Sims 3!

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Sims can now be made fatter than ever before, and the polygon count in their butt is greatly increased so they no longer look angular when you fatten them up. The rest is details.

I have been known to say that The Sims 2 was the best computer game ever made in our sector of the galaxy. I believe that was correct, at the time.  But then came The Sims 3. And it is good.

What I mean is that it is not good in the metaphysical “good vs evil” meaning.  It is a rather value-neutral tool, like its predecessors. But for those of us who have convinced ourselves (if no one else) that we have higher goals in life, it is rather disconcerting to come home from work, pop in the disk and soon after look up to find it is midnight.  Time is arguably our most valuable resource, and this game eats it the way grade school boys eat candy.  That is why I think the game may find a less than favorable judgment.  But that must be weighed against all the people who would have spent that time watching TV, or worse, idly chatting and gossiping. Eating their time would surely be a good thing. So in the end, who knows whether it is good or evil. But it sure is good as opposed to bad.

The Sims 2 sprouted a total of 8 expansion packs that introduced new aspects such as university education, seasons, hobbies and pets.  With Sims 3 we are back to  basics, but the game has picked up some of the greatest successes from those expansions, such as fishing and gardening.  The pets are still absent, and I would be surprised if there won’t be another expansion pack or many, down the road.

From The Sims (1) to Sims 2  there was a major upgrade of the graphics, from small simple sprites to detailed 3D characters.  The change to Sims 3 is much less noticeable.  There are more body shapes – it is now possible to make genuinely fat-looking sims, or muscular sims, not just the old choice between skinny and slightly chubby.  And it is possible to put pretty much any color or pattern on clothes, meaning you only need a different model for each shape, not for each color, as these are user-defined.  Hair too can now be colored directly when you create a sim, rather than by expert “custom content creators” who make pre-defined models.  But the graphics are not overall more realistic than before.  The game world is still a bit cartoonish, probably by choice. It is certainly not like the realism in roleplaying games such as Oblivion or Dark Age of Camelot, which could be easily passed off as actual photographs. The upside is that any computer that could run Sims 2 with a few expansions should also be able to run Sims 3 right out of the box.

Speaking of “right out of the box”, the game comes on a common install DVD for both Windows and Mac. This is still rare and bound to cause great joy among the Mac gamers. I popped the DVD in my laptop with Ubuntu Linux and WINE (a free environment for running well-behaved Windows programs without Windows).  The setup started without a hitch, and ran roughly 95% through before it stopped without a word.  I guess there are still limits to what it will run on, but man, that was close!  Better luck with Sims 4.  Unless someone makes an open-source competitor before that…

The biggest change is neither to the graphics nor the character creator, but to the gameplay.  Oh, it is the same old at the most basic level, the sims still need to eat and sleep and pee with alarming regularity, much like the rest of us.  But whereas the big jump from Sims to Sims2 was the introduction of the life cycle (you must have children because you die), so the new feature is the living neighborhood.  (Or should I say the dying neighborhood, as the non-player sims now also marry, have children, grow old and die, whereas in Sims2 they would stay young forever.)

In order for the “townies” (the characters you don’t play) to live their ordinary life, they must be smarter than they used to be.  This carries over to the sims you control.  They may still win the Darwin award if left to themselves, but it is far from certain.  They now start to get concerned about food 24 hours before they would actually die, and will take steps to feed themselves even if there is something funny to do.  (Some gamers may want to learn from them in that regard…)

The sims’ personalities are completely revamped.  This probably counts as the other big change to the game, besides the living neighborhood.  In the past, all sims had 5 personality sliders:  Sloppy-neat, shy-outgoing, lazy-active, serious-playful and mean-nice. Each of these could vary on a scale from 0 to 10.  For instance my self-sim would be have 0 outgoing points, having very little need for social interaction.  In Sims 3, all this is gone. Instead there are now a few dozen personality traits, of which you have five.  (If you grow your own sims from childhood you start with two for toddlers and add more as they age up.) Some of these are good, some are bad, and some just strange.

