1. Star Wars: Force Unleashed
2. Rise of the Argonauts
3. Mortal Kombat v DC Universe
4. Lips
5. Guitar Hero IV: World Tour
6. Spore
Now to print it out and stick it on the fridge before Christmas :D
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Ode to My 360
On the 7th of April, 2007 at 7:01 p.m, I bought my Xbox 360.
This was a momentous occasion for me as it was basically the most money I had ever ever spent on anything.
(The financial magnitude of this was squished rather dramatically when I purchased my first car four months later.)
I tend to wax lyrical about my 360, which I'm sure must get very, very annoying to my long-suffering peers, but oh, the love I have for that little piece of plastic hardware. Warm summer nights at 12 a.m playing Assassins Creed. Late-night missions in Mass Effect with giant scorpion alien things that shoot acid. Clutching the controller to my chest and going, "Awwwww...." my Commander Shepard finally declared her love for Kaidan Alenko (followed by a very visual consummation of that love which certainly earned the MA15+ rating). Weekends with my Scene It! controllers in fierce competition with my cousins. Sweating in the summer heat while jumping around maniacally on a Dance Dance Revolution mat. Hitting brightly coloured pinatas over the head with a shovel with Kris, then feeling immediately guilty at their helplessness.
And the funny thing is, what spurred my decision to buy a next-gen console was that fact that The Force Unleashed had been announced- on every platform but PC.
So if the mountain won't come to Mohammed, Mohammed will...buy the mountain.
And IN A CRUEL TWIST OF IRONY, when The Force Unleashed comes out, what does my XBox do?
IT DIES.
AAAARGGGGGH.
I rang Microsoft today. Microsoft apparently seem to enjoy employing Indian consultants with really really bad American accents.
Nevertheless, 'Nancy' was happy to process my repair, although my heart did sink when she said, "I'm just going to take you through some troubleshooting..."
She told me to turn the console on, wait ten seconds, and turn it off. I politely explained that I had done three test runs the night before doing exactly that, had checked both the status of the power supply and the AV cables, removed the hard drive and retested it, and totally confirmed that it had RROD'ed.
She said, "Oh."
Then she said, "How did you know how to do all that? Did you visit the website?"
I mentioned that I sell 360s at work. What I didn't tell her was that I'd spent part of my afternoon clutching my Xbox to my chest, rocking it back and forth telling it everything would be fine. I probably shouldn't have done this while I had a guest in the house- Sarah looked positively fearful- but she's used to my madness.
So I'm sending my little one to Chullora. Hopefully they can fix the fault, although this is what happens when you designate manufacturing to three shoddy Chinese factories and use crappy heatsinks. Hopefully I'll get it back just in time for after-exams.
To quote Ned Flanders..."God speed, little doodle."
This was a momentous occasion for me as it was basically the most money I had ever ever spent on anything.
(The financial magnitude of this was squished rather dramatically when I purchased my first car four months later.)
I tend to wax lyrical about my 360, which I'm sure must get very, very annoying to my long-suffering peers, but oh, the love I have for that little piece of plastic hardware. Warm summer nights at 12 a.m playing Assassins Creed. Late-night missions in Mass Effect with giant scorpion alien things that shoot acid. Clutching the controller to my chest and going, "Awwwww...." my Commander Shepard finally declared her love for Kaidan Alenko (followed by a very visual consummation of that love which certainly earned the MA15+ rating). Weekends with my Scene It! controllers in fierce competition with my cousins. Sweating in the summer heat while jumping around maniacally on a Dance Dance Revolution mat. Hitting brightly coloured pinatas over the head with a shovel with Kris, then feeling immediately guilty at their helplessness.
And the funny thing is, what spurred my decision to buy a next-gen console was that fact that The Force Unleashed had been announced- on every platform but PC.
So if the mountain won't come to Mohammed, Mohammed will...buy the mountain.
And IN A CRUEL TWIST OF IRONY, when The Force Unleashed comes out, what does my XBox do?
IT DIES.
AAAARGGGGGH.
I rang Microsoft today. Microsoft apparently seem to enjoy employing Indian consultants with really really bad American accents.
