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http://classicbrian.blogspot.com/
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There Robert. I did it. NOW LEAVE ME ALONE EVERYONE. GOSH.
-Classic
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
FFFF - Final Fantasy I (The Adventure Tries Its Best To Begin)
Conor - INTRO
HERE ARE THE RULES
1. Final Fantasy's are to be beaten in a marathon setting. We start the game, and we don't stop until the game's has been defeated.
2. One of the participants (Eliot, Brian and I will be the main crew, but due to Eliot's tenure in Champaign this summer he might be subbing out for a guest for some of the events) has to be playing the game at all times. Generally one of the other two should at least be paying attention, and preferably "guiding his cock," aka telling him what he should be doing in the game. The other one can do whatever. He can even leave, so long as he comes back soon enough.
3. Guests are encouraged. We will get tired of eachother quickly. Bring food!
4. If we ever get the shit kicked out of us in a game and see the game over screen, whoever ends up receiving the majority of the blame sucks and we hate him.
I'll be updating this blog in half hour or hour installments. We're live blogging this. Because it's interesting enough to warrant that. We're also keeping stats, so we bicker amongst ourselves more accurately.
<3 Love you guys. Wish us luck. Drop on by. Final Fantasy Friends Forever.
- Conor
I. 7:03 PM, May 31 - - - Conor
Whelp, we started FF I. It turns out we're the Warriors of Light, and we need to save the king's daughter, Sarah, from this bro named Garland who kidnapped her. Boooo Garland, yaaay Warriors Of Light. That's basically the entire setup of I.
Surprisingly enough, this is going to be my first playthrough of I. I haven't actually beaten any FF before VII, so the first 3 games we're beating this summer are going to be quite educational to me. For being as obsessed as I am with the series, I sure have only played half of them.
The Warriors of Light are a colorful crew. There's Batman the Warrior, Jigger the fighting Monk, Dr. Cat the Red Mage, and finally Omar, the Black Mage. What up, Garland. Yeah, you've pissed off Batman and Omar. Reeeeally good work today Garland.
It looks like we need to go to -
Woah woah woah time out. Allen Martsch just got here and confused Batman with a chick. It's Batman, you fuck.
...
Jesus.
Anyway, we need to head north to the Temple Of Chaos (why do we have this temple), but according to the King the north bridge has been out "since long ago." He promises to rebuild the bridge if we save his daughter. Y'know. After the bridge would be really helpful. This guy wants his daughter back to a certain point.
Eliot's playing. He hasn't fucked up yet. His stats are solid. He's killed a bunch of goblins.
This is the life we live.
II. 7:51, May 31st - - - Conor
Dr. Cat's the only one still alive. We uhhhh we went into the Temple Of Chaos and there are a lot of really tough dudes in there. Tough dudes who killed everyone except Dr.Cat. We're all listening to Tom Jones' "What's New Pussycat" over and over again because of this hilarious stand up bit that Allen showed us.
So I guess so far Allen, Dr.Cat and Tom Jones are heroes right now. Woah BATMAN IS DEAD I don't want to live in this world.
III. 8:14, May 31st - - - Eliot
Did it! Defeated the boss in the first temple. Had to retreat (you do too care) once but went back and slammed that asshole and showed him what's up. Conor's playing now, and that means I can man the keys and take over (because, what, did you expect Classic to write on this blog?) the writing portion. Thus far, we've accompanied our journey with a series of YouTube standup clips. The start was slow, but it appears we're rolling now. Cool.
II. 7:51, May 31st - - - Conor
Dr. Cat's the only one still alive. We uhhhh we went into the Temple Of Chaos and there are a lot of really tough dudes in there. Tough dudes who killed everyone except Dr.Cat. We're all listening to Tom Jones' "What's New Pussycat" over and over again because of this hilarious stand up bit that Allen showed us.
So I guess so far Allen, Dr.Cat and Tom Jones are heroes right now. Woah BATMAN IS DEAD I don't want to live in this world.
III. 8:14, May 31st - - - Eliot
Did it! Defeated the boss in the first temple. Had to retreat (you do too care) once but went back and slammed that asshole and showed him what's up. Conor's playing now, and that means I can man the keys and take over (because, what, did you expect Classic to write on this blog?) the writing portion. Thus far, we've accompanied our journey with a series of YouTube standup clips. The start was slow, but it appears we're rolling now. Cool.
IV. 8:28, May 31st - - - Eliot
Conor obtained a ship. Good job.
V. 9:02, May 31st - - - Eliot
It's been a while since I've updated. That's probably because not a lot has happened. We've been using this ship, and now we're fighting shit on our ship. Dr.Cat is still a team leader, but the others have made themselves equals, statistically. Debating giving a battle axe to Batman so we can give a broadsword to Dr.Cat. I think we're doing it. This should work well. Broadswords are pretty tight. Rikki and Hillary are here by the way. We're up to three visitors (because Nick doesn't fucking count). That's about four short of a party, all. Come on down.
