I know, some people decorate the tree.

Has everyone had a happy holiday season?  Personally, I spent most of the night before Christmas trying to find a way to get my brain back into my head.

Perhaps this requires some explanation...

Having somewhat unexpectedly finished off Arkham Asylum, I thought it might be fun to revisit Fallout New Vegas (the sequel to Fallout 3) with the aid of some downloadable content, or DLC as it is more commonly known.  Personally, I think that DLC is one of the best innovations in gaming for quite a while, allowing game developers to easily add value to a game purchase over time without having to develop a whole new game engine - or having to invest in packaging and disk burning, for that matter.

I purchased two additional modules for FNV and started out with Old World Blues, a visit to the Think Tank at Big Mountain, a hidden scientific base originally dedicated to pure research which later became involved in weapons development as part of the war against Communism.

After the transition from New Vegas, I awakened in the main dome only to discover that while I was asleep, the disembodied brains making up the Think Tank had shared the wealth by removing my brain as well.  Even worse, when they weren't paying attention, one-time Think Tank member Doctor Mobius had somehow stolen my brain and taken it to his dome in the Forbidden Zone.

I eventually fulfilled the main quest for the module by defeating the evil Doctor Mobius and his robot scorpions - well, to be fair, the overly confused and not terribly malicious Doctor Mobius - after which he generously offered to let me ask my brain if it wanted to be reunited with its body.

Of course, my brain wasn't interested, and I was required to find a way to convince my wayward cerebellum to return to its home in my cranium.  Which might not have been too bad until I discovered an unexpected glitch in the game which stuck my brain in a loop of reminiscences about shared memories (if one can share memories with their own brain...anyway, you get the idea.)

But let me tell you, whatever the challenges of overcoming my brain's distaste for life in my body might have been, they were nothing compared to the challenges of getting the damn game to function properly, a challenge made even more difficult due to the need to reboot the computer every time the program started to loop.

The down side of the sort of freedom offered by an open world game like Fallout is that it's impossible for game developers to anticipate every possible configuration that a player might create, and as such it's not uncommon for bugs in the software to prevent players from accessing certain portions of the game.  Generally, there's only one solution:  reload a previous save of the game and change as many parameters as possible going into the nonfunctional area.

So - back out into the crater containing Big Mountain to kill some more of my fellow Lobotomites (I wasn't the only visitor to be relieved of their grey matter) until I leveled up and felt that I could take another shot at the buggy brain conversation. To help load the dice, I did everything I could to alter the parameters before initiating the conversation with my brain: dropped some weapons, loaded some Intelligence and Persuasion modifiers, and even stood in a different place in the dome.

And then, after all that, although I managed to get past the problem and my brain finally agreed to rejoin its body, I unwittingly went through the wrong exit at the end of the game and launched the "He decided not to restore his brain" conclusion.  At which point I wrote the whole thing off as a lesson in humility, and left my brain in a bottle.  And you know what?  There were no problems starting the next module without a brain.  This may well be some kind of larger editorial comment on computer games - or at least on the players.

 - Sid

A cracking gift!

Today at work my department had its seasonal potluck luncheon and Secret Santa gift exchange, and I have to say that it's a pleasure to work with people who don't fool around when it comes to gift selection.  Someone showed the remarkable good judgement required to get me a Wallace and Gromit Liquid Clock 7000, a toy so dangerous to assemble THAT IT CAME WITH A SET OF ACTUAL SAFETY GOGGLES.  Yes, Glen Williams received a radio controlled car that would drive up the wall, but hey, safety goggles, Glen - SAFETY GOGGLES.

And, and, it works.  The clock is powered by a simple battery made of zinc and copper strips in vinegar (orange juice was the other option for an acid - sorry guys, but vinegar has a much longer unrefrigerated shelf life) and after carefully following the assembly instructions, I now have the digital clock cheerfully ticking away.

My only complaint is that the name is too simple for a Wallace invention.  It would have to be something like the Liquid-powered Clock-o-matic 7000 to really qualify.

On the other hand, I'm not so sure about where I myself qualify on the "Only for use by children over ten years old" scale.  Because, well, I'm still pretty excited about the goggles.

