Enjoying God of War

I finally cheated--and the result was wonderful.


Two years ago, my family received a Play Station 2 for Christmas. I even bought a game for myself that tied in to my interests in classical warfare--God of War. It's the story of a Greek soldier and his attempt to defeat the God of War, Ares.


The first two days playing the game were awesome. The storyline was engaging, the mini-movie sequences were done really well, and the game-play wasn't too difficult. (I will say God of War definitely deserves its Mature rating--there's blood everywhere.)


If you noticed, I said the first two days were awesome. The third day, I made it to a three-headed hydra. I fought the thing for two days, dying again and again and again. I could not figure out how to beat it. All I received were sore thumbs and lots of stress. I set the game aside and it collected dust ever since--until three days ago.


My boys found the game, said how cool it looked, and asked if they could play. Since my boys are not mature I said no, but their bringing the game to my attention got me interested in giving it another go.


That night, after fighting and being killed over and over again by the hydra, I googled the simple question: How do I defeat the Hydra in God of War? I thought, I can't be the only one who is having these problems.


Google came back with dozens of hits. Until this game, I'd always thought the game guides and walk throughs were for lazy people. I didn't realize these things were a necessity with today's complex games.

Here are the two websites that have helped me the most:


http://mycheats.1up.com/view/faq/2018842/28144/god_of_war/ps2


http://www.gamerhelp.com/ps2/GodofWar/113360.shtml


God of War has been so enjoyable ever since; the new adventures, new movies, and even a sense of accomplishment. 95% of the scenarios I've gotten through by myself, but when I've gotten stuck for fifteen minutes or so, I hop online again to see what I'm doing wrong.


Just because someone tells you how to do something, doesn't mean it's easy to do - but at least its doable.


My thumbs are happy and I'm enjoying myself.


Isn't that the point of a game?

The exciting world of grocery shopping

Today, I thought I'd either write about tar and feathering the AIG executives or review the movie Race to Witch Mountain. But I figured my experience at the market this week would be more entertaining.


(As an aside, I thought tarring and feathering the AIG execs was better than killing them as Senator Grassley had suggested. As for Witch Mountian, it was good fun. I recommend it.)


So I'm grocery shopping when a call goes out over the store's intercom for free samples of Starbucks. As any prudent man would do in these tough economic times, I quickly made my way to the Starbucks counter for my free Caramel Frappacino. Walking back to my cart, I noticed a makeshift stand where two young ladies stood promoting newspaper subscriptions. On the stand was a bowl filled with orange raffle tickets trying to win a store gift card.


I walked up and asked if I could fill out a ticket. One of the ladies said, "Yes, just write your name and phone number."


When I finished writing my name, one of the ladies said, "Your name and shoe size," and giggled.


Now being a man, I'll admit my writing hand shook for a moment. I hadn't been asked that question since I was in college. But being a fine upstanding citizen, I continued on with my area code. The lady leaned forward to see what I'd written and a hint of lavendar filled the air. "I said name and shoe size." Her tone was playful, .


I lifted up my pen, stood up, and looked at her. Her black pants and top fit her curvacious body well. Combined with her clear caramel skin, great smile and sleek, long hair, my heart increased its beat. I know I have a wife and kids, but what man couldn't get a little excited about a fine looking woman teasing him.


"That's quite bold," I said.


"I know." Her eyes sparkled.


The genie's warning from Aladding flashed through my mind, when he'd taken the form of a fighter pilot crash landing, Warning! Danger! Danger!


I quickly finished my phone number and dropped the ticket in the bowl. At which point she gave her official pitch, then I returned to my cart with my caramel frappacino and a spring in my step.


And no, I didn't subscribe.

Pasadena ArtNight, Spring ‘09

Last night my family went to Pasadena's wonderful ArtNight for the fourth time in 3 years. (http://www.artcenter.edu/artnight/) It’s a bi-annual event put on by the city of Pasadena where it is, according to its flyer, “an evening of free arts and & culture.” That’s right free. Free admission to museums such as the Norton Simon, Pasadena Museum of California Art, and Pacific Asia Museum and venues such as the Pasadena Jazz Institute, Pasadena Symphony and Shumei Arts Council. There are even free shuttles provided by the city to take visitors from place to place.

As we learned during our first visit three years ago, it is impossible to see everything in one night – there are 14 destinations – so plan your itinerary ahead of time.

While we have always had a good time, this time was great. In years past, the only destination focused on children was the Pasadena Central Library (plays, crafts, story time and dance performances). This year my boys really enjoyed the Pacific Asia Museum's Samurai Re-imagined exhibit and live performance of The Cricket on the Mound; the Pasadena Museum of California Art's Mars Orbiter and solar powered robots exhibit as well as its graffiti-art covered garage; and the Shumei Arts Council's awesome Taiko drum and Koto concert. Alas, we only made three venues out of the 14, but what an awesome three!

