Monday, 26 October 2009

Stop telling me so much about your personailty!

As anyone who knows me will realise, I'm on Facebook quite a lot. In fact, during the times I'm not, it's not uncommon to get a text asking where I am and if I'm ok. Sadly, most of my Facebook time is taken up by people 'fanning' pointless pages. Now I'm all for allowing your profile to show you more about who you are, since Facebook would become rather redundant if it didn't. But do you really need to let people know you're a fan of breathing? You're really a fan of basic bodily functions? What does that even entail? I really hope no-one comes across your page wondering if you like to breath, and find out you have so much in common when they find that you, too, share the same ability as the entirety of our lifeform. The day this happens is the day I voluntarily submit myself for a Darwin Award.
So many pages are set up just to get a high user base. It's like the creators of each page feel the length (Or depth. I don't want to be sexist.) of their genetalia increases with each member they've fooled into thinking "I should become a fan of Shiny Stuff!"
While I'm on the subject, many groups are created in the same vein. The only difference I can see involves a group having a discussion board, allowing you to tell people "Yes, I also enjoy this random thing you thought of one day and had to clog the internet with." There may be more to it, but since I'm not going to join any of these pages to find out, you can find it out for yourself if you dare.
This wasn't as much of a problem in the past, as Facebook never updated you with who was following what. At the time of Facebook's first layout, fanning and groups weren't much of an annoyance as nobody had come up with the idea yet, and half of it wasn't implemented. (I miss those days.) A short update later, and the highlight reel was made public. This had the advantage of hiding on the side of the screen, so that any fannings were sandwiched between drunken pictures of your friends to gawk over. This latest update is the bane of my existence, however.
It's not that I don't like the layout, because I do. I think I'm in a minority of people who either like the layout, or couldn't give a crap how it looks as long as I can talk to people and make plans. It's because of updates like "[Person] and [too many friends] have become a fan of [crap I don't care about]." It's because I can't see what's going on in my friend's lives because I'm too busy filtering though updates about groups which shouldn't see the light of the internet and their respective clones. It's because Facebook can't give me the option to hide these updates. I have to hide all feeds from the person. This wouldn't be a problem if I didn't care about what half my friends say. Sure, they've made a few mistakes, what with becoming a fan of "Mcdonalds Should Do Deliveries", but that doesn't mean I should miss out on what flavour soup people are eating each day.
What's so wrong with only becoming a fan of applications you want to keep up to date with? It's a useful service if done well. I'm all for becoming a fan of Firefox so you can stay in the know when they update to a new version. But I urge you, stop telling me you're a fan of laughing when people fall over. Its a pretty redundant statement, since if you don't laugh when people hit the deck, you're probably not human.

Saturday, 3 October 2009

Damned memory.

If there's one thing I hate, it's creepy little girls in horror movies.  If there's two things I hate, it's that and forgetting the controls of a game.  The latter is our topic of choice for this evening.

So I fired up Infinite Undiscovery for the first time since the day I bought it at the beginning of summer.  I probably would have had a better time if I hadn't just been pressing A to attack everything which looked at me funny.  I knew there were other attacks, and I knew I could connect to characters.....somehow.  What i didn't know was the effects of each attack, how to equip it, how to connect to someone and how to use their skills.  I took one look at the menus to relearn, but I only learnt what a few moves did.  I have no idea what a trait or title does or how to unlock more.  Buying items was a hassle, as I had to select the amount of each item I wanted BEFORE I said I wanted to buy it.
This is in no way the fault of the game.  All the information is there, and has been told to me before.  It's in every way my fault.  I tend to do this a lot with games.

"This seems like a good game.  That's the tutorial over with, and I've all the information I need!  Bring on the first enemy!  Wait, it's 2am already?  Lectures in the morning I'd better go get some sleep."
*2 months pass*
"Wow, I can't remember the game being this hard.  Wait, I'm supposed to Press A here?  How do I heal again?  This move is too slow, I'm sure I had another attack.  How do I revive characters?  Why am I the only one lef-...oh I'm dead."

No matter what game it is or how addicted I am to it, I'm going to forget how to play it.  Something shinier or an assignment I'm being graded heavily on will makes it's way towards me and the obsession I've been wasting away on will start collecting dust on the shelf.  It's happened multiple times over the years.  The Sims, Tropico, Halo, GTAIII, Guild Wars, FEAR, and Banjo Kazooie to name a few. 

