Exhaustion finally began to set in. My body was aching all over; my knees were locking up, by arms were tired from using the walking stick, and my lungs burned. However, as I stopped to rest, I began to shiver. The intense mountain winds permeated my light windbreaker jacket and over-cooled my sweaty torso. I had to keep moving now, in order to generate enough heat to stay warm. I knew I was getting into a desperate spot, but I had no choice but to continue at breakneck speed, passing everyone in front of me, breathing with varying emphasis in the different parts of my lungs, and resting when absolutely necessary.
As I reached 8th station I knew I was done. I needed to stop somewhere or death would take me. I knew that each station had a lodge, where you could pay a large fee (about $50-80 dollars) to rest for a few hours to a day. I had no money on me, but at this point I was fighting for survival.
I entered the lodge, expecting to be questioned or spoken to by someone managing the lodge. When nobody came to see me, I decided it was time to play in nonchalant. I took off my shoes and rested by the door for a moment, then headed into the bungalow. Rows upon rows of sleeping bags lined the floors and loft. I found a secluded corner, took off my sweaty shirt to dry it, and passed out in seconds.
When I came to a few hours later, I saw two japanese men sitting across the way from me. They were glancing at me and speaking to each other. “Uh oh,” I thought, “The jig is up.” Soon, an operator of the lodge came to me with a chart that showed names and prices. At first I couldn't understand, but it slowly dawned on me that he was asking if I had already paid. In my broken Japanese, I responded that I had no money. His reply was, “Get Out.” As I prepared my things to leave, I told him that I only came in because I thought I was going to die. He told me “Still bad, get out.” Well, business is business, I suppose.
With renewed energy and a dry shirt, I endured till the 9th station. The summit was finally within view, but it was still quite a distance away. With maybe another hour of climbing to go and the exhaustion affecting my psyche, I had a difficult decision to make. I could turn back after all this way, scurry back to the 5th station, and get the much needed rest that my body craved... Or I could finish this battle once and for all, reach the summit, and look back on this pivotal moment in my life with pride. A fire of conviction rose up from within me, and with unshakable determination I set off for the summit.
At 9:15AM, 21 hours after I left the restaurant near the train station, I had reached the summit of Mt. Fuji. Finally I had my Moment of Glory... but it only lasted for that one second. I immediately wanted to get the hell off of this cold, windy, barren mountain. But I did stop to savor the view and eat my bento lunch, which I had saved for when I reached this point. As I was about to depart, I saw climbers taking pictures by an obelisk that had the japanese writing signifying it was the summit. I needed to have this accomplishment captured in film, so I asked a random japanese climber, in japanese of course, if he could take my picture. He excitedly agreed and I positioned myself for the shot. If you look it up on Facebook, you can see in my face that I was exhausted, cold, and a little grumpy. However, I finally did it! I achieved the impossible, and in less than a day!
I'm almost finished, the last installment will be called:
Part 5: Energetic Descent
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Part 3: Test of a Man's Will
I woke a few hours later; my body was stiff, I could feel every muscle burning with resistance. I checked my cellphone to discover it was 1:30am. Everyone else had left to climb to the top at around 11pm, and there were a few backpackers heading out at this moment. I knew that if I couldn't get up now, I would not be able to make it to the top of the mountain later.
In the dead of night, I gathered my clothes, a bottle of water, and a bento lunch box. My ascent would be made without the backpack I began the trip with; I would leave that at the lodge and come back for it later. Only wearing sweatpants, a long sleeved shirt, and a windbreaker jacket, I started up the trail. Stay light, I thought, and get up that mountain quickly.
It was a clear night, and the stars and moon provided enough light for me to navigate the steep mountain trail. I reached 6th Station without much trouble, and decided to take a rest. I thought I could see the top, looming beyond the few stations that broke up the trial. These small lodges stood out as both beacons of reassurance and clusters of light that mentally anchored me to the goal ahead.
As I rested, I began a conversation with a japanese couple. They looked well prepared for the assent, wearing heavily packed climbing backpacks and wearing layers of clothing that covered everything but their faces. I told them the story of my climb thus far, and the male climber looked impressed. He offered me food and water to help me finish the climb. I gratefully took the extra food and carried it in a plastic bag, my only extra weight for the climb. I glanced toward the summit and figured that it would only take a few more hours of uphill battling until I would stand on the top of the mountain, which seemed to be near.
