Friday, April 07, 2017

What's Next?

So the Grievous Oligarchy Party has, on behalf of those few who already have everything, have taken by hook and crook the final pillar of this old republic.  Any legitimacy of our institutions is truly forfeit.  Power and money now rule people who once ruled themselves.

And now they're going to war.  Now, it doesn't feel, to me, today, like nuclear annihilation of humanity is certain or imminent.  But it also doesn't feel very far-fetched.  And I suspect that if the day comes, for many of us it will be a bit of a surprise, even now.


Just in case we don't have a lot longer, I want to thank the people who have touched my life.  I hope I've made you smile; that's the most rewarding thing I've found in life.  My thanks to you.  To everyone who's made me smile, and who's made anybody smile.  Humanity has in many ways become a blight on this little blue orb in our little arm of our not-terribly-unique galaxy in our grand cosmos, but I'm happy to have existed.  We are what we are.  We like to pretend that isn't so, that there's "us" and "them".  I do it too.  Right up there, I call out some of us as power-hungry.  Tyrannical.  Illegitimate.  Dishonest.

We're all just humans, which have a tangled and snarly genetic ancestry.  We grew capable of guiding our own development, building our own significance.  That was a neat trick.  We don't know any other critters who managed it.  We even grew capable of authoring our own ending, releasing our own constructs.  It's a shame, it's a waste.  But that is power.

That is what we acquired.  Power does not care whether it is stolen piecemeal or granted by unanimous consent or a byproduct of natural physics.  Power made us, and will some day, some way, unmake us.  Gravitational dances of rocks wield more power than anything we humans have faffed around with.  We can shape and transform our own little sphere, to an extent.  We have the power to destroy everything everybody has ever built, and to feed and care for everybody who's here now.  Most of the time we use our power without such concentration.  Destroy a bit here, care a bit there.

So, what happens next?  There's no "them" to ask, just us.  All of us: what's next?


[ Edit about the whole "going to war" bit: It seems increasingly likely that this was just a bit of illegally-conducted theatre, but we're talking about an unstable amateur bombing an unstable region, and a complicit congress which talks big but does very little to restrain the madmanchild. Let's hope I'm overreacting, like I was about Citizens United and rich bastards lying to us. Oh wait. ]

[ Second edit: Oh for crying out loud what are we doing. ]

Thursday, March 09, 2017

Sockmonster Mk. 4

Autumn is a strange little cat.  There was no distinction in her little head between fun-exercise playing and life-or-death fighting when we first got her.  She's much less rough around the edges now, but when she's feisty, there's a bloodlust and a need for savage close-quarters combat I've not seen in a domestic cat before.  Batting a little ribbon or feather does not cut it in most cases.

In the heat of mock-battle, there's hissing and growling and grabbing and kicking and yelling.  Claws and fangs swing and chomp without restraint.  With my childhood cat, I did this kind of thing by hand, and got a little scratched up.  This one plays ROUGH - bare handed play might end in me bleeding out.  (I have seriously considered buying a falconry glove, but it would need a pretty long sleeve.)

video

By the by, it is remarkably difficult to A) record video of a cat while playing with her, and B) convince a cat to do even a very usual thing on-command.  This is the best I could get without waiting for her to decide on her own that it was feisty time.

All this brings me to my latest haphazardly-crafted object: Sockmonster Mk. 4!


This is the entire Sockmonster family line, or what's left of it.  The original Sockmonster is actually inside of Mk. 2; its skin was a much flimsier and less interestingly-textured sock, and it was the quickest to spill its (mostly plastic-bag) innards.  All but the latest incarnations have had gashes patched up with the handyman's secret weapon, duct tape.

Mk. 2 subsumed the original and added an inner skin of brown paper for extra crunchiness.  Over time the stuffing got all shoved into the end, and indeed began to get ripped out like viscera.