VI. 9:10, May 31st - - - Eliot
VII. 9:17, May 31st - - - Eliot
So, I think we should broach this subject: Ubermonster — what the unhealth?! this thing came complete with a menacing cap, that I'm still not sure as to whether it was twist off or in need of a supreme bottle opener. The cap was like, half-dollar sized if most caps are quarter sized. Classic cut his knuckle trying to pry it open with my overmatched Packers bottle opener (for the record, the Pack bottle opener eventually got the job done. It's about heart.)
Also, what in the fuck could be in this bottle? It says nonalcoholic on the label, as if I'm supposed to be disappointed, and it tastes like a regular monster, which almost worries me even more. Also, notice the Beemo shirt. I'm wearing this because we're playing video games.
Anyway, the group's failure to open that green beast pictured above (the bottle, not Beemo) coincided with the controller that wouldn't go up, and so we definitely stumbled out of the blocks. Hillary and Rikki are chortling condescendingly at every semi-nerdy remark we make (which is a lot of semi-nerdy remarks, because this is Final Fantasy we're talking about). Nick, meanwhile, is manning his position of heckling us condescendingly, but from a more enlightened viewpoint, which makes it worse and more tolerable, simultaneously.
Dr.Cat is a beast. Gosh, what the hell is the score of the Thunder game? ... 46-59 Thunder; nice. Okay, Conor should probably pass the sticks. It's been a long time. Classic has yet to get any stick time. ...
VIII. 9:42, May 31st - - - Conor
Hillary and Rikki
A) Don't get it
B) Aren't cool/pretty
C) Aren't welcome here (note from Eliot: I think they're welcome here)
D) Are exactly the problem
They represent all that is opposed to us. They are the opposition. If we don't accomplish this, it's their fault. They are the apathetic and their apathy is seeping out of them and corrupting us. I hate them.
Rikki on online walkthroughs: "Are you cheating? Isn't that cheating?"
Brian: "Yeah, so I spent all of our money."
Hillary: "On anecdotes?"
SHE MEANT ANTIDOTES AND SHE'S AN IDIOT
IX. 10:00, May 31st - - - Eliot
Brian's finally getting into things, and Conor's mom, Laurie O'Brien, LOB for short, brought us some snacks. Clutch. It's pretty clear we're all getting tired of each other.
X. 10:41, May 31st - - - Eliot
Brian died Brian died Brian died Brian died Brian died Brian died. Set us back two levels. It's ok. We were born to overcome such obstacles. Well, at least Brian and I were. Conor wasn't really, he falls asleep really easily. Brian should do some blogging now. Because this is another thing that Brian has yet to touch.
XI. 11:09, May 31st - - - Conor
Eliot's up again. We've been utilizing Jigger's name to make lots of racial slur jokes. That's something our friend group doesn't do enough. Use racial slurs. We're in the Marsh Cave. We're here because there's a crown in here that we're going to give to this dude who has a crystal that a witch wants in order to give us a herb so we can save an elven prince. We think that if we do this these dudes will help us somehow, but no one's made any promises to that effect. So.
XII. 12:01, June 1st - - - Nick
Final Fantasy I — the most boring Final Fantasy game to watch. Story is minimal. Random encounters are constant. Difficulty is high. So far most of the game has consisted of trying to make enough money to cure their constant status conditions and buy spells.
Friday Conor cares the most. Classic Brian cares the least. Tynan's here. Allen is the only one in this basement who isn't periodically assaulted with aggression.
XIII. 12:12, June 1st - - - Brian
Everyone's a critic. I died first because I was the first to attempt a hard dungeon. After hours of being harassed, here I am blogging. I played last because hey, someone has to play last. Nick has been downgraded from mean robot of the group to being denied existence. I don't think I care the least, considering I've beaten this game the most of anyone here. It's an OG classic, grind it out and fuck shit up. My kind of game. The quest continues.
XIV. 12:54, June 1st - - - Eliot
I did it. I made up for Brian's mistake. It took me several bumbling antidotal errors and more leveling up time than would be ideal, and then a get-away that was closer than it should have been, followed by an accidental waste of a 3000g item, but hey, the deed has been done. Meanwhile, everyone was talking about really interesting things and it was quite a distraction.
Now we're entering the late hours, and Conor is taking on what is more than likely his final go-round of the night. Truthfully, I had little sleep and a nap today, so I don't know how I'll perform for the rest of the night either.
Also, it's Jenn and I's five-month anniversary. Take that, Julia's birthday.
XV. 1:48, June 1st - - - Eliot
Suddenly, an hour has passed. Tynan has left and eyelids have started to droop, which sucks, because it's not yet two, and we still have to beat this damn game. Conor's still playing, and looking around for what to discover with the Mystic Key. The Mystic Key is a rude thing, because from the beginning of the game, you have to pass up several treasure chests because you don't have the key. But you only don't have the key for like, four hours, and the treasures you're passing up are like, decent. So now we're going to bolster our mid-level party, and within a few hours all these treasures will again be worthless.
