14.12.09
23.11.09
uneasy
Right now, I feel like I'm having a panic attack, or the nearest thing to one.
I just feel so uneasy about nothing, or more precisely, about doing nothing when I'm supposed to be working on too many things at the same time. Don't get me wrong--I did start on the last piece of the Tambayan Complex maps, the left side one, but midway the feeling surges. So I stop.
The most I've wished for is that I can physically get rid of the feeling by vomiting.
To pass the time and wear out the sick feeling, I try to make mental lists of what to do. Know that there are too many items to be drawn for game/thesis, but there's no urgency still. Watch a rerun of a TV documentary on an epic gas pipe leak that obliterated a major thoroughfare during rush hour in a major city in Mexico. In between I text him over in-game politics, about a server merge of a game I barely played and decide to write (during this sentence I get interrupted by a command by mom to open the lights in my bedroom, or more appropriately, the cats' room, because they're wailing like hell. My grandfather echoes her--which brings the total number of the times he told me to do that to around 4 or 5, but I was so busy earlier that I didn't follow--and so I snap on my way up to the room. When I get back down, mom orders me to say sorry, which I follow, in the typical insincere way that kids do when faced with the infallability of a mother. To avoid any such moments again I grab my headphones and play rock music loud).
Mom told me earlier this is just fatigue; after all, I had a make-up class from 9am to 1pm earlier. She forgets that deadlines do not understand that concept. Nor does the real world.
And I don't understand how I can be so tired when I've done, in my opinion, barely nothing. I know what to do, and as far as I know, I have no reason to fear continuing my work. So why am I not moving on?
I go back and write, to make sense out of it all.
22.11.09
(f-_-f)
Now to write something up before I go *blag* on the sofabed again.
I've finished only part of what I expected to finish last week. Blame it on the time spent looking for a free streaming site for the Pacquiao-Cotto match (found a live stream from some Hungarian sports channel that was taken down during the sixth round), this weekend's bad case of the sniffles, and of course, laziness. Most of the stuff that got done were org stuff--typing up letters for the UP Lingua Franca's appeal for org recognition and the sponsorship letter for that ice cream eating contest next year.
There were also some stuff in Project1 that got done--the Tambayan Complex map set was almost completed. Since I can't possibly, I've split the real-life Tambayan Complex into three parts:
- the small left portion, where the SPECA tambayan, the ruins of the Writers Club tambayan and the back of the ASKAL stores are;
- the center, where most of the tambayans are: LF, AME, UGAT, GRAIL tambayans;
- and the right side, where the tambayans of Circulo Hispanico, Writers Club (new and compact!), UP Singing Ambassadors, Asterisk, plus the ruins of the Tomo-Kai tambayan are. (I'm still currently deciding which sector to put the Deutsche Verein tambayan: center or right?)
So far I've only finished the center and right parts; I need to finish the left part and also cleaning up/troubleshooting the maps by Wednesday.
Since I'm using the same tile set for all the Tambayan Complex maps, it somehow came to a point wherein many of the tambayans looked a bit similar. (Tiles are the building blocks of the map: like a collage, you stick smaller pictures together to make a bigger picture that ends up as the map.) Aside from the limited tile options--which can actually be remedied by the very tedious process of making new tiles--there is also the issue of space.
Because the camera angle of RPG Maker XP is similar to the old school RPGs on consoles--an aerial view at an angle--you need to place objects in the foreground and the background to give an illusion of height and distance. And that illusion of height is built through the layers, where the ones at the background/ground go on the first layer, then other elements on the layers above it. The layers work in the same way as Photoshop layers, or imagine it as something similar to having just three sheets of transparency film that have pictures on top of each other. The different pictures on those sheets of transparency film overlap and create a newer picture.
However, RPG Maker XP only has three available layers where one can put tiles on. Even if I had wanted to put more detail for each tambayan, since you can only put one tile per space per layer, I cannot add too much detail. The first layer itself is already reserved for the grassy ground, so I only have two layers left to work on.
It all came down to how I would differentiate the tambayans through the one-paragraph descriptions that pop up whenever my character goes near and "inspects" each tambayan. And since it's my character that is doing the inspecting, I can only share what my character's insights are.
In the creation of the descriptions, I've also noticed how little I knew about the other orgs, or how what I know about the other tambayans are really from the POV of an outsider, in reference to what I know.
Then again, this is supposed to be an essay and I'm still the one writing it. Can't simply erase myself from it, can I?
And yeah, screenshots:
14.11.09
been a while
And a lot has happened.
Quickpost this image to Myspace, Digg, Facebook, and others!
Funny though that the thing which initially kept me away from this blog--acads--is bringing me back. Plurk has kept me away, too, but that's also my acads' fault: if you've been writing a lot of pretty long stuff (fine, not that long, but at least more than 140 characters) on demand because of school, you'd appreciate the short form of Plurk. But that's not to say Plurk is lesser; it's just the practice of brevity, something that's pretty much treasured in my course and I generally feel comfortable with now (see: mother's sabaw moments).
I did miss the longer form of the blog post, during times when lengthy arguments were necessary, when there are (quite deviant) points to be made. Plurk's easy reply system cuts lengthy arguments in odd places, with too many other people replying at the same time to said plurk.
That said, I'm returning for my thesis. Muse on a Moodswing will work in a way similar to a devblog for the game that I'm currently working on. The game, tentatively titled Project 1, is based on a writing exercise from my CW141 (Creative Nonfiction 2) class. Platform, of course, will be the PC; ever the scriptkiddy, I'll be using RPG Maker XP to build the game. Blog will be updated at least once a week.
