Ear­lier this week I picked up the book Rogue Lead­ers: The Story of Lucasarts by Rob Smith. There’s an inter­est­ing his­tory that cap­ti­vated me from the get-go, pri­mar­ily because I’m a part of this fas­ci­nat­ing lineage.

Lucasarts & Quan­tum Link

Habitat coverLucasarts (then called Lucas­film Games) was founded by Peter Langston, a musician/game designer who hand-picked a group of young and eager game design­ers to cre­ate orig­i­nal game properties.

In 1985 Lucasarts was work­ing on a Com­modore 64 vir­tual com­mu­nity game (cou­pled with a 300-baud modem attach­ment) called Habi­tat.

In the game you were to cre­ate an “avatar” (yes, they coined the term in this con­text), pick­ing from a selec­tion of col­ors and clothes using the “GET” and “PUT” com­mands and then chat and inter­act with other peo­ple within a some­what graph­i­cal UI.

They part­nered with a com­pany called Quan­tum Link to pro­vide the on-line ser­vice com­po­nent and dis­trib­uted a beta test. How­ever, the game itself proved to be too pop­u­lar and their servers couldn’t han­dle the load, so it was can­celed never mak­ing it to retail.

Mean­while the tech­nol­ogy was sold to Fijitsu in 1989 and was later renamed Club Caribe.

Post­mortem

Lucasarts went on to cre­ate many orig­i­nal gam­ing prop­er­ties (suc­cess­ful adven­ture games like Maniac Man­sion, Grim Fan­dango and Day of the Ten­ta­cle) and Quan­tum Link even­tu­ally changed their name to Amer­ica Online.

The rest is history.

Addi­tional reading:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Habitat_(video_game)
http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/Quantum-Link
http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/Habitat-(video-game) 

Neatorama.com recently linked to an arti­cle by Pop­u­lar Mechan­ics about how Amer­i­cans are out of touch with prac­ti­cal DIY skills.

It would seem that many of us are los­ing the abil­ity to actu­ally per­form DIY skills such as chang­ing a tire, fix­ing the bath­tub or installing a ceil­ing fan and yes, some­times, chang­ing a light bulb.

The arti­cle quotes sci-fi author Robert A. Hein­lein as saying:

A human being should be able to change a dia­per, plan an inva­sion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a build­ing, write a son­net, bal­ance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, com­fort the dying, take orders, give orders, coöper­ate, act alone, solve equa­tions, ana­lyze a new prob­lem, pitch manure, pro­gram a com­puter, cook a tasty meal, fight effi­ciently, die gal­lantly. Spe­cial­iza­tion is for insects.

I’m not sure about you, but I can on a good day maybe task myself with one or two of the above (plan­ning an inva­sion and cook­ing a tasty meal if you’re curi­ous). Ask me to build a wall? I’d just point you in the direc­tion of a great masonry. Bal­ance accounts? Talk to my wife, the accoun­tant. Butcher a hog? Well, you get the picture.

Granted, Heinlein’s task list is ambi­tious. It’s like ask­ing a kinder­gart­ner to walk on stilts in the mid­dle of a sand­box. It prob­a­bly won’t hap­pen. The kid might be smart enough to call his friend, the cir­cus per­former, who will not only gladly put on the stilts but he’ll hold a fish­bowl as well. In this day and age, we’ve got con­tacts, pro­fes­sion­als, who will do these things for a whole lot or a whole lit­tle greenback.

That said, it would seem imprac­ti­cal or more tech­ni­cal DIY is on the rise. Just to name a few DIY resources: Make Mag­a­zine, Ready­made, Life­hacker, DIY Life, DIY Net­work and one of my favorites, Instructa­bles, just about any­one can learn how to build a solar-powered kite or super­power an appliance.

The ques­tion is then, has the DIY skill set atro­phied or has it evolved into some­thing else entirely? 

It’s no real secret to my fam­ily that out of every unsolved mystery/crime case in his­tory, the one that I’ve become qui­etly obsessed with over the years is that of the “Zodiac Killer”.

Which is why when the media recently reported of a man reveal­ing the actual Zodiac killer to be his step­fa­ther, let’s just say my inter­est finally peaked. To the point where I blew the dust off my mind’s shelv­ing of this obses­sion and now with this re-examining of the case I hope to file it away for good. Of course I said that the last time and if this trails off to nowhere I’ll be doing this again.

For those with­out any knowl­edge of the Zodiac case, the ora­cle of dig­i­tal insight and magic Wikipedia says this:

The Zodiac Killer is a ser­ial killer who oper­ated in North­ern Cal­i­for­nia in the late 1960s. His iden­tity remains unknown. The Zodiac coined his name in a series of taunt­ing let­ters he sent to the press. His let­ters included four cryp­tograms (or ciphers), three of which have yet to be solved.

