Dear Past Self,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know you have work to do, but I expect you'll be able to take the time out to read this - after all, I always have been easily distracted.

Now, I know that sometimes the world looks pretty grim: the everpresent threat of war, of famine, of disease, the knowledge always aching in the back of your mind that there are so many people who are so desperate, so helpless, and that you are helpless to change it. And that feeling never goes away, let me tell you. Life will always be a struggle: some of your fondest hopes will give way to crushing disappointment, and your dreams will succumb, as so many do, to cold, hard reality chipping away at them - slowly, but surely. Science will never cure death, and God will never speak to you and tell you your purpose, and no matter how many times you open your closet door, Narnia will never be on the other side.

But, it's always worth remembering: sometimes you get it right, even if just by accident. The right words in the right place, and opportunity strikes. The skill you spent so long acquiring suddenly becomes needed, or the publisher you spent so long courting decides to bite, or the girl you also spent so long courting... also decides to bite. If you get me.

And hey, things don't have to be easy to be fun. The hardest things you've ever done will inevitably be the best, and once every sixteen days, the ringrise on Titan is still the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. So go nuts. The world is always worth the effort.

Now get back to work, you slacker.

- Etarran

PS. July 14, 2027: Don't get out of bed. I mean it.

This Essay Gets a C Minor

Is it wrong of me to find this video philosophically fascinating? It is, isn't it?

In all seriousness (By which I, naturally, mean "more than a little tongue in cheek"), though, I wanted to change tack a bit with this post and discuss something I don't talk about terribly often: music.

This comic, from back before XKCD jumped the shark (Yeah, I said it. More on webcomics in a future post. Await with anticipation!) illustrates perfectly my feelings on the matter. We suck, guys. We really do.

This is not to say that there aren't artists, that we don't produce excellent music, or even that some of it isn't popular. But good music and great music are two different things. When you listen to Bach or Beethoven or Mozart, you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is great music, that this is art which transcends everything that came before it and will be the bar to which all after it must be held. And the same, I will contend, is true of art from the musical revolution that preceded my generation. There is a sense of greatness, of achievement, of some kind of transcendental musical experience, that you get when listening to Queen or the Beatles or Led Zeppelin. Whether or not you like their music, there is a quality of greatness which must come through.

I'm going to go on the record here with an address to future musical historians:

Dear Future Musical Historians,

When you decide that the 1960s, 70s, and early 80s were a period of musical rennaissance which rivaled that of the late 16th and early 17th centuries, please remember that I totally called it.

Love, Etarran.

PS. I agree, Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" is totally awesome.

It is telling, I think, that university campuses, supposedly bastions of cultural revolution, primarily have the sounds of forty-year-old music drifting from students' rooms. Not even the generation making modern music thinks it's better than our parents' music.

Perhaps it is too much to expect. After all, a great cultural revolution can come along only once in a very great while. And we do, of course, have our cultural successes. But even those, which are primarily internet-related, are based on technologies and cultures that fundamentally belong to the generation before. And I can't help but think that, in an era of unprecedented cultural freedom and diversity and intercommunication, surely we should be coming up with something better than webcomics and the Rickroll.

Perhaps art simply isn't our destiny. After all, we have more practical problems to deal with. Our parents may have produced excellent music, but they also produced a hell of a lot of carbon dioxide and enriched uranium. But surely we could save the world and rock out?

Get on that, will you?

PS. I was totally serious about Hot n' Cold being philosophically fascinating. I invite you to contemplate its symbolism, which is surpassed, perhaps, only by this video.

Going to Class

So, here's the story.

I sat down about an hour ago to write a post, because I felt like I should write something. So as I usually do, I began brainstorming ideas for topics. My thought processes when I do this generally run something like this:

"Hmmm.... blog post. Blog post, blog post, blog post.... 'blog' is such a stupid word. It doesn't even mean anything. You know what else doesn't mean anything? Election promises. Those wacky politicians, am I right? Maybe I should write about them, and their election promises, and how McCain's campaign has been going completely batshit insane.