I was very, very wrong. The trek to 7th Station was noticeably steeper; each step on the gravel path was unsteady, and I would slide backwards a few centimeters as small rocks shifted under my weight. I now relied on my walking stick as a third leg, driving it firmly into the uncertain ground with every few steps. It was more difficult to breathe as well, from both the increased workout on the dramatic incline, as well as the high altitude's noticeable changes in pressure, oxygen content, and temperature. Oh, and about seeing the top: that was an illusion. The mountain's steepness made it seem that the peak was “just around the corner.”
Despite these challenges, the sunrise provided a profound respite. I halted my ascent to rest and take in the majestic view. My panoramic view was once in a lifetime; below me the blanket of green forest tucked in to the mountain's barren soil. Clouds rested like pillows above the forest, connecting the higher planes of sky to the upper peaks of nearby mountains. In the valley, foreign buildings and lights peppered the natural landscape. The clear lake glistened under the warm, intoxicating sunlight, and so too did the distant, sheer blue sea shimmer in the sunlight. For that moment, I felt as if I had forgotten the toiling that we mere mortals endure. My climb up this mountain felt more than a literal ascension, it were as if I could now view the world with the opened eyes of an indigenous Ancient.
Coming soon... Part 4: Face Death with a Grin
In the dead of night, I gathered my clothes, a bottle of water, and a bento lunch box. My ascent would be made without the backpack I began the trip with; I would leave that at the lodge and come back for it later. Only wearing sweatpants, a long sleeved shirt, and a windbreaker jacket, I started up the trail. Stay light, I thought, and get up that mountain quickly.
It was a clear night, and the stars and moon provided enough light for me to navigate the steep mountain trail. I reached 6th Station without much trouble, and decided to take a rest. I thought I could see the top, looming beyond the few stations that broke up the trial. These small lodges stood out as both beacons of reassurance and clusters of light that mentally anchored me to the goal ahead.
As I rested, I began a conversation with a japanese couple. They looked well prepared for the assent, wearing heavily packed climbing backpacks and wearing layers of clothing that covered everything but their faces. I told them the story of my climb thus far, and the male climber looked impressed. He offered me food and water to help me finish the climb. I gratefully took the extra food and carried it in a plastic bag, my only extra weight for the climb. I glanced toward the summit and figured that it would only take a few more hours of uphill battling until I would stand on the top of the mountain, which seemed to be near.
I was very, very wrong. The trek to 7th Station was noticeably steeper; each step on the gravel path was unsteady, and I would slide backwards a few centimeters as small rocks shifted under my weight. I now relied on my walking stick as a third leg, driving it firmly into the uncertain ground with every few steps. It was more difficult to breathe as well, from both the increased workout on the dramatic incline, as well as the high altitude's noticeable changes in pressure, oxygen content, and temperature. Oh, and about seeing the top: that was an illusion. The mountain's steepness made it seem that the peak was “just around the corner.”
Despite these challenges, the sunrise provided a profound respite. I halted my ascent to rest and take in the majestic view. My panoramic view was once in a lifetime; below me the blanket of green forest tucked in to the mountain's barren soil. Clouds rested like pillows above the forest, connecting the higher planes of sky to the upper peaks of nearby mountains. In the valley, foreign buildings and lights peppered the natural landscape. The clear lake glistened under the warm, intoxicating sunlight, and so too did the distant, sheer blue sea shimmer in the sunlight. For that moment, I felt as if I had forgotten the toiling that we mere mortals endure. My climb up this mountain felt more than a literal ascension, it were as if I could now view the world with the opened eyes of an indigenous Ancient.
Coming soon... Part 4: Face Death with a Grin
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
One Mountain, One Man
My travels in Japan have come to an end, however I need to chronicle the last few adventures and lessons. In subsequent posts, I'll be unveiling the future direction of this blog and what can be expected in further posts. However, let me begin with my most memorable event in the land of the rising sun; the 3 part story of the day I climbed a mountain.
Part 1: A Mammoth Decision
After taking a night bus to Tokyo from the university in Akita, I navigated the train system from Tokyo Station to Kawaguchiko station. I stepped off the train and stood in the presence of Japan's largest mountain and dormant (but soon active) volcano, Mount Fuji.
Humbled by its massive size and towering peak, I decided I should fill my belly before tackling such an assent. The local town was bustling with tourists, so I started walking down the street to the first restaurant I could find. It was a small cafe with only a few backpackers seated for service, so I entered and chose Beef Curry from the menu.