Nevertheless, 'Nancy' was happy to process my repair, although my heart did sink when she said, "I'm just going to take you through some troubleshooting..."
She told me to turn the console on, wait ten seconds, and turn it off. I politely explained that I had done three test runs the night before doing exactly that, had checked both the status of the power supply and the AV cables, removed the hard drive and retested it, and totally confirmed that it had RROD'ed.
She said, "Oh."
Then she said, "How did you know how to do all that? Did you visit the website?"
I mentioned that I sell 360s at work. What I didn't tell her was that I'd spent part of my afternoon clutching my Xbox to my chest, rocking it back and forth telling it everything would be fine. I probably shouldn't have done this while I had a guest in the house- Sarah looked positively fearful- but she's used to my madness.
So I'm sending my little one to Chullora. Hopefully they can fix the fault, although this is what happens when you designate manufacturing to three shoddy Chinese factories and use crappy heatsinks. Hopefully I'll get it back just in time for after-exams.
To quote Ned Flanders..."God speed, little doodle."
Monday, August 18, 2008
Things You Don't Expect To Hear When Talking About Networks...
Customer: I'm looking to get an ethernet cable, maybe 20 metres long.
Me: Sorry, we've only got up to 15.
Customer: That's okay, I can join two of them together with one of those- what do you call those little things?
Me: An RJ45 coupler?
Customer: Yeah, that's it- hmm, that sounds really kinky doesn't it? 'Coupler' sounds like it's some kind of weird sex toy.
Me: Yeah, we don't really sell sex toys in the store...
In future, remind me to call those things 'joiners' and not 'couplers'...
Me: Sorry, we've only got up to 15.
Customer: That's okay, I can join two of them together with one of those- what do you call those little things?
Me: An RJ45 coupler?
Customer: Yeah, that's it- hmm, that sounds really kinky doesn't it? 'Coupler' sounds like it's some kind of weird sex toy.
Me: Yeah, we don't really sell sex toys in the store...
In future, remind me to call those things 'joiners' and not 'couplers'...
Sunday, August 3, 2008
The Toner is IN the printer...?
Today, I had another one of those terrific phone conversations where people treat me as technical support.
News flash: I am not.
Whenever I buy something, I don't generally ring up the place I bought it from and make them walk me through the process of what is clearly laid out in the instruction manual. Surely, you would actually ring the manufacturer who pays people to act as specialised tech support, rather than a store that has only four staff working per day? It's like buying bedsheets, then ringing up Target asking for washing instructions.
Seems harsh? Quite a few of the queries I get could be solved with a simple search in Google or a look at the troubleshooting manual. I don't mind it when customers come in with mild troubleshooting questions, or if they bring in their instruction manuals wanting to know the best way to connect their equipment. But making me act as your tech support on the phone? No. I have better things to do with my $13/hr. Like spray isopropyl on everything.
This is what transpired today:
"Hi. We purchased a printer from your store this morning."
"Oh, okay. And?"
"We can't get it to work."
"What seems to be the problem?"
"It's just not printing."
"Okay. Have you inserted the toner?"
"The what?"
"The toner. That big black thing that came in the packaging."
"What's a toner?"
Five minutes later...
"Look at the top of the box where it says CONTENTS. THERE SHOULD BE A PICTURE OF THE TONER."
"I don't see it."
"Okay....there's a picture of the printer. And a picture of the manual. And two cables. And next to it there's this great ugly thing that is a picture of the toner cartridge."
Five minutes later...
"Can you open the lid for me?"
"How do I do that?"
"Just...open the top. Pretend the laser printer is a top-loading washing machine. Just open the top."
"I can't see it."
"There's a NOTCH FOR YOUR FINGER TO LIFT UP THE LID ON THE LEFT HAND SIDE."
Five minutes later...
"I can't get the lid shut."
"Have you snapped the toner in place?"
"Which bit is the toner?"
AAAARGH.
Five minutes later...