Oh, right. Then I would be pretty much the mainstream media. Only without money or credibility.

Friggin' media. Seriously, what'd they ever do for us, anyways? It's just commercials and exploitation and capitalism and sadism and decadence. There's no real content or intelligent debate or examination of actual issues anywhere in the whole dreary nihilistic morass of it.

Hehehe. Boobies.

Okay, so maybe I could write about feminism and stuff, because the media is basically why modern feminism sucks, but I keep doing that. Then again, isn't that basically the point? You gotta keep saying stuff, gotta let the message free, because if you don't say it loudly and often, how will anyone ever take notice? Do you really expect to change the world by being silent?

Do I really expect to change the world at all?"

It was at this point that I made a realization. I do expect to change the world. I do, against all reason, against all better judgment and all prior experience, expect to be important. Expect to mean something.

So I asked myself the obvious question: why? What possible reason could I have for this ridiculous assumption?

And the answer quickly came to me: it's a class thing.

You see, as long as there have been civilizations, there has been a certain kind of person who knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they will be important, that the world balances on the tips of their fingers. Kings, aristocrats, oil barons, priests: all of these people have known, many for as long as they have been alive, just how important they are.

But I am none of these things. Though I live a life of shocking and frequently appalling privelege compared to the vast majority of human beings on this terrifying planet, I'm not, by any stretch of the imagination, upper class. I have no power, nor any particular prospect of power. And yet, I believe in it anyways.

Witness, my friends, the triumph of the modern world. Call it the American Dream, if you like, call it the historical dialectic and the principle of Communism, call it the triumph of rationalism and man transcendant... call it what you will, we are achieving it. For the first time in history, ordinary people can legitimately believe themselves to be special. Important. Valuable. Everyone can believe themselves to be the kind of person who is destined for greatness. And belief is the first step on the road to truth.

It won't happen tomorrow, and it may not happen for hundreds or thousands of years - it may not happen at all; after all, far too often we seem to slide backwards, to lose the progress we have made. But on the whole, the road we are travelling is a good one. Someday, I think, we will be free.

Etarran Knows How to Get the Ladies

There once was a blogger whose name
Was Etarran (or so he would claim)
His readers said "Serious?!
Fool! You're delerious
If you think that's the name of the game!"

Etarran said "Readers, for shame!
If you think wholly sombre my aim
You are quite mistaken."
(In truth, he was shaken
To hear they believed him so tame.)

In defense of my honour and pride,
I go back to the sillier side
Of my writings and rambles,
My journeys and ambles,
Through English's wildest ride.

I'm sure every one of you knows
Of the essay, and all that it shows
Of mankind's erudition:
The way we partition
Our words into columns and rows.

But I practice a form far superior
Though of usually humerous interior
Nevertheless
It is easy to press
To possession of motives ulterior.

The limerick, thus, is the form
Which I use today to inform
Of a shift in intention
Within the dimension
Encompassed within this transform.

This isn't to say there comes change
To the pages within which I range
But simply to state
Without room for debate
"Sometimes I can simply be strange."

I know many would read this for pleasure
But the subjects are heavy for leasure
So just this, in closure:
I'll limit exposure
To my overly serious measure.

And I hope this begins to appease
Those who found me too ranting for ease
And so: comments! Concerns!
Rebuttals! Returns!
But... only in limericks, please.

Game Over (Alternative Title Rejected)

Originally, I had of course entitled this post Game Enders. Then I decided I didn't actually hate the universe that much.

So, ever since I dropped my tantalizing teaser a few posts ago, Loud has been agitating to hear in what way he is toxic to gaming culture. Furthermore, I need to get this rant written down before I get stabbed in the face for repeating it too often.

I spend a lot of time gaming. All kinds of games: collectible card games, board games, tabletop miniatures games, computer games, pen-and-paper roleplaying games - all the way to the more traditional poker and chess. And in doing so, it is inevitable that I have come into contact with an enormous number of gamers.

