Angry Birds - Star Wars edition ... get it ... get it now! ... get it now, you must!

I can't believe I missed a post because I spent last night playing Angry Birds - Star Wars edition. I'm embarrassed. On the plus side, what a fantastic game that is! If you've ever played a knock-down-the-blocks game as a kid, then this is the grown up version on steroids. It has fun puzzles, an engaging play style, and wonderful characters. The Star Wars characters we all love are folded into the world of Angry Birds with love and joy.


Rovio Entertainment

Computer games have been a part of my life since their inception. I particularly love rpg games, but I do enjoy a good action game. Mostly, though, I like puzzle games. There's something especially enjoyable to me when I solve a puzzle in a creative way, or break through a devious plan and come out on top. Maybe it's my way of saying, "Aha! I'm smarter than you!" But, of course, that's the point of a game, in that you beat it. Games aren't much fun if you can't win, and I doubt anyone would play for very long if it is hopeless. You can only beat your screen in frustration for so long before you chunk it and go on to something else.

It's been a pleasure to watch the game industry flex and bend with new technologies. I remember when the first mobile phone games came out, and I did roll my eyes at them. Now, it's a multi-billion dollar industry, with no signs of slowing down. People want something simple they can goof around on for a few minutes (or hours as my case was) and then go about their day. It's great, and I hope it continues for a long time to come.

- M

Ode to my brother

I'm proud of my brother. I'm proud of the things he's done. I'm proud of the man he is. I'm proud to be his younger brother. Like any of us, his life experiences are very different from my own, but we share a family, a love of planes, and a deep respect for our wives and children. I love to brag that he is a pilot (not just any kind of pilot, but an instructor for other pilots while in the Air Force). I'd trust him with my life, the lives of my children and my wife. He'll do everything he can to help, and would give you the shirt off his back without a thought.

My brother with my youngest daughter

Yet, distance separates us. It's impossible to be as close as we'd like. I have visions of family picnics and barbeques, laser tag and trampoline parties. Half a country is a long way, even with the wonders of modern communication. Sadly true, distance makes us lazy in our relationships. I do wish my children knew my brother better. He's a great man, and a great brother. His children adore him, and his wife loves him.

There are precious few real compliments in our world. One of them, is: you're like your brother. I imagine most of us with brothers would take that very well. I love my brother, and I'm proud of him. Perhaps we will spend some more time together in the future. I'd like to think so. Whatever happens, I'm glad he's in my life.

- M

Look out! ... Ah, well, nice try anyway.

Incoming!
photo credit

When you hear someone yell, "Look out," I have to ask, do you look or start running? I've done both and I still haven't decided which is better. On one hand, looking helps you see whatever is a hazard to you, but on the other hand someone yelled a warning clearly because you are in immediate danger. I think the natural inclination for me is to stop and look. Which brings up an interesting question: if nobody shouted out a caution, would you be any more likely to be injured? That's the funny thing about warnings. Sometimes the warning itself is more dangerous than the circumstances. That makes it a paradox of sorts.

In stories, particularly the more visual sorts (like movies and plays), the audience is the one being warned. And there's no greater warning fun than the well-known jump scare. There's typically a loud bang, something leaps out, and basically an unexpected event scares the daylights out of you. What's funny is how the audience nearly always knows it's about to happen. We know the tricks and yet keep falling for the same, "watch out," that is a fake so we don't see the real one sneaking up behind. Probably overused, but it does work.

You can see this happen at any playground. The boys are playing soccer and eventually the ball will go flying, someone yells a warning, and whammo some poor kid gets it right in the face. There's plenty of video proof in those funny clips on the internet. Perhaps we learn this from our parents, because parents love to trick their kids by telling them to look at something and then catching them by surprise. It's a tease. Then, we get a warning to look out and we still suspect a trick. Maybe we just don't consider it really is a ... hey, look out!

- M

Flying. How could it be any better?

Credit: clipartheaven.com

My favorite way to travel by a long shot is flying. I love it. I especially enjoy the blast toward the horizon during takeoff. Mankind has dreamt of soaring the skies for so long, but it's still one of our favorite dreams. I can't count the number of times I've dreamt of flying, and it never gets old.

