Non-Euclidean 8-Sided Dice

So Saturday night, after my weekly roleplaying session, I posted this:



And of course, people didn't really understand what I was talking about. And it was one of those things where I sound like a right lunatic when I try to explain it, but if you can just SEE what I'm talking about you'll realize I'm not crazy.

Well, not crazy because of this, at any rate.

So I dug out my webcam and made a video so you could see for yourselves. You can SEE and UNDERSTAND.



[gibbers quietly in the corner]

Supernatural is My Little Pony for Girls

     Wait, wait, wait, come back! I can back that up. I have sound logic behind that bizarre statement, I promise!

     So some years back now, Hasbro rebooted the My Little Pony franchise for its Hub network under the supervision of animator Lauren Faust. It was full of rounded, varied female lead characters, lots of bright colors, and stories with warm and fuzzy morals. It was also pretty well written for what was supposedly targeted at such a young crowd. And despite being targeted at young girls, it caught on with older viewers of both genders.

     Some years even before that, a show called Supernatural was launched. It's a show focused around a brotherly bro-mance, hunting monsters, going on adventures, and driving around in a classic Impala listening to classic rock. It's dark, violent, and full horrific imagery. It also caught on like wildfire among the female demographic.

     On paper, each of these shows could not be more different, but the way they've been embraced by viewers and fans not only outside of their intended demographic, but the nearly polar opposite of that intended demographic, is startling. On paper, you couldn't convince me that pastel ponies having non-violent adventures would appeal to grown men, and you couldn't convince me that the bloody, bro-fueled horror adventures set to AC/DC and Kansas would be such a hit among women. Even if Sam and Dean are amongst the prettiest men on television.

     The resemblances don't stop there. We've all heard of the more questionable side of MLP fandom. The plushy with the "pocket" in the rear end. The Rule34 fan art. The people that don't make it into the brony documentaries. But the Supernatural fandom can be... well..

     So one of the main draws of the show is the brotherly chemistry between Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, and in later seasons the cameraderie between Jensen and Misha Collins's Castiel. The deeper parts of Supernatural fandom are full of slash fiction of of Sam and Dean, and the Castiel/Dean slash shippers have gotten vocal enough that Ackles himself refuses to address the issue anymore, earning him the ire of such esteemed 'news outlets' as DailyDot and pretty much half of Tumblr.

     That's not to say it's all unpleasant fandom, though. Both shows have pretty dedicated following, and some of the fan-art and music to come out of the MLP crowd is pretty impressive. There's a long running joke that the Supernatural fandom has a response gif for any situation. MLP has brought together some otherwise unpopular and awkward people and formed some friendships in the real world.

     But when it comes right down to it, these are two shows which were clearly marketed to a specific demographics that defied odds and became a hit in a completely other demographic. So, back to my original point: Supernatural is My Little Pony for girls. Makes sense now, at least to me. Is this just a pair of successes in marketing and development for the respective programs, or is it a triumph in fandoms bucking what's expected of them and showing love for something not necessarily "created for them?"

WNW: Or as the British call it, "a spanner"

For those who don't get the title, clearly you weren't around the internet during summer 2012.

Anyway, enjoy this "not precisely SFW" montage of techno music, written profanity, and Jeremy Clarkson. H/T to Salem for posting this on his Facebook wall a while back.





Also, now I have the phrase "edging like a mad cunt" permanently embedded into my lexicon of profanity.

[insert expletives here]

You guys.

YOU GUYS.

I tell you to bring your A game, and you totally show me what you've got.

In 36 hours, you fully funded Squeaky's goal.  That's so amazing I need to invent new profanity to describe its amazing-ness:

You coyvers are simply apefling, you know that? Such splendid goibbleknockers, the lot of you. Why, I'd prusk any one of you as thanks for this (but never on the mouth). 

So because you fulfilled your end of the bargain, it looks like I have to...

... pony up.





Except there's just one small problem:  I didn't expect this fundraiser to be finished in thirty-six karglefluging hours.  Plans are in motion, guys; plans for me to meet up with Oleg and do a multiple-picture shoot. I am absolutely not backing out of this, but you're going to have to wait for these plans to come to fruition before I properly expose myself.  You'll see my face by September 1, if not before -- it all depends upon how quickly things come together. I just need y'all to understand why there isn't a picture here on this blog right now.