For now, a screenshot from Project1:
Quickpost this image to Myspace, Digg, Facebook, and others!8.2.09
grappling with air and fish
Haiku
Grappling with air, the
Fish just out of water swim
'Cross plastic valleys.
----------------------------------
Couplets
Grappling---the thoughts
fluttering still,
Within captured
essence, silent
Air. We hang still
like marionettes.
--------------------------
Villanelle
The table, empty and clean.
The boss, still not risen up from bed.
She asks: What do you mean?
Cloth, white to the seams.
The fish, finished up to the head.
The table, empty and clean.
You, ordered: polish 'til it gleams.
The daughter has, instead of him, broken bread.
She asks: What do you mean?
You didn't dare interrupt as you think he dreams.
But she insists, and there had to be led.
The table, empty and clean.
'Tis not good, she deems,
As you echo her dread.
She asks: What do you mean?
Nothing is what it seems.
The patriarch, now dead.
The table, empty and clean.
She asks: What do you mean?
Grappling with air, the
Fish just out of water swim
'Cross plastic valleys.
----------------------------------
Couplets
Grappling---the thoughts
fluttering still,
Within captured
essence, silent
Air. We hang still
like marionettes.
--------------------------
Villanelle
The table, empty and clean.
The boss, still not risen up from bed.
She asks: What do you mean?
Cloth, white to the seams.
The fish, finished up to the head.
The table, empty and clean.
You, ordered: polish 'til it gleams.
The daughter has, instead of him, broken bread.
She asks: What do you mean?
You didn't dare interrupt as you think he dreams.
But she insists, and there had to be led.
The table, empty and clean.
'Tis not good, she deems,
As you echo her dread.
She asks: What do you mean?
Nothing is what it seems.
The patriarch, now dead.
The table, empty and clean.
She asks: What do you mean?
4.9.08
oro, plata, mata
written for CW100--fiction--under Prof. Coscolluela
Her high heels echoed as she walked out of the service staircase and into the marble hallway of the building's top floor. The heavy wooden doors, marked "Executive Offices", waited for her at the end of the corridor.
She knew he should still be there, as she turned the ever-polished ever-bright brass doorknob. She then stepped inside and found him there, seated in front of a reproduction of Caravaggio's David and Goliath. It was not as hard as they--the veterans--had said, she thought.
"O iha, akala ko ba tapos na shift mo?" he casually asked, surprised at her arrival. "Baka naman masobrahan ka na sa OT nyan."
The remark nearly caught her off-guard. She tried to look the part--stoic, cold. This was a man, that despite all her preconceived notions, managed to earn her respect in the short time that she "worked" for him. It was just so sad that we had to be on opposite sides, she thought.
"Sir--"
"Yes?"
She hesitated...but she felt the cold metal brush against her skin, with only her thin blouse between steel and flesh.
"I'm sorry."
She drew the gun and shot him in the head, point-blank.
---------------
Revision: 26Sep08
Her high heels echoed as she walked out of the service staircase and into the marble hallway of the building's top floor. The heavy wooden doors, marked "Executive Offices", waited for her at the end of the corridor.
Her high heels echoed as she walked out of the service staircase and into the marble hallway of the building's top floor. The heavy wooden doors, marked "Executive Offices", waited for her at the end of the corridor.
She knew he should still be there, as she turned the ever-polished ever-bright brass doorknob. She then stepped inside and found him there, seated in front of a reproduction of Caravaggio's David and Goliath. It was not as hard as they--the veterans--had said, she thought.
"O iha, akala ko ba tapos na shift mo?" he casually asked, surprised at her arrival. "Baka naman masobrahan ka na sa OT nyan."
The remark nearly caught her off-guard. She tried to look the part--stoic, cold. This was a man, that despite all her preconceived notions, managed to earn her respect in the short time that she "worked" for him. It was just so sad that we had to be on opposite sides, she thought.
"Sir--"
"Yes?"
She hesitated...but she felt the cold metal brush against her skin, with only her thin blouse between steel and flesh.
"I'm sorry."
She drew the gun and shot him in the head, point-blank.
---------------
Revision: 26Sep08
Her high heels echoed as she walked out of the service staircase and into the marble hallway of the building's top floor. The heavy wooden doors, marked "Executive Offices", waited for her at the end of the corridor.
Such a far cry from where she began, just another employee from a rival company. Then the offer came to join the elite Circle; and propelled by the need to do something about her mother's allegedly accidental death, she said yes.
She knew he would still be there, as she reached the door and turned the ever-polished, ever-bright brass doorknob. Probably poring over work—and the little dirty details associated with it, such as forcing another company CEO to resign. But no matter--the business is dirty as it is.
She then stepped inside and found him seated in front of a reproduction of Caravaggio's David and Goliath. It was not as hard as they—the veterans—had said, she thought.
"O iha, akala ko ba tapos na shift mo?" he casually asked, surprised at her arrival. "Baka naman masobrahan ka na sa OT nyan."
The remark nearly caught her off-guard. She tried to look the part--stoic, cold. This was a man, that despite all her preconceived notions, managed to earn her respect in the short time that she "worked" for him. 'It's just so sad that we had to be on opposite sides,' she thought. Had only he joined their side.
"Sir--"
"Yes?"
She hesitated...but she felt the cold metal brush against her skin, with only her thin blouse between steel and flesh.
"I'm sorry."
She drew the gun and shot him in the head, point-blank.
31.8.08
flashback
Yeah, I know, long time no post--and I'm not even completely posting all new material. The thing is, I'm scrounging around for material for my flash fic due Sept. 11 (ominous date) and I did manage to find some on my lappy. Some were previously on the old Roseboards (now deleted) or made for it; the other still unfinished one I just imagined earlier. So, enjoy.
