Stuck at work for days. Its not overly complicated being a technical supervisor on an opera for children, but it is draining. A 65 hour week, with no prep beforehand, and where most of the creative protagonists haven't met each other.
One of the things that keeps my mind working is the machinations of Wow insider. I love it, I like its very positive american tone, and its happily universal approach, from theorycrafting about their high end 70 raiders, respeccing for Karathons every night, or high fiving the the uber guilds with their multiple 10 and 25man raid teams; to talking people through the newbie levels, from every angle, for every season.
And because of this, I really want to get back online. I really want to get my Paladin through to 50 and beyond. Krakenoah is my solo champion, with whom I'll go everywhere first, but his brother, Krakenspawn, will be a raid demon, A social animal who will get his experience almost always through instances. He's going to do the DPS thing, unless the world suddenly needs more tanks. But my brother is going to be the tank, with his newly 70'ed Arms warrior, Trailor.
I need to get online to celebrate Trai's 70 in guild, and see how my dysfunctional family are doing. See who's got Kara attuned now, because I know there's been a flurry recently. Maybe the Lords have got a second team together? I can't wait to find out now.
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
part one: the Kraken awoke...
Krakenoah has been out in the fields slapping things for about six weeks in total. I love this character, and I love this game. I have always enjoyed RPG's (Might and Magic Five, anyone?) and the amount of quality time I have wasted playing every one I could get my hands on is difficult to comprehend now. WoW is such a ridiculously addictive game it is tough to know where to start, but I'll write a little today to try and summarise the joy of the internet world of Warcraft, or "how geeks will beat you, and why you have to hand it to them".
I mostly stopped myself from reading about it. I downloaded the trial version of the game and just went for it. from Setup Wizard to the human/alliance starting zones, I just followed the onscreen instructions and (certainly for the first half an hour) ran into things, tapping my keyboard frantically and deselecting/opening panes at random. It's just great, starting on a new game. controversially, I never played more than an hour of Baldurs Gate. I kind of enjoyed the opening bit, then the layout and the way NPCs spoke just got on my nerves. Contrarily, I still have the copy that my ex-girlfriend's brother lent me. He's probably never going to get it back.
I didn't sleep so well over the next few days. Computer games seem to step right into my frontal lobe and grab me. I can still picture every last pixel of the Hangar level on Tony Hawk's 2. Now there is a game more arresting than a speedball of heroin and Ben and Jerry Fish Food, and easily as arresting as the priceless classic Speedball 2, which is where the trouble all started on my first atari (somewhere between that and Sabre Team). More on this another time.
Over those first few halting days, interspersed around the lazy christmas family visits and the girlfriend time, I leveled through 1-10 in what seems now like a particularly grueling way. Running backwards and forwards across lots of the same targets, fiddling endlessly with rather pointless things and generally riding the learning transition. I then paid to transfer my character to my brothers server, or realm, not fully understanding that i could just start a new character on his realm, and do the 1-10 fandango all over again (in probably two thirds the time). I think it is this rather naieve move that has made Krakenoah important to me. He has jumped the inter server hyperspace, and therefore is the most kickass hybrid Paladin to ever smelt ore.
And thats what he does best. Aside from the regular run of questing (chiefly solo) and badguy smacking; Mining is my true love. You can tell he's a welsh paladin, because he's down holes, finding the ore. And in that, Warcraft has done it for me, because of the intense variety of sideshow activity, your characters gain an erzatz personality. And Krakenoah is me:- Welsh, a poor team player who doesn't like to cook for himself, armed with a hammer and a meticulously researched sartorial look. This last point is more of a metaphorical translation of Real Life. Buying plate armour isn't really the same as knowing the diamonds from the rough in a TK Maxx skateshoe department.
Work calls at this point. To be continued.
I mostly stopped myself from reading about it. I downloaded the trial version of the game and just went for it. from Setup Wizard to the human/alliance starting zones, I just followed the onscreen instructions and (certainly for the first half an hour) ran into things, tapping my keyboard frantically and deselecting/opening panes at random. It's just great, starting on a new game. controversially, I never played more than an hour of Baldurs Gate. I kind of enjoyed the opening bit, then the layout and the way NPCs spoke just got on my nerves. Contrarily, I still have the copy that my ex-girlfriend's brother lent me. He's probably never going to get it back.
I didn't sleep so well over the next few days. Computer games seem to step right into my frontal lobe and grab me. I can still picture every last pixel of the Hangar level on Tony Hawk's 2. Now there is a game more arresting than a speedball of heroin and Ben and Jerry Fish Food, and easily as arresting as the priceless classic Speedball 2, which is where the trouble all started on my first atari (somewhere between that and Sabre Team). More on this another time.
