Wednesday, March 30, 2016

My Best Insult

I'm not all the good at insults.  Sure, I talk a good game (Get it? Insults are spoken! Get it?!), but I always seize up when insulted in person.  I'm just not that quick.  Five minutes later, I have a good comeback.

Enter the internet.  Every conversation is on threads.  All comments are a few minutes apart.  I'm suddenly 15% smarter than in person (and 30% sexier).

I'm also far more polite on the internet.  Insulting someone from the anonymity of the internet is like what we gamers call Spawn Camping; you can hurt a large number of people without any consequences to yourself.  
Spawn Camping. .. what game is that?

I never spawn camp.  Also, I never play multiplayer shooters.

I'm also polite because I'm waiting to use a comeback in response to an insult.  It's the online equivalent of a daisy-cutter bomb: 
Insulting a stranger from the safety of the internet is the act of a coward.

I don't know why you choose to act this way, perhaps it's the abuse heaped on you by the men who pay you for sexual favors.  Perhaps it's a genetic defect surfacing after generations of inbreeding.
Whatever the reason, I have no interest in talking to you anymore.

I don't know why this works so well.  Whatever the case, most of my attackers go silent, block me, or (at the very least) sputter for a few hours and then come back with something incoherent about being insulted by someone they insulted.

Feel free to use it yourself.  It's highly gratifying.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

The Campbell's Soap

In trying to write a CV (a kind of pharmacy) I came across a television show I used to work on in college called The Campbell's Soap.  It was a show on our local, college TV network.  The premise of the show was...


I guess I don't remember.  One kid was a serial killer.  I decided he had a sock on his hand that told him to kill people.  Okay, that might have been a rip off of Night Court.

Anyway, if you go on YouTube and can stomach your way through the horrible production values, poor acting, and crude conversion to the internet, you can see some of what I did.

Here's some samples:

My scene is at 7:46 where they cart the killer away.

My scene is at about 27 seconds in about breaking up with someone (which I'd never done, hence the subtitles).

The weird thing about it for me is that it's humor.  I had a good time writing it.  I'm happy just remembering working on it.

Why is humor so difficult now?

Maybe I need to work on a team.  I wonder where all the kids from college went...

Sunday, March 20, 2016

GDC 2016 Booth Babe Report

Due to a shocking number of companies desperate for my time (or so I tell my children), I once again have little time to update this blog.  However, in the interest of keeping my rabid fans happy (or so I tell my children), I'll give you a quick update on the number of booth babes at this year's Game Developer's Conference.

There was 1.  Here she is, expressing how happy she is I deigned to take a picture with her.
"You're kinda cute for a game developer!"
She was there because of a game called Clash of Kings.  Their company was conspicuously frugal in how they set up their booth.

This picture doesn't even do it justice.
Yes.  Those are knights in armor preparing to have a sword fight.
Yes.  Those are full-sized mannequins of knights on either side.
Yes.  They built a fake castle with a carpet moat and field in front of it.
Yes.  There is a movie screen above it.
Yes.  Everyone at the conference got a Clash of Kings tote bag.

No.  I don't think the game is any good.  If you're putting that much money trying to advertise your game to geeks who make games, you're pretty desperate.

Now, if you want a good example of throwing money at geeks who make games, allow me to introduce you to the Destructoid party.  What's Destructoid?  That's an excellent question.

No, seriously, I have no idea what they are.  All I know is that they had a party.  The party looked like this:
This was the best picture I could get.
It was nearly pitch black.  The music was so loud it made my sternum vibrate.
It was packed with geeks who make games.

Oh, and they had a booth babe upstairs to greet everyone.  Now this is how you do a booth babe:
The eyes also light up in red.
I mean, I still don't know what Destructoid is, but I do know they're related to muscly guys wearing green robot heads.

So, I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking "Oh, my GOD Matthew is so amazing!  I want to name all my children after him.  Also, does this mean the GDC is finally getting past its sexist roots?"

Well, yes and no.  Yes, you can name your children after me.  No, we're not past sexism.  Other than the women who told me about unwanted touching by men at the conference, there was a Microsoft party where dancers dressed as erotic schoolgirls.

Oh and there was a guy outside the Moscone Convention Center who said "Independent game developer party tonight!" and handed me this card:

Yup.  A strip club.
The battle rages on, friends.

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Saturday, March 5, 2016


I found plagiarism this morning, and it was so upsetting, I wrote this (admittedly self-indulgent) piece.
"When a man lies, he murders some part of the world."
Merlin, Excalibur
"I found them growing on a grave, which bore no tombstone, no other memorial of the dead man, save these ugly weeds. They grew out of his heart, some hideous secret that was buried with him."
Chillingworth, The Scarlet Letter

It's easy to condemn liars.  It's easy to stand before the world and shout your purity.  It's far harder to look within yourself, to root out falsehoods of your own devising.  Myths creep into our thinking so subtly we don't see them, sometimes after they're impossible to ignore.

Deceit is a mixture of growth and poison.  It starts as a tiny seed of self-preservation.
  • It won't happen again.
  • I'll make it up to her.
  • He'd do it to me.
  •  I want it to be true.
  • I'm desperate.

It may take years for these seeds to germinate, to sprout forth in horrid shoots.
  • I want to stop, but I just can't.
  •  She's getting the better end of the bargain.
  • He's worse than I am.
  • I'd rather risk a lifetime than an eternity.
  • It's not hurting me.

Then they bloom, they flow from the breast and split into choking leaves.  You protect them.  They're a part of you, nearly impossible to remove.

It's painful to dig them out.  Their roots tangle around your ribcage.  You have to tug at their stems rip them free from your flesh.  The holes left behind never completely fill with earth again.
  • I'm always going to be like this.
  • I do lots of nice things for her.
  • He deserves it.
  • We don't know everything.
  • They should have told me it was wrong.

Some can't; they end up with gruesome roots dangling from their hearts.  In their shame, they hide them, cover them, seed others.
  • You're no better.
  • Never trust women.
  • Don't be like him.
  • You're too young to question.
  • Only use this if you're desperate.

Our world is overrun by foliage.  Forests, brush and grass covers everyone.  The ponds are choked with green muck.  The air is full of browning leaves and yellow pollen.

It is a beautiful, poisonous land we live in.