Critical Thought: Deal double discussion damage!

In the roleplaying game Dungeons and Dragons, a critical hit is an attack which deals double damage to its target. It seeks to simulate the randomness inherent in combat - even the lowliest of peons has a slim chance of stabbing Satan directly in his old racquetball injury, conquering the beast.

It is a random event that players pine for but with a bit of work they can make critical hits occur much more frequently, tipping the balance of power in their favour.

Critical thought is a similar boon to those wrestling with the metaphorical beasts that haunt the world, and it does not need to be as random as the roll of a dice.

Thinking critically is an important skill for interpreting the world around you. It is easily confused with cynicism. It requires judgment of content beyond the surface value.

Judgment, common sense, scientific evidence, analysis and evaluation all come together to create the goal of critical thought.

Here's an example: You read an article in a magazine or newspaper. Do you consume it and believe wholeheartedly what it says, without question? Many do. The alternative is to judge said article amongst the rest of the publication's content to determine its overall stance. Are there advertisements there? What do they say? A glowing review of a trip to Bali is good for the traveler to read, but must be taken in a vastly different context is accompanied by an ad for cheap airfares to the destination.

A good example is a newspaper running an article pointing out the flaws of Media Watch - Australia's most visible media watchdog. When reading that, it's interesting to find out whether the newspaper has had a blunder aired via Media Watch in the recent past. I've seen this happen before, to hilarious effect.

We all do a certain amount of critical thinking. When we get a letter from the Botslivanian Lottery Commission saying we've won a gajazigglion dollars were understand the context - they don't have money for us, they want ours.

If your friend asks to set you up with a supernaturally beautiful woman, no strings attached, but he might tag along, you already know she has a super hot friend he's angling towards.

If you view a row of movies on the new release shelf, those that you've never heard of before may look great, but the lack of advertising they have received speaks volumes. Yes, even Transmorphers.

These skills, when utilised in the digestion of media, are a welcome boon. You two can be a lowly peon, hitting Satan in his dodgy heart valve with a pistachio nut.

Weekend delight

DSCF0424.jpg, originally uploaded by obscene_pickle.

Here is a photo of my friend Maryse and I taken this weekend.

It depicts:

* Me at the Harley Davidson Club.

* Me casting a critical eye over a photograph of a woman urinating on her verandah.

* A magazine dedicated to those who like to urinate and defecate in public for the purposes of sexual arousal.

* Me smoking.

For the above reasons I submit that I am awesome, as is this photo and its taker, Leen. Discuss.

Hung.

Today I suffered through the worst hangover I have had in quite some time.

At about 4.30pm I regained the ability to eat a small bread roll without exploding, and it was all uphill from there.

I had a great night though. So ... worth it. However, my breakfast bacon - lovingly prepared for me by the gorgeous Leen - went uneaten. Never before have I scorned bacon. It was a tragedy.

As I lied on the couch through the afternoon, the soothing voice of David Attenborough caressing my woozy brain, I ruminated on change. As I progressed from documentaries to Sex and the City, I began to look for morals Bradshaw style.

In the past I thought nothing of an absent Sunday, routinely crushing it under the weight of the previous night. But now, I'm filled with irritation and remorse. Think of all the things I could've been doing in those hours? If I was going to writhe around clutching my skull with my legs held at odd angles, I could at least have been participating in a chic workshop on interpretive dance.

If I could go back in time I believe I would choose to share the vodka rather than hog it, but Que Sera Sera.

Que Sera Sera
Whatever will be will be
The future's not covered in bees
Que Sera Sera

Covered in Bees

My latest obsession: inserting the line "covered in bees" into any and all songs.

For example:


Kiss From a Rose:
...I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey,
o-oh, the more I think of you covered in bees, ye-eah...

Piece of Me:
...I'm Ms covered in bees, since I was seventeen...

I Will Always Love You:
...And I, ee-I, ee-I, will always love you,
and I, am covered in beeeees...

You get the idea.

Try it. You'll like it. And it's totally going to be a thing. If you come up with any particular gems, leave them in the comments.

Sweet Oblivion

I recently heard World of Warcraft referred to as 'crack you take in through you fingertips'.

It's a shame that's already taken, as I was about to describe Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion the exact same way.

