Thursday, October 7, 2010

I should probably stop playing Halo: Reach

I Should Probably Stop Playing Halo: Reach

I, Daniel Burton Silver, am a space nerd, and I’m perfectly comfortable with this fact. See, I’ve been a space nerd for as long as I can remember. Hell, my mom used to shower me with all toys Star Wars in nature. I wanted to be a Jedi as soon as I could pronounce the word. Growing up, I could pretty much recite all three movies from the Holy Trilogy, and later on never missed an episode of Next Generation. At about age ten, I went to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum with the focus of seeing the Star Trek exhibit. It’s still a memory that I carry fondly with me to this day.

As the teen years came, I included headier stuff in my obsession. It started by seeing 2001… then 2010. Accordingly, I had to read the books by Arthur C. Clarke. Then I had to read Stephen Hawking’s first book to try and figure out what the hell this cold, infinite void actually was and where it came from. My interest in science fiction novels piqued thereafter. I digested probably about twenty Star Wars books during classes in high school rather than pay attention to the teachers. I owned every Alien movie on a VHS box set. I dreamed of having a giant telescope.

To date, I’ve spent countless hours of my life gazing up at the stars on clear nights. I’ve toured the world’s premier observatory complex. I regularly read news stories about space, read novels about space, scour the Internet for scientific advances about space, buy comics set in space, watch television shows and movies set in space, and play video games in which I get to shoot, you guessed it, things in space.

This brings us to the Halo games. I love them. I have loved every one of them since the first one was released on the first Xbox. In late September, Halo: Reach was released, and if any of you had been wondering where the hell I was and when the hell I was going to update my website, you can blame the good people at Bungie for making such a highly-entertaining time-sucker. I have been busy blasting the Covenant from here to kingdom come.

The Halo games genuinely make me feel like I have accomplished something. I recognize how supremely pathetic this is, and how little vagina I will probably see from this moment forward after saying this, but I cannot help it. Playing a Halo game makes the gamer feel like a badass, like what he or she is doing matters and isn’t just some mindless pursuit or sport.

Granted, and I want this to be clear, I am talking about the various games’ campaigns only. I speak solely of the one-player story modes. Halo has a dark side: the online multiplayer side. Just like in any other multiplayer online shooting game, the young and old virginal stoners, jackoffs and buttwipes of the world have complete domain and control over the online atmosphere, thereby making it only enjoyable if one is really, really drunk or really, really in the mood to be called by a twelve year old boy who is probably a Mormon living in Salt Lake City a “faggot cocksucker.”

Unfortunately, there is no likely end in sight to the online douchebaggery I speak of. Weed is probably going to be legal soon in my home state, which means video game sales in California are going to skyrocket like Boeing’s stock if they invent a faster-than-light mining ship. I can only hope that in a hundred years or so, generations down the road, Microsoft makes some sort of computer software that eliminates all obnoxious marijuana-related video gamer tags – like “420RulzDude” or the like.

But I digress, as I usually do. Back on topic: I love space. Accordingly, and like Dr. Hawking theorizes, I believe in extra-terrestrial life. I think it’s rather obvious that mathematically it makes no sense at all to think that humanity is the only intelligent life in the universe. One need only read about a paragraph or so of relevant scientific literature to realize that the universe is so colossally gigantic that there’s no chance in hell we, rampant fans of the Jersey Shore and Spongebob, are the most evolved creatures out there. From a spiritual standpoint, I offer this argument: if you were The Almighty, would you really stop making beings after us, the same group of mammals that brought you Donald Trump’s hair and the fourth Indiana Jones film?

So one would accordingly believe, as space is such a vast frontier of exploration and discovery, and considering the multi-media popularity of aliens and space, the recent news story about the retired Air Force personnel who held the press conference about the fact that our world’s governments are keeping secret documented encounters with UFOs would be pretty hot news. I mean, surely the X-Files ran for like ten seasons, so there have to be at least some people out there who care, right? Wouldn’t such a revelation have implications intrinsic in it that would make the human race question why we kill one another over our religious prophets, and slightly less focused on the percentage of income tax we pay or if gay people can get married? Wouldn’t the idea of extraterrestrial visitors cause a ripple effect and force us to ponder what our response is going to be when they show up if they aren’t too keen on us, if keeping toenail clippers off international flights really is the best we can do safety wise, and make us realize that things could either go really well or really, really badly at first contact?

No.

That story came and went. These old men were immediately dismissed. The truth is out there, and sorry grandpa, we don’t give two farts. I mean, look at how serious this news broadcast took you fools! We don’t have time for your conspiracy theories. We have Glen Beck to follow, Lindsay Lohan to laugh at, and Halo: Reach to play to make us feel empowered in the little caves of sand that we shove our heads into.





