A Breton's Lament

So there I was, languishing in the Imperial Prison, when in comes a trio of Blades and the Emperor himself - Uriel Septim VII. No, I'm not jesting. Apparently my cell was directly in the path of their escape route.

The blades were none too happy about it, but the Emperor let me follow along... and then, when the assassins attacked, he told me to find his son, confront the Daedra Lord Dagon, and close the Gates to Oblivion.

I always knew I'd pursue a life of adventure. I mean, my oldest brother was always going to inherent Dad's alchemy practice, and our sister was constantly being groomed for an advantageous marriage; so there wasn't much left for me, except clearing out necromancers and goblins and bandits in the wilderness. And to be honest, that suited me just fine. For one thing, the idea of spending days in the shop and nights in the lab, well... boooorrrring. For another, there's good money to be made as an adventurer, at least if you can avoid taking an arrow in the knee or being gruesomely ripped to pieces by trolls.

What I'm saying, I guess, is that at least I wasn't just some random farmer when the Emperor asked to save his son and take on a Daedra Lord. I'd been expecting a life of creeping down darkened corridors, unraveling ancient magics, and facing powerful enemies in mortal combat. I knew how to use a blade and move while wearing armor. I could move quietly, and open recalcitrant locks - though, admittedly, that was what had landed me in prison in the first place. And I could use magic to heal myself, or to throw fire at my enemies, or to see in the dark...

...Sort of.

See, the reason - the whole, entire, only reason - that I'd studied Illusion magic was so I could learn to see in the dark. Because, when you're creeping through nighted corridors in search of bloodthirsty bandits, you basically want two things: you want to see the bandits, and you want them not to see you.

So what did old Urgle Gro-Barsnich teach me? She taught me a light spell. That's right: a light spell.

So now, when I'm creeping down a pitch-dark corridor with danger on every side, I can glow in the dark. This accomplishes two things:

1. I can see. I can, in fact, see things a good three or four feet in front of me.

2. Anything and everything around can see me - no matter how far away I am.

As you might imagine, this has not done a lot to improve my ability to sneak around unseen. In fact, the only thing I've successfully crept up on is a single goblin, and the only reason I managed that is because he had his back to me and was staring at a camp fire.

What has improved is my skill with armor - being constantly battered by unseen attackers will do that to you. And, even more than that, it's improved my skill with healing magics. You would not believe how much practice I get with that.

So what I'm going to do is this: I'm going to find the Emperor's son. I'm going to give him the amulet. I'm going to confront the Daedra Lord Dagon. And then, just before the last Gate to Oblivion closes, I'm going to grab Urgle Gro-Barsnich and shove her through it.

Bloody Orcs. Bloody light spells...

Story ideas born from memes...

Over on her Livejournal, Martha Wells is experimenting with a meme: tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you one sentence from that story. Which looked like fun, so I thought about it and posted this:

Once there was an air-captain whose sailbeast got caught in a sudden storm, and crashed atop one of the great mountain-turtles that circle the edges of the civilized lands. Trapped in the strange high wilderness of the Upper Shell, she would need all her ingenuity and courage - not only to survive, but to forage for her sailbeast until its gas-bladder healed enough to fly again.

And, of course, having casually dropped that in the comments, I found myself thinking, I should write that story. It would be a young adult adventure - probably - and quite a lot of fun.

So, I copied it over to help me remember it for later. 'Cause it really would be fun to write.

And if anybody wants to try that meme out here, go ahead. Tell me about a story, and I'll give you one sentence from that story.

Assessing the Horror of Windows 8

I bought a new laptop (early Christmas present - some of the money was mine, and some was gifts). It came in, and I charged it up. And yesterday, just before I left work, I decided to turn it on and finish setting it up. You know, the usual stuff for a new Windows & Stuff installation on a pre-loaded computer. Uninstall the junk, add the programs I actually use, and arrange things where I can find them - that sort of thing.

Or, at least, that was the plan.

What actually happened - and remember, I've got XP on the old laptop and Windows 7 at work, and I haven't bothered to look up anything about Windows 8, because really how different is it likely to be? What actually happened was, well... Okay, I'm just going to copy my Facebook post from 5:12 p.m. yesterday:

Just fired up Windows 8 and OMG WHAT IS THIS WHERE DID MY PROGRAMS GO!?!?!?!?