I've been playing through it for about a fabajazillyon hours, and am not approaching completion.

The game, an RPG comfortably on the other side of expansive, is taking up all the time I'd usually spend blogging, sleeping and going to the toilet.

I borrowed a friend's Playstation 3, and feel bad for all the other games.

Now, if you'll excuse me, my level 18 High Elf Mage has to go slay this pesky Lich. Meanwhile, on the other side of the great barrier [or TV screen], my ass will grow large and unwieldy.

The lost rant

I didn't post anything Friday because I was busy spewing out onto Geoff Klock's poor blog a review of Lost's last episode before the hiatus. It became a surprisingly long rant, fed mostly by my frustration at having no new Lost to watch for the last two weeks.
I'll reproduce it here. Mr Klock's excellent blog is reachable through the links on the right.


I miss Lost. Deeply.

It was a mistake to crush my longing under the wait of a three season marathon, held over two weeks, as now my brain has melted.

However, I did re-encounter many things I had forgotten, such as the 'Adam and Eve' skeletons and the white and black rocks they held.

Please allow me space to discuss the last available episode, 'Meet Kevin Johnson', as a way to ease my pain. I may cover well-worn ground. I apologise.

I the reason I feel such anticipation for Lost's return is that this episode was deeply unsatisfying, even for a Lost apologist such as myself.
The previous episode, in which Jin's potential demise is revealed, would've been a much stronger break point, as I believe was the writer's intention. It's a shame the writer's strike had this affect at all, as otherwise 'Johnson' could've survived as a bum note amongst the greatness of this season. As it is, the seemingly tacked-on final scene pays testament to the artificial level of drama this episode is vested with. It crumples under the pressure.

Michael's backstory was dull. More importantly, it was a waste of potential bordering on criminal.
We already knew the broad strokes. Michael must've lost Walt along the way, as he would not've voluntarily left his side. He must've been coerced by the Others at some point. He was on the boat. The revealed flashback seemed a perfunctory manner in which to tell this story.

In outlining the squandered potential of which I speak, four points are considered:
The actor who plays Walt is aging at a rate too rapid for him to remain in the show;
This season has cemented that time travel is a cornerstone of the show, including a revelation that there is a schism in time between the island and elsewhere;
While Michael has been gone a long time from the audience's perspective, his departure was a recent occurrence for the characters - he has not been gone very long, and;
Michael's return is unlikely to result in a pat on the back from his former castaway chums.

With that in mind, I had high hopes for Michael's experience. It seemed certain in my mind that time travel was the perfect device to account for Walt's accelerated ageing and allow Michael time to change into his current guise.
Admittedly, it's my fault that my imagination ran away from me in a 'my, wouldn't that be awesome' fashion, but putting disparate pieces together in that fashion is encouraged in the viewing of Lost, and is what makes it so compelling. Rarely have I done so and been disappointed. Blindsided, flabbergasted and dumbfounded, but not disappointed.

So, instead of a time-travelling romp with the Hostiles, we got to see Michael being depressed because he sucks so hard.

It is, admittedly, a natural progression for his character to go through. On paper, Michael's arc should be one of the most compelling in the show - "desperate father goes to extreme lengths to save his son from first isolation and then capture, losing his soul in the process" - but in the execution it has been one of the show's weaker elements.

Whenever presented with a choice, Michael has taken the wrong path. His choice of a life partner, the first choice we are privy to in a chronological sense, was a dismal failure. He took Walt on the raft. He set off into the jungle alone. He killed two women. He postponed his return to the show to film a failed pilot.

This episode was an extension of that. Compelling arc. Poorly told.

There were bright spots. The concept of the island preventing Michael's death delivered by a man who had time to sabotage his gun. Sayid's rage. Tom continuing to be entirely awesome. Automatic weapon-toting psychopaths and the future they suggest. I always enjoy seeing the freighter captain, as I remember him as the host of a somewhat dodgy Australian reality program called "The Mole".

As mentioned by Geoff previously, the Others' belief that they are the good guys is compelling. I want it to be true simply for the joy I find in skilful misdirection, but it would require an explanation that included an elastic, broken morale code to be convincing. They have done terrible things, and justification is needed if their altruism is to be proven.

Thanks for your time. I needed that.