--------------------------->
15 minutes
I glance at my watch the moment I step out of the classroom. 16.45hrs, it said.
The event was scheduled to begin at 1700hrs +8 GMT. 15 minutes to get home. No other choice: run.
So I break into a run. Run past invitations from friends (‘Uhh, listen, I’ve got to go home early today’) and through suffocating crowds hustling to everywhere. Run across streets of cacophonous traffic, up stairs and into trains that are full of strangers that are also in a hurry to get to wherever; and those wherevers don’t seem important now. Getting home is the only important thing.
Yes, I know, just a game. But I am a gamer (and a very proud Pinay one at that), and this is my life. We are the movers and shakers of worlds in pixel through the ethereal maifestations of ourselves; and these strangers, they wouldn’t understand. Much less care.
I jostle and push my way out of the train. Bags checked, then I try to walk as fast as I can—running would attract unwanted attention at the moment. Then the last obstacle—traffic as I ride the jeep home. Only a few minutes left.
Finally, home at last! Connected, login….wait---what the hell?!
“Prepaid game time has elapsed. Please reload your accout to continue playing at http://www.roseonline.ph.”
That was the last thing I saw before I threw the mouse at the screen.
----------->
Annatariel's Story
You go inside an ordinary, almost empty room with off-white walls, and see a woman with strawberry blonde hair seated on the solitary chair inside the room. She was clad in armor--similar to the armor worn by the class of Hawkers--but you know that she is not one, from the way she sits and conducts herself. Slightly slouching, she stares back at you intently, her sea-blue eyes critiquing every inch of you, and you wince; she seems to be sticking probes in every inch of your body.
You come closer, and introduce yourself. "You must be Annatariel," you manage to utter, and offer a handshake.
"And for what reason am I summoned here?" she replies.
'So what they say about her is true' you think. "I'm here to ask you a few questions--it's for the city's Lore Compilation Division. They wished to know about your story."
"I'm surprised you actually exerted all that effort into looking for me, just to ask these questions. To sum it up in a few sentences, I had stopped training for the meantime--after all, the battle seems to be futile at this point. I laid down my sword then.
I decided to roam the plains beyond the Seven Realms, some beyond the reach of the Goddess herself, I presume. But I have always kept in touch, and I do drop by once in a while, though in different guises."
She looks slightly amused as you quickly grab a pen and a scrap of parchment, jotting down what she said.
"Well, I'm afraid I cannot tell you the whole story. I am sure that the city's rumor mill can compensate enough for that, and if you are not satisfied, you may ask my old clanmates."
She stands up and leaves you inside the room, wondering what you had said to wrong her.
------------->
Unfinished -- same time as Umbrella
His letter to me lay on the pavement, unnoticed.
I'm still waiting for him. I want him to explain, face to face, not in the form of some letter. And this bird hanging from his supposedly lofty perch has mocked me enough for the past few minutes.
Now where in the world is he anyway? I'm halfway through this cheap paperback already. It's so unlike him to become late.
---------->
Drive
How odd does this end, she thought, a taxi driver and his rearview mirror the only witnesses to a world's ending.
It was almost perfect earlier: dinner for two at a fancy restaurant, complete with violin serenade and candlelight. And him, of course, he that she hasn't seen for a long time. Then slowly the evening unraveled, culminating with a grand melodramatic phrase.
And as the Makati skyline passed her by, she realized how different now it was, now that she's all alone on the backseat of a taxi.
“Miss, okey ka lang?” the taxi driver glanced at the rearview mirror, hearing her muffled sobs.
“Okey lang po...” she replied; knowing full well that in the next few days, weeks, months she would be repeating the same phrase over and over in her head.
--------------------------->
15 minutes
I glance at my watch the moment I step out of the classroom. 16.45hrs, it said.
The event was scheduled to begin at 1700hrs +8 GMT. 15 minutes to get home. No other choice: run.
So I break into a run. Run past invitations from friends (‘Uhh, listen, I’ve got to go home early today’) and through suffocating crowds hustling to everywhere. Run across streets of cacophonous traffic, up stairs and into trains that are full of strangers that are also in a hurry to get to wherever; and those wherevers don’t seem important now. Getting home is the only important thing.
Yes, I know, just a game. But I am a gamer (and a very proud Pinay one at that), and this is my life. We are the movers and shakers of worlds in pixel through the ethereal maifestations of ourselves; and these strangers, they wouldn’t understand. Much less care.
I jostle and push my way out of the train. Bags checked, then I try to walk as fast as I can—running would attract unwanted attention at the moment. Then the last obstacle—traffic as I ride the jeep home. Only a few minutes left.
Finally, home at last! Connected, login….wait---what the hell?!
“Prepaid game time has elapsed. Please reload your accout to continue playing at http://www.roseonline.ph.”
That was the last thing I saw before I threw the mouse at the screen.
----------->
Annatariel's Story
You go inside an ordinary, almost empty room with off-white walls, and see a woman with strawberry blonde hair seated on the solitary chair inside the room. She was clad in armor--similar to the armor worn by the class of Hawkers--but you know that she is not one, from the way she sits and conducts herself. Slightly slouching, she stares back at you intently, her sea-blue eyes critiquing every inch of you, and you wince; she seems to be sticking probes in every inch of your body.
You come closer, and introduce yourself. "You must be Annatariel," you manage to utter, and offer a handshake.
"And for what reason am I summoned here?" she replies.
'So what they say about her is true' you think. "I'm here to ask you a few questions--it's for the city's Lore Compilation Division. They wished to know about your story."
"I'm surprised you actually exerted all that effort into looking for me, just to ask these questions. To sum it up in a few sentences, I had stopped training for the meantime--after all, the battle seems to be futile at this point. I laid down my sword then.
