Hey there, I’ve been pretty inactive lately while I’m working on my Unity project, but I decided to jot down a little bit on the subject of online learning. More than ever in history, the people have access to information. The internet is as big a revolution as the printing press, and will change the world forever. But is it really a valid form of education?
Another EoC Fanfic.
Sage of the Golem Fist
For nearly half a millennia, the Way of the Golem Fist has been practiced within Vallenheim and Dalwyn. A way of life as much as a fighting style; the greatest of practitioners have been known to strike down fully armored knights with nothing but bare fist. The origins of this martial art are the cause of many a debate, what follows is but one such tale. It is a tale of a priest, forsaken by his King in favor of wealth. A man, made golem.
He watched the light flee from sight; replaced by a darkness not meant for the eyes of man. The cave that would be his grave… it was quite large, for a coffin. The stench of guano and decay permeated, overpowering his dwindling senses. The man collapsed in despair. To be sentenced to death for mercy, what great tragedy the Nameless One had written.
As he lay there, lost in his own misery, he felt the calm tickle of life upon his cheek. He reached out, and met the plants handshake in kind. It was purple he thought, of the plant. He could not have known of course, light did not dwell in this abyss. But still, what lay before him did so with such hue. The curious plant danced, wiggling through his fingertips.
Days had passed, alone in his cell. No, not alone he would say. He sat, watching his friends dance to and fro. With each day, their dance grew wilder. He could hear them now. They did not speak, that would be mad. But still, what lay before him did so with such tone. They asked in unity, for him to obey. Not command, but plea, for the man would have to eat. And so with great reluctance, the man consumed his friends.
One a day, he had vowed. He would only sacrifice one of the friends a day. They begged for more, but he refused. He paced, the martyrdom of these friends mustn’t be for naught. The Nameless One would never forgive it. The man could never forgive it. He paced, but what could he do? He was but a man, and a man of letters at that. In his path laid a child of mountain. A mass so large it had taken six men and half mule to seal him. What was he before the might of earth?
He approached the boulder, gently grazing its coarse surface with palm. He felt weak; the weakness that only man can comprehend. He envied the plant, in its ignorance. He envied the boulder, in its strength. Pity became shame, and shame fear, and so fear bred to anger. As he struck the stone, with all the might he could summon, a cutting pain shot through his fist. He knelt in agony, tears and blood mixing. He looked to his friends, now fewer in number, and the pain subsided. With newfound purpose, he wiped away his failure.
It was torment, at first. Weeks of blood, sweat, and guilt. With each passing day, the choir grew quieter. With each passing day, he grew stronger. Within months, he could strike at the barrier without flinch. He awoke, he performed the ritual of murder on his friend, he fought the boulder, and he slept. He could not rest, he could not break. To do so would fail them, would be a mockery of what they have given him. And so he pressed on, his fists screaming for pause. The walls of his coffin echoing the flat packing percussion, an ode to all those he had lost, and those who he would lose.
He sat, reluctant to eat. Three years had passed since he came to this prison, and this was his last friend, dancing even now. He cried, reluctant to eat. He knew not that the plant did not dance. The plant did not shine purple. The plant did not sing. He knew now that the plant did all of these things. He gripped his friend, and made the final sacrifice.
The man sat there, in silence. Such deafening silence. He rose, and stood before nemesis. The man bowed to the stone, a final respect to a most worthy adversary. His hand did not complain, as it formed a fist. His muscles did not moan, as he took his stance. His mind did not waver, as he threw the punch.
And so, the stone bowed.
Embers of Caerus is a Sandbox MMORPG in development by Forsaken Studios. This week they released a small exploration demo to the public. The team is currently working in Unity for the prototype phase, as a means of saving money. The final game will be made in Havoc.
Here’s a link to their site if you want to check it out.
http://www.embersofcaerus.com/content.php
Here are some screenshots I took in the demo (you can try the demo for free, as long as you have a registered account on the forums).
Just remember, this is still very early rough work.
I’ve spoken of how the medium of video games is often underused in regards to storytelling, however there is another oppurtunity where it so often fails in its endeavors. The realm of education. Extra Credits did a great piece on this, which I will link at the bottom, in which they talk about Tangential learning as opposed to the more traditional shove it down your throat education. But my question is, could video games be the future of science experiments in classrooms?