Ahem. Pardon that. It's time to go home, anyway, so I'll just... WAIT A SECOND, WHERE THE HELL DID THE SHUT DOWN BUTTON GO!?!?!?!?!? No, no, deep breaths... Google is my friend, Google is my friend, Google is my... wait, they put it WHERE? You get to it HOW? Okay, well, I guess that worked...

Right, so... I'll just go home, eat dinner, and then figure out how to find programs from the desktop. Calmly. Quietly. I mean sure, the layout's a little unfamiliar, but how hard can it be, really?

The ominous music in the background suggests that I'm going to be indulging in primal screams quite a lot over the next few days.

Here's the thing: Windows 8 was apparently designed with a whole bunch of new features, and nothing that even vaguely resembles a smooth transition from the way you did things in previous versions of Windows. Any previous versions of Windows. No, really - the system boots into a startup screen which comes pre-loaded with a mess of different apps. Which, if I'd wanted that sort of thing on my laptop, I'd have bought a Mac in the first place. Then, once you finally locate the one that says "desktop" and manage to escape, you quickly discover that "desktop" doesn't mean what it used to, either. Huge, glaring example: there's no Start Menu. You remember the Start Menu, right? The button in the lower left corner that's been the go-to spot for pretty much anything you wanted to do since back in Windows 95? Yeah. Gone. Want a list of available programs? Good luck. Apparently you're supposed to go back to the splash screen with all the apps - except that, if you're me, you've just spent the last few minutes ruthlessly uninstalling anything you didn't want, which was most of it. You've also unpinned all the programs from the taskbar in the Desktop view, because who wants all that crap sitting down there?

So not only can I not find a list of programs on my new laptop, I've also made it functionally impossible to, for example, set my homepage in Internet Explorer. In fact, I had to open Windows Explorer (with a keyboard shortcut!) and navigate to the Program Files in order to launch the benighted browser in any sort of recognizable format. Don't get me wrong - I'd left it intact on the Apps screen, but the version that opens from there is barely recognizable as IE, and completely lacks those menu items - or menu items at all, for that matter.

But, okay, surely there's a setting in the Control Panel that will fix this. This thought reassured me briefly, until I discovered that A) I couldn't find the control panel, and then - once I finally located it - B) there is no such setting. Using that Apps screen that comes up at startup? You're stuck with it.

So the marketing strategy here is clearly to saddle you with a bunch of stuff you don't want but can't escape, thereby forcing you to use it anyway - until Stockholm Syndrome sets in and you come to believe that you actually love this interface. This is not something I have a lot of patience for.

However, I have more than just my profound irritation to fall back on. I have Google. And a search on "How do I find my programs in Windows 8" produces a number of promising leads. There's a method for creating a new toolbar on the taskbar, which looks promising but proves unsatisfying. And then there are several articles, with links, which describe programs that will give you back a working start menu. There are at least half a dozen to choose from - and that's just from the first article I read - and probably half of them offer some way to suppress the startup/app view, which should give you some idea of how badly Microsoft screwed the pooch by leaving the Start Menu out. I picked one that sounded about like what I wanted, installed it, and - Voila! - now I have a Start Menu, and access to my programs!

Open Source resolves what corporate rectal cranioendomesis will not.

So I'm getting Windows 8 hammered down into doing what I want, and hopefully today I'll be able to load my files onto the new laptop and really give it a test drive. But it's worth noting that I'm doing it in complete defiance of the will of the OS developers. It's worth keeping that in mind if you're considering buying a new machine. And it might be worth asking your vendor if it's possible to get the same machine with Windows 7 instead of Windows 8... because, hey, at least then you'll have some idea of what you're getting into.

Warrior Take-out

I have, here on the desk beside me, a take-out cup from the Genghis Grill. If you're unfamiliar with the restaurant chain, all you really need to know is this: They're a choose-your-own-ingredients stir-fry place with a Genghis Khan motif, so their branding tends to focus on warrior imagery and puns on the word "khan".