Hopefully I'm not the only one.  Until I can upload game mechanics to my brain, I'm going to keep forgetting them.

Thursday, 24 September 2009


Today has been a day of losses.  Thankfully, all voluntarily, but losses nonetheless.  First off, there was the loss of £1050 from my account.  Ok, it means I get a place to keep my pants, but it also means I have less to spend on the games I don't need, or even want.
Secondly, I allowed a complete stranger to ask me personal questions and stab me twice with needles.  Yes, I have joined the elitest group of people who give away their bodily fluids for free.  Sort of like a prostitute, but with less business sense.  I'm writing this thing while waiting for the light-headedness to kick in, meaning any gibberish can easily be explained away and you won't know any different.  Success!  I'm sure the whole reward of giving blood is just being able to act weird and have no-one think anything negative towards you.  I can work with this.

The not-updating excuse this time is: *drumroll* UNI! 
I somehow managed to pass second year, move house, move to a different place when getting back to Preston, and socialise with people.  Also managed to get a hold of Batman: Arkham Asylum, one of the best games I've had the pleasure of beating for a while.  Not only did it keep me hooked for well over a week, but it also got me digging out Batman comics from all over the internet.
I'd just like to say, the first Batman story (Detective Comics #27 I think) is terrible.  The first few stories are so laughably bad I have no idea how they gained their popularity.  So glad they did though.

Also, fgkjepoudfshvoifdvghs*collapse*

Sunday, 23 August 2009

The facts of life.

- If you’re going to be away from your PC for a weekend with only your laptop, remember to back up your music collection.

- The adverts on the free version of Spotify are VERY annoying.

- Re-learning a year long module is anything but fun.

- I should have revised more the first time around.

- If I fail tomorrow's resit I'm going to cry.

- In no way, will I blame blogging instead of revising.

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

The Chronicles of Banana Hammock

And here I thought helping out with this book would be easy. Instead of writing, I’m some sort of research assistant. What I thought was going to be a quiet existence has turned into a load of collection and exploration quests. Getting irradiated, crippling myself, and testing a (very bad) Molerat repellent is how I spend my days now. And for what? All to help out that damned trader. Moira started off with standard requests, such as going to the supermarket and picking up some food, but now that we’ve nearly finished the Survival Guide she’s writing, the requests are getting more and more ridiculous. For instance, I’m on my way to Rivet City to find out how the place got started. To put it another way, I’m spending my afternoon walking around a ship, asking people how they turned this place into a town. I wish I said no to the guide. I wish I could settle down somewhere in this hell-hole and wait for my time to die. Dukov has the right idea. He has girls, and he has lots of booze. If I didn’t find him so repulsive, I might actually offer to stay and ‘help out’. At least then I wouldn’t be walking through this wasteland all day every day, performing menial jobs for everyone I walk past.
I’ve disarmed a 200 year old bomb. I’ve fixed a leaky water plant. I’ve saved a kid from giant fire-breathing ants and found him a new place to live. And what do I have to show for it? A couple hundred bottle caps and some bobble heads in my house, if you can call it that. Every now and then, I hear a news-story about myself through the static on Galaxy News Radio, but they’re still having trouble with the reception. I’ll follow in my dad’s footsteps soon enough to see what the problem is if this place doesn’t liven up a bit. Though that does mean walking through the city, not that the odd Super Mutant wouldn’t be a problem. They go down pretty easily, but from what I’ve heard, they’re everywhere, and I don’t think my sniper rifle is up to the task just yet. I miss the old days, when the biggest risk to the vault was a Radroach infestation. There’s all sort of weird creatures out here, which people are willing to let me go face for them. For instance, today I’ve came across Radroaches, Molerats, a Super Mutant, and a Deathclaw, all to help research for a book.
All this wandering, and yet I’ve still not answered the important questions. How is there still electricity? How have these cardboard boxes lasted 200 years of weathering? Why does it never rain?

Tuesday, 11 August 2009

To whom it may concern.