"Please stop thinking of this printer as an inkjet printer. THE TONER IS LIKE ONE FOOT LONG. IT IS NOT A LITTLE CARTRIDGE. BIG. BLACK. PLASTIC. THING."
Two minutes later...
"Look, I really cannot act as technical support for 20 minutes on the phone- I have customers to serve and HP have a support line that should be open tomorrow."
"But I need to print today."
"Well, if you give me your number I can call you back in 15 minutes when the store isn't quite so busy."
"But I'm going out in the afternoon. I won't be home."
Oh, gee. Sorry I can't fit into your schedule, ma'am.
Two minutes later, I had managed to extract myself from the gruelling conversation, during which I tried to stab myself with a blue biro in front of my colleague.
After I'd put the phone down, I turned to face the next customer who had caught the last five minutes of my barely repressed laser toner rage.
The customer looked at me, and smiled a little sheepishly before he said:
"Um, I know this is the last thing you want to hear...but I need help with a printer."
News flash: I am not.
Whenever I buy something, I don't generally ring up the place I bought it from and make them walk me through the process of what is clearly laid out in the instruction manual. Surely, you would actually ring the manufacturer who pays people to act as specialised tech support, rather than a store that has only four staff working per day? It's like buying bedsheets, then ringing up Target asking for washing instructions.
Seems harsh? Quite a few of the queries I get could be solved with a simple search in Google or a look at the troubleshooting manual. I don't mind it when customers come in with mild troubleshooting questions, or if they bring in their instruction manuals wanting to know the best way to connect their equipment. But making me act as your tech support on the phone? No. I have better things to do with my $13/hr. Like spray isopropyl on everything.
This is what transpired today:
"Hi. We purchased a printer from your store this morning."
"Oh, okay. And?"
"We can't get it to work."
"What seems to be the problem?"
"It's just not printing."
"Okay. Have you inserted the toner?"
"The what?"
"The toner. That big black thing that came in the packaging."
"What's a toner?"
Five minutes later...
"Look at the top of the box where it says CONTENTS. THERE SHOULD BE A PICTURE OF THE TONER."
"I don't see it."
"Okay....there's a picture of the printer. And a picture of the manual. And two cables. And next to it there's this great ugly thing that is a picture of the toner cartridge."
Five minutes later...
"Can you open the lid for me?"
"How do I do that?"
"Just...open the top. Pretend the laser printer is a top-loading washing machine. Just open the top."
"I can't see it."
"There's a NOTCH FOR YOUR FINGER TO LIFT UP THE LID ON THE LEFT HAND SIDE."
Five minutes later...
"I can't get the lid shut."
"Have you snapped the toner in place?"
"Which bit is the toner?"
AAAARGH.
Five minutes later...
"Please stop thinking of this printer as an inkjet printer. THE TONER IS LIKE ONE FOOT LONG. IT IS NOT A LITTLE CARTRIDGE. BIG. BLACK. PLASTIC. THING."
Two minutes later...
"Look, I really cannot act as technical support for 20 minutes on the phone- I have customers to serve and HP have a support line that should be open tomorrow."
"But I need to print today."
"Well, if you give me your number I can call you back in 15 minutes when the store isn't quite so busy."
"But I'm going out in the afternoon. I won't be home."
Oh, gee. Sorry I can't fit into your schedule, ma'am.
Two minutes later, I had managed to extract myself from the gruelling conversation, during which I tried to stab myself with a blue biro in front of my colleague.
After I'd put the phone down, I turned to face the next customer who had caught the last five minutes of my barely repressed laser toner rage.
The customer looked at me, and smiled a little sheepishly before he said:
"Um, I know this is the last thing you want to hear...but I need help with a printer."
Friday, August 1, 2008
Cables, Trade-Ins, and Other Matters...
Today, I went searching for a VGA cable.
I thought that it would be a simple enough task.
But for some odd reason, NO ONE STOCKS THEM.
Well, I'll clarify this a bit- what I was after was a 15 pin male to female VGA extension cable, not your normal male-male (insert immature giggle here) cable. I tried FIVE stores. FIVE. Including my university computer shop, which seems to have whored itself out to Apple and now seems to be solely worshiping the shrine of Steve Jobs.