I decided to roam the plains beyond the Seven Realms, some beyond the reach of the Goddess herself, I presume. But I have always kept in touch, and I do drop by once in a while, though in different guises."
She looks slightly amused as you quickly grab a pen and a scrap of parchment, jotting down what she said.
"Well, I'm afraid I cannot tell you the whole story. I am sure that the city's rumor mill can compensate enough for that, and if you are not satisfied, you may ask my old clanmates."
She stands up and leaves you inside the room, wondering what you had said to wrong her.
------------->
Unfinished -- same time as Umbrella
His letter to me lay on the pavement, unnoticed.
I'm still waiting for him. I want him to explain, face to face, not in the form of some letter. And this bird hanging from his supposedly lofty perch has mocked me enough for the past few minutes.
Now where in the world is he anyway? I'm halfway through this cheap paperback already. It's so unlike him to become late.
---------->
Drive
How odd does this end, she thought, a taxi driver and his rearview mirror the only witnesses to a world's ending.
It was almost perfect earlier: dinner for two at a fancy restaurant, complete with violin serenade and candlelight. And him, of course, he that she hasn't seen for a long time. Then slowly the evening unraveled, culminating with a grand melodramatic phrase.
And as the Makati skyline passed her by, she realized how different now it was, now that she's all alone on the backseat of a taxi.
“Miss, okey ka lang?” the taxi driver glanced at the rearview mirror, hearing her muffled sobs.
“Okey lang po...” she replied; knowing full well that in the next few days, weeks, months she would be repeating the same phrase over and over in her head.
21.7.08
plurk'd
Just to keep my sanity while writing those one-paragraph critiques for CW100 (and yes, I was pretty busy this weekend), I finally succumbed to the lure of plurking (see little widget below the shoutbox at right). That doesn't mean that I'll be abandoning this blog; on the contrary, I'll use it as my corkboard of sorts for random ideas that are too short to put up on the blog, or good phrases that I want to keep for later.
I'm also planning to start on the 140-character flash fics/poetry on Plurk (because of the 140-character limit that they have when, well, plurking)--thanks to Jojo for the idea. 8-> So far I haven't thought of anything yet, but well, I'll try to get there--it's something different from just asking questions and stuff on your Plurk. :)
Now to go back to the poem I'm supposed to submit tomorrow. @_@
I'm also planning to start on the 140-character flash fics/poetry on Plurk (because of the 140-character limit that they have when, well, plurking)--thanks to Jojo for the idea. 8-> So far I haven't thought of anything yet, but well, I'll try to get there--it's something different from just asking questions and stuff on your Plurk. :)
Now to go back to the poem I'm supposed to submit tomorrow. @_@
8.7.08
bananacue
Cheap, common, delicious.
I'd find you along Aurora
Peddled by old ladies
In the darkness between watch repair stores
And cheap stamp-makers.
Your fried, golden-brown skin
Breaks on my lips
As I bite.
But you're of old stock banana
Overripe, even.
You're beat-up
By the days and nights,
Mushy with the promises
Of old love songs
And princes that will carry you away.
Somehow, the heat
Made you tougher than you were
Firmness of your flesh.
And you're sweet, sugar
Like your name.
I withdraw the stick,
After it has so (un)ceremoniously
Pierced your flesh.
I'd find you along Aurora
Peddled by old ladies
In the darkness between watch repair stores
And cheap stamp-makers.
Your fried, golden-brown skin
Breaks on my lips
As I bite.
But you're of old stock banana
Overripe, even.
You're beat-up
By the days and nights,
Mushy with the promises
Of old love songs
And princes that will carry you away.
Somehow, the heat
Made you tougher than you were
Firmness of your flesh.
And you're sweet, sugar
Like your name.
I withdraw the stick,
After it has so (un)ceremoniously
Pierced your flesh.
23.6.08
rain
originally written for CW100 under Prof. Mooney
We, at first,
watched the heavens
hurl itself violently
against the pavement.
We step into its path,
letting this act transform us--
into the children
that we were once were.
We, at first,
watched the heavens
hurl itself violently
against the pavement.
We step into its path,
letting this act transform us--
into the children
that we were once were.
crazy about karts
Finally managed to change the blog layout--only because of a typhoon and Crazy Kart, a casual racing game (ala Mario Kart) still in CBT here in the PH (it's . It's another game from a Chinese developer/distributor, Shanda (SNDA), the same guys that have the Chinese franchise Bombs and Bubbles (which I hope will also be released here) and GetAmped (suprise much?).
I'll prolly write a review on Crazy Kart when it's out of closed beta already and all other reviews as well, I'll squeeze in between breaks. Not right now, though--it's nearly 1am and I'm starting to become sleepy.
I'll prolly write a review on Crazy Kart when it's out of closed beta already and all other reviews as well, I'll squeeze in between breaks. Not right now, though--it's nearly 1am and I'm starting to become sleepy.
7.6.08
dimmed
I'm typing this on ScribeFire again, the half of my screen open on a story's outline; a story yet to be written. I've been reading and rereading this for four days, even meaning to do the story as soon as I've gotten the outline, but to no avail. Not even an introductory paragraph. A scene--once or twice--from the story yet to be written flashed across my mind's vision but I only have a fleeting memory of it, not enough to start a story with. I cannot even finish an earlier editing job--the thread's been open for several weeks, I think, and for some reason I can't go on and finish it.
I can't write--the spark has been sapped out of my spirit. And this is probably a futile attempt to recapture it, apart from banging my head on the wall.
I can't write--the spark has been sapped out of my spirit. And this is probably a futile attempt to recapture it, apart from banging my head on the wall.