I decided to create a plan of attack for this mountain. My left pocket held my tactician's tablet, a palm-sized notebook where I could compare the relative costs and benefits for each strategy;
Plan 1) Scale the Fugisan (I had already paid for a bus ticket, and I wouldn't be with a group so nobody could know where I am, plus I'll be fatigued before getting halfway up the mountain. However, I'll have an awesome story and challenge myself, if I would just be a man, fill up my water pack and move through the pain)
Plan 2) Take the Bus and Meet friends at 5th Point/ halfway up the mountain (Basically the opposite arguments here. I would save energy by using the purchased bus ticket and meet up with friends at the designated point, but I would be nothing but a simple tourist and miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime experience)
After I finished my meal, I came to my conclusion. I thought to myself, "Fuck it, I'm climbing the bitch." Just after that, a backpacker who was also about to leave the restaurant gave me his hiking stick (the one you see in my facebook picture) and told me it was from his morning ascent. Taking this as a confirmatory sign from the universe, I thanked him and accepted the walking stick with my red-hot spirit blazing for adventure. And so my journey began ^_^
Part 2: Initial Ascent
The first two to three hours were a plunge into the doubting depths of my being. I started walking in the direction of the mountain along the main road, where busses shuttled herds of tourists to and from the 5th point (halfway up the mountain). It was a hot, humid day and the sun was cooking my flesh. I sipped away at the straw connected to my water pack, and observed the incoming doubts and compromises my mind began to create. Thoughts told me to turn back, or get on a bus, or try to hitchhike. I dismissed these and pushed forward through the oppressive heat, stopping every hour or two to rest and eat.
After three hours of walking, my defensively pessimistic mind began to settle and my spirit opened up. As I walked on I felt as if the mountain herself was observing me climb. The surrounding nature was calm and beautiful; the dense forest was filled with the quiet humming of insects and occasional chirping of birds.
I soon began to sing (both known and made up songs) with a rush of theatrical excitement, as if I were on stage or starring in a motion picture. I waved to passing busses and cars, grinning with pride. Every step was filled with purpose, and every kilometer a testament to human persistance. With force and fervor, I smashaed the walking stick into the ground in time with my steps, my body now becoming an instrument that drummed a beat against the pavement.
Kept in time by the perpetual rhythm of foot, stick, and concrete, I conquered First Step, Second Step, Third, Forth. Soon night fell, and I walked on by the light of the moon and stars. I finally reached the 5th station lodge at 9:30pm; I had walked 9 hours what most people took a 35 minute bus ride to skip over. After meeting with friends and sharing stories of travels thus far, I collapsed on the tatami mats to rest. Later I forced down a Bento dinner; I had no appetite, and only felt the throbbing pain in my calves. I finally went to sleep in a sleeping bag, glad to finally rest my muscles.
Coming soon...
Part 3: Test of a Man's Will!
Part 1: A Mammoth Decision
After taking a night bus to Tokyo from the university in Akita, I navigated the train system from Tokyo Station to Kawaguchiko station. I stepped off the train and stood in the presence of Japan's largest mountain and dormant (but soon active) volcano, Mount Fuji.
Humbled by its massive size and towering peak, I decided I should fill my belly before tackling such an assent. The local town was bustling with tourists, so I started walking down the street to the first restaurant I could find. It was a small cafe with only a few backpackers seated for service, so I entered and chose Beef Curry from the menu.
I decided to create a plan of attack for this mountain. My left pocket held my tactician's tablet, a palm-sized notebook where I could compare the relative costs and benefits for each strategy;
Plan 1) Scale the Fugisan (I had already paid for a bus ticket, and I wouldn't be with a group so nobody could know where I am, plus I'll be fatigued before getting halfway up the mountain. However, I'll have an awesome story and challenge myself, if I would just be a man, fill up my water pack and move through the pain)
Plan 2) Take the Bus and Meet friends at 5th Point/ halfway up the mountain (Basically the opposite arguments here. I would save energy by using the purchased bus ticket and meet up with friends at the designated point, but I would be nothing but a simple tourist and miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime experience)
After I finished my meal, I came to my conclusion. I thought to myself, "Fuck it, I'm climbing the bitch." Just after that, a backpacker who was also about to leave the restaurant gave me his hiking stick (the one you see in my facebook picture) and told me it was from his morning ascent. Taking this as a confirmatory sign from the universe, I thanked him and accepted the walking stick with my red-hot spirit blazing for adventure. And so my journey began ^_^
Part 2: Initial Ascent
The first two to three hours were a plunge into the doubting depths of my being. I started walking in the direction of the mountain along the main road, where busses shuttled herds of tourists to and from the 5th point (halfway up the mountain). It was a hot, humid day and the sun was cooking my flesh. I sipped away at the straw connected to my water pack, and observed the incoming doubts and compromises my mind began to create. Thoughts told me to turn back, or get on a bus, or try to hitchhike. I dismissed these and pushed forward through the oppressive heat, stopping every hour or two to rest and eat.
