Kara and I hit 60 last night in WOW. It feels real good. I also had my first encounter with a real GM last night. Over the weekend I met quite a few Blizzard employees at Comic Con. Apparently reading PA is some kind of pre-requisite for a job there. Anyway I chatted for a while with a couple GM’s who explained to me that the majority of their work involves the restoration of items. I remember distinctly cracking a couple jokes about how stupid a person would need to be in order to not only sell off some rare item but also not notice in time to buy it back from the vendor. Fast forward to last night.

It's unfortunate that in order to defend videogames, it usually means you're defending Rockstar specifically.

...which is almost everyone, apparently. We talked with people about their characters for almost four days solid. "Gabe" drew quite a few characters as sketches.

I was stacking cash until that vile human larva ratted me out. And I had plans for that shit, too. I was going to have Smashmouth play at my birthday. On the moon.

The Ann storyline - which huge nerds at the convention have dubbed the Ann Arc, has finally reached its scandalous conclusion. The summer teen movie phase of Penny Arcade is over, and we may now resume making whatever it is we usually make. It's been a couple weeks, I'll probably need to hit the archive and take notes. I dimly recall a scorpion, pulsing with an emerald light.

Of course, WoW 1.6 would hit when no force on Earth could allow me to play it. New Gamma Pack though, I can get that.

As though being flung through the air in a steel tube were not already a grave matter for a rational person, one must necessarily arrive at an airport, a zone altogether hostile to the operation of the mind. Forever fixed in a twilight state, everyone is either running as fast as they can (see encumbrance rules), or they are shambling mindlessly in search of brains. When taking advantage of San Diego's restroom facilities, I saw that coins up to a dime had been dropped into it, so many that they nearly reached the water level. What a grim, I thought, what a grisly locale that its urinals and its wishing wells are synonymous.

We are off to the San Diego Comic Con tomorrow. In case you missed my post a few weeks ago I wanted to show you all the new stuff we'll have at our booth.

Looks like she got her equipment set up. Last time she was over here for a LAN, her machine came up on the network as Union_Maid. If you ever have the misfortune of spending any time with her father, I want to emphasize in the strongest terms that you should not draw his protest records back and forth under the needle - in effect, "re-mixing" them. If you absolutely must do it, then for God's sake please do not also attempt to kick a flow. I won't say how I know this.

The newest OXM is one of those issues that makes you consider subscribing: Battlefield 2 demo with Xbox Live support, Darkwatch Demo with XBL, and Pirates on top of it. What's more, it's got more information than I've ever seen elsewhere about the new Splinter Cell 3 downloads - two co-op and one adversarial. Something to consider for the weekend.

In the end, the solution was inelegant. In any case, the "Package" was retrieved. I don't know what the hell you want from me.

If you've moved since you pre-registered for PAX, please let Mike Fehlauer know - we're mailing the passes directly this year, cool little plastic cards and holders, and we would prefer that the pass arrive somewhere proximate to your physical person. Ahem.

And I have written it for Zach over at Joe And Monkey, which is a good comic and I like it. The strip itself was drawn by Mitch over at Nothing Nice To Say, a cartoon I am prepared to call awesome in every way, and it was really cool of him to do it. They're both in one of these pinko "collectives" the kids are always going on about. I have been told that they grow wheat.

New strip is up.

We barely escaped the extemporaneous shelters and choking black clouds of Spokane with our sanity intact. In exchange for potable water, we were able to negotiate with the roving Fuel Lords for an equal amount of petroleum - not much, but maybe enough to make it to Exile Station. As we burst onto the shattered highway, a shadow fell hard over the vehicle, a darkness that endured even unto the spiritual realm.

Why there is no Culdcept for the PSP is one of the last remaining mysteries of our enlightened age. There has never been a more perfect fit.