A Football Primer, Part 3: Know Thine Offense

Part 1: Your Sports All Suck is here.

Part 2: The Basics is here.

Football has perhaps the most specialized positions of any sport this side of Synchronized Assembly Line Carmaking. Positions are specialized to the point where players in different positions have vastly different physiques.

For example, the player on the far left is a Wide Receiver. The player next to him is a Linebacker. The player on the right is a Quarterback. The player in the middle is a total lardass.

Before we get into the specific positions, a quick word about football strategy. We'll get further in depth on this at another time, but for now you need to know the following:

The offense can move the ball by running with it or passing it. Defending against one is very different from the other, and much of football strategy revolves around fooling the defense into defending one while you do the other.

And now, the positions:


Note that while the players will line up in many different formations (the above is called an "I formation" because the QB, FB and HB make an "I") and sets (for example, replacing the TE and FB with Wide Receivers), their relative positions are usually pretty close to the above.

The Quarterback

The quarterback is the offense's leader on the field, the one who communicates the plays from the coach to the rest of the team and calls out the snap count that tells the Center when to hike the ball. They have to be smart, poised, and able to throw the ball really far and really accurately. Being able to run around some (being a "mobile quarterback") is useful, but not strictly necessary. QBs are tall, handsome, usually somewhat bland pretty boys who tend to scream "Not in the face!" a lot. They are also better paid than everyone else on the team, and the offense is crippled without a good one. In D&D terms, they are Human Warlords.

The Runningback



The runningback (technically the halfback, but nobody calls them that) is the primary guy who runs the ball. Most running plays will involve the quarterback handing the ball to this guy, who then plows ahead for three to four yards. They're also used as short-yardage pass receivers and extra blockers (to protect the QB) on pass plays. RBs are fast, short, and powerful, and tend to be the ones you can win on Madden with all the time just by picking Clinton Portis and hitting the A button repeatedly. They tend to like hitting people with their bodies, even when those people are bigger than them. In D&D terms, they are Half-Orc Barbarians.

The Fullback


The fullback is a big, powerful running player whose primary duty is usually to punch open holes for the runningback. Occasionally, they will catch a pass, just to fake everybody out. The are big, thundering running machines who like to take care of the smaller RB and QB. In D&D terms, FBs are Sweetums from the Muppets.

The Wide Receiver



Wide receivers are the primary receivers on passing plays, although they may throw a block every now and then if they think they won't break a nail. They are incredibly fast, self-centered showboats who think that every ball should be thrown to them. In D&D terms, they are snooty dual-wielding Elf Rangers who think they can do anything, and sometimes in fact do something pretty spectacular, but usually just whine about how they're not getting hasted by the party's wizard enough.

And there isn't a Wide Receiver in the league who wouldn't legally change his name to "Ithandir, Blade of Eternity" if he thought he could get away with it.

The Tight End

The tight end is a mix between a receiver and a blocker, although the second and third tight ends are usually just blockers they bring in on running plays who may catch a pass, but only if God demands it outright, in tripilicate. They are big, but fast and athletic, and have good hands. In D&D terms, they are multiclassed Goliath Fighter/Barbarians.

The Offensive Line


The offensive line -- made up of the center, the offensive tackles, and the offensive guards -- is the rolling wall of living flesh that protects the quarterback and opens up holes for the running backs to run through. On running plays, you'll see them trying to push the defensive linemen forward. On passing plays, you'll see them giving ground as slowly as possible to protect the quarterback. They are huge, and they pretty much never touch the ball on purpose. They are made for one purpose and one purpose alone: to pull aggro. Unlike defensive linemen, however, offensive linemen have to be smart, as there are often intricate blocking schemes they have to learn and change on the fly.

The center has the additional responsibility of hiking - passing or handing - the ball to the quarterback or punter on every play. He then immediately gets his face smashed in just like all the other linemen. This is difficult, especially on long snaps. The center is often the leader of the line -- he's the guy you see pointing at different defensive linemen and saying things like "Right Tackle -- sic balls!" before every play.

In D&D terms, the offensive line are Hyperintelligent Armored Hippos who have learned to wield axes and taken up the class of Fighter. The center is the same, only he's a Paladin.

Next Time: The Defense and Special Teams

-- The Prolix Wag
Ask any offensive lineman; he'll tell you the same thing.

Linky Linky Sunday: Flash Games Edition

Having put in countless hours of research, I think it's about time I shared some of my accumulated wisdom and gave out the links for some of my favorite free-to-play flash games. All the links below are to Kongregate, a cool gaming site that lets you track achievements for most games through their "badge" system, as well as donate to the developers of games you like. All of these are worth playing. In no particular order, I give you:

CycloManiacs

Battalion Arena

Gemcraft chapter 0

Amorphous+

Dolphin Olympics 2

The Last Stand 2

Bubble Tanks 2

The Visitor

Desktop TD Pro

Boxhead 2Play Rooms

Portal: The Flash Version

Enjoy!

