The Nintento Wii: Just Because Something Has Potential Doesn’t Mean it Won’t Suck

My apologies for the short hiatus, folks; things have been busy in our mountaintop lair of late. Utensil uprisings to plan, and all that.

Now, far be it from me, a lowly blogger, to lay the proverbial smack down on a poor unsuspecting gaming console – and one I don’t even own, to boot. But really, what am I going to do, hurt its feelings? I HOPE I make it cry, because quite frankly – and I’m just going to put this out there right now – I think the Nintendo Wii should be ashamed of itself. Sent to bed without dessert, if you will. (Though there’s many a fanboy ready and willing to stroke it to sleep at night, so I don’t feel I’m being too harsh.)

So as not to kick a dead horse too much, I’m going to try to refrain from making wee jokes in this article. It’ll be difficult for me, but if you use your imagination half as much as I do I’m sure you’ll catch them anyway.

I remember the leadup to the Wii’s release. So to speak. (That didn’t count, okay.) All I knew of this mystical new console was that it was white and shiny and, according to their media campaign, would change the face of the gaming industry forever.

I remember going to a friend’s house just after its launch and getting my hands on one of those sleek remotes for the first time. My friend told wide-eyed stories of a gaming revolution to his dubious technologically-challenged father, about how the Wii was going to change the way gaming is perceived; about a transition from the archetype of dungeon-dwelling geeks with no social skills holding basement weddings to cardboard cutouts of Lara Croft, to the heroic, outgoing gamers of the future! Gamers who would get their exercise for the day in a game of Super Mario Galaxy and marry sexy athletic girls in tiny shorts playing Wii Tennis! Yes, my friends, the Wii would change our world – no longer would gamers have to conceal their nerdiness; no longer would they be ashamed to admit who they really are. This was the time for us gamers to merge into mainstream society – a time when we would be accepted among our peers as equals, nay, the cool, trendy technological elite!

Or something like that.

But hey, even if you didn’t buy into the hype surrounding the product, the point is that when the Wii came out it had POTENTIAL. People expected great things, radical things, something which would, if not change the world, at least change the way we enjoyed our gaming experience. It was wielding a real “sword” instead of pressing X a bunch of times. It was using real aim instead of nudging a little joystick to swivel the camera on-screen. Like I said, it was Potential, with a capital P.

I mean, check this guy out:

Ignore his deadpan geekiness for a moment and admit it – that is fucking cool.

Unfortunately, as with every awesome thing ever, it backfired. Our dreams of playing Goldeneye in 3D (aww yeaah) have been crushed. Instead of giving birth to a new, hardcore awesome generation of technologically advanced games and mainstream gamers, the Wii gave birth to a monster. It gave birth to… the Wii-tard.

The future of gaming.

But see, it’s not really the fault of the system itself. The Wii still retains every ounce of Potential that it once did. The fault, I believe, lies with the game developers themselves.

The games. Are TERRIBLE.

The Wii. Makes people fucking retarded.

Instead of appealing to, you know, gamers, the game developers for the Wii inexplicably decided to design games for insipid rave-going tossers who get so fucking stoned in a pathetic effort to look cool they don’t even notice how much the games suck. In an effort to make gaming a social activity and cater to a younger, more retarded age group, they’ve dumbed it down to the point of sheer unadulterated stupidity. It’s the culture jump from the original Star Wars trilogy to Episode I all over again. For the love of god, when will it stop?

I started writing this article after going to a party where everyone got completely wasted and played a game which was basically about manic bunnies and their craaazy antics. There is nothing in the English language which can possibly convey to you how much I despise the idea of a world in which waving your hand around in the air to get a costumed rabbit with ADD to talk as much as possible on a cellphone in a cinema before the usher comes in to bust you is considered entertainment.

Failing that, there are plenty of other wacky adventures the Wii can set you upon! You can even build a city out of cake! They must be compensating for that getting-no-dessert thing.

For Christ’s sake.

There’s a Dinosaur in my Office (or, What the Fuck Happened to my Childhood?)

When you’re a little kid, dinosaurs are the coolest thing ever. Don’t lie; you went through a dinosaur phase too, just like the rest of us. The second they released Jurassic Park our entire generation was done for. When I think back to that time in my life, I remember building blanket forts with my brother to defend against Raptor attack, reading book after book and being able to list ridiculous amounts of dino-facts, watching dinosaur docos with those crappy paper 3D glasses and thinking they were going to eat me (the dinosaurs, not the glasses), sitting through The Land Before Time several hundred times, and making Stegosaurus and Brontosaurus action figures do things God didn’t intend Stegosauruses and Brontosauruses to do together.