3.6.08
that bouncy hair: a rohan review
I hate to say that for this game, it's too good to play with my PC.
Yes, ROHAN Online's graphics is too good for this old PC of mine. Yet even if the game is barely playable with the graphics lag, still some shining points of this game's graphics show. For starters, with every step of your character, your character's hair (and, much to a friend's delight, the breasts of the female avatar) bounces. That at even the lowest settings. Then with stunning moves for the characters--from Elven nuke spells to Dekan techniques featuring somersaults--this game is truly a feast for the eyes and another reason for me to get a better vidcard.
Too bad that despite all the eye candy ingame, customization is still not too detailed. Players can just choose from several hairdos and faces; and hair choices can sometimes be confusing--some types of hairstyle have a different color, albeit the order of colors and hairstyles is pretty confusing. What your character wears will also play a part in how your character looks; your equipment will show as worn except for headgears, which prolly is hidden to show that bouncy hair.
In terms of gameplay, despite a quite ordinary levelling and skill/stat allocation system, some unique features make ROHAN stand out. One of which is the multiplier system, which multiplies the exp of the nth monster killed by x. Before anyone gets a nosebleed, it goes like this: player kills 19 monsters. On the 20th nonster, the exp received is multiplied by 7. This goes on until the 100th kill, which gives a really big multiplier that at my 100th kill, my exp jumped from 20% to 92% at lv9. This surely is a good motivation for grinding--another proof of Rolf's old statement that Korean-made games are grind games.
But this doesnt mean that ROHAN doesn't have any quests. On the contrary the quests do give out rewards, but for levels way way above your own. Example is the lv10 quest in town which just requires you to talk to a couple of NPCs. The reward is a Lv20 weapon which is pretty much useless unless you get to that level.
This is where the refine system kicks in. ROHAN's refine system is the reverse of the usual upgrade system of online gaming--instead of getting additional attributes, the minimum level and status is reduced. So if you are lucky enough in refning, you could get that LV20 weapon to Lv10, and kick monster and player ass with it.
Overall ROHAN may seem as your typical Korean grinding game--but with the added features and all that graphics beauty, it's still one of the good games so far released for this year.
Yes, ROHAN Online's graphics is too good for this old PC of mine. Yet even if the game is barely playable with the graphics lag, still some shining points of this game's graphics show. For starters, with every step of your character, your character's hair (and, much to a friend's delight, the breasts of the female avatar) bounces. That at even the lowest settings. Then with stunning moves for the characters--from Elven nuke spells to Dekan techniques featuring somersaults--this game is truly a feast for the eyes and another reason for me to get a better vidcard.
Too bad that despite all the eye candy ingame, customization is still not too detailed. Players can just choose from several hairdos and faces; and hair choices can sometimes be confusing--some types of hairstyle have a different color, albeit the order of colors and hairstyles is pretty confusing. What your character wears will also play a part in how your character looks; your equipment will show as worn except for headgears, which prolly is hidden to show that bouncy hair.
In terms of gameplay, despite a quite ordinary levelling and skill/stat allocation system, some unique features make ROHAN stand out. One of which is the multiplier system, which multiplies the exp of the nth monster killed by x. Before anyone gets a nosebleed, it goes like this: player kills 19 monsters. On the 20th nonster, the exp received is multiplied by 7. This goes on until the 100th kill, which gives a really big multiplier that at my 100th kill, my exp jumped from 20% to 92% at lv9. This surely is a good motivation for grinding--another proof of Rolf's old statement that Korean-made games are grind games.
But this doesnt mean that ROHAN doesn't have any quests. On the contrary the quests do give out rewards, but for levels way way above your own. Example is the lv10 quest in town which just requires you to talk to a couple of NPCs. The reward is a Lv20 weapon which is pretty much useless unless you get to that level.
This is where the refine system kicks in. ROHAN's refine system is the reverse of the usual upgrade system of online gaming--instead of getting additional attributes, the minimum level and status is reduced. So if you are lucky enough in refning, you could get that LV20 weapon to Lv10, and kick monster and player ass with it.
Overall ROHAN may seem as your typical Korean grinding game--but with the added features and all that graphics beauty, it's still one of the good games so far released for this year.
29.5.08
of botting and gaming: a peek into magic world online
The name of the game itself, running in the background, sounded cheesy at first. Then the graphics, slightly only higher than that of Ragnarok Online, aren't exactly appealing either. Yet Magic World Online, or MWO, is interesting enough that I'm still logging in after some weeks.
The game is basically country versus country--Dynasty vs. Empire. Both countries have the same basic, self-explanatory classes--Warrior (Melee), Archer (Ranged), Mage (Nuker) and Summoner (Healer)--which later on go to detailed paths. The opposing countries can even buy each other's goods through the in-game Auction. Customization is also very minimal--only when you chance armor can you look different, and you have to shell out 50k gold to change hairstyle plus another 50k and a bottle of Plant Dye to change hair color. Equipments are also locked to their respective classes, so no Warriors in magic armor for anyone. Pets are available only for the Summoner class, while the mount system is for all classes and gives your character additional attributes once equipped.
As stated earlier, if you are looking for a graphics-heavy game, this game is not for you. MWO is, in a lot of ways, similar to Ragnarok Online: so-called 2-and-a-half-d graphics, grind-heavy in the later levels, and of course, botting. To paraphrase from their website, MWO is the only game that has a built-in bot. Of course this is not the case, since other games such as Granado Espada also have bots. The difference is that in the case of GE, the game would be insanely hard to play if you don't have a bot, since you are in control of three characters. In MWO, you can play it without a bot, only that it takes longer.