We are back to bumping stand-up, because there's less people around. And I'm listening, more so than I'm writing this. Isn't it Brian's turn? It's Brian turn.
XVI. 2:06, June 1st - - - Brian
Shut up, cunt.
XVII. 3:42, June 1st - - - Conor
Batman just got owned. 5 Ghouls and 1 Wight popped out of no where as Brian was running back to a town for safety and supplies. Before he could do anything they paralyzed Batman, the only surviving member of the squad. For 3 and a half minutes Batman was subjected to things that can only be described as cruel and unusual. He never had a chance. We have experienced our first game over.
Excluding the game over that occurred 3 minutes after we started the game, that was mainly caused by the controller's up button not working. We're all choosing to ignore that.
XVIII. 3:49, June 1st - - - Conor
In other news, my tummy really really hurts. I'm going to talk about the physical and emotional tolls of a life like this. I ran 4 and half miles earlier today, hoping that would excuse what I was planning on doing to my body tonight, but no way can I make up for what's happening to me. I'm looking around the room, and we've finished off a thing of cookies, a thing of oreos, I had China Wok for dinner, so I'm fucked already, I've had 2 glasses of chocolate milk, a monster, and 2 bottles of propel. I feel shitty because my body's trying to inform me that If I keep up the good work I will die by 6 AM. I'm going to try to do some push ups and sit ups but seriously. My bikini bod's done for.
Morale is low. Brian was holding the controller during Batman's rape and I think a part of him died with Batman's innocence. Eliot's alternatively bringing morale up and killing it. I'm entering the Danger/Sleepy Zone for which I'm known. I don't know if we're on track to finish this game by the time we all need to do stuff tomorrow. I've voiced this concern, and Brian and Eliot brushed it off. Allen's just sitting there working on his journal. Pretty impressed that he's still here. He stopped me from picking at my feet, saying "I'd hurt myself." Thaaanks MomDad. What would I do without you.
Dr. Cat is still the leader of the pack. I'm really satisfied with his name. Whenever there are lots of enemies on screen and we're feeling impatient we whip out one of Omar the Black Mage's high level spells, and chant "Omar's comin'." Batman's been killed/sexually taken by a group of ghost enemies one too many times for him to have earned the name, but he's still pretty cool. Jigga's doing well for himself as well.
XIX. 5:26, June 1st - - - Brian
Man, fuck this Bulls-Eye Ball game. I'm so not good at it and I so want to be good at it. I think my fingers are too big or something, because I seem to struggle much more than anyone else at the relatively simple task of picking up the ball in between shots. God dammit. Booooooooooooooo. Not even the stupid sound effects it make can stop me from conquering this...at some point. I will be victorious. I use the term victory very loosely here.
XX. 5:51, June 1st - - - Eliot
Tensions are running hilariously high here in burrsville. I've just let go of the controls for the first time in what felt like at least two hours. And I am swiftly becoming the third wheel in this night, based off earlier spats with Brian over our aptitude to confrontation with one another, and (post-4 a.m.) Conor's recent taken offense at my not fleeing a battle per his request.
Several times tonight, Conor has made fleeting, worthless remarks that serve no other purpose than to try and make me regret saying what I've just said. Brian and I are just getting frustrated over how easy it is for our views to clash. I certainly have not helped things, but tonight I am the one getting ganged up on.
All of this is encouraging, because it exhibits how we're in it for the long haul. The mere fact that we're all up at this late hour is proof enough that we're all excited to get to do this. Conor's complaints are based in me squandering seconds, staying in fights that are high risk (of annoyance) versus meager reward. And Brian and I, well, we're used to petty fights. They absolve pretty quickly. He knows I love him (and vice versa, buddy, don't you try and hide from me). In fact, they might be annoyed by this update, but whatever.
The reason I come to FFFF-sessions is for the drama, you guys.
Can we get this done? Yeah, but will we? Probably not. We tend to fail, and we've got a teammate with a girlfriend with a birthday. But is it because I didn't flee from the Wights and Ghasts? Of course not, and Conor knows that, he just thought I was being a prick. Well Conor, I wouldn't say "fuck you" to express disagreement with your game-playing tactics. I would, however, air my grievances in a blog, so I guess we're even.
It's been too long.
XXI. 1:52 p.m., June 1st - - - Eliot
As I am roused from what has been my second siesta of the event, the scene is much different. With Conor, Brian and I each having pulled off two-hour shifts while the other two slept, we are a highly functional team; a unit aptly living up to its very specific, semi-honorable task. We have the last dungeon staring us in the face, lunch on the docket, a strong team to do battle with, and time to spare. Final Fantasy I is a short game. It's a tedious, easy foe. The story is sparse, but what can you expect from such an enterprising 1987 title?