-- The Prolix Wag
Crippling carpal-tunnel syndrome is a small price to pay for unlocking all the horns on CycloManiacs.

D&D Will Eat Your Children

Sweet Jesus, here we go again.

And in Cedar City, no less. The city where I spent three lovely summers Shakespearifying and Dungeon Mastering. Hell, the year after that I was flown in for the express purpose of running a D&D game. And making out with my girlfriend at the time. Who I suspect was in it mainly for the D&D anyway.

We'll start with Penny Arcade's take, because it's brilliant:

It got me thinking about D&D's storied history of causing insanity in people who never actually play it. Although the game-blame isn't nearly as blatant and hysterical as its been in the past, there's something in the reporting that makes one's head twitch to the left in quizzical annoyance:

"Testimony Monday suggested a motive for the attacks may have grown from the trio playing the fantasy role-playing game "Dungeons and Dragons" and jealousy over a girl who King and Bryson knew."

It just doesn't scan right if you substitute "the live-action sports game 'football'". One could have a disagreement/motive for manslaughter that started over a game of football, started at a game of football, maybe even was a direct result of events that took place during a game of football, but "the motive for the attacks may have grown from the trio playing football"? Not so much.

Setting aside the fact that they chose gaming as the lead over the girl -- and as any fool knows, the hoohah is much stronger than the dice -- there's a nasty little insinuation there about the origin of the hammer-beating motive.

Combining the power of the hoohah with the power of the dice, of course, is the most powerful force in the universe.

Because to imply that a game like football might have directly caused someone to beat someone else with a hammer by its very existence and intrinsic nature would be ridiculous, right?

But you can do that with D&D. Still. I honestly thought we were past this. Well, I thought we should be past it. I guess there's a reason I felt it necessary to address the stupidity of the James Dallas Egbert Steam Tunnel Incident in my play Of Dice and Men. In my heart of hearts, I knew there was more educating to do. People still want scapegoats. And my chosen hobby is just weird enough to be a perennial favorite.

All while this bastard still walks the streets, free as a bird.

-- The Prolix Wag
Marcie, get out of here. YOU'RE DEAD! You don't exist any more.

Paging Dr. Mario

There's a fascinating piece in the Washington Post today about the possible therapeutic uses for video and computer games.

As I have alluded to previously, this doesn't really come as much of a surprise to me.

Looking back, I've been using computer games (and, to a lesser extent, arcade games and consoles) to manage my mood going back at least as far as college, and probably longer. When my high school sweetheart broke my tender young heart Freshman year, I sought some solace by sobbing dramatically in front of friends and classmates, but also by spending some time in the arcade at the Student Union. Far more serious chunks of time than I might spend otherwise... and given how hard I used to hit the Tekken machine, that's saying something.

Just as with any other artistic medium, gaming can lead you to a host of different emotional states, but there are some that are more common and consistent:

There's the heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping Jesus-Christ-shoot-all-the-zombies kind of excitement.

There's creeping, Jesus-Christ-I-just-know-there's-a-zombie-behind-that-door-and-I-only-have-three-bullets-left dread.

There's the sudden shock of abject JESUSCHRISTITSAZOMBIEBLAMBLAMBLAM terror.

There's the pleasant panic of the Jesus-Christ-how-can-I-make-a-stack-of-blue-zombies-when-all-it-gives-me-are-red-ones variety.

There's the addictive sweetness of Jesus-Christ-my-zombie-just-leveled!

Occasionally, there's even the jaw-dropping emotional pang of the Jesus-Christ-my-SISTER-is-the-zombie?-type plot twist.

This extended metaphor has been brought to you by Zombie Kitty, and the fact that video games have a crapload of zombies in them.

There's also the Zen-like no-thought state the Washington Post article above refers to; where you're balanced right on the edge of being challenged just enough but not too much, so that your mind is occupied but you don't have to think. It's a pleasant absence of thought and feeling that you can access most easily with varied-repetitive-action games like Tetris or Bejeweled, but that you can get from almost any genre if the game is good and you're good enough at it. Your mind and self slip away... it's actually quite a bit like a meditative state.

Which makes it a highly desirable way to be if you don't want to think or feel. Which, if you're depressed, you often don't.

This is not to say that it addresses any of the underlying causes of an imbalanced mood, but it gives you time, which is all you need if you're furious and need to calm down, or need to get over that high school sweetheart without crying in public so much, or are thinking about killing yourself and your doc won't pick up the phone until the morning.

People have used emotionally-numbing pharmaceuticals and activities like this for centuries, the most obvious example probably being booze. Video games have the benefit of not destroying your liver, and not being physically addictive.

