I just heard from Orin of I Heart Chaos (NSFW) that the Awesome Street sign was stolen! Cary has now become less awesome.
PS I’m in New Jersey this week, I have an alibi!

I just heard from Orin of I Heart Chaos (NSFW) that the Awesome Street sign was stolen! Cary has now become less awesome.
PS I’m in New Jersey this week, I have an alibi!

I’ve been playing Lost in Blue 2 on the DS for a while now, and while I always love games about island survival, like MyTribe, Sims 2: Castaway, etc., there’s a lot of room for improvement in Lost in Blue.
Cool minigames make use of the the DS’s capabilities, but the hundredth time you have to light a fire, it stops being fun. The same can be said for cooking, fishing, catching animals, and every other repetitive action. I’m a big fan of Cooking Mama 2, but this is no Cooking Mama. Also, the actions you need to perform repeatedly are hidden in sub-menus or are only available after a chain of choices, instead of being accessible, one-click actions.
The story begins as two high-schoolers are washed up on a beach after a shipwreck. Players can choose Jack or Amy as their primary character, but they are responsible for the survival of both. I choose Amy, and before I complain any more, I should mention how much I enjoyed playing a sweet teenager protagonist, a girl with a cute haircut and school clothes (did I mention how not-pink they were?), neatly pretty without defaulting to videogame sexy.
Jack, Amy’s companion on the island, is not the brightest bulb in the box. You need to feed him, making him more like a rather dim pet than a boyfriend. (If you choose to play as Jack, Amy becomes similarly dull-witted.) Every time he gets hungry, you need to let go of his hand (one click), target Jack (varies), select Talk (one click), tell him you have something for him (one click), wait for him to ask what it is, tell him it’s something to eat (one click), wait for him to ask what he’s eating, and then select the item from your backpack to feed him (varies, but you select, choose ‘give’ and confirm), he says it’s delicious (one click to confirm). Early items, like raspberries and coconuts, fill his meter between 3 and 5 percent, out of a possible hundred percent, so even if he doesn’t perform any physical labor — like a million walks to the stream to quench his inexhaustible thirst — which makes the hunger meter empty faster, you’ll need to do this series of actions between 20 and 33 times in a day to get him full.
Also, items must be fed from Amy’s backpack to Jack. You cannot feed him items that he’s carrying, and he will literally die of starvation with a backpack full of lunchboxes and fruit. To exchange items between backpack, you need to let go of his hand (one click), target Jack (varies), select Talk (one click), tell him you have something for him (one click), wait for him to ask what it is, select give (one click), wait for him to ask what you’re giving him, and then exchange items between the backpacks. So. Not. Fun.
A lot of the game involves learning about the island, for better or for worse. Discovering new environments is inherently rewarding, and the combination of exotic jungle life and retro platformer right angles was charming. Sweet animations, which Amy looks down over a steep cliff or when she looks over her shoulder to make sure Jack has jumped across the stepping-stones safely, make exploring ever better, although, like everything else in the game, what’s fun the first time is annoying the twentieth time.
Much of the game is based on discovery, but unfortunately the rate of success is skewed so that I felt like I was always thwarted by doing things at the wrong time, in the wrong order. I could solve this by printing out a map, or recipes, or a fishing timetable, but that feels a lot like getting a walkthrough. I’ve used internet hint when I’ve gotten stuck (That would be every puzzle that requires me to distinguish between musical notes…), but I don’t like playing game that require a strategy guide hints to complete.
Certain events trigger cutscene stories, which advance the story but cause their own frustrations. At one point, the characters took themselves home and slept, waking up nearly dead of hunger and thirst. Another story had Jack disappearing, unfortunately with our food in his backpack. While Jack was away, Amy refused to go away from the cave-home to collect food or water because she was waiting for Jack. Another time, Amy wouldn’t go in the cave to cook… You get the picture. This is horribly flawed — a cutscene should not be able to kill me. I was unable to enjoy the stories because I was afraid they would go on too long and Jack and Amy would die of hunger and thirst while they talked about making ropes. (I also disliked the cutscenes because the story seems to be leading to a romance between the two characters, but I like to think that Amy has standards, even if Jack is literally the only guy around!)
I’m having trouble summing up because I can’t recommend that others buy it or even rent it because it’s so flawed in so many ways… but at the same time, although I do turn it off in frustration, I put the game down for later instead of selling it back. Even when I’m frustrated with tools that keep breaking and bored of running to the spring to slake our unquenchable thirst, I keep picking it back up to play a few more days trapped on an island with my dimwit boyfriend.I can’t explain it — I think I have a dysfunctional relationship with Lost in Blue 2.
I’m in my hometown in New Jersey for a week, helping with Vacation Bible School at my dad’s church. I’ve gotten some surprised looks from different clients and co-workers when I said I’ll be out of town because I’m going to help my pastor father with church camp. At one of my more irreverent workplaces, I could almost see the mental wheels turning as the team tried to remember if they’d told any religious jokes around me. Sometime I should post about becoming a PK in my early twenties, and by “PK,” I actually meant Preacher’s Kid and not Player Killer.
PK is a new role for me, but teaching kids isn’t. Today I was helping the kids at camp with their art projects, which mostly means keeping glue away from clothing and breaking up disputes over the purple marker, when a little boy called me over to help him with the picture he was making.
“Miss Meg!” he asked, sure that I would be able to help him, “How do you spell alien anti-gravity controller?”
Edit 8/16: My dad asked me if this post was true, and I assured him that it was, but in the interest of complete factual accuracy, I should point out that the art project actually says alien-controlled gravity controller.
“And how are your plants doing? Are they still alive?” my mom asked on the phone the other night.
“Yes!”
“Meg, that’s great!”
“You didn’t have to sound quite so surprised, Mom.”

