The Clan of the Cave Bague

I was speaking to Mr Daniels today and waxing lyrical, as is my wont, about the lovely messaging system in objective C. He commented that something I said was a really nice metaphor so I thought I’d post it here.

Objective C, as you might know, uses square braces (these []) as part of its syntax for sending messages. For example:

[myObject init];

Well, it occurred to me that those square brackets make the object and the message look like they’re in a wee box – so when you ask an object for an answer, the question just kinda falls out of the box. Like this:

theAnswer = [myObject whatsYourFavouriteColor];

That’s all it was – but he’s right enough – it helps to make things easy. You drop the question into the box beside the object and the answer falls out the other end

Look up there! At the top! Where the page links are! See that one with ‘PressGang’? Well, that’s a new page that is. I’m currently adding Cocoa/Objective-C to my ever-lengthening list of programming languages and, as it usual for me, I’m writing something useful while learning it. It seems to make it all easier.

PressGang will (eventually) be an Army List Creator for tabletop wargames of the Warhammer Fantasy / 40K / Lord of the Rings ilk, although I’m hoping to keep it modular enough to support arbitrary wargames via a plugin system. 

Anyway, more information (and a link to an announce mailing list) can be found on the page at the top and development posts will be listed in the shiny new ‘Mac Development’ category.

About as historically accurate as Lord of the Rings, but who cares! Rather than going for the continuous melancholic inevitability approach of the 2004 remake, this John Wayne outing goes all guns blazing for the ‘heroic last stand’ approach. Yeah, ok, so everyone dies, but there’s the usual rousing speeches and soapboxing that hollywood movies from the sixties do so well. Honourable mentions also go to the wonderful friction and palpable dislike between Travis and Bowie.

ACENESS. 12/10.

You really can’t beat a good 50s/60s “Swords and Sandals” epic, can you? Everything’s brightly coloured, the enemies are evil beyond belief, the heroes are manly beardy and the girlies swoon and flutter like swoony-fluttery things! And then there’s the awesome Harryhausen creations – in Jason we have a giant bronze statue, harpies, a hydra, and a whole squad of fighting skellingtons. Just awesome.

Who cares if it makes sense? Who cares if Jason’s gang actually are a bunch of god-sanctioned thieves. It’s ACE!

8/10

M’okay, overbearing workaholic mum takes extremely traumatised daughter and her equally traumatised horse to see Robert Redford. Redford is, apparently, a horse whisperer and is able to settle and calm the most disturbed of beasts. Presumably, it’s the horse he’s to look after, and not the daughter.

Anyway, horse is healed, daughter is healed, workaholic mum is healed – romance ensues. Except she is, of course, already married. Confusion ensues. Then they all, quite inexplicably, go home.

6/10.

Today we decided to get bang up to date (for us) and went to see something which was in use only a few hundred years ago. This was actually the first time I’ve been inside Linlithgow Palace and I was kind of amazed at the sheer size of the place. To the extent that I got lost. A lot.

It was a bit strange, standing in the room where Mary, Queen of Scots was born, on the same lands where Robert the Bruce met with Edward Longshanks, and where the fate of a certain Mr Wallace was discussed.

Pictures, as ever in the gallery. They’re not great, though, due to my rubbish camera’s insistence on using the flash all the time.

Just back from a short trip to Cairnpapple. It’s a neolithic burial ground tucked away in the hills around Bathgate. Originally, it was a celtic place of worship (a woodhenge – a broad open expanse with a circle of wooden posts surrounded by a ditch and a mound, open to the sky) some five thousand years ago. Four thousand years ago, the first of a series of burials took place (a high priestess) and a cairn was erected over the first two. 

It’s a Scottish Heritage site, and if you’re one of the clever people who pays a paltry six quid a month for membership, you can go and see it for free. Set on a high hill with views that go on forever, it’s a fantastic place to go and chill, even if you’re not of a druidic persuasion. There are some pictures in the gallery if you want a nose, but if you get the chance, you need to visit – even if only to see what your ancestors were doing five millennia ago.

So, as it happens, The Missing Sync isn’t as good as it purports to be. The functionality is great – it does a lot of fab stuff – it just, well, crashes. A lot. Like ALL THE TIME. Not only that, but it makes my shiny mac unstable and that’s something I Will Not Have ™.