The tension mentioned in the previous post has all but utterly subsided. In fact, it did so mere minutes after that post went up. While there has been very little contact with humans for the past eight hours, there has been some excellent gaming. Allen awoke around nine and left. It is just three, and that appears to be how this game will be finished. Omar, Batman, Dr.Cat, and Jigger are no longer the mere black mage, warrior, red mage, and monk they used to be, but are now a fully developed team boasting a black wizard, knight, red wizard, and ninja. We no longer have our boat to get around, but an airship.
The final stretch of this Final Fantasy has been fairly light, and while we enter and go through the last dungeon, it is not stress that possesses us, but appreciation. And if you're Conor, the task of going to Head West to get us some subs. The game clock is at 16:42 (which excludes the couple of game overs we had and the time spent going back after soft resets), and Final Fantasy is on the ropes. Now let's see if Conor and I can't get mad at Brian before this dungeon — and this game — is all said and done.
XXII. 3:06 p.m., June 1st - - - Conor
Oh my god we're going to do it. Wow wow wow wow. Didn't think we were going to pull this off. Like Eliot said, the night was good to us and the tension dissolved as we got into our machine efficient nap rotation. Waking up from my nap to see that Dr. Cat got his PhD in being a wizard was awesome, and Jigga has fucking stepped up, man. Batman's maintained, and Omar, uhhhh, Omar's never been that useful but we're too entertained with "Omar's comin'" to really care. Dr. Cat's average, too, but his name's Dr. Cat. Seriously, my enjoyment of his name hasn't waned at all the past 20 hours.
20 hours, shit.
My tummy still hurts.
XXIII. 3:11 p.m., June 1st - - - Us, now
Final Fantasy I — the most boring Final Fantasy game to watch. Story is minimal. Random encounters are constant. Difficulty is high. So far most of the game has consisted of trying to make enough money to cure their constant status conditions and buy spells.
Friday Conor cares the most. Classic Brian cares the least. Tynan's here. Allen is the only one in this basement who isn't periodically assaulted with aggression.
XIII. 12:12, June 1st - - - Brian
Everyone's a critic. I died first because I was the first to attempt a hard dungeon. After hours of being harassed, here I am blogging. I played last because hey, someone has to play last. Nick has been downgraded from mean robot of the group to being denied existence. I don't think I care the least, considering I've beaten this game the most of anyone here. It's an OG classic, grind it out and fuck shit up. My kind of game. The quest continues.
XIV. 12:54, June 1st - - - Eliot
I did it. I made up for Brian's mistake. It took me several bumbling antidotal errors and more leveling up time than would be ideal, and then a get-away that was closer than it should have been, followed by an accidental waste of a 3000g item, but hey, the deed has been done. Meanwhile, everyone was talking about really interesting things and it was quite a distraction.
Now we're entering the late hours, and Conor is taking on what is more than likely his final go-round of the night. Truthfully, I had little sleep and a nap today, so I don't know how I'll perform for the rest of the night either.
Also, it's Jenn and I's five-month anniversary. Take that, Julia's birthday.
XV. 1:48, June 1st - - - Eliot
Suddenly, an hour has passed. Tynan has left and eyelids have started to droop, which sucks, because it's not yet two, and we still have to beat this damn game. Conor's still playing, and looking around for what to discover with the Mystic Key. The Mystic Key is a rude thing, because from the beginning of the game, you have to pass up several treasure chests because you don't have the key. But you only don't have the key for like, four hours, and the treasures you're passing up are like, decent. So now we're going to bolster our mid-level party, and within a few hours all these treasures will again be worthless.
We are back to bumping stand-up, because there's less people around. And I'm listening, more so than I'm writing this. Isn't it Brian's turn? It's Brian turn.
XVI. 2:06, June 1st - - - Brian
Shut up, cunt.
XVII. 3:42, June 1st - - - Conor
Batman just got owned. 5 Ghouls and 1 Wight popped out of no where as Brian was running back to a town for safety and supplies. Before he could do anything they paralyzed Batman, the only surviving member of the squad. For 3 and a half minutes Batman was subjected to things that can only be described as cruel and unusual. He never had a chance. We have experienced our first game over.
Excluding the game over that occurred 3 minutes after we started the game, that was mainly caused by the controller's up button not working. We're all choosing to ignore that.
XVIII. 3:49, June 1st - - - Conor
In other news, my tummy really really hurts. I'm going to talk about the physical and emotional tolls of a life like this. I ran 4 and half miles earlier today, hoping that would excuse what I was planning on doing to my body tonight, but no way can I make up for what's happening to me. I'm looking around the room, and we've finished off a thing of cookies, a thing of oreos, I had China Wok for dinner, so I'm fucked already, I've had 2 glasses of chocolate milk, a monster, and 2 bottles of propel. I feel shitty because my body's trying to inform me that If I keep up the good work I will die by 6 AM. I'm going to try to do some push ups and sit ups but seriously. My bikini bod's done for.