 - Sid

P.S.  Is there anyone in the audience who doesn't know about Wallace and Gromit, Great Britain's cheese-loving, tea-drinking, invention-building, stop-motion marvels?  A Grand Day Out?  The Wrong Trousers?  A Close Shave?  The Curse of the Were-Rabbit?

An Unexpected Journey?

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit.

The first part of Peter Jackson's Hobbit Trilogy made its debut on Friday, and reviews indicate that it's very well done, very much in the spirit of Jackson's work on The Lord of the Rings but perhaps more approachable for the average viewer.  Reviewers also speak very highly of Martin Freeman's performance in the role of Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit who unexpectedly finds himself taken from his quiet if slightly stuffy life in Hobbiton to participate in an epic quest involving dwarves, trolls, wizards, elves, orcs, a dragon and his horde of stolen treasure, and, of course, a magical ring.

None of this is a huge surprise. Peter Jackson has a proven ability to visually portray Tolkien's Middle Earth, and it may well have been for the best that Guillermo del Toro was unable to fit The Hobbit into his directing schedule. However, I'm a little concerned about the fact that it's the first of three movies:  An Unexpected Journey will be followed by The Desolation of Smaug next year, and the trilogy will conclude with There and Back Again in 2014.

My paperback copy of The Hobbit is 272 pages in length, as opposed to the 1008 pages of The Lord of the Rings.  Word count is perhaps a better indicator of relative size - counts vary depending on what's included (chapter headings, appendices, etc.) but online sources have The Hobbit at 95,674 words, and The Lord of The Rings weighing in at 468,420 (not including the appendices).  Short answer, The Lord of the Rings is about four times longer than The Hobbit, and yet the movie adaptation of The Hobbit is apparently going to be about the same length as the Rings series:  three movies and nine plus hours.

I gather from quoted comments by Peter Jackson that some of the extra time will involve Gandalf's various travels and adventures during the time he spends away from Bilbo and the dwarves, and logically there's a lot of room to expand battle scenes and Bilbo's time spent hiding in the palace of the Elvenking and so on.  Even so, I'm worried about story for the sake of profit over story for the sake of story.

I have a lot of confidence in Mr. Jackson, but I also realize that moviemaking is a business.  On that basis, I can easily imagine a meeting in which a group of investment-minded suits suggest that three movies would very likely make three times as much money as one movie, hint hint hint.  In support of this, there's a common thread in reviews of An Unexpected Journey regarding parts that seem to drag on too long, or which have been enormously extended from the original text:  "Things that the book mentions in one sentence are given entire scenes."

I have tentative plans to see the first installment of The Hobbit between Christmas and New Year's, and I hope to go in with an open mind.  But I have to admit that I'm a bit worried that the extra content may mean that Bilbo Baggins isn't the only person going on an unexpected journey. 

 - Sid

Preferably later.

 "God, it's the end of the world, and I'm still 15 minutes late." 

Penny, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

By the way, speaking of the end of the world, has anyone heard anything new about December 21st?  You know, when the 13th Mayan b'ak'tun* runs out?  Personally, I'd like some kind of solid information about exactly how the world is going to end, it would be a lot easier to prepare. In fact, other than a few end of the world parties, no one seems to have put a lot of planning into this whole thing - there's been no debt holiday, we haven't been told to stay home from work, and as far as I know there hasn't been a single end of the world riot yet.

For that matter, is anyone still tracking the sinister alien objects that were due to arrive around now?  That whole thing seems to have fallen off the map, which is surprising under the circumstances.  Or has it?  Maybe there's a lot more planning going on than we think...

Seriously though, there's been a number of these apocalyptic predictions over the last few years - you know, purely on a statistical basis, sooner or later one of these clowns is going to be right.

 - Sid

*  Did we all get our Olmec As A Second Language credits at university?

Apocalypse Later.

 "Let me put it this way. We lost the Stanley Cup and we rioted.  What would we do if we couldn't put gas in our cars?"

Donovan Hides, TIR Science Correspondent

I’ve just finished reading John Varley’s Slow Apocalypse, in which an rogue bio-engineered micro-organism destroys the world’s petroleum supply by first solidifying it and then making it explode. The result, of course, is the downfall of civilization, after which it's every man (and woman) for him (or her) self, accompanied by widespread rioting and looting, biker gangs roaming the streets (presumably having shown the foresight to stock up on gasoline) and starvation and disease taking their toll on the population.