Although, as my parents can attest, psychological addiction is another matter entirely.

This is not to say that the way I've used games has always been healthy - far from it - and I certainly have taken some long-term physical damage in terms of my carpal tunnel issues. But compared to booze or coke or even sex, gaming looks pretty good as a way to self-medicate. Which we all need from time to time.

I'll be interested to see what the medical community does with it, especially as our understanding of the way the brain works gets deeper and more specific. Who knows? Maybe someday, someone will hand you a prescription that says Take 2 Hours of Dawn of War 5 and Call Me In the Morning.

And what a sweet day that'll be. Talk about not needing a spoonful of sugar...

-- The Prolix Wag
Jesus-Christ-IS-a-Zombie!!!

AAAAAAH!!!

10 Boardgames You Need to Play Right Now, You Stupid Monopoly Monkey, Part 3

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Hidden the bodies? Found new friends to play with? Good, let's get back to it:

6) Agricola


Welcome to Puerto Rico on steroids.

Thought it couldn't get any better, didn't you? So did I, once upon a time. Ah, yes, I was young and foolish once, too. But like you, I had a hunger for something more than Sorry, more than Mousetrap, more than Trivial Pursuit. I had the Eye of the Tiger (Boardgame Edition). I can see that you do, too.

This time around, instead of trying to become governor of Puerto Rico, you're trying to feed your family as a subsistence-level medieval farmer. Which, as you know by now, doesn't matter a lick, right? Fluff is for sissies. What matters is that you're playing Puerto Rico, only there are about seven times as many jobs to pick from, and they include things like having babies so you can have more workers in your family so you can have more chances to pick more jobs. If your head didn't just explode from the awesomeness of that thought, I have failed completely as a teacher.

Buy it here.

That's right, a $70 boardgame (well, $47 on Amazon, which is awesome, but let's not quibble). And you're no longer looking at it thinking, "How could people spend $70 on a boardgame?"... you're thinking "Where do I get my hands on $70, and how much are the custom-made extra deluxe wooden sheep and cows?" You've come a long way. I'm so proud. *sniff*

7) Race for the Galaxy

Welcome to Puerto Rico as a card game, with a twist.

The twist being that you reveal your job picks simultaneously, and that you're taking over PLANETS, and going PEWPEWPEW! a lot.

Even the cat wants to take over PLANETS, man.

Wait, didn't I said that fluff doesn't matter?

Ah, Grasshopper, like all great teachers, I have lied to you, so that you might see deeper truths. Fluff matters a great deal as long as it's got some great gameplay underneath. Especially if that gameplay reinforces the fluff.

Buy it here. The expansions are also worth picking up.

But wait: did somebody say "gameplay reinforcing fluff?"

I believe they did. Which makes it time to taste the flavor of:

8) Arkham Horror

You may not know who H. P. Lovecraft is. That's okay; we'll take care of that part of your education at a later date. For the moment, suffice to say that he's the Father of Modern Horror Fiction. Thought that was Poe, didn't you? Nope. Poe is more like the Great Uncle of Modern Horror Fiction, Who Was Rich and Left It a Lot of Money. But that's neither here nor there. Prepare yourself for two to three hours of getting your face chewed off by mind-bending Horrors From Beyond Space and Time.

Along with your family and friends.

That's right, this is a co-op game. You and your friends are investigators from various walks of life in 1920s New England, in a race against time, trying to close and seal enough Gates to Beyond before the Great Old One shows up and... well, eats everything. The game absolutely drips with flavor, from the spooky board to the terrifying Events written down on the Way Too Many Cards, to the way someone winds up going insane every five minutes. There are very few games out there where you can have this much fun losing.

Also, it's about as close to a Role-Playing Game as you can get without actually playing one, and will tenderize you nicely should you decide to make the leap to the even deeper waters of Dungeons and Dragons.

What's that? Ah, yes, you noticed. You have dice now. It's as I told you: once you needed them, you would no longer want them. You have been liberated from the Chains of Randomization, so you may use the dice, instead of the other way around. Also, there is no spoon.

Buy it here. Be forewarned, though: you will need a large table to play on, especially if you buy one of the innumerable (yet still awesome) expansions. Also, buying a small fishing tackle box at Target or someplace similar is a really good idea; god bless Fantasy Flight, but they cannot resist making a little cardboard piece for every conceivable purpose, and then making twelve dozen more. You won't be able to fit it all back into the box without bending time and space, and we've seen from playing the game itself what the consequences of that are.

9) War of the Ring
Now we're getting into perfect-marriage-of-form-and function territory.

