Sunday Spotlight: IKEA

My wife and I paid our second visit to IKEA yesterday, the fabled Swedish furniture store. Perhaps you've seen it from the highway.

 Assuming your highway is in Singapore, where this photo from Wikipedia was apparently taken.

The problem with our first visit to IKEA a few months ago was that we really didn't know what we were in for. I thought we could walk in, pick out a shelf, and do some window shopping along the way. I was not expecting to go apartment hunting. We walked through a labyrinth of living rooms, dining rooms, bathrooms, each furnished with a consistent theme that prompted us to start categorizing these mock living spaces as, "wish we could have that," "wish we had a friend who had that," and, "meh." By the time we reached the end of the showroom floor, I was worn out.

Then there was an entire floor of rugs, lampshades, and picture frames that we hadn't counted on.

Followed by the gigantic warehouse where we actually picked up the box containing the assemble-it-yourself shelf that we had picked out a few hours before.

Followed by a checkout line comparable to the queue for a Star Wars premiere.

Followed by a small food court and a mini-mart with assemble-it-yourself Swedish food.

Followed by the trip across the bustling parking lot back to the car, and the realization that the do-it-your-shelf may or may not fit into the back of the car.

I suppose the huge food court at the entrance should have been a clue that you don't simply "go shopping" at IKEA. You're there for an afternoon, whether you're buying a potholder or a twelve-piece dinette set.

This time, we came prepared. We started our adventure by sitting down to a glorious meal of Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, veggie wraps, and Mountain Dew. (The food was quite good.) We had a list, and we stuck to it: lollygagging was kept to a minimum by moving through the store with purpose, rather than the wonderment and promise of 50¢ hot dogs that characterized our first visit. We abandoned our previous mindset of, "find what's cheap, and then see if we like it," replacing it with, "find what we like, and then consider if it fits into the budget." Overall, our second experience was much more in line with what Jonathan Coulton sang about.

Now we're well on our way to making a home, as opposed to living in a place created by the haphazard mingling of trappings from our previous lives apart. Of course, that means I need to vacuum the carpet before we move everything into place. But that's a small price to pay for having somewhere that we can truly call ours.

Sunday Spotlight: Wreck-It Ralph

As a gamer, it's my duty to weigh in on Disney's Wreck-It Ralph, which promised (at least, from the trailer) to be the rare sort of video game-inspired movie that not only uses its source material well, but uses it with reverence.



Everything you need to know about the story is there in the trailer; the question is, how is the movie?

It's very good. As a gamer, I'm pleased. Wreck-It Ralph left me optimistic for the future of video game movies. But it also left me wanting more.

Wreck-It Ralph is, first and foremost, a family movie. It's not really a movie for gamers, any more than Toy Story is a movie for toy collectors. There are more than enough scenes, cameos, parodies, and references to warm the pixelated hearts of retro and modern gamers alike, but at its core, Wreck-It Ralph is a movie about a big guy and a little girl who just want to be treated as equals. The fact that they're video game characters opens up some fun possibilities for how their story unfolds.

As a film, I appreciate how Wreck-It Ralph continually takes the story in unexpected directions, especially when it's so obvious what's supposed to happen next. Characters are fun, memorable, and have a good amount of depth to them (yes, even the 2-D ones, har har har). As a film set inside a video game (really, a game arcade), I'm relieved to see that the people involved with Wreck-It Ralph have actually played a video game before. From the music to the backgrounds to the character animations, everything feels right.

Where the movie leaves me wanting more is the large portion of time spent inside one particular game, which could have instead been spent hopping around to so many more video games. Granted, the movie does a great job of making the most of that location, but the film's own success up to that point is its greatest downfall: It's so rare to see video games treated with such genuine respect on film that I wanted the creators to spend more time exploring all the different games in the arcade, rather than focusing on the one place where it made most sense for the characters to be. The story, which is a very good story, got in the way of the even better presentation of various video games and video game genres by people who knew what they were talking about.

The movie's funny, too, and I have no doubt the writers could have made Wreck-It Ralph a full-on video game comedy instead (which, honestly, is what I was really hoping for). Keeping in mind that Wreck-It Ralph is first and foremost a family movie, however, keeps me from dwelling on what could have been. Because, once again, it's still a very good movie. I could do without the obligatory potty humor, though; all those jokes about Hero's Duty are making me rethink the way I phrased my introductory sentence for this post.

Nevertheless, Wreck-It Ralph—like the latest batch of Marvel movies, which have done the same for comics—reassures me that it's not impossible to make a video game-inspired movie that's more than a little above average, if not downright great.

Oh, and as a side note, Metroid: Other M could've had a Samus like Sgt. Calhoun: tough, assertive, focused, driven, and with the most tragic backstory ever, but still a caring woman under that butt-kicking exterior, and still sexy without endless fanservice.

We could've had this Samus...

...but instead we got this one:

 

Just sayin'.

Sunday Spotlight: What Could Possibly Be Taking So Long!?

In what is starting to look like an annual tradition, I've once again put together a video to respond to the most popular question on my YouTube channel: "Where's the next video!?"

Even if you're not a Mega Man fan, this may prove to be entertaining.



True to form, this post comes to you more than a month after it was immediately relevant. I blame reason #5.

Sunday Spotlight: The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind: The Only Game of the Year Edition

At last, my Backloggery can stop crying for a while. That only took ten months.

Sunday Spotlight: Guest Posting for Exfanding Your Horizons

As you may have noticed--assuming our content and layout haven't changed dramatically between when I'm writing this and when you're reading this--we've got a "Submit a Guest Post" link at the top of the blog, alongside some other neat stuff that we recommend you at least skim through. Little did I realize how much trouble such a simple link would cause.

If you're been following us long enough, or if you've been digging through the archives, you're almost certainly aware that we get excited about occasional guest posts, which have traditionally been written by close friends, family members, superfans, and coworkers. We like guest posts because they give us fresh perspectives, greater reader participation, and a day off when we don't feel much like writing. When we started having trouble meeting our regular, self-imposed posting deadlines, I began to publicize the fact that we do accept unsolicited guest posts, if anybody would like to participate and help us out.

Guess who responded? Two freelancers, within minutes of each other.

Now, we've got no problem with freelance writers. We're freelance writers, or at least we have been at one time or another. But we wanted fans, not freelancers. Our guest posting guidelines, as they were originally written, only conveyed the letter of the law, not the spirit; it simply hadn't occurred to me that anyone outside of our readership would care about posting with us.

