BA Quest: An English Major Seeks a Job

You ever heard the one about the English major? He spent four years getting his degree in Unemployment. People also think English majors all become teachers, so does that mean, "Those that can't do, teach," is a joke on English majors as well?

I can understand the animosity. As degrees go, English is ambiguous and archaic. Are English majors humanitarians, all hoping to be the glistening angel in some young person's life? A goal like that is soft. Teaching young children is seen as feminine in the states, a pampering job, a maternal job. Do English majors comb old tomes, digesting tidbits from the long dead? Then they're seen as useless to our fast moving present. What still remains to be read? Maybe English majors are artist yearning to be superstars? If so, they sure chose the wrong profession. Writers are just above fashion designers and right below wrestlers in the grand fame hierarchy.

Unfortunately, I'm an English major. Even worse, I'm one by choice. I have no intention of teaching. I don't read classics all day. My writing won't be on a best-seller list anytime soon. I have no intention of being a superstar, but I will be a writer. Nothing will change that part of me, barring some incident that puts me in a coma. So what is a poor English major to do?

When I was preparing to graduate, my first goal was to get the most boring job I could manage. This is still an option. Nothing makes you want to go home and write like a mind numbing desk job. That's something that doesn't occur to people, a writer can write no matter what their job is. I have answered phones before. Seven hours of answering phones, repeating the same message, and entering data. I have a notepad full of doodles from that job. Nothing motivates you to draw a spaceman like hearing a woman complain about her 13 year old.

Now I have a new plan, forged in the embers of summer weather. It is the sort of plan to be proud of. A plan full of conviction, passion. A plan that shapes the future, based on what matters most. A plan that can be easily canceled the second things don't go my way. Which is something I'm prepared for, I finished an English degree after all.

You see, I love games. Not just video games, but board games, tabletop games, card games, pen and paper games. Since I was young, I've wanted to use my stories for games. In elementary school, I planned my own games out on paper. My friend and I mailed off a game idea to Nintendo, in the 4th grade. They sent a polite rejection. Maybe I would be better off now, if they told me to get lost. Instead I tried to write super hero stories in Jr. High school. In High school, I wrote game reviews for my friend's website.

Everything changed in college. University gave me a chance to take classes that actually related to my craft. With a full schedule of classes about classics and basics, I had no time to dream. School washed me clean of my aspirations. My mind was refocused on literature. I'm thankful, I never want to lose that knowledge. As I took my last classes, I realized that I didn't need to sacrifice what I was about. Literature is about people, and writing becomes what you care about.

So I need a job. Not any job, a job that lets me be myself. My game loving, nerd-centric, dry humored self. Which means some very odd job hunting. Trust me, careerbuilder.com isn't good for writing work. I guess this is the best place to track my progress. I need to change my resume, get myself out there, and go on plenty of interviews. Hopefully everything works out, because I'm ready to give up at the first sign of difficulty.

Ride Astride the Beast: Prologue and Explanation

Among those who call themselves gamers, by social permission or through an equal transcendence in respect of the medium, there is a great distinction between persons. A gamer either plays WoW, that is Blizzard's World of Warcraft, or they do not. At 12 million subscriptions, WoW's numbers outrank all the state of Ohio, and dwarf my own home state. Its players range from the light-hearted social player who takes the game an hour at a time, to the hardened warrior who ranks the in-game raids just below breathing and right above defecation. With its large audience, wide appeal, and addictive framework, WoW is the behemoth of its genre, the kodo beast in the room if you will allow me to get into the mood.

It is also a game that I have never played, and had no intention of playing. Between my arrogance, ignorance, and need to hate on anything more popular than myself, I have never given World of Warcraft its fair chance. I have judged the game on its players, on its culture, and any other object I could use to differentiate it from myself. But as with the motto of the Royal Society, "nullius in verba", I realize now that I should "take no one's word for it". I will confront the beast first hand, and though I dangle myself before its horrid white flesh, my hope is to come out with limbs and sanity intact. This I do out of a sense of duty, pride, and boredom. 