Morale is low. Brian was holding the controller during Batman's rape and I think a part of him died with Batman's innocence. Eliot's alternatively bringing morale up and killing it. I'm entering the Danger/Sleepy Zone for which I'm known. I don't know if we're on track to finish this game by the time we all need to do stuff tomorrow. I've voiced this concern, and Brian and Eliot brushed it off. Allen's just sitting there working on his journal. Pretty impressed that he's still here. He stopped me from picking at my feet, saying "I'd hurt myself." Thaaanks MomDad. What would I do without you.
Dr. Cat is still the leader of the pack. I'm really satisfied with his name. Whenever there are lots of enemies on screen and we're feeling impatient we whip out one of Omar the Black Mage's high level spells, and chant "Omar's comin'." Batman's been killed/sexually taken by a group of ghost enemies one too many times for him to have earned the name, but he's still pretty cool. Jigga's doing well for himself as well.
XIX. 5:26, June 1st - - - Brian
Man, fuck this Bulls-Eye Ball game. I'm so not good at it and I so want to be good at it. I think my fingers are too big or something, because I seem to struggle much more than anyone else at the relatively simple task of picking up the ball in between shots. God dammit. Booooooooooooooo. Not even the stupid sound effects it make can stop me from conquering this...at some point. I will be victorious. I use the term victory very loosely here.
XX. 5:51, June 1st - - - Eliot
Tensions are running hilariously high here in burrsville. I've just let go of the controls for the first time in what felt like at least two hours. And I am swiftly becoming the third wheel in this night, based off earlier spats with Brian over our aptitude to confrontation with one another, and (post-4 a.m.) Conor's recent taken offense at my not fleeing a battle per his request.
Several times tonight, Conor has made fleeting, worthless remarks that serve no other purpose than to try and make me regret saying what I've just said. Brian and I are just getting frustrated over how easy it is for our views to clash. I certainly have not helped things, but tonight I am the one getting ganged up on.
All of this is encouraging, because it exhibits how we're in it for the long haul. The mere fact that we're all up at this late hour is proof enough that we're all excited to get to do this. Conor's complaints are based in me squandering seconds, staying in fights that are high risk (of annoyance) versus meager reward. And Brian and I, well, we're used to petty fights. They absolve pretty quickly. He knows I love him (and vice versa, buddy, don't you try and hide from me). In fact, they might be annoyed by this update, but whatever.
The reason I come to FFFF-sessions is for the drama, you guys.
Can we get this done? Yeah, but will we? Probably not. We tend to fail, and we've got a teammate with a girlfriend with a birthday. But is it because I didn't flee from the Wights and Ghasts? Of course not, and Conor knows that, he just thought I was being a prick. Well Conor, I wouldn't say "fuck you" to express disagreement with your game-playing tactics. I would, however, air my grievances in a blog, so I guess we're even.
It's been too long.
XXI. 1:52 p.m., June 1st - - - Eliot
As I am roused from what has been my second siesta of the event, the scene is much different. With Conor, Brian and I each having pulled off two-hour shifts while the other two slept, we are a highly functional team; a unit aptly living up to its very specific, semi-honorable task. We have the last dungeon staring us in the face, lunch on the docket, a strong team to do battle with, and time to spare. Final Fantasy I is a short game. It's a tedious, easy foe. The story is sparse, but what can you expect from such an enterprising 1987 title?
The tension mentioned in the previous post has all but utterly subsided. In fact, it did so mere minutes after that post went up. While there has been very little contact with humans for the past eight hours, there has been some excellent gaming. Allen awoke around nine and left. It is just three, and that appears to be how this game will be finished. Omar, Batman, Dr.Cat, and Jigger are no longer the mere black mage, warrior, red mage, and monk they used to be, but are now a fully developed team boasting a black wizard, knight, red wizard, and ninja. We no longer have our boat to get around, but an airship.
The final stretch of this Final Fantasy has been fairly light, and while we enter and go through the last dungeon, it is not stress that possesses us, but appreciation. And if you're Conor, the task of going to Head West to get us some subs. The game clock is at 16:42 (which excludes the couple of game overs we had and the time spent going back after soft resets), and Final Fantasy is on the ropes. Now let's see if Conor and I can't get mad at Brian before this dungeon — and this game — is all said and done.
XXII. 3:06 p.m., June 1st - - - Conor
Oh my god we're going to do it. Wow wow wow wow. Didn't think we were going to pull this off. Like Eliot said, the night was good to us and the tension dissolved as we got into our machine efficient nap rotation. Waking up from my nap to see that Dr. Cat got his PhD in being a wizard was awesome, and Jigga has fucking stepped up, man. Batman's maintained, and Omar, uhhhh, Omar's never been that useful but we're too entertained with "Omar's comin'" to really care. Dr. Cat's average, too, but his name's Dr. Cat. Seriously, my enjoyment of his name hasn't waned at all the past 20 hours.