Yet there it was, an e-mail request from a complete stranger with a beautiful prewritten post that followed our directions to a T, plus a hyperlink to some discount furniture website. I was not comfortable with posting this, but there was nothing in our directions that forbade it, and the freelancer was an honest-to-goodness person who responded tactfully and eloquently to my requests to establish credibility as a legitimate freelancer and not some spammer.

Revisions were made to the guidelines. Three more freelancers responded. Freelancers who, from the sound of it, didn't look too closely at the updated guidelines. Perhaps I was being too subtle. Also, looking back on it, my annoyance with how this guest posting plan was persistently backfiring was clearly visible in my writing. Another update.

Now, our guidelines look like this, which more accurately conveys exactly what we do and don't want out of a guest post. Assuming we haven't updated them again, in which case I have no idea what I'm linking to.

Sunday Spotlight: Netflix Recommendations

With nothing particular in mind to spotlight this Sunday, I'd like to share a few quick recommendations of things my wife and I have recently watched on Netflix:

Mystic Pizza (1988)

This seemingly predictable story of three girls working at a Connecticut pizza joint ended up being a pleasantly unconventional, comedic, and heartwarming tale of love and friendship. And pizza. I realize that's about the most generic description of a movie anybody could possibly write (seriously, "heartwarming tale of love and friendship"?), but it's a cut above the average...whatever category of movie this is...because the characters are believably human. It took a little while for me to get invested in it, but we ended up giving it a 4/5, though I could have been persuaded to settle on a 3/5 instead.

What Women Want (2011)

This Chinese remake of the 2000 Mel Gibson/Helen Hunt film by the same name is an almost verbatim retelling of the original movie (as I remember it, anyhow), but there's more than enough unique flavor brought to the table by the cultural and casting differences to make this not only a worthy remake, but an enjoyable movie in its own right. There's a fun chemistry between the two leads, and the supporting characters are amusingly quirky, but triple-threat actor Andy Lau really sold me on the film--whether dancing, singing karaoke, or emoting dynamically, his sheer force of talent and personality got me to like him not just as his character, but as an actor--I'd easily watch another of his films simply because he's in it, and that's not something I can say about more than a dozen or so actors. We also gave this one a 4/5.

Cosi (1996)

Organizing the patients of a mental institution to put on an opera by Mozart sounds like something with equal potential to be touching, hilarious, or incredibly uncomfortable, depending on how it's handled. Fortunately, this Australian film does a good job of balancing the first two and somewhat minimizing the third, although it takes a while for the momentum to get going and the humor to fully develop. I was inclined to give this a 3/5, but everything builds up to a riotous conclusion, complete with what might be the most wonderful post-credits tag we've ever seen in a movie...which is what ultimately swayed us to also give this one a 4/5.

I picked this one out after seeing Colin Hay in concert and being curious about his film and television appearances, but it was an added bonus to see the actor who played Faramir in Lord of the Rings alongside him as a fellow patient of the mental institution (which, of course, we didn't realize until after the fact).

Sunday Spotlight: Jonathan Coulton

If you recall my PAX East 2010 Recap, you know that, at least in one point in my life, geek musician Jonathan Coulton was a name to be spoken with disgust. Despite an agreeable musical style and clever lyrics about mad scientists and Swedish furniture stores, I found too many of his fun-loving songs to have undertones a little too dark or depressing for my tastes...but more importantly, his music had been completely ruined for me by venomous hecklers who, in my mind, were indicative of who Jonathan Coulton was and what kind of fans he attracted.

In other words, I wanted to have nothing to do with him or his music. Except "Mr. Fancy Pants." That song was awesome.

I owe much of my current tastes in music to what Pandora has introduced to me, and once again, I have Pandora to blame (or thank; I'm not sure yet) for reintroducing me to Coulton's music in a way that neither made me angry nor caused me to look down on him as a person because of the way I had been introduced. A few of his songs came up on my playlist here and there, and Pandora's vast knowledge of the kinds of songs I do and don't like were supremely helpful in picking out all the tunes in his repertoire that are up my alley. Not the zombie song; not anything that's fun on the surface but makes you feel bad about the human condition if you think about it too hard--all the songs that made me laugh, smile, and want to sing along the way Paul and Storm did at their part of the PAX East concert.

In other words, I gradually found myself liking Jonathan Coulton. Whoa. I still wouldn't call myself a fan, but I like enough of his songs now to not be an anti-fan. So there's that.

For your entertainment, here's a sampling of his music if you're unfamiliar with it (or just want to listen to it again):

Sunday Spotlight: Gurren Lagann

I've seen a number of anime series that build and build toward a satisfying climax, only to go totally weird in the last two episodes and ruin everything. I've seen shows that hold my attention for a while before steadily becoming less interesting as time goes on. Gurren Lagann introduced to me a new category of anime that falls short somewhere: shows that are totally rad except for a string of episodes in the middle that make you very, very angry.

Gurren Lagann is the first anime series I've seen that plays out like an ongoing D&D campaign: characters of humble origin are driven together by chance and circumstance; they embark on a grand adventure against increasingly impossible odds, becoming stronger and more heroic along the way; and no matter whether they achieve victory or taste bitter defeat, the story continues and new adventures arise as a direct result of what the heroes have been through. It's almost like four different series starring most of the same characters, fit neatly into the span of 27 episodes.

You've got Kamina, the irrepressibly and even foolishly gung-ho leader of the group. There's Simon, the cowardly digger who unearths the Gunmen (note the intentional pun on Gundam) called Lagann that sets their adventure into motion. You meet Yoko, the sharpshooter with a heart so warm that she barely needs any clothing to keep out the cold (that clothing restricts her movement is the completely reasonable rationalization given for her skimpy attire).

Along the way, the group meets up with a host of other characters, who range from a fabulous technology wizard, to a quartet of black-clad siblings, to a crewman whose only function is to excitedly press buttons, to a heroically comedic pig mole. They pick up team members from a sheltered, impoverished village just as easily as from the enemy palace. The team is even able to capture enemy Gunmen, changing their situation from being oppressed humans living underground to being powerful humans who roam freely across Earth's surface in their giant mechs.

Gurren Lagann is just as much a show about the characters as it is a show about big robots smashing up other big robots. At times it's a tongue-in-cheek parody, and at other times it's a serious and heartfelt tale of these characters fighting against fate, but more than anything else it's just plain fun. Gonzo action sequences, creative character designs, larger-than-life friends and foes, and smile-inducing dialogue make for a show that is just plain entertaining. The fact the characters are real characters who grow and change through their experiences, and whose actions directly impact the direction of the story, gives the show depth and a meaningful weight that's often absent in action-heavy anime.

