I know it's kind of late, but...
Thanks.
Friday, November 28, 2003
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Will you love your PS2 when it's old and grey?
( Wow, it's been a long time since my last post. Ok, so maybe during crunch time I should call it the Not-so-Quotidian. Eep. Alright, I'm going to try and keep these posts generally short and to the point so that I will feel inclined to write more often. )
One of the assumptions I've always had was that it was better to publish a console game title toward the end of the console's lifespan. My line of reasoning is that, by the end of the lifespan of a console, there is, ideally, a large installed base of users. More users = more potential sales. Whammo.
However, I was reading an article today in Gamespot and it quoted an analyst as saying that the console game market is going to take a general downturn because of market saturation. Now, does he mean to say that there will be just too many choices on the shelves? Because, if so, it would seem to me that the market would simply become much more competitive, and the smaller titles would suffer because they wouldn't stand out from the crowd. I can't seem to think of many reasons why people would stop buying games for their consoles:
- Anticipation of/saving up money for the next generation of consoles
- Already have all the games they want/need
- Computers have outpaced game consoles technologically (although this would have minimal impact, given the relatively small game user base in the PC market)
- Too many choices, can't choose... aaaah! *runs out of EB*
- Sick of console/Been burned by saturation of weak titles?
Hm. I'm not sure. Those don't seem like really compelling reasons for the market to slow down. At least, not when compared with a still-increasing user base. Of course, the rate of increase of the user base will decline, but we all know console sales aren't really where the console makers make their money.
Does anyone know how console licensing works? What kind of fees does a console maker normally charge to publish for its system, if any?
( Wow, it's been a long time since my last post. Ok, so maybe during crunch time I should call it the Not-so-Quotidian. Eep. Alright, I'm going to try and keep these posts generally short and to the point so that I will feel inclined to write more often. )
One of the assumptions I've always had was that it was better to publish a console game title toward the end of the console's lifespan. My line of reasoning is that, by the end of the lifespan of a console, there is, ideally, a large installed base of users. More users = more potential sales. Whammo.
However, I was reading an article today in Gamespot and it quoted an analyst as saying that the console game market is going to take a general downturn because of market saturation. Now, does he mean to say that there will be just too many choices on the shelves? Because, if so, it would seem to me that the market would simply become much more competitive, and the smaller titles would suffer because they wouldn't stand out from the crowd. I can't seem to think of many reasons why people would stop buying games for their consoles:
- Anticipation of/saving up money for the next generation of consoles
- Already have all the games they want/need
- Computers have outpaced game consoles technologically (although this would have minimal impact, given the relatively small game user base in the PC market)
- Too many choices, can't choose... aaaah! *runs out of EB*
- Sick of console/Been burned by saturation of weak titles?
Hm. I'm not sure. Those don't seem like really compelling reasons for the market to slow down. At least, not when compared with a still-increasing user base. Of course, the rate of increase of the user base will decline, but we all know console sales aren't really where the console makers make their money.
Does anyone know how console licensing works? What kind of fees does a console maker normally charge to publish for its system, if any?
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Damn it damn it damn it.
I had written a big thing on Matrix Revolutions and freakin blog app timed out... and didn't save the text that I'd written already. Ah well, live and learn.
Summary of the Lost Blog:
Sic Transit Matrix
The last movie was good, not better than the first, but waaaaay better than the second. Go see it and you will probably have a good time. Be ready to have some questions not get answered. Don't worry, because this is a good thing. Think about it this way... would you rather George Lucas had just left the Force a mystery... or do you prefer midi-chlorians?
I had written a big thing on Matrix Revolutions and freakin blog app timed out... and didn't save the text that I'd written already. Ah well, live and learn.
Summary of the Lost Blog:
Sic Transit Matrix
The last movie was good, not better than the first, but waaaaay better than the second. Go see it and you will probably have a good time. Be ready to have some questions not get answered. Don't worry, because this is a good thing. Think about it this way... would you rather George Lucas had just left the Force a mystery... or do you prefer midi-chlorians?
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Life.
I am doomed to die.
The law of averages tells me: chances are that what I've got of my life will be lived out in a state of mediocrity. That I will spend my time not doing the best that any one person can do nor the worst that could possibly be expected. Not even anywhere near these two extremes. History and statistics predict that the sum total of my efforts will fall as a drop of rain into the ocean, having added to the sum total of what is, for all intents and purposes, infinity. And having done so at the verge of anonymity.