But since I'm making you wait, let's sweeten the pot with some Stretch Goals to encourage folks to keep donating. Extra donations are really useful, because this funding goal was the minimum amount Squeaky needed, you see -- it doesn't cover extras like follow-up appointments, medications, or crablogging anesthesia, of all things, it just covers the operation itself.  And I think we all know how unexpected expenses can pop up after surgery!

So let's start this off easily.

• $1600:  I will sing my Doctor Doom Filk, "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Marvel Mastermind" and post the recording here. I make no guarantees as to sound quality. 

• $1700:  I will do a dramatic reading or recite a monologue as chosen by a vote. Alternately, you could have me do a spoken word version of one of my blog posts, or do silly voices and impressions. 

• $1800:  Bonnie and I will sing a duet of your choice. Again, quality is relative, although she is a trained opera singer so the result should be slightly better. 

• $2000:  I will have Oleg take a special picture of me. This will NOT be cheesecake! However, if you want something like "Dress up like a Hogwarts character and pose with your Avada Kedavra Mosin,"  I could do that. Basically, think "gunnie cosplay."

• $3000:  I might be persuaded to do a bikini pic. I warn you, however, that this isn't nearly as titillating as you might think. But if you want something fun, flirty, pin-up, etc, this is your goal. You poor bastards.

• $5000:  Video of me, in a bikini or other piece of clothing, holding whatever gun or prop you want (nothing illegal or disgusting), singing whatever song you want.  I'm particularly fond of the notion of me singing "Tiptoe through the tulips" wearing a Russian peasant dress and ushanka, carrying a Mosin-Nagant...

Show me what you've got, shpdoinkers!

Dreamweaver...

Since the last time I talked about my random dreams was well-received, and I've had a couple zany ones since, I thought I'd share. 

July 7, 2013:
Last night's dreams were brought to me by Michael Bay: awesome and spectacular, but making no sense whatsoever.

First I was a cat burglar who knocked over an oil lamp that destroyed a library, thus revealing the location of a little boy who was being held captive by a creepy evil man (possibly a lich or a vampire); then the boy's father was doing a daring rescue via an underground cavern filled with critters that swarmed like a Harryhausen flick and he had to dodge them using only infrared goggles and lamp.

Then I was a member of GI Joe and I was doing an in-flight insertion to a hijacked plane while wearing an Accelerator Suit alongside my partner, Mossad agent Lewis Black, to defeat the terrorist leader, a one-armed Danny DeVito.

And then finally, I was at a fancy dinner where a blonde Guy Pearce, with stretching powers, matched wits with evil mastermind 1990s Val Kilmer, in what was possibly the yaoi-est version of Mr. Fantastic & Doctor Doom that I've ever seen.

I wish to state for the record that even though the dream did not say, I am unsure if Lewis Black's character was male or female.

July 17, 2013:
Right before the alarm woke me up, dreamed I was some kind of viking adventurer with shield and axe and epic beard. I also had a basso profundo voice* and was singing:

Let's go
on adventure!
Let's go
on a quest to find
the BEEP BEEEP BEEEP ALARM

Dammit. I will never find out what I was questing to find.

*Seriously. Imagine James Earl Jones singing the Kalevala. It was that awesome.

Since I'm on the subject, will anyone else admit to having gender-bent dreams? I know it happens to other people, too, and I would LOVE to hear about them.

Merry Zombiemas

Christmas always makes me think of zombie movies.

No, really, it does. Stop thinking about the hustle and bustle of shopping and think, instead, of silent nights. Everyone has gone to bed; streets are dark, houses quiet. And yet, lights everywhere: not enough to read by, but enough to illuminate houses and sidewalks such that a body could walk around without needing a flashlight. The odd colors cast people and buildings in strange new perspectives. And of course, the crazy shadows and shapes on lawns and roofs formed by unlit decorations. Anyone, any thing, could be out there.  Isn't the true lesson of Santa Claus "You don't know who's watching, so shut up and go to sleep"?