The problem with this built-in bot is that it raises some (I daresay) ethical questions in gaming. If technically the strongest contention against botting is that it is a third-party program or it only works when modifying the client, then with this built-in bot, it is made legal since it comes with the game itself. If botting is seen then as cheating--since law-abiding players in other games (where bots are illegal) do not use bots--then by providing the bot to everyone, no one would level up faster or gain the upper hand just because of a bot since everyone has access to it.
However, the drawbacks of botting already show. I can't play my Temple Warrior in MWO as well as my other characters in other games simply because I haven't had enough practice with it. There was once even an issue on Country Chat wherein a player complained of another player KS'ing her; yet since the KS'er was only a bot, no one can do anything about it except wait for the player to return and turn off the bot.
With the bot, too, multiple logging in of accounts are commonplace. In a thread in their official forums, there was a guide to getting rich, which explains how to setup farming characters that can farm at the same time. Since you can easily get rich in the game, the effectiveness of the newly-released item mall remains to be seen, as some item mall items can be obtained through normal means in-game.
MWO's Mount system, though, puts a little bit of manual work back in the game. Since mounts need to be leveled up through feeding before a player can ride it, and the feeding cannot be automated, to get a rideable mount you do need to play (or rather wait for your mount to go hungry). And since the food--or powders--needed by the mount come from item decomposition, which is also done manually, you do need to put in some hard work just to get a rideable mount.
All in all, though playable and quite enjoyable at first, MWO is nothing truly new in gaming; and despite challenging some ethical points of gaming itself, it still does bring some semblance of balance back in the game.
The game is basically country versus country--Dynasty vs. Empire. Both countries have the same basic, self-explanatory classes--Warrior (Melee), Archer (Ranged), Mage (Nuker) and Summoner (Healer)--which later on go to detailed paths. The opposing countries can even buy each other's goods through the in-game Auction. Customization is also very minimal--only when you chance armor can you look different, and you have to shell out 50k gold to change hairstyle plus another 50k and a bottle of Plant Dye to change hair color. Equipments are also locked to their respective classes, so no Warriors in magic armor for anyone. Pets are available only for the Summoner class, while the mount system is for all classes and gives your character additional attributes once equipped.
As stated earlier, if you are looking for a graphics-heavy game, this game is not for you. MWO is, in a lot of ways, similar to Ragnarok Online: so-called 2-and-a-half-d graphics, grind-heavy in the later levels, and of course, botting. To paraphrase from their website, MWO is the only game that has a built-in bot. Of course this is not the case, since other games such as Granado Espada also have bots. The difference is that in the case of GE, the game would be insanely hard to play if you don't have a bot, since you are in control of three characters. In MWO, you can play it without a bot, only that it takes longer.
The problem with this built-in bot is that it raises some (I daresay) ethical questions in gaming. If technically the strongest contention against botting is that it is a third-party program or it only works when modifying the client, then with this built-in bot, it is made legal since it comes with the game itself. If botting is seen then as cheating--since law-abiding players in other games (where bots are illegal) do not use bots--then by providing the bot to everyone, no one would level up faster or gain the upper hand just because of a bot since everyone has access to it.
However, the drawbacks of botting already show. I can't play my Temple Warrior in MWO as well as my other characters in other games simply because I haven't had enough practice with it. There was once even an issue on Country Chat wherein a player complained of another player KS'ing her; yet since the KS'er was only a bot, no one can do anything about it except wait for the player to return and turn off the bot.
With the bot, too, multiple logging in of accounts are commonplace. In a thread in their official forums, there was a guide to getting rich, which explains how to setup farming characters that can farm at the same time. Since you can easily get rich in the game, the effectiveness of the newly-released item mall remains to be seen, as some item mall items can be obtained through normal means in-game.
MWO's Mount system, though, puts a little bit of manual work back in the game. Since mounts need to be leveled up through feeding before a player can ride it, and the feeding cannot be automated, to get a rideable mount you do need to play (or rather wait for your mount to go hungry). And since the food--or powders--needed by the mount come from item decomposition, which is also done manually, you do need to put in some hard work just to get a rideable mount.
All in all, though playable and quite enjoyable at first, MWO is nothing truly new in gaming; and despite challenging some ethical points of gaming itself, it still does bring some semblance of balance back in the game.
27.5.08
ending summer/starting over
[quote]So there, finally writing again.
It's been more than a month since I last wrote, mainly because of a) summer classes b) in-game duties and c) sheer procrastination. A lot has happened--finally shifting to BA Creative Writing (*yay!* at first, but *groan* after, now the real battle begins), shakeups in the game (too many to mention) and literary theory opening up my world (well kinda). I even meant to change the layout for my personal spaces online--meaning blog, Friendster, and alter-ego--but since I'm a stuck in a little creative rut right now, I need to write it off first (literally).
As I've written, I had summer class--CL121 under Sir Aureus and CL150 under Sir Capili. Pretty much opposites--Sir Aureus' class (Literary theory from Plato to the Romantics) can really sweep you off your feet with his lively discussions on philosophies and their manifestations in everyday life.[/quote]
That was the post I was writing the other day and went unfinished as Blogger and/or ScribeFire hanged up on me. Since it's noon and I'm not really in the mood to reminisce, I'll just go on what my plans are for this blog.
Next few posts would be concentrating on the gamer side of me: reviews of Magic World Online (MWO) and Rohan Online. I'll also be changing the background to something else--though what exactly else eludes me, since (as I've stated earlier) I'm in a creative rut and other layouts still need to be sorted out. I'll also be putting tags starting from the game reviews, and clean up the blogroll (since some of the links there are dead).
So I guess that's it for now, prolly later I'll be posting the MWO review.