To paraphrase Milton:
How soon hath time, that subtle thief of youth, stolen upon its wing my six and twentieth year.
It seems ridiculous that, even at this relatively youthful age, the burden of time weighs heavily upon me. Or is it the crush of expectancy? The hurried rush we feel when we realized that we are timed... and that time will eventually run out?
Perhaps it would be easier to believe in an afterlife. To believe in a God that will provide for me another life given a bare minimum of good behavior in this one. To believe that I do, indeed, have more time than this and that it does, indeed, get better. It is tempting, but something in me cannot, will not be lulled into this. Something tells me that such a belief would only serve as an excuse for every missed opportunity, every unspoken word, every fucking moment that I should have or could have been being something to someone, doing something or doing something better.
Man, I would love to believe it, but I can't. Because it's a lie. It's a good lie that makes a lot of people feel better, and that makes me happy for them, but it doesn't work on me. My heart knows that as much as I'd like to believe it's true, shit just ain't like that.
This is it. One life to live. I'm not coming back and I'm not going anywhere else. This is my one shot at existence, period.
So, what to do? I want to make other people's lives as happy as I possibly can and leave a positive impression on our civilization, but the aforementioned mediocrity effect says that I probably won't do that in any significant way. Probably. That means that there is a chance. Because it's not all random, right? 20%-80% random/struggle? The other way around? I'm sure it's different for everybody. But for sure, there's some work/fight/struggle effect in there.
When you step back and look at it a certain way, it's kind of pitiful... all of us little people struggling in our tiny existences to make something for ourselves and the ones we love. But if you really, really look at it, it's kind of the beauty of life... it's what makes it interesting. They say the Devil is in the details, but I'm sure that, if he exists, God is there, too. Human existence... all existence... Tons of microstruggles having myriad macro effects that are ultimately insignificant because eventually, at a certain level, everything stops becoming significant, right? It's like abstracting a face until the canvas becomes a solid color. Perhaps the only things that really, really matter are our microstruggles. Hm.
The Buddhists are so, so wrong.
I am doomed to die.
The law of averages tells me: chances are that what I've got of my life will be lived out in a state of mediocrity. That I will spend my time not doing the best that any one person can do nor the worst that could possibly be expected. Not even anywhere near these two extremes. History and statistics predict that the sum total of my efforts will fall as a drop of rain into the ocean, having added to the sum total of what is, for all intents and purposes, infinity. And having done so at the verge of anonymity.
To paraphrase Milton:
How soon hath time, that subtle thief of youth, stolen upon its wing my six and twentieth year.
It seems ridiculous that, even at this relatively youthful age, the burden of time weighs heavily upon me. Or is it the crush of expectancy? The hurried rush we feel when we realized that we are timed... and that time will eventually run out?
Perhaps it would be easier to believe in an afterlife. To believe in a God that will provide for me another life given a bare minimum of good behavior in this one. To believe that I do, indeed, have more time than this and that it does, indeed, get better. It is tempting, but something in me cannot, will not be lulled into this. Something tells me that such a belief would only serve as an excuse for every missed opportunity, every unspoken word, every fucking moment that I should have or could have been being something to someone, doing something or doing something better.
Man, I would love to believe it, but I can't. Because it's a lie. It's a good lie that makes a lot of people feel better, and that makes me happy for them, but it doesn't work on me. My heart knows that as much as I'd like to believe it's true, shit just ain't like that.
This is it. One life to live. I'm not coming back and I'm not going anywhere else. This is my one shot at existence, period.
So, what to do? I want to make other people's lives as happy as I possibly can and leave a positive impression on our civilization, but the aforementioned mediocrity effect says that I probably won't do that in any significant way. Probably. That means that there is a chance. Because it's not all random, right? 20%-80% random/struggle? The other way around? I'm sure it's different for everybody. But for sure, there's some work/fight/struggle effect in there.
When you step back and look at it a certain way, it's kind of pitiful... all of us little people struggling in our tiny existences to make something for ourselves and the ones we love. But if you really, really look at it, it's kind of the beauty of life... it's what makes it interesting. They say the Devil is in the details, but I'm sure that, if he exists, God is there, too. Human existence... all existence... Tons of microstruggles having myriad macro effects that are ultimately insignificant because eventually, at a certain level, everything stops becoming significant, right? It's like abstracting a face until the canvas becomes a solid color. Perhaps the only things that really, really matter are our microstruggles. Hm.
The Buddhists are so, so wrong.
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