silenced as a soothing voice begins speaking, echoing from every reception device that humanity has active. No picture is presented.
"There's a theory," says the voice, "that makes its way through the collective consciousness. There's no one good way to say it, but everyone considers it 'a saying', phrased in mind's eye with everyone's own particular spin. Dogmatic of the self-help movement, this is how it sounds to me: 'Only a madman never questions his own sanity.'"
The owner of the voice is male, and speaks in English, with an American accent. There is a strong New England presence in the intonation, but the patterns of speech are evocative of the west coast. A hint of a lisp strains the 's' sounds from time to time.
"But that doesn't capture it, does it? That's not the whole sentiment. Because sure, you'd have to be nuts to not allow the possibility that you're nuts. Only a zealot can believe without question that They Are Right; everyone except zealots can agree on that. Modern spiritualism couldn't really function as a culture without the basic acceptance of human fallibility; the idea that everyone has the right idea - as far as their own self goes - is predicated on the notion that reality is personal. And there's the rub, the mistake that pervades humanity in this day and age. The flip side of the theory, that lets us all sleep at night: If you question your sanity from time to time, you must be sane."
There is a pause, and the sound of water being consumed from a narrow glass. Traffic slows to a halt, and an eerie silence falls across the globe, as everyone waits for the speaker to continue. In various government bunkers, frantic efforts are underway to reclaim the airwaves; none are successful.
"Call me crazy, but I just don't buy it. I can't accept that no mass murderer, no religious leader, no visionary scientist, has ever taken the time to doubt his own sanity. And that's the thing, kids - the world is changed by the loonies. Our future is shaped by our past, and our past can't be written exclusively by people who never once stopped to wonder if they were doing the right thing.
"Or maybe ... maybe that's what's wrong with us all. Maybe everyone who has ever laid a hand to the course of human development has suffered from the same weakness that we all share, and taken a moment to question a view they should've held as perfect conviction. Perhaps, on some level, doubt is what has done us all in.
"If that is the case, I apologize, because my actions are necessarily flawed. Certainty is not something that I can cling to, desperately though I try. Perhaps the descendants of those that might survive will learn this lesson from us. Perhaps they will not, and in time herald uncertainty as the new enlightenment, and mistakes will be made all over again. And perhaps ... perhaps those children will succeed where we have failed."
The voice pauses just briefly, and echoes despair in its final statement.
"We will never know."
All frequencies are gripped by the same burst of static that heralded the opening of the broadcast, then flicker back to life as though there had been no interruption. Cable channels and radio broadcasts resume, and radar screens flicker back to life.
Across the globe, air raid sirens begin to wail.
---
The radio crackles as the broadcast dies. In another room the television goes to a picture of white noise, but the audio falls to silence. Across the world, there is a breath, a beat, a moment of attention captured, all eyes turned to the front. Cell phone service is disrupted, and billions of people angrily push trillions of buttons. Their efforts are silenced as a soothing voice begins speaking, echoing from every reception device that humanity has active. No picture is presented.
"There's a theory," says the voice, "that makes its way through the collective consciousness. There's no one good way to say it, but everyone considers it 'a saying', phrased in mind's eye with everyone's own particular spin. Dogmatic of the self-help movement, this is how it sounds to me: 'Only a madman never questions his own sanity.'"
The owner of the voice is male, and speaks in English, with an American accent. There is a strong New England presence in the intonation, but the patterns of speech are evocative of the west coast. A hint of a lisp strains the 's' sounds from time to time.
"But that doesn't capture it, does it? That's not the whole sentiment. Because sure, you'd have to be nuts to not allow the possibility that you're nuts. Only a zealot can believe without question that They Are Right; everyone except zealots can agree on that. Modern spiritualism couldn't really function as a culture without the basic acceptance of human fallibility; the idea that everyone has the right idea - as far as their own self goes - is predicated on the notion that reality is personal. And there's the rub, the mistake that pervades humanity in this day and age. The flip side of the theory, that lets us all sleep at night: If you question your sanity from time to time, you must be sane."
There is a pause, and the sound of water being consumed from a narrow glass. Traffic slows to a halt, and an eerie silence falls across the globe, as everyone waits for the speaker to continue. In various government bunkers, frantic efforts are underway to reclaim the airwaves; none are successful.
"Call me crazy, but I just don't buy it. I can't accept that no mass murderer, no religious leader, no visionary scientist, has ever taken the time to doubt his own sanity. And that's the thing, kids - the world is changed by the loonies. Our future is shaped by our past, and our past can't be written exclusively by people who never once stopped to wonder if they were doing the right thing.
"Or maybe ... maybe that's what's wrong with us all. Maybe everyone who has ever laid a hand to the course of human development has suffered from the same weakness that we all share, and taken a moment to question a view they should've held as perfect conviction. Perhaps, on some level, doubt is what has done us all in.
"If that is the case, I apologize, because my actions are necessarily flawed. Certainty is not something that I can cling to, desperately though I try. Perhaps the descendants of those that might survive will learn this lesson from us. Perhaps they will not, and in time herald uncertainty as the new enlightenment, and mistakes will be made all over again. And perhaps ... perhaps those children will succeed where we have failed."
The voice pauses just briefly, and echoes despair in its final statement.
"We will never know."
All frequencies are gripped by the same burst of static that heralded the opening of the broadcast, then flicker back to life as though there had been no interruption. Cable channels and radio broadcasts resume, and radar screens flicker back to life.
Across the globe, air raid sirens begin to wail.
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