After three hours of walking, my defensively pessimistic mind began to settle and my spirit opened up. As I walked on I felt as if the mountain herself was observing me climb. The surrounding nature was calm and beautiful; the dense forest was filled with the quiet humming of insects and occasional chirping of birds.
I soon began to sing (both known and made up songs) with a rush of theatrical excitement, as if I were on stage or starring in a motion picture. I waved to passing busses and cars, grinning with pride. Every step was filled with purpose, and every kilometer a testament to human persistance. With force and fervor, I smashaed the walking stick into the ground in time with my steps, my body now becoming an instrument that drummed a beat against the pavement.
Kept in time by the perpetual rhythm of foot, stick, and concrete, I conquered First Step, Second Step, Third, Forth. Soon night fell, and I walked on by the light of the moon and stars. I finally reached the 5th station lodge at 9:30pm; I had walked 9 hours what most people took a 35 minute bus ride to skip over. After meeting with friends and sharing stories of travels thus far, I collapsed on the tatami mats to rest. Later I forced down a Bento dinner; I had no appetite, and only felt the throbbing pain in my calves. I finally went to sleep in a sleeping bag, glad to finally rest my muscles.
Coming soon...
Part 3: Test of a Man's Will!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Passing of an Irreplaceable Friend
When I first heard the news on Facebook, I was shocked and in disbelief. Gradually I uncovered the tale from friends and family; one of my closest friends from home didn't come home from a party, because he fell to his death in a nearby quarry. It seemed like some kind of bad joke, or horrible plot twist from a teen movie. But this is cold hard reality for everyone back in Pennsylvania, and for me too.
I know people are taking Eric Gotwols' death very badly, and everyone has to deal with the tragedy of death in their own way. I've learned to deal with it from when my Dad passed away, from multiple suicide attempts with close friends and family members, and even lately when a friend of mine here in Japan cut herself and I helped clean up the mess. I try to flip the tragedy into comedy, by remembering the good times and consciously recognizing how much we love each other, even if things between us weren't always 'perfect.' Heck, in this case I even chuckled because of the fact that I knew Eric so well, I could just take a guess that he was probably taking a piss and just didn't notice the massive quarry nearby.
I loved Eric so much. I reflect back on having him and all our friends over at my house almost daily to play video games and hang out. He was full of competitive spirit, and would passionately enlighten everyone about the things that he held most dear; sports of all kinds, movies of all genres, video games of all systems, friends from high school and college, his fraturnity TKE, his family, and any Philadelphia sports team. His bold presence commanded attention if you were nearby; I could listen to him go on for hours about sports and not have the slightest idea what he was talking about, but the way he told stories kept me so damn interested that I'd be compelled to ask him more!
Eric inspired me in many ways, and in fact this blog's title "Journey of a Man" was a phrase that he used to describe this very trip to Japan. I was looking forward to sharing my experiences here with him by sharing my personal journal, and especially talking about the baseball game I'll see in Tokyo. I wanted to tell him stories about Japan so fascinating that he would keep asking me more, and perhaps get the itch to travel. Since his passing, the sad fact is that these aspirations of mine are now simply illusions.
We buy into so many illusions in life, and we create them daily. Some people might not want to hear this, but one illusion is that we miss someone. What we really miss is the feeling that someone gave us, what their presence created in us. That longing to see a lost soul and regain that feeling is really just the illusion of separation. When you open your heart with gratitude and remember something awesome about that person, the feeling of their presence will be created right at that moment.
In any case, we're all human and we'll still buy into the drama of a soul departed. It doesn't matter what you believe about what happens to you after you die, whether it's heaven, hell, purgatory, valhalla, reincarnation, sleeping under the dirt, or warming up in the dugout at a baseball game set in the Afterlife Amphitheater (which would be awesome). When somebody you love unexpectedly disappears from your life, the hurt is a wake up call to create a better feeling in your life.
It may take a day, a week, months, or even years to get past the tears of sorrow. But transforming those tears into tears of laughter and joy from memories of the departed at their best keeps the true spirit of that person alive, and it's as if they are still around. I'm sure Eric would be happy to be around so many friends who are laughing and sharing memories about him. He'd be at the center of attention, still!