Over those first few halting days, interspersed around the lazy christmas family visits and the girlfriend time, I leveled through 1-10 in what seems now like a particularly grueling way. Running backwards and forwards across lots of the same targets, fiddling endlessly with rather pointless things and generally riding the learning transition. I then paid to transfer my character to my brothers server, or realm, not fully understanding that i could just start a new character on his realm, and do the 1-10 fandango all over again (in probably two thirds the time). I think it is this rather naieve move that has made Krakenoah important to me. He has jumped the inter server hyperspace, and therefore is the most kickass hybrid Paladin to ever smelt ore.
And thats what he does best. Aside from the regular run of questing (chiefly solo) and badguy smacking; Mining is my true love. You can tell he's a welsh paladin, because he's down holes, finding the ore. And in that, Warcraft has done it for me, because of the intense variety of sideshow activity, your characters gain an erzatz personality. And Krakenoah is me:- Welsh, a poor team player who doesn't like to cook for himself, armed with a hammer and a meticulously researched sartorial look. This last point is more of a metaphorical translation of Real Life. Buying plate armour isn't really the same as knowing the diamonds from the rough in a TK Maxx skateshoe department.
Work calls at this point. To be continued.
0245 GMT
This morning, at around 1am, I messed up a handshake. There are several reasons this is a problem. The main reason that this is a problem is that I have virtually nothing else of a work nature to occupy my mind.
If this were any other well paid technical gig of the regular small-hours kind: taking a set down, loading a truck, putting truss together or driving across country; I'd have plenty to occupy my mind. And everybody else here has got plenty of that. Tonight, I am a unique indivual. Tonight Matthew, I am the House Technician.
I am here to make sure nobody hurts themselves, and that people can find their way into the building. I am here to make sure the nice electricians can find the plugs, and that the plugs are full of sparkly goodness when their powerful modern looking items are turned on. I am here to talk to our inhouse security team in a codified language, to make sure some large doors stay open for short periods of time, and a few small doors stay open for long periods of time. Mostly I am here to be the face of the venue at two in the morning, say hello and shake hands in a cheeky, cockney way by way of welcome.
And thats where messing up a handshake becomes a problem. It was easily done, The uber-carpenter I was greeting, and am on friendly terms with from previous occasions, was sat in a van, and thus higher up than me. For this reason I thought I'd give him the "Bro" upward handshake, the foundation of technical handshakes throughout the western world. However, in the darkness, my intentions were a little less than obvious, and we almost did a kind of wristgrip, The kind of things Warriors in romanticed medieval films do. I did manage to swerve out of this, and we blustered the right (Bro) handshake quickly, but the situation was lost and he thinks I'm a loser for that very brief second before his mind returned to the job.
And this is where its all good. Because he won't think about it again, as he's got a high-profile fashion showfloor to lay, and as I haven't, it gave me something to think about while on my sustenance and caffeine break.
Five to Three. A good "venue staff visibility" walkabout time, with high likelihood of cheeky comments on the slowness of their progress.
If this were any other well paid technical gig of the regular small-hours kind: taking a set down, loading a truck, putting truss together or driving across country; I'd have plenty to occupy my mind. And everybody else here has got plenty of that. Tonight, I am a unique indivual. Tonight Matthew, I am the House Technician.
I am here to make sure nobody hurts themselves, and that people can find their way into the building. I am here to make sure the nice electricians can find the plugs, and that the plugs are full of sparkly goodness when their powerful modern looking items are turned on. I am here to talk to our inhouse security team in a codified language, to make sure some large doors stay open for short periods of time, and a few small doors stay open for long periods of time. Mostly I am here to be the face of the venue at two in the morning, say hello and shake hands in a cheeky, cockney way by way of welcome.
And thats where messing up a handshake becomes a problem. It was easily done, The uber-carpenter I was greeting, and am on friendly terms with from previous occasions, was sat in a van, and thus higher up than me. For this reason I thought I'd give him the "Bro" upward handshake, the foundation of technical handshakes throughout the western world. However, in the darkness, my intentions were a little less than obvious, and we almost did a kind of wristgrip, The kind of things Warriors in romanticed medieval films do. I did manage to swerve out of this, and we blustered the right (Bro) handshake quickly, but the situation was lost and he thinks I'm a loser for that very brief second before his mind returned to the job.
And this is where its all good. Because he won't think about it again, as he's got a high-profile fashion showfloor to lay, and as I haven't, it gave me something to think about while on my sustenance and caffeine break.
Five to Three. A good "venue staff visibility" walkabout time, with high likelihood of cheeky comments on the slowness of their progress.
A Tull Interlude
A note. The next paragraph is one I wrote a while back, but what goes around, comes around, and as I am presently sat recuperating from a heavy-lifting night shift, awaiting the next one (which should be 'light duties only', but could become very dull) I thought I would post it to add context to my journal in these early days.