Dear spider,
I know you've been there a while. I looked up randomly to see you quite happily sitting (hanging?) on my ceiling, content with your recent catch of two miscellaneous insects. It is with this reasoning that I know you didn't come in through the window and position yourself next to the toilet, as my original thought would have been. Instead I know you made the whole wall and a half journey to sit next to the toilet bowl. Now, I don't have a problem with you being here. I'm quite willing to share out my ceiling/wall space during these cold nights and would hate to be blamed for you going cold.
My main gripe is this: Were they really big eyes coming out of your front, or just really small legs?
If it's the former, my mind switches to the realisation that you climbed down and positioned yourself in the optimal position for watching me pee. This may not be the case, as I'm sure you'll probably be pretty embarrased by having to watch me pee as well, but one does wonder. My privacy is important to me, but I wouldn't want to sabotage our living arrangements just because of a misunderstanding. Maybe there was a juicy fly I was missing out on. Or you just fancied a change of scenery and all this is a horrible coincidence.
Either way, I hope we can resolve this soon, and go back to before.

Wednesday, 5 August 2009

An apocolyptic childhood.

My childhood wasn’t an easy one. As soon as I was out of the womb, my dad insisted on giving me questions, asking me to name myself and asking what sex I was. Honestly, doesn’t the crotch give it away? I told them I was a girl, which seemed to get a positive response. I was hoping if I was wrong, one of the talented doctors would point this out to everyone. Since I got to choose my own name, I chose Banana Hammock. I was in a playful mood and thought the parents would laugh it off and called me Agatha or something. No such luck. This name seems to fit me perfectly. I don’t think they like me much.
Next on the agenda, seeing what the baby will look like when all grown up. Note to self: When I do grow up, remind hospitals that shoving monitors into baby’s faces and making them choose their future appearance really doesn’t help. Though I did find out one thing; my dad’s a little on the insane side. My future self will be a Caucasian female, sporting a green Mohican, and I apparently look ‘just like my daddy’. What did mum see in him?! Speaking of whom, after all the festivities, something happened to her and I was wheeled off into the back. I guess I must have fallen off the crash-cart or something, since I just saw a white light and voices around me, only recognising my dimwit of a father’s.
When I came to, it was a year later and I was in what I presume to be my room with the father. He was in my playpen telling me to walk to him. I saw a toy box so got a little distracted. After jumping up onto the chair, leaping into the box, picking up my favourite teddy and going to show it to the dad, he was only impressed with the walking. The jumping didn’t do anything for you then did it daddy dearest? What about my attempt to read? Ok, all I managed to do was gurgle a bit, but that’s more you can do, standing there with your constant, mindless clapping. After I had a little play, I managed to circle strafe to daddy (another talent going un-noticed) and got told I walk like a pro. Seriously? People have contests for this stuff? Sign me up!
Thankfully, dad left, giving me some peace and quiet. I had a strange urge to have another go at reading that book. Soon after, dad came back. I tried telling him I’d read the book, looking for a little recognition for my reading at the age of one. He was only interested in how I got out of the pen. You didn’t even lock it! It wasn’t that hard! Apparently, I made a friend while I was unconscious, because dad wanted to make me go play. Trying to get rid of me already, eh? I followed, but only because the toys here had lost their appeal, though I did take my ball with me. I must have tripped over or something, since the second I turned the corner, I blacked out again, and heard the same voices as before, as well as a few children’s voices.
This time, it was 9 years later, and it was apparently my birthday. Someone told some Stanley guy that my unconsciousness was due to the bright lights. Hey, that’s the same excuse my dad used 9 years ago! I smell a conspiracy! Though I saw cake, so all was well. Getting to the cake was a bit of a hassle. People kept trying to talk to me. I did get given a ‘pop-boy’ or something, which I’ll have a play with later. The Overseer walked away before I could ask him how I could get Pong on this thing, and it was my dad’s turn to tell me how proud he was. I wonder if he’ll tell me I’m a pro at walking again.
Amata was asking if I’d been surprised. I wanted to tell her ‘Of course I was! I’ve been in a coma for 9 years! Who are you people!?’ but I couldn’t find the right words. After she’d left, I started playing with the Jukebox, but couldn’t get any Slayer on. What a crappy party! Everyone was standing around, and I’d almost forgotten about the cake until the robot shouted. I ran over, plate at the ready for the first morsel of food I’d ever eaten. I’d expected a party in my mouth, but a much better one than in this crummy place. Sadly, I never got a chance to sample the delicious cake as the damned robot destroyed it in an attempt to cut it. Note to self: Install Vista onto him later.
