Tag: Gaming (page 10 of 41)

The Curious Case of Randal Graves

Courtesy View Askew

On Saturday, I watched both Clerks films, back to back, which I highly recommend for any fan of Kevin Smith. There was something I hadn’t noticed before, but was pointed out to me and I’ve taken some time to consider it. There’s also the fact I wanted to break in my revamped PC with some gaming, but that’s neither here nor there.

It’s important for characters to change over the course of a narrative. This is a given rule in creating good fiction. Characters that stagnate, that do not evolve, usually don’t make for good stories. It is odd, then, that a character in the most iconic of the works of Kevin Smith, held by some as a premier storyteller of our generation, does not evolve. In fact, it’s been observed that, if aything, he gets dumber.

I’m speaking of Randal Graves.

We first meet Randal in Clerks, tasked with minding the video store next to the Quick Stop grudgingly run by his best friend Dante. Randal is Dante’s enabler, keeping him sane through his shift with thoroughly irreverent humor and pontifications on pop culture. Through Smith’s black and white lens, we see clearly how the dynamics of this friendship work and continue to evolve.

When Clerks II takes place, Dante has changed. Sure, he and Randal are still working dead-end jobs, but Dante’s taken steps to change that. He’s on the verge of taking the biggest one as the film opens. Yet Randal hasn’t. Years have passed but Randal has not evolved. Even the dealers that hang out on the sidewalk have changed and grown somewhat, but not Randal. He simply never bothered to grow up.

As much as this might seem as a knock against the character at first, there’s a reason his behavior is manifesting in this way. For those of you who’ve refrained from seeing Clearks II, I’ll encapsulate this examination in spoiler tags.

Spoiler

When Dante and Randal are in jail, Dante vents his frustrations at Randal and his apparent lack of initiative and desire to move beyond their jobs. Randal responds by saying, in essence, it doesn’t matter where he works as long as he’s working with Dante. The prospect of Dante leaving is terrifying to him, and he’s been acting out of that fear and a stubborn desire to hold onto his best friend. But as much as the emotional causes are apparent, especially on repeat viewing, there’s something else at work that, to me, shows Randal is just as smart as he was in Clerks.

In that original story, Randal confronted Veronica about Dante’s feelings because he felt Dante wouldn’t do it on his own. As much as it upset Dante to the point of physical violence, Dante did appreciate the act and ten years later is still confiding in his best friend. There’s a line in Clerks II that indicates Randal is aware of the controlling nature of the future Mrs Hicks, and while part of him doesn’t want to see Dante under this woman’s thumb, there’s got to be part of him screaming “HEY! THAT’S MY JOB!”

Still, for all of his shenanigans, Randal has been a good influence on Dante overall, and in the second film Dante does make more decisions on his own. That’s one of the things I appreciate about Kevin Smith’s writing and characterization, even if it seems one of those characters hasn’t evolved. These young men are both intelligent and, on at least some level, in touch with their emotions enough to understand the whys and wherefores of their feelings.

This is a rare case. But it’s still proof positive that just because good characterization does not necessarily mean constant evolution. There are exceptions to every rule, especially in creative endeavors like writing, with the important part being how those rules are broken.

Dragon Tales: The Battle of Albridge

Logo courtesy Wizards of the Coast

Being the stories and recollections of Dozril Tumbledown, traveling minstrel and friend to all, regarding the exploits of the wandering band called the Heroes of Harkenwold – Andrasian the elvish warrior, Krillorien the eladrin priest of Pelor, Melanie Good-Melons of the Arcane Tower, and Lyria Thorngage of the Junction Thorngages.

Yes, yes, gather ’round, gather ’round! I bring you a tale drenched in blood and bedecked with honor, fraught with danger and harrowing the faintof heart! You have heard, I’m sure, of the Battle of Albridge, the first blow struck for true against the Iron Circle cronies of the vile emperor-boy Lysander as he skulks on his thrown in Nerath. Yes! You have! But you know not of the crucial part four intrepid souls in turning that battle’s tide, and the good service they did after at Harken Keep! You will, good folk, as I, your humble storyteller Dozril Tumbledown, speak the names of this fearsome foursome –

(as Dozril says each name, it is echoed by the patrons who drink to each adventurer)

Andrasian! Elf of the Feywood, whose axe has cleaved many an Iron skull!