So you can imagine my delight, then, when the following headline came up in my work’s internal news bulletin:

“Dinosaur Footprints Seen in the Core Laboratory”

Yessss, I thought, I KNEW it! I’m working for a secret laboratory genetically engineering LIVE DINOSAURS in an underground facility funded by an eccentric old scientist with a cane, but sabotage has set one of the creatures loose and a technician has discovered the ominous muddy footprints of a Tyrannosaurus Rex which ESCAPED and will probably EAT EVERYONE I KNOW!

Unfortunately, upon further reading of the article I found out it wasn’t anything quite so exciting. But that’s most likely for the best. I guess.

The core lab downstairs is actually where my company tests drill core samples for oil or coal or gas or whatever to see if the field they grabbed it from is likely to have a sustainable amount of oil (in this case) there to set up mining operations. But check out what they found:

That right there is a dinosaur’s footprint. No, seriously. An actual one, right here in my office – they put it on display down in the lab so we could all go gawk at it.

The rocks are around 150 million years old; part of the Late Jurassic period, apparently. The sediments are lake deposits with sandy beaches and river channels. When the lake level dropped, red soil developed over the mud and sand. Some of the soil shows local pressure deformation – you can see in the photo – layers of mud up to three centimetres thick have been squeezed upwards and sand has later filled the depressions about seven centimetres apart on either side of the mud mounds.

So basically, given the age of the formation and shore setting of the rocks, what you’re looking at is the cross section (so looking at it from the side, not from above) of a dinosaur’s footprint. You know when you’re at the beach and the sand is wet and mud squeezes between your toes? It’s like that, only 150 million years later. Pretty cool, right? I mean, the scientist presenting it was no Sam Neil, but that’s not his fault.

So, caught up in these dinosaur-related reminiscences of old, I wondered – what the hell happened to my childhood? Because you know what? I don’t care what people say, Jurassic Park is the motherfucking dinosaur BIBLE, okay, but you only need to take a cursory look at current evolutionary theories to see that the entire scientific world has basically called bullshit to everything we were taught as kids.

When poor Pluto got de-listed from the Planet Club, everyone kicked up a fuss, but no one seemed to notice when our good buddies the Velociraptors went from this:

I WILL EAT YOUR FUCKING FACE

To this:

GOBBLEWARRK?

Seriously, what the fuck, that’s just not cool. There it is: my childhood. RUINED. They’re described as “feathered and turkey-sized”. That’s… I mean… it’s pathetic. Hahaha. And that’s just the beginning!

My theory is basically that when scientists were ensuring their discoveries were as hardcore awesome as possible and handing out planet badges willy-nilly, it was back in the early 1900s when everyone was on crack and theorising whatever they damn well pleased on the assumption it would make a totally sweet movie once they got around to inventing special effects and stuff.

Nowadays? Scientists just seem to be intent on being huge dicks and ruining all our fun by doing silly things like proving their theories and using rational thought and not doing hard drugs and stuff. They’re taking back their planets and their dinosaurs and god knows what else and slapping hands after they’ve already been dipped in the candy jar. It’s just bad parenting. ALL I AM SAYING IS JOHN HAMMOND DIDN’T PULL THIS KIND OF CRAP, OKAY.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a blanket fort to disassemble.

Hell on Earth: Japanese 101

So a few days ago, I was sitting in class, minding my own business, when one of my classmates turned to the one beside her and suddenly asked:

“So, I was thinking about it this weekend and…like, I can’t decide. Who do you like better? Sailor Mars or Sailor Pluto?”

The other student replied, “Oh, Sailor Pluto for sure. She’s so cool.”

Needless to say, I killed myself on the spot. But before doing that, I wrote this list.

The Five People You Will Meet In An Introductory Japanese Class

1.) The Anime Freak – Female: Depending on what publication, your dictionary may have a picture of them next to the definition for “Retina-Melting Horror”:

You may remember this person from high school. Think about them then, and then multiply the annoying by about 10. At best, this person will be quietly looking into their binder, attempting to emulate what they believe to be Japanese modesty and serenity. At worst, they will be loud, obnoxious, talk in a high pitched voice, enjoy wearing cat ears around campus, and they will be without a doubt completely and utterly in love with Japan. In the most disgusting way possible. And by most disgusting way possible, I really mean, their very existence causes Japan to sink a little further into the Ocean in horror. Kawaiidesune? ^__^

2.) The Anime Freak – Male: The counterpart of number 1. The members in this category can go one of two ways: They will be surprisingly normal, albeit awkward and …well, in love with anime, or they will be self righteous assholes, who know everything about everything because…well, they watch anime. These are the people who tend to argue with the (Native Japanese) professor about how a word is used in Japan.
***May also be “serious internetters”. Look out for usage of internet memes and jokes IRL.