So, I’ve flipped over to SyncMate which, while the free version is fairly limited, does what I need and doesn’t asplode if I look at it funny.

Also – apropos of nothing – I have bumblebees in my garden! We have a little random patch of orangey-yellowy flowers which were happily growing in a little greenhouse. Unfortunately, the greenhouse was pretty much wiped out after a particularly nasty storm, but the little flowers fled to freedom. So we just left them where they fell and they’ve now sprouted into a big colourful mongsplat of plant-life, complete with climby tendril things. And they attract bees! Which is ACE.

Been listening to a (n awesome) podcast for the past few mornings. It’s an ongoing series as part of the Wizards of the Coast D & D podcast that’s a live session of the guys from Penny Arcade playing 4th Edition D & D. Some of them, believe it or not, are even playing it for the first time! And they call themselves geeks!

Anyway, the whole thing is an (entertaining) promotional recording for the new ruleset, and I have to say (as a long-time v2, v3. v3.5 player) that there are a few odd things in the new rules. For example, all classes now get ‘Healing Surges’ which allow them to, well, heal themselves for a quarter of their hit points several times a day, even during combat. That pretty much takes the planning and challenge away there and then. Another thing that stuck in my mind was the wizard class – infinite magic missile casts at level 1? Ok, so the spell has been nerfed – it doesn’t do nearly the damage it did in 3.5, but infinite casts? 

I can see what WotC are trying to do, here, they’re attempting to aim D & D at the videogame crowd (which is kinda ironic, really, as D & D was originally the inspiration for a lot of videogames), but I think they’re taking it a bit far. The role-playing aspects of the game are largely lost – when will the Cleric get the dilemma of “Do I use my last heal on our fighter or my best friend?”. When does the mage think “I have one cast of magic missiles left – do I do it now to save a party member’s life, or do I keep it to myself for self defence?”

I daresay this is nothing more than the same old story – it’s change and therefore the crusty old nerds like me must make a noise, but I have to say I don’t think I’ll be playing it – it just isn’t the game I want to play. It’s warcraft without a computer – all combat, no roleplaying, no moral dilemmas.

Then there’s the whole ‘play it over the net’ virtual table top. Come on, guys, it’s NOT a computer game – it’s a social game about teamwork, problem solving, roleplaying and, yes, combat. It’s NOT WoW.

Of course, it’s all academic. There’s no *need* to ‘upgrade’ to 4th Ed. D & D being what it is, there are plenty of pre-written 3.5 adventures out there, and god knows how many worlds you can set your own adventures in. And if you run out of them, well, you just write your own.

It’s not all negative, though – if 4th Ed. brings in a new audience to D & D then that’s fab (<geek>even if it’s not proper D & D</geek>), and I’m sure they’ll have a great fun discovering this new/old universe. I do hope, though, that playing the (should I say ‘dumbed down’? Probably not) new version will lead them to try some of the older, more traditional versions.

“Go on,” she laughed, her eyes wide and sparkling, “show me again!”

I gave a pretend sigh of long-suffering and dug the ten pence piece from my pocket again. It danced over the back of my hand, flickering in between my fingers like a ghost, before flipping up in the air, catching the light streaming through the coffee shop window in a blaze of silver, and vanishing, only to re-appear – this time – from between the pages of the battered paperback sitting beside my new acquaintance’s cappuccino.

She clapped her hands and let out a squeal of delight.

“That’s fantastic! However do you do it?”

I shrugged and smiled. “A lot of practice, a lot of spare time, and a lot of lost pennies,” I answered. “Look.”

I popped the coin onto the back of my hand and trapped it between two fingers. I wobbled it left and then right.

“It’s not really dancing, it’s just a kind of controlled falling.”

“I know how it feels,” she said.

I smiled and navigated the coin to and fro, slowly, considering the light patterns it cast on the back of my hand.

“It’s something I do,” I said, “something I’ve always done. Fidgeting with a purpose. I suppose it helps me relax.”

“Let me try,” she said.

I held the coin out to her. Our fingertips touched as she took it. A brief spark of connectivity – the passing of something between us. A blush and a smile. Dropped eyes.