As a man of 23 years, I was playing video games before I stopped wetting the bed. Mario was my babysitter, and Dragon Warrior 3 my tutor. My genre of choice are Strategy and RPGs, the second rather important to this exercise with WoW placing itself within the 'Role-Playing Games' genre with its MMORPG subgenre classification. My MMO credentials run a range of games, recent and old; Ultima Online, City of Heroes, Guild Wars, Warhammer Online, Planetside, Dungeons and Dragons Online, and trials of Lord of the Rings Online, Pirates of the Burning Sea, APB, and the Matrix Online. These games usually have similar buildings blocks, mostly the prototypical MMOs of Ultima Online and Everquest, yet all have their own twist.

To come at this game, I will play as one character for a 10 day trial, possibly more if the game warrants it. I will play with as many friends as I can manage to play with, to create the proper setting and social interaction an MMO requires. My server of choice will be Destromath, my faction Horde. From here I had to make a hard choice, since race and class will definitely warp my playing experience. Yet I have played enough MMOs to know what will interest me, and to know how to overcome in game challenges. So because of this I will play an Orc Rogue, not because this is a particularly good combination, but because it is what interest me.

This page will chronicle my time in the game. I will at times post in character in a fashion I hope will be considered humorous, others I will post out of character to summarize my experiences from that of a man who has played games for over 15 years of his life. I hope to have everyone's support in this, both during and in the aftermath of what will be my greatest flirtation with darkness since I, as a teetotaller, took a shot at a christmas party.

I cross my fingers that this all goes well, for the love of the game, for the sake of fairness, and most of all for the horde.

PAX: "Guild Wars 2"

I have loved the original Guild Wars ever since it was sold to me with a masterful misdirection. The idea implanted in my mind was that the choices of skills going into a round of PvP in Guild Wars was like building a deck for Magic the Gathering. They told me something was going to be like something I liked, building decks. It was unfair really, I had no options at that point. Turning away from the game would have meant lying to my self, while following the game meant accepting what I knew was on some level a lie.

Guild Wars was special though. Not just its monthly fee (which is non-existant), but in the structure. It was a PvP game first, and that was the difference. The game was built around it, the way you made a character, the way items were balanced, the abilities were crafted to it. We couldn't hide this, not when one overpowered team composition could lead to PvE changing when an ability was 'rebalanced'.

It was all in the title. Guilds would fight one another, war even. You knew what the game was about just by picking it up. I played for years, took months off but always came back. I could play a little alone, but the game shined when my friends and I created teams that we hoped could take on all comers. They rarely could, but it is never about the result of a journey now is it? Laughs were had, frustrations were vented, people raged and new ideas were formed by the steam. Then we would try yet again.

So, having a chance to play Guild Wars 2 is something close to touching a warped memory. I know the world, I know the races and classes, yet this was not my Guild Wars. The system for everything seemed different, the game moved fluid in PvE, things were not the same.

The creators let fly facts as I waited to play. The game had dynamic events, connecting players to fight great beast that had no schedule, and could show when you least expect it. Weapons related to your skills, 10 now instead of the 8 I remember being compared to a 60 card magic deck. With the weapons you equip, some of your skills automatically change with, making them so much more important.

This felt like, dare I say it, a PvE focused game. It was a world where people roamed the overmap, and fought large monsters, hoping to defeat it and get cool loot.These were things that 'could' be done in their own ways in Guild Wars, but in the end it was all to benefit that all important war. You leveled so you could fight other guilds, you got money so you could buy gear to fight other guilds. The game was not deep, but it did not feel the need to be.

So I worried, even as I enjoyed my time as a ferocious Charr warrior. I enjoyed the carnal ripping of my enemies, but wondered what I might lose in the PvP sections of the game. There were aspects I liked, the events reminded me of the community merging open quest of WAR. The skills reminded me of my past love, Guild Wars. Yet it was the movement, smooth and intentful, that doomed it.