You'd think it would be impossible to make one game that simulates both the War of the Ring (with the huge armies of Orcs and Elves and whatnot crashing against each other) and the Other War of the Ring (with the scruffy band of Hobbits sneaking around and crying every time Gandalf gets killed). But no, they did it, and they did it brilliantly. As the Good Guys, you cannot hope to win a military victory; you have to keep the Armies of Darkness at bay just long enough for the Hobbits to do their job. As the All-Seeing Eye, you have to keep the Hobbits delayed long enough to crush all military resistance and render their mission moot. And it comes down to the wire pretty much every time. Taut, razorwire pacing and all kinds of cool plastic bits round out the package. I don't get to play this one nearly enough.

Buy it here. Bit of advice: the Nazgul on Flappy Things pieces are incredibly annoying, as not only do they keep falling over, but they knock all your Haradrim and Warg Riders nine ways to Sunday when they do it. Superglue a nickel to the bottom of each one. Works like a charm.

10) Battlestar Galactica


Welcome to Nirvana, Grasshopper. Well-designed, well-balanced mechanics. A co-op game where a third of the players are actually killer robots trying to blow everyone else up. Where half of them are sleeper agent robots that don't actually know they're on the other side until halfway through the game.

And it's FRAKKIN' BATTLESTAR GALACTICA.

Some of the best storytelling moments I've ever had have come from playing this game. Where else can you be President Roslin, beg an extra action off of Apollo to take care of the three Cylon Boarding Parties on board, use it to throw him in the brig instead, blow up the Armory with three people in it, then escape to the Cylon fleet, laughing maniacally all the way?

With this game, I have given you the power to blow mens' minds. Use it wisely, use it often, use it well.

Buy it here.

-- The Prolix Wag
What do you mean "Because you're ALWAYS a Cylon"?

10 Boardgames You Need to Play Right Now, You Stupid Monopoly Monkey, Part 2

Part 1 is here.

We begin our lesson with a clear table, a clear mind, and a crapload of games you just got by blowing the kids' college fund on Amazon. They'll get over it. Like all great sensei through the ages, I begin by robbing you of all that binds you to the past; I sweep you clean, creating a tabula rasa upon which I may scribe the new you.

So, no dice.

Also, no board.

That's right: we start our list of Board Games You Need to Play Right Now with a card game, bitches. Did I just blow your mind?

1) Bohnanza


3-5 players, simple enough for the whole family to play, homicidal green bean on the box cover. Play it, live it, love it. You're supposed to be planting rows of beans or something, but they're crazy German beans, and it doesn't matter anyway, because what matters is that the core gameplay mechanics are solid as steel. There have been a bazillion expansions and variations, but they all play roughly the same: you will find yourself learning simple (if slightly strange) rules, cards will be flung about the table, beans will be stacked and grouped and planted, and then shortly thereafter you will be having insane amounts of fun, and you won't quite be able to point to why. I'll give you a hint: it's not the cartoon beans. It's because you've started playing the kind of game where they print the name of the designer above the title.

That's right, children: in some countries, they actually design their games. Some of those designers are so good, I'll buy a game sight unseen if it's got their name on it. It's a lot like having a movie with a director: they're not all good, but it at least creates a chance that the experience won't suck completely.

Unlike, say, anything Milton Bradley publishes.

Buy it here.

2) Carcassonne


Okay, still no board, and no dice, but let's take those cards and upgrade them into cardboard tiles. I'll also let you have some pieces, but I will not hesitate to take them away if I feel you're abusing the privilege.

2-5 players, still simple enough for all but the youngest players, you're building a city in medieval Europe, blahblahblah. Or, if you prefer, you can be hunting mammoths and shit. Ultimately, it really doesn't matter, because again, we're talking solid core gameplay mechanics. It's a topography/territory grabbing game, not unlike Go in some respects, but you don't need to worry your pretty little head about that. Just play, and thank me later. Or send money. You know what? Just send the money.

Buy it here.

3) Ticket to Ride


That's right! I'm letting you have a board. Still no dice, though. You could do all kinds of harm to yourself. This game is all about laying train tracks across the United States; you can also get the sequel, which lets you do it across Europe. Or Switzerland, or Norway, or you can get the Super Train Nerd version. Whatever floats your boat. 2-5 players, insanely easy to learn, very hard to master, and will have you at your friends' and family's throats in no times because they cut you out of Pittsburgh. You're welcome.

Buy it here.

4) Pandemic


YOU WILL HAVE DICE WHEN YOU CAN SNATCH THEM FROM MY HAND AND NOT A MOMENT BEFORE! Do you think you can take me? Do you?

Well, alright then. Moving on.