I personally decided to make myself accountable for my intentions after digesting the reality of Eric's passing. I have been smoking a lot out here in Akita, and I had always intended to quit after college. But I threw out my last pack of Marlboros and gave it up now, in realizing just how short life already is.
Once a year, cherry blossoms brilliantly bloom en masse. Their sight and auroma lift the spirits of a weary passerby, inspiring the joy of life. Just as quickly as they arrive, the white and pink flower petals descend from their high branches and litter the ground. As one walks by, gusts of wind twirl the dancing colors, which evokes the sensation of experiencing mysteries that we do not quite understand. Life and Death coexist, yet The Journey of a Man continues.
I know people are taking Eric Gotwols' death very badly, and everyone has to deal with the tragedy of death in their own way. I've learned to deal with it from when my Dad passed away, from multiple suicide attempts with close friends and family members, and even lately when a friend of mine here in Japan cut herself and I helped clean up the mess. I try to flip the tragedy into comedy, by remembering the good times and consciously recognizing how much we love each other, even if things between us weren't always 'perfect.' Heck, in this case I even chuckled because of the fact that I knew Eric so well, I could just take a guess that he was probably taking a piss and just didn't notice the massive quarry nearby.
I loved Eric so much. I reflect back on having him and all our friends over at my house almost daily to play video games and hang out. He was full of competitive spirit, and would passionately enlighten everyone about the things that he held most dear; sports of all kinds, movies of all genres, video games of all systems, friends from high school and college, his fraturnity TKE, his family, and any Philadelphia sports team. His bold presence commanded attention if you were nearby; I could listen to him go on for hours about sports and not have the slightest idea what he was talking about, but the way he told stories kept me so damn interested that I'd be compelled to ask him more!
Eric inspired me in many ways, and in fact this blog's title "Journey of a Man" was a phrase that he used to describe this very trip to Japan. I was looking forward to sharing my experiences here with him by sharing my personal journal, and especially talking about the baseball game I'll see in Tokyo. I wanted to tell him stories about Japan so fascinating that he would keep asking me more, and perhaps get the itch to travel. Since his passing, the sad fact is that these aspirations of mine are now simply illusions.
We buy into so many illusions in life, and we create them daily. Some people might not want to hear this, but one illusion is that we miss someone. What we really miss is the feeling that someone gave us, what their presence created in us. That longing to see a lost soul and regain that feeling is really just the illusion of separation. When you open your heart with gratitude and remember something awesome about that person, the feeling of their presence will be created right at that moment.
In any case, we're all human and we'll still buy into the drama of a soul departed. It doesn't matter what you believe about what happens to you after you die, whether it's heaven, hell, purgatory, valhalla, reincarnation, sleeping under the dirt, or warming up in the dugout at a baseball game set in the Afterlife Amphitheater (which would be awesome). When somebody you love unexpectedly disappears from your life, the hurt is a wake up call to create a better feeling in your life.
It may take a day, a week, months, or even years to get past the tears of sorrow. But transforming those tears into tears of laughter and joy from memories of the departed at their best keeps the true spirit of that person alive, and it's as if they are still around. I'm sure Eric would be happy to be around so many friends who are laughing and sharing memories about him. He'd be at the center of attention, still!
I personally decided to make myself accountable for my intentions after digesting the reality of Eric's passing. I have been smoking a lot out here in Akita, and I had always intended to quit after college. But I threw out my last pack of Marlboros and gave it up now, in realizing just how short life already is.
Once a year, cherry blossoms brilliantly bloom en masse. Their sight and auroma lift the spirits of a weary passerby, inspiring the joy of life. Just as quickly as they arrive, the white and pink flower petals descend from their high branches and litter the ground. As one walks by, gusts of wind twirl the dancing colors, which evokes the sensation of experiencing mysteries that we do not quite understand. Life and Death coexist, yet The Journey of a Man continues.
Monday, July 13, 2009
The Future of Gaming
During my time in Japan, I've been doing plenty of research on the games industry via websites and podcasts. Since my ultimate goal is to break in and get my creative juices flowing via game creation, I feel like this is the best way to gain some peripheral career experience. I still have to focus on actually creating games (hopefully after this semester ends, because learning Japanese is really time consuming!), but this research helps me get an idea of what is out there, and what may come beyond the horizon.
