Michele and I are currently enmeshed in the process of sorting out all of our phone and internet options. It started out as a simple mission–“Let’s reduce our phone bill!”–but it has morphed into a gargantuan research project.
Should we drop the landline entirely and go voice-over-IP? If we’re doing that, should we switch from cable modem to direct-line DSL and get a bundle deal? And while we’re doing that, should we finally cave in and buy cellphones (that’s right, we’ve never owned a cellphone) so we’ll be covered in case the power goes out and we lose VoIP? Or do we dare trust the phone company’s oh-so-amazing DSL-cellular-landline bundle deal, when they’re the ones whose overpriced phone service kicked off this whole process in the first place?
When researching this sort of thing, you eventually reach a point where the sheer number of variables involved–pricing options, extra features, bundle possibilities, terms of service, activation fees–becomes overwhelming. I think I’m about at the point beyond which I simply cannot process any more information on this subject. So if you’re a pushy salesperson and you’ve got a great deal you can offer me on internet and telephone service, now’s the time to call; I’m far too weary to resist.
Holiday spirit
Have you hugged your GM today? That’s “GM” as in “gamemaster,” not “car manufacturer.” Today, March 4, is GM Day, a day when we all set aside our differences and celebrate the GMs among us.
I note that several online gaming stores have “GM Day discounts” going on. Will the crass capitalist merchandizing of precious holidays never end? I mean, the local department stores had all their GM Day decorations and sales up months before the holiday even arrived.
update: My wife informs me that March 4th is also the only day that’s also a command. (I had to think about that one for a second.)
Guilt
Today at work, I did something that made me feel bad.
I got a phone call from a Random Person who asked for me by name, having seen an article I’d written online. He wanted to talk about the article, and to bounce some of his thoughts on the article’s subject off me. Basically, he wanted to chat with me.
I don’t get many phone calls in the course of my job, and I generally try to keep all of my interaction with Random People restricted to email. This is because I dislike talking on the phone, and really dislike talking on the phone with strangers (or salespeople). But I took the call today anyway, not realizing that the person on the other end was going to want to talk with me at length.
He launched into his conversation immediately, and it quickly became clear that the person on the other end of the line was going to be… difficult. I’m somewhat ashamed that my first reaction was “Oh great, I’m stuck in a conversation with a wacko.” I wouldn’t quite label this person a “crazy,” but he wasn’t too far from it. This person, you see, had some very odd ideas about the subject at hand, and hardly gave me any room to speak. I listened as he talked on and on, mumbling the occasional “I see” or “Mmm hmmm” as I tried to think of a way to politely end the conversation as quickly as possible.
Eventually, after about 10-15 agonizing (for me) minutes, he seemed to realize that I was hardly participating in the conversation, and that I was showing a definite lack of interest in talking to him. I politely thanked him for calling me and sharing his, uh, “interesting” ideas, and hung up.
The feeling I had as I hung up, however, was not victory, or elation at being free from the unbelievably awkward conversation, or even anger about the stream of crazy ideas to which I’d just been exposed. I felt… guilty.
Questions are milling around in my brain as I write this–questions about how I should have handled the situation. This guy had some strange ideas, but he was a real person, somebody who took the time to call me up because he wanted to talk to me about what was on his mind. Were his ideas obviously somewhat crazy? Definitely. Was he lacking in social skills? Yes. Was it bizarre that he called me at work to tell me his thoughts? Yep. Was avoiding conversation and essentially hanging up on him a morally appropriate action? I’m not sure it was.
I knew within moments of talking to him that this guy needed help. Not medical help, or even counseling help. He just sounded like he’d been alone for too long, like he’d been cooped up in his house reading oddball websites for too long. At some point in the conversation (and this should give you an idea of the rambling nature of his monologue) he mentioned that he hadn’t been able to find a church home because he felt judged by the churches he visited. But that’s exactly what this guy needed–some friends, some fellow believers, a community of other real people to tolerate him, improve his social skills, and set his life back on track.
I wish I had said something kind to him, encouraged him to keep looking for a church home. I should’ve not let that conversation end with him feeling sheepish for calling me up and babbling at me. I should not have let the excuse It’s not my job to help this guy even enter my mind, much less determine my course of action.