Creepy? Check. Despite the fact it’s unsolved it still remains an open case, unlike the stock­pile of cold cases that may never see the light of day. As Hank Hill would say, “That ain’t right.”

I’ve even rented the movie, Zodiac, with Mark Ruf­falo and Robert Downey, Jr. just to reac­quaint myself with a fas­ci­nat­ing (and yes, mor­bid) crime with a deranged man respon­si­ble for sev­eral deaths send­ing let­ters and greet­ing cards to author­i­ties. It was all very Jack the Rip­per but in mod­ern times.

There’s also another thread to this that hits close to home. Her name was Cheri Jo Bates, a stu­dent at River­side Com­mu­nity Col­lege and a pur­ported vic­tim of the Zodiac killer. Even though he claimed to be respon­si­ble for the mur­der, River­side police were con­vinced his con­fes­sion to be false.

I believe my obses­sion with this case has more to do with the air of mys­tery sur­round­ing it rather than the gritty details, I’ll leave that to Hol­ly­wood and the media. Yet I do want to see it solved once and for all, if any­thing to pro­vide some resolve for the vic­tims and their families. 

To meet my cute quota for the month, there’s noth­ing bet­ter than a video with my 4-year-old, head strong, toe-headed daugh­ter named Zoe.

For the sake of actu­ally writ­ing some­thing and to exper­i­ment a bit with Flickr Video here’s a short clip of my daugh­ter, Zoe, prac­tic­ing sign lan­guage with her Aunt Erin (Nina). Bonus: My son shows up in the last few seconds.


 

It’s been sev­eral months since I’ve writ­ten on here, since August of last year in fact, which equals to roughly 5 years in Inter­net time.

What have I been up to since I last mashed my fin­gers across the key­board and pub­lished some­thing of worth? Well, I was offered and accepted a posi­tion with AOL/Weblogs, Inc. as a designer for their net­work of sites. My first thought was; they pay peo­ple to design blogs? It’s become more than a dream job for me and I couldn’t be more thank­ful for the friend­ships I’ve formed and lessons learned.

There’s that, on the job end of things, and as a far as my per­sonal life is con­cerned we’re plug­ging along quite nicely. My daugh­ter Zoe just turned 4. For those of you who’ve fol­lowed this site for the 4+ years I’ve been main­tain­ing it this is a huge mile­stone. My son, Quinn, is now 2 and between the two they man­age to keep us busy, thanks in part to how often they annoy each other. We are expect­ing another child as well so there are more adven­tures to look for­ward to.

Speak­ing of which, this site, my favorite pet project has become more stag­nant than ever. You could search the archives… oh wait, no you can’t because that’s yet to be fixed, but hey, if you could you’d find plenty of posts describ­ing some sort of post-mortem. Mov­ing on from here I’ve finally decided to use Expres­sion Engine to use as the engine of this site. One rea­son for set­tling on EE is because I’ve used it spar­ingly in the past for projects and the road map of fea­ture addi­tions & inter­face enhance­ments (as show­cased at SXSW08) looks pretty fantastic.

The other rea­son is I had din­ner with Michael Boyink, recent hire of Ellis Labs (the team behind EE), and through his own artic­u­la­tion and excite­ment I myself became utterly con­vinced this was for me. He’s also the man behind Train-EE which is both an incred­i­ble and infor­ma­tive resource on all that is Expres­sion Engine, oh, and he offers train­ing course ware on it. How cool is that?

It’s been awhile and I real­ize that and it both­ers me, but, it’s clear to me that the pro­gres­sion of this site is to become some­thing more than a blog, but also it needs to be fun again for me.

 

It was ten years ago when I first saw Harry Pot­ter and the Sorcerer’s Stone sit­ting on the shelf at Borders.

I dis­tinctly remem­ber the front cover illus­tra­tion, how col­or­ful it looked from afar and think­ing how geeky the boy on the cover looked with his round glasses and oddly-shaped scar. Yet, because it was a children’s book I fig­ured it wasn’t worth my time.

The Cho­sen One

I would’ve never guessed that not only would I read (and digest) every book in the series and watch every movie to date I would finally say good­bye to such a rich and imag­i­na­tive world and a char­ac­ter that, next to Mickey Mouse, is so well known around the world.

The road to under­stand­ing Harry Pot­ter wasn’t so smooth for me. It took some con­vinc­ing on the part of my best friend’s father, who in his late 40s fig­ured out some­thing that I could not; that children’s books are writ­ten for chil­dren but also meant to be enjoyed by adults.

Adult fic­tion can be stress­ful and com­pli­cated, tak­ing itself too seri­ously at times which is not to say children’s lit­er­a­ture doesn’t stray from com­pli­cated plots, it’s just writ­ten in a man­ner that even at its most basic level a child could understand.