It was an interesting read, although somehow surprisingly low in drama. To be fair to Varley, I'm willing to admit that I’ve become a bit jaded - I think I may have been to the end of the world one time too many, as per Robert Silverberg. However, unlike zombie apocalypses, giant asteroid apocalypses, alien invasion apocalypses, global warming apocalypses and all-the-electrical-stuff-stops-working apocalypses*, Varley’s end of the world scenario is something that I could see as a very real possibility under the right circumstances. The question of what happens when fossil fuels run out has been a looming spectre for decades now, and all Varley has to do is accelerate the process.

The title of the novel reflects the fact that there is a four month spooling up period during which the governments of the world are apparently aware of the problem. In the case of the U.S. authorities, inadequate stopgap measures such as fuel rationing and car pooling are instituted while they attempt to surreptitiously deal with the situation, after which the penny drops and everything rather suddenly goes to hell in a handbasket.

Varley’s story is set in California, with most of the action taking place in Los Angeles - where better to start a disaster that involves not being able to drive?  More importantly, Los Angeles exists in a desert, apparently completely dependent on outside sources of food, water and energy, all of which would quickly run out if the transportation system was disrupted.

Varley also loads the dice in favour of chaos. Not only do Los Angeles' neighbouring oil fields (and the La Brea tarpits) explode, but there’s a 9.4 Richter scale earthquake and resultant flooding from broken dams, followed by a massive firestorm. On a national level, an attempted military coup adds insult to injury by crippling the ability of the government to address the situation. After the smoke quite literally clears, there appears to be very little left of the various governing bodies, and survivors band together in small self-sustaining** enclaves that exist at an almost pre-industrial level.

But here’s the question: would the elimination of fossil fuels, specifically oil-based fuels (coal and natural gas are unaffected) lead to the end of the world, or, more accurately, to a full-blown Mad Max-style downfall of civilization? Especially if the governments of the world had four months notice?

Given the current interest in global warming, carbon debt, and general environmental awareness, I'd like to think that the answer is "no".  Right now there's no serious incentive for switching to biofuels, but the potential is there. With some minor adjustments, any car can run on ethanol, and diesel engines were originally designed to run on corn oil rather than fossil fuels. It would take more time, but an emergency situation would accelerate the development of vehicles powered by fuel cells, and although hybrid electrical vehicles may not exactly be commonplace,  they're certainly an established technology, as are natural gas vehicles.

I doubt that four months would be enough time for a complete conversion, but it would be plenty of time to first let people know about the upcoming problem, and second to reassure them that solutions and substitutes were being put in place as quickly as possible.  And the punchline?  After all was said and done, it might even be cheaper at the pumps.

- Sid

*Obviously we need to come up with a term for this - I'm open to suggestions.

** There's a slightly snarky little comment at the end of the book about how these communities are completely committed to recycling and reusing absolutely all waste and garbage. Yes, it took a global disaster to make that happen...

Oh, and did I mention that Jaws isn't science fiction?

Dear Space Channel:

Treasure Island is not a fantasy story.  The presence of pirates may add interest to a tale, but pirates per se are not part of the fantasy genre, in spite of what the Walt Disney Company™ and Captain Jack Sparrow would have you believe.  Therefore, fond though we are of Eddie Izzard, there is not one reason in the world for you to be showing the two-part British adaptation of Treasure Island.  Yes, Elijah Wood makes an appearance, but he does not play a hobbit - therefore, as with Mr. Izzard, as much as we may like Elijah Wood, that still doesn't make this a fantasy movie.

If you would like a list of more appropriate genre material for broadcast purposes, I refer you to my July 8th, 2007 letter regarding Dead Calm.

Sincerely yours,

Sid

That's it?

"I want everyone to know that I really appreciate all the hard work. You know, watching you guys is like a night in, watching my favorite movie. What was the name of that movie again? Oh, yes. Attack of the stupid bungling idiots who can't find an bigger idiot running around dressed like a bat! Now get to it! 

[Yawns]  

I'm getting bored."