Mk. 3 introduced a semi-rigid spine, a nice thin chunk of plastic that would bend a bit and spring back.  I also attempted to build it with segregated internal stuffing compartments, Titanic-style, to keep the stuffing evenly distributed.  But as you may be able to tell, the mid-point is a very popular kicking target, so the spine broke and the center stuffing compartment appears to have hernia'd out.


For the fourth one, the spine is a towel rolled up as tight as I could get it.  No plastic to wear out and snap.  The stuffing is in one big tube around the spine, and of the whole thing is wrapped in a couple layers of claw-armor burlap and chompy-thick felt.

Originally, I had both ends sewn up, but the thickness and firmness of the thing made it hard to grip one-handed.  Luckily, one end was pretty weak since this whole thing was an exercise in making it up as I go, and Autumn quickly tore it open again for me.  A little stuffing out of that end, squeeze up the sides a bit and boom, handle.  Much better.  :^)  It's a collaborative process, as it turns out.

So, we'll see how this works.  As one might expect, if one were familiar with cats, now that some effort has gone into constructing a more robust Sockmonster, kitty's aforementioned interest in brutal hand-to-hand combat has begun to sharply drop off.  These days she's all about running and being chased.

I concentrated a lot on physical points of failure, but forgot that a cat toy is a failure right away if the little furball doesn't want it.  Still, we'll see.  She has her moods and phases; it may well fall into favor again one day.

Monday, March 06, 2017

How to Fix: Maddening Subpixel Font Rendering

This is mostly a note to my future self so that next time I set up a Linux machine, I don't have to re-invent this particular wheel.

Most computers nowadays, by default, display text using sub-pixel rendering.  Microsoft calls their implementation "ClearType", and I'm sure Apple has some similarly innocent-sounding name for it.  Without getting into the technical details, it's an optical illusion that, apparently, for most of the population, makes text nice and clear to read.  For me, it looks smeary, and makes my eyes continuously strain and toil to make everything all right.  They fail, and I get a mighty headache if I keep looking for too long.



Naturally, on my own computers I turn this noise the hell off.  But for a while now, there has been one niggling little hiccup where the first QT program I load (or maybe it's KDE specific, I really don't know.  All GTK and other programs are fine.) would fail to honor my very explicit settings and fall back on the default behaviour of stabbing me in the corneas.  The workaround was quick and easy, and generally if I'm at the computer I'm busy trying to do something, so I let the problem stagnate.

But in upgrading my laptop recently, I had one more little burst of attempting to figure this nonsense out, and figure it I finally did.

~/.Xresources:

Xft.autohint: 0
Xft.lcdfilter: lcdnone
Xft.hintstyle: hintnone
Xft.hinting: 0
Xft.antialias: 1
Xft.rgba: none

I don't even know which line(s) make the difference.  I just found a handful of Xft settings to try and lo, once these crunch through xrdb when the session starts, all is well.  These can go in a global Xresources file too of course.

I hope this helps somebody else, and I'm pretty sure it will at least help future me.

keywords for searching:
disable subpixel antialiasing
prevent sub-pixel anti-aliasing
qt kde first launch ignore freetype settings
why the crap do some programs use horrible blearytype font rendering
To others whose eyes are allergic to this crap but are also stuck on Windows, be warned: your Windows lies to you.  If you ask it to turn off ClearType, it will claim that it has done so and carry on smearing your text with eyeball-shredding colors.  You have to go through some crazy multi-step "Which of these looks better to you?" quiz to truly turn it off, and sometimes every one of the options presented will be using subpixel rendering.  So, as always, good luck Windows folks.