Yet it has the benefit of the doubt. Unlike The Old Republic, storytelling will not drive this game through boredom. I will stick to it though, let it take me where it wants to go, and at least give it a shot. No monthly fee says it cannot be so bad as to ruin me.

PAX: "Star Wars: The Old Republic"

The Old Republic has always represented something to me. Call it a promise, or a wish, or just plain old hater's hope. You see, I've never been a fan of WoW, most MMOs can't hold my attention actually. I've played quite a few, some of them longer than others; Ultima Online, Warhammer Online, Eve, Guild Wars, City of Heroes, Lord of the Rings, DnD Online, Planetside, so many MMOs. Some have been good, some have been bad, others have been atrocious. They all though, have been excuses for busywork.

There are exceptions, Guild Wars and Planetside in particular were excuses to fight as a party, but MMOs have a horrible track record of being more about some random guy in a field sending me off to do his chores than about any grand adventure. If I wanted to be sent to do random chores and awarded with inexplicable inventory, I could just play Animal Crossing, and at least that way I'd be able to get T. Nook off my back.

The expectation for MMOs is not high. They are comrade games, meant to be played with a group of people you agree with, so as to make even the most mind-numbing task seem enjoyable. You laugh, you argue, you dick each other over, and everyone has a blast. This works with other genres as well, but MMOs thrive on this. When the player associates the game with good feelings instead of the friendly fun, they are now a customer for life. Wonder why your friend went from playing with only you to playing more without you than with you? Wonder why your significant other can choose the game over you? Well wonder no more.

So what is the promise of Star Wars the Old Republic? Story, that's what. Story that pulls the game together instead of leaving it as a jumbled mess of events that sort of make you do important things. The full extent of Bioware's dedication to this promise isn't known yet, won't be known for nearly a year when the game is released, but I have a dream. I want my stupid collection quest to only occur when it makes sense, if I'm collecting droid scraps, let it be to fix my ship so I can get off a rim world, if I'm killing krayt dragons, let it be to prove to my Sith master that I'm ready for my final trial.

This isn't rocket surgery, no gamer should need to lie to themselves to enjoy what their game requires. We should want to continue because we want to know what comes next. We should want the story to bloom around us.

Star Wars: The Old Republic, is not a WoW killer, I won't dub a game that anytime soon. I don't need it to do anything to WoW, I simply need it to survive long enough for me to play through it, 8 times maybe (once for each class).

The gameplay all looks particularly normal, the mechanics are not unique. There is space flight, but it is watered down. There is a cover system, but that is for two classes who both do it differently. This game is not unique under the hood, it is all about the surface here. The story, the presentation, this is supposed to be the deal sealer, and so far I am sealed.

Even as I first played it, as a huge Twi'lek scoundrel, I found myself killing a few random enemy soldiers and clicking on buildings that glowed slightly. The game may as well have told me to collect separatist helmets the way I was killing these guys. I had a reason though, I couldn't get off the planet unless the enemy forces had their scramblers destroyed. My character wanted off that rock, and I wanted to know where he was going. No need to read a stupid quest log, I heard my character say this, he wanted off and anyone who got in his way was going to eat a grenade.

There was the spine tingling difference.

The references to past games I love, the colorful and characterful presentation, these are all just bonuses. SW:TOR, keep it up and I'm on board for sure.

PAX: Day Two

Day two had a different purpose, and everyone could feel it. While day one was visceral, instinct driving everyone to raw experiences within the expo halls. Day two was about learning, nothing important to anyone else, or anyone of grand importance. The plan was to enrich yourself in the field we all agreed upon, the game.

A short course on Women's Studies, or a Journalism class, Leadership courses, or maybe Graphic Design. Here though there were no credits, no days of homework rolling in and out, and the professors were the very people who ran the fields in question. Classrooms that lasted for an hour, snuggled into small rooms with big screens and long hanging microphones. Classrooms that began with explosive presentations, and ended with Q&A. These were panels, nearly as varied as the people at the convention, and scattered to every floor of the building.