Christmas at night carries that unspoken "Do not wake the house" vibe. Shhh. Be quiet. Move about the house navigating only by the light of the tree and the outdoor decorations. Look outside the windows and see shapes that normally aren't there. Muse upon how it's hard to tell the difference between a house with sleeping occupants and a house that has been abandoned because of outbreak. Try not to think about that scene in 28 Days Later where Jim is watching home movies late at night in his parent's house -- a quiet, shadowed house, much like the one you're in -- when an infected bursts in through the window and attacks him.

Red. Red everywhere. Worse, red contrasted with white. It doesn't get more "blood on the snow" than that. Christmas is a celebration of life while surrounded by death -- snowstorms, bitter cold, hypothermia and starvation and death. It's an embarrassment of riches, a ritualized gorging upon food and presents while lesser animals die alone in the cold. Life is always about eating, about something dying so that another can live. Blood on the snow.

Even the poem "The Night Before Christmas" teaches us to observe noise discipline, maintain vigilance at night, and beware of strangers entering the house via unorthodox and unsecured entry points. It's a good thing Santa doesn't want to kill you all in your beds, is what I'm saying. "If you're good little boys and girls, you survive to see morning" becomes a heck of a moral.

Are jingle bells for merriment, or are they an improvised perimeter alarm? Or did someone have a relative who got bitten, and so they tried to "bell the cat"? Because they don't sound merry to my ears -- they sound frantic.

So for me, the question isn't why Christmas makes me think of zombies. The question is, why doesn't it make you think of zombies?

Last Night's Dream Oddity

So occasionally I have odd dreams.

Last night, I dreamed I was living with Abby Sciuto of NCIS fame -- not sure if we were roomies or lovers, my dreams can be annoyingly vague on certain interesting details -- and since it was morning in my dream, she was making breakfast for the both of us.

Readers may find it of interest that in said dream, Abby's preferred morning-wear is a black silk kimono with a pink bat pattern.

Anyway, she was fixing waffles and insisted upon adding what looked like blackcurrant to the batter, even though she called them blackberries. She explained that this would stain the batter an almost black color and would result in what she called "goffles" -- goth waffles, of course.

I explained that I did not care to eat anything black for breakfast, and that's when she started growing scales, and fangs, and generally turning into either a dragon or a dinosaur, I'm not completely sure.

The next thing I know, I'm in a field, mounted astride an animal that is charging towards an opponent. It's not clear if this animal is Dino-Abby, but since that makes the dream more awesome, I'm going with that.

I don't recall what I'm wearing, but I am aware that my Mosin-Nagant, with its bayonet attached, is clutched under my arm like a lance. And I'm charging someone who is either Sonya from Mortal Kombat, or Sue Sylvester from Glee, and who is twirling what appeared to be two rifles (not sure if they were Mosins, but they had wooden furniture and were bolt-action) chained together at the buttplate like they were rifle-nunchucks.

I can't tell you how disappointed I was that I woke up.

Sometimes I wonder

... what the various subscribers to this blog think when they come upon its varied and contradictory output.

The bronies who subscribed after my weeks-long opus on My Little Pony were probably shocked  and horrified to discover that I like to own and shoot guns.

Gunbloggers, on the other hand, probably (quite literally) wondered "What is this happy horse shit?" upon seeing that a fellow shooter also enjoys magical talking pastel cartoon ponies.

The role-players are probably taking sides with one of the above groups, and the creative-writing people are sitting in a corner smoking cigarettes and muttering about when I'm going to put out more Curse/Or.  The only people I think I please on a consistent basis are the Discordians.

Fear, confusion, and annoyance. My work here is done.  ;)

Random Disease Generator

Sometimes it is necessary to simulate diseases in RPGs. For GMs who desire either an element of randomness instead of assigning diseases with known symptoms, or who wish to create a truly exotic illness (extraterrestrial, magical, etc), consult the following tables. You will need at least one 12-sided die and one 30-sided.




Type of Disease
1-4       Minor Illness. Roll once on the Minor Symptom Table.
5-6       Advanced Minor Illness. Roll twice on the Minor Symptom Table.
7-9       Major. Roll once on the Major Symptom Table and three times on the Minor Symptom Table.
10-11   Advanced Major. Roll twice on the Major Symptom Table and four times on the Minor.
12        Life-threatening. Roll three times on Major Symptom and



Contagion
1-3     Not contagious.
4-7     Mildly contagious (example: fluid exchange). Basic sanitary procedures (wearing gloves, no open wounds, scrubbing after interaction) will prevent infection.
8-11   Fully contagious (example: aerosol from sneezing and coughing inhaled or lands on mucous membranes). Masks and eyeshields are needed in addition to basic sanitary procedures.
12      Massively contagious (example: just breathing the same air). HAZMAT gear necessary to avoid infection.