Krillorien! Eladrin noble of the dwarven manse bearing the light of Pelor wither he goes!

Melanie Good-Melons, lovely of form and keen of mind honed in the mysterious Tower of the Arcane!

Lyria! Sweet Lyria! Sly Lyria! Call her short at your peril, good sir, for she’ll shank you for it!

Now I begin my tale! Dark was the dawn when the rider found the four, and roused them to ride to Albridge. Dar Gramath, mighty of wind as well as fist, summoned them to assist in rebuffing the oncoming tide of iron. They had already done a good service to him, to Reithann the druid, the folk and fields of the Harkenwold – even the Woodsinger elves, cagey and aloof, pledged themselves to the defense of the ‘wold after these four rid them of an ancient evil, one that they said could never truly die! Ah, but that is a tale for another time…

So! Albridge! A fair jewel in the Harkenwold, rivaled only by Harken itself and facing annihilation at the hands of vile Nazin Redthorn (audiences tend to hiss at the first mention of his name) and his tar devil brood, his lackwit sellswords and his Iron Circle minions. Yet Redthorn did not anticipate resistance. Indeed, while his caravans had been sacked and his outriders disappearing, he had no notion that Dar Gramath had retained the services of four souls so keen to see him fail and fall! So when he rode to Albridge, he anticipated a quick tussle and an easy victory – not a hard-fought battle that would end in a rout!

For Krillorien prayed with the defenders of the Harkenwold, and Pelor shone his light upon them! Melanie’spells and… other charms (here Dozril waggles his bushy eyebrows) … gave the warriors help and hope to defend their homes! Andrasian’s crass, direct critiques of their fighting styles emboldened them! Lyria, sharp as her knives, conferred with the leaders of the resistance to draw Redthorn’s cronies into a brilliant trap – and so it happened! Like a steel snare for bears the resistance waited, and when the Iron Circle stepped into them with hoof and boot, the trap snapped shut!

(Dozril claps his hands and the audience bangs tankards and silverware on their tables)

Oh, many an Iron Circle tunic was tarnished that day, friends, and many sellswords threw down their arms and ran when the battle went ill. There were tar devils! Magics most foul! The flail of Redthorn and the bites of his drakes! Yet the defenders of the Harkenwold stood their ground, not giving up an inch of their precious land that was not paid for five times over in Iron Circle blood! Six times! (“Six times?” calls someone from the audience) SIX TIMES the Iron Circle came! SIX TIMES the Harkenwolders beat them back! And in the middle of it all were our heroes! Nazin Redthorn found them, friends, swore out an oath against them and set upon them full of vengeance and anger!

And what did this mighty warrior do, this warlord of sellswords, this most iron of Iron Circle men?

(“What? What? Tell us what!”)

HE RAN AWAY!

(Dozril takes on a frightened face, tucks his tail between his legs and runs in place. The audience laughs long and loud)

He ran away, good folk, back to what he felt was the safety of his keep, called Harken Keep when good Baron Stockmer held it, rechristened Iron Keep by Redthorn and his yes-folk. Yet not long after his shameful defeat a wagon of Iron Circle warriors came to the gate with a delivery for their dread lord. Into the keep they came, two men and a women with a large box between them.

Up into the great tower they went! Past behorned gatekeepers and guards born of dragons, they bluffed and parleyed their way to the highest room, the baron’s chamber. There was the craven Redthorn, who recognized his tormentors immediately in spite of their disguises. Lyria Thorngage sprang from the box, and the fight was on! The sound roused the others in the tower, save those below in the gaol, and what seemed to be an endless tide of iron washed over our heroes. Yet Andrasian’s arms did not tire! Krillorien’s voice did not fail! Lyria’s fingers remained deft! And Melanie’s spells struck for true! Only when the guards from without tried to strike within did the heroes slide into the hidden stairwell that Redthorn would have used himself, if halfling daggers hadn’t put an end to his reign of terror!