Mobile gaming has taken off big time. The Iphone and it's application store, though cluttered with useless junk and seriously in need of quality control, has given game developers a great platform to release high quality games at the low end market price. More importantly, it has extended social gaming away from the stagnant PC screen to the sidewalks of the city and the department stores of suburbia. We could see further implementation of GPS coordinate recognition with future game designs, and the possibility of encoding information into different geographical areas. Imagine: the next zombie game takes place in your home town, and you need to hunt down all the zombies while doing your grocery shopping!
I was thinking about a way to use games to bridge the gap between the young and old generations. When I think about the older generation, I imagine they are confused and maybe afriad of the younger generation's obsession with video games, seeing it merely as a "time waster." With more and more research proving the opposite, it's time to focus on the positive use of games.
Considering that one day I will become an old gamer with deteroirated visual/motor skills, what would I want to play with my kids or grandkids, who DO have the fresh reflexes available? My advantage over the younger generation is not only the 30+ years of gaming experience, but also the decades of world knowledge I will have accumlated. There could be some interesting ways of fusing the Skills of the Young with the Knowledge of the Old. Perhaps a mech game that demands so much of the player, that in fact it requires 2 players to succeed; the younger rides in the cockpit, pilots the mech with their superior motor coordination, and focuses on the micro encounters. Meanwhile, the elder focuses on the macro-war and declares strategies/mission objectives from a real-time updating battlefield scenario so as to affect the larger war at hand.
What about the current elderly population's invlovement in our lives? I think we teenagers/ young adults are sometimes fool ourselves into thinking that "old people are useless" when it comes to play. However, I can remember spending about 3 years watching my Poppop dominate Jeopardy and The Price Is Right from his livingroom couch. His gaming knowledge is actually quite extensive; so why not harness that in conjunction with my advanced hand-eye coordination? I'd love to see a game design that demands both real world knowledge and fine motor skills (and comeon, we can do better than Mario Is Missing).
The Wii has got the right idea with Wii Sports and Wii Fit. Okay, I know it's not an effective means for the 15-35 age group to get into supreme athletic shape, but it has gotten middle aged moms to buy video games for themselves while taking their kids to Gamestop. I'm optimistic here, I think this could be the start of a trend that pulls in the older generation, as well as some gaming skeptics, to buy and play video games with us. I wouldn't be suprised if this becomes the case, since the video game industry is doing very will in our currently recessive economy and still has room for growth.
Once we've converted the elders and skeptics, we can move on to the final step... world domination! MWAHAHAHA!
Mobile gaming has taken off big time. The Iphone and it's application store, though cluttered with useless junk and seriously in need of quality control, has given game developers a great platform to release high quality games at the low end market price. More importantly, it has extended social gaming away from the stagnant PC screen to the sidewalks of the city and the department stores of suburbia. We could see further implementation of GPS coordinate recognition with future game designs, and the possibility of encoding information into different geographical areas. Imagine: the next zombie game takes place in your home town, and you need to hunt down all the zombies while doing your grocery shopping!
I was thinking about a way to use games to bridge the gap between the young and old generations. When I think about the older generation, I imagine they are confused and maybe afriad of the younger generation's obsession with video games, seeing it merely as a "time waster." With more and more research proving the opposite, it's time to focus on the positive use of games.
Considering that one day I will become an old gamer with deteroirated visual/motor skills, what would I want to play with my kids or grandkids, who DO have the fresh reflexes available? My advantage over the younger generation is not only the 30+ years of gaming experience, but also the decades of world knowledge I will have accumlated. There could be some interesting ways of fusing the Skills of the Young with the Knowledge of the Old. Perhaps a mech game that demands so much of the player, that in fact it requires 2 players to succeed; the younger rides in the cockpit, pilots the mech with their superior motor coordination, and focuses on the micro encounters. Meanwhile, the elder focuses on the macro-war and declares strategies/mission objectives from a real-time updating battlefield scenario so as to affect the larger war at hand.
What about the current elderly population's invlovement in our lives? I think we teenagers/ young adults are sometimes fool ourselves into thinking that "old people are useless" when it comes to play. However, I can remember spending about 3 years watching my Poppop dominate Jeopardy and The Price Is Right from his livingroom couch. His gaming knowledge is actually quite extensive; so why not harness that in conjunction with my advanced hand-eye coordination? I'd love to see a game design that demands both real world knowledge and fine motor skills (and comeon, we can do better than Mario Is Missing).