Http://theartofdansilver.com/haloreach.html

http://theartofdansilver.com/haloreach_files/image001.jpg

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Comic Con 2007: The Recap

http://www.theartofdansilver.com/comiccon07.html


1. The panel. All the voice actors and most of the production staff were present. The actors read a comic in character, which explained what happened to Futurama (assholes at Fox canceled it), and how it was revived by fans. Highlight: Sam and I cut in line, and nobody dared say shit. Ah, hand tattoos and whiskey, thy name is audacity.


2. I shared an elevator with Aaron Douglas! (He plays Chief Tyrol on BSG.) I played it totally cool… until we got to the lobby when I said, “You’re my favorite person on earth.” He looked surprised, and answered, “Thanks.” I felt gaytarded.


3. I woke Sam up with the best wedgie I’ve ever given. He was in a dead, dreaming sleep. His scream, upon feeling the razor-sharp cotton in his ass, was both bloodcurdling and the best thing ever.


4. When the family in the neighboring room confronted us in the hallway – they were interrogating us to figure out why we were making so much noise at night, in an effort to have us cease doing so – Adam told them we were gay. His plan, so it turned out, was to give us a civil rights angle should the hotel try and evict us.

5. The following evening, during our nightly shenanigans, we heard a knock on the door. It was security. As Brett was clad only in his underwear, he placed on his respectable pair of Misfits shorts and opened the door. What followed was the most awkward attempt by a hotel security guard to interact with a stone wall that I’d ever witnessed. At the end of his informational “we’ve had multiple complaints about the noise” speech, followed by a long pause, he finished with: “I’m gonna go now.”

6. Sam met the room service guy in his underpants… in the hallway.

7. When we finally let the housekeeper in, she expressed a look of absolute horror and asked, “What do you want me to do with all this?”

8. The replicants loved me.



9. I met comic artist and writer Christian Gossett, of The Red Star, at the Red Star booth. Autographed merchandise followed to the tune of $100.00. I nerded-out hard.

10. Later, I saw Christian Gossett locked out of his hotel room and screaming up to his roommates for entry.

11. Adam fell in the pool when looking at a girl. His full, complete explanation for the event was as follows: “I’d had a few beers and she had a big ass.”

12. While receiving a wedgie, I somehow managed to maneuver myself into a full handstand. Adam, who was the judge of Brett and Sam’s performance, gave them a 9.6. The Russian judge was not so kind.

13. The same gay leather-daddy guy kept cruising Brett… HARD. His name, so he said, was Paul. He was from Portland. He liked Brett’s mustache quite a bit. “Paul from Portland” became our primary mascot. We’re all pretty sure Brett blew him.

14. Brett hung out with Will Wheaton in line to see Joss Whedon. That’s a crazy dork-paradox.

15. We kept seeing Ernie Hudson everywhere.

16. Brett saw Stan Lee. Adam saw Stan Lee hanging out with Oliver Stone.

17. Just after he fell in the pool, Adam attempted to approach Stan Lee to get his autograph, but was immediately chased away by Oliver Stone’s security. The world was saddened, as what could have been the most hilarious attempt by a drunken, sopping wet moron to get an autograph on a wet napkin… ever… did not happen.

18. Brett - who managed to hit the gym every hung-over morning - told me he was quitting beer to get back down to his fighting weight. I said, “That’s probably a good place to start.” Then I went to grab another Bud. Brett said, “Toss me one of those, wouldja?” I did. I then asked him, “Um, so, that ‘no beer’ thing was bullshit?” He explained, “I meant later.”

19. Drinking in the morning, afternoon and evening. Then, in the morning again.

20. Brett and Sam went down to TJ. Sam got offered sensual massage, Viagra and Oxycontin tablets. Brett, however, was offered dental work.

21. It’s all on film… kinda.

The Top Five Reasons You Shouldn’t Get a Tattoo

1. You have a job.

Nobody will ever hire anybody with a tattoo… ever… in any career… in any era. Bosses don’t like them and neither do customers. And don’t tell me that you can cover your inked bits with clothing. People will just know. They’ll smell it on you like that terrible cologne you wore to prom.

If you get a tattoo, you will be doomed to a life of living on welfare and/or committing crimes in order to survive. You may get lucky and learn that you have great burglary skills, which will preclude you from having to demean yourself too terribly. Or, you may wind up giving handies outside Micky D’s for a number three with a large Coke (no super-sizing) at around noon… every… single… day.