I told the guy what I was after, and he goes, "Well...we have cables to connect the Macs."
("Hi, I'm a Mac!" "And I'm a PC!" Do not distract me with your Mac words, peasant!)
And then he suggested the company for which I work.
But no, my store doesn't have male-female VGA cables. We also charge $40 for normal cables, which is just plain stupid.
Anyway...I toddled off to the industrial zone near my university, which has quite a few little computer shops nestled into it. Despite the fact that they are really quite tiny little shops, the I.T guys there were lovely. And...well, they could speak English. It was nice to have a conversation that didn't run along the lines of:
"Excuse me, do you have VGA cables?"
"VGA?"
"Yes, VGA. 15 pin male to female."
"Ahhh....we no have VGA cable. All sold out."
*Awkward pause*
"Um...do you usually stock them?"
"No more. Run out."
"Well, would you be able to order them in?"
*Uncomprehending blinking ensues*
"Never mind."
Finally, I reached the very end of the industrial area and struck gold. And the cables were like $5 each. Mentally, I uttered a joyful "WOOT!" as I handed my $10 over, while the jolly old man at the counter told me that the company I work for was basically 'daylight robbery!'.
Daylight robbery or not, my humble little electronics job has paid my way through law school :)
The cables were actually for a very good friend of mine, Kryssy. In fact, I dedicate this post to her, as she's just bloody awesome. I've shrieked through Halo on her old black brick, dragged her through JB jumping up and down at a Force Unleashed mock-up, rung her in the middle of the exam period wanting her advice whilst standing at an EB clearance table, and tottered around Chadstone with her on a PS3-buying expedition, dragging a limited-edition lead safe that came with GTAIV. (That was a brilliant expedition. She got her PS3, I got knee-length black leather boots. Happiness.)
Anyway...half an hour after I got home, she came over so we could go to my local GameTraders to trade in her all her old stuff. And there was a LOT. Like three bags full. The first was filled to the brim- and imagine a large retail bag FILLED WITH PLAYSTATION TWO GAMES- the second was filled with PS1 stuff, and the third had a Xbox Console plus games and controllers.
Suffice to say, the first bag actually broke when I'd only taken ten steps away from the car, but we managed to stumble into Game Traders- I heaved up the first bag on the counter with a large THUMP and said, "We'd like to trade."
The woman at GameTraders looked distinctly unimpressed.
We let her sort all that out while I snickered through the old Mega Drive collection and viewed their SNES collection with sweet nostalgia. Kryssy got a pretty good deal- she got Call of Duty 4 and Kane and Lynch for the PS3 and that only took up like half of her trade-in credit. Pretty sweet.
We had a most excellent day- and to Kryssy, I say thank you. For years of friendship and gaming and ranting...I have so many happy (and highly amusing) memories. Sitting on your living room floor and pouring through X-Men comics. Playing Mortal Kombat on your PS2 and yelling, "MY HAT KILLS PEOPLE!". Leaving the cinema after Iron Man two minutes before they played Samuel L. Jackson's cameo, saying to you, "Boy, I wish they'd showed Nick Fury from S.H.I.E.L.D." (Am still slapping myself over that one.)
And yeah, being defeated by a flight of stairs in Halo and then screaming and firing blindly when a bunch of beaky aliens jumped out at me behind a crate.
I'll learn how to shoot straight one of these days...
I thought that it would be a simple enough task.
But for some odd reason, NO ONE STOCKS THEM.
Well, I'll clarify this a bit- what I was after was a 15 pin male to female VGA extension cable, not your normal male-male (insert immature giggle here) cable. I tried FIVE stores. FIVE. Including my university computer shop, which seems to have whored itself out to Apple and now seems to be solely worshiping the shrine of Steve Jobs.
I told the guy what I was after, and he goes, "Well...we have cables to connect the Macs."
("Hi, I'm a Mac!" "And I'm a PC!" Do not distract me with your Mac words, peasant!)
And then he suggested the company for which I work.
But no, my store doesn't have male-female VGA cables. We also charge $40 for normal cables, which is just plain stupid.