The Joker, Batman: Arkham Asylum

I recently purchased a copy of Batman: Arkham Asylum, the critically acclaimed award-winning 2009 PC game in which the Joker orchestrates a takeover of the asylum with the eventual goal of modifying the serum which gives Bane his strength, using the resulting Titan formula to create an army of monstrous henchmen, and then dumping the leftovers into Gotham's water supply: result, chaos.

Batman, who has just delivered the Joker to the Asylum when the action begins, has a challenging night ahead of him.  He must fight off an army of inmates from Blackgate Penitentiary who are temporarily at Arkham as part of the Joker's plot, subdue escaped Arkham patients, go mano e mano with Bane, recapture the Joker's equally twisted girlfriend Harley Quinn, deal with an infestation of mutated plants created by Poison Ivy, overcome the effects of the Scarecrow's fear potion - oh, yes, and defeat the Joker, too.

As you might imagine based on Batman's approach to crime fighting, Arkham Asylum is primarily a hand to hand combat game, which kept me from purchasing a copy for a long time (well, three years anyway).  I have a substantial background in first-person shooter games, with the accent on the word "shooter", but as a PC rather than console gamer I haven't been terribly interested in mastering the multitude of keyboard commands that are involved in punching, blocking, dodging and kicking.  However, with the Mac version of the game on sale for $20, I decided that it was worth the investment just to see what all the fuss was about.

I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed playing Arkham Asylum. In spite of my doubts about the fighting system, I was able to hold my own against all comers, but the game doesn't simply require that a player memorize complicated keyboard combinations in order to knock out evildoers.  Batman is outnumbered and alone, surrounded by armed criminals. He levels the playing field by concealing himself and picking off his opponents one by one, swinging from the rafters or making his way through air ducts and hidden tunnels, a strategy which requires careful thinking as much as actual combat skill.

In order to help him accomplish his goals, Batman's utility belt is equipped with the usual array of helpful items:  batarang, grappling gun, explosive spray-on gel, a decoder for electronic locks, and so on.  He also has the option of viewing the environment in "detective mode", which activates scanners in his cowl and allows the player to see hidden elements and scan the capabilities and locations of opponents. The integration of the grappling gun to make the game a three dimensional experience is brilliantly done, and in fact the entire interface - fighting, moving, hiding and investigating - is simple and elegant.

But in spite of all that, I was ultimately disappointed by the game, for a very simple reason.  As I mentioned above, I've spent a lot of time playing first person shooters, and that experience has taught me to expect a certain pattern in gameplay: increasingly difficult scenarios punctuated by boss fights, culminating in a final boss fight which is the most challenging part of the game and which very likely requires multiple attempts to achieve victory.

In Arkham Asylum, I was more aware of the villains that I didn't fight than the villains that I did.  There's no sign of the Penguin, no Catwoman (although, come to think of it, Selena Kyle may not end up at Arkham when she gets caught), Clayface remains behind bars, the Riddler is a constant voice-over presence but never physically appears in the game, and Two-face is just briefly mentioned at the end of the game in a radio call from Gotham.  Batman never actually fights Killer Croc, he just runs away from him, and although the Scarecrow appears several times, his role is more psychological than physical.

When I reached what turned out to be the end of the game, with Batman confronting a Titanic Joker in a makeshift arena, I was actually a bit puzzled and wondering what was going to happen - how the Joker would escape, where the game would go next, how the plot would deal with the Joker's sudden physical dominance, where and how he'd change back. When Batman defeated the Joker and the credits began to roll, I was completely surprised to discover that I was finished, without even really breaking a sweat in the final confrontation.

I can make a case for wanting to avoid following the mainstream, and overall I enjoyed the game, but ultimately I ended up feeling like the Joker:  I appreciated all the hard work, but at the end, I was bored.

- Sid

A Boy and His Spacesuit - Part Three

Show Time.
And finally, the debut of my Hallowe'en spacesuit build.  My apologies for not having a full range of pictures, but by the time I reached the end of the process I was more interested in finishing up and getting to bed at a reasonable hour than in thoroughly documenting the process.

Like any good Canadian, I own a hockey bag, which was just barely big enough to fit everything in for the trip to work.  Even without adverse weather conditions, I literally couldn't see my way clear to wear this outfit for the bus trip downtown.