That's why I got angry at Gurren Lagann: Following the conclusion of the major story arc that comprises more than half the series, we fast-forward to a point in the story that destroys both the fun and the meaning by having a few key characters shut off their brains to manufacture the conflict of the next story arc.

My wife and I have been watching the first season of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and we've been noticing an unfortunate trend: everything is going well until one character shuts off his or her brain, triggering an unnecessary conflict that gives the characters involved a reason to fight, get captured, and/or die pointlessly. Conflict is not flowing naturally from the circumstances--it's more like the writers want to have a big battle between some clone troopers and the local aliens, so they introduce a character supposedly on the side of the good guys whose only goal in life is to kill all the local aliens. The writers have him shut off his brain when people try to reason with him, and have everyone else shut off their brains when he orders them to stop talking and kill the local aliens. This results in the viewer hating the character driving the conflict and calling everyone else an idiot, effectively severing any real investment he or she had in the episode. At least, if this viewer is like me.

My anger toward Gurren Lagann--like my distaste for the last several episodes of The Clone Wars--is not directed so much at the conflicts themselves as it is toward the presentation of those conflicts. Don't allow the viewer to get so angry at the avoidable situations and boneheaded characters that they begin to hate the show itself--temper the viewer's temper with a reason to pity or sympathize with the boneheaded characters, or forgo the emotional investment in people and places that'll make it hurt more when bad things happen to them.

There's a string of five consecutive episodes in Gurren Lagann where several of the heroes are turned into villains, either in the eyes of the viewer or in the eyes of their comrades. After fifteen episodes of natural story progression and logical character interactions, bad things just happen. Characters go off the deep end in pursuit of their beliefs, people stop thinking rationally about the actions and motives of other characters, and the writers--in true Dungeon Master fashion--develop the romantic relationships between characters just enough to be used against them.

If you ask my wife, she'll tell you that everything terrible that happens here is because of how the characters' histories and personalities are shaping their interactions with others and affecting their ability to adapt to their new situation. I don't entirely disagree. The problem is that the writers fail to show the viewer any of the humanizing factors that put these characters' actions into context until too late in the story.

It's one gut punch after another as the characters you once cared for are villanized and their world falls apart...but there's no glimmer of hope that things will get better; no feel-good successes in the face of disaster; no flickers of remorse from the offending parties; nothing to suggest that the good guys who think they're doing the right thing really are doing the right thing. I simply stopped caring at one point--let their world fall apart, because I'd rather see it burn than suffer through another half-dozen episodes of unchecked angst and despair.

By the end of the series, most of the events that had made me angry had been softened with further explanation and perspective, but that doesn't change my drastically unfavorable reaction to the episodes where all I could see were manufactured conflicts and emotionally manipulative situations. Did Gurren Lagann redeem itself? Yes. Once they finally started acting like heroes again, the show quickly went from bearable to downright fun once more. The sour taste in my mouth persists only because of how much I like everything surrounding that string of infuriating and disheartening episodes--Clone Wars is disappointing when it resorts to artificial conflict, but the show so far hasn't done enough to invest me in the characters and raise my expectations of the writing to make it feel like all that much of a letdown.

Overall, Gurren Lagann is one of the most entertaining anime series I've seen in a while, with at least one or two of the best action sequences I've ever had the pleasure of watching in an anime. There are great, memorable characters and a dynamic story that becomes almost absurd in its scope, though delightfully so. Even with my complaints against the way the second major story arc was handled (and your feelings on the matter certainly may vary, as my wife can attest to), I respect the show for its ability to continually build on itself without overstaying its welcome or losing track of its roots. It's a good series that comes recommended to any anime fan, and first-timers with no prior exposure to anime are all but guaranteed to find something they like, whether it's comedy or plot continuity or big robots punching each other with drills.

As a side note, viewers in search of fan service a more complete Gurren Lagann experience should be advised that the English dub of Episode 6, the infamous hot springs episode, is considerably different from the original Japanese cut. It's a near-mandatory anime tradition to have an episode (frequently the sixth one, for some reason) take place at a hot spring, opening the door for scantily clad shenanigans in even the most serious and conservative series. Gurren Lagann is no exception, but the censors obscured some of the racier content with fog clouds, and excised the rest of it altogether, replacing it instead with a clever-but-obtrusive recap of the first five episodes.

As a result, the story feels somewhat disjointed, and most of the humor of the episode is lost, along with some worthwhile character development and even a little foreshadowing. The uncut and subtitled Japanese version is out there for free on the Internet if you poke around a bit, and there are plenty of synopses that go over the version differences if you'd prefer to pass on watching/rewatching the episode with its questionable content intact.

Anypigmole, that's Gurren Lagann for you.

[Images from gurrenlagann.wikia.com and Wookieepedia.]

Sunday Spotlight: Scurge: Hive

If you're familiar with Metroid Fusion, then you know how the story goes: Terrible alien parasite breaks out of containment at the science lab and takes over the whole facility. Tough female bounty hunter gets dragged into the conflict and has to set things straight, both for her own sake and for the sake of the galaxy. Over the course of her adventure, she'll collect different upgrades that allow her to interact with her environment in new ways, deal more damage to enemies, and grant her access to new areas of the facility, all the while guided by an intelligent computer.

That's the story. The story of Metroid Fusion. And the story of Scurge: Hive. Aside from the difference in perspective--Fusion is a sidescrolling platformer, and Scurge: Hive is a top-down platformer--the games are all but identical, save for the part where Scurge: Hive is repetitive almost to the point of boredom.

Now, Scurge: Hive isn't a bad game. The graphics are detailed, the character designs are interesting, the controls are responsive, the challenges are fair, the dialogue is well-written, the music is appropriately atmospheric, the sound effects are distinctive, the gameplay and story progression are well-paced, and the weapon mechanics are well-executed (utilizing a rapid switching system to select between a half-dozen weapons that affect enemies and your environment in different ways). There's very little that's actually wrong with the game, but there's also very little that's holding my attention some five hours into the game.

For one thing, there's no surprise in what's going to happen next, both in the story and in each new room you explore. Read a transmission saying this entire region has been overrun by parasites. Locate enough keycards (usually 3 or 6) to unlock the door to the next area. Read a transmission saying some ill-fated scientist has prepared a weapon or item that will help fight the bad guys. Complete a time challenge to collect said weapon or item, which will also open the way into more parts of the region. Find the six power nodes scattered across the region to activate the teleporter to the next area. Repeat.

