The pin is quivering.

I bring you a tale of Tiger Woods. Well, more of an image, really. Some time ago, a college friend came back into town for a few days and swung by the apartment to catch up on some much-needed videogame competition. I introduced him to Tiger Woods PGA Tour for the Xbox, a game which quickly devours the soul of all who play it -- so fun, so addictive. He quickly built a character -- Fish -- and hit the links with vigor. Another friend came by to join in the fun, bringing with him a memory stick with the Alpha and the Omega of TW gameplay: his character, Victor Cracker.

You see, Victor Cracker is to TW what a god is to mortals. When he descends from the realm of the ideal and interferes with the lives of men, he leaves a wake of destruction and lamentation. Tales of the visit last for generations. But, like gold inlaid over silver, Victor Cracker only augments the remarkable skill of his human. The guy's got an unnatural knack for the game, and having a maxed-out character only adds to the point spread.

So, we play a few rounds and Victor Cracker dominates. Everyone is fine, we shake hands and say good night.

The next day, Fish is back. Something is different, though. His hands are as still as stone, and in his eye can be seen a faint gleam. He had come this day to topple Cracker. We call Victor's human avatar and insist he come back for a rematch. At the end of the first round of play, Victor's given name proves to be well-earned.

In the middle of the second and final round, Victor Cracker unsurprisingly makes a magnificent shot, and the commentator responds with a loud "ooooh!". TW has commentators judging your every shot, delivering a large number of phrases such as "should have used the nine-iron here" or "that's straight at it, Billy". The "ooooh" was new, and two of us found it quite funny.

So, the image I present to you is of a lean, hungry man in the zone, possessed by the thought of ending a dynasty, stretched forward and focused on the TV with the steadiness of an eagle diving after its prey, flanked by two grown men who can't stop saying "ooooh! No, no, it was like 'ooooooh!'" and laughing heartily.

xboxors

Tired of "news" about runaway brides? B A Start brings you the important stuff. Looks like Gates let the news out that he's planning to ship the next version of the Xbox this year.

Now, I got the Xbox in the fall of last year. Despite the chorus of wails from the leet community, I had no issues buying the Xbox with the full knowledge of the rumors. As I made small talk with one of my brother's geek friends, he expressed deep concern about the purchase, since the next-next-gen machine was due out "next year". I patted him on the head and told him it would all be okay somehow. He'd see. There are plenty of Xbox titles out there to keep me occupied well into the career of the Xbox 360 (or whatever it ends up being named), but this line of reasoning cannot be followed by a geek. You have two choices -- retrogaming or the latest/greatest. I felt it best to let the topic slide. The black-shirt-with-white-text-wearing squirrel of a man skittered into the other room, presumably to level up his paladin.

No one to stop them this time.

I was going pen a small post asking if it was possible for there to be anything geekier than Star Wars Risk, but then I remembered Lego Star Wars: The Video Game. Good gravy. A walk through Target is like visiting the inside of a deranged Lucasarts marketing director's secretest fantasy. I thought the blitz for Episode I was bad -- I refused to believe, couldn't believe that anything could surpass Amidala shampoo. It would appear that I was incorrect. My guess is that they fear the release of Episode III to be their last chance to make a gazillion or two off or Lucas's thirty-year-old vision, despite promises of a couple TV shows in the works.

Revelations was ok

Tonight's entertainments were about going back to things I thought were good and discovering I was mistaken.

First, the movie Goldeneye -- the first Bond movie with Brosnan and the basis of my all-time favorite videogame. This should be good, right? As it turns out, 80's action movie music, unattractive Bond girls, and general cheesiness do not a good film make. I don't think a single good Bond flick has been made post-Connery.

Second, Jedi Academy. In an attempt to temporarily stave off the creeping Star Wars madness, I rented this game for the Xbox today. I loved its predecessor, so my expectations were high. Yikes. The graphics are terrible, I can't stand hearing my character say "hup" every damn time he jumps, and if I walk by one more bad guy while waving my lightsaber all around him without touching him, I refuse to be held responsible for my actions.

On an only slightly related note, I have this to look forward to. Must... keep expectations... low....

And, to wrap up, after years of sitting idly by as I watch the movies and spend disgusting numbers of hours playing the games, my wife has had to listen to the James Bond theme song more than any woman in the world.

Kentucky Fried

Albeit unwittingly, Jess has posted a picture of a chocobo.

I'm a sucker for flash games.

I am 100% fried. Not much to say for now, so go entertain yourself with this. Only entertaining with the sound on.

I'll turn this car around.

Vacation with kids appears to be something entirely different from vacation without them. For me, the big V comes rarely and is usually synonymous with "bender". There is much sitting. With little tykes to contend with, though, vacations sound like just a different flavor of obligation. The relaxing becomes arduous, the pleasant unbearable.

One big difference is the car ride. A friend of mine told me that he took his kids to Brooklyn to visit his family there, and that hooking the Playstation up to the TV screen in his SUV made the ride easy peasy. They only made one stop, if you can imagine.

Now, I'm a proponent of letting the little tykes play video games until the blisters on their fingers pop (Do the kids these days even get blisters, what with the ergonomic controllers popular these days? It's not like their puerile hands need to suffer the square controllers of the NES anymore.), but I don't know if I back the PS2 on the car ride. Learning to keep quiet for the endless hours of a car ride is an important part of the development of the American child. We all remember sitting and staring out the window, making games out of nothing and not pestering the parents. Isn't that a fond memory?