Some shots from my day at work*:

Overall, I consider this to have been a semi-successful project.  I regret not having time to do more elaborate footwear, the paint didn't really adhere to the plastic bucket that made up the collar, so there was a lot of peeling and flaking, and I would have liked to have added lights and sound effects.  So, not perfect, but still good enough to be one of the prize winning costumes.

Sadly, there wasn't a lot of competition.  As I commented to a co-worker's tweenage daughter who was in attendance, Hallowe'en is the only time of year that you get to dress the way that you really want to dress all the time. Why would anyone pass up that kind of opportunity?

- Sid

*  My apologies for the quality of these shots, or more accurately, the lack thereof. If you've wondered if it's really worth it to buy a digital SLR instead of just using your smartphone, wonder no more.

Oh, and in the interests of mild irony, the young woman in the Top Gun outfit posing with me is the previously cited new employee who is unfamiliar with Jean-Luc Picard's standard handoff to Commander Ryker.

 
Postscript

If you've ever wondered what it would be like to wear a spacesuit, I'll be happy to lend out my outfit to the curious.  It's not as much fun as you might think.  Peripheral version drops to zero, the helmet and coverall raises your body temperature, the gloves limit your manual dexterity, and the weight of the whole thing - boots, backpack, armpieces, helmet, etc. - starts to become a burden surprisingly quickly.

And let's not forget, my creation is a pale imitation of the real thing.  The current NASA EVA suit - the Extravehicular Mobility Unit, or EMU - weighs 109 pounds or 49.5 kg.  It will keep an astronaut alive for 8 hours, with a 30 minute backup life support unit in case of problems with the main system. The main limitation of my hamster habitat helmet was lack of air flow, even with the ventilation holes in the top.  But all I had to do was open the visor or take off the helmet - neither one of which would be a viable option for someone working on the outside of the International Space Station.  If something goes wrong in those circumstances...trust me, it takes very little time to use up all the air in a domed helmet.

A Boy and His Spacesuit - Part Two.

Paint, Epoxy, and Bolts.

My god, it's Steampunk Barbie's spacesuit helmet! was my first thought when I saw this odd item sitting in a recycling bin as I made my way home from a Sunday gym visit.  Provenance aside, it looked as it might be a perfect solution to the helmet problem for my 2012 Hallowe'en spacesuit, so I scooped it up along with a variety of other intriguing bits and pieces of plastic and acrylic from the bin, stuffed it in with my water bottle and towel, and headed home with a renewed interest in costume creation.

A bit of research revealed that my new collection of material was the remnants of someone's discarded Habitrail® dwarf hamster habitat.  (I include this evidentiary screen grab as a response to the mild scepticism with which that information was greeted at work.)

However, I wasn't entirely certain that this unexpected find would actually work as a spacesuit helmet.  In other words, would it fit on my head?  By carefully carving away at the bottom of the habitat, I was able to create a suitable opening, and tried it on.

To my relief, it was a perfect fit.  Now all I had to do was figure out how to make it work...

Obviously I couldn't use it the way it was - some people might be able to work with a pink spacesuit, but my approach to this sort of thing is more old school, so a good coat of paint was in order.  I decided that a mix of classic NASA spacesuit white with orange accents would go nicely with the blue coverall that I'd purchased, so it was off to Home Depot™ to do some shopping for paint, masking tape, and whatever else might catch my eye as a possible spacesuit accessory (which, as it turned out, included a pair of black and white work gloves.)

Before starting to paint, I did basic assembly on the vambraces - forearm pieces, for those of you with no background in the terminology of medieval armour.  I trimmed out the ends of the plastic covers, epoxied them together with some segments from toner cartridges, and the basic pieces were ready to go.  I also chose a selection of ornamental bits and pieces to be painted orange, and I was ready to go.

The only part of the costume that would require special care during the painting process was the helmet, since I wanted the visor left clear. I carefully masked the appropriate area, nominated the far corner of my living room as the paint booth, and started painting.

As the saying goes, don't try this at home. Seriously, don't.  If you live in an apartment, partitioning off and drop sheeting an area for painting is not really a practical thing - if I didn't live alone, or if I still had a cat, I don't think I would have attempted something that resulted in paint fumes, overspray, and general mess to the extent that this project did.