For another thing, each room is essentially the same, consisting of [pick one or more:] tunnels, raised platforms, moving platforms, water, and hazardous swamplike ground, plus [pick one or more:] a platform to activate by charging a machine with your electrical weapon, a door to open by charging a machine with your energy weapon, a door to open with keycards, a platform to raise by holding down two switches, a tangled mass of plants that can be burned away to reveal a new exit, and a floating grapple sphere you can grab onto to fling yourself to the next platform (which, admittedly, is pretty fun). Throw in swarms of any of the dozen or so enemies in the game, and you've got pretty much every room in the game that isn't a save chamber, teleporter, or boss fight.

Granted, breaking down a platformer the way I just did diminishes the individual creativity of the level design in each room--greater games have been assembled with fewer elements; it's all about how things are arranged and the interplay of the challenges. What Scurge: Hive boils down to is "solve the same few puzzles in every room, while blasting random clusters of the same few enemies." This might not be so bad if the scenery weren't so similar throughout each area--assuming you can see much of the scenery at all.

Using Muramasa: The Demon Blade as an example, the freshness of repetitive games can be preserved in part by offering a variety of lush visuals. The graphics of Scurge: Hive, as I mentioned, are certainly detailed, but there are two factors that seriously detract from my appreciation of them: the monotony of one terrain type in each area, and the excessive use of ambient fog.

Metroid: Fusion takes place entirely on a space station with six distinctly themed habitation areas (such as a tropical jungle and a flame-seared wasteland), yet even within each area there are rooms and sections that employ notable variations on the main theme (going from scorched desert sands to red-hot molten metal in the pyroclastic area, for example). That alone keeps each region from stagnating, but there's the added bonus of exploring only parts of each area before you're called to another part of the space station entirely.

In Scurge: Hive, each major area has the same cargo boxes or rocky cliffs in every. single. room. and you're unable to proceed to the next major area until you've cleared out every. single. room. Yes, there are technically exceptions, but they're not prominent enough to counteract that oppressive feeling of deja vu--which makes figuring out where you're supposed to go next a bit of a chore at times.

If it were just a matter of reused scenery in every room, that'd be one thing. It's also that every. single. room. throughout entire sections of the game are covered in a dense fog that lightly obscures your view of the action. It's a nice atmospheric touch when used sparingly, Scurge: Hive takes it to an eyestrain-inducing extreme. The in-game map only serves to worsen the eyestrain--there's no zoom feature to examine areas more closely, so you are left squinting at the teensy red pixels that indicate a door or passageway to a room you haven't visited yet. If there is enough detail lovingly included in each room to set it apart from the next, it's lost beneath all the fog, and lost to the weary eyes aimed at the relatively small screen of the Game Boy Advance (I can't speak for the DS version). I haven't tried playing this on a Game Boy Player yet, but I suspect this might greatly improve the experience.

Another major factor that works against any feeling of novelty each room might attempt to exude: You are on a constant timer. The heroine, Jenosa Arma, is equipped with a protective suit that is constantly fighting a losing struggle against the omnipresent parasitic infection that has thrown these areas into chaos. There's a contamination meter at the top of the screen that increases by 1% every few seconds--even faster than that if you're standing on one of the aforementioned patches of swamplike ground--and your health begins to decay rapidly once you reach 100%. Finding a save point will restore your health and bring your infection level back down to 1%, but this mechanic changes the very nature game.

Without the constant threat of creeping doom, Scurge: Hive is an exploration-driven shoot-'em-up, sort of like a majorly sci-fi cousin of Crystalis (which I love). With the player being penalized for even standing around to think for a few seconds, the game becomes a mad rush to clear each room as quickly as possible, trading that joy of exploration for an increase in challenge and tension that keeps the player tethered to save points. Nothing's inherently wrong with extra challenge and tension, but the tradeoff here is not an entirely favorable one for a gamer with my preferences. I'd like to see an improved suit that slows the rate of infection even further, or an item that allows me to reduce my contamination percentage in the field.

So far--and I emphasize that I haven't finished the game yet--Scurge: Hive is a generally fun game that has only a few real problems...but the problem is, those problems are real. (What a useless sentence, right?) Good ideas are recycled and stretched to the point of dullness; the ever-present fog and itty-bitty map cause unnecessary strain on the eyes; and the perpetual threat of the contamination meter reaching maximum imposes a necessary element of haste on the player, forcing him or her to speed run the entire game before having a chance to appreciate and familiarize himself/herself with each foggy location...which increases the player's reliance on the miniscule in-game map to get through every. single. room. At least, the way I play.

If you're willing or able to overlook these issues, and don't mind the suspicious similarities to Metroid Fusion (including the fact that you actually fight Metroids in Scurge: Hive) you'll find a solid and predictably enjoyable game. As for me, my weariness meter is slowly creeping toward 100%, and I'm gonna need something stronger than another save point if I'm going to make it to the end without that weariness turning into pain.

Sunday Spotlight: Toasters

Apparently, I think toasters are very funny. I've been looking back through the GameCola archives, and so far I've found two articles and one podcast in which I make a reference to a toaster/toasters in a humorous manner. Make that three articles if you count toaster ovens. On top of two posts here on Exfanding referencing toasters.

Apparently, I think toasters are very funny.

This one, however, has to be the funniest toaster of all:

That is all.

Sunday Spotlight: James Taylor

My goodness, what a year for music. My wife and I got to see Colin Hay in concert, my favorite newly discovered artist of the past few years. We recently discovered a treasure trove of bargain-priced music at a store relatively close to where we live, and bolstered our music library with more CDs from Talking Heads, The Police, and James Taylor, to name a few. All of them were artists I wanted to hear more of, but I had a particular interest in exposing myself to more of James Taylor's music--we were getting ready to see him in concert, you see.

As my high school graduation gift, I got to see him in concert. That was it, I'd thought--a one-time-only deal. Not only was it a truly uncommon event for us to brave the traffic and massive crowds that such a big artist draws to an arena, but that concert was--and I do not throw terms around like this lightly--one of the highlights of my life. How could we possibly go back?

I'd find out awfully soon. I'd been gifted with six tickets to see James Taylor in concert for my birthday.

I will admit, my initial reaction was a mixed one of awe, excitement, and caution. I'm still as big a fan as I ever  was--there's no way I'd turn down another chance to see him in concert. And to have six tickets--one for me, one for my mother (which was part of the agreement, and I wouldn't have had it any other way), and four for whomever I liked--gave me the opportunity to share the event with four people who weren't able to go the first time around: my father, my sister, a family friend, and my wife (who was a total stranger at the time and would have raised some interesting issues with my then-girlfriend. But I digress).

