Way back in 1973, science fiction author Michael Crichton (who had already had cinematic success with Robert Wise’s adaptation of his novel The Andromeda Strain) apparently finagled enough leeway in Hollywood to create a film that he would both write and direct — Westworld.

While not the greatest of films, Westworld had a number of fascinating concepts — many of which Crichton would carry over some twenty years later to his novel (and screenplay) Jurassic Park. Both were based on visions of far-flung amusement parks, places filled with a number of random elements which would end up subjugating their visitors. As Jurassic Park had dinosaurs that “found a way” to mate, mutate and rise against their surroundings, Westworld had android “hosts” that interacted with guests, with some of them becoming independent of their programmed scripts, much to the regret of their human victims.

Again, the film (while a huge fave of mine, ever since I saw it on TV on the CBS Late Night Movie as a kid) was only enough of a success to warrant a dismal sequel, Futureworld (which Crichton had nothing to do with), in 1976, it died a quiet death in the shadow of the Jurassic franchise (which is still ongoing, with the upcoming Jurassic World II). Leave it to Jonathan Nolan, best known for co-writing such amazing films as the Dark Knight series, The Prestige and the source of the film Memento with his brother, director Christopher Nolan, to find a new path in Crichton’s pre-Jurassic footsteps.

Along with co-author Lisa Joy, and fellow producer J. J. Abrams, Nolan has brought a much darker take on Crichton’s concepts. Given our greater understanding of such things as computer programs and Massively Multiplayer Online games (which Westworld is the ultimate iteration of — *SPOILER* in particular Ed Harris’ “Man in Black” could be seen as the ultimate “griefer”), Nolan runs with the given status of Crichton’s original and proceeds to warp and wend it to many new and fascinating ways. The echoes of Blade Runner and Moore and Eick’s brilliant take on Battlestar Galactica are informed here as well, with many new potential insights hinted at from the first episode. This new Westworld is gonna be a barnstormer (and I’m not only referring to what Harris does with Evan Rachel Wood), hopefully for seasons to come.

Gene Wilder (1933 -2016).


To some, he’s Willy Wonka (not that chirpy, bubble-headed nebbish Johnny Depp played in Charlie & The Chocolate Factory), the wary misanthrope who wielded sly surrealism and biting humor to his advantage in Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory. It’s entirely possible you’ve seen him in this role on the interwebs:


To others, he’s the Waco Kid, that gunfighter with impossibly fast hands and an equally impressive constitution for alcohol in Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles. But to me, he’ll always be Victor von Frankenstein (that’s FRAHN-ken-STEEN) in one of my all-time favorite movies, Young Frankenstein. From “Walk this way” (which actually inspired the classic Aerosmith hit), to “Puttin’ on the Ritz” (not to mention the dreaded name of Frau Blücher!), the movie never fails to entertain — a good part due to Wilder’s writing and performance in the lead role. He went on and starred in several films with his consummate co-star, the brilliant Richard Pryor. He was also accepted the Old Vic, studied acting under Uta Hagen and Lee Strasberg, and was a champion fencer. Later in life, he took up writing and released several novels, as well as promoting awareness to ovarian cancer, which took both his mother and wife Gilda Radner. Not bad for a kid from Milwaukee named Jerome Silberman.



A little late, yes, but I wanted to be sure and add my own drop in the quad bucket in tribute for probably the most influential (both inspirational and technical) first person shooter ever. And here’s looking to twenty more years (with id’s Quake Legends multiplayer game on the way, and a possible single player title from MachineGames — who on the day of Quake’s birthday this year offered up a custom episode for the original game) of gibs and glory to come.

The Dark Future of Modding.


I’m checking my email every couple of hours or so, after having put in a request to be in on Bethesda.net’s tenuous venture to bring Fallout 4 mods to my Playstation 4. Unlike the Xbox platform, which runs on Windows 10 and can use native files, the PS4 has its own file formats and must have mod files converted in order to be applied to any games its running. Bethesda started a closed beta to get help in setting up this process, and I’m sitting on my hands ready to pitch in. It’s not that I’ve been unhappy with the huge amount of DLC they’ve provided (and will be continuing to provide over the next couple of months) for the relatively cheap $30 fee of my “Season Pass”, but there’s something about the freedom of being able to modify a game to my own rather odd tastes that I’ve missed for a while. In fact, one of the major reasons I’ve ever been interested in games is because of this.

Way back in 1995, I was slipped a copy id Software’s The Ultimate DOOM, and my life changed. Not only was I presented with one of my all-time favorite game experiences, but, as I learned from that burgeoning source of information known as “the internet”, I was also actually able to create my own DOOM content as well. Mind. Blown. Right? Soon I was knee-deep not only in the dead, but also in a world of linedefs, sectors, vertices and monster spawns. The only thing more engrossing and challenging than testing the growing number of fan-made “pwads” was spending hour after hour crafting my own.

The following year brought Quake, and my little map-making mind was blown yet again. Here was a fully three-dimensional world of warped science fiction and quasi-Lovecraftian madness, and a quickly growing community of fellow mod enthusiasts at the ready to expand its borders in their own particular ways. I was quickly introduced to a number of amazingly talented and generous folks from all over the globe, some of whom I still manage to stay in contact with to this day. Many of them have been involved with many of the games you’ve played on PC and consoles, as game developers quickly realized that not only was modding good for extending the life of one’s product, but also provided a stable of viable game-creating talent. When Gabe Newell and Mike Harrington created Valve that same year (1996), they brought with them a number of Quake mappers and modders to realize what would eventually become the first Half-Life. I’m sure this is already well-known, but even the tremendously popular Valve game Team Fortress 2 is based on a Quake mod made popular online shortly after the game was first released.

