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First things first, that cool row loading thing that I talked up yesterday, well, it works now. Unfortunately for you dear reader (*scoff*) it went off without too much of a struggle, so I don’t seem to have a colorfully worded story to go with that.
Actually check that, I’ll make one up. Assume that none of the following things are true.

So I was sitting around my house watching The Life Aquatic when suddenly, the President of Mexico runs into my house. Frantic and sweating he pleads in surprisingly good English to help him. Apparently kidnappers are after him, like in Man On Fire, except these kidnappers (presidentnappers?) are also members of Al-Quaida. Big ones, since they have mug shots on those stupid novelty playing cards that were all the rage years ago when anybody gave a deuce.
Seeing that he’s in trouble, I throw on my flippy floppies, turn in that slow way that both action heroes and strippers use to great effect, and say while tightening my bandanna, “Mr. President, come with me if you want to live. Afterwards, you can buy me taquitos.”
I then flip up my couch revealing my giant hidden cache of heavy weapons and samurai swords. Naturally, I pick Daisy, my samurai sword with a machine gun in it. Oh, you see those all the time, so I won’t bother you with the details of how it works or looks. Just know that it’s not just the coolest weapon ever, but quite possibly the coolest object in the History of Stuff.
So out into the street I ran, flippy floppies making that great flip and the occasional flop noise. Of course, I didn’t really hear to much since Daisy was busy turning terrorist kidnapper card Texas style Hold’em into a game of 52 card pickup. Except with blood, and awesome Wes Carpenter synth music, like what Snake Plisken kills to.
Soon, I find myself standing atop a heap of the misguided and the Lost, holding a smoking Daisy. Somehow a half naked woman appeared and kneels at my feet. It’s very metal. All of the sudden, one of the terrorist kidnappers reaches up with his last breath and only working limb to shoot me, treacherously.
The President of Mexico looks on and I bleed out, and says, “Thank you for saving me! You are a national hero.” Or something like that. I wasn’t really paying attention, cause getting shot hurts like crap man.
When I awoke, I was in a dark place, surrounded by stone walls. Ramones flavoured Muzak was piped in from hidden speakers on the walls. Then, as if by some kind of magic, a Man in Black appeared.
“Am I in Space?” I ask.
“Nope,” he replies. “I’ve just found that a black suit is more appropriate than a cloak. I could change.”
“Nah,” I reply casually, “It works. So, like do I get a challenge or something?”
“Shit. I hate The Seventh Seal. I hate it so hard. Do you have any idea how hard it is playing Twister in a robe?”
“That would explain the suit.”
“Alright,” he says, checking his watch. Oddly, it’s digital; One of those cheap ones you can get at the fair. “I’ve got time. Well, more than you anyway. What’ll it be?”
“Programming. I don’t know if you read my blog, but I’m fuggin Li Mu Bai.”
“First of all, nobody reads that self indulgent crap. Second, programming isn’t a game.”
“Deal with it. My choice, my mortality.”
“Fine,” he replies, and summons up a couple of computers. Death it seems, owns an iTablet. I always pegged him as a Linux man myself. In any event, he gets to coding on it and I get to coding on my laptop. When Death codes it looks like Matrix rain, except as done by emo kids, so it’s all full of AFI logos and skelanimals. The ground shakes with his mighty coding prowess, probably like when John Carmack codes.
Soon he’s done and holds up his design. He says, “I read your blog thing. Crap man, does everything need that much text? I mean, seriously you write twenty lines of code sometimes and then crank out 1000 words of soliloquy and self fellating nothingness. Anywho, I got your stupid text file reader thing to finally work. You’re welcome. Now give me your soul.”
I reply, “I but you haven’t seen what I did.”
“Fine,” he sighs, “what dumbassed thing did you code?”
“I coded a way for Daisy to be remote controlled.”
“Eh?” was the last thing he said before Daisy did that machine gun katana thing that it does so well. Again, we’ve all seen exactly what a remote controlled/AI katana machine gun does to a incarnation of mortality, so I’ll spare the mundane details. Afterwards I stepped over the still warmish meats and copied Death’s code to my flash drive.
I then left Death’s domain and took the bus home.

-In something completely different. I’ve discovered IndieCade, another Independent game show. It has a deadline of the first of June, which gives me like 2 months to get a project done. I’d like to say I can have Thief done, but without steady animators, that’s going to be kind of a trick. So unless I can think of something, I’m going to try to get Paper Zeppelin into a playable state for the event. The really cute thing about IndieCade, is that if you are in the final group, then they show your game at E3. I’ll repeat that for emphasis. They have your game in their booth at E fuckin 3.
I’m of the mind that borders on the incredibly cool. I’ll see what I can do with it.

– This post, is just a little weird. You see, I started writing it about 5 days ago, and never got around to posting it up. I could go into the specific details, but I won’t bother here, because nobody cares and I certainly won’t in few months when I get back to reading it. What I did do was write a different post, that I titled Call Me Ishmael, but that one will probably never see the light of day. Just know that it was full to the brim with self loathing and defiance in almost equal measure.
What is of note is the IndieCade thing I wrote right above. Even though I wrote it, and I fully intend(ed) to do that, I’m no longer sure if I’m in a position where it would even be possible. My hours suddenly taken up by far more pressing matters, mostly involving starvation and/or homelessness.
So before I get back to doing any kind of hard core (or even soft core for that matter) coding, I need to get something else that’s not even tangentially related covered and working. Sooner, rather than later.

This is my serious face.


Patience is just another word for getting old.