Down into the gaol they stole after recovering their wits, and it was there that they found good Baron Stockmer, half-starved but willing to fight. Through the postern gate they slipped, only to find elves of the Woodsinger tribe awaiting them! Dar Gramath had rallied the defenders of the Harkenwold, felled one of the mightest trees outside of Albridge and was battering down the gates even as the Iron Circle struggled to find someone to lead them! Thanks to the Heroes of Harkenwold striking the head from this iron serpent, the remnants of the body slithered away to the south, to the city they called Sarthel but good folk remember as Adamanton and…!

That, too, is a story for another time! Thank you, friends, for your attention and kindnesses! Though if you wish to convey futher kindnesses in gold and silver, this humble teller of stories would be much obliged…

Beyond the Vale: A Brief History, part 2

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast

Continued from yesterday’s post

The human lands paid due homage to their new king, and in return they were left mostly to their own devices, with minimal interference from the crown outside of taxes and requests for aid. Minor and major lords rose to power, claiming cities as their seats of power and laying claim to as much acrage as they dared. Most city-states had different patron dieties, and while for the most part they could get along, there was the occasional dogmatic squabble.

The progressives of Erathgate often chided the more militaristic people of Stormwatch, who paid homage to Kord with extensive drilling and an ancient tradition of trial by combat. Stormwatch, for their part, was interested in the engineers of Erathgate creating new means to wage war. While Daggerport and Fortune’s Harbor often traded ships and goods, the lack of a patron diety and reports of dark cults dwelling in Daggerport made some of the lovers of Avandra within Fortune’s Harbor a bit nervous. Word of these cults reached the church of Bahamut seated in Shoredale. When Daggerport-registered vessels stopped carrying pilgrims to the Bay of Bahamut far to the east, Shoredale’s duke sent ten thousand paladins and soldiers to bring the ‘free city’ to heel. Had it not been for emissaries from the king forging an uneasy peace, the battle could have been long and bloody.

Adamantine, ancestral home of the royal family, stayed out of most of these conflicts. The princes of the Adamant Keep would come to aid the crown at a moment’s notice, their arms and armor fired in the finest forges in the kingdom and possibly with a legion of dwarves in support. Adamantine was sworn to Moradin, and while the internal politics of the fortress-city was reportedly a bloody drama of betrayals, seductions and assassinations, when they rode forth they did so with the force of the hammer striking the anvil. That anvil was often a cadre of adepts from Junction, where Ioun held sway. Junction is home to many ‘prodigal’ wizards from the Tower of the Arcane, who forsake the Five Archmages’ neutrality in favor of teaching sorcerers and assisting the crown in keeping the peace. With such powerful magics, armies from Adamantine and the Sun Guard sworn to protect the crown day and night, any king seated in Nerath’s Ebon Keep was well-equipped to meet any threat to peace within the realm.

It may be for this reason that Lysander came to shore at Junction. Without warning, longships beyond count appeared in the sea, filled with vicious mercenaries of the Iron Circle and priests of Bane thirsty for revenge. Junction’s city guard crumbled before the onslaught and the prodigal arcanists were either burned, hung or disappeared mysteriously. From Junction, Lysander rode for Nerath, used ancient and forgotten passages to steal into the Ebon Keep in the dead of night, and put King Perrin to the sword, placing his head above the city’s northern gate.

The Second Nerathan Empire had begun…

Beyond the Vale: A Brief History, part 1

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast

The party of D&D characters I guide on Tuesday nights (who didn’t meet last night) is close to embarking upon a larger world. I’ve touched on some things they are likely to encounter as they leave the Nentir Vale in the larger world beyond, and I think it’s time I revise some of that historical and cultural background, so that it makes some sort of sense. My first attempt is available here, and as Ernest Hemingway reminds us, “The first draft of anything is shit.” Also, I’d like to put together an actual map of these places soon, so it’s on something other than graph paper. Anyway, here’s what I’ve laid down so far.