20 hours, shit.
My tummy still hurts.
XXIII. 3:11 p.m., June 1st - - - Us, now
XXIV. 5:04 p.m., June 1st - - - Eliot
Well, that was a grind-it-out finish if I ever saw one. And I watch a lot of sports, so I've seen a lot of grind-it-out finishes. I waded through levels of dungeondom to get to the final boss, only to get beat down. So I handed it to Conor, who whomped that Garland fool (yeah, I guess he was the bad guy). Conor made it through the final boss with three of our characters surviving, the deceased one being his beloved Dr.Cat. Immediately following his death, Classic and I decided that Dr.Cat's death is permanent; meaning the name can't be used in our future marathons this summer. So if you die in the final boss fight, Dr.Cat, you die for real.
The conclusion was followed by a telling of the entire story we just played out, as if the game designers were like, letting you know what you just did, because the game itself doesn't really provide much riveting plot depth.
No worries though, it's something to build off, Square.
So we're all just kind of sitting here, done. Brian's practicing Bulls-Eye Ball and I'm blogging. I feel like we could be worse for wear. Also I will never take a Phoenix Down for granted again. Final Fantasy I: VANQUISHED. That was fun.
XXV. 5:14 p.m., June 1st - - - Conor
Dr. Cat
7:00 PM May 31st, 2012 - 5:00 PM June 1st, 2012
22 Hours Of Glory
R.I.P.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Salad Bowl
Since I was old enough to blink, we've had the same salad bowl in our family. It's a wooden bowl with the inch-wide top of the rim painted red, the rest a burnt orange, with a design on the inside with black, red, yellow and outlined (clear) figures walking in a circle with instruments, animals walking along too, perhaps with a maraca in mouth, dancing jovially with musical notes emanating from their mouths — singing.
It's a joyful display, and one that I didn't really notice until the summer before I left for college, when I was trying to take in every element of my house before I left it for the first time. It was a staple of our family dinners for the duration of my youth.
It's only now, in this era where everyone is thinking about salad more than they ever had before, where I realize why this display is what's found on a salad bowl. Because America is a salad. The world is a salad. America is both part of and its own salad. The people I have met, the friends I have made, the influences I have surrounded myself. It is all a salad. A salad is what lives within the environment. The salad bowl is that environment. The earth is our salad bowl. It is designed — as my salad bowl at home is — for us to interact, merrily, and to indulge in its finer provisions: music, laughter, joy, friendship and pets.
We've realized lately, like I have, that our salad bowl is important. The green movement, which is something we often associate with salads, is going to take an effort from all parties, all parts of the salad, to maintain. We need to realize that salads are good, not just decent. You can dress them, add meat to them, do whatever it takes, but you do it so that you can eat a salad. Because you need to feel that buzz you get from pitching in, because when you eat that salad, you help yourself, you feel like your helping the world, and you know you're making plants feel better about themselves.
Don't forget the salad bowl. For within it, lies all of us.
--Eliot Sill
It's a joyful display, and one that I didn't really notice until the summer before I left for college, when I was trying to take in every element of my house before I left it for the first time. It was a staple of our family dinners for the duration of my youth.
It's only now, in this era where everyone is thinking about salad more than they ever had before, where I realize why this display is what's found on a salad bowl. Because America is a salad. The world is a salad. America is both part of and its own salad. The people I have met, the friends I have made, the influences I have surrounded myself. It is all a salad. A salad is what lives within the environment. The salad bowl is that environment. The earth is our salad bowl. It is designed — as my salad bowl at home is — for us to interact, merrily, and to indulge in its finer provisions: music, laughter, joy, friendship and pets.
We've realized lately, like I have, that our salad bowl is important. The green movement, which is something we often associate with salads, is going to take an effort from all parties, all parts of the salad, to maintain. We need to realize that salads are good, not just decent. You can dress them, add meat to them, do whatever it takes, but you do it so that you can eat a salad. Because you need to feel that buzz you get from pitching in, because when you eat that salad, you help yourself, you feel like your helping the world, and you know you're making plants feel better about themselves.
Don't forget the salad bowl. For within it, lies all of us.
--Eliot Sill
Salad Art
Part I- Introduction /
Important Facts
I like salad. A lot. A controversial statement for this blog, it seems. Do I love salad?
Perhaps...
If you know anything about me, you know that I am a vegetarian.
You are probably thinking that this fact makes me biased in regards to salad.
Maybe you are even thinking that a favorite pastime of mine must be eating a
nice bowl of leaves, a few varieties of vegetables, and certainly no
dressing. You are imagining me committing to salad each and every day
for the rest of my life when I decided to omit meat from my diet three years
ago.
MYTH: vegetarians/vegans only eat salad.