“Ok, just balance it there, between your fingers. Now let it drop slowly to the left.” The coin hit the tabletop with a clatter.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for that type of fidgeting. Requires too much effort.” She thought for a moment. “I play with my phone,” she said, “for my fidget-fix. I can’t really work it, but I like messing around with it anyway.”

“I don’t have one. Can’t abide the things – I had one at my last job, but it seemed like I had no privacy any more. No escape.”

“What do you do?”

“As little as possible,” I laughed. She smiled and waited. “Well, I fix things mostly. Electronics. How about you?”

“Public Relations,” she said. “I convince people that the glass is always half full. Might have been more helpful to go down your route though – I have problems changing a plug.”

“Everyone has their gift,” I said, “I’m not much good with people.”

“Oh, I don’t know – you could dazzle them with your dancing coin trick!”

We laughed. I took a sip of my latte and she smiled over the table at me.

“You have a moustache.”

“I came in wearing one,” I countered.

“Then you’ve aged suddenly – it’s gone all white.” I dabbed at my top lip with a napkin. “Better?”

“I’ll have to think about that. You looked quite distinguished.”

I glanced down at the paperback.

“Stephen King?”

She blushed. “I like them straightforward. I have enough plotting and scheming to do to get me through the day.”

I held my hands up. “No criticism intended – I’ve read a few myself. It’s just that, you know,” I dropped my voice to a chilling stage whisper, “we’re in a coffee shop!”

She laughed again and instantly clapped her hands to her mouth, eyes darting left and right. Her hands came down, but the smile remained.

“Let them stare,” she proclaimed, loudly, “I’ll just pretend I’m writing an acerbic critique of pulp fiction in a modern setting.”

“While really enjoying it,” I added.

“Yes, while enjoying it, and grinning at the gory bits.”

“And drooling.”

“Ah, no, I don’t drool. Well, not often.”

We sat in silence for a few moments; a comfortable silence in which nothing needed to be said. A waitress clattered past the table, snatching up a tray left by the previous incumbent before scurrying off in a cloud of efficiency.

“Makes me tired just looking at them,” she said.

“I’m developing idleness into a new art form,” I smiled.

“I don’t think it’s possible to be idle. I’m always doing something. Even if I’m not. If you see what I mean.”

A brief pause.

“No, not at all.”

We laughed again.

“I mean, even when I’ve nothing to do and nothing I can busy myself with, I’m always thinking, watching what’s going on around me, that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean – it was just too much of a comedy opportunity to pass up, that’s all.”

She shot me a look which would have been withering if not for the radiant smile lighting the lower half of her face.

“So what did you think of him?”

“Him who?” I asked.

She nudged the paperback.

“Ah, the venerable Mr King. Actually, I thought he was a lot of fun. Something about vampires, if I remember. It was a long time ago.”

“I know the one,” she nodded sagely. “Lots of vampires. Lots of gore.”

“And drool,” I added.

“Oh yes, lots of drool. Almost as much as you had on your top lip a few minutes ago.” Again, the tinkling laugh lit the room.

“Your coffee.”

“S-Sorry?” I asked.

“Your coffee. Are you in the queue or aren’t you?” The waitress gave me a tired look, trying her best to avoid rolling her eyes. The woman behind me in the queue gave an exasperated sigh.

“Uh-uh-oh, th-thank y-y-you.” I stammered.

“Do you want milk or cream,” she said. Very slowly and very clearly, as though my inability to articulate in some way made me deaf and stupid as well.

“C-c-c-c”, the word lodged itself in the back of my throat; fully formed but unwilling to proceed.

She dropped a handful of of cream cartons on my tray and looked at the person to my left. I was dismissed.

I turned back towards the girl sitting by herself in the window seat. She glanced up momentarily and our eyes met, ever so briefly, before I dropped my gaze, blushing.

I collected my tray and looked around for a vacant seat, then walked towards an empty table for two. A quick glance at the girl revealed she was reading her book again.

“No sense dwelling on a fantasy,” I thought to myself, placing the tray on the table, “the words won’t dance for me.” I pulled a notebook and pen from my jacket pocket. “Controlled falling might be a start, though.”

Controlled Falling