Allow me to introduce you to a little thing called a co-op game. That's right: you don't get one winner when you play this game. You all win, or you all lose, together. Given that it's about saving the world from a global pandemic of... well, everything, that makes a great deal of sense. It also makes for an entirely different, and very, very fun, gameplay dynamic. Don't get me wrong: competition, and the resulting resentment, can be fun and even healthy, but sometimes you want to do things as a team, especially when you're playing with your family. Also, I can say from personal experience that it just plain gets boring winning all the time. This way, I am still be the smartest and prettiest person in the room, but I'm lauded for it instead of resented.

Well, maybe lauded and resented.

I can live with it.

Amazon doesn't seem to stock Pandemic. Buy it at your local game store, or here.

5) Puerto Rico


You don't even miss the dice any more do you? I didn't think so.

Okay, now we're hitting the big leagues. This is the first game on this list you'll have to play a couple times before you really get the hang of it. But you will love it. Every nongamer I've gotten to sit through their first game of this has been frothing at the mouth for their second. Hell, my sister loves this game.

It's about growing stuff on plantations in Puerto Rico and shipping it back to the Old Country, but by this point you know better than to care about stuff like that, right? You want to know about how you get to pick one "job" a turn, and that determines what everyone does that turn, only you get to do it better, because you picked the job. And then the next player picks the Ship's Captain, and everything ships before your corn was ready, and you reach across the table and tear their throat out with your hands, and for the first time in your life, you know what it means to be alive, really alive, manslaughter charges be damned, and no jury would convict you anyway, because they picked Ship's Captain and you would have had, like eight corn ready to go in just one more turn.

That bittersweet, coppery taste in your mouth? That's probably blood. But underneath that? That's the taste of fun.

And it only gets better from here.

Oh, and buy it here.

-- The Prolix Wag
Touch that Construction Hut token and I will rip your arm clean off. I swear it.

10 Boardgames You Need to Play Right Now, You Stupid Monopoly Monkey, Part 1

Most Americans think of boardgames as kid stuff, or at best, teenage-geek-boy-stuff (re: RISK). One could blame them, but, philistines that they are, they are not really at fault. They have been raised to think that Monopoly is a good game. When, in fact, Monopoly is not a game at all. It is a dice-rolling exercise created by Satan to spread human misery and strife.

I thrive on the taste of human souls. Tee hee!

First created in 1904 (under the name "The Landlord Game"), sales of Monopoly really took off during the Depression, probably because people needed imaginary soul-crushing despair and boredom to distract them from the real soul-crushing despair and boredom all around them.

Every game of Monopoly ever played has gone like this:

1) Yay! We're going to play Monopoly. I hope I get to be the racecar!

2) People are buying stuff. How exciting!

3) I just passed go and collected $200. How gratifying!

4) Most of the stuff has been bought. Things are really heating up!

5) Someone landed on someone else's stuff. The owner of said stuff has now started winning.

6) They're winning more.

7) Huh. They're still winning.

8) Yep. Still winning.

9) I'm going to go get a snack. Let me know if they stop winning while I'm gone.

10) Yeah, sorry. Mom called while I was in the kitchen. I kinda got into the conversation. Did you know my little cousin Kevin is going to college this Fall? Isn't that crazy? What? Two hours? Really? Well, thanks for playing my piece for me. Are they still winn--? Wow. They still are. I guess I'll... sit down and... play, then.

11) Dear Diary: Just passed Go again. My fingers are numb. Tell Laura I love her.

12) JESUS CHRIST WILL THE MADNESS NEVER END? WILL WE NEVER SEE THE DAWN!?!

13) Oh, look at that. They won.

14) Honey, I want a divorce.

Feverish delusions of apophenia aside, there is no goddamn strategy to Monopoly. There is no actual decision-making on the part of the players. There is the illusion of such ("Railroads are a good deal! Utilities are a bad deal! I feel just like Sun Tzu!"), but let's face it, it all comes down to the dice. Monopoly is essentially Craps, except without the glamor, and you can't buy a hooker with the proceeds if you win. The only important decision you ever make is which piece to play. As we all know, you should always go with race car or terrier, and never shoe, thimble, or hat.

The retarded monopoly pieces.

Compounding this is the gameplay dynamic outlined above, where you can predict the winner of a given Monopoly game approximately thirteen hours before the end. If someday you try to design a game to produce the opposite of fun, good luck doing better. The thought that such an inelegant, un-fun artistic abortion even exists gives game designers the shivers. The fact that most Americans consider it a game at all drives most of them to deep despair. The thought that it has sold bazillions of copies, and that many people actually play it on a regular basis, drives many of them to suicide.

Oh, quick side note for those semi-geeks out there who are feeling all superior about playing RISK instead: RISK is the same thing, only you can see who's going to win as soon as they pick Australia.

"Hm. Can I win by attacking Kamchatka, or Yakutsk? Oh, that's right: I've already lost. I'm playing RISK!"