Minor Symptoms
1     Runny Nose
2     Clogged Sinuses ("stuffed-up head")
3     Mild fever (99-101 degrees)
4     Nausea/upset stomach
5     Chills
6     Sweats
7     Body aches
8     Headache
9     Vertigo
10   Coughing
11   Sneezing 
12   Roll twice on this table



Major Symptoms
1     Vomiting (results in malnutrition)
2     Diarrhea (results in dehydration)
3     Massive Fever (102-107 degrees)
4     Crippling body/joint pain  (may result in hit point loss)
5     Weakness/Inability to stand or move
6     Incoherence/Delusions
7     Spasmodic Coughing
8     Fluid/mucous buildup in lungs
9     Muscle spasms (example: tetanus)
10   Uncontrollable trembling (neurological damage)
11   Blood coming out of places it shouldn't
12   Coma



Method of Cure (all results are cumulative)
1-3   Bed rest
4-6   Plenty of clear fluids
7-8   Antibiotics
9      Intensive care ward (conventional medicine)
10    Experimental drugs/retrovirus/DNA therapy (unconventional medicine)
11    Pray to whatever gods there may be
12    You have no chance to survive make your time




Name Generation
(note: if in a Sci-Fi RPG, the PC doctor who discovers the disease may name it himself)

The structure is: Noun ('s) Adjective Symptom.

Noun
Clearly there are too many to list. Examples include: Name of discovering doctor; name of first patient; name of location where disease first manifested; name of people with whom the disease is endemic. If stuck, name generators may be of use. 


Adjective (pick one or roll randomly)

1. Aching
2. Agonizing
3. Awful
4. Bloody
5. Burning
6. Bursting
7. Dripping
8. Excruciating
9. Gooey
10. Horrendous
11. Horrid
12. Ichorous
13. Insufferable
14. Intolerable
15. Liquid
16. Mucosal
17. Painful
18. Painful
19. Raw
20. Rugose
21. Scabrous
22. Severe
23. Slimy
24. Squamous
25. Throbbing
26. Thunderous
27. Unbearable
28. Worse Than Death
29. Wracking
30. Wrenching

Symptom

Take the most life-threatening symptom (or in the case of minor ailments, most inconvenient) and use it or a synonym.

Example of use:
An intrepid space-explorer who contracted an intestinal bug that results in fever, cramps, spasms and diarrhea has a case of the Glorflaxian Thunder-Shits.

Arse Not Found

Once again, I'm late in updating this blog. But this time I have a good excuse!

I can't be arsed to update.

For those of you non-proficient with British slang, it doesn't mean I have no arse. Oh, heavens no. Were that it were so! It is a dream of mine to be, as the French say, sans arse.

The opposite of sans arse is con arse, which is Spanish for "chili with meat." And my chili is very meaty. Very, very meaty. My chili brings all the boys to the yard... and gives them gas. Which is very sexy, I think you'll agree.



As an aside, I think someone should invent a font titled Sans Arse. I would totally use it for everything. And then when I missed a deadline, I could say "Sorry I'm late, but it's my font's fault. It couldn't be arsed."

So in conclusion:

• I have an arse
• I can't be arsed
• Profit!

Ich bin ein Berliner

Rebooting Blog....

Oscillation Overthrusters initialized.

Searching for Schroedinger's Cat...

Cat found. Waveform collapsing.

Reanimating cat....

Reticulating splines...

Locating Pumpkins....

Engaging Goth music...

Begin rhythmic lurking...

You are now Lurking Rhythmically.

Welcome back, Erin. It has been 25 days since your last blog post.

Searching for a Damn...

Damn not found. Do you wish to give a damn (Y/N)? N

Damn not given.

Phoning in current post (Y/N)? Y

Engaging cheap humor... engaged.

Please choose from the following menu:

1. LOLcat
2. YouTube video
3. Photoshopped picture
4. Lorem Ipsum text
5. Random Discordianism

Select: 5

Chaos engine engaged...