But I did. Maybe I’ll do better next time. And I hope somebody else can pick things up where I dropped the ball, and help this guy out.
“Which way were we supposed to go, again?”: Information management in computer RPGs
I haven’t been doing too much computer gaming lately, but the one game I’ve been slowly working my through over the last few months is Morrowind, a fantasy RPG that had the misfortune of hitting store shelves at about the same time as Neverwinter Nights a few summers ago. Morrowind is, thus far, a very excellent game–its main feature is its extremely open-ended gameplay, with an almost bewildering amount of freedom given to the player.
While I recommend that you give Morrowind a try should you come across it, that’s not the main point of this little post. I’d like to think aloud for a moment about an oft-overlooked but important gameplay challenge that epic-scale RPGs like Morrowind face: helping the player keep track of all the information s/he comes across in the course of the game.
The world of Morrowind, and computer RPGs like it, is massive. The world map is sufficiently big that exploring it all could very easily take many dozens of hours of “real life” time; and the number of villages, cities, dungeons, and other Locations of Interest is enough to drive mad any but the most determined cartographer. When you consider that each location on the map can feature anywhere from 2 to 200 characters with whom to interact (“NPCs,” in RPG parlance), and each of those characters is ready to spout several pages’ worth of dialogue about the world of Morrowind and its secrets, the very thought of keeping track of all this information mentally is intimidating, to say the least. “What was the name of the town where I’m supposed to meet that contact, again?” the bewildered player soon finds himself asking. “What were the names of the local guild leaders? And did that guy say to turn north at the swamp, or south?”
Morrowind‘s sheer size makes it something of an extreme, but many RPGs suffer from being so big and populated that players can’t remember everything they’re told in the game. So how do RPGs go about trying to help players out in this regard?
In the Old Days, computer games didn’t really help you out at all, which meant that a pencil and notebook were the gamer’s most precious possessions–whether you were playing The Bard’s Tale or Ultima IV or Wasteland, chances are your computer desk was buried under sheets of notebook paper upon which crude maps, cryptic notes, answers to riddles, and passwords were scrawled. When, in their lair at the bottom of the Dungeon of Doom, the priests of the Mad God Tarjan ask you to state the password or die, you had just better hope that password is one of the many words scribbled on that piece of notebook paper!
These days, of course, games are both more complex and larger in scale than they were in the Glorious Days of Yore. They also, in some cases at least, attempt to store and manage your information for you. Morrowind does this fairly well, in my opinion, if not perfectly. It features an automatically-updating map of the game world, which is expanded and annotated as you acquire information and visit new locales. It’s a particularly helpful map in that it not only shows the main game world, but shows “local” maps with things like shops, temples, and other important buildings labeled so that you don’t have to remember which section of town houses the town hall.
Auto-maps like this are pretty common fare in RPGs these days, although most of them (including those in Morrowind) are missing a feature I think is almost ridiculously useful: the ability to mark and annotate the map yourself. Why does my map only show me the handful of locations deemed Important by the game designers? What if (as was recently the case for me in Morrowind) I want to stash all of my spare equipment and supplies in an abandoned building somewhere for later retrieval, but I don’t want to forget where that stash is located? It would be really nice if I could add labels and markers to the in-game map to note important locations like that, or to post “sticky note”-style reminders and notes to make sure I don’t forget important bits of information. I have seen this feature in only a small handful of RPGs (Baldur’s Gate II, I believe, was one of them), but I wish it were more common.
Keeping track of map locations is just one aspect of managing player information, however. The other major element is somehow recording all the important hints, secrets, names, directions, advice, and commands that you receive in conversation with the game’s NPCs. There are two extremes RPGs take in this regard: some, like Knights of the Old Republic, contain complete logs of every conversation you have in the course of the game, and let you browse through the conversation logs if you need to track down a specific piece of information. Other games, like Morrowind and most of the Black Isle RPGs, contain an automatically-updated “journal” that records basic summaries of plot-important conversations.