We drove by this house on Maynard today. I’m just guessing here but I think someone’s unhappy.
Edit 8/6: Hi to everyone who’s finding my blog by googling for “screwed by the town of Cary!” I snapped this just because I loved the sloppy neon orange protest, you can practically hear the local Homeowners’ Association gasping in shock and preparing to draft a strongly worded complaint letter. The full News&Observer story is here.
Other local area attractions include Awesome Street, the last guy with an angry sign, and my plants that aren’t dead yet.
Stick and I went to Play! A Videogame Symphony at the Koka Booth Amphitheatre a few weekends ago. We joined the crazy quilt of blankets, over a carpet of drying pine needles, and unpacked our cheese, olives, Nintendo DS, and those mini wine bottles I keep calling chardonnay shots. We must have been flying the nerd flag, because a fellow passing out flyers for a gaming and music fest in DC in a few months, came right to us. And after telling him no thanks, we realized we might actually be in DC in a few months!
Once it got dark, the performance began. The conductor opened by asking everyone to feel free to clap and cheer if they felt moved to do so, and everyone did. I was so impressed with the range of games chosen, with the wild shift from metallic beeps to symphony, and with the music in general.
Sometimes when I’ve lived abroad, I’ve had moments of glowing amazement that I was really in that place. This is me, walking across the St. Catherine’s quad to go to a lecture in Cambridge, I remember thinking, or this is me, on the Great Wall of China. I’m always amazed to find myself actually at place I recognize from books, walking in the steps of history. (Yes, it’s true, my self-centeredness knows no bounds.) it’s best when I’m traveling, of course, but even in Amherst, I would sometimes be amazed by real New England fall leaves! Just like in books!
In this past almost-year in North Carolina, I haven’t felt like that at all. Probably because it’s hard to feel any connection with the past in the brand-new sameness of Cary. It’s hard to feel amazement and wonder that I’m driving on a highway.
But finally, lying on the blanket looking up at the tall, skinny Carolina pines, and listening to the swell of the symphony and the applause, I felt amazed that I live here. This is it. The Carolina pines, the endless Southern twilight. Just like in books! With the cheering nerd-crowd as an added bonus. I sighed with total contentment.
“I think I felt a raindrop,” Stick said.
The other part of Southern summers in books are the surprise, torrential thundershowers. Within moments, we were drenched. We tried to tough it out long enough to hear World Of WarCraft: Stormwind, but soaked jeans are not fun and we joined the mob running for the parking lot.
The number 33 bus takes you right to Port Authority. Trust me, Montclair is the knees. We have Globe Trotter Antiques. We have the Wellmont Theater. Silent movies with organ. The Montclair Art Gallery. George Inness. Have you heard of him?
Paul Kinsey, describing the attractions of 1962 Montclair in Mad Men, season 2.
Last night we went to Awesome Street for a party. I was a little nervous since I didn’t know anyone, but that dissipated when we arrived and saw a couple of backdoor smokers, wearing white fuzzy bunny ears.
“If I’d known,” Stick said. “I could have worn my Hugh Hefner smoking jacket,”
Although Stick and I found Awesome Street endlessly hilarious (“There’s no room for the car here! We’ll have to park over on Mediocre Street!”), some of the other guests told us that the town of Cary was less than thrilled with creativity cutting into their cutesy themed-named subdivisions, and the Awesome Street residents had to apply several times to get the name approved. We also learned that Awesome Street beat out runner-up names Floppy Drive and Hard Drive.
“Yeah, sometimes I’m working and I see people pull up and take photos of the street sign!” one guy told me.
“That was me.” I said.
I’m of the school of thought that social gatherings require me to put on lip gloss and bring a six pack (see also: ways in which I will never fully leave college), and I was totally impressed with this one’s Sno-Cone maker, margarita machine, and all kinds of toys. What really set it apart from our last our last Playboy-themed office party, though, was Mama Hoffmann’s twin circling and insisting that we all eat! More! Have another one! Do you want something else? Eat! You should eat more! Have another one!
It was a nice crowd, and we talked about the joys of Bosphorus, Unaabi Grill, and how Cary, for all its soulless sameness, really does have great food. I met a lot of — can’t resist it any longer– awesome people. (If you were at the Awesome party, and I was not swift enough to trade contact info with you, I would love to get in touch!)
Later on, I met a girl who — and I could not make this up — was an element bridesmaid for her best friend’s pagan wedding. (She was Earth, but when I was in Allison’s wedding, I was Air) The former-element-bridesmaid and her now-husband decided to get married at the courthouse. I am not saying those two facts are connected, of course, just mentioning two things I learned last night.
“So, how do you know the Intelliscanner crew?” another girl asked me.
“I drove past one day and I got out to take a picture.” I said.
“Oh. Oh! I thought you were kidding about that.”
“I got this cucumber seedling and this watermelon seedling because they were on sale,” I told Stick, “60% off! It’s like a little prize for ignoring proper growing seasons! Not like we’d know when to plant them anyway!”
“Good thing, too, because we wouldn’t have room for a full-sized watermelon on the balcony,” Stick pointed out. We surveyed our not-yet-dead potted plants with pride. His favorite is the dill, he likes to go out and say dillweed and laugh while he’s watering the plants. My favorites are the new watermelon, xi gua, and the cucumber, huang gua, because I like to practice my Chinese and my plants don’t make fun of my tones.
“We’re doing so well with these, we haven’t killed anything at all!” Stick said. “We can start with taking care of plants and work slowly up to taking care of children. After a few months, we can try getting a gerbil.”
“Whoa! You don’t just jump right from plants to mammals! That’s a lot of pressure!”
“A goldfish?”
“I don’t know if a person who buys a watermelon plant in a dixie cup should be responsible for a vertebrate.”