Some old lady gave me a sweet roll as a present. Now, I’m not one to challenge the elderly, but a sweet roll? I could pick this up at the vault shop for a single cap! Some present. I humoured her, and smiled it off, with a hatred towards everyone here, when I was stopped by another kid. The robot had bothered him as well it seems. Before I could set up an alliance against the robot, he demanded my sweet roll off me. I’d had my cake taken from me, I wasn’t about to let this food go to waste as well. I hadn’t eaten in the 10 years I’d been alive! I said something or other about his mother, and he went nuts! I’d ran away for a good while and no-one thought to stop him before he actually hit me. Twice. I hope this place gets infected by bugs or something. Amata made some God-awful pun about Butch’s name and walked off. I should kill her. Or her dad actually, since he’s really putting a downer on this party.
My dad apparently had a surprise for me, so after stealing all the plate, glasses and hats to sell on later, I followed him. I don’t like my father, but I’d rather be with him than at that ‘party’. On my way out, some strange woman stopped to give me a poem as a present. I think I like Old Lady Palmer more now. At least she got me an actual present instead of a note of paper. That’s all I got from her as well. ‘One poem per birthday. What would Butch say if I gave you two?’ I wanted to tell her I think he’d laugh at me for getting two, but she walked off before I could retort. I ran off hurriedly to meet Jonas downstairs, who told me to wait for my father. Why? It’s not his birthday. I stood in the corner wondering what the surprise could be. I hope it’s cake. Stupid robot.
It’s a BB Gun! I asked who I could kill, since I really had my eye set on that robot. Apparently it’s not a toy and could do some harm. I showed him how responsible I could be by shooting him in his dumb face. See? Not even blinded! Reluctantly, I followed him to the target range. After all, my party with all the other ‘victims’ was the other way. After some mediocre target practice, a giant bug walked in! Apparently this is routine, so I shot it in the face. 1. 2. 3. 4 shots to kill it? What a crappy gun. I’m never going to kill the overseer at this rate. ‘That’s one less Radroach to deal with’ was my dad’s response. Does he not know how much bugs reproduce? What a dumbarse. Dad wanted a picture to capture the moment with. They never asked me for my opinion. Maybe I don’t want to be seen with this oaf, but I joined in. I knew I shouldn’t have, since the flash knocked me unconscious again.
Six years older and I was with my dad again. He’s a doctor?! That explains the lab coat. But how did someone so stupid get this job? We’re all doomed. He was telling me I have to take some test, and apparently I was faking an illness. Does he not know what a coma is? Some doctor.
On my way to the text, I saw Amata being ganged up on by Butch and his gang. Now, I don’t like Amata (I still remember that crappy party) but it seemed a good excuse to use my BB Gun. I got into a fight with Butch again, but then realised that someone had taken my gun off me. Bastards!
Though it did only take a few punches to knock him down. Not that the teacher inside the classroom opposite seemed to mind me beating the snot out of Butch. I like this guy. Looking like we’d bonded, I asked if he could take my test for me, using my 16 year old body to appeal to him. Success! I hope I get this guy to teach all my classes. College should be a breeze. I ran out the class, telling everyone else to ‘Go suck it!’ Karma hates me, as the second I contemplated finding out where that stupid robot hangs out, I fainted again. Damn good thing I’d already done the test.
This time, the coma only lasted for three years, and I awoke to find Amata next to my bed. I tried to remember if I’d been to a party last night. After all, college is a time for experimentation.
Seems she’d come in and woke me up to tell me my dad had ran off. I wanted to tell her I didn’t care, but she still wanted me to go and find him outside the vault. I didn’t know such a thing was possible, otherwise I would have ran out while I was still a kid. Jonas was killed as well apparently. After asking who did it, I got told it didn’t matter right now. On the contrary, finding who killed the guy who gave me my first weapon was pretty high on my list of things to do. After telling Amata what she wanted to hear, I left.
Apparently, leaving this place is frowned upon, as guards were searching for me everywhere. Even those bugs managed to get in. If my dad was still here, I could have said “Ha, told you so”, but I just took a mental note to rub it in his face later. Speaking of Radroaches, Butch’s mum was being attacked by some. I said I’d help, but really wanted an excuse to ‘miss.’ Sadly, that’s all I did as every shot hit a roach. I need to work on my aiming.
Upstairs, I saw the robot and a guard who’d been at my party fighting off some roaches. Apparently the robot had a flamethrower. Thank God I never actually went to harm him. More running and I found the overseer. Amata ran off before I could ask her how to take the safety off the gun she gave me. I really didn’t like the overseer. As I caught up with her, she thanked me for not killing her father. It would be a bit weird if I told her I was about to, but needed help in doing it, so I left it and instead concentrated on getting the door to the office open. The key was apparently ‘hidden’ in the overseer’s room in some drawers. Do these people not know about security?
After opening the office, I had to hack the computer to open some door. Having never used a computer in my life, I looked through The Overseer’s stuff for things to steal. In a cupboard was the password for the terminal. To answer my previous question, no. Upon entering the code, I made it to the door below and opened the door to outside. After saying my goodbye’s to Amata, I walked outside the vault.
And that’s where my story ends. I write this in a hotel in a town called Megaton. The escape happened yesterday, and I’m told my father went to Galaxy News Radio, which for some reason is having transmission difficulties recently. I have a bad feeling about this, so I’m going to stay here and help a shopkeeper on that book of hers.