There are problems with each extreme. The first method–recording complete logs of all conversations–is useful in that it puts the maximum amount of information at your disposal, but is incredibly unwieldy. Are you really going to dig through dozens of conversation logs in search of some isolated line of important dialogue? The other method–the automatic journal summary–is useful because it distills all of your conversations down to just the plot-important ones, but can quickly start feeling like a checklist of tasks, not a real diary of one’s experiences. I remember only one game that let you keep your own in-game journal (Baldur’s Gate II), and I must say, it added tremendously to my experience to be able to keep my own notes (both in-character and out-of-character) during the game.
I’d love to see these methods of tracking game information improved and expanded. The automatically-updating maps are already quite useful, although they would benefit from being editable by the player. The conversation-tracking and journalling can use some more substantial improvements, however. To that end, I’d love to see an RPG that includes some of these features:
- a simple, Google-style search engine I can use to search through conversation logs for keywords
- an in-game player journal (in addition to, or integrated with, any automatically-updated journal)–preferably a full-blown text editor, complete with basic text formatting options
- the ability to associate certain journal entries with specific points on the map, so that clicking on parts of the map would also highlight all journal entries (or conversation logs, or any other notes you’ve taken) that relate to that area
- a “sticky note” feature that would let you attach sticky notes to any part of the game interface
I’d love to see some of these features added to future RPGs. I’m sure that some of them will be (or already are) incorporated into games, but I have a feeling that the relative thanklessness of designing this aspect of a game will keep these sorts of tools very much on the back burner in most RPGs (are game reviewers more likely to praise a game’s mind-blowing graphics, or its map-annotation features?). Nevertheless, I think the careful application of some of these features would improve gameplay in subtle but important ways.
byMuffin mania
This morning, Michele baked a batch of delicious muffins with chocolate chips in them. They are quite tasty, and presumably intended to be eaten over the course of several days. Then she went off to work, leaving the container of muffins on the kitchen counter.
To make a long story short, I’ve eaten a very large quantity of chocolate-chip muffins today. She’ll be home shortly and will inevitably see that the muffin container is now only about 30% full. She will also want to know why I’m too full to eat dinner.
I think it’s too late at this point to somehow create more muffins to replace those I’ve eaten. Nor can I think of a convincing story to explain the disappearance of all those muffins (the cats, who normally make good scapegoats, have shown no interest in the muffins, so Michele wouldn’t buy that). I might just have to face the music on this one.
Information overload
Warning: rambling, poorly-organized thoughts follow.
I enjoy discussion and speculation about the blogosphere’s influence on the Old Media, and so I read with interest this exchange between Jeff Jarvis and the NYT’s Bill Keller (via Andrew Sullivan). Searching about the web will reveal a great many other conversations taking place about the same general topic.
There are a lot of issues behind the “blogs vs. Old Media” question. Are blogs going to break down and rebuild in their own image the way we receive and interpret news and information? Will blogs force a reform of Old Media practices and attitudes and then settle comfortably into peaceful co-existence with a reformed media establishment? Or are blogs just a flash in the pan, the refuge of embittered hacks who mistake the nitpicking of legitimate news stories with meaningful journalism?
More importantly, I think the questions boil down to this: who will act as the information gatekeepers of the next century? Do we want a trained and professional cadre that we trust to filter news and information for us responsibly? Or do we want everyone to have equal access to all available information, and place on individuals the burden of filtering that information down to a meaningful, comprehensible digest?
One fact that has been slowly dawning on me over the last year is that the latter method–having access to a vast amount of information and trying to filter it down into something I can understand and to which I can respond–is a truly daunting task. I want raw, “unprocessed” news and information to be freely available so that I can form my own ideas based upon them; I dislike the idea of getting my information pre-filtered and pre-packaged via a newspaper, radio station, or news network. So at first glance, the internet and the blogosphere seem like a dream come true: so much information, so many opinions, so much data, all free to compete for my attention in an equal-opportunity ocean of ideas!