The Wii has got the right idea with Wii Sports and Wii Fit. Okay, I know it's not an effective means for the 15-35 age group to get into supreme athletic shape, but it has gotten middle aged moms to buy video games for themselves while taking their kids to Gamestop. I'm optimistic here, I think this could be the start of a trend that pulls in the older generation, as well as some gaming skeptics, to buy and play video games with us. I wouldn't be suprised if this becomes the case, since the video game industry is doing very will in our currently recessive economy and still has room for growth.
Once we've converted the elders and skeptics, we can move on to the final step... world domination! MWAHAHAHA!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
BIG UPDATE: Can a Man Explode?
I've heard of human spontaneous combustion, and I surmise a weak postulate: that a man can in fact explode from doing too many things at once. This past week has been fantastic, and I hope you will listen to how fun it has been!
Last Tuesday, I spent ALL of my time in-between classes training in 2 fighting games for the PS3, Soul Calibur 4 and Street Fighter 4. Both of them are amazingly complex, yet I find it more difficult to learn and apply skills in SC4 over SF4 for a few key reasons:
1) Use of 3 dimensions over 2 dimensions
2) Greater number of different button-combinations for techniques
3) Greater amount of characters available to play
Both of them are a challenge to learn, but my years of experience playing Smash Brothers (especially the summer of playing in the House of Pain) have given me the skills in timing, reading attack precedence, and creating mind-games that are easily transferable to these fighting games. Gotta love virtual competition haha.
I've been helping out with the Environment and Ecology Club here by harvesting the leeks, onions, and spinach we planted several weeks ago and selling these vegetables to AIU attendees and affiliates. I also posted some small flyers in the computer lab that had some suggestions to save paper on them. I feel like my "peasant farmer" experience with the EEC, joined with recent knowledge of buying organic vs. buying local, has led me to a personal conviction to renew my membership at the cooperative market in Ithaca and support local farmers. I'm hoping they sell white rice, which is such a great food staple and I hope to cook with it a ton when I move into my apartment at IC this fall. Ah, I can see myself now; riding my badass motobike to the local farmers market and chatting with locals while buying fresh, pesticide-free fruits and vegetables... Okay, kind of dorky but it sounds balanced and good to me haha.
In more JAPAN related news, I spent this past weekend playing with ADORABLE little japanese children! (There is a large chance that I will either marry a japanese woman or adopt a japanese child, either way I'm getting my hands on one!). My fellow students and I introduced ourselves in front of 100 squirming kiddies and their parents on a rainy saturday morning. It was an optional celebration day at the school, and there were games and activities set up all over. I helped out by operating the raffle booth in a flashy orange yukata (robe) and white headband. One kid in particular was wailing and flailing because he wanted one of the prizes, pretty funny to watch actually haha. I brought my own gifts for the little rugrats; sea animal & star stickers, and those little wooden airplanes that you assemble. Not only did I get paid and fed a FANTASTIC set lunch of fried chicken, rice, miso, and salad, but I also took pictures with the stage performers dressed as popular Japanese cartoon characters. The main one is known as Anpanman, and I find it clever marketing that this character is used to sell bread (In the cartoon, he gives his friends power by pulling off his bread-face and giving it to friends).
Last Tuesday, I spent ALL of my time in-between classes training in 2 fighting games for the PS3, Soul Calibur 4 and Street Fighter 4. Both of them are amazingly complex, yet I find it more difficult to learn and apply skills in SC4 over SF4 for a few key reasons:
1) Use of 3 dimensions over 2 dimensions
2) Greater number of different button-combinations for techniques
3) Greater amount of characters available to play
Both of them are a challenge to learn, but my years of experience playing Smash Brothers (especially the summer of playing in the House of Pain) have given me the skills in timing, reading attack precedence, and creating mind-games that are easily transferable to these fighting games. Gotta love virtual competition haha.
I've been helping out with the Environment and Ecology Club here by harvesting the leeks, onions, and spinach we planted several weeks ago and selling these vegetables to AIU attendees and affiliates. I also posted some small flyers in the computer lab that had some suggestions to save paper on them. I feel like my "peasant farmer" experience with the EEC, joined with recent knowledge of buying organic vs. buying local, has led me to a personal conviction to renew my membership at the cooperative market in Ithaca and support local farmers. I'm hoping they sell white rice, which is such a great food staple and I hope to cook with it a ton when I move into my apartment at IC this fall. Ah, I can see myself now; riding my badass motobike to the local farmers market and chatting with locals while buying fresh, pesticide-free fruits and vegetables... Okay, kind of dorky but it sounds balanced and good to me haha.