For several hundred years, the descendants of Nerath ruled every acre of land south of the Stonemarch and west of the Feystride. Founded on an unholy alliance of the churches of Asmodeus and Bane, their rule was an ironclad and thoroughly corrupt one. Lordlings, knights and princes all paid due homage to the crown, who in turn dispensed blessings and punishments seemingly on a whim.

Finally, the prince of Adamanton, the lord marshall of the Vale and the duke of Shoredale made entreaties to the dwarves, elves and eladrin, respectively. None of the bordering races were friends to the Empire and agreed to join the humans in overthrowing their unjust rulers. When the uprising began, a priest of Bane bundled up the Emperor’s children and fled across the sea, to the Imperial Colonies far to the west. While Bane’s word was to live to conquer another day, Asmodeus’ acolytes suggested the Emperor crush the rebellion immediately, rather than give up an iota of power. The Emperor had the lot of them killed. It is said this angered Asmodeus and caused the downfall of the first Empire, but Bane was already preoccupied with other plans.

With the Emperor slain and his forces scattered or surrendered, a brief conflict over succession followed. The other races withdrew at that point, and the prince of Adamanton won his crown. He was quick to establish lucrative trade agreements with the dwarves, arrangements for the eladrin to treat with his royal magicians and a non-agression pact with the various tribes of elves prevelant in the woods and the Vale. An uneasy peace followed…

Never Tell Me The Odds

Courtesy WoWHead and sorronia
It will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine.

Arguably one of the best lines ever to come out of Star Wars, even before the questionably valued prequels, was this tidbit snapped at C-3P0 by Han Solo just before he plunged the Millenium Falcon and its hapless passengers into a deadly asteroid field. It was a challenge, a potential deadly one, and Han went about facing it with gusto. The droid underscoring the fact that it was all but impossible was just more incentive for him to do it.

Last night I faced a similar situation. The World of Warcraft event the Lunar Festival was rapidly coming to a close. I had visited most of the Elder NPCs necessary to complete the over-arching achievement, which would earn me a new title and bring me one step closer to the Reins of the Violet Proto-Drake, a rare flying mount, as well as the means to ride it at maximum speed (saving me 4000 gold pieces). It was about two hours before midnight, when the event would end, and the Elders I needed to visit were tucked away in dungeons scattered throughout the frozen land of Northrend. My wife, who also had a few other Elders to visit, questioned the wisdom of pursuing a deadline that, in the end equation, really didn’t matter.

While on an intellectual level I know she’s right (who’s going to care about my WoW achievements after I’m dead?), I heard Han saying “never tell me the odds” as I cracked my knuckles and hopped on the north-bound zeppelin.

Long story short, there were seven Elders I had to visit, and some of them were past packs of enemies and even bosses. Thankfully, the maximum level of Hunter granted me an essential ability for this sort of thing: Camouflage. I stealthed my way through most of the dungeons, only running afoul of foes a few times. I used hidden back ways and exits to speed up my journey. The biggest challenge came when I had to face Skadi the Ruthless on my own. After a false start and a couple of inexplicable resets, my faithful ‘tank pet’ Blinky the warp stalker and I were able to take him down. I had about ten minutes to midnight. I sped past the encounter, through the pack of waiting bad guys, under the stairs and bowed to the last Elder.

The resulting audio and visual cues for the achievements earned filled me with delight. I’d done it!

I’ve written before about the merits of achievements. It seems that their appeal and the satisfaction born from putting in the effort to attain them has not diminished. Either there truly is something to the idea of extending the replay value and investments necessary to continue playing games based on these introduced elements…

…or those cues I mentioned have programmed into me a positive Pavlovian response that speaks to a deeper insidiousness amongst Blizzard’s programmers.

Which do you think it is?

And why am I craving bacon?

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