Other countries, especially Germany for some reason, are under no such delusions. They know a good game when they see one. They play games that are games, by god, and they have fun doing it. They play them at all ages, in all social settings, and their lives are richer for it. Some of us have plumbed the depths of these foreign gaming cultures, and have come back with forbidden lore that can save us all from crap like Monopoly. There are worlds undreamed of in your philosophy, Horatio, and you and your family could be having fun in them on a Thursday night. Tomorrow, I shall lay out for you a list of such treasures.

Until then, go to your closet, get down your Monopoly board, take it out in the back yard, and burn it. You'll not only feel better; you'll be a better human being.

-- The Prolix Wag
Candyland? CANDYLAND?!? I swear to god, if you weren't three, I would smack you in the mouth for even saying that word.

How to Adapt Anything Into Anything

The absolute best movie adaptation of one of Shakespeare's works is, bar none, no doubt, gainsay-me-and-I'll-smack-you-in-the-mouth certain, Akira Kurosawa's Ran.

I'm certain there will be some Branagh-sniffers out there who will whine about his Henry V or (god forbid) his Hamlet, but there are always mouth-breathing philistines in any debate, no matter how obvious the outcome. Don't get me wrong, I love me some Branagh, but everyone knows the list of Best Shakespeare Movies goes like this:

1) Ran
2) Throne of Blood
3) Olivier's Henry V
4) MacKellan's Richard III
5) Olivier's Richard III
6) Scotland, PA
7) West Side Story
8) 10 Things I Hate About You
9) Strange Brew (It's an adaptation of Hamlet -- look it up.)
10) Anything by Kenneth Branagh. Except Hamlet. Because that sucked.

Well, everybody knows that, of course. But what a lot of people don't get is why Ran is so freaking fantastic, so incredibly successful in capturing the essence of King Lear on film. Well, here's why:

Because the whole damn thing is in Japanese. And therefore doesn't contain a lick of Shakespeare's dialogue.

(This is known in some circles as the "Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet would have been an awesome silent movie" rule.)

The mistake most people make when adapting something from one medium to another is that they base the adaptation on the surface elements of the original work; the shiny-pretties that strike a casual reader/viewer/audience member as "cool". The problem is, what works in one medium seldom works in another.

Shakespeare is a prime example. As I noted in First Thing We Do, Let's Kill All the English Majors, blank verse works like gangbusters on stage. Don't know why, but it does. It soars, it flies, it takes off like a giant goddamn bird if you deliver it right. On screen? On the page? Blechy-blechitty-blech-blech. Utter crap.

Similarly, giant explosions (preferably with the hero and his sidekick jumping to safety in slow motion in front of them) work wonderfully on screen. On stage? On the page? Yeah, not so much.

Which is why Kurosawa's decision to jettison all the dialogue in King Lear was key to making his film so damn brilliant. He turns the daughters into sons! Regan and Goneril are one guy! There's a freaky buddhist nun that you're all, like, "What the fuck?" about, but by god, it's LEAR. It's more LEAR than any other LEAR has ever been. The essence of the play is there, in spades.

"That's right, bitches! Hundreds of color coded samurai! Giant burning castle! It's all in the first folio -- look it up!"

Watching Ran won't tell you a thing about how to stage Lear, or how to read a particular line in the play, but you will get what that play is about. You will get King Lear. And it's just a flat-out amazing movie.

So, for all those movie execs eying Green Lantern and World of Warcraft and salivating, I present the Three Steps To Adapting Anything to Anything:

1) Determine the Essential Thing That Makes the Original Awesome

In other words, figure out What it does. What sets this work of art apart from every other... why this work was worth creating in the first place. It very seldom has much to do with the surface things that most people would notice about the work at first glance. What makes it fun? What makes it compelling? What makes it moving? Star Wars isn't about lightsabers and exploding Death Stars. MacBeth isn't about witches and swordfights. Moby Dick isn't about a goddamn whale.

As we all know, the Essential Thing That Made The Golden Compass Awesome was the nuanced allegorical examination of religion from a humanist standpoint, standing in opposition to C.S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narn--BEARS! BEARSBEARSBEARS!!! BEARS IN ARMOR! DURRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

2) Determine how the effect was originally created.

In other words, figure out How it does it. Star Wars isn't about lightsabers and exploding Death Stars, but those were important means to an end. To adapt a movie, you have to understand cinematic structure and how camera angles can build tension. To adapt a play, you have to understand how language works in a live space. You don't have to be able to do what the creator did in their original medium, but you have to be able to see the wires that made Peter Pan fly.

3) Use the tools of your own medium to achieve the same effect.

In other words, Do what it did, but not in the same way. Use your mastery of your own chosen medium to create the same artistic effect with the things that work in your medium. Don't try and re-create the old work in the new medium... you're not going to make a movie of Huckleberry Finn that's a better novel than the original one was. But you can make a great movie out of it.