3.) The Linguistics Major: This person might be taking the class to fulfill a requirement for the major. A number of them seem confused and frightened by Types 1 and 2, but not confused and frightened enough to avoid them. They might sit and awkwardly laugh along to the jokes, or they might simply read a book or talk to the teacher.

4.) The Asian Studies/Japanese Language Majors: These people sometimes overlap with Types 1 and 2, however, we can assume in this article that this references those who do NOT overlap. A good 50% or so of these people are Asian themselves, or mixed. They will usually sit on the opposite side of the room from Types 1 and 2, and will hang their head in shame at every stupid question the teacher has to answer. No, pokemon do not really run around Japan. Yes, Japanese people don’t all love anime. The non-Asian Type 4’s may hesitate in telling others their major, or immediately qualify themselves with “But I’m not THAT kind of Japanese major. I know I’m white, ok?”

5.) The Slacker: These are the Chemistry and Physics majors who just need to take a language to graduate. They might be Korean or Chinese, or possibly even part Japanese. They come to class a little bit late every day, and leave as soon as the bell rings. Interaction with Types 1 and 2 are minimal, and they may occasionally speak to Types 3 and 4 to ask what the homework was. However, most simply want to graduate and get out, and thus, do not care.

So there you go. Enjoy your language class, and remember, UP the highway, not ACROSS the street.

Step Back, Yo.

We have a policy called “Stepback” at the company I work for. Disappointingly, it’s not the instigation of a mandatory employee rap battle, but rather the task of taking a physical step back before commencing maintenance work and analysing whether you have the right tools, materials and training for the job at hand.

It’s a good thing, I think. Stepping back out of the frame a little and giving yourself room to take a breath and get some insight and reflection happening before you jump headfirst into something. No, really, it’s nothing short of philosophically enlightening! And besides, it’s company policy. I’m sure they’ve thoroughly thought through the ideals – what could go wrong?

Since I’m a model employee, here are some ways I’ve been including Stepback in my day to day routine:

Monday
Printer is jammed. Went to fix it, but remembered management’s instructions and took a step back to analyse the situation. Successfully gauged that I am too lazy to unblock it myself. Phoned Service Centre to request a fix.

Tuesday
Lots on my plate today; projects incoming from three different departments and complaints from all three that their own work should have immediate priority. Performed Stepback and established I do not have the correct tools with which to smash my colleagues across the face for their constant interruptions (my cup was in the dishwasher). Went to lunch instead.

Wednesday
Computer refusing to connect to network. Carried out Stepback procedure and ascertained I would be unable to open the window far enough to throw it out after all, as the louvers may impede objects exiting the 6th Floor on the west side of the building.

Thursday
Had a 9:00am meeting today. After performing Stepback from the comfort of my bedroom at approximately 8:52am and consulting with both my pillow and my cat, I informed management further training would be required in areas such as alarm-setting and not staying up late posting on the internet.

Friday
Was unsure how to proceed with a project received from the field, and Stepback made it clear to me I did not have the correct materials and should workflow task to the “too-hard basket”. Re-allocated my expertise to where it was needed most and employed my Solitaire-playing skills to their fullest extent instead, then left early for the Pub.

Alright alright, I know, I’m going over the top. But I do agree with the analytical ideals this policy puts towards eliminating human error, both in a work sense and a general one. The Stepback strategy, though corruptible as my last hard drive when taken out of context, may seem like pure common sense – but you’d be surprised how many serious injuries have been averted by having it in writing on a task sheet.

Personally though, I think the lead we should follow is my coworker’s take on it – she recently proved this work-safe tactic could be applied to more than just routine Pressure Safety Valve inspections when she lent the same principles to the task of cutting off a couple of malcontent branches high up in a tree in her back yard which were planning gravity-related terrorist attacks on the roof of her shed.

Being deathly afraid of heights, she cleverly took the Stepback approach to gauge whether or not she’d had enough champagne to work up the courage to do it – and proceeded to down half a bottle of bubbly before clambering up the tall, unsupported ladder with chainsaw in hand.

