1999! ...I get the feeling this is going to be a bad
year, ...very bad indeed.
In case anyone will be in the area, I'm heading for the
Great White North on the last weekend in February for the GamesCon Extravagancy
(http://www.gamescon.com/page.cfm). They've asked me to talk about level designing or some
shit, but I told them it would be better if I shared my experiences with submarine hunting
in the Cold War or cultivating Californian Salad in cold New England.
I can't just leave you with that, though, so here's a
little pre-Levelord story. It's from a time long ago, before I saw the light and became a
level designer, ...I was a bit jockey, actually. I am reminded of this story because I
just replaced the old `89 Yoter van with a brand new `99 one. A little tear of
times-gone-by welled in my eye as I looked in my new rearview mirror at that old, decrepit
van in the used car lot. What a great car... ...slammed at 50+ mph into two highway
embankments and starts right back up again, three oil changes in 81K miles of driving, 1
1/2 times across the country, never ever washed, not once... ...comfortable as a crib in
the back while sleeping off Russian Potato Juice binges... ...what a great car she was!
Leaving her in that lot reminded of a lot of days past
and, in particular, my first near-death experience with her. This was back in 1994 while I
was working at Bauer Aerospace in Connecticut. Bauer is a medium-sized company and we
often got together after work on Fridays to... ...well, reinforce the esprit de corp.
Once, we decided to make a ski trip to a local mound for one of the first cool snowstorms
of the year. I had never been downhill skiing before, but I had laid a few miles of cross
country back in my California days. I figure downhill must be the ultimate, though... ...I
mean, any sport where they drag my ass up the mountain and I slide back down sounds cool
to me ;)
Anyhow, about 30 of us made plans to meet at the lodge
and get one of the package lift deals. The group had to be of a certain size and, more
importantly to the gist of this story, we all had to get there before 7pm. As magical as
it was, the `89 Yoter van had its downfalls. Going up newly snow-covered hills was one of
them. As one of its few design flaws, it had rear wheel drive but the engine, driver, and
anything else of significant weight were all the way up front and directly on top of the
front axle. I had also removed all the back seats for more horizontal comfort. The lack of
traction would prove fatal to our company's little ski excursion.
There was indeed a rather nasty, snow-covered, mile-long
hill that led up to the lodge's parking lot. There were a lot of people heading for the
slopes on this first Frinight skiing of the year. I wasn't the only one having trouble
negotiating the hill, but I was the only one that absolutely needed to maintain momentum
and not stop midway up if I was to make it to the top. No such luck... ...about two thirds
the way up, around a bend that blocked the view from the bottom of the hill, the entire
line of traffic came to a stop... ...and so did the pre-Levelord, for good!
Once I had lost inertia, I was totally stuck... ...rear
wheels spinning frantically as I tried to friction them down to the pavement. A few
minutes went by, but to no avail. I became truly scared by the ever-lengthening queue of
cars below and the lack of anyone else ahead to share the culpability of the grand stall
mid-stream. I gave up all hope of proceeding forward and began a good 10-15 minutes of
ultimately embarrassing and truly fearful pitching, yawing, and even pushing the van from
the side trying to maneuver 180 degrees back around.
I finally got turned around and was determined to head
straight home, close the curtains, and hide in the dark for a few days. Fortunately, none
of my co-workers were in view of this whole event, and I only had to worry about the irate
strangers following me home. On the way down, past the bend in the hill, at least three
cars asked me "What the hell is going on up there!". The pre-Levelord, thinking
quickly, replied "I don't know... ...some ASSHOLE is stuck up there and noone can get
through!". The line of cars, BTW, now extended some three miles (no shit, I was
watching the odometer) down. I didn't go skiing for a year!
SiNdrome Trauma Period
SiNdrome Trauma Period
SiNdrome Trauma Period
SiNdrome Trauma Period
SiNdrome Trauma Period
SiNdrome Trauma Period
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Shopping on Figuroa... ...I was reminded of another
story Dick told me a bit ago, and since there's so much free time lately, I thought I'd
share it. This one took place back in 1986 while he and a childhood friend of his were
living in Los Angeles. Dick was going to school to
get a cool engineering degree and his friend, Deter, had just recently moved to LA to take
a new engineering job. This is important because it explains why neither could afford any
substantial amount of Californian Salad and had to make weekly trips downtown for their
quick, tin foil-wrapped refills.
Shopping on Figueroa was usually pretty cool and easy...
...slide up curbside in the auto, wave a hand, and three or more Entrepreneuritos would
rush up and trade a small clump of tin-foiled wacky weed in exchange for a mere $10.
However, this one trip, and their last to Figueroa, would prove much more exciting.
Deter was a fairly big dude and was in fairly good shape.
He was also raised in a meager Irish Catholic household with six other siblings.
Translation... ...Deter was not afraid of too much that met him, to the point of being
senseless sometimes.
Instead of the usual drive-in service, this last visit to
Figueroa started with Deter having to actually get out of the car and walk to the
dilapidated building housing the street vendors. Dick, BTW, was driving his father's
fairly new car, as his own Nova had recently blow-up, ...literally. Deter proceeding to
the house, about 1/2 a block up the street from where Dick was parked.
Dick, anticipating a wait, turned on the radio and kicked
back with a mule. No sooner had he lit his cigarette than Deter came running by the car at
full speed yelling "Dick! Dick! Get going! Now!!!". Directly behind Deter
followed four homies and they were gaining on Deter fast.
Dick, thinking quickly as any good Dick will do, jammed
the ignition and floored the Buick out and into the street. He needed a quick 180 and
fortunately there was an empty lot just ahead... ...unfortunately, Figueroa was a one way
street. No matter, when a friend is in as much need as Deter seemed to be... ...the
adrenaline rushed and Dick pulled into the lot to set up for his daring rescue. Thanking
god that American cars still had read wheel drive, he fish tailed a beautiful
half-doughnut, spewing dust and dirt into a big feather-shaped cloud, and got back onto
Figueroa in less than a second. Figueroa was, again thanking all deities, fairly empty of
what would be oncoming traffic.
Starksy and Hutching it a block down to Olympic, Dick
re-entered correct traffic and he soon caught up to Deter. The Chinos were fast on him and
Deter's left sneaker flew off his foot just as Dick caught up to him. The Homies were a
mere few feet behind Deter by this time. Dick reached over, frantically opened the
passenger door, and yelled for Deter's attention. Still going a good 5 mph, Deter leaped
into the car and Dick floored it to safety.
It turns out that this whole ordeal was because Deter
didn't like the visual quality of the Salad he had bought and wanted his $10 back. After
asking for the refund and being refused, ...laughed at, actually, he evidently just
grabbed the 10 spot from the net stocking-headed hood and ran. Ten bucks and a clump of
horse weed... ...Dick risks his dad's Buick through a half dozen near misses, Deter his
very flesh and blood... ...and all for a meager ten bucks! Not much of a story, I know,
but a message just the same... ...Drugs are badddd, mmmmkay?!
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