For instance, my self-sim would be a Good Unflirty Loner Genius Computer wiz. In fact, this was the personality I gave my first (and so far only) created sim.  And she does indeed behave disturbingly like me. Her goodness is essentially wasted because she has no one around to be good to. Except for the occasional wish to donate money to charity, she could just as well have been evil.  Nobody will know anyway. Or at least that was the case until I finally had the money to buy a cheap computer.  Now she is chatting on the Net pretty much every night. OK, so that is not like me, but then the in-game computer does not have a blog feature, it seems. So let us see if she ever gets to know anyone well enough to do something good for them.  It sure is hard to pull off in real life. Even before Sims 3 ate my day (and much of my night as well).

Demons inside

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This is not a broken mirror, although it is heading that way. It is certainly not working as intended.  Seeing someone else in the mirror is usually a sign that things are pretty bad. But sometimes you only fail to see yourself.

I woke up this morning (which is a good thing) and what’s more, I woke up to the clock radio (another good thing, as it had somehow failed to wake me yesterday, as the volume was mysteriously turned down to zero, causing me to come a bit late to the course where we learned to use our new software tool.  I caught up though.)  The song they were playing was certainly suited to wake me up as well. Even not knowing who was singing (Anne Grete Preus turns out to be fairly famous here) I knew this was a work of the Adversary, that is to say, the spiritual current that takes me farther from my goal.  Your goal may vary.

The song was plain and had the more impact for it.  I shall simply translate it into plain English as well.  (Norwegian readers should be able to locate the lyrics by searching for the word “spøkelseshær”  (army of ghosts), which is uncommon in our language. )

A song about when you see yourself in broken mirrors
And dig up the terrain when the map is wrong
When the world goes against you
is anyway
no one as hard-working as
the demons inside oneself.

Let’s pause there.  So far it is disturbingly true. Of course, there are more than one type of demons, we’ll come back to that soon.  But the blatant demons that make life hard for even those who don’t believe in demons, they are more reasonably described as “mind parasites”.  I picked up that phrase from Robert W. Godwin, not sure if he made it himself.  Jung called them complexes. In computing, we actually use the word “daemon” about independent processes that mind some limited task on their own, like fetching or delivering mail.  In essence, these are parts of our psyche that don’t answer to the conscious I.  They do what they bloody well want, either to help or to hinder or simply ignoring their host as they pursue their own agenda.  At worst, they seem to take a perverse pleasure in making life miserable.

To no small extent, these mind parasites are downloaded from one’s parents or other family members during early childhood, which explains why they are so resistant to logic: They were ingrained before we had even a coherent view of the physical world, much less abstractions like logic. It is certainly possible to acquire, cultivate and even create mind parasites later in life as well, but the early ones tend to be the most powerful, and often there are early events that carry the seed for later ones.  For instance, our very early exploration of sexual and erotic nature may not be very positive, but this is unlikely to become much of an issue until puberty, at which point it may get magnified to disastrous proportions.  Also our relationship with food may take years or decades to reach its full magnitude, and yet in the end may maim or kill us.

No opposition from outside is likely to reach quite the level of tormenting power that a complex or mind parasite has, lodged in the very psyche like some kind of festering infection.

I don’t want to see you there anymore
You fight with shadows and an army of ghosts
For you are good enough
more than good enough
Good enough
as you are.

I’m not usually tormented by the voices in my head.  There is some reasonable paranoia (reasonable in the context of having spent all my adult life in a job which would strongly motivate some small part of the populace to attack me on sight if they knew, or at least make my life unpleasant in whatever way they could get away with).  But for the most part, I lead a rather paradisical life.  But that is not really my goal.  Well, in theory it is not.  In practice, it is very hard to break out of paradise upward.  Which is why most of those who have escaped it and continued their spiritual journey, have done so by being forcibly evicted from paradise.  Illness, economic ruin, the death of a loved one, or some other calamity.  I would rather not incite fate that badly, of course.

The Adversary, as I mentioned above, the countercurrent that contradicts the cosmic love, will happily keep the tormented in torment for as long as they live.  But failing that, it will work just as hard to keep the oblvious in oblivion.  And so for those of us who were comparatively blessed in terms of upbringing and temperament, or who have by grace or serendipity been able to reach a safer haven… for us, the voices in our head whisper still.  Now they whisper:  “You are good enough, more than good enough, as you are.”