Case in point: my carry-out cup. It has the Genghis Grill logo on the front, of course. Then, on the back, it offers the following... um... proverb? Slogan? Anyway:

Warriors Don't Sip
THEY GULP
I have two issues with this:

1. The techical term is "quaff".
2. How do straws figure into this, anyway?

In their defense, I imagine that using a cup with a plastic lid and a straw does make you rather less likely to spill your soda on your horse while you're riding into battle...

Harduk The Slayer and the Father-In-Law of Doom

Harduk shoved the blanket aside and sat up. Nissa lay at his side, still snoring gently. Judging by the sun, the boat was still on course. Nearmis Oddbottom was sitting beside the rudder.

Harduk blinked, shook his head, and reached for a water-skin. He was in no hurry to leave the blankets. He had arrived on that island wearing only a loincloth. Now he was not even sure where that had gone.

When he looked again, the wizard was still there.

"Well," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"You destroy my ruins, kidnap and despoil my daughter, and you have to ask?"

Harduk was silent for the space of several breaths. He was very much aware of Nissa; her presence was probably the only reason the wizard hadn't destroyed him already.

"You and Duke Decantar," he said, and took another swig of water. "I spoke with your daughter last night, after we'd had our fun. I'm not your enemy, wizard. I'm the instrument of Nissa's curse. She made me to disrupt your work, so that she could have a normal life." He paused, yawning wide enough to crack his jaws. "Also, as of the middle of last night, I'm your son-in-law."

"WHAT?"

Harduk shrugged. He'd killed wizards before, but he was finding this exchange far more satisfying. "I'm the captain of this ship. I conducted the ceremony, and she summoned... beings... to witness it. She's a married woman, now - of her own free will - and no longer your concern."

The wizard's face was a frozen mask. "Harduk the Slayer, I will kill you."

Harduk shrugged. "You'll have your chance," he said. "After the wedding, Nissa tried to lift her curse... but she failed. Until she does, I'm still drawn to your ruins. So you keep building them, and I'll keep stumbling into them, and we'll see who survives." He paused, then added: "Does that sound like a hobby that could keep you entertained, old man?"

Nearmis Oddbottom's expression was purest fury for a moment longer. Then it cracked, and he chuckled. "Yes," he said, "I suppose it might. I'll need to add more death-traps, of course."

"Of course," agreed Harduk. No true son of Distractia could be intimidated by death-traps, even if Distractia had never existed save as the imagined source of a young sorceress' dreams of escape. "Just leave in the treasures, so I have some reason to explore."

"Oh, never fear," said the wizard. "There'll be treasure aplenty, for the man bold enough to seek it."

"Until that day, wizard." Harduk smiled.

"Until I kill you, son-in-law."

Here ends this tale of Harduk the Slayer.

Filler: The Parent Rap

Party of Awesome Campaign Platform

Good people, I am pleased to announce the first draft of my political platform. Here you will learn about the things I stand for, and the goals I will work towards if elected Emperor. Remember, a vote for Michael Mock is a vote for Awesome.

1. The Party of Awesome is comprehensively pro-bacon. We will work to reduce bacon prices, increase the national bacon supply, and improve bacon availability. However, we will not force bacon on anyone. (As the scriptures say, "The bacon which must be forced upon the tongue is not the true bacon.")

2. We can dance if we want to. Also, we can leave your friends behind - because your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance then they're no friends of mine.

3. The Party of Awesome also supports a clean energy initiative. Specifically, we intend to harness the limitless energy of America's toddlers by hanging cookies in front of treadmills. Our researchers assure us that will provide more than enough electricity for the foreseeable future, and also help wear the kids out so that they'll finally go to sleep at bedtime.

4. The Party of Awesome pledges to institute Zombie Defense Training initiatives in all public schools, and provide curriculum for private schools to use at their discretion. Additional programs to cover related threats such as lycanthropy and vampirism are still being developed.

5. We will abolish Daylight Savings Time, because it annoys me.

6. The Party of Awesome will work to implement laws (at either the State or Federal level) limiting the display of holiday decorations and the playing of holiday music to no more than three weeks before the relevant holiday. Also, anyone producing Christmas music will be required to create their own new melodies and lyrics, rather than recycling parts of older tunes.

So, fellow Americans: tell me what you think. What am I missing? What other burning issues should be included in our Awesome platform?