If you think for a moment of the best children’s sto­ries turned to movie adap­ta­tions, sprin­kled in there will be films that prob­a­bly rate high on your all-time favorite list.

A few that come to my mind are:

  • The Wiz­ard of Oz by Frank L. Baum
  • Bambi by Felix Salten
  • Jumaji by Chris Van Allsburg

There are sev­eral oth­ers that have had such a pro­found impact on all of our lives and to think they all began as sto­ries intended for children.

Moral Align­ment

As for Harry Pot­ter, after hav­ing read the first book, I had a cul­ti­vated ini­tia­tive to fin­ish the series to the end. It was my goal and since I’ve reached it there are thoughts that have stayed with me through­out the course of the story.

Many of which deal with the fact that Harry doesn’t fit the mold for a hero. He isn’t bulky, doesn’t have strength beyond his wand and depends on the aide of others.

How­ever, he is the epit­ome of hope and strength to the wiz­ard­ing world, which shares par­al­lels with groups that in a his­tor­i­cal con­text have been sup­pressed in every cul­ture under the sun. While Harry never truly rec­og­nizes his impor­tance, he remains hum­ble and lov­ing and these are traits that ulti­mately keep him on the straight and nar­row, resilient to the evil that is always at bay.

This strug­gle between good and evil, right and wrong, deci­sions based on the protagonist’s moral stand­ing are com­mon threads shared by good lit­er­a­ture. Lit­er­a­ture that pulls you in, makes you feel sor­row and empa­thy and lays the ground­work for the ulti­mate showdown.

A World That Seems Real

While I con­sider myself a healthy reader there’s never been a series that has cap­ti­vated me as much as the Harry Pot­ter story has. I’m a lover of fan­tasy and while the Lord of the Rings books are grandiose, they can be dif­fi­cult to read because the lan­guage itself (explored in depth by Tolkien) is a char­ac­ter unto itself.

The enjoy­ment of read­ing Harry Pot­ter stems from the fact that Rowl­ing doesn’t take her­self too seri­ously and instead has fun with her mate­r­ial. I believe that beyond her shy per­sona is a woman who is witty and con­stantly imag­in­ing things as evi­denced in the books. She man­aged to make read­ing inter­est­ing again for chil­dren and that alone deserves attention.

There’s a lot to like about Harry Pot­ter and for that he’ll remain as real as other char­ac­ters in fic­tion have become. 

Lately I’ve been tak­ing after­noon walks to free my mind of cre­ative restraint or to just breath in the fresh air. It’s a change that I’ve wel­comed, even if my legs don’t always thank me for it.

Instead of just tak­ing in the sights around me I’m also begin­ning to lis­ten more, pay­ing close atten­tion to the sounds of nature and the par­tial con­ver­sa­tions I pick up on while on my walk.

Since we live in a vil­lage (with a pop­u­la­tion of less than 5,000), small talk car­ries itself through the walls of homes, in meet­ing hot spots like the park or the local super­mar­ket and you’re always bound to run into some­one you know.

It’s a lot like Cheers, where every­one knows your name or at least your fam­ily name.

On my most recent stroll through the vil­lage I noticed a fel­low stand­ing on the street cor­ner in front of a Mom & Pop diner. He looked about in his 50s, but with all of his hair still intact and I kid you not, his attire con­sisted of a tank top, shorts and dress shoes. He was yelling to a friend across the street, who non­cha­lantly con­tin­ued on his way until he noticed his loud companion.

They both laughed, one teas­ing the other and I moved on. You might see this kind of thing in every­day life, to you it might even be mun­dane or commonplace.

For some­one like me who has ten­dency to extrap­o­late the small stuff, which works to my ben­e­fit and some­times just the oppo­site, these kinds of occur­rences are impor­tant for a few reasons.

One, that life really is like a play and there are pat­terns that we all rec­og­nize and become used to. There’s no spe­cial for­mula to obser­va­tion, you either pay atten­tion to details or you don’t. I’ve been informed by peo­ple that small occur­rences in life like two guys meet­ing on the street aren’t worth remem­ber­ing or men­tally archiving.

Yet, life is an expe­ri­ence. It’s more than just a few months strung into years, it’s moments and mem­o­ries and every­thing else.

When some­one lets you know that their child stood up for the very first time, you might be inter­ested for a moment and then together your reac­tions don’t align. For the par­ent of the child, this is mon­u­men­tal, a mile­stone in the growth and devel­op­ment of their child.

To you, even if you might be related, that same feel­ing the par­ent had isn’t what you are feel­ing because it may not be as impor­tant. We’ve got to keep track of a lot of infor­ma­tion, this may not deserve a folder in the stor­age of our minds.

I might be a spe­cial case because I can selec­tively recall things/thoughts/occurrences that hap­pened years ago. Most of these moments in time would’ve been long for­got­ten by most, but I hang onto things that might have made a dif­fer­ence to me.

