Quotable Quote

A while back I was doing some coding at work, and found out that the solution for a particular problem was really stupid. Like deleting all the files and copying them back into the project kind of stupid. It fixed the problem, but only after I'd tried everything else, wasting about a day and a half of work by trying to fix something retarded with elegant code. The good news is that it helped me come up with this axiom of programming:

If a problem is exceedingly clever, then an equally clever solution is often required. But when the problem is dumb, then the solution must be equally dumb.

I call it the Dumb Rule of Programming.

-s

My Oblivion Mod

...doesn't exist yet.

But it's in the works, and really, that's what matters.

Why am I making a mod? Because I'd like to be a game designer someday, preferrably before I turn 27, so it's high time I got off my tookus (sp?) and do something. I've had long enough to recover from NaNoWriMo and it's time to start a new project.

So what's the mod, then? You might ask. Well, I might tell you, it's kind of complicated, so allow me to start from the beginning.

I played Oblivion for about 85 hours - I finished the game, completed every side quest (except collecting shadowbanish wine - I've never collected bugs in Zelda either), bought every house, finished the game the right way and the stab Dagon until he melts ending, I even looked up how to min/max stats and magic items so that if I played through again, I wouldn't have to keep turning the difficulty down every few hours.

When it was done, I was very, very sad. It was the same separation syndrome that anyone gets when they finish a really good game, but this one hit a little harder. I was still wandering around in the world. I still had stats to max out, but I had no reason to do so.

I had literally solved every problem in the world.

IN THE WORLD.


I was head of the Fighter's guild, and told them to do a balance between recruiting and making money. That seemed like a good way to keep the giant rat population down indefinitely.

I was head of the Assassin's guild, so I could just neglect my duties and the death rate of the realm would plummet.

I was head of the Mages' guild, and had Mannimarco's soul trapped in a soul stone. And since I don't age, he was pretty much going to be trapped forever.

So I watched the clouds go by for awhile, then installed a mod that added new cloud textures and watched those for a bit.

I installed a couple other mods, but both of them did strange things to my character. (Like deleting all of my possessions one by one.)

I bought all of the currently available Bethesda mods, and realized that although they were lovely, they were extraordinarily light on the content front. Sure I had gotten the Razor (and mad cow disease), and seen some very cool level design, graphics, and AI interactions. But it didn't actually make the game much better. It had hardly any of the character-character interaction that had made me play every single damn quest. I simply didn't want or need another sword.

So I took one of the common gripes about the game: there is no romance, and intend to change that.

Now, I'm a big softy. So my first idea was this whole big thing about actually getting some girl to fall in love with your character (I'll bother with the reversals later.) It was this whole big thing that, while cool, is probably too much work for me to do right now.

Instead, I'm going to do something far less extravagant, and far less complicated. I'm going to have some Nord chick that likes strong guys, and if you can prove how very very strong you are, she'll marry you.

No, I don't know exactly what marriage will mean in the game yet. For now you'll just be engaged, and she'll travel around with you or sit at home. I think it's important that she level along with you, so that you don't consider her a burden after a few quests.

And for right now, I'll just be working on the wooing angle. Everyone loves to woo, am I right?

So that's the plan. More later, but there'll be at least a bit related to the arena, the fighter's guild, a side quest or two, and a part of it will probably involve killing that semi-invisible thing in the North whose quest seems to have been canceled.

-s

And Thou Shalt Be Repaid 3-Ply

I have discovered something simply marvelous: 3-Ply Kleenex.

I'm sure that you're thinking "You're kidding, right? I use 2-ply, what difference can an extra ply make?

My friends, this third ply makes every difference. It is the stuff of dreams. It's a little like blowing your nose in a bedsheet. One of those really nice 17 hundred thousand thread count bedsheets.

Now, I am not an uncongested individual. In fact, I would refer to my olfactory expression as unbounded, given a suitably temperate environment. I have destroyed paper towels with a single vicious blow to their supple centers.

But this third ply, it rebukes even my most vehement expressions. It is the stuff from which legends are born.

A guy I work with borrowed one to take home to his fiancee, I presume to end his farce of a relationship, as she had never indulged him with such a wealth of ply.

But even more important than the what is the How. How, you must be asking yourself, how did I get this box of miracle material?

Did I go to some high-end supermarket, or order direct from the manufacturer? ("And add an extra ply to it," I might have said. "We already supply a second ply, sir," the attendant would respond, startled. "No no, my good man," I would reply, smiling knowingly, "I mean, of course, an extra extra ply," evoking naught but shocked silence followed by the telltale scribbling of genius on paper.)

No.

I gave my box of tissues to some dude I hardly know. Because he was sick. My crappy 2-ply stuff. He used all of them. This man was airplane sick.

This morning, I was startled to find myself repaid with more than double the cumulative layers I had originally given.

But it was more than just the count, let me assure you. It was this breathtaking triumvirate of assembled plies.

Another co-worker displayed, I believe, the most appropriate sentiment when, after requesting a tissue for himself, began ever so lightly... to cry.