I can’t wait until the next ArtNight, Friday October 9,2009!

(4 second clip of Makoto Taiko)

Full Service

I was driving through the tree-lined streets of San Marino when I realized I was driving on fumes. I pulled into the first gas station I saw, a former Union 76 that had been whitewashed and now had someone’s name on it. Great, I thought, it’s one of those generic gas stations where they probably cut their gas with water. But whether it was the crappiest sludge in L.A. or not, I needed fuel right then and there.

So I pulled up to the pump and got of my car, only to see a man in a black sweatshirt standing beside my car’s gas tank.

“Fill ‘er up or how much do you want?” he said.

I stared at him dumbfounded. Transient who wants to pump my gas for a tip? I thought. But he didn’t look like a transient. His clothes were clean and he was freshly shaved, and it was San Marino after all. I looked at the gas pump and noticed there was no slot for a credit card or numbered keypad. About the time he asked me how much again, I saw the collared shirt beneath his sweatshirt and realized he was a gas station attendant.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I did not realize I was in full service.” There was a .40 cent difference between self- and full-service.

I turned to open my car door, when he said, “No I’ll fill it up for that price,” and he pointed to a big white and blue sign on the street corner that listed the self-service price. I said are you sure? He said yeah. (I know, lame question on my part.)

So he stuck in the pump and walked up to a Mercedes parked in front of me that he had just serviced. He handed the driver a blue plastic clipboard with a credit card stuck in the top, waited for her to sign, then returned to his little booth as the car drove away.

Hmmm. Interesting.

Then a black Suburban pulled up across from me. The attendant walked up to the driver’s door as a middle-aged woman opened it to get out. A blankness came over her face, then a clenched jaw, then a confused acceptance that he wasn’t going to mug her, as he explained he was going to pump her gas—a sequence of expressions that had probably mimicked my own.

Mind you, this whole time I had been standing outside my car unsure what to do with myself. I didn’t feel like getting in my hot car and just sitting there. It seemed foolish. Although looking back, it probably looked more foolish standing beside my door watching a gas station attendant make his rounds.

When my gas pump dinged, the attendant came over, topped it off, and asked for my credit card. At this point, all the wonderful horror stories and warnings of stolen credit card numbers came rushing through my head. Don’t let your credit card leave your sight, much less your possession. Did he have one of those little copiers over there, so he could make a duplicate of my card? Was he planning a trip to Vegas?

After someone had used one my credit cards for an extravagant trip to Vegas, I’d been extremely vigilant on where my cards went. But I was stuck. I didn’t have any cash and I had to pay somehow, so with a sense of dread, I handed over my card.

He came back a minute later, my card stick sticking out of the little plastic tray with a receipt to sign: just how it was done when I was a kid. At this point, I thought, hey, this is kinda cool.

I said thanks and was on my way. Although, I was left wondering if my card was about to fund someone else’s trip to Vegas, or if I just had a very nice unexpected experience. I’ll wait until my next credit card statement to see if I’ll visit that gas station again.

Books Into Movies

I received the Watchmen graphic novel for Christmas and for the first time in a long time, read a book before the movie came out. While the novel's good, albeit very "graphic" (see my review), I feel a little bummed out when I see the movie previews. It looks like an amazing movie with great special effects, but I already know what's going to happen. Even worse, I read a review in the L.A. Times where the director mentioned how he tried to be faithful to every page of the comic. Where's the fun in watching the movie if you know every intricate plot twist?

Going the opposite direction, I just started The Golden Compass on the recommendation of a friend. I read to page 32 and had to put the book down. I've seen the movie and know exactly what's going to happen. I keep trying to tell myself, this minor part wasn't in the movie, or I couldn't know Lyra's thought process before, or the writing is good, but I found myself spending an inordinate amount of energy trying to pretend and hope that the book would be different. Not the way I want to spend a week or so of the precious little free time I have in my life.

Bummer.

Book Review: The Killer Angels

Solid historical novel. It gave me a very good understanding of the motivations and rationale of the key generals at the Battle of Gettysburg. Sometimes motivations don't come across in a history book. But here, in a novel, Shaara was able to tell the reader why each man thought the decision he made was a good one, and if he followed a decision that he felt was bad, why he followed it.
The fight scenes themselves were taut, gripping and emotional: Buford's defense, Little Round Top, Pickett's charge.
Some of the introspection, which was great and provided so much insight into the characters, could get a little long.

The Killer Angels is a really good read if you have any interest in the Civil War.