These panels have a problem though, since many students didn't wait hours at a time just to squeeze into their morning class. They are limited, one shot at one time, and there is never enough space. A room that can fit 100 can attract 500 visitors, and woe be to those who thought it was enough to show up on time. Or the fool like me who thinks he can go from one panel to another, when one ends when another begins.

I wanted three panels, one on writing in the game industry, one simply for the joy of watching others play the game, and the last to learn more about an upcoming release. I had to drop one, for time alone, and my evening still felt pressed for time. I skipped playing a small game that caught my eye, simply to find enough time to get off my feet.

My last 'class' did not disappoint though, and my evening ended with the bang of new surprises and renewed anticipation for a game I've always wanted. This was the joy of new information, a hype engine that runs on solar power.

Day two winded down, and now all that's left is to rest, and prepare for the final day. There are so many things I've yet to try, and one more day to give them a shot.

PAX: Day One

You truly know its here when you have trouble sleeping the night before, roll over endlessly in your bed, waiting for the sun to rise and the fun of tomorrow to begin. No, this isn't Christmas, though close enough for some. Santa's little venture at the end of Summer.

This was waking up for Pax. Even though the rest of my family was up just as early for the birth of my new niece in about 5 hours, I was focused elsewhere. Even then, when my ride came calling, I wasn't fully dressed, and my packing job was left a lot to be desired. I didn't know what to do, if I should bring this food or that, these cloths or those, what I would need and how much of it. We tucked into the little black ride and went to the meet. The pax goers, the pax group, some having been there every year since High School, others a little newer. Hotel money was collected, cars were organized, and we were off for the long drive to Seattle.

The long drive was made even longer by the crowded streets of Seattle. A zig zag of one ways and uncooperative GPS lead to white knuckles, Pax was close, and few obstacles hung in our way. Valets and bag checks concluded, it was time for the first stage of pax: lines.

We did good this year. Every year Pax begins with a huge line of nerds and nerdettes outside the building, waiting for the hall to open. Within the last few years, this line actually became a line for the exposition hall, where new games were shown and swag was given away. Anyone who was anyone knew that if you waited 30 minutes after the expo hall was open, the line would be gone, and you could just walk in normally for the rest of the day, so we skipped that line completely, to go to another line. This one for the theater, which was a five or so minute walk away, and had already reached Space Mountain-like proportions. It actually circled the building a full time, and those like us, waiting for the Keynote at the end of the line, were stuck looking through windows at those at the very FRONT of that queueing debacle.

So we left, somehow managing to skip one line, wait in a line, yet get no benefit out of either.

Women and Men swarmed the building, dressed in every color and shape of dress imaginable. Outfits society would imagine should bring shame; like a hooker in short shorts and stockings, some were dressed for the job. In under a minute I saw Poo from Earthbound, Vega from Street Fighter, and a girl wearing fishnets and a mini-skirt who just seemed to like her legs.

We made it to the Expo hall though, packed to the wall with new games, retro games, big games and Indie games. People waited in more lines, experiencing things they before trusted to the words of underpaid game journalist. I saw games that made my mouth water, drilled at my ear drums, and nearly burned my eyes out. The floor was hot with as many anticipated titles as I could hope for, and held a few surprises as well.

I moved through the smell, a scent varied by location and not altogether unpleasant, to start on my mission. There were objectives, few and easy to achieve, but each was required to fulfill the journey that was Pax. Games that needed to be played, and swag that needed to be obtained.

Day One is coming to a close, one objective is already complete, and the nightly concerts are about to begin. These sweaty, digital raves are both a godsend and a hell of their own, creating a bath of energy that cannot be resisted, escaped, yet is not always likened to joy.

I cannot wait for Day Two.