Still, I was a little cautious. I've liked or loved every one of his albums I've heard, but the last decade or so had me worried a little bit--James Taylor at Christmas, One Man Band, Live at the Troubador, Covers, and Other Covers were nice enough (or what I'd heard from them, at least), but the trend I was seeing suggested to me that JT was slowing down and phasing himself out.

James Taylor is no stranger to covering other people's songs, but he's usually good for all-new material at least once per decade; two rounds of covers, a Christmas album with familiar favorites, and two live albums seem to indicate that you're at a point in your career where you've given up on songwriting for yourself altogether. In video game terms, this would roughly be the equivalent of porting and re-releasing all the same games for ten years without making any new ones, and that's when your fans assume your series has already come to an end.

The kicker here was that, in the songs I'd heard, I had noticed JT suddenly sounded older. This is a man who usually sounds like his voice hasn't aged a day since 1968, but I kept hearing mushy enunciation in his newer recordings that only served to solidify the idea in my head that the years had finally caught up with my favorite artist, and that it wouldn't be long before he'd hang up his guitar and retire from the music scene entirely.

Clearly, I am a fool. The James Taylor I heard in concert had even more energy than when I saw him the first time. This sixty-something-year-old man was literally hopping around the stage with outstretched leg and guitar in hand, sounding exactly like he did in 1968. If artists such as Pete Seeger and B.B. King can continue performing well into their 70's and 80's and 90's, then you really are only as old as you feel--to heck with the legal retirement age. James Taylor was up on stage with his band, having the time of his life.

If my blogging buddy Alex comes back this week with a post bemoaning the fact that he was unable to attend the concert with me, do have sympathy on him--the concert was fantastic--but do bear in mind that he saw Paul McCartney without me before you rule out rubbing it in a little.

Like before, we were seated on the hilly lawn of an outdoor arena. A little too far to throw your undies onstage, but close enough to still see all the action. Big screens were present to watch the live camera feed. I divided my attention about evenly between the screen and the stage; even if I had been in the front row, I would've looked up at the screen from time to time to catch the angles and closeups I'd've otherwise missed. Heck, we even looked away for a few moments to watch the technician walking around on the roof of the enclosed part of the arena--"Looks like he can't find a seat," we joked.

Other folks were walking around down where we were sitting--if you've never been to an arena with lawn seating, the performance (at least in my experience) is really more like an outdoor party with live music than a true concert. The sea of humanity around us was damp with booze, and there's no doubt that helps explain why people were occasionally standing in the way and TALKING TOO LOUDLY. We didn't pay to see James Taylor and Band Plus Noisy People Up Front, but at the same time, Noisy People Up Front probably didn't pay to attend a lawn party with us Crotchety People Who Want to Sit Quietly.

A little more common courtesy and situational awareness on the part of some other folks wouldn't have hurt, but what helped more was keeping in mind that this wasn't just about seeing and hearing this performance; it was about setting up camp on the lawn and lying down in the September (well, June) grass with a loved one and sharing the experience. Seeing James Taylor was great. Seeing him with friends and family was better, no matter who that complete stranger was who stood in front of us for half a minute with no other apparent intent than standing in front of us.

What was striking about the concert was that JT wasn't just doing all the hits, or all the songs from his latest album. It was as though he and the band looked through his entire catalog, picked out one song from each album that they felt like performing, and put together a setlist. At one point, some of the audience members up front were shouting out the names of songs they wanted to hear, and JT paused to pick up the big slate at his feet, saying, "Yep, that's on the list." Another name was shouted. "Yep, that one's on the list, too. We've got you covered," he said with a smirk.

Lo and behold, there were "Mexico" and "Fire and Rain" and "Shower the People," along with "Country Road" and, most important of all, "Sweet Baby James." Yet, there was no real buildup of anticipation for the songs everyone knows and expects, and there were even a few songs such as "Walking Man" that are on every Greatest Hits collection that never made an appearance. But, the concert was stronger for it. JT wasn't resting on his laurels and only giving the fans the songs they expected to hear; he had total ownership of the concert and played whatever the heck he darn well pleased, which frequently included the songs fans expected to hear.

It became clear to me that all these live albums and cover songs of the last decade aren't an indication that James Taylor is on his way out--they're an indication that the man already has plenty of material to perform, and he's simply enjoying performing it. As the story goes, ex-wife Carly Simon gave James the choice to save their marriage by cutting back his focus on music and performing, and his response to her ultimatum was the album Dad Loves His Work. If there was one thing that was abundantly clear during this concert, it was that Dad, without a doubt, loves his work.

On stage with JT were backup singers and instrumentalists who were apparently famous but whom I did not recognize (including saxophonist "Blue Lou" Marini, Jr.). James' introductions of the band members throughout the show were entertaining, because virtually everyone was a "legend," or at least a "maven." I don't recall much storytelling between songs the first time I saw him in concert, but this time around he was taking his time with the pace of the concert, slowing down to elaborate on the backstory of some songs and crack jokes about others.

He spoke about how "Sweet Baby James" was a cowboy lullaby to a little buckaroo, sweetly conveying the message, "goodnight, ya little varmint." When explaining the National Geographic inspiration for "The Frozen Man" (another one of my all-time favorites of his), he challenged himself to see how many times he could use the word "permafrost," being sure to interject it as often as possible. When closing out the first set with the whimsical "Sun on the Moon" (with lines like, "Me and my flea we were down by the water / Fell in a hole with Superman's daughter") he advised the audience not to think too hard about what the lyrics meant--he'd given up trying to figure them out a long time ago.

One of the greatest surprises in the concert was at the beginning of the second set. The band was reassembling onstage, and JT recounted how he was on the phone earlier with his brother Livingston, found they were both in town that evening...and invited him onstage for a duet, right there in front of us. For a few minutes, there was a fascinating interplay of two voices so tonally similar yet so distinctive--Livingston a little lower and a little more rugged; James a little higher and a little warmer. I don't even know if they'd had a chance to rehearse together, but it didn't matter--these two grew up singing together, and it was like flipping a switch to put them in duet mode. Truly something.

Livingston joined up with the backup singers for the end of the concert, which capped off the evening with a few unexpected tunes, including a cover of "The Twist" (which had us all standing up and twisting away on the lawn) and an oft-overlooked song from an oft-overlooked album by the same name, "That's Why I'm Here."