Love, its one of the greatest, the worst, the most obvious, and the most mysterious of emotions in our arsenal. When you’re in love, you just know it. And when you fall out of love, there’s nothing quite as depressing . But why do we fall in love in the first place? There must be some evolutionary reason, it serves a purpose. Is our brain drugging us?
Well first-off let’s discuss love on a chemical level. From what I can tell, the main culprits in this matter are serotonin and Oxytocin. The serotonin patterns produced from love is much akin to those seen in Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. This explains how you just can’t get that loved one out of your head.(1)
Oxytocin is the chemical released during orgasm, and is attributed to long-term love, beyond the “Honeymoon Phase” of passionate love.(2) We all know that these relationships evolve over time, but it is fairly interesting that the chemicals involved actually do change.
But why? Occam’s Razor points to our need to reproduce to sustain the species. But why does the initial “passionate” period of love only last for a year or so? Maybe it is due to the highly dependent nature of humans at birth. The chemical attempts to keep the parents together long enough to get the child out of infant stage. This could be related to the immediate bond many parents (especially mothers) feel for their children upon birth. Tell me your theories.
The most interesting thing to me is how much Love resembles a drug. When you first taste it, there’s nothing like it. You’ve never been so high in your life. You need more, you need to be around your dealer (loved one) all the time. If you don’t see him/her for a while, you begin to have emotional withdrawals (loneliness, depression, anger). And perhaps the most interesting correlation, you build up a tolerance to it. Hell me and my friends have had to do pseudo interventions over a buddy not getting over a girl.
I know that sounds silly, but consider it. If you’ve been in a long-term relationship, you know it has changed, on a chemical level. You still love them, but it’s not the same as when you first met. Maybe this is why people cheat, they’re looking for that chemical rush they’ve lost somewhere along the way.
So what can be done? Well that’s a bit above my pay grade, but I have some ideas. The most obvious is keep it fresh. Do new things, exciting things. Take a dance class together, make a comic book, try rock climbing, take a great cooking class, do P90x. Your relationship is like a body. You’ve got to keep it active, or problems will hit you down the line.
Beyond that, spicing up your sex life never hurts. Part of this is both of you staying in shape. I know its shallow, but hey, we’re conditioned. Also when you’re in good shape it opens up some… possibilities in the bedroom. This is also a chance to open up to one another, and express your desires. Just don’t make any shocked faces when they tell you their fantasies. Seriously.
So what do you think? Has your brain been throwing you love rock since you were a teenager, or do you have a different view on love? Let me know.
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/11758796 (1)
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/3782434 (2)
Life is a lot faster than it used to be. We can talk to people across the world in a moment, I can get fifty opinions on what would have happened if Hannibal had attacked Rome within a few minutes, hell thanks to video recording, you can see through other people’s eyes. As technology progresses, and our cities expand, we grow more and more interconnected and clustered. So my question is… are we becoming more like insects than mammals?
This is one of the last scenes of Cowboy Bebop, and the last with Spike and Jet. (Spoiler) Julia has just been killed by a Syndicate hit squad, and Spike is going to try and kill Vicious (his former partner when he was in the Syndicate, and now the leader of it.) aware that he’ll die in the process.
He comes back to the Bebop (the ship) one last time, and Jet cooks him up some of his famous Bell Peppers and Beef, without the beef.
I think its an amazing scene, all the more so because they both know its they last time they’ll see each other.
Hope you enjoy it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=si7-GBpm1vU
Here is the follow-up scene with Faye.
Video games and narrative, a story as old as… well sometime in the 1970’s. As video games have developed, the possibilities for simulation and imagination have increased exponentially. Gameplay has been refined, A.I. improved, Graphics skyrocketed, Voice acting honed (sometimes). But there is something missing here… oh… it’s a good story.
“A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon.” – Napoleon Bonaparte
War, war never changes, and it seems the gender that wages it doesn’t either.Up until the 20th Century, females almost never served in their nation’s military. There are of course exceptions, such as Joan of Arc, and other brave women who history has forgotten, but by and large, the battlefield has been a place where men killed men. So my question is, do men love war?
Surrealism is a style of dating back to the early 20th century, with roots in post WWI France. It is one of the most easily recognizable styles, even to laypeople like myself, and has had a massive impact on the world of art and entertainment. But is our world on the verge of becoming a Surrealism Masterpiece?
Musings of Gleip 