And oh, man, are we ever dumb.

I suppose you could call us a subculture, but that isn't really what we are. "Subculture" carries the implication of wanting to keep the number of people like you to a minimum, so you can continue to sneer at the mainstream and feel smugly superior for listening to a certain kind of music or wearing a specific type of clothing. Certainly subcultures will tout the benefits of belonging, but what it's really about, for them, is being different.

Not so with gamers - or at least, those who care about gaming as a hobby. What it's really about, for us, is playing games. And you know what? The more people who play them, the easier it is to find an opponent.

Now, there are certainly people for whom gaming is anathema, people who will never sit down and play a game because, for them, it just isn't fun. But I believe that there are many, many fewer of these than you may think. Most people, I suspect, can be persuaded to pick up a game, and, if you do it right, will even have a blast and want to come back for more.

So that begs the question, then: why aren't there more gamers? If lots of people would enjoy playing games, then how come more don't?

The answer? Well, it's our fault. We drive them away.

You see, hobbies in general, and gaming in particular, tend to attract people who are very... focused. Competitive. Obsessive. Insufferable?

We don't discourage new players by not wanting them to play, we discourage them by being incredibly competitive when they try. We crush them, using all the tricks at our disposal, and then we gloat. The technical term, I believe, is "pwning n00bs." And you know what? It's just not cool. Nothing discourages people from taking up any activity more than learning that the people who engage in it are, for lack of a better term, total grade A dickwads.

Even when we're not doing that, we find other ways to drive people off. Have you ever had Monty Python quoted at you until you can't imagine ever watching the damn thing? If you haven't, chances are pretty good you're one of the people doing the quoting. Hang on, guys. A lot of gamers are brilliant people, but John Cleese, we ain't. If you want people to like something, tell them to try it. Tell them what you like about it.

Tell them once.

Nothing ruins something faster than hearing about it all the time, over and over and over and over again. I'm afraid the internet has ruined Portal's "Still Alive." Remember: we liked these things for a reason, and that reason has a lot to do with what they are, and not a whole lot to do with our rendition of them. Games are fun. A lot of games are awesome. If people try them, a lot of them will like them. So maybe we should try not to discourage them.

We're gamers. We do something that is challenging, rewarding, and, above all, a ton of fun. And yet, somehow, people look down on that.

It's not the games, guys. It's us.

- Etarran. (Who wishes he could still play Portal.)

The Internet According to Etarran

So, I spend a lot of time on the internet (recently even more than usual) and as such, I consider myself to be something of an expert on it, insofar as such a ridiculous claim can possibly be true.

One of the main problems with the internet is its anonymity: it is far too easy to forget that the people you are interacting with are, in fact, real people, and as such, deserve to be accorded at least a modicum of respect. Exacerbating this is the fact that there can be no real consequences for misbehaviour; no matter how terrible you act, the internet will protect you behind its screen of faceless text.

And so, being the polite and kindly person that I am, I thought I would present my own personal version of internet etiquette. I'm curious, in fact, as to whether you will agree with the rules I have worked out for myself.

So, without further ado, here it is: The Internet According to Etarran.

General Rules

1. Real Names Are For No. The internet is a scary place: it brings you in contact with the best and worst of humanity, and sometimes, that makes it very dangerous. There is a reason the internet-safety courses (stupid as they are) stress keeping your personal information offline: you never know who will end up finding it.

2. Real Life Is For No. This is, if anything, more important than the first. It's not only that someone may find your emotion-wracked diatribe and in some way use it against you, it's that the people it is about will undoubtedly read it. The most insidious quality of text-based communication is that it makes you much, much ruder than you are. Even the most innocent of things can lead to terrible misunderstandings, and so keeping the less-innocent things clear of The Great Big Truck is paramount. (There are cases where this rule is okay to break. Under no circumstances can this one and number one be broken at the same time.)