Oh, fortune and fame's such a curious game
Perfect strangers can call you by name
Pay good money to hear fire and rain
Again and again and again

Some are like summer coming back every year
Got your baby got your blanket got your bucket of beer
I break into a grin from ear to ear
And suddenly it's perfectly clear

That's why I'm here
Singin tonight, tomorrow, everyday
That's why I'm standing here
That's why I'm here

"The Twist" and "That's Why I'm Here." A letdown, perhaps, if you came to hear all the classics and expected something like "Steamroller" to finish the show. A fitting conclusion if you're having a blast watching your favorite artist have fun. I have no other explanation for his enthusiasm in jump-stomping with one last energetic strum of the guitar to end so many songs.

Yet...the concert didn't quite end there. One more encore. He'd played "Sweet Baby James" already in the first set, and I was glad to have a second chance to share that mother/son moment that perfectly ended that first concert. There wasn't anything specific I was hoping he'd play--I was just glad to have one more song.

His wife Caroline ("Kim"), who had been singing backup, came up alongside him to perform the only other song that could come close to being as meaningful a finale as "Sweet Baby James" was the first time around: "You Can Close Your Eyes."

It's the song that perfectly describes how I want to go out of this world, when the time comes: with memories of the good times we've had, and with something left behind for you to remember me by. The song that never fails to move me to tears with its beauty and hopeful, haunting reminder of how precious life is. The song I've sung countless times on car trips and at home, squeezing my wife's hand in the reassurance that despite everything we've been through, we are still here, and a part of us will always still be here no matter what happens.

There with my wife, beneath the stars, music echoing across the hill, time stood still again.

I wonder if someday we'll be able to see him in concert again, bringing along our hypothetical future children, and whether I'll have one more perfect memory of JT playing our song--whatever that song may be--just for us, at the finale.

Once more, for the chance to see my favorite artist in concert, and to share in that experience with my friends and family, I am exceedingly grateful.

Monday Spotlight: Why Was There No Sunday Spotlight?

- I got halfway through writing the post and never returned to it after leaving the house to run errands

- I was trying to finish recording that video of Space Quest 0 I've been talking about so I could write about it, but ran out of time and energy

- I ended up spending more time responding to e-mails and YouTube comments than expected

- I started nodding off while watching anime and took an impromptu 1.5-hour nap that completely threw off the flow of my evening

- I miscalculated the amount of time I'd have to write, and would prefer to go to bed at a normal hour than stay up late rushing to finish a post I'd rather take my time on

- Ninjas kidnapped the President, and I was a bad enough dude to dedicate my day to saving him instead

Sunday Spotlight: Exfanding's New Posting Model

Last Sunday I talked about the preponderance of filler on this blog recently. This Sunday we have a solution: radically revise our posting model.

We've already tried a couple of straightforward ways to help ease the burden of posting regularly off of Alex in particular: I started this Sunday Spotlight column in part to give Alex a guaranteed day off every week; we moved our self-imposed posting deadline from 11 AM to 1 PM; I even put out a call for guest posts to some friends and family, and as you can tell from all those filler posts where there should be an introduction to The Dresden Files, or a Korean pop music primer, this was a roaring success.

Hint hint, you guys.  ;)

All this time we've been fighting to maintain a 7-days-a-week posting schedule, but it's apparent that, between Alex's job obligations and my various side projects, it's infeasible to keep up. The fact that we're halfway through 2012 and still haven't completed our joint retrospective of our posting in 2011 (which was published by January 2 in 2009 and 2010) is a clear sign that we've got too much going on in our spare time, and/or too little spare time to begin with. So, it is with a pang of regret that I announce that, effective immediately, Exfanding Your Horizons will cease posting.

Cease posting every day by 1 PM, that is.

Our new model is as follows: Alex will post Wednesdays and Saturdays. I will post Tuesdays and Sundays. Rather than hold ourselves to a particular deadline, we'll post whenever we're done writing. If we happen to schedule something in advance, we'll aim for it to post at either 11 AM or 1 PM--whichever strikes our fancy. Otherwise, as long as the clock hasn't yet struck midnight, any time is fair game.

As for the rest of the week, Monday, Thursday, and Friday will be for grabs if desired. Posting on these days will be completely optional. As a result, you can expect to see more responses to YouTube comments during my lunch breaks, and heartier posts from the both of us on the days we do post.

We're also extending an open invitation for guest posts. It's been the unspoken rule that we'll consider unsolicited guest posts from anybody who offers, but I'd like to formally state that we will welcome any submissions you'd like to toss our way.

Provided they adhere to our guest posting guidelines, which our subject to change at a whim. 

That's all for now. We'll try this modified posting schedule, and maybe we'll have some more guest posts, too. Enjoy your Sunday, and--unless we're feeling particularly motivated--we'll see you again on Tuesday.

Sunday Spotlight: Blogger Bluffing

We have been posting a lot of filler on this blog recently. For me, it's been an increased focus on other projects and a number of partially successful attempts to start writing posts shortly before our extended daily deadline. For Alex, it's been work. Not long ago we had The Talk; the one that all collaborative duos need to have at some point during their careers: How strongly do we want to keep doing this?

At the time, I was absolutely fed up with everything technological, and would've been content to simply walk away from the Internet for a good long time (I've mellowed considerably since then). It wouldn't have taken much persuading for me to walk away from the blog--wrap up all the loose ends of posts we still wanted to write and say farewell. Judging from Alex's posts at the time, I assumed he wouldn't have minded taking his mind off of regular posting to focus on work and whatever else he had going.

Evidently, we're still here.

It's clear to me that this blog is not something that either of us truly wants to abandon. It's a forum to geek out, voice opinions, share the cool things that interest us. It's cathartic. It's the best way for the two of us as friends to stay in touch. It's also a routine, and once something's a routine, it's easy to cop out as long as you're still technically checking it off your list.

I've been a bachelor with a sink full of dishes; I know what I'm talking about.

Committing to a daily posting routine is a huge contributing factor in why we're still here. Sticking to a routine keeps the momentum going. The occasional filler post is a small price to pay for ensuring this well-oiled blogging machine keeps running. But...what happens when we start oiling the machine with fluff?

We get really bizarre metaphors, is what.

I wonder sometimes what our readers think about the way we've been posting recently, with all the excuses and apologies and fleeting glimpses at what's going on. I wonder whether they're as antsy as we are to get back to more substantial posts about the fandoms we love, and whether this chapter of the blog's history is one worth keeping up with every day. In the long run, would our readers do better to wait for the Month in Review, where the "real" posts are clearly marked? Should we keep posting every day, even on the days when the posts barely count? Or would we be better off with a sporadic posting schedule, saving up our writing mojo for the days when we can take the time to craft what we most want to write?

I don't have any answers; I'm only posing the questions. For now, we'll keep plugging along as best we can, bluffing our way through daily posting where necessary. And maybe, on days like today, we can post some fluff and make a suitable pillow out of it.

