thebitterguy

So I'm doing a word search puzzle here at work, and it's for Razzie Award winning actresses. And suddenly, I get this huge rush of "Whatever happened to Leave Brittney Alone guy?"*

Seriously, that was a hella potent piece of viral. Parodies (and parodies of parodies) and all the silly strange things. And didn't he get a tv gig out of it?

I wonder if he'll (yes, I don't remember his name, folks) do a fundraising video for something with the Tron guy, the sweater lady and the Peter Pan guy.

Or, you know, not.

*Because she won one, you see.

Well, Abe Vigoda's still alive as of half an hour ago, but Starlog is no more.

Starlog was one of my favourite periodicals in my youth. It, along with Ah! Caramelo!s were two things I always sought out at the corner shop where we'd wait for the feeder bus to take us home. It brought me constant joy to read Starlog, reading about books and tv shows and movies and comics (and occasional games).

There were always interesting articles to be found, too. They'd print interviews with scriptwriters and FX people in addition to performers and directors. They even published, with disturbing regularity, episode guides for all your favourite shows. I remember they did a Trek one written in character. Scotty had one that went "I dinnae remember a thing, Captain, I was droonk".

Good times. I haven't picked up an issue in decades (and that could, of course, explain much) , but I still have fond memories of it.

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You're Fucking Kidding, right? Seeming simplicity? You mean a "constant near paralyzing fear of nuclear annihilation"? You mean Two minutes to midnight? You mean DefCon 2? You mean hoping there's another Stanislave Petrov to save our fucking lives?

Seriously, this is retarded.

I would like to refer you all to read Gabe's article on punk rock and how it was driven by fear of nuclear annihilation.

So, as normal, the fact something is old reminded me of my own history. Monday’s article about the 20th anniversay of the Fighting Fantasy books made me realize that those books served a vital purpose in my youth.
I've been a gamer since I got a copy of the red box . Possibly before that, but nature and nurture and who wants to get into all that, right?

Anyway, being a small town gamer was not the best experience. Finding a group in a town of 5000 was always hard. Finding a group you could fit with was just as hard. I had two gaming groups during my time in Napanee, one of which met Thursdays from 1am to 5 am. Holy shit, btw. That didn't work because I was trying to work at the time.

The other was Dave's group, which showed me drama before I knew what drama was. The GM's nephew (a douche, btw) was in the game. Very hard guy to get along with. The GM's girlfriend started cheating on him with another player (in the Gm's apartment!), and I accidentally interrupted one of their dalliances by dropping by when Slimer (the gf's car) was at Dave's house (actual Bitter Guy thought: "Why is Kim so sweaty? And why is Greg doing up his belt?" Eh, I was young.)

So, yeah, the opportunity to play a game without having to deal with other people could be a very appealing thing. Remember, this was pre-WoW and MUX's (at least in small town Ontario). For the first few years of its existence, Holy Cross Secondary School shared a building with KCVI, Kingston Collegiate Vocational Institute (which was fancy Kingston talk for "high school"). This also entailed sharing a library. The librarian, Mr. Payne, was an okay guy. He would do clippings from the newspapers, and would cut out Bloom County for me (my parent's didn't subscribe to a paper that carried it yet).

The KCVI library, among its other treasures, had the Sorcery books in stock. I don't recall much, other than tearing through them like a bran muffin. I know (as well as I know anything that happened 20 years ago) that I probably cheated a few times to get to the end. I mean, that's how these things go, right? What person in their right mind is going to play one of these things, hit a dead end (or just die) and go "ah, well. Fun while it lasted!" You work your way back, and choose option B (or just skip the battle).

I also enjoyed the Way of the Tiger books, because they were about ninja and for a short period in the '80s we all forgot how dumb Ninja were. Curse you, Sho Kosugi and your bewitching ways!

The Way of the Tiger books had a hell of a downer ending, too. I recall thinking "there must be a sequel" but there was none. It also taught me the great lesson: if you give a character an 'ultimate weapon', they'll use it at every opportunity possible. Kwon's Flail, and unblockable ninja kick, was my best friend.

I’m trying to remember which gamebook included the Demagogue as an NPC to sway. I think it was the Tiger books, since the ninja PC ends up running a citystate at one point.

The Interplanetary Spy and the Time Machine books were both fun, too. They generally eschewed standard rpg content (stats, and skills and equipment) in favour of more stock characters, although you’d usually pick one piece of equipment that might help make your trip easier. And I think you got to be an actual superhero in one of the Interplanetary Spy books.

They were a good substitute for a good gaming group in the dry years. Now, of course, there are CRPGs and endless sessions of SMAC (Gaians 4 Ever!). But they definitely had their place in the history of gaming.

'80s Cartoon opennings.

Man, you know, Cringer was just huge, and did have the claws and fangs. Why was it such a pussy?

Oh, man. Did She Ra really have a winged horse?

Ohhhh. Inspector Gadget. CLASSIC.