As October 31st came closer, I decided that I'd need to make a few compromises.  My original plan included some kind of elaborate boots and greaves to match the look of the arm pieces, but prudence dictated something more modest - a ten dollar pair of nylon winter boots from the Salvation Army store filled the gap instead. I also had to come up with some kind of collar and backpack for the body of the spacesuit.

One of my Home Depot™ purchases was a four gallon bucket, more for future utility usage than as a costume element, but a quick check showed that the helmet would fit perfectly into the top of the pail.  I sketched out an approximate profile to fit over my shoulders, starting chopping away with a utility knife, and voilá, one slightly retro spacesuit collar, ready to be painted white.

In fact, the whole thing was starting to develop a bit of a retro 50s spacesuit feel, so I decided to continue in that direction with the backpack and the collar.  The chassis for the backpack was a chopped-down infant car seat that someone had put out for pickup, and I added in a selection of colourful bits and pieces to suggest oxygen tanks, a sort of regulator, and so on.  I added some lengths of white plastic hose to connect the air supply to the collar, bolted the collar to the backpack, glued some decorative bits to the outfit, and I was pretty much ready for Hallowe'en.

- Sid

 (And then there were the parts that I didn't use...)

A Boy and His Spacesuit - Part One.

Space Cadet!

In tribute to Tom Corbett, the original Space Cadet.

Did you ever wonder how big your head is?

In the case of most people, it's not a question that comes up in conversation all that frequently, but when I decided to build a spacesuit for Hallowe'en, I needed to have some idea of how large my head was for the purposes of helmet construction.  Result:  the cardboard mockup to the left.

Originally, I wanted to build something quite elaborate and polished in execution, but I quickly decided that I'd have to be prepared to compromise.  After all, I didn't have access to a workshop, I had neither the facilities or the required skills for building molds or doing vacuum forming - and let's face it, this was just something for one day at work.

Nonetheless, I spent some time looking at source material for inspiration: Star Trek, early NASA suits, Red Planet (not a great movie, but interesting spacesuits), Alien, Armageddon, Prometheus, and so on - as the expression goes, aim for the Moon, which seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

As I pointed out in my original posting, a lot of movie spacesuits consist of a fancy overall and a helmet, accessorized with life support packs, electronics, gauntlets, communications apparatus, and so on.  In fact, in the case of the Defying Gravity suits shown below, there isn't really that much in the way of greebly dressing, just the basics.

I've had a casual desire to build some scale model Warhammer 40K scenery for some time, and as a result there was a collection of odd bits and pieces of plastic and metal tucked away in my storage closet.  I already had a discarded ray gun that had probably been part of some kind of lazer tag game originally, and I found a couple of matching plastic covers of some sort, perfectly sized to be forearm pieces when combined with a couple of empty toner cartridges from work.  However, I knew that I couldn't rely on found objects for the entire costume, so I logged onto eBay in search for some affordable (read "cheap") coveralls.

I was fortunate enough to find something that had a slightly different look to it - coveralls with twin zippers that extended all the way from the neckline to the ankle, thereby giving them a sort of 1960s G-suit feel.  They were a Buy It Now item, so no need to wait out a bidding process, and priced within my modest project budget, so I placed an order for a medium outfit in blue.  (In retrospect, the grey and orange would have worked better with my final colour scheme, but c'est la vie, hindsight is always perfect.)

As I mentioned in my original posting, I had found the website for a company selling acrylic domes, and using the mockup of my head as a reference, placed an order for two 11x14 inch oval domes.  Or at least I tried to.  No ill will toward EZ Tops/Global Plastics, I suspect that most of their orders are for larger quantities than my modest request, but, um, guys? It does no harm to answer e-mails in a timely fashion, and order fulfillment and shipping seems to take an awfully long time as well.

As the delivery of the oval domes took longer and longer, I began to worry that I wouldn't be able to finish the costume, and unfortunately started to procrastinate as a result.  After all, if I couldn't make the helmet, there was no reason to work on the rest of the outfit.  And then one Sunday afternoon as I was making my way home from gym, something odd in a recycling bin caught my attention....

- Sid