Atta girl! Talk about pushing a fine company line.

No coworkers were harmed in the writing of this article.

Conflict Resolution Made Easy

So, I’ve worked with / lived with / associated with my fair share of inconsiderate idiots over the years. You know the type – the date who stands you up, the guest who doesn’t wipe his feet at the door, the neighbour who blocks your driveway, the roommate who hasn’t cottoned on to the fact that his mother isn’t around to pick his shit up off the floor anymore… But after having worked in a professional corporate environment for some time now, I’d unpretentiously assumed all that was long behind me.

Oho. No.

I have a coffee pot on my desk, right – one of those cute little ones just big enough for one; you put your ground coffee in with boiling water and let it brew, then push the plunger down to filter it and BAM, un magnifique café! It’s fucking shiny. It sparkles when I clean it. It’s like the pride and joy of my desk, and no less than FIVE times in the last couple of weeks I have arrived at work to find that not only has someone taken it off my desk to use it without asking, they have returned it SULLIED and UNCLEAN. Wtf!

Now let’s face it, using a coffee pot without permission isn’t really going to cause the apocalypse, but… putting it back without washing it? Are you kidding? Are we in kindergarten? There was water in the bottom and used coffee mess stuck in the filter! They hadn’t so much as bothered to rinse it out! AND they’d left coffee stains beside my keyboard, so not only had our sinister culprit committed these unspeakable crimes, they’d done so mockingly, sitting in MY chair at MY desk!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m generally pretty laid back and I couldn’t care less that someone used it; I just find the whole situation hilarious and bizarre. These are grown adults, working in a large corporate office. What were they thinking? “Oh shit, stupid fucker left personal belongings on their private desk. Ha! I’LL TEACH THEM A LESSON THEY’LL NEVER FORGET!” Gawd. The icing on the cake is that I actually know who’s doing it, and they don’t even smile at me in the elevator.

Now, we’ve arrived at the part of the article where after another line or two of witty repartee I could use the above experience to illustrate a broader view or issue pertaining to the state of the world today, i.e. “Whatever happened to common decency?” or “Why the fuck is it illegal to shoot co-workers, anyway?” …but I am having way too much fun with this. Like, who does this? Seriously. Yes, our story is only half finished, my friends – we have a conflict here which clearly needs to be resolved. So instead of being a good little writer and sitting down to my conclusion, THIS REPORTER took to the streets and asked a range of friends, co-workers and e-buddies:

What would you do in my situation?
Here are some suggestions I got:

#5 – “Hide the coffee pot in the drawer.”
A practical suggestion, to be sure, but lacking in attitude and creativity. No, this is the COWARD’S way out, my friends. And what would you do if they took it OUT of the drawer to use it again? Awwwkward.

#4 – “Confront them about their vile monopoly of your possessions!”
Another valid suggestion; it’s got the conflict resolution covered, but you’d have to be a pretty massive snob to follow through on it. What’re you gonna do, walk up to them and say “Excuse me, but I believe you’ve been using my coffee pot! Your behaviour is illegal and unwanted, and I demand you cease and desist immediately!” Yeah, not gonna happen. Way to act like the biggest geek in high school science, chump.

#3 – “Leave coffee shit in it overnight for them to find in the morning.”
It’s crafty, I’ll pay that. I’m liking the “Give them a taste of their own medicine” angle. At the same time though, I’m dubious as to whether or not it’s going to jolt them into seeing the error of their ways. Twenty bucks says you’ll only have to wash it twice as often.

#2 – “Take their stuff =|”
I like this, it’s got style, it’s got panache. It would probably be the most satisfying feeling on the planet to walk up to the bastard’s desk, ignore them completely, walk off with their mug and come back a half hour later finishing off some raspberry cordial or something in it. Spill a bit on their desk as you put it back down, kinda notice and go “Oh,” but then leave it there anyway. You know. Maybe smile and strike up conversation with the girl sitting opposite. Unfortunately, you’d also look like a pretty gigantic asshole.

#1 – “Leave a post-it note on the coffee pot.”
Now, don’t be fooled – this one struck me as bland and uninventive at first glance… until I got thinking about what the note could SAY. I mean, really, the world is your oyster. You could be polite and just write something asking them nicely not to use it. The phrase “I have Hepatitis” could also play well. At the end of the day though, I’d really just love to see the expression on their face when they walked up and read “If you use it, please be considerate and wash it when you’re done or you are going to get fucking cup-smashed across the face with it. Love M xxx”

So. Any other suggestions?