Man, it takes some time to load. Full of fun for everyone (under 50, I suppose).

Sweet Jesus. Gilligan's Planet?

So, I got bored so I went back to the beginning of TBG and found this post about how I missed good winter gaming cons in Ontario.

I decided to do a search for Redcon, and found only this post from '95:

( REDCON 95 )

So the pre-reg was $10, which was pretty much a fundraiser for the RMC CSG and KWA, since I'm pretty sure as like every university group, they got the space for free. That was the con where Sam Lewis told me about the origin of Renegade Legion (it was FASA's submission for a Star Wars game system, which I've just edited Renegade Legion's Wikipedia entry to reflect! Two W&N points!). And I got to play Margaret Weis's Star of the Guardians game.

I also played the shittiest Star Wars game ever, which was the first time I ever walked out of a con game.

I will reiterate that Yeo Hall is the best venue in the world to run a gaming con in. I miss it.

You know, it's odd, but the phrase "the Golden Age of SF is 12" is one I really like because, against all odds, I have fond memories of my childhood. ( Just standard geek nostalgia )

Cynra & I took Supercar up to Stouffville yesterday for the wedding of my old J-School buddy Wes. Wes & I go back a while (I observe that he is one of the people I have known the longest I am still in semi-regular contact with).

Anyway, he too has hitched his wagon to the Educator wagon pulling device.

So, we're sitting in church (having arrived literally just on time; we nearly tripped over the bride) when we noticed a familiar face at the front of the room. Who IS that? I pondered. They looked familiar, but at the same time very different.

Then it hit me. He wasn't wearing a Dr. Who costume. It was Andrew, who'd been a regular participant in the masquerades at PRIMEDIA. I wonder what he's doing here?
Then it hit me again (and, really, by this point it was starting to sting). He had the same last name as Wes's bride. Pure co-incidence, Cynra & I averred.

Nope. After the ceremony and a nice country drive (which kicked my allergies into high gear, probably allowing the cold my white blood cells had been having Bat'leth duels with for the past week to score a point for the win) we headed to the reception. And discovered that NOT ONLY was Andrew now Wes's brother in law, but Wes's wife had accompanied him to the convention one year, and did Scully in the masquerade as well. And I think I recognize her, too.

Small world.

The reception went well (although it appears they went Scottish instead of Italian, if you get my drift). We were seated at table Loch Ness. I was too ground down to particpate in the festivities to the full extent, but all went well.

This here reminds me of something from a long time ago.

(Oh, Christ, Bitter Guy, I can hear you saying, not another fucking nostalgia fest?!? Well, yes. Your mouse has a little rolly thingy on it, right?)

Back in the Ottawa days (Jesus, I know like four people from back then. Gary, Wes, Brad and the theoretical Gabe; and Big T, of course, but I met her there, really; didn't know her there. No, no, trust me. It all makes sense. When you meet someone is not when you know them, or vice versa), there was a store. It was called Savanna DeVilles. It sold a variety of merchandise for the goth and punks among us.

It was run by Linda. Linda Secasspina. Linda was cool. Early middle aged mother, she used to run a store called Flash Cadillac that sold couture reproductions. She was a whiz with a needle & thread (to be honest, I think she and Laurie could be Seperated At Birth). She had a signed photo of the Ramones that said "thanks for the spaghetti!" because she'd made them spaghetti at a show they did in Ottawa once. Just a cool lady.

And, and here's the relevance, she took care of the kids. Ottawa, a grey haven of icy beuraucratia, was not a city that embraced 'different' youth. Her clientele were not terribly well heeled, and did not seem to be suburban youth downtown. They all were very much the almost stereotypical urban primitives, huddling masses of yearnings for freedom and peace, if not acceptance. Some were from broken homes, some had no homes at all.

But she loved them all; she'd give them an ear or a shoulder, and bus fare home, or a few bucks out of the till to get a sandwich. She treated them as well as she did her own kids.

Now, I don't know how good a businesswoman she was (well, the store DID close down), but she was a good person. The last I heard from her, she'd retreated to her family home in Carlton Place to watch Showgirls and sexually harass whatever workmen her husband had in to fix the place up.

Steve Forester died last week. He was my Journalism professor.

I'm torn about this. Because he was taken at 53, the same age as my father's cousin who died last week, and that is fairly young, and because he died of liver/bowel cancer, which is a fairly unpleasant way to die, I would like to miss him.

But we really never got along, he & I. And by that, I mean that by the time I left J-School I pretty much hated him. I don't have the urge to piss on his grave, as I do some other people I've known, but I feel less than the burning upset at his departure that I would most other people who've touched my life in one way or another. Even the magazine writing prof who told me to shut the fuck up on the first day of class I've got fonder memories of than Steve.

Eh. We move apart, I guess.

In less sombre news, preperations for GenCon are proceding. It looks like mr_weasel and I will be driving down with a friend.

Road Trip!