Anyway...I toddled off to the industrial zone near my university, which has quite a few little computer shops nestled into it. Despite the fact that they are really quite tiny little shops, the I.T guys there were lovely. And...well, they could speak English. It was nice to have a conversation that didn't run along the lines of:
"Excuse me, do you have VGA cables?"
"VGA?"
"Yes, VGA. 15 pin male to female."
"Ahhh....we no have VGA cable. All sold out."
*Awkward pause*
"Um...do you usually stock them?"
"No more. Run out."
"Well, would you be able to order them in?"
*Uncomprehending blinking ensues*
"Never mind."
Finally, I reached the very end of the industrial area and struck gold. And the cables were like $5 each. Mentally, I uttered a joyful "WOOT!" as I handed my $10 over, while the jolly old man at the counter told me that the company I work for was basically 'daylight robbery!'.
Daylight robbery or not, my humble little electronics job has paid my way through law school :)
The cables were actually for a very good friend of mine, Kryssy. In fact, I dedicate this post to her, as she's just bloody awesome. I've shrieked through Halo on her old black brick, dragged her through JB jumping up and down at a Force Unleashed mock-up, rung her in the middle of the exam period wanting her advice whilst standing at an EB clearance table, and tottered around Chadstone with her on a PS3-buying expedition, dragging a limited-edition lead safe that came with GTAIV. (That was a brilliant expedition. She got her PS3, I got knee-length black leather boots. Happiness.)
Anyway...half an hour after I got home, she came over so we could go to my local GameTraders to trade in her all her old stuff. And there was a LOT. Like three bags full. The first was filled to the brim- and imagine a large retail bag FILLED WITH PLAYSTATION TWO GAMES- the second was filled with PS1 stuff, and the third had a Xbox Console plus games and controllers.
Suffice to say, the first bag actually broke when I'd only taken ten steps away from the car, but we managed to stumble into Game Traders- I heaved up the first bag on the counter with a large THUMP and said, "We'd like to trade."
The woman at GameTraders looked distinctly unimpressed.
We let her sort all that out while I snickered through the old Mega Drive collection and viewed their SNES collection with sweet nostalgia. Kryssy got a pretty good deal- she got Call of Duty 4 and Kane and Lynch for the PS3 and that only took up like half of her trade-in credit. Pretty sweet.
We had a most excellent day- and to Kryssy, I say thank you. For years of friendship and gaming and ranting...I have so many happy (and highly amusing) memories. Sitting on your living room floor and pouring through X-Men comics. Playing Mortal Kombat on your PS2 and yelling, "MY HAT KILLS PEOPLE!". Leaving the cinema after Iron Man two minutes before they played Samuel L. Jackson's cameo, saying to you, "Boy, I wish they'd showed Nick Fury from S.H.I.E.L.D." (Am still slapping myself over that one.)
And yeah, being defeated by a flight of stairs in Halo and then screaming and firing blindly when a bunch of beaky aliens jumped out at me behind a crate.
I'll learn how to shoot straight one of these days...
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Network of Hate!
I hate networks.
I hate routers.
I hate wireless receivers.
I hate 15 metre ethernet cables.
I hate filters.
I hate them all.
This hatred is not unfounded. It does not simply stem from the fact that I spend a goodly amount of my time at work patiently explaining the function of a router and what a wireless network is. (Took me 20 minutes to explain the difference between 802.11g and 802.11N the other day, although I only have a very vague conceptual idea of the latter...although if Mariah Carey can incorporate it into her Touch My Body video clip it can't be that hard, right?!)
Mostly, the hatred stems from a long history of drop-outs with the stupid piece of plastic crap that I call a D-Link router and the equally crap piece of plastic that I call a USB receiver (which has recently failed. Thus, the 15 metres of ethernet cable trailing all over my house.)
Plus the hours of fixing and twiddling and pinging and ooooooh how I hate that HP Pavilion downstairs...I can't explain why, but whenever something (else) goes wrong with it I fly into a homicidal rage. Which isn't really fair on my father, who generally has to put up with (a) his computer failing and (b) his daughter screaming at an inanimate object and cursing HP in non-too-polite terms.
