Life’s been interesting, which is to say, it’s been up and down like a rollercoaster but never fails to beat the tedious drudgery that I’d experience without the chaos. My programming projects have been put on temporary hold lately as I’ve been focusing on World of Warcraft and my electronics project, suffering the relentless and thoroughly unwelcome, oppressive heat of the summer and other associated annoyances that come with this most loathesome of seasons, and both pondering and happily resolving a few confusions and points of contention regarding relationship-related matters. I don’t usually mention much related to my love-life on this blog for a number of reasons, but let me assure those of you who care about my mental stability that things could not be better right now on that front.

Oh, and I walked face-first into a street sign that was far too low yesterday, because the sun was in my eyes and making it hard to see where the hell I was going. Normally I wouldn’t admit this at all, but I know for a fact that people are going to ask what’s with the cuts and bruises, and I’m not nearly manly enough to be able to lie and say it was the result of a bar-fight, and you should have seen the other guy.

In conclusion: Life rocks, and my face is pretty much okay. That is all.

It’s not just this, though, but any occurrence of this inexplicably dull sport which seems to evoke the most primive and violent natures from these already low-brow plebians. Going anywhere near a public place before, during, or after any kind of match which seems to hold some ridiculous significance to these simians is practically a death sentence, due to their unfortunate nature to riot furiously and violently if “their” team loses the game, a haze of bloodlust hanging over them like a cloud. Similarly, if the team they “support” — and I use that word in the loosest manner possible — wins a game, they seem equally overcome with primal fury, destroying and fighting everything in their path as their uncontrollable wrath leaves broken windows and empty beer cans in its wake. This, perhaps, is the most bizarre aspect of the whole experience, as if every fan is simply a ticking time-bomb, waiting for the moment to explode in bestial anger regardless of the game’s outcome!

I can’t even begin to understand why sports of most kinds tend to bring out the worst, most primal and aggressive natures of ordinarily air-brained yet harmless peons — though it mostly seems to focus around the more physical of sports, ones that involve a lot of running, since I’ve rarely heard of a chess riot, or police being called in to deal with enraged snooker fans.

Truth be told, though, that’d be quite hilarious to observe.

(Image courtesy of my blogging compadre, Gorse.)

That’s what got me thinking about gaming as a whole, and the bizarre system of effort and reward that we as gamers seem to impose upon ourselves. Of course achievements in games like World of Warcraft or on systems such as the Xbox 360 and Steam — or a rose by any other name, such as “trophies” on the PlayStation 3 — are the perfect example of this mentality in action, I feel it’s only a relatively new coat of paint on the surface of something much older. Remember when you were a kid hanging out in the video-game arcades of the 80′s and 90′s, marvelling at the high-score tables populated and dominated by those elite few with the seemingly unattainable skills needed to occupy such a throne? Or as a more domestic example, something every gamer should be familiar with: The urge to beat the level, defeat the boss, to press onward and explore new territory, or simply to beat a score and achieve some measure of satisfaction from the knowledge that your skill and dedication could be quantified by digits glowing on a phosphor screen.

This, I feel, is something endemic and intrinsic to the gamer mindset, and yet the intangible appeal fails to make any logical sense in my mind. We push ourselves to incredible lengths for the sake of achievement and improvement in an artificial system which exists solely for the sake of providing challenge where there would otherwise be none. An extreme case of this would be the Korean gamer who quite literally killed himself by playing too much StarCraft; more common examples can be seen all around us. Who out there wearing the moniker of “gamer” can honestly say they haven’t spent a weekend or more shut away in a darkened room, hunched over a screen, thoroughly absorbed in one of these faux-simulacra?

Is it simply human nature to constantly push ourselves further, so desperate for self-improvement and so eager for accolade that we are inherently drawn to such a medium? The overwhelming popularity of gaming as a whole on a worldwide scale would seem to imply a certain truth in this logic, though I can’t help but feel as though something is missing. Can it really be that simple? In the end, are we still just a bunch of apes who’ll push a button all day long if it means we’ll get a bunch of bananas and a pat on the head?

No philosophical discussion is complete without stick-figure diagrams.

Yesterday, I had a discussion on theology/philosophy with a couple of Mormon missionaries, largely concerning the issue of omnipotence vs. the fallacy of free will. I don’t think they were really expecting me to whip out the whiteboard and dry-erase markers, but it seemed to go over pretty well. I was actually surprised by the outcome — they stumbled a little at first, clearly not expecting the question, but managed to formulate a fairly adequate response. The gist of the conversation ended with the conclusion that even though God knows what choice I’m going to make (the little stick-man in the box with the branching paths represents me), that doesn’t influence or affect the fact that I still had the choice in the first place.

Now, I could have gone more philsophical and argued that knowledge of the future does in fact invalidate any possible notion of free will, and even without the presence of some heavenly overlord, this concept troubles me from time to time purely from the perspective of science (we are, after all, composed of matter which acts in predictable and logical ways). But I’ll give them credit for trying, especially as I’m sure neither of them expected to have such a thing thrust upon them without warning.