That sounds good to me. But while I like this system better than the alternative, I’m not convinced that it leads to a more informed populace at all, despite the easy access we now have to the same pool of facts and information from which the Old Media draws its stories. Faced with a million different points of view and information aggregators, people simply choose the ones that support viewpoints they already hold. With all the ideas floating around the web, you’d think that we’d all be more open than ever to other points of view and opposing opinions; but the reality is that our new ability to choose our own information sources actually makes it easier than ever to avoid exposure to ideas we don’t like. We choose what we believe, and then we choose information channels that confirm those views. To use a political example: If you’re a liberal, you probably read mostly liberal blogs and news that reinforce your beliefs, and you find it difficult to understand how anyone could possibly be a conservative. My own diet of mostly conservative information confirms my own conservative beliefs, and makes me feel the same way about liberals.
The sheer vastness of information out there is simply impossible to interpret without applying filters, and the vastness of the internet makes it easier than ever to find a filter that conforms exactly to your wishes. And the vastness of information means it’s easier than ever to find backing for your ideas, no matter how reasonable or crazy there are. Have an opinion about abortion, gun control, or the president? Give me five minutes with Google and I guarantee I can produce convincing-sounding data that argues exactly the opposite.
How exactly have we benefited from this vast openness of information?
Don’t get me wrong. Given a choice between having my news spoon-fed to me by a massive, biased, elitist, yellow-journalist news bureaucracy or picking my own news sources from a vast pool of equal contenders, I’ll go with the latter option without hesitation. But there are days that I wonder: are we actually tapping into a vast and unbiased information universe? Or faced with more information than we can possibly comprehend, do we just pick and choose the things that confirm what we already believe?
Cryptonomicrisis
I’ve got a problem. A book-related problem.
A year or so ago, I started reading Neal Stephenson’s Quicksilver. I made it a good ways through, and was enjoying it. And then the unthinkable happened: I got distracted, and put the book back on the shelf… for about 12 months.
Now, I’d like to finish the novel and move on to the other two tomes in the trilogy. But I’ve forgotten all of the characters and plot details (and if you’ve read anything by Stephenson, you know that his plots contain a lot of details), so I feel some pressure to start over from page 1. But I also feel a mind-numbing dread at the prospect of re-reading 600 pages of fairly dense prose.
This has happened to me more than once before; the most spectacular such experience occurred while I was reading through Robert Jordan’s as-yet-unfinished Wheel of Time series. I read through book 5 in the series–and remember, that’s many thousands of pages just to get to that point–and then my brain collapsed from the strain of keeping track of so… many… characters! So many annoying characters!
So I put down the Wheel of Time series. Several years later, I decided for some reason that I’d like to give the series another try. As the details of my first reading were lost in a haze of repressed memories, I decided to start over with Book #1.
I made it to the exact spot at which I had stopped years earlier, somewhere in book 5… and stopped again. Something inside me had died. More likely, that something inside me had committed suicide at the realization that Achilles has a better chance of catching that tortoise than I ever do of reaching the (still unwritten!) end of the Wheel of Time series.
And so Robert Jordan and I parted ways somewhat messily. I love Mr. Stephenson’s writing, and would rather not risk a repeat of my nasty Wheel of Time breakup. Any suggestions?
Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again
One of the many advantages of Netflix is that Michele and I have been able to watch many classic films unavailable at the local movie-rental store. And one advantage of having a wife with good taste in films (ask her what her favorite movie is, and she’ll point confidently to The Third Man; ask me, and I’ll freeze with indecision while trying to weigh the relative merits of Star Trek II and The Empire Strikes Back) is that she makes sure that our Netflix queue always contains at least some movies with class and/or lasting artistic merit. What this all means is that this weekend Hitchcock’s Rebecca arrived in the mail.
It was excellent–I’d go so far as to say that it’s my new favorite Hitchcock movie. The acting was uniformly excellent (I don’t know if Joan Fontaine plays that same role in all of her movies, but her doe-eyed innocence was perfect for her character here), and each scene was carefully crafted to carry an almost palpable emotional punch. And who would’ve thought that a character who never once appears on camera or speaks a single line of dialogue could have such a tangible presence in almost every single scene?
So if you haven’t seen it, you’re in for a treat. Wait for a nice cold winter evening to come along (easy enough to do here in Michigan) and give it a viewing. It’s a good one.