DID YOU KNOW: We also consume fruits, noodles, rice, and various
other sources of protein as well as processed foods (unless you are this cool)!
I like to eat noodles and rice and cooked vegetables. I love to eat noodles and rice and cooked
vegetables. My diet is primarily Asian and I am forever addicted to Thai food.
Even though Asian dishes are fun to make, they require cooking
and stoves, thus, more effort.
Part II- I Am Salad Art
(And So Can You!)
Baking and
cooking can totally be forms of artistic expression, yet salads are easier to prepare and
healthier. I think that’s pretty cool! I grew up eating a salad with every
dinner time meal, and it wasn’t until this year I discovered what I shall refer
to as salad art.
I got into said salad art when
I went serious grocery shopping for myself for the first time last fall. I was
overwhelmed by the variety of leaves. Seriously. It’s probably like choosing
between chicken, steak, and (??) for an omnivore dining at that restaurant
called Chipotle Mexican Grill (I think???). Anyway. Spring greens? Kale? Spinach?
Herbs? Arugula? Lettuce? I went insane.
The next step in the process of salad art can only be taken on once you have decided upon a bed of
leaves in which to hold the future components of the salad. It is even pretty
cool to mix different varieties of leaves. These next components are totally about
aesthetic and involve the greatest amount of effort. I'm talking about vegetables, of course. Slicin’ up eyeballs vegetables is oddly
satisfying, plus they often look awesome on the inside and you can use any technique you like. Infinite slicing possibilities! Splashes of various colors in a sea of green!
If leafy greens and various, chopped vegetables are the essentials of salad art, you will probably want to add unique touches to your salad. This is inclusive of things such as fruit, nuts, cheese, and some sort of odd liquid known as salad dressing. This is where you can go wild, or be modest. Explore the boundaries of salad itself, or stick to family or cultural traditions.
When you feel content with your salad creation, you can eat it all yourself, share it with friends, feed the homeless or possibly an animal. Just think about it, salad art can save lives and provide energy- all while you were given the opportunity to express yourself.
WOAH.
 |
| salad art featuring kale, carrots, a variety of cheese I have forgotten, and delicious gingery dressing, circa January 2012 (made for myself) |
 | |
| not salad art / I just really wanted to post this one |
-Caitlin
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Nick - A Componential Analysis Of Salads
Tomatoes
3/10
Lacking the firmness of most vegetables and lacking the tastiness of most fruits, tomatoes are nature's bastard child. What's even the draw to eating them? I don't know why I'd ever partake in one.
Lettuce
8/10
Lettuce is crunchy and refreshing, like rock climbing through a mountain waterfall. It's kind of tasteless though. Not that I mind.
Dressing
1/10
I can't eat this. This stuff is gross. It has, like, vinegar in it? What's that all about? I mean, it just tastes bad. Also it's bad for you. I don't understand you people.
Croutons
10/10
Salads are a facade. Salads are a thinly veiled attempt to eat croutons as a meal. Croutons have a salty, flavorful crunch that reminds me of ambrosia, or of lightning made of happiness.
Carrots
6/10
I like carrots. Carrots are good. When you put carrots on salads, you slice them up into tiny, tasteless pieces. But we all know why they're really there: to make it colorful. If you can add some orange in there with your greens and purples, it looks pretty. It looks way too pretty to be food. I'm awarding points for prettiness and because carrots and I go way back, but let's not lose sight of the practicality here.
Sunflower Seeds
9/10
Big fan. Sunflower seeds are so fucking delicious. They come in two varieties: the seasoned and unseasoned kind. Both are delicious in their own right. Way better than those stupid ones you buy in bags and you have to spit out the shells so often that it's not even worth it. I'm docking one point because they are small and they usually slip through my salad to the bottom.
Purple Things
4/10
I don't really know what these are, but they don't taste like too much of anything? They're pretty because they are purple, but also they just aren't very good.
Olives
1/10
Nope, not having it. Olives are not tasty. Their texture is gross. Eating olives is like eating eyeballs, except that they lack the protein.
Salads
4/10
-Nick.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
A Philosophical Crisis on the Subject of Salads
robert langellier
Oh my god, what is a salad?