I AM A JELLY DONUT

A Berliner Pfannkuchen (also called Berliner Ballen, Berliner, or Bismarck in Canada) is a predominantly German and Central European doughnut made from sweet yeast dough fried in fat or oil, with a marmalade or jam filling and usually icing, powdered sugar or conventional sugar on top. They are also sometimes available with a chocolate, champagne, custard, mocha, or advocaat filling, or with no filling at all. The filling is injected using a large syringe after cooking.

Heed ye well the Lesson of the Jelly Donut, and seek ye to emulate its noble virtues!

• Have a sweet exterior, that all may find ye pleasant, yet shapeth that sweetness into a crisp protective coating. Remember, bullshit and a pleasant smile turneth away wrath surer than bullshit alone.
  
• Be substantial in the middle, and thusly all shall find ye desirable enough to eat, nudge nudge wink wink, but not so doughy that people look at ye and sayeth "God no, that's so unhealthy I can feel my arteries hardening from here." Because some kinds of hardness be good, and other kinds be bad, and seek ye only the proper kinds of hardness. Or the improper kinds, if that be what ye are into. Eris doth not care who ye screweth, frankly.
  
• Finally, though thy skin be firm and thy middle ample, thy soul must be rich, creamy, and silky smooth, for verily, with whom wouldst thou preferest to hang, a prickly douche or a sweet jelly? Knowest this: a jelly donut which lacketh pleasant jelly is at best only a bun, and mayhaps a fucking waste of thy time and money.
  

Be the Jelly Donut, and seek ye other Jelly Donuts, and cluster 'round them, that ye may more easily be brought together with coffee, and sprinkles, and juice of the orange. AMEN.

Facts about me you'd better find adorable

These are all humorous but 100% true.


1) I never go into a dark room. Ever.

This isn't born out of neurotic fear of the dark but sheer bloodyminded practicality. Sure, I want to avoid stubbed toes and barked shins, but that's not the reason why. No, I do it because in every instance of fiction where a person -- usually a woman -- goes into a dark room without turning on the light, there's something horrible lurking in the shadows.

Do I rationally think there is something waiting the shadows of my bathroom to attack me mid-pee? No. But it's such a trivially easy thing to do, turning on that light; it costs me nothing and potentially nets me everything, i.e. my life.


2) I know my way around my house, in the dark, and can easily make it to a locked room or source or source of weapons in seconds.

This may seem contradictory to Rule 1, but in fact it's a corollary. Sure, I don't want to needlessly expose myself to lurking shadowy peril, but I also don't want to be crippled in case all the lights go out suddenly, whether by thunderstorm or crazed serial Hello Kitty fetishist. Besides, those scenes where Daredevil or Batman beat the crap out of someone in total darkness? Very cool.

So, late at night, once I've made sure that no unauthorized lunatics are in my house, I turn off all the lights and sit quietly on the couch until my eyes have adjusted. Then, in the half-light, I practice my ninja moves, which involve getting into some ridiculous position on the furniture while clutching a bokken. Then I close my eyes and do it in reverse. If I can get down off the curio cabinet without breaking anything, and make it back to my room within bumping into anything, I win.


3) I always look at a chair before I sit, or at the ground before I walk on it.

Chalk this up to living with a Vietnam vet and hearing waaay too many stories about Viet Cong booby traps. People think I'm depressed or avoiding eye contact because my head is down when I walk, but in reality I'm checking for tripwires and bouncing bettys. Again, this costs me nothing if I'm wrong, but has a huge payoff if I'm right.

Also, I never fall in the toilet at night, because I always look before placing my genitals somewhere.


4) When I go to a crowded, public place like a movie theater or restaurant, I immediately look around to find the locations of the bathrooms, kitchen, and emergency exits.

Because you never know when you'll have to evacuate the premises due to fire, a gunman who wants hostages, or a zombie attack.

Plus, bathrooms.


5) I think better in bare feet.

Over-warm feet distract me. Plus, I don't have to worry about tracking dirt onto furniture if I'm barefoot.


6) Sometimes I blog naked.

Like right now! I am so totally naked in front of this computer. Hey, if I think better barefoot, then less clothing = better thinking. That's logic, bitches.