Because that's what we're aiming to make these days with our well-oiled metaphor.

Sunday Spotlight: The Two Guys from Andromeda

If you've been keeping up with my articles on GameCola or listening to the latest video game buzz, you'll know that Mark Crowe and Scott Murphy, the Two Guys from Andromeda (of Space Quest fame), are making a new adventure game. This was the most exciting video game news I'd heard since word of Mega Man 9 first hit the streets--I signed up for every fan page and mailing list the Two Guys had, and eagerly awaited every update.

If you know anything about the way I normally operate when I get wind of a new entertainment project of interest, this might sound a little uncharacteristic of me. Once I know something exists, or is going to exist, I tune out all news and spoilers unless I'm particularly confused or concerned about the finished product. Under normal circumstances, I'd be excited to know that the Two Guys were together again and working on a game.

However, I'm the biggest Space Quest fan I know. In fact, I'm one of the only Space Quest fans I know. I'm aware of a few people who've played some of the series, but any mention of the games is usually in passing, and because I brought up the topic to begin with. When you feel like the lone champion of a cause, it's not unusual to be all the more zealous about it to keep the interest alive; both for this reason and because I enjoy the games enough to be a zealous fanboy to begin with, I've managed to get this notion in my head that I'm some hotshot Biggest Fan Ever.

I'm fully aware that I'm not the Biggest Fan Ever. I never made my own fangame (though I thought about it) or dressed up in costume as one of the characters (though I thought about it), and I didn't hang around on the Space Quest message boards for over a decade in the hopes that this long-dead series would miraculously be revived (though...actually, I'm not much of a message board guy, so I never thought about it). But now that Space Quest is suddenly back with a vengeance--the SQ2 VGA remake, Incinerations, Vohaul Strikes Back, and now the supposedly unrelated Two Guys project, all in a matter of months--I am overwhelmed at the mere thought of being the Biggest Fan Ever, because there's no way I'd ever come close to meeting the requirements.

The Two Guys' official website is bursting with content that I can't keep up with. Podcast interviews. Weekly contests. Minecraft levels built to look like Space Quest locations. "Let's Play" videos of Scott and Mark playing through all six Space Quest games together. I'm unaccustomed to being on the front lines of a developing fandom, and I simply don't know how to process this much geek input. Even when I was at the height of my involvement with my YouTube channel and fully immersed in Mega Man, I wasn't just being a huge fanboy, but a mentor and an entertainer and a friend. I've never thrown myself purely into the consumer side of a fandom the way some people have, and it's almost sickening to hear the real Biggest Fans Ever talking about how profoundly comprehensive their knowledge and experience of the Space Quest fandom has been...up to and including being on a first-name basis with the developers.

What's striking about this so-called "Space Venture" project is how close to the fans the people responsible are. The cult of celebrity too often elevates people to a godlike status, and it's almost unsettling to have the Two Guys who are so revered by their fans offering so many opportunities for fan participation in the development of this project. Maybe it's the dawn of a new era where celebrities are just regular people with cool jobs, or maybe it's the start of an unhealthy obsession with deified developers who have deigned to step down from their crystal palace in the clouds to walk among the morals for a spell. Either way, I feel barely qualified to be along for the ride.

More and more of my fandoms are going mainstream, and mainstream is going more and more social. I'm losing my identity as a geek because now everybody's a geek, and because there are bigger geeks only a few clicks away. I'm not longing for the days of being ostracized for my interests, but I'm starting to wish that all the time I've spent as a consumer of fandoms still gave me the same amount of geek cred that I used to have. It seems you can't just like anything anymore; you have to live it to be a true fan.

I'm excited that Space Quest is alive and well, and that the Two Guys are back together again on a new project. I don't think I could ever be devoted enough to go beyond just plain "excited," however. Instead of throwing myself wholeheartedly into being a follower of the "Space Venture" project, I'll show my support the way I always have--by playing the game when it comes out, and by participating in whatever capacity suits me until then. For now, I'm content to check in here and there to see what's new, and that's good enough for me. I'm not the Biggest Fan Ever--and I don't have to be to enjoy the fandom for myself.

Sunday Spotlight: Being Angry at Everything

I probably won't be angry by the time you read this. When we're not posting two or three hours past our self-imposed deadline, we actually do aim to write these things in advance. That's how it is for me now: I'm writing this post in advance, and I'm angry.

There's nothing in particular that triggered it. I got up, went to work, came home, watched a movie with my wife, and started prepping for the weekend. Fine and dandy. But I've been angry all day. Lack of sleep? Anger-inducing dream I don't remember? Stressed about another weekend booked solid from Friday until late Sunday, no matter how fun the activities consuming it might be? I can't say. I'm just angry at everything.

To the casual observer, you might not be able to tell. I've still smiled and laughed and generally been myself. Yet my default position all day has been simmering anger--if that's even a position--and the little things have been much quicker to get under my skin, and good things need to be way better than average to feel all that good to me.

Bruce Banner says in The Avengers that his secret to keeping The Hulk under wraps is that he's always angry. I understand exactly how that feels today. And I really don't know why.

Sunday Spotlight: Part 7 of That D&D Story I'm Taking Forever to Tell

[Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8]

After one last sweep of the room, the adventurers progress upstairs to a curved hallway lined with barred windows on the left and wooden doors on the right. A little colder up here, the heroes can see out onto the snowy, barren expanse surrounding the tower. The first door they come across bears a sign that reads, "Trading Post," though in retrospect, it would've been amusing if one of the letters had been worn away so that the sign read "Trading Po t" instead. They open the door and pile into a relatively small room with a wooden counter, a pile of containers against the wall, and a small, terrifying man in a blood-red cap.

Putting on an accent that I can only describe as "crazed old man pretending he's Scottish despite never having heard a Scottish accent before," I begin to speak to the players as the redcap. Wish that I could remember exactly what I said, but the exchange of dialogue essentially proceeds like this:

PLAYERS: "Hello, creepy shopkeep. Have you any wares? We've never been shopping before and aren't looking for anything in particular. Also, we're very poor because we didn't go searching the crates in the basement for goods to sell you, so we're really not sure what we're doing here. Be afraid of us! We might attack you! Uh...just kidding. You are fascinatingly creepy."

REDCAP SHOPKEEP: "Buy something, or I'll eat ya."

The redcap continually needs to restrain himself from killing the party--though he talks openly about desiring to do so. Redcaps by nature are highly superstitious, and he's been told by the master of the tower that it's bad luck to eat the customers--something he continually needs to remind himself of whenever he begins to think aloud how refreshing it would be to cut them open and soak his cap in their blood.