The modding communities for games have since become vital components to several popular franchises, even going so far as to creating product on par with those of the developers. This of course brings us to the current time, and some unsettling situations that have threatened the long-standing relationship between developers and their communities. Last year Valve tentatively tried charging for mods via their Steam Workshop, which quickly proved to be a major debacle, and now Bethesda’s burgeoning Bethesda.net site is having growing pains, trying to make Fallout 4 PC mods available to console gamers without providing proper credit to their creators. The threat of monetizing fan-made content without supporting the effort (which Valve tried, and many suspect Bethesda is ultimately wanting to try) is dividing the game makers and their biggest fans. Instead of making these situations easier for both parties involved, more obstacles are being thrown in the way.

Whether mods will end up being monetized or not (I’m hoping for the latter, for reasons), their future use across the board obviously needs to ensure that the creators are not only properly credited for their efforts, but that those efforts are able withstand the constant patching of the game software and endless combinations with other mods available. This will require a great deal of patience and diligence by both sides, not to mention from the users of said modifications. As it stands currently, the best vendors for mods are those outside the realm of developers, such as the marvelous folks at the Nexusmods, who provide a solid support team, forums and chatrooms that provide a free flowing interaction between the users and creators of mods for their supported games. Both Valve and Bethesda could learn a great deal from them, as they have gone out of their way to make modding a painless process, by not only keeping users up to date with new versions of mods, but even providing a installer which takes the ever-present question of “Where Does This Thing Go?” out of the equation. Until all of these bases have been covered, the future use of mods — especially those currently being applied to console versions — will be held in contention.

That reminds me — I need to check my email again…


My Dark Tower Rip-Off Game.


Ahh, Summertime. That time of the year when the midday air turns to the consistency of peanut butter due to the oppressive humidity, and going outside around sundown means frantically performing the Rite of Citronella to keep the insect world at bay. You actually look forward to it raining all day. Can this actually be my favorite time of year when I was a kid? Have I truly become the old man in the shorts and black socks pronouncing dread tidings for any who get on my lawn? Nah — I ain’t that bad, yet. Besides, I’m so allergic to most of the stuff growing in my yard this time of year I stick to the sidewalks and driveway, and make haste.

Needless to say, I have become an inside dog over the years, luxuriating in the air conditioning, and making a beeline to the inside of a waiting car for more of it if an excursion is demanded of me. And with a week free of scheduled work-days coming up, I plan on even avoiding that situation, if possible. With my sister and her two teenage boys being free the same week, my mind is drawn to the inevitable Family Game Time, those occasions highly similar to what the late, great Frank Zappa referred to as “enforced recreation”.

Not that I dislike the tabletop sessions in our massive kitchen; in fact I tend to look forward to them. The two boys, both of them now teen-aged, and for the most part enmeshed in their own prevalent social lives, are a joy to sit in on, their gleeful debasing of each other always making for solid entertainment. And their mother’s potential for competition in any venue is unparalleled, regardless of how much she tries to play it down.

You name it, we’ve played it. Clue, Monopoly, Sorry, Risk, Trivial Pursuit (even the Harry Potter version, which the boys creamed the old folks on), and card games like Phase 10 and Munchkin (both perennial favorites, especially Munchkin, which we’d stock with several differing packs and play up to level 50, doubling the value of monsters after level 25), even some basic D&D with the boys (I have yet to get my sister in on an adventure, hope to soon with the sandbox stuff I’ve been working on), when they could hack and slash orcs and hobgoblins to their heart’s content. I even worked up a homemade version of the old Dungeon! board game that we played relentlessly one year. In fact, it was its success that had me wondering if I could craft some other similar game that could satisfy all of our gaming needs.

I remembered having the old  TSR minigame Vampyre back in the day, probably found at the local five-and-dime place, which often carried an odd assortment of D&D products and related works (I vividly remember getting the old pasteboard “wooden” box with the original little books inside — I believe I’ve already mentioned this, and how I’d give my eye-teeth for it now). Vampyre was a quick little game based on Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with dice, paper markers and a dual sided map (one a hex map of “Transylvania”, the other of the Count’s residence). The players must hunt the mountainous countryside to destroy Dracula’s coffins (and avoid becoming vampiric or werewolf servants to the Prince of Darkness), then pursue the fiend himself to his lair. Unfortunately, I no longer own the game (or can find little to no semblance of its rules online), so it was pretty much sorted to the Mebbe Laters Dept. for the time being.

But soon another old memory pervaded the swirling, lattice-worked mist that is my consciousness. I remembered this marvel from way back in 1981:

My stepsister got the game that year for Christmas, and we played it voraciously throughout the holiday (and just about any time I could convince her to bring it over), thrilling to mini-campaigns of swords and sorcery. To be honest, I have yet to ask her if she still has it; if she does we’ll have to save that too for another blog. But what I did find online were the rules for the game, most of which I had forgotten over the thirty-five-some-odd years since I had played it. But for now, it didn’t matter. I had enough to work with to fashion my own Dark Tower scenario, using dice rolls to simulate the actions of the original game’s “electronic computer”.

After slapping together some dice table approximates around the bare bones of the original rules (which I supplanted with a good bit of dressing from my sandbox world), it was time for a playtest.

After four sessions of the game, many of the rules were tweaked (tables were adapted to make the magic keys more available, and getting lost and plagued less so), but all in all it was a massive hit. The best part was watching the lead players sweating bullets attempting the “Riddle of the Keys” to enter the tower (by rolling a 1-3 three successive times with a six-sided die) while the stragglers slowly caught up with them — it always made for a thrilling climax.

If you would like to try out the game for yourself, you can download this copy of the rules (in Microsoft .wps format), which includes the map piece I duplicated for the playtest sessions, here. Please feel free to change in any way you see fit — I would really be interested in your comments if you do.