Psychologists have a raft of reasons for the desire of flight, and I'm not interested at all. What's important to me is how fantastic the feeling of letting go of the ground and drifting on the wings of eagles comes to be. In a plane you only feel the power of the engines and the shuddering of the cabin in flight, but in dreams you feel everything. Skydiving is likely the only thing even coming close to the fun in dreams. There's also a wingsuit which allows you to glide in a kind-of flying sort of way (it's more like falling gracefully).

I think we crave the freedom to fly because we equate it with ultimate freedom of movement. Watching birds fly, I totally understand. It's magical, seeing a creature leap into the air and vanish into the sky. There's joy in those wings of a sort we can only guess. The funny thing is, birds have no idea how special they are and how much we jealously desire their abilities. Maybe it's just our nature to be jealous.

Either way, if you ever have the opportunity to fly (in dreams or otherwise), I highly recommend it. Live a little extra and fly the skies!

- M

What happened to all the goofy, silly, and optimistic shows? Give me a flash of hope!

Yes, this really was a fun television show!

My childhood was filled with crazy television shows that dealt with science fiction in a fun-filled way that didn't take itself too seriously. I know Star Trek (both original and Next Generation) tried, but I think the writers knew very well how to be snarky about it. Misfits of Science, Automan, Probe, and a raft of others. They all were optimistic about our future, and looking forward to new technologies. Despite whatever dangers they may have presented, they all encouraged the drive for better. Unbridled optimism about our future, and rosy expectations, ruled the day.

I know it's more realistic to show the defects and dangers, and I do enjoy those shows, but I also miss the joy of discovery. I yearn for the wide-eyed pleasure watching starships blast through space on voyages into the unknown. Look at Lost in Space, the old show with such a ridiculous concept it couldn't possibly work today, and compare it to newer ones like Firefly or Dark Matter. Dark and gritty, mixed with some wit and comedy, but the blood of pessimism flows throughout. They depict worlds where we only survive and cope, rather than succeed and flourish.

One great example of doing it right is The Flash. It's optimistic to a fault, featuring a cheery view of everything, even failure. Watching the show makes me feel great about the human race. Sure, there's dark times, but the story doesn't dwell on it. There's always an undercurrent of hope. I know nostalgia claims old memories and makes them rosy, but hope is great no matter what. Even when it's goofy, silly, and plain out crazy. Hope is a good thing. Bring it back!

- M

Independence Day

 

Once again we celebrate Independence Day here in the United States of America. It's a special day to play with fireworks, hang out with friends, and pig out on barbeque foods. There's television specials of the various firework shows around the country, big band concerts, and all kinds of frivolity. Hopefully nobody gets hurt as we remember the founding of our precious country.

Yes, I'm a patriot and proud of it. My desire is to pass along a deep love for my country. Your home country should be close to your heart and your prayers. It's important to honor that love. No matter where you live, once a year there's a celebration to remember where it all started. Take the moment to dig into history and really understand the how's and why's. Remember the good and the bad. Unless we actively remember, we risk losing our own history.

So, take part in the celebrations and keep in mind the costs paid by those who strove to build the great country you live in. Especially, remember the heroes and sacrifices, the cost in lives and property. Not everything is perfect, but we can work hard to make it better. Never give up and never surrender.

- M

It's a trap!

One of my favorite storytelling techniques is setting traps. For the hero, or even for the audience. Make something too easy, or too simple, or any kind of exaggeration. Give someone a real reason to believe, and then pull the rug out from under them. It's probably safe to say that audiences are used to this tactic, but it's still fun to ride the crisis wave to whatever conclusion the storyteller has in mind. A good trap can change a mediocre story into a sizzling page-turner and have people banging down the door of a movie theater.

This is similar to the twist ending concept, but doesn't have to be at any particular part of the story. It could actually begin this way, or end it. However it's used, a good trap complicates everything and changes the landscape completely. Think about how incredible the opening scenes of the first Indiana Jones movie would be without the sequence of traps within the Peruvian tomb. That's probably my favorite opening for any adventure story. I still can't get enough of it.

When I was a kid, I drew traps for stick figures who were running down a never-ending hallway. Pits and spikes and cannonballs and all sorts of crazy things. All I really cared about was designing neat ideas and playing with them. Growing up hasn't really dimmed that creativity, though I've maintained a playful streak of practical jokes. The practice also helped teach me the value of false leads and misleading trails. Above all, traps prevent things going stale.

- M