The true irony: the same tattoo that forced you to commit crimes in the first place will be your downfall when the police obtain the surveillance video. You thought you were so clever when you wore that mask, huh?

2. You are indecisive.

We all know about that moment of pseudo-homosexual awkwardness that you had during puberty in which you wondered if you may have liked members of the same sex. We also know about how you flip-flopped back and forth about your major (e.g.: Communications or business? Damn you, overstuffed course catalog!) during college. And, please, we all remember that Che Guevara T-shirt wearing phase; fast forward three years and you’re advocating the flat tax. Remember?

Don’t even get me started on that time when you wanted to either get a motorcycle or learn to play the drums. How on earth are those things even remotely related?

Because we know you so well, it’s clear that you don’t possess the necessary decision making skills to choose an image to have permanently inserted into your skin with a needle. I mean, you could get your dead relative’s initials in Japanese characters. But, then again, maybe you should get a little shark or dolphin on you ankle. It’s just such a huge choice. Don’t bother. Play it safely.

3. You will get old.

Yep, old and leathery and wrinkly as hell. And, when you’re a has-been, ancient fart, you’re gonna look pretty damn silly with a portion of your skin that’s a different color than the rest. Old people are supposed to look like old people. They are supposed to watch Bob Barker and his phallic microphone on tiny televisions with bizarre magnifying contraptions in front of them. They are supposed to eat soft foods, drive terribly in big-ass American cars and poop their pants at random intervals. Having an anchor on one’s arm or a panther on one’s back totally makes any of that stuff impossible.

Also, grandchildren are instinctually programmed to sever the Achilles tendons of their grandparents with steak knives at the mere sight of abnormal dermal discolorations. Seriously, it’s scientific fact.

Hide the liver spots, Gramps.

4. Your parents will never forgive you.

Though they may have conceived you, raised you and loved you through tough times - including the occasional pregnancy crisis - your parents will excommunicate you from their entire lives if they see that eagle, flag, or cartoon character on your outer bicep. That means no more Thanksgiving; no more Christmas; no more Yom Kippur; no more Juneteenth (represent!). That means no financial benefits - probably in the form of real estate - when they finally kick it.

You need the money; don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about.

I can’t believe you chose communications over business. Idiot.

5. You’re a giant pussy, and totally not cool.

One Shots - The articles

Life is Crap Dio is Dead, And That's NOT ALL!
Death of Oprah
The Top Ten Reasons I'd Rather Live in Galactica
Upcoming Changes to TSA Regulations
Dolphins and Pumpkins and Halo, Oh My!
Reflections on a Summer of Nerd
Dear Distraught Michael Jackson Fans
The Top Five Ways I Plan To Kill Susan Boyle
Hipsters Must Be Destroyed
I Might Be Queer
Happy holidays from the International Space Station
My Primer for Young People
Questions About the Holodeck
Dear George (Lucas)
Enough with the _______ Already
I Just Don't Get It
The Forthcoming Writers Strike Fallout
I Went to Disneyland
Governor Silver's Ten Point Plan
Comic Con 2007: The Recap
Top Five Reasons You Shouldn't Get A Tattoo
The Articles That Never Were
Playboy Is Boring; Porn Is Good
Things I've Learned and/or Know About Video Games
Smurf Heil: An Expose
The Verdict Is In: Lost Blows
Trading Stuff Rules
Your Kids Will Kill Us All
Vanity
A Children's Story
You Will Never, Ever Escape CSI, You Fools!
VH1 Is Not The Authority on Heavy Metal That I Thought It Was
Yes, If You Play World of Warcraft,You Are A Total Nerd
My Comic Buyer's Guide
The ID and the IQ, A.K.A. - I Took About Ten IQ Tests and Wrote This
Instructions For My Funeral
Site Bio
Purgatory's Restaurant Scene
Your Car Sucks
Lindsey Jacobellis F'd Up
Morgan Freeman Is Better Than You
On Death
Neocon Or Not: You Be The Judge, Part 1
Neocon Or Not: You Be The Judge, Part 2
If You Don't Dig The NewBattlestar Galactica, You Are Likely A Virgin And Will Always Be One
An Outpouring of Opinion about the Great Outdoors
McCarthyism Is Just Fine If You Said Nasty Words
Kill The Goth Kids Before They Kill Us All
My Thoughts on Jesus
Guess What? I Found God...Kinda
No American History For Us, Thanks
Halloween Needs to Die
Thanksgiving
Has Been Abolished
There's No Easy Way To Say This
The Comic Horror Page
The Infamous Home Surgery Page
My First Angry Vacation Rant