Empire At War

Someone said something about balance issues in the upcoming Star Wars game Empire At War being developed by the guys who used to make Command & Conquer. Just because it's them I know the game will kick ass and chew bubblegum.

Still, the pantywaistes in the LucasArts forums keep making much ado over the topic hoping that no matter which faction you play as, the game will be super duper balanced and equal so every one has the chance to win and have fun, fun, fun. Note the blatant sarcasm. I had this to say:

Honestly, I don't care about balance. The entire point of Star Wars is that the war IS unbalanced. It's not fair being the Rebel Alliance. It took their entire fleet to win at Endor and the battle was only a diversion to get the small ships in there to blow up the Death Star. And that was AFTER the clandestine maneuver to destroy the shield generator was a success. And they never would have gotten that done if it hadn't been for those damn cuddly teddy bears!

The Empire is better funded, has better capital ships, has a more ruthless policy on expendable assets such as pilots and troops (just clone more) and unlimited funds. They hold more territory and are general badasses that control through fear and intimidation.

The mere sight of a single Star Destroyer spells "I just wet myself" for most anyone, let alone a fleet surrounding a Super Star Destroyer. Unless you're an unstoppable asteroid the size of a Nebulon-B Frigate, a Star Destroyer isn't particularly scared of you.

Therefore, RTS theory suggests that tactics in Empire At War will differ between factions.

For example, if you're the Rebellion, you do like rebels do and make surgical strikes, picking at your enemy from several different strategic angles until he bleeds himself to death. And you risk your own life doing it.

Battle of Endor; "Get as close as you can and attack those Star Destroyers at point blank range... We might just take a few of them with us." The rebels were outgunned, outmanned and out of luck. But they won 'cuz, damn it, it was the last movie. And they used hard-core, near kamikaze tactics to hurt the Empire. Yeah, homeboy didn't mean to fly his beat up A-Wing into the bridge of the Executor, but gosh it sure was effective wasn't it?

Meanwhile, if you're playing as the Empire, all you have to do is show up and people surrender.

So, I'd start off playing as the Empire. Stronger units, more resources, easier wins. The REAL challenge is playing as the Rebels against a monstrous, unstoppable enemy.

Ahh, the hopeless battle of a faithful few against insurmountable odds. God, I love Star Wars!

THANKS, GEORGE!

Heather

I like girls named Heather. One of the first girls I ever had a crush on had that name. She was tiny and blonde, and so was her intelligence. But she had a wicked smile that made my stomach flutter on cue. She was 10 and I was 12. She's married now. I hear he's wealthy.

I am also wealthy, but not from material riches like money or jewels or those gold nickels that you pay thirty bucks for off the television. Yeah, those.

I'm on the phone with Heather -- another Heather -- and we're talking about the shots people with diabetes must take. She's making noises as she injects herself. They are moans stemmed from the pain of the needle, but over the phone they sound like they could be moans about anything. Anything. It's pretty hot.

She knows I'm writing all this down as it happens which makes it funny. I shouldn't write about a friend in a sexual matter but because it's done to be humorous, it is acceptable. At least, that is my rationale. I don't know if I spelled that correctly but I don't feel like spell checking. It's nearly three in the morning and I'm lazy.

The cat, meanwhile, is beneath my right foot. With every noise Heather makes, the cat looks around like there's someone else in the room ... I just creeped myself out and looked around the room.

We've already discussed how wimpy hurricane Emily became. At first she was a scary category III badass storm, then she piddled down to tropical storm status the second she touched land and just generally made things very wet. I suddenly giggle to the thought of "making Emily wet".

Anyway, Heather is removing herself from the phone to go to bed. It is, afterall, nearlly three in the morning. She just used the word "interim" in a sentence. Heather is also blonde, but unlike the married Heather, this one uses big words. I hear she reads alot.

Me likey.

Hurricane Emily

I once knew a girl named Emily. She was a wealthy, 17 year old California daddy's girl who broke my heart and was later romantically linked to Owen Wilson whom she met in Hawaii during the filming of The Big Bounce, who then called her periodically. Yes, the Owen Wilson. I wouldn't make that up.

But Emily wasn't a hurricane. Hell, she wasn't even a tropical depression. (She may have been depressing, but that's another story.)

Another Emily is at my doorstep this evening. She has introduced herself to the Texas coast as a Type III hurricane, whatever that means. I'll admit it sounds more important than a Type I but less flamboyant as a Type X. I like the letter "x". It has a cool sound.

"X".

If I lived on the west coast it'd be a typhoon. "Typhoon" is cooler than "hurricane". It sounds like a badass storm. "Hurricane" gives me an image of a sugar-coated, British candy that melts in your mouth and just kind of makes your hand sticky when you hold it too long.

Regardless, I wanted to photograph Emily's approach to the mainland but there isn't much more than a few dark clouds overhead. Looks like a regular overcast day and not very exciting. Maybe the winds will rage and throw some cattle around.

The lenses of my camera were dirty so I went to Best Buy to purchase a cleaning kit. The corpulant blonde chick who works in the camera department has a chest that keeps her uniform shirt from buttoning all the way. She wore a black bra today and the way she bent over the counter I could see enough cleavage to sandbag my house with.

When she pulled the plastic sack out, the sides were stuck together so instead of shaking the bag to open it, she gently blew into it the way a woman-who's-sexy-and-not-even-trying would. She placed the kit into the sack and handed it to me with a great big, busty blonde smile and with a tiny, nasal, busty blonde voice said, "thank you!" I've never been more turned on.

Therefore, this is the sexiest lens cleaning kit I have ever owned!

As you can see, I'm not concerned about Emily. I feel so strongly that the "hurricane" will be so anti-climactic that I have refused to board up my bedroom window. Tonight I'm having lasagna. I will enjoy it thoroughly.

"Metallic Bliss"

Driving through a Friday evening drizzle, I was late for a wedding rehearsal when I phoned in this audioblog. Keep in mind I'm half-asleep, driving and talking on the phone. And to myself, no less.

Early Morning Gibberish

I'm going insane. Thankfully, with free nighttime minutes, my insanity doesn't cost me anything.

Part I:

Part II:

Part III:

Whitley Streiber Is Full of Crap

Early one Wednesday morning I was reading a famous series of books about an author's repeated abductions by extraterrestrials. I was both sleepy and terrified.

Part I:

Part II:

Part III:

Belated Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday and I am now twenty-six years old. Today I made my first audioblog ... you can tell.

New Company

After our Wednesday night meeting, it became clear that Rick, Jorge and Julian had decided to dissolve Jōb Omnimedia. I had to think fast. Thursday morning, I was at the county clerk's office getting paperwork filled out and procuring my new, sole proprietorship: J. R. Johnston Photography.

That day, around 4 in the afternoon, Jorge and Julian were on their way to a meeting when they were hit head-on by an F-250 on Nolana in McAllen. They survived with nary a few lacerations. Jorge has opted to start calling Julian "Scarface".

"Are joo kid-eeng me, mang?"