Pilgrimage to the game store
On Saturday, Michele had to journey to the University of Chicago, there to spend the afternoon doing research in the stygian depths of the Regenstein stacks. Walking through those stacks sure brought back the memories, so I quickly decided to abandon Michele to her research and strike out on the ultimate gamer’s pilgrimage: a trip to Games Plus, the biggest game store in Chicagoland.
Games Plus (hereafter GP) is a really cool store, and if you’ve got even a passing interest in RPGs or board games, you really ought to make a trip out there at least once in your life. They stock just about every in-print game in existence, and plenty of out-of-print games as well. The clerks are friendly and know about the games they sell. It is pretty much impossible for me to visit GP and not find something I want to spend money on, which is why it’s probably a good thing that I live in Michigan and only make it out there about once a year.
The most fun part of any GP pilgrimage, aside from tracking down and purchasing expensive game books that you don’t need, is watching the other customers. There are always several other gamers drifting through the aisles with you, scouring the shelves for bargains, and I enjoy taking note of the games over which they pore. Look–over there’s a guy scouring methodically through all the old GURPS books, perhaps hoping to fill the holes in his 3rd edition collection before the new 4th edition takes over; there’s a middle-aged gamer (perhaps escaping, for a few precious hours, the responsibilities and hectic-ness of work, family, children?) trying to decide whether to spend his hard-earned cash on Sengoku or that Tribe 8 sourcebook he’s been thinking about getting. And here’s me, standing quietly in the aisle next to them both, mentally weighing my budget and deciding whether to go for The Riddle of Steel, which feels like it should belong in any gamer’s library, or Ex Machina, which is the cyberpunk sourcebook I’ve been wanting. What are we all doing here?
And then, of course, in the middle of the store, a group of middle-aged guys is gathered, all painting miniatures and loudly discussing the State of the World. The conversation is always loud enough to be easily overheard from any point in the store, so even if you don’t want to eavesdrop, you don’t really have a choice. Among the conversational points discussed at much length and at great volume:
- Can you believe that kids these days don’t even care about World War II? I mean, I once talked to this kid who couldn’t recognize the silhouette of a Tiger tank–I mean, is there any more recognizable tank in the history of the world? Kids these days.
- At Gencon last year, I got really mad at this group of gamer punks, and I wanted to kick their scrawny little butts. But I didn’t. I used to be more aggressive than I am now.
- The world sure would be a lot better without those nasty Republicans! Remember how they worked over Jimmy Carter? The world was a vibrant green paradise under Jimmy Carter’s benevolent and watchful eye, until the Republicans ruined it all.
- Mechs in the Battletech universe are way too weak compared to other battlefield units. Battletech would’ve been way cooler if they had listened to all the advice I gave few decades ago when I was a playtester for the game.
At least, those are a few of the conversational pieces that I happened to overhear while browsing around. Strangely, the noisy conversants aren’t really annoying at all; they sort of add to the general ambience.
But after a while, it was time to head back to the U of C to pick up my beloved wife; my time at the game store was over. I made my purchasing decision (Ex Machina), exchanged witty banter with the friendly cashier, and headed out. The distinctive Gamer Conversation(TM) taking place at the miniatures-painting table faded into the background; last I heard of it, the discussion had now moved on to mocking derision of somebody’s failure to properly employ some German 88‘s in a bitterly-fought clash of arms the night before.
All in all, a very good trip. Games Plus, you rock–see you again next year.
Democracy in action
Who would’ve thought the Iraqi elections would go so well? Or that the insurgency would fail so miserably in their promised efforts to undermine them? Count me among those who hoped for the best, but feared for the worst. Some of the pictures floating around the web–of everyday Iraqis (and Iraqi women!) defiantly brandishing ink-stained fingers–speak louder than an entire decade’s worth of hot air and empty promises from Western politicians and bureaucrats.
I think that this is an answer to prayer in the most direct sense. I think that people and congregations the world over have been praying that the elections would go well, and that God answered those prayers. There are no doubt countless problems ahead, but let’s hope this is just the first of many victories by the Iraqi people over the dead-end barbarism of an increasingly irrelevant insurgency movement.
Things have gone wrong and will undoubtedly do so in the future. But for the moment, let’s set aside the (sometimes justified) pessimism, and rejoice in a genuine leap in the right direction. Way to go, Iraq!