Also, as I keep pointedly reminding my dad, I AM NOT A COMPUTER TECHNICIAN.
In fact, I suck. Every time something goes wrong I have to go through a process of trial and error based on the most likely issues with it...and at each point of failure my rage grows and grows until the urge to smash the computer is almost overwhelming.
On the upside, I have managed to fix it.
Tonight it was some kind of firewall problem.
Add that to the list:
I also hate firewalls.
That's all my venting today. Carry on surfing on your respective networks...
I hate routers.
I hate wireless receivers.
I hate 15 metre ethernet cables.
I hate filters.
I hate them all.
This hatred is not unfounded. It does not simply stem from the fact that I spend a goodly amount of my time at work patiently explaining the function of a router and what a wireless network is. (Took me 20 minutes to explain the difference between 802.11g and 802.11N the other day, although I only have a very vague conceptual idea of the latter...although if Mariah Carey can incorporate it into her Touch My Body video clip it can't be that hard, right?!)
Mostly, the hatred stems from a long history of drop-outs with the stupid piece of plastic crap that I call a D-Link router and the equally crap piece of plastic that I call a USB receiver (which has recently failed. Thus, the 15 metres of ethernet cable trailing all over my house.)
Plus the hours of fixing and twiddling and pinging and ooooooh how I hate that HP Pavilion downstairs...I can't explain why, but whenever something (else) goes wrong with it I fly into a homicidal rage. Which isn't really fair on my father, who generally has to put up with (a) his computer failing and (b) his daughter screaming at an inanimate object and cursing HP in non-too-polite terms.
Also, as I keep pointedly reminding my dad, I AM NOT A COMPUTER TECHNICIAN.
In fact, I suck. Every time something goes wrong I have to go through a process of trial and error based on the most likely issues with it...and at each point of failure my rage grows and grows until the urge to smash the computer is almost overwhelming.
On the upside, I have managed to fix it.
Tonight it was some kind of firewall problem.
Add that to the list:
I also hate firewalls.
That's all my venting today. Carry on surfing on your respective networks...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The Trouble With FPS
You may have heard me whine a lot on this blog about how much I suck at FPS.
Now, here is further proof!
I had a spare hour today to start Rainbow Six Vegas on my 360. I know it's a shooter so I probably shouldn't have bought it, but it was only $25 and hey, you blow up shit in a casino. Who hasn't ever wanted to leap onto the blackjack tables at Crown with an AK-47?
Anyway...here I was, happily trotting into a Mexican alleyway with my very large gun, when I reach a doorway. It happens to be one of the doorways that I can't open, since at this point in the tutorial I have not learnt the dubious joys of Snake Cam- but thinking this is Gears of War, I try to smash the door down with one meaty fist.
Except this does nothing. This is not Gears of War.
So I press the pretty little circle button on my controller.
A merry tinkling sound ensues as a teeny little round grenade thing drops at my feet.
Daphne has two seconds to go, "Oh...shit," before the grenade explodes in spectacular fashion at my feet and the whole world goes red.
Game over.
Whoops.
Now, here is further proof!
I had a spare hour today to start Rainbow Six Vegas on my 360. I know it's a shooter so I probably shouldn't have bought it, but it was only $25 and hey, you blow up shit in a casino. Who hasn't ever wanted to leap onto the blackjack tables at Crown with an AK-47?
Anyway...here I was, happily trotting into a Mexican alleyway with my very large gun, when I reach a doorway. It happens to be one of the doorways that I can't open, since at this point in the tutorial I have not learnt the dubious joys of Snake Cam- but thinking this is Gears of War, I try to smash the door down with one meaty fist.
Except this does nothing. This is not Gears of War.
So I press the pretty little circle button on my controller.
A merry tinkling sound ensues as a teeny little round grenade thing drops at my feet.
Daphne has two seconds to go, "Oh...shit," before the grenade explodes in spectacular fashion at my feet and the whole world goes red.
Game over.
Whoops.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