Thursday, 30 July 2009

Maybe some points of interest. Maybe not.

I'm more awake at night.  I'm also more talkative at night.  So why does the internet feel the need to shut down at this moment?  My wit is spewing out in all directions like a teenager's first puking session after a steady course of alcohol, and there's no-one to listen to my pearls.  It's like my sociablilty smells or something.  (If it's anything like my physical state of recent, I'm not far off.)
So as I'm sitting in a state of wanting to talk to people who aren't there (A well documented phenomena actually) it hits me.  I should play Fallout!
5 minutes in and it crashes.
"Fair enough, it's not known for being the most stable game" I think, as I boot up another session, remembering to save regularly.
10 minutes later, it crashes.
On next boot up, it does the same when I get to the same area.  (Canterbury Commons.)

And so ends the story of how I ended up closing the game, remembering not to blame the Vault Dweller (Dizturbd ^_^), and typing the first thoughts into my head on here.  You're welcome.

Also on tonight's agenda, chatrooms.  Lately, it's been Gamernook, and Lycos, in an attempt to kill some time and talk to strangers about crap, since doing it on the street gets you weird looks.  Especially if you're pantless like I am during the majority of my PC time.
Why is it that when I was younger, and more socially retarded, I found it easier to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger?  Nowadays, I can barely talk to the other lines of text.
While we're on the topic of younger, why are summers so bad now?
I remember when they were great, and there was never a moment of boredom.  Now I'm lucky to find something to entertain myself with.
And this was before I started playing games all day long.
What the crap did I do all day?!

On a side note (i.e. bugger all to do with anything in the history of everything) I now have a purple mop!  Read: hair.  Though I do now want a purple mop.

Thursday, 23 July 2009

Thoughts from a thinker.

- Getting the 'Explorer' perk in Fallout 3 is the best thing I've ever done.

- For an apocolyptic wasteland, there sure are a lot of places I need to go to.

- Thanks to Fallout, my left hand goes to 'WASD' and 'V' by default.

- I need a larger MP3 player.  Squeezing 60GB of music onto 4GB of space leads to a lot getting cast away.

- It's also VERY boring to go through each album to see what's worthy.

- It's also very boring going through each album, correcting all tags.

- When I'm bored, I tend to get sociable.  A huge disadvantage, since my usual source of boredom is no-one to talk to.

- I've found that chat rooms scare me, but I just can't...stop...watching.

Friday, 17 July 2009

Boy, do I have some stories to tell you

Actually, i don't.  Otherwise I would have said something since umpteen years ago.
Today's excuse for silence: Monkey Island.

"But faithful internet blogger!" I hear you shriek."This is 2009.  The age of point and click is long dead."
"So's your face!" I cry, and I penetrate it with the closest sharp thing to hand. (Some sort of broadsword I'm hoping.)

Hopefully, you'd see this as less of a violation of my parole, and more of a way to try to explain that point and click adventure games are still going strong, just not getting the recognition they deserve. 

This summer has seen the revival of the Monkey Island series, 9 years after Escape From Monkey Island in 2000, and a remake of the original Secret of Monkey Island.  First off, we have Telltale's take on the Monkey Island series with Tales of Monkey Island.  Telltale like to release their adventure games in episodes, rather than one full game, with each episode being a fraction of the price of a retail game.  In my case, each episode was about £5, with the entire 5 episode series coming to about £22.   The episodic nature worked with Sam & Max, so I was eager to place my pre-order a month early, and spend the 6th July cooped up in my room, sleeping, ready to endlessly click the refresh button all of next day on Telltale's website. 
And that I did.
For 5 hours.  (Those real-life friends have a habit of dragging me outside when I'm busiest, otherwise it would have been double figures.)

