Make No Bones About It.

I continuously surprise myself at the realization of the distance I must travel in terms of self-improvement and, consequently, self-actualization. This distance was again put into sharp focus last week during (my final) Spring Break -- this usually happens when I have the much-needed privilege and responsibility of looking after Veronica. There's nothing quite like parenting to give you the proper perspective of your position in the world; it dawned on me as well that I needed to apply the lessons I learn while trying to be a good father to other aspects of my life.

Last week, it was reinforced to varying degrees that I need to keep working on my senses of patience, fairness, discipline, permissiveness, consistency and empathy (this is a big one). I've made reference to them before, but the lack of those skills contribute to much of my internal instability. I'm glad I've started to really recognize what my deficits are, when I used to just ignore/deny my faults (which did absolutely no one any good).

Well, my road to recovery begins with the admittance of my shortcomings, and the progress I will take to overcome them. This week I embark on that journey. It's time to face my skeletons. Fittingly (and kinda hilariously), a screenshot from one of the videogames of my childhood represents this well.

See you at the top.

Parkour + Robots + Insane Footspeed = Canabalt.

Hey it's the middle of the week and you could probably use a little break. I got just the thing.

In Canabalt, all you do is run and try to escape a city being overrun by giant robots. Actually, the game "runs" for you so all you need to do is push X or C to jump. But they better be carefully timed jumps, or you're meeting your maker. Okay, so it's not really "parkour" -- just a lot of jumping and some really fast running.

Very simple concept, and to my knowledge there's no ending (you just try to run as far as you can) but it's oddly addicting. The atmosphere of the game is, in a word, menacing -- tense music, angry mecha destroying the buildings on the horizon, the occasional rocket fly-by that shakes everything in sight -- and combines perfectly with the sense of urgency to GTFO!

Play it a couple of times and escape. Then it's back to work for you -- until the robots arrive for real.

Videogame Nostalgia, Real & Imagined.

[My recent post on Paul Robertson's work serves as partial inspiration for the following.]

I kind of miss playing videogames.

If you're a 70s baby like me, memories of your childhood are most likely punctuated by colorful visions of videogames played on consoles beginning with the Atari 2600 (yes, even square-ass bootleg Pac-Man) and the occasional epic excursion to the almighty video arcade¹. Over time, console technology progressively advanced and games became better in every conceivable way -- as did my gaming experiences themselves. I acutely remember:

• playing Donkey Kong, wide-eyed, for the first time on the 2600;
• the incredible rush of beating Contra on the NES;
• attempting to play MarioKart 64, out of control and happily drunk as hell on cheap vodka²;
• the awe at seeing Gran Turismo racers hug corners on the PlayStation;
• being enthralled by the painstakingly-crafted Grand Theft Auto 3 on the PS2;
• the intense satisfaction of stomping alien ass in Gears Of War on the XBox 360 ...

... among numerous other fun memories. However, as much as I like watching and playing videogames, I don't think I've ever considered myself a "gamer." The last console I actually owned was a PS2, and even that was given to me as an awesome gift -- I don't think I would've bought it for myself otherwise. And currently, there's not a videogame system to be found in my apartment.

So I guess the thing I miss the most about videogames is the social aspect of playing, whether it's trying to blast each other's goofy pixelated tank in Combat, shredding axes with family members in Guitar Hero or running around on Mongooses³ with three friends in the Halo universe. Playing these games, competitively or cooperatively, with other people is the biggest reason I was drawn to them in the first place. Even if I did have my old PS2 here, I really don't think I would play. There's no one to share the experience with.

Switching gears: Videogame box art, like the playing experience, has definitely improved over the years and deserves its own genre (peep some classic artwork and some awesome fan-made pieces). But what would the artwork look like if videogames had been around back in the 1950s-1960s? Every week, Something Awful holds Photoshop Phridays, where people create images based on a certain theme. Recently the concept was "Classy Games" where artists were challenged to come up with retro-inspired artwork to grace a videogame box. Browse the submissions here [Part 1, Part 2, Bonus Images], but owing to my love of minimalist, clean design, here are the ones that caught my eye:

Some of these are dope enough to frame. Enjoy.

¹Speaking of arcades, reading this thread made me strangely sad and nostalgic. Biggie, you were right -- things done changed.
²We were ultimately unsuccessful at "racing" and predictably, motion sickness and vomiting ensued. I do not recommend this. Actually wait, I do. You only live once, you know.
³Mongeese?