I read something today that made me really, really sad, in that pitying way one gets sad when you see and know something great, and someone just fails utterly to observe it.  Jared sent me a link to a retrospective review of Planescape: Torment, and (while I’ll link to the article later when I get home) I read something in the comments to the article that made my heart break.

The comment went something along the lines of: “Even when it came out the game camera was very claustrophobic, and [in the process of the game engine's aging] it hasn’t gotten much better…” and then went on to suggest that a fan come up with a resolution “fix.”

I’ll let that sink in for a moment.

Ok.  You, sir, are an idiot.

No.  No.  You, sir, are an idiot.

Claustrophobia?  It’s the point.  It’s Sigil, for Chrissakes.  Imagine New York City on steroids and LSD.  It’s a tiny cramped space filled with every odd nick nack in the universe, jam packed with people trying ot scrape a living off of each other, places packed so tight with the effluvia of everyday (and supernatural…) life that a tiny closet is often used to house a family of three.

The visual depictions of Sigil in Torment?  Probably the most faithful reimagination that a video game could ever possibly achieve of a pen and paper setting!  Those vistas are beautiful, the way that the building protrude from nauseatingly sharp angles, bars and wires and powers know what else jut out from every surface, making you feel small and insignificant and lost in this chaotic maelstrom.

And the claustrophobia lightens up a lot once you get out of Sigil’s oppressive atmosphere.  Baator is a hellish, sweeping desert; the buildings in Curst are spaced out and as large as they should be; the Mazes (both the hag’s and the Nameless One’s)  and other dungeons are built more or less like the dungeons of other similar CRPGs…

Ugh.  Claustrophobia was the point, you moron.  To suggest you fix it is akin to asking someone to clearly put dimples on the Mona Lisa’s smile.

I’m not a man whose words easily fail him.

And yet I find tonight to be utterly incomprehensibly undescribable. Let’s just say it begins with a night of drinking with my old boss, and ends with a car ride where I’m hearing Taxicab Confession-like confessions from a drunk minor about her friend’s no-kissing rule.

Which, as I’m not going to go over everything that happened (I simply couldn’t, although I did start the night very much in my sort of journalistic mode,) just led me to the following three conclusions:

(1) I must hang out with Eddie far more often.
(2) I really, really, really need a girlfriend.

The two are relatively unrelated.

(Although, I must say, new receptionist? Very, very cute. I totally would’ve crushed on her.)

Oh, and (3) men do have a finer tuned douchebag-meter than women do. That’s all I’m saying.

I find it in equal parts interesting and entertaining how going back into my old (and I mean old) patterns has led to me reverting back into the kind of person I was six years ago.  It’s not a full reversion – I can’t shed the experiences I’ve had in the intervening time, for example, nor would I want to – but it’s like the creation of a hybrid: some of what was and some of what has become.

Recently, I bought a new pair of really nice sunglasses.  Really nice.  Like… color contrast polarized lenses, titanium frame nice.  I fell in love with them the second I lay them atop the bridge of my nose.  The sales person and I were looking through trying to find a proper fit and, while I had a couple I was considering, the second I put them on every want or desire for any other pair of sunglasses washed away, replaced by a resolution that these were the sunglasses I was going to buy.

Of course this is significant only in that I used to be known for wearing sunglasses more or less constantly.  (Yes, I wore my sunglasses at night.)  While I have yet to wear my (new) sunglasses past dawn, I’ve more or less been prone to slip them on whenever the opportunity reasonably presents itself. 

And it’s led to some minor attitude adjustments.  Adjustments which I find subconscious and refreshing.  But more and more am I likened to who I was, borrowing from the strengths I possessed then and merging them with the strengths I’ve picked up along the way.

For no reason other than I downloaded it this morning. 

My, my, my, it’s a beautiful world
I like swimming in the sea
I like to go out beyond the white breakers
Where a man can still be free -
Or a woman if you are one.
I like swimming in the sea.

My, my, my, it’s a beautiful world
I like drinking Irish tea
With a little bit of lapsang souchon
I like making my own tea.

My, my, my, it’s a beautiful world
I like driving in my car.
Roll the top down,
sometimes I travel quite far.
Drive to the ocean
and stare up at the stars
I like driving in my car.

All around is anger,
Automatic guns,
There’s death in large numbers,
No respect for women or our little ones.
I tried talking to Jesus
but He just put me on hold,
Said He’d been swamped by calls this week
and He could not shake His cold.

Still this emptiness persists
Perhaps this is as good as it gets
When you’ve given up the drink
And those nasty cigarettes?
Now leave the party early -
At least with no regrets.
I watch the sun as it comes up,
I watch it as it sets.
Yeah, this is as good as it gets.

My, my, my, it’s a beautiful world
I like sleeping with Marie.
She is one sexy girl,
Full of mystery.
She says she doesn’t love me,
She likes my company.
For now that’s good enough for me.

My, my, my, it’s a beautiful world
I like swimming in the sea.
I like to go out beyond the white breakers
Where a man can still be free -
Or a woman if you are one.
I like swimming in the sea.

-Colin Hay

This more or less speaks for itself.

From today’s XKCD.