Every bad adaptation that's ever been made can be traced to a failure in one of these three areas, and every great adaptation has hit on all three. Bear this in mind as you go forth to create.

Remember: Only you can prevent... whatever the hell this was.

Oh, and if you meet Uwe Boll on a road? Kill him. Please.

-- The Prolix Wag
This is why I only read The Smurfs in the original French.

I Scream with Girlish Glee Every. Single. Time.

God's truth. Every time I watch it:

-- The Prolix Wag
Okay, okay. Just this once, Ken was not totally lame. Just this once.

Griff Oberwald is a Big Fat Cheatyface

As you may or may not be aware, Cyanide Studios released their PC version of Blood Bowl a couple weeks ago. It has been consuming my life ever since.

Blood Bowl, for the uninitiated, is Fantasy Football. No, REAL Fantasy Football. As in, Football with Orcs and Elves and Trolls beating each other until their intestines fall out, and then occasionally picking up a spiky football and scoring with it. If you're not thinking "Football and Orcs and Elves and Trolls? Why didn't I think of that?", you have no soul and should seriously consider the idea that yours is the unexamined life Socrates was talking about.

Why? Because FUCK YES, that's why.

Blood Bowl began life as a boardgame, made by Games Workshop, the fantasy miniatures/wargames company that's best known for making games with awesome fluff and crappy mechanics that get 13-year-old boys to buy way too many pewter miniatures.

I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my own sublimated sexuality. Also, my shoulder pads block my ears.

Blood Bowl is, without a doubt, the best game Games Workshop ever designed. Awesome idea, simple, elegant mechanics, damn near bottomless replay value, and even at it's height you didn't have to drop $500 on miniatures to assure yourself a slim chance of not get your ass handed to you. The PC version is all that wrapped up in a very pretty, only slightly clunky package that lets you play game after game after game. I have not had this addictive a gaming experience since Civilization. Yes, it's THAT good. Go buy it now. You can read about why when you get back.

Look at this picture closely. If, after having examined it at length, you still haven't bought the game, congratulations! You're a replicant.

Blood Bowl is the Best Damned Game Ever for the following reasons:

1) Summoning, easily gettable premise. "Football with Orcs" is just about the easiest pitch meeting anyone will ever have.

2) Constant, impactful choices during your turn. The game is like chess in that every single move is valuable, and there is not a piece you can move (or not move) that will not have some impact on the gamespace.

3) Constant, impactful choices by your opponent during their turn. Likewise, everything your opponent does during their turn has a profound impact on the state of the game, and may in fact kill one of your players. There's no time you can safely tune out.

4) Randomness that adds to dramatic tension, rather than taking away from it. I used to hate the randomness in Blood Bowl. Any given move, pretty much, you can roll two ones, and your fastest, awesomest player falls flat on his face, and your turn is over, and then you can roll two sixes, and he dies. POOF! You can never eliminate the threat that something can go horribly, horribly wrong... but you can manage it, which is what makes the game fun rather than frustrating. There is always risk, which is inherently dramatic, but there are ways to mitigate those risks, which is what makes it an exercise in strategic thinking rather than a game of War.

5) Relentless forwarding action. Each move sets up the next. Each tackle opens up a hole to run through. Each injury sets up the desire for revenge. And after each game, the skills your player gets make you want to play another game to see how well they do with their new shiny-pretty, which in turn gets them more skills, which in turn makes you want to play more. It's the leveling reward feedback loop WITH SIXTEEN DIFFERENT CHARACTERS AT ONCE.

6) Your Rat-men can grow extra heads and tentacles. Which I really think is what's held Monopoly back all these years.

Buy it. Play it. Love it.

-- The Prolix Wag
Because I'm still OBVIOUSLY the Luckiest Player in the League.

The Ultimatest Ultimate Bachelor Party

The topic of my bachelor party just came up in a conversation with my sister, which got me thinking about how awesome mine was, and how it could have been yet better.

My bachelor party consisted in sitting in an unfinished basement with a couple of hand-picked wingmen, drinking beer and playing boardgames until a ridiculous hour of the morning. Boardgames, mind you, such as Twilight Imperium, The Game That Has Only Ever Ended With Someone Pitching the Table Over in a Rage. Which is exactly what happened on the night in question. Which is part of what made it so awesome.

Much discussion was had, however, of how the evening fell short, of what certain frisson of sensual excess was missing. Which led me to volunteer, after some prodding, what I wished my bachelor party had really been like. Which is as follows:

Step 1

Hire hot hookers and/or strippers. Stupid hot. We're talking jaw-on-the-floor, such-creatures-cannot-possibly-exist-in-realspace-yet-there-they-are hot. Which would require them to be smart, too, of course.