Maybe next time.

The rest of the conversation pretty much went as could be expected, and I had time a-plenty to clarify a few things I’ve been hazy on. I’m not about to be “converted” or choose a religion any time soon, but I like to think I keep an open mind, and this is one angle I simply haven’t given much attention to in the past. I know plenty enough about Catholicism, I’ve read into Taoism and Buddhism, but those Mormons always just seem so damn happy, and I want to know what their secret is. And then I’ll ask one of those monks in orange robes who always hang out on streets and seem to constantly act like they just won the lottery last week and things could not be better.

Somewhere along the line, I just decided that I was tired of life being predictable, dull, and largely falling into the trap of same shit, different day. There’s something fundamentally satisfying about just breaking out of that routine and walking down a path you’d never normally take, just to see where it leads you.

Mostly, I wish this was possible because then I’d have this pop up inside a large, angry, hazard-line box.

Oh, c’mon. You know that’d be awesome.

Still not seeing it? Look again.

Now tell me I’m crazy.

kresh’s back or worn turtle shield — Either or, really. They’re both pretty good, so I’d say, whichever drops. Kresh’s Back has a small amount of Defense Rating while the Worn Turtle Scale Shield has extra armour, but given that both are ilvl 20 blues, the difference at that point is honestly negligable. Mostly, it comes down to which you think looks cooler. I prefer Kresh’s Back, myself.

dodongo dislikes smoke — Yes he does. Please stop searching for this, I swear it’s possibly the most popular search term this blog receives.

what do you do when it says dodongo dislikes smoke — oh god

scourgelord tyrannus without wiping — This is not a difficult boss, just use your head. Don’t attack or heal when you’ve got Overlord’s Brand, because attacking with the brand will hurt the tank (much like Mirrored Soul) and healing while you’ve got the brand will heal Tyrannus. It only lasts a few seconds, so just take your hands off the keyboard and wait for it to go away. Also, avoid the aerial attacks if possible, and if you get targetted by the dragon, run like a motherfucker. With all that in mind, you’ll do fine.

can overlords brand be dispelled — No. Stop asking.

shall i give you dis pear? — I certainly wouldn’t say no. So delicious.

assassin’s creed 2 was unfulfilling — That’s not even a question, that’s an opinion. Why on earth are you searching for this?

what is the book green man blue cat about? — It’s not actually a real book. It’s a joke.

anal sex — Not right now, thanks.

tar content djarum black — 10mg.

ffxi which xp ring to use? — Not the Chariot Band. Either of the other two are fine, but the Chariot Band doesn’t give you as much bang for your buck. (Edit: Click here!)

can you own a chariot band and emperor ring at the same time — No.

I live in a small apartment building, the kind where it looks like a regular house on the outside, but each of the three floors is a separate apartment with a common stairwell and front door. Mine’s the one at the top, and when I moved in here, the building was all mine, so to speak — nobody else lived in the other two, and life was good. Now begins the mystery, however, of whether or not someone has moved into one of the other apartments.

Evidence for started with a repairman coming to the house to fix the intercom for flat 1, mysterious sounds which may or may not have originated in the stairwell and could easily have been from the neighboring house (which I know is populated), and a partial boot-print on a couple of letters that were on the floor by the front door (which could just as easily have been caused by the postman, the cleaners, or any other maintenance staff). Evidence against is mostly blind hope — as I like the idea of having the building to myself — and a stack of letters to “the occupier” of flats 1 and 2 from things like the city council and the TV license folks, which have been uncollected for quite some time. I also haven’t noticed any letters addressed directly to anyone but myself or to a generic “the occupier”, though they could have simply been collected if the neighbors are more dilligent than I.

It’s all quite mysterious, and perhaps even vaguely eerie. Am I alone in this building, or are others lurking about, unseen, unknown, but living mere feet away from my front door? One thing’s for sure: If I do have neighbors, they’re pretty damn quiet.

I look worse than I feel, but that’s not saying much, I look pretty dreadful. Food didn’t stay down, but that’s okay because it was terrible anyway. Started smoking again, missed my sweet, sweet cancer-sticks. Reality is about as interesting as it can be, which is to say, not at all. Been having extremely vivid and more-bizarre-than-usual dreams lately, which I’m sure is a sign of something, but I’m not sure what. Google’s latest foray into mimicry vexes me only mildly. A brief addiction to Pepsi Max has been quashed by apathy. I don’t miss people, per se, but there are some folks who I feel like I should talk to more often. I’m so used to lies, that sometimes I forget how to tell the truth. I think everything would be better if I could just learn to chill out and not be angry at things. I had one other thing to say, but deleted it because it sounded stupid. I think the problem with the world is that I don’t feel like I belong here. On a brighter note, my debt’s going down pretty steadily, albeit slowly. End of line.