The solution for the bricked Zunes is, they claim, to "wait until tomorrow."

I'm sure it was meant to be grim, but for some reason that story about videogame characters giving men self-esteem issues as well had us in stitches. Part of it may be that we delight in terrible realities, our receptors for joy and despair being reversed - like those creatures who thrive in boiling sea vents or devour toxins, we manifest an alien physiology.

So I spent a huge chunk of the weekend working on my D&D adventure. Playing with Scott, Will and Tycho for the Podcasts really got me hooked on the game. Speaking of those podcasts I'm not exactly sure when they'll be available online. I'll let you know here though as soon as I find out. I will say that there is a point at which Jim is hanging upside down from a rope ladder, 20 ft off the ground casting spells in all directions. He was as usual, magnificent. 

Between the treacherous drifts of the Everwinter and my trip eastward, we haven't really been in the office. With both of us in, the power rings have joined and the morning has largely been spent talking about crucial matters, like the effective range of javelins and the frequency with which an elder red dragon may issue gouts of crackling flame. It's glee of such a concentrated sort that I must store it up, keep it, as (statistically speaking) human lives seem to trend away from glee.

I grabbed this with my iPhone today and sent it to Tycho with the subject "Merry Christmas". 

I receive calls every couple of days from my cohort, who (in the thick of campaign planning) has questions about how certain ideas might be presented. Because they're beginners, essentially, all the way down the line, they don't know any of the old tricks. The classic gambits are unknown to them: the caravan raid, the switcheroo, none of 'em. I have begun his education.

What I said about the residents of Seattle vis a vis snow was true, but shortly after I said it we received the kind of snow that one might be genuinely skeered of, especially in a town that owns no snowplows. We drove to Spokane after our flight and all others were cancelled, and things are an order of magnitude worse here. The snow is so high that there's no other interpretation: some god (or fraternity of gods) is trying to erase this wicked land.

Our strip for last Monday was originally about (ahem) The Importance Of Dice Selection. On the graph, this topic is equal parts General and Specific, which nestled it in our loving crosshairs. It was perfectly reasonable subject matter, and the strip we constructed from those raw materials was piquant. Then, the night before it was meant to go up, Gabriel called me from a Barnes & Noble to ask what books he needed to run a game of Dungeons & Dragons.

Spokane has many faults, chief among them that it is the source of all human woe - a cleft in the wounded crust of the world that grants Satan and his twisted lieutenants easy access. But one thing you do learn there, other than the ability to create a tourniquet from your own intestines, is now to drive properly in the snow. We're snowed in here in Seattle, and not because you couldn't get around out there, but because driving in the snow with Seattle natives is like NASCAR in slow motion. It's not worth exposing yourself to those people, so you stay home. Even the sidewalks aren't safe. But that doesn't mean you can't go outside.

I've been lax in mentioning this one, and I've done you a disservice.  Built atop a tile-sliding, almost ultracasual matching game is an array of strategic assaults with very strong art and truly jubilant multiplayer.  You may find yourself delighted by the trailer.  It's from Pieces Interactive, it's Windows only, and there's a demo you should check out here.  

We go back to Spokane every other year for Christmas, and each time the town has sunk deeper into its abscess. The Earth's ribs jut there, greased along the edge with black oils that give dark dreams. In the damned orchards where the rank hatefruits droop, farmers fight its very soil - tilling up more stones than earth. There are always more. My heart is like this: stones, and stones, and more stones underneath.

When we arrived at the office this morning, we decided that we no longer had any affection for the comic we had written on Friday. We made a new one instead, pulled from the VGAs. The original strip did give us another idea though - something we can extend in a delicious way, stretching it out not unlike a Caramello. Over the Christmas Holiday, we'll investigate it in greater detail.

The Beta for Playstation home is now available to everyone, and now you know what I know: this is what happens when your marketing department tries to make a game. Here is everything you need to understand about Home, if you should accidentally launch it from your XMB: press and hold the Playstation button in the center of your Dual-Shock or Sixaxis controller. From the menu that appears, select Quit.

The auction last night was a huge success. We ended up raising just over $200k. Not too shabby for one night. I'm happy to say I did end up taking home the Warcraft statue, although I did end up spending slightly more than eleven dollars. 

One of the weirder things about acting as a charitable hub is that people are always giving you amazingly awesome things that you can't keep. I put up a few shots late last week, and I'm here to tell you that they represent only a thin slice, thin, perhaps even monomolecular.  Treasure is heaped so high here that navigating it has become treacherous. When I want to get to the kitchen, I tell people where I'm going so that a rescue might be forthcoming.