Nanobots

I met up with my high-school friend Roy and some of his visiting friends at Katz Deli, where we ate piles of deli meat and exchanged expat stories. Expat stories are are like regular stories, only with more “at the Kazahkstan border crossing” and “then he got deported” involved.

“I can’t eat any more of this,” I finally said. “It’s delicious, but I can actually hear my arteries clogging.”

“Don’t worry, Meg,” Roy said, “By the time we’re old, we’ll be able to buy new cybertronic organs. And nanobots will maintain them.”

“You’re so right! I don’t have to maintain a healthy lifestyle, I just need to be fit enough that nanobots catch up before these fries do! Yay for science!”

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Nerd Baby


Also, Allison would like to introduce everyone to HaveYouHadThatBabyYet.com

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Awesome

Alt-tabbing between writing a personal message (Hi Figment! How are your zombie muppets?), reading a work email (…availability of space transport and time travel relies on…) and working on a tutorial (…to best handle killer monkeys…).

Awesome.

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Journalists’ Secret Handshake

I always feel like when I make just a little bit more money on a story, or get into a magazine with a slightly higher circulation, I’ll feel like a real writer.

But right now, whenever I receive a press pass, I think I’ve tricked the event organizers into letting me go. When I receive review games, I worry that the developers are wasting a copy on me. They’ll send me a game, just for talking about it? That can’t be real! While I’m getting better at calling myself a writer, I still think it requires qualifiers. Yeah, I’m a writer, but not like a real book or anything! Fake writing! On the internet! Yes, just like your friend who posts pictures of her cats on Blogspot! Only not about cats. Wanna see a story I did in a publication you’ve never heard of, about a game you’ve never heard of?

So this weekend, Harold was a guest Big Apple Comic Con and I went along with him. We were barely inside when I was asked for directions to press registration.  Over the rest of the weekend, several guys at the con asked me which artists I was covering or who I was writing for. Even though I was really just there with Harold, I felt like a proper writer.

I’m going to assume it’s because I seem like such an awesome indie journalist, and not that my smalltalk skills resemble pre-story interrogation.

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Commute Photos

Lexington Ave Subway Sign

 

82nd Street Flowers

 

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Hufflepuffs and Sparkly Vampires

“Why do you hate Hufflepuffs so much?” Harold asked me a few days ago. Other recent conversations at work include the one where my boss calls me to come over immediately and then asks me whether Megatron is an Autobot or a Decepticon (Answer: Decepticon), and the one where I was asked which American Idol contestant I was rooting for, and when I didn’t have a proper answer, which contestants I’d heard of (Answer: 0). This is what happens when I’m at work every minute I’m awake.

But anyway, about Hufflepuffs. Hufflepuffs, I explained, don’t have enough personality to earn hate. They are the space-fillers of Hogwarts. They exist to make a fourth team for Quiddich tournaments. Hufflepuffs are good-hearted plodders, they fill seats in classes and offer straight lines to the actual characters. They study just hard enough to show that Ron’s a slacker but not hard enough to outdo Hermione. They’re the red-shirts, when you need a good guy to be kidnapped or killed to show just how dangerous the villain is.

“I don’t hate them,” I said, but  Harold still seemed skeptical.

“Let me put this in terms you’ll understand without reading the books,” I said. “The only Hufflepuff who’s really successful and gives the House any glory is Cedric Diggory. He’s the Quiddich captain — Quidditch is lame, by the way —  and he would have won the Tri-Wizard Tournament — which is awesome — but Voldemort — that’s the villain– kills him. And then after Cedric dies, he comes back in Twilight as a good-looking sparkly vampire. You see why no one likes Hufflepuff?”

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Droid Odyssey on Indie Game Mag

New review of Droid Odyssey up on Indie Game Mag:

I want the Droid app market to take off. I want there to be as many wild indie games for my Droid as for my friends’ iPhones, all organized into a market that’s easy to search. But I’ll settle for a dozen more games like Droid Odyssey.

Droid Odyssey is an adorable puzzle platformer from new indie devs Carbon Crystal Entertainment. Your goal is to guide your robot avatar through the level, whether that means avoiding obstacles or solving puzzles.

Players have a simple set of controls to manage their robot. Everything can be defeated using the left arrow, the right arrow, and a special robotic power to pick up or put down an item. Although it takes a little while to adjust to using the arrows as thrusters in flight, the controls never left me feeling the unresponsive frustration that plagues mobile touchcreen games.

 

Via Droid Odyssey on Indie Game Mag

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Secret Superpowers

My recent travels have taught me about real in-room wifi, and on this trip,  after my much-dreaded presentation, I alao learned that “close to the airport” is secret code for “on a highway between Hooters and a strip club.” My hotel was the textbook definition of dank and seedy, not actually unsafe, just filled with employees and guests who wanted to be anywhere but.

I’d asked the disinterested desk clerk about places to eat that weren’t Hooters, and was handed a menu for Chinese delivery.  Upstairs in my room, I called for delivery, but the person who answered didn’t speak much English. Or any English.

Deng e xia,” I said, “Ge wo…” My Mandarin ability was never much, and is a bit rusty, but I can definitely order the food I like!

So, I might not have room-working social skills or a bazillion dollars, but I’m pretty happy with the skills I’ve got.

 

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Not A Waitress Anymore (Part 4,573,574)

So I love last-minute travel, and I love my job, but it feels completely bizarre to me to be flying to another city for a meeting. And flight was delayed so long that I had to go straight from the airport to the presentation.

I want to say that I leapt off the plane, jumped into a taxi and told the driver my address and asked him to step on it, but actually, I stumbled around the airport, stiff-legged and bleary-eyed, looking for an exit to a taxi stand.

I was hungry and uncaffeinated, and kicking myself for thinking a two-hour flight would really be two hours.  I was not, of course, wearing my carefully coordinated hot-yet-smart outfit*, but a t-shirt and jeans best suited for airport reading. (Full disclosure requires me to tell you that the carefully planned outfit was, well, a slightly different jeans and t-shirt ensemble.) My phone’s been getting worse and worse at holding a charge, so I half-wondered if I’d be able to get the address or read my presentation, or make desperate calls for help before it entirely died.

The taxi driver asked me what brought me to town, so I told him.

“My boss sent me to this thing,” I said, “where I’m going to play the MMO I’m working on and talk about the future of women and gaming. And try to get a bazillion dollars.”

And then I laughed.

 

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You Are Almost There

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