Language is here to signify things, right? And so a word represents a thing, a thing or a concept or some thought that can be visualized in your mind. And so what is a salad? It's so flexible. That word can go so many places. Like, like, what constitutes it? What universal boundaries does a salad abide by, do you know what I'm saying? What are the edges of a salad, what are its basic requirements? I know there are leaves involved, leaves man, leaves are involved in fucking a lot of things. Maybe a tree is a salad. Okay, salads also have other edible things in them. I would say that's in the definition, maybe requirements are a) must have leaves and b) must have not leaves. Except trees bear fruit, man, so is a tree a salad? There's no fucking requirement for what "not leaves" is. Conor puts raisins in his salads raisins raisins. That pretty much kicks down the door for anything, there go the floodgates, I think. Maybe I'll put headphones in my salad. I'll have my salad with some flags in it, thank you very much. Put a full grown tree in my salad, put a salad in my salad, if that doesn't tear a hole in whatever dimension salads live in, and yeah then put that interdimensional hole in my salad thanks. I'm so worried about salads, because what does that do to language? What does that mean for communication, what does it say about all of our words, do you hear? Am I coming through to you do these words even mean anything DO MY WORDS MEAN THE SAME THING TO ME AS THEY DO TO YOU what is my message that I'm sending if you tell it back to me correctly, what's to say that those words that sound accurate and correct in my head don't mean something totally different in your universe in your head LIKE I'M SAYING WHAT IF THE COLOR GREEN FOR ME IS YELLOW FOR YOU? What about salad dressing, salad dressing? What are the boundaries of dressing? That it needs to be liquid? It can be white and goopy or just this red thin runny watery vinagre or basically anything, so it just needs to be liquid. Well water, water falls from the sky and really gets all over the lettuce in the trees, so the trees, the trees are definitely salads. I have two tall salads in my backyard. I'm surprised nobody's eaten them, they've been sitting there for a half a century. I guess you could say that salads are supposed to be edible, but man I remember some salads that have been just... I mean, there are people who put raisins in their salads. So I don't know what to think, man, can you really just say salads are intangible undefinable ineffable but very real, like I know it when I see it, like salads are some kind of threshold test for court case pornography? I don't think so, no, no, I don't buy into that game. I've become skeptical as to the existence of salads. I see piles of fruit and leaves, I see piles of meat and leaves, I see piles of raisins and leaves, which okay I guess that goes in the former category, I see piles of bread and peanuts and leaves, I see maple trees, I don't see salads. No, No, I refuse to let the foundations of my language, of my universe, to come crashing down on account of a salad. On account of a nothing, a thing that doesn't exist. So yes, I will have a pile of fruit and leaves. And put some liquid on it. I want it to taste good. Or, or, I guess, to taste alright. I'm on a diet, actually.
Oh my god, what is a salad?
Language is here to signify things, right? And so a word represents a thing, a thing or a concept or some thought that can be visualized in your mind. And so what is a salad? It's so flexible. That word can go so many places. Like, like, what constitutes it? What universal boundaries does a salad abide by, do you know what I'm saying? What are the edges of a salad, what are its basic requirements? I know there are leaves involved, leaves man, leaves are involved in fucking a lot of things. Maybe a tree is a salad. Okay, salads also have other edible things in them. I would say that's in the definition, maybe requirements are a) must have leaves and b) must have not leaves. Except trees bear fruit, man, so is a tree a salad? There's no fucking requirement for what "not leaves" is. Conor puts raisins in his salads raisins raisins. That pretty much kicks down the door for anything, there go the floodgates, I think. Maybe I'll put headphones in my salad. I'll have my salad with some flags in it, thank you very much. Put a full grown tree in my salad, put a salad in my salad, if that doesn't tear a hole in whatever dimension salads live in, and yeah then put that interdimensional hole in my salad thanks. I'm so worried about salads, because what does that do to language? What does that mean for communication, what does it say about all of our words, do you hear? Am I coming through to you do these words even mean anything DO MY WORDS MEAN THE SAME THING TO ME AS THEY DO TO YOU what is my message that I'm sending if you tell it back to me correctly, what's to say that those words that sound accurate and correct in my head don't mean something totally different in your universe in your head LIKE I'M SAYING WHAT IF THE COLOR GREEN FOR ME IS YELLOW FOR YOU? What about salad dressing, salad dressing? What are the boundaries of dressing? That it needs to be liquid? It can be white and goopy or just this red thin runny watery vinagre or basically anything, so it just needs to be liquid. Well water, water falls from the sky and really gets all over the lettuce in the trees, so the trees, the trees are definitely salads. I have two tall salads in my backyard. I'm surprised nobody's eaten them, they've been sitting there for a half a century. I guess you could say that salads are supposed to be edible, but man I remember some salads that have been just... I mean, there are people who put raisins in their salads. So I don't know what to think, man, can you really just say salads are intangible undefinable ineffable but very real, like I know it when I see it, like salads are some kind of threshold test for court case pornography? I don't think so, no, no, I don't buy into that game. I've become skeptical as to the existence of salads. I see piles of fruit and leaves, I see piles of meat and leaves, I see piles of raisins and leaves, which okay I guess that goes in the former category, I see piles of bread and peanuts and leaves, I see maple trees, I don't see salads. No, No, I refuse to let the foundations of my language, of my universe, to come crashing down on account of a salad. On account of a nothing, a thing that doesn't exist. So yes, I will have a pile of fruit and leaves. And put some liquid on it. I want it to taste good. Or, or, I guess, to taste alright. I'm on a diet, actually.
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