It's been more than a month since I last wrote, mainly because of a) summer classes b) in-game duties and c) sheer procrastination. A lot has happened--finally shifting to BA Creative Writing (*yay!* at first, but *groan* after, now the real battle begins), shakeups in the game (too many to mention) and literary theory opening up my world (well kinda). I even meant to change the layout for my personal spaces online--meaning blog, Friendster, and alter-ego--but since I'm a stuck in a little creative rut right now, I need to write it off first (literally).
As I've written, I had summer class--CL121 under Sir Aureus and CL150 under Sir Capili. Pretty much opposites--Sir Aureus' class (Literary theory from Plato to the Romantics) can really sweep you off your feet with his lively discussions on philosophies and their manifestations in everyday life.[/quote]
That was the post I was writing the other day and went unfinished as Blogger and/or ScribeFire hanged up on me. Since it's noon and I'm not really in the mood to reminisce, I'll just go on what my plans are for this blog.
Next few posts would be concentrating on the gamer side of me: reviews of Magic World Online (MWO) and Rohan Online. I'll also be changing the background to something else--though what exactly else eludes me, since (as I've stated earlier) I'm in a creative rut and other layouts still need to be sorted out. I'll also be putting tags starting from the game reviews, and clean up the blogroll (since some of the links there are dead).
So I guess that's it for now, prolly later I'll be posting the MWO review.
12.4.08
phobia
Fear.
It's this fear, paralyzing, that kept me from writing all this time. This fear that made me check my email a little too obsessively, to answer several Friendster surveys that asked the same old questions, to read news articles that normally I wouldn't have read (not that it's a completely bad thing). This fear I mask in laughter and I try to drown in happy moments. Good thing there's ScribeFire (yes a shameless plug)--at least I'm comforted by the thought that there's half-a-window of another site open.
And this fear's source I do not exactly know, nor completely comprehend.
Maybe because I am again afraid to make mistakes. That whatever I say or write be branded as shit by those I respect. I would rather be criticized by a thousand voices, loud yet anonymous, than be whispered spiteful words by a friend. And to write well, one must think; yet I am tired of this exercise. Because once you start, you have to end it; if you've ended it, you must've started it well.
Maybe because in this act of writing, I acknowledge the fact that I am again alone, like I was around a year ago whilst in the flurry of deadline-chasing. The main reason I write then was because I had no one to talk to, and with this, I acknowledge the fact that the guy that I used to share everything with had completely become a stranger, and all efforts to create a conversation have been futile.
Haven't I said that I'm moving on? And haven't we, just a few weeks ago and a few weeks after the break, treated each other as friends like the old times? Again and again I ask myself these two questions until they retrogress into incoherent ramblings, and slowly silenced by sleep. Unfortunately I cannot cry it off, just like I did the first, from which I have gone from without remorse.
What I get for being such a traitor.
Fear moves, mocks. When I, the dominant, has been silenced.
It's this fear, paralyzing, that kept me from writing all this time. This fear that made me check my email a little too obsessively, to answer several Friendster surveys that asked the same old questions, to read news articles that normally I wouldn't have read (not that it's a completely bad thing). This fear I mask in laughter and I try to drown in happy moments. Good thing there's ScribeFire (yes a shameless plug)--at least I'm comforted by the thought that there's half-a-window of another site open.
And this fear's source I do not exactly know, nor completely comprehend.
Maybe because I am again afraid to make mistakes. That whatever I say or write be branded as shit by those I respect. I would rather be criticized by a thousand voices, loud yet anonymous, than be whispered spiteful words by a friend. And to write well, one must think; yet I am tired of this exercise. Because once you start, you have to end it; if you've ended it, you must've started it well.
Maybe because in this act of writing, I acknowledge the fact that I am again alone, like I was around a year ago whilst in the flurry of deadline-chasing. The main reason I write then was because I had no one to talk to, and with this, I acknowledge the fact that the guy that I used to share everything with had completely become a stranger, and all efforts to create a conversation have been futile.
Haven't I said that I'm moving on? And haven't we, just a few weeks ago and a few weeks after the break, treated each other as friends like the old times? Again and again I ask myself these two questions until they retrogress into incoherent ramblings, and slowly silenced by sleep. Unfortunately I cannot cry it off, just like I did the first, from which I have gone from without remorse.
What I get for being such a traitor.
Fear moves, mocks. When I, the dominant, has been silenced.
19.3.08
skyline
Written last March 14, a few hours before the end.
The view at night
from a friend's car.
It is usallly like this
city lights flashing away.
I know--
we've seen this carnival
a thousand times.
Only now,
you are not with me,
not at my side,
and the view's different tonight.
The view at night
from a friend's car.
It is usallly like this
city lights flashing away.
I know--
we've seen this carnival
a thousand times.
Only now,
you are not with me,
not at my side,
and the view's different tonight.
15.3.08
The stylus lay in the mess that is my room, unbothered.
Last night was the end that I had refused to believe would come, despite seeing all the signs. Though the scenario played endlessly before, as a nightmare uninvited, I was still caught off-guard. Or rather, you can never be prepared, especially when you know you have to break your heart for the greater good.
And this morning, as I went around this city for my usual routine, it was only then that I realized how this city is stained by memories of you. Of us. How the pillars at the train station remembered how you embrace me, and how you walked with me when I had that sprain and everything. How I tried to look for those adhesive table linings that I had hidden once in between the styli at that store, only to find that both linings and styli are gone, replaced by quite overpriced pens.
How every step reminded me of you, the moments I spent with you; and how I held your hand when we walked together.
The stylus still lay among my stuff. I never got to give it to you.