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Doubles Storytelling

I have made a toy which two people, near or far, can use to tell stories.
http://rpg2.penduin.net/

I was going to write about it here, but I wrote about it within itself instead:
http://rpg2.penduin.net/#release.json


Thursday, January 26, 2017

Gremlins and Chaos and Being

The gremlins in my head, on a quiet day, ask only that I wash my hands a bit more than an average person would.  On a raucous day, they demand that I create something and share it.  They don't ask nicely.  It doesn't matter what I come up with, whether it's any good, or with whom I share it.  This occasionally causes some embarrassment, but one learns to deal with that.  If the gremlins are ignored, they begin wreaking havoc and this fun, grumpy person becomes an un-fun grumpy person.

A side-effect of paying any attention to the world around me is that when the world goes mad, I go a bit mad with it.  Anxiety and dread leak right inside and stir the gremlins.  "Pain is good for art" and all that.  I'm a very fortunate and privileged person, and not what most would call talented, so my use of the words "pain" and "art" is a bit of a stretch.  But that's fine.  In any case, my brain gremlins and I have been on edge lately.

The gremlins are soothed by simple seeds growing into complex patterns.

I played around with randomized, low-fidelity pixel art.  8x8 noise of a single random color, mirrored for symmetry.  The human brain (well, mine anyway) will turn almost any such shape into something recognizable.  A penguin with antlers.  An armored soldier.  A dog walking upright.  A happy toad or a skull with pigtails.  Once I got a bunch of these drawing on screen, it seemed like asking the simple question "who are you?" might be interesting.



The gremlins like music; during worrisome times, songs get stuck in my head far more easily than usual.  Recently my noggin was cycling this Cat Stevens song, for reasons I won't try to understand.


The bit that kept rolling around in my brain was "if you want to be me, be me".  Might it be interesting to have some kind of interactive mechanic that boils down to "be me" when you meet someone?  Well, I already had plenty of random pixel people to meet.



You can see I've got some other stuff going on there too.  Random names, offspring from mathematically averaging the pixel characters.  I also threw something together to randomly build up a map.  And some random special rooms for whatever weird tools and functions I was playing with. And gave each character random traits that determine what and how they can see, where they can go, how they get noticed.

Why I stuck with an Atari aesthetic (including directions and one action button) I do not know.  Why I wrote the code almost entirely on my phone during insomnia hours rather than from the comfort of a proper computer, I do not know.  Why I named it "RPG1" and retrofitted a bunch of acronyms in its manual, I do not know.

What I do know is that from the chaos, some interesting effects cropped up.  As a moose I traded feet with a bunch of bananas, and suddenly I could go places I could not reach before.  I was a butterfly who talked with and became a spring-propelled robot, after which I could not see the butterfly anymore.  As a thief, I met a two-headed bird and had a screen full of three-headed turtle babies.

Play online:  http://rpg1.penduin.net

It's a bit of a hot mess, but there.  Happy, gremlins?  No?  You already have some more stupid little projects lined up?  Hm.  Gonna be an interesting few years to be me.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Inaugur- (wretch)

Here it is.  The new age, where nothing makes sense and the more asinine it sounds, the more likely it is to be happening.  Good, evil, right, wrong, fact, fiction, none of it means anything.  Things just are.  Because loud, proud ignorance says so.

It's an interesting time to be alive.  I've never been bored in my life, but I would sure love to try it.  As it is, though, I'm going to be angry and frustrated and terrified and indignant for some time.  I'd say something like "four years", but let's not assume time or space or anything else are comprehensible phenomena anymore.  Or that dissidents like myself won't be jailed or hanged by then.  Or that all life on Earth won't have simply been obliterated by nuclear weapons.  Nothing's given, things just are.  Because small, spiteful vanity says so.

So far, the worst expectations I could muster have only ended up demonstrating the limits of my own imagination.  But my dense optimism means everybody here has one more ally -- I will stay and fight.  The temptation to abandon this poisoned ship and its lunatic captain will be overwhelming, but we have to stand strong.  Because courage and right and decency say so.  Those things don't exist in this age, true enough, so it falls to each of us to create them.

Dissent is patriotic.  We shall overcome.  [Inspirational quip #3 not found.]

Wednesday, November 09, 2016