In more JAPAN related news, I spent this past weekend playing with ADORABLE little japanese children! (There is a large chance that I will either marry a japanese woman or adopt a japanese child, either way I'm getting my hands on one!). My fellow students and I introduced ourselves in front of 100 squirming kiddies and their parents on a rainy saturday morning. It was an optional celebration day at the school, and there were games and activities set up all over. I helped out by operating the raffle booth in a flashy orange yukata (robe) and white headband. One kid in particular was wailing and flailing because he wanted one of the prizes, pretty funny to watch actually haha. I brought my own gifts for the little rugrats; sea animal & star stickers, and those little wooden airplanes that you assemble. Not only did I get paid and fed a FANTASTIC set lunch of fried chicken, rice, miso, and salad, but I also took pictures with the stage performers dressed as popular Japanese cartoon characters. The main one is known as Anpanman, and I find it clever marketing that this character is used to sell bread (In the cartoon, he gives his friends power by pulling off his bread-face and giving it to friends).
Sunday, June 28, 2009
My Time as a Buddhist Priest
Every year in Yuwa, the locals hold a festival honoring their shinto roots. I took part in this festival by transforming into a shinto priest and participating in the local parade. I wore the traditional priest clothes; a yukata robe covered by more white robes, a black hat, and very uncomfortable wooden sandals called getta. Several international students joined me in this event. We were assigned to help the older men by carrying the portable shrine (mikoshi) as well as very tall staves with banners attached to them.
The female head priestess and her nobly dressed priests began the ceremony with various chants in and around the temple. It's hard to say what they were doing, since it was all in japanese and a dialect that is difficult to understand. In any case, after some time of this ritual prayer and bowing we took our leave and began the hour long parade into town. Many of the villagers gathered outside of their homes and greeted us with bows and smiles. I kept greeting everyone with a "konnichiwa" and a huge grin on my face, eliciting a chuckle from several amused villagers.
We arrived at another temple in the middle of town to commence in more ceremony. This time, all of the priests were sitting in a large tatami room, and at certain times we would all bow toward the shrine. What caught my interest the most was a live katana demonstration by one of the priests; it was almost as if his soul and the sword's were one, and together they danced before us to please the kami and aquire their blessing. I was impressed at the priest's form, speed, and economy of motion.
This ceremony was followed by a delicious bento lunch with beer and sake. Oh yeah, those priests could drink! It was a very humid day, so a little buzz was motivating for us all to complete the our procession through the rest of the town. We arrived at one more small temple, and were given a small shot of sake to drink! One more run through the town, and we finally ended up back at the first temple. We all circled the temple a few times before finally ending the ceremony.
I was completely exhausted by this event; it was the hottest day in Japan so far and the stiff wooden shoes I was wearing were too small for my feet. I am glad I had the opportunity to experience this local custom, and to see such an old tradition still celebrated in this modernizing world. However, I don't expect to ever desire the monastic life or to wear those uncomfortable getta again; I now have a new level of understanding for the pain women endure when wearing high heeled shoes.
The female head priestess and her nobly dressed priests began the ceremony with various chants in and around the temple. It's hard to say what they were doing, since it was all in japanese and a dialect that is difficult to understand. In any case, after some time of this ritual prayer and bowing we took our leave and began the hour long parade into town. Many of the villagers gathered outside of their homes and greeted us with bows and smiles. I kept greeting everyone with a "konnichiwa" and a huge grin on my face, eliciting a chuckle from several amused villagers.
We arrived at another temple in the middle of town to commence in more ceremony. This time, all of the priests were sitting in a large tatami room, and at certain times we would all bow toward the shrine. What caught my interest the most was a live katana demonstration by one of the priests; it was almost as if his soul and the sword's were one, and together they danced before us to please the kami and aquire their blessing. I was impressed at the priest's form, speed, and economy of motion.
This ceremony was followed by a delicious bento lunch with beer and sake. Oh yeah, those priests could drink! It was a very humid day, so a little buzz was motivating for us all to complete the our procession through the rest of the town. We arrived at one more small temple, and were given a small shot of sake to drink! One more run through the town, and we finally ended up back at the first temple. We all circled the temple a few times before finally ending the ceremony.
I was completely exhausted by this event; it was the hottest day in Japan so far and the stiff wooden shoes I was wearing were too small for my feet. I am glad I had the opportunity to experience this local custom, and to see such an old tradition still celebrated in this modernizing world. However, I don't expect to ever desire the monastic life or to wear those uncomfortable getta again; I now have a new level of understanding for the pain women endure when wearing high heeled shoes.
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