Even if that means not hav­ing the same emo­tional attach­ment as the per­son who deliv­ered the mes­sage or the guy yelling at his friend across the street, it’s some­thing I cherish.

The only down­side is my short-term mem­ory leaves some­thing to be desired. Recall­ing mem­o­ries from years ago is no prob­lem (in some cases), but there are times when I remind myself of some­thing and moments later the mem­ory or reminder only par­tially remains. 

Dri­ving home tonight after a deli­cious meal, my daugh­ter, spon­ta­neous as ever, looks up at me and in her best pirate expres­sion growls; “Arghh! I’m a pirate!”.

What fol­lowed was a con­ver­sa­tion between a three-year-old pirate, her par­rot Steve and me, her “Pirate Daddy”.

Zoe: Arggh! I’m a pirate. You are a pirate too.

Me: Avast, ye scurvy sea dog! Y’best walk the plank.

Zoe: Okay. Daddy, this plank is heavy. I can’t carry it.

Me: (laugh­ing) I said walk the plank, not carry it.

Zoe: I put it down here. That was so heavy, Pirate Daddy.

Me: Shiver me tim­bers! Where be your par­rot, Steve?

Zoe: He flewed away! In the sky. Argggh!

Me: Yar! Next time keep an eye on Steve. A pirate isn’t a pirate with­out his parrot.

Zoe: Hand me a map. We need to go there. (points) And where we’re there, we then go here.
 

There are a few things I’d like to accom­plish in my life before my time comes. Many of these will prob­a­bly never hap­pen while oth­ers have a greater chance of actu­ally being fulfilled.

It’s not mat­ter of when but how and using what for most, but for the sake of pos­ter­ity and for fun here they are:

Jamaican Bob­sled­ding

I’m not sure who to thank, Cool Run­nings or John Candy, but I’d love to rep­re­sent and make Jamaica proud by slid­ing down an icy slope with other strangers as crazy as me.

Be a Real­ity Tal­ent Show Judge

Just sit, nit­pick, joke, blink. Rinse & repeat.

Fin­ish Super Mario Bros.

Some­times I lay in bed at night, totally for­get about life’s other wor­ries (bills, squir­rels in attic, etc.) and dwell on the fact that I’ve never com­pletely fin­ished SMB.

Run for Office, Win and Quit

At least I’d have a bunch of lawn flags for souvenirs.

Trade a paper­clip for a stapler

It’s never hap­pened before. Never.

Learn “Rocket Science”

Next time some­one says, “This isn’t rocket sci­ence…”, I can reply; “Well, duh.” and then flash my street cred.

Swim along­side Whales

I have a real fear of deep ocean water. Pulling this off would be noth­ing short of a mir­a­cle, plus whales, how cool would that be?

Trade a sta­pler for gold popcorn

Solid. Gold. Popcorn.

Climb Mt. Fiji

Why? To bot­tle the best-tasting water myself.

Paint a Masterpiece

Sell said mas­ter­piece for $23 mil­lion, invest $13 mil­lion and use the rest to buy Blue Fla­vor.

Leap off a high ledge into a river filled with Jello

My lim­ited knowl­edge of basic physics tells me this might be a bad idea. (Note to self: Write the Myth­buster guys about this one.)

Color “out­side” the lines

I’ve never once in 20+ years been able to break this rule. It doesn’t seem right.

Sail on a Pirate Ship

Par­rot on shoul­der (must take AA bat­ter­ies), fake peg leg and a chest full of gold foil wrapped chocolate.

Build a Robot

Pro­gram it to say “Dis-assemble”, “Innn-put” and “Stephanie”. The last one he’d have to shout endlessly.

Learn Sign Language

For all the good rea­sons and so I won’t miss out on things, plus silent con­ver­sa­tion is nice.

Take the fam­ily to Europe

Expe­ri­ence cul­ture shock at its finest and for the sou­venirs of course. 

Moving boxes

After much delib­er­a­tion and tem­po­rary insan­ity I’ve moved this site to its new home at Medi­aTem­ple.

The neigh­bors here are pretty great. No cook­ies yet, but lawns are mowed, my mail­box is still stand­ing and I’ve since removed the Ram­boLux secu­rity sys­tem. I kept the guard dog how­ever so intrud­ers beware!

My mail car­rier is some friendly chap named Google. He’s help­ful but the guard dog keeps a watch­ful eye in his direction.

For the time being the grid is sta­ble and all my stuff is in order, save for a bro­ken Mint. That’s okay though, I’ll just fix that later because I’ve got other fish to fry.

With that, I’m all out of clichés and my back is a bit sore.

If you have any com­ments, just slide them under the door.

P.S. — Remod­el­ing is long over­due so please excuse any future mess.