During these 5 hours I took a trip to the forums.  Expecting to see a few fans like myself, hoping to relive some of the magic from our youth, I saw a massive amount of users ready to download and play the new Monkey Island game.  I'd never knew the genre still had this much life within it's fan-base.  Ironically, this 'life' caused the website to crash a lot and caused the forums to go down for maintenance. 

The wait was worth it.  Though LucasArts has little to do with the game they made famous, Ron Gilbert made a couple of trips to Telltale's studios to make sure they stuck to the old Monkey Island ways we fell in love with.  The first episode, in my eyes, was a hit and I loved every second of it.  The game took me 4 hours to complete, with the puzzles being challenging, but easy enough to spot the obvious solution with a little thought.  Hopefully the difficulty curve will increase as usual to make the next few games as awesome.
Dominic Armato continues his voice over to ToMI to voice Guybrush Threepwood, a fact which made me bring out my credit card ready to pre-order before I even realised what was going on.  He does, yet again, a brilliant job at capturing the charm and wit of Guybrush.

Next we have The Secret of Monkey Island: Special Edition.  A remake of the original game in 1990, with updated graphics and voice overs.  Once again, Dominic is there to take us through the Tri-Island area,hoping to be the next mighty pirate.  A clever feature of the game is the way you can press a button and it will digress to the original game, a-la pixels and crosshair.  This makes for an easy comparison between the games, and I find myself switching between each just to compare animations and scenery. 
The puzzles are the same as the original game, but now there's an added hint system.  On the PC version, press 'H', and you get a handy tip on screen.  This helps in some cases (as I found myself earlier) where I just couldn't figure out a solution to a puzzle, and didn't want to check a walkthrough for fear of spoiling a later puzzle. 

Away from the Monkey Island series, we also had Sam and Max season one hitting Xbox Live recently.  Though I've not played the Xbox version, I have played the PC version, and recommend the series to anyone who hasn't played either.  The humour of the game is on par with Sam and Max: Hit the Road.  That is to say, hilarious. 

All in all, I'm loving the recent revival of a genre that doesn't get nearly enough acclaim as it should.
You can stick with your Halos and your Calls of Duty.  I'm sticking with my three headed monkeys and funny haired pirates.

Sunday, 19 April 2009

The big room with the bright light is getting warmer

So yesterday I was persuaded to venture outside into public.  Into sunlight nonetheless.  The occasion?  Playing cards in the park. (I won.)
So now it's sunny again today, and I can't help but want to go out again.  As each sun-filled day passes, I can feel an ounce of geek leaving me.  Thankfully, I woke up to realise I now had all Dragonball episodes downloaded.  That's Dragonball, Dragonball Z, and Dragonball GT.  If uit wasn't for an assignment deadline in a week, I'd be watching it and pretending they never made a live-action movie.  I've not seen it yet, but I'm not getting my hopes up.  At the best, I'm hoping it'll spunk all over my childhood's face, instead of the violent anal penetration I'm expecting.  More on this when I get a new bank card delivered, thereby having access to my money again.  (I may have been a little drunk and lost it the other night.)

I just found a site called GamerNook, a social networking site for gamers.  So far, the only annoying part has been adding my games collection to my profile.  I've had to do this once before for a Facebook application, so I wasn't too enthusiastic about it.  I've missed out my N64, Megadrive, and PS2 collection, which I'll finish when I can be bothered.  Apparently it's meant to make it easier to find people to play online with, so if you make an account look for me.

Friday, 17 April 2009

My place really does suck

So I live in a little slice of heaven affectionately called 'The Moose'.  Reason?  Because it's the name of the place.  Duh.
Anyway, this house isn't well known for it's healthy drinking water.  One more than one occasion I've taken a glass, and had the water contained turned nearly opaque due to the 'things' in it.  The only way to get the water to an acceptable drinkable level, apart from moving, is to let the tap run for a few seconds prior to glass-filling.  Over Christmas holidays, a housemate left a bottle of water on the side, and returned 3 weeks later to a sight which can only be described as 'icky'  Mould balls had formed, and were bobbing up and down the bottle.  Sadly, he wouldn't drink it.  Even for science.