For those of you still steeped in the Christian lore, you may remember the pharisees and scribes of that time.  There are people like that today as well, but more disturbing, there is an inner pharisee lying in wait for any of us should we come so far as to become distinct from ‘tax collectors and “sinners”.’  You don’t even have to be actually religious, although it doesn’t hurt unfortunately.  Once you are no longer reminded by your conscience (or the police and creditors), once you can take a breather with the burning Sodom safely hidden beyond the hills, the voice is waiting for you.  To tell you that you are better than the rest, that you deserve to be treated with respect and enjoy privileges.  And above all, that there is no need to press onward.  You are good enough, more than good enough, the way you are.

In closely related news, I bought Sims 3 today.  Full report later. Perhaps.  If I manage to break out from the paradise that playing the new game is.

Flower fate

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Later yesterday, I found a single glass jar that had escaped the fate of its brethren.  I would have taken it to the city today to dump it with the others in the glass container, but instead I pulled the flowers up from the trash can and put them in the the glass jar with water.  That way they will die more slowly, and isn’t that what we all want?

Under the perspective of eternity – or even geology – we are all withering like flowers at the height of our strength.  But each day is another day.  For now, I feel fine.  Well, except for the mowing of the lawn.  “What does not kill us makes us stiff and sore.”

Flowers

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This was the sight that met me when I came home from work.  A flower bouquet on my doorstep. I immediately thought someone had misdelivered it, of course, and hopefully it was a close enough neighbor that I could just walk over with it.  But as I came close, I saw that it was my name and address on the label.

My next reaction was “wtf sick joke”.  Next “talk to the flower company and see if I can find some way to trace it and find out who this sicko is, then decide what to do  to make him regret.”

Before doing that, however, I looked at the package of flowers more closely. Something was wrong – I know almost nothing about flowers, but shouldn’t there be at least some white if they were celebrating someone’s death? I believe I have read so.  And then I saw that there was a different text on a card inside. And it had the sender.  Turned out it was from my fellow staff at my old workplace (where I was employed for nearly three decades until last Friday).

Relieved, I dumped the package unopened in the trash can.  I don’t have a vase.  I had one when I was young, because I won it in some high school competition where I came in as the third best in the country. Can’t remember what it was we competed in, but it was either maths or economics I think. Probably economics, since it was sponsored by a bank. Anyway, it is a fairly small country, and the vase was probably not very valuable. It was made of heavy glass, which is called “crystal” around here even though it is not crystalline but just glass with some lead mixed in, I believe.  I took it with me home to my birth family after high school, but I thought perhaps I had brought it with me again when I got the job a few months later.  I can’t find it here though, so either I don’t have it or it is buried along with some stuff I haven’t opened after I moved.  If it is here, hopefully I will eventually find it when I have thrown away enough stuff.  (I try to throw away something every day.)  But it will probably be months if not years until I can say for sure whether I have a vase or not.  The flowers won’t last that long.

It is kind of sad, you know. It is too late for the flowers, and it is too late for me.  I no longer take pleasure in the death of innocent plants, the way humans do.  But perhaps I should still pick them up from the trash can and place them someplace where I can see them slowly die, just like you can see me fading from this world through the glass between us. Until only a memory of lost beauty and needless suffering remains.  Memento mori. “All things made of parts will eventually come apart.”

Spring has ended

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Lilacs, or “syrin” as we call them in Norway (probably from the botanical name Syringa).

With June, it is officially summer.  In Norway at least, the official summer months are June, July and August. It is already this hot in June, and the remaining dandelions have turned to fluff.  Despite the heat, I took another long walk.  The second day of Pentecost is a day off in Norway, probably not so much for the sake of the Pentecostals as because it is a nice time of the year to have a day off.  Pentecost is not a big holiday in the post-Christian Scandinavia, and even to the older generation it looms not nearly as large as Easter and Christmas.  Consequently, I not only bought some food but even quietly mowed a bit of the lawn.  I see that as exercise rather than work, actually.  But I would probably have taken the walk even without the excuse of going to the shop nearly half an hour’s walk away.  It was a beautiful day, and wind made the heat just bearable. Of course, my body is still accustomed to the chilly spring.  Hopefully it will adapt before the true summer heat sets in.