I like it here. I like it here in my flat, with my girlfriend. On my street. I like it when I've had a few days to get it together, and put my thoughts in good order, and have fresh thoughts. I like not thinking about work so much, even if I am still thinking about work 15 to 20% of the time, its not the 75% of the time which occurs at work, just before or just after work. I also don't think about drinking, "the stupid choices I have made" or any of the other notions that muddy the water on my lesser days.
"And it was a new day yesterday, but its an old day now".
The words below are the words I found to a Jethro Tull song I've never heard.
Tearing down in double quick time to get the "A" truck shifted 'bout midnight.
The locker rooms are empty but the strobo tuners still spin with their pitching lights.
And Someone with a yellow pass gives out precise directions as to where and when.
And earmarked with a drumstick, young girls set to rendezvous, and be recognized again.
Tomorrow is an off-day, be in Baltimore by Thursday is the only law.
There's a suite down at the hotel reserved for making merry with connecting doors.
The lighting man's already improvised a bar and printed invitations to the ball.
Off-duty cops line corridors wearing tour T-shirts proudly and the band may even call.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
Feeling that it might be wrong to temporarily belong to the P.A. man.
Some angel from the midwest is regretting being undressed with no suntan.
His polaroid a-snapping, the head carpenter is rapping on the gates of dawn.
Sitting lonely with a warm beer the girl with dental braces wishes that she hadn't gone.
Crew nights, no bar fights or 'Reader's Wives',
Thin walls and late calls and nine lives.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
And that does it for me. These are great lyrics, and I've done enough Rock and Roll to smile at this, from the comfort of my drug free, pasta-eating corner sofa. I can hear Ian Anderson's laughter in his voice. I found these words by accident on a Tull website. I really must track the actual song down.
I like it here. I like it here in my flat, with my girlfriend. On my street. I like it when I've had a few days to get it together, and put my thoughts in good order, and have fresh thoughts. I like not thinking about work so much, even if I am still thinking about work 15 to 20% of the time, its not the 75% of the time which occurs at work, just before or just after work. I also don't think about drinking, "the stupid choices I have made" or any of the other notions that muddy the water on my lesser days.
"And it was a new day yesterday, but its an old day now".
The words below are the words I found to a Jethro Tull song I've never heard.
Tearing down in double quick time to get the "A" truck shifted 'bout midnight.
The locker rooms are empty but the strobo tuners still spin with their pitching lights.
And Someone with a yellow pass gives out precise directions as to where and when.
And earmarked with a drumstick, young girls set to rendezvous, and be recognized again.
Tomorrow is an off-day, be in Baltimore by Thursday is the only law.
There's a suite down at the hotel reserved for making merry with connecting doors.
The lighting man's already improvised a bar and printed invitations to the ball.
Off-duty cops line corridors wearing tour T-shirts proudly and the band may even call.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
Feeling that it might be wrong to temporarily belong to the P.A. man.
Some angel from the midwest is regretting being undressed with no suntan.
His polaroid a-snapping, the head carpenter is rapping on the gates of dawn.
Sitting lonely with a warm beer the girl with dental braces wishes that she hadn't gone.
Crew nights, no bar fights or 'Reader's Wives',
Thin walls and late calls and nine lives.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
And that does it for me. These are great lyrics, and I've done enough Rock and Roll to smile at this, from the comfort of my drug free, pasta-eating corner sofa. I can hear Ian Anderson's laughter in his voice. I found these words by accident on a Tull website. I really must track the actual song down.
A Note on the Name
I am a stagehand and scenic carpenter with a fascination for the Internet. I like the popular social networking sites, and have made use of them. I like things like Deviantart, because the world is full of surprises, and seeing what ridiculously enthusiatic Americans have spent their evenings drawing is curiously life affirming.
My name is Tom Arnold, and I have come a long way in the last decade in terms of my career progression. I used to earn £100 p/w here, and now Gasquillions p/w here for more or less the same thing. I have my health, and I have a nice place to live.
The name krakenoah is the name of another internet engendered Avatar, another useful means of killing my spare time and meeting people, and strangely the best thing to have brought me closer to my family in the last year. It is the name of my main character in World ofWarcraft, the phenomenally successly and french owned online RPG.
I started playing at the end of 2007, mainly on the recommendation of my brother. He had been playing for years and we share an enthusiasm for complex PC supported computer games. However, I rarely speak to my brother, and this new frequency of interaction has been an added boon over the last few months.
This Journal will cover both my experiences in World of Warcraft and in the world at large. It is not intended for any particular audience, it is merely a product of my combined desires to use Html, and talk about myself when nobody is listening, liks some in-Starbucks-on-my-power book-playlisting-electro social casualty, but with instant coffee and NWOBHM.
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