Why do I bring this up?

I was searching through a cupboard in my room back at home (The home with the people who gave birth to me) and found a bag I'd used for camping.  "Awesome" I said, as no-one was awake to tell me to stop talking to myself.  I need a tent for a week in June, so looked inside to see if I had one.  I realy can't remember what was in there.  The last time it was opened was about two years ago.  On the top of the bag, a bottle of water.  It had been in there for two years, and it was clear.  If I hadn't have just taken it out of this bag, I would consider drinking it.  (Again, for science) 

So a bottle of Moose water is left for two weeks, and grows mould.
A bottle of Liverpool water is left for two years in a bag in a small cupboard in a warm room, and it's fine.

Is my water really that bad?

Sunday, 5 April 2009

Here he goes again

It's bad when you get writer's block.  It's worse to get it when you're not a writer, barely update a half decent blog, and should really have a lot more to talk about.  This is one of those 'worse' moments.  But, I'm bored and after reading some other websites, I'm inspired.  Either that or 'creeped-out'.  Note to self: Cleanse browser history.  With fire.

I've not got a topic handy, since when I go to ask people for something to talk about they always answer with the same thing:
"Where are your pants?  How the hell did you get in here?  I'm calling the police!"

Really, if you can't ask random strangers for advice in the comfort of their own home, our society is doomed. 

While I'm on the topic of destryoing society,  the internet has a new corner to annoy the rest of mankind.
My first experience was a stranger asking 'Cyber?'  Instant dislike alert.
Give it a go.  You may enjoy it, you may end up shutting off your PC in the hopes of never contacting another human being ever.

Funnily enough, this is what /b/ makes me feel like anyway.

Thursday, 19 February 2009

Thoughts from the morning

- I should do this more often. It's like updating my Facebook, but I don't feel like a social whore by updating it every 2 minutes to tell people I just farted.

- I just farted.

- I'm regretting turning on that fan and pointing it in my general direction.

- I can't decide whether I want to spend £10+ on the GTAIV expansion. Does anyone want to give me the money for it?

- Why not? You got a problem with giving me money for nothing, arsehole?

- I should really play Sam & Max Hit The road again. It was such a great game, and I have the CD next to me, but it takes up both screens, and I cba to figure out how to change it to windowed mode, or if that's even possible.

- As of tonight, I've (nearly) completed two assignments. Suck it, time!

- I should really iron out the kinks in my code before declaring it as finished. Memory leaks are Satan spawn. But replacing variables to fit with a style guide is tedious as hell.

- I'd probably get more marks and have a better chance of passing the year if i didn't do this sort of thing at 6am, or stay on StumbleUpon until stupid O' clock.

- I should design a clock with stupid O' clock on it.

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

How to survive the zombie apocolype.

We all know it's going to happen. But will you survive? According to totally legit leading sources, which may or may not be movies and video games, no. Apparently only 1% of the human race know what to do in this situation. (According to the internet and how many blog posts are similar to this, it's more like 40%. Good going, internet!) After a good few hours on Left 4 Dead, and a childhood growing up with Resident Evil (sadly, including the films), I'm more than clued up on the facts. Gather round children, it's storytime.

Warriors > Everything.

People like swords. Why? Because you get to hit shit. In a zombie apocolypse, the same rule applies. After seeing your family, friends, or maybe even your favourite goldfish succumb to the wrath of the zombie hordes, it's a lot more satisfying to give the thing a wallop around the head than to stand a few feet away, aim, fire, and probably miss. Melee means no ammo. Melle means no jamming. Melee means punching a zombie in the face. For bonus points, try and get a still breathing friend to take a picture of said act. You can share it with your diminished friends list of Facebook once this has all blown over. If you think this may significantly lower your chances of survival then you may want an ordinary baseball bat or something sharp.


If you see something which may be useful, take it. All those years of adventure games will come in handy. You'll feel like you really were on your way to Monkey Island with all this stuff tucked away in your pants, waiting for the right opportunity to use it. Note: What you take is up to you. This guide cannot be held responsible for you chopping off your love-meat because you had the bright idea to put a knife next to your gonads for safe-keeping.
Go to B&Q or somewhere similar, and ransack the place. You'll be glad you took that lawnmower when you see the zombies gathering around the shop. Plus, that is another chance for an awesome photo.