Before the campaign began, I had asked the players whether there was any equipment they'd like to see show up somewhere in the quest, perhaps something they couldn't afford to buy as part of their starting equipment. I got one request for an Armband of Elusive Action, which allows the wearer once a day to avoid provoking an attack of opportunity--for example, offering an opening for the enemy to strike her in the back as she turns away to disengage from melee combat. The shopkeeper is wearing one of these armbands and is willing to part with it; otherwise, most of his wares are all the typical equipment and items you could find in the Player's Handbook. Finally, after realizing that they are not obligated to patronize a shop simply because it exists, the party departs.

They don't get very far down the hallway before they hear large footsteps coming toward them. Taking point, Sally the elan psychic warrior is the first to spot a large horned creature wearing a tattered old vest, like some sort of respectable butler polymorphed into a giant beast that's CHARGING RIGHT AT US!! Dia, the elf ranger, fires at the foe from a distance. Sally, carrying a weapon I've rarely seen player characters favor, is perhaps the first person in any of my D&D campaigns who has been in a position to mount a spear against a charge and deal double damage against the attacker. The minotaur goes down.

Loot: 200 gold, a potion of Magic Fang, a masterwork buckler, and a key ring that had been hanging from his horn.

Party divides up the loot and gains experience points from the DM...except the DM is a moron who can't read the XP chart, and wonders why the party is halfway through the tower and still hasn't leveled up yet.

In a stroke of brilliance, the party drags the minotaur corpse to the trading post and sells it to the redcap shopkeep, who is overjoyed to have fresh blood, red blood. CREEPY OKAY MOVING ON.

Continuing down the hallway, the party grabs a slip of paper fluttering against one of the bars, about to fly out the window. It reads, "...trace the lightning back to the clouds from whence it came..." Behind them is a door to a room filled with bunk beds sized large enough for half-giants, but seemingly comfortable for smaller creatures as well. The only item of real interest in this spotless room is another scrap of paper: "...and underground are hidden hazards unknown..."

The next cryptic fragment is found through the dining hall around the corner, and inside the adjoining smaller bedroom (presumably for the kitchen staff): "...flame which warms the frozen lands..." Across from the bedroom is the kitchen, with a sizable boiling stew pot fuming up some noxious smells. Sally, believing the stew is somehow poisonous (and not just a blend of really gross ingredients) decides to kick over the pot, setting herself on fire with the flames under the pot. She quickly puts herself out. She and Dia then find sharp kitchen knives (technically, masterwork daggers) and return to the dining hall with Salieri the half-elf cleric.

Salieri has been mostly hanging back this whole time, but the player controlling him has been keeping track of the events of the quest. For posterity, for historical accuracy when referring back to an adventure in future quests, and for blog posts like this one, I like to designate a party scribe who'll jot down at least basic bullet points of everything that happens--though I've had one or two people turn their notes into hysterical memoirs of the character they played. I award 250 XP up front for whoever agrees to take notes, and grant them an extra 5 XP every time they gain XP for any other reason. Fair compensation for their efforts without putting them too far ahead of their fellow party members, I believe, plus the gratitude of the DM.

Now, I wasn't expecting the players to run into the minotaur so soon, let alone take him down so effortlessly. I had hoped for at least a little bit of time spent fighting him somewhere around the dining hall area of this floor, or hiding from him in one of the bedrooms along the hallway. As they went to leave the dining hall, the characters were surprised to find that the minotaur was still very much alive, and was about to burst into the room for a real fight.

What they didn't know at the time was that they hadn't killed the minotaur--only dropped him to negative hit points. Before he could bleed to death at -10 HP, the redcap shopkeeper fed a healing potion to his ally, as it's bad luck to let the groundskeeper bleed to death. That's not to say he didn't do anything creepy before reviving the minotaur, but I prefer not to think about what my murderous characters do when I'm not looking.

So hey, the minotaur's back. Roll for initiative. Turn order is Dia, Salieri, Huggarth (the minotaur, whose name was never revealed during the quest), and Sally. The battle rages for eleven turns, or a little over a minute. During this time, Sally is engaging the minotaur in close-quarters combat while Dia and Sally learn about the penalties for firing into melee without possibly harming their allies if they miss. I like to offer the option of taking the standard -4 to your attack roll to shoot carefully enough to never hit your friends, or rolling as normal and then tossing a d6 to see what, exactly, you hit if you miss the target by more than 4.

Despite dishing out some considerable damage, the half-blind minotaur is still not quite a match against the heroes. He bolts out of the dining hall and heads toward the trading post to enlist the help of Rowdy Roddy Redcap (another name that was never revealed to the players), who is more than excited to cut open customers who have become intruders. Joining the fray at the top of the turn order, the redcap helps to turn the tide of the battle in the bad guys' favor, but the DM is too much of a softie to let one of the heroes die instantly after receiving more damage in a single blow than anyone at this level has any right to receive in a normal combat situation--there may or may not have been a fudged die roll that allowed the character to survive at around -8 HP or so. Evidently the dice were trying to make up for several turns of the monsters whiffing thanks to unbelievably low rolls.

Toward the end of the battle, the angry minotaur turns on the redcap, complaining that this isn't worth fighting and continually dying for anymore. With the extra damage dealt by the minotaur, the heroes kill the redcap--who instantly vanishes, leaving behind only a tooth--as well as the minotaur. With the trading post unguarded, the party finally behaves like normal adventurers and ransacks the place for everything it's worth.

Loot: Ring of Protection +1, 10 crossbow bolts of Minor Blinding, a Cognizance Crystal (1 Power Point), an Amulet of Toxin Delay, the aforementioned Armband of Elusive Action, a potion of Invisibility, a scroll of Glitterdust, the aforementioned redcap tooth, dragonhide gloves, a rhinohide sack, 1801 GP, and a scrap of paper saying "...the rain that brings life to all nature..."

This time when consulting the XP table, the DM realizes that all this time, he has been a moron. Now reading the correct amounts on the experience table, he awards an appropriate amount of XP for an encounter against these monsters, and gives the players everything he had inadvertently cheated them out of before. At last, the party is at the appropriate level for that last battle.

::sigh::

Seeing that it's a good time for the characters to take a rest and recover their HP--and a good time for the players to take a break, level up their characters, and go to bed for the evening--the party heads to one of the bedrooms, bars the door, and goes to sleep.

When we return to play again the next day, I find the players have completely rewritten my campaign.


[To be concluded in Part 8.]