Last night was the end that I had refused to believe would come, despite seeing all the signs. Though the scenario played endlessly before, as a nightmare uninvited, I was still caught off-guard. Or rather, you can never be prepared, especially when you know you have to break your heart for the greater good.
And this morning, as I went around this city for my usual routine, it was only then that I realized how this city is stained by memories of you. Of us. How the pillars at the train station remembered how you embrace me, and how you walked with me when I had that sprain and everything. How I tried to look for those adhesive table linings that I had hidden once in between the styli at that store, only to find that both linings and styli are gone, replaced by quite overpriced pens.
How every step reminded me of you, the moments I spent with you; and how I held your hand when we walked together.
The stylus still lay among my stuff. I never got to give it to you.
9.3.08
the professor's wife
Every day it went; a daily routine:
She would bring him coffee
While he was hunched over his papers
In his crowded study
Surrounded by his creations great and small.
She would watch him
And his coffee
Turn cold
While he rummaged through mazes
Of figures that she barely understood.
Sometimes she'd jokingly think
That he had slipped the ring
On the wrong woman's finger--
She felt a mistress, secondary
To Science and the Muses.
Not that she'd mind;
It was a burden
A path of servitude
That her love chose to take.
And so she set the cup on his desk
Still piping hot
With his quick thanks
She went back to the kitchen.
Tomorrow morning
She'll return
With another cup--
Just like today
Just like yesterday
She would bring him coffee
While he was hunched over his papers
In his crowded study
Surrounded by his creations great and small.
She would watch him
And his coffee
Turn cold
While he rummaged through mazes
Of figures that she barely understood.
Sometimes she'd jokingly think
That he had slipped the ring
On the wrong woman's finger--
She felt a mistress, secondary
To Science and the Muses.
Not that she'd mind;
It was a burden
A path of servitude
That her love chose to take.
And so she set the cup on his desk
Still piping hot
With his quick thanks
She went back to the kitchen.
Tomorrow morning
She'll return
With another cup--
Just like today
Just like yesterday
3.3.08
harsh realities
Her name, I think, was Diana, something I just found out earlier.
She was the little kid that sells scrunchies at CASAA, an idea romanticized by . I always buy scrunchies from her, even if I don't necessarily use them; that progressed into giving her part of my allowance since she didn't have any. Just a couple of hundred bucks, nothing really big, just a little something to help her survive until the end of the school week. Heck had I have a real job, I'd give more. Just to help, after all, how much would she able to make in a day? Good thing the concessionaires at CASAA are helpful, too--she sometimes gets free meals or something. And you know she's sincere--she'd listen to my worries, I listen to hers; and she would persuade me to buy her scrunchies and not just give her money, back when my hair was longer.
I saw her earlier, while I was on the way to AS101 to submit the request slip for my TCG. She had chased after me, and strangely enough, she was quite desperate. Apparently her grandmother got sick, and needs 40 grand for an operation. I could only offer her the two hundred bucks, and a promise to ask for help. I had nothing more to offer, with the week still ahead of me.
And I hated that feeling--the feeling that I couldn't do anything. If only I had contacts to some charity or whatnot. And I felt the pain, the fear of trying to fill her tiny shoes.
That is her harsh reality, a world apart from mine; yet like all realites the boundaries do blur.
------------->
The World Chat blares, in screaming yellow font: S>Lv80 WX GOOD EQUIPS CEBU AREA.
These accounts, with prices ranging in the thousands, offer a way for rich newbies to play high-levelled characters. It's a trade almost underground, and a trade that cannot be killed off by any gaming company simply by banning accounts.
After all, when you've grown weary of the game, it'd be such a waste to let your account lay dormant. Money does talk, and yes, people are willing to spend that cash on a collection of pixels. Mind you, I do play and spend considerable time playing, but I never went as far to blow off thousands in one go just to get a highbie character.
Then again, it is their reality, and I have no right to speak against what they believe is right.
She was the little kid that sells scrunchies at CASAA, an idea romanticized by . I always buy scrunchies from her, even if I don't necessarily use them; that progressed into giving her part of my allowance since she didn't have any. Just a couple of hundred bucks, nothing really big, just a little something to help her survive until the end of the school week. Heck had I have a real job, I'd give more. Just to help, after all, how much would she able to make in a day? Good thing the concessionaires at CASAA are helpful, too--she sometimes gets free meals or something. And you know she's sincere--she'd listen to my worries, I listen to hers; and she would persuade me to buy her scrunchies and not just give her money, back when my hair was longer.
I saw her earlier, while I was on the way to AS101 to submit the request slip for my TCG. She had chased after me, and strangely enough, she was quite desperate. Apparently her grandmother got sick, and needs 40 grand for an operation. I could only offer her the two hundred bucks, and a promise to ask for help. I had nothing more to offer, with the week still ahead of me.
And I hated that feeling--the feeling that I couldn't do anything. If only I had contacts to some charity or whatnot. And I felt the pain, the fear of trying to fill her tiny shoes.
That is her harsh reality, a world apart from mine; yet like all realites the boundaries do blur.
------------->
The World Chat blares, in screaming yellow font: S>Lv80 WX GOOD EQUIPS CEBU AREA.
These accounts, with prices ranging in the thousands, offer a way for rich newbies to play high-levelled characters. It's a trade almost underground, and a trade that cannot be killed off by any gaming company simply by banning accounts.
After all, when you've grown weary of the game, it'd be such a waste to let your account lay dormant. Money does talk, and yes, people are willing to spend that cash on a collection of pixels. Mind you, I do play and spend considerable time playing, but I never went as far to blow off thousands in one go just to get a highbie character.
Then again, it is their reality, and I have no right to speak against what they believe is right.
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