Screw the carbon footprint.

For some reason, a few people tend to leave their cars along the side of the road when they realise the only bridge out of town has been blocked off. Be the smart one. If it still runs, drive it. You may not be heading out of town due to the aformentioned blockade, but it'll sure give you a ton of weight to mow down the undead with. If you're not old enough to drive, who cares. It's not like the law enforcement left will be bothered about the underage kid driving when there's a creature trying to chew his ear off. On the off chance there is, beat him and pretend you thought he was a zombie.
Also learn how to tap petrol from another car. Most petrol stations will be dried out, but there may still be some juice left in that scrapheap the mother and daughter died in. Don't worry about respect for the dead. They're not using it.

Home sweet hovel.

Stay away from cities. It may seem obvious, but there are a lot of people who'll stay to die where they were born. if you've read this far, hopefully you aren't one of them. Find a way out of town and to a quiet area. Contradictory, many others may have already thought of this, and are seeking refuge in the countryside. In this case, find a quiet part of town, left the undead army follow them, then forget everything I just said and take shelter here. If you want to make it more than a day, you'll need a place to sleep. Find a large building, stay a few floors up, and destroy the stairs. I'm certain you're not in a hurry to leave, so stock up beforehand. If there's someone in your group you think can be 'let go' if you still need food, let him/her runs down to the nearest shop, and devise a system of pulleys, where the food can be placed in a basket and brought up. Don't worry about the friend getting back up. No-one really liked them anyway, right? Watching them scream and jump, attracting 'friendly visitors', might give you something to laugh at in this bland wasteland. Which brings me to my next point:


Ok, the section title was nothing special, but it fitted with the outing sentence of the previous paragraph. Go English language! With the rest of the world on standby, the internet might be a little boring. 4Chan might be a little repetative, with the zombies incapable of speech or human emotion spouting rubbish incomprehensable to the rest of society. Actually, nothing's really changed on that front. Sure, there may be a few small blogs cropping up telling people of their plights and where the nearest safehouse is, but between saving friends and looking at porn, I doubt many will have enough time to update regularly. Your best bet is to get out a good ol' board game, or if electricity isn't an issue, find a good game to play. Constantly. Though I'd stay away from FPS's. Many of them include some sort of zombie, and you really shouldn't bring your work home with you.


Think of four people. The first four that crop into your head. Done? Good, because they should be the four you travel with. Hopefully you weren't thinking of supermodels, or that girl on the internet who you're pretty sure is a girl, and who really likes that picture of you from 4 years ago, before you got all those spots or got a tattoo on your face. Hopefully you thought of people you can trust, people who are good with weapons, and people you can tolerate for months on end. Stay small, since it's easier to travel. That car you took earlier would get pretty cramped with any more people following you. Stick with these people, and make no attempt to go searching for that partner or mother. Pretend they're dead, and follow the above rules. The second you leave to find your long lost love, you'll get bitten. Then you'll spend your last few minutes questioning whether or not she was really worth it, which kind of brings a downer to the whole relationship.

Hopefully this guide should be nothing you're unfamiliar with. If that's the case, I'll see you when we've found a way to make them our slaves. Hopefully, I'll have all those photos of zombie punching and videos of screaming friends uploaded by then.

Tuesday, 6 January 2009

This happens too often

I'm usually awake at 6am again, so I may as well have a place for all those strange thoughts to go again.  Just a sampler over the past few days:

- I joined Netlog for some strange reason.  Deleted my account about a year ago, but out of sheer boredom I crawled back.  Under the heading 'What do you want from netlog' or something similar, it had radio buttons with 'Friends', 'Relationships', or 'Networking'.  Now networking had two other sub-options, one of which I can't remember.  But the other one was called 'Job Search'.  Who the hell is searching for a job on freaking Netlog?!  Sign up (or just look around) to see what I mean. 

- Hats are awesome.  You disagree, and we have a problem.

- My 'friends' are idiots.  Not my actual friends.  Those people you add on Facebook because you have the same therapist or found out that they, too, share a fondness for bananas.  Every other word is 'lol', which is reason enough to hate them, and their comments are unreadable and uninteresting.  Maybe I should start deleting people.

- Finnish metal + Sub woofer in your chair + Lots of bass = Cheap massage chair!