3. Language Is Your Friend. After all, one of the main dangers of the internet is miscommunication. It takes less than a second to read and edit what you've written before you send or post it. Try it. Spelling, grammar, and punctuation: the better yours is, the more people will listen to you.

4. Do Not Get Involved. Do you want to be this person? The internet is sometimes so shocking, so horrible, that you feel you have to reach out and stop it. Racism, Religious fanatics, Anti-religious fanatics, hatred, ignorance, and everything else you can possibly imagine: all of these are everywhere in the nihilistic soupy froth of human failure and brilliance that we pipe into our eyes (Often all in the same YouTube comment). Sometimes someone is so wrong, you just want to stop them. Resist the temptation! It will only end in tears.

These four rules are pretty much what guides my internet usage, insofar as I am able to conform to them. Am I missing anything? Am I dead wrong? Tell me.

Another thing I find is that people often mistake the level of formality of the internet medium they are using. And so, a handy list:

1. Blog posts. A blog is not a blackboard, where the posts are erased as soon as they're written. These are your thoughts. You should try to do them justice. (Okay, frequently guilty).

2. Email. Email is slightly less formal than a hard copy letter, but it is not a chat message. Remember, the people receiving your email will have it forever. If that doesn't scare you, it should.

3. Forum Posts. Forum posts and email are actually equal in formality. While a forum post doesn't stick around forever, it still exists for about three or four years, and in the time it is online, a lot more people see it than do an email. As such, think about what you write, don't be a jerk, and everything will be fine.

4. Facebook and other single-thread message boards. These aren't quite fora, but they aren't quite not, and so are difficult to classify. Still, the easy rule to apply is "How long will people see it?" Since the answer is "It could easily be a year or so." I would exercise a certain amount of caution. Note that private messages in these media (And on fora), are the same as email.

5. MSN, IRC, and other chat clients. You should still spell properly, but what you say will be gone in five minutes, so it doesn't matter as much how it looks. Just don't be fooled into thinking it's a real conversation.

6. In-game text and voice chat. spd + style -. MEDIC!

So, that ends The Internet According to Etarran. Do you agree? Disagree? Hate me? Sound off!

Life is the Bubbles (Excuses, Excuses)

So, recently I have been accused by several separate people of neglecting this blog, after having promised so faithfully to maintain it (and hug it and love it and call it George). To this spurious accusation I say: "Fools! You know not whereof you speak!"

Because, in fact, far from neglecting my blog, I've been paying it a lot of attention. No, what I've been neglecting is not the blog, but the readers.

"How," you ask, "is it possible to be writing blog entries but not have people reading blog entries?" Well, I'm glad you asked that question, in fact, because it's exactly the one I have set out this post to answer. The reason you've seen nothing here is not that I haven't been writing, but that I haven't been finishing what I write. In fact, this has become such a problem that I now have more than three times as many unfinished drafts of posts as I do actual posts.

So, in lieu of actually getting to work and finishing them, I have chosen here to post a list of the Top Ten Coming Attractions to the world of Fog and Castles. All but two of these posts are more than half finished, and of those two, one is totally made up. Try to guess which.

1. A post entitled "Sicklical," discussing the nature of health care in North America.
2. A post that uses the word "Fish" more times than any other single word.
3. A post explaining the name of the blog, and directing you towards the excellent work of an unknown artist.
4. The Internet According to Etarran.
5. A post explaining who the worst enemy of gaming culture is. (I'll spoil the surprise ending: it turns out to be gamers. [Specifically, Loud.])
6. Webcomics, and why Dinosaur Comics is funnier than yours. (Two words: Dinosaurs and, ummm... the other one's not really important)
7. A post discussing Penguins, and why they are evil.
8. The Internet According to Solipsism. (And vice versa!)
9. A post discussing Penguins, and why they are really, really evil.
10. Politics, Philosophy, Or Philolotics: The Poll. (Warning: May include traces of dinosaur.)