Step 2

Dress them up in nothing but comfortable jeans and t-shirts. And possibly sweaters, depending on the time of year.

Step 3

Bring them into your house, and down into the basement, where your friends sit eagerly waiting on the edges of cheap folding chairs.

Step 4

Force them to play D&D with you. All. Night. Long.

"I don't know what your limits are, but I'm about to ask you to do something that may disgust you. I ask that you not judge; you'll be well-compensated. I'd like you to run us through Keep on the Shadowfell. Top to bottom."

"Straight up 4th Edition. Even I'm not that freaky."

There are going to be three kinds of people reading this. Those that say: "What the hell is Keep On the Shadowfell?" Those that laugh. And those that nod, and think: At last, I am understood.

My wife, predictably, thought it was funny, and that I was kidding. Much like the Leia Metal Bikini or the Darth Vader Corset, it is one of those things that geeks will nervously joke about with the women that love them, and the women will forever think their geeks aren't serious about.

Let me tell you this, ladies: we want the strippers playing D&D. We really do want you to dress up like Leia/Darth Vader/a Night Elf Paladin/Ivy from Soul Calibur/Pikachu. We wouldn't joke about it if we didn't.

Guys, you're welcome.

Oh, and ladies? Even if your man isn't a hardcore geek, if he was born any time in the 70s or 80s, the Leia Metal Bikini thing is deeply imprinted on his soul. When Rachel did that for Ross on Friends, women the world over laughed and laughed at how funny it was. And the men sitting next to them died a little inside.

This is Serious Fucking Business

Ladies, if you love your man -- I mean, if you really, truly love your man -- slip on the Metal Bikini every now and again. You will own his soul forever.

-- The Prolix Wag
Because rolling 20s is catnip to the ladies.

The Tao of Zangief

Street Fighter II came out in 1991, when I was 16 years old. It was a profound, formative influence on my gaming tastes, in much the way that Phoebe Cates getting out of the pool in Fast Times at Ridgemont High was to my sexuality.

You could play one of a number of different characters, each with their own unique fighting style, from the Sumo wrestler to the little Chinese girl with thighs of steel to the green-skinned Brazilian mutant with the electric skin.

Because, you know, the long tradition of green-skinned mutants with electric skin in Brazilian literature. And all.

My favorite quickly became apparent: Zangief, the hirsuite Russian wrestler pictured above. I picked him almost every time. And lost. And lost. And lost.

Why? Because if you wanted to win, you couldn't pick Zangief. You couldn't pick the fire-breathing yoga guy with the rubber limbs either. You *definitely* couldn't pick the Sumo guy, because he sucked.

No. If you wanted to win, you had to pick Ken or Ryu. Ken and Ryu were karate-fightin', fireball-throwin', dragon-punchin' douchebags who also happened to be cheesy as all hell. They could trap you in the corner with fireballs and dragon punches and hurricane kicks and cheese you to death no matter what you did. To top it all off, there was no discernible difference between the two, except that Ken was blonde and American, whereas Ryu was Japanese and straight.

Ken/Ryu was the only thing to play if you were serious about staying on that machine for more than a minute and a half. They were the cool characters, because they won.

And this is why, despite the fact that Zangief's conspicuously sculpted body hair did nothing to inspire confidence, I never, ever picked them.


Ken and Ryu were the easy choice. The popular choice. The choice of plebes. There was no possibility in them.

With Zangief, every once in a while, spinning my joystick with a mad and frenzied intensity, I would grab my opponent, do a ludicrously impossible spinning piledriver, and kill my opponent by knocking half of his health in one shot.

It almost never happened. But when it did, it was glorious.

In every game I have played since then, I always pick the Zangief. The hard to play, hinky, one-arm-tied-behind-your-back character/race/mana color/member of the Battlestar Galactica crew. If the faction/Pokemon/color of wooden blocks becomes the obviously superior choice over time, say because I have uncovered some new unbeatable strategy, I abandon them immediately, and find a new Zangief. Because I don't play games to win. I win to show how smart I am. And you can't do that with Ken or Ryu.

It bleeds over into my acting as well. Is everyone else standing? Then I, by god, shall hunker. Is looking deeply into my scene partners eyes the only choice that makes any sense in hell? Then I shall examine the samovar in great detail. Because anyone can act. It takes someone totally smart and pretty to act while making, not just interesting or creative, but totally counterintuitive choices.

In life, you will be offered many a Ken/Ryu. My advise is? Go for the Zangief, every time. Not because no one else is doing it. Not because it's a morally better choice. Because every once in a while, you will beat face, and they will know, deep in their hearts, how much better you are than them.

-- The Prolix Wag

You say “pretentious, condescending prick” like it’s some kind of bad thing.