Me. My cat.

DSCF9992.jpg, originally uploaded by obscene_pickle.

Here is a picture of my cat Mo Mo and I.

She is rarely affectionate, but has her moments. I always look this disheveled, and seem to wear the same shirt whenever photography is on the menu.

Please continue with your day.

TV I Love: Flight of the Concords

Flight of the Concords follows New Zealand lads Germane and Brett as they try to make it big in the Big Apple with their band, aptly named Flight of the Concords.
Their duo is spruiked as the former fourth most popular folk parody music act in New Zealand.
When Time magazine selected Flight of the Concords as number two on their "Top Ten Best New TV Shows" list for 2007, they were dead on.

The show screens on HBO - always fertile ground for good TV - and comes after a BBC radio serial. It's a shame no-one in the Australian media sought to give them a chance, although it may be for the best.

The show utilisies some well-worn cliches - hopeless slackers try to survive in the big smoke, musicians remain convinced of their excellence despite the evidence at hand - but feels very fresh.

Germane and Brett are quintessential slackers - introverted men of few words who show little emotion, choosing instead to express themselves through song.
Therein lies the joy of the show. Each episode contains one or two of the duos absurdly hilarious songs that jump back and forth through the fourth wall with aplomb. Some songs are inner monologues, some are sung directly to supporting characters, some are dreams and some seesaw through all of these states.
Most importantly though, they are hilarious.

The boys are managed by Murray, who works at New York's New Zealand Consulate and looks after the band out of his office, often in secret. There's some great sight gags in the Consulate offices, with their outdated computers and tourism posters sporting slogans such as "New Zealand - It's just like Lord of the Rings".

Repeated depictions of Australians as brash loudmouths are good for some laughs, as is the American populace's general disinterest in learning anything about New Zealand.

There's also laughs to be had in the band's only fan Mel, an obsessive stalker whose ignored husband is always just out of view, waiting patiently in the car.

But much of the fun comes through the music - unsurprising given the duo's origins as a musical stand-up act.

For example:



Really, the appeal of the show is pretty simple. It's really funny, inventive, and really, really funny.

Assassin's Creed: A Review

You're sitting in a beautiful restaurant, sharing wine and tall tales with good friends, when your steak finally arrives. You're starving and it looks delicious. You cut away a bite-sized chunk and place it in your mouth, savoring the anticipated moment. Immediately you discover to your horror and confusion that it tastes terrible. Disappointment reigns as you realise your evening shall not live up to expectations, and you're now broke.

Much like the beautiful girl across a crowded bus who strikes up a conversation and turns out to be duller than an Orc Peon's axe, or the lush film that turns out to be directed by Michael Bay, there is Assassin's Creed.

The player controls an ex-assassin living in the near future who is undergoing experimentation in a mysterious lab. He is placed in a machine to live out his "genetic memories", allowing him to relive the experiences of his ancestor, a great assassin operating in 1191. The ultimate goal of the game is to relive the assassinations of nine people who are instigating The Crusades. This will allow the future scientists to achieve something through the tried and true method of technobabble.

It's a good story, and the future framing sequence is a particular stroke of genius. Playing as a character who is interfacing with a machine allows in-world explanations as to why game elements such as a health bar and control map appear on screen. They are transformed from a necessary evil into a part of the world itself. It's a great touch.

The graphics are gorgeous. Assassin's Creed is the best-looking game to come along. Environments approach photorealism. The main character model moves fluidly and sharply, even passers-by move naturally.

Another astounding innovation is the interactivity of the world. You can climb and vault absolutely everything. Nothing stands in your way and it works seamlessly, intuitively.

Visually, the game is breathtaking.

Unfortunately, it's also really, really boring.

Traversing a three dimensional landscape looks impressive, but requires the player to just hold a button down.

Combat looks impressive, is also a one-button affair.

It's all very elegant and simple, but it's dull. Add to this the tedious nature of the missions and there is nothing to keep attention.

The promise of a free world is squandered by enforcing dozens of tiny, specific missions - like gathering information or pickpocketing - that involve travelling somewhere and pressing one button.

In the end, the game is impressive until you start to actually play it, and then it's just plain boring.

It deserves praise for its innovation and presentation, but it's just not a good game.