lunes, 16 de marzo de 2015

Still alive - In Memoriam Sir Terry Pratchett

THANKS FOR LETTING ME COME —said the tall, hooded figure carrying a scythe—. THIS IS OUTSIDE OF MY JURISDICTION.
No problem —replied the pale young lady dressed in casual black clothes—, that’s what colleagues are for. We anthropomorphic representations must look out for each other, don’t you think?
YES. YES, I SUPPOSE WE SHOULD. IT STILL IS VERY NICE OF YOU. THANK YOU.
You’re welcome —said the lady, smiling.
Both figures stood unnoticed in a crowded room. Everybody, them included, was looking to a man that lied motionless on a bed. Only the face of the man was clearly visible, showing a peaceful facial expression framed by a bright white beard. The man was surrounded by his family, and a single cat was sleeping over the blanket, next to him.
HE WILL BE MISSED.
But he will also be remembered. He made a lot of people happy —she patted the cloaked figure in the back—, and he still will make a lot of people happy. Come on, go, don’t make him wait.
YES…
The figure left his scythe resting on the wall and started moving towards the bed, avoiding the attention of the people gathered around the man, slipping between them and slowly, solemnly, reaching the foot of the bed. He took special care so as to not wake up the cat. He liked cats a lot, but he’d rather not be subjected to feline scrutiny right now. He wasn’t embarrassed of doing this, it was his job, it wasn’t his first time and it won’t be the last. But he still felt an awkward pinch of guilt when he called the man.
SIR, IT’S TIME... —said the figure with all the gentleness he was capable of, but the bearded man did not move.
The hooded figure looked back to his colleague. Maybe the time was not right. Maybe it could wait. The lady had a sad smile on her face and an empathetic look in her eyes. It was time. It could not wait. He knew this, but it still seemed wrong.
SIR, PLEASE, IT’S TIME —he insisted, clearly and carefully pronouncing each syllable.
The man opened his eyes and looked around, slightly confused, at first ignoring the bright blue eyes that stared at him from under the black hood. He quickly realised his situation and answered to the cloaked figure.
    —Ah, it’s you —the man looked perplexed and slightly amused—. I wasn’t expecting you.
    —SORRY SIR, IT SEEMED APPROPRIATE —Death pointed to Death, that was standing next to a door, smiling at them—. SHE AGREED.
    A smaller cloaked figure jumped out from inside the cloak of the bigger one. It nervously approached the bearded man and stopped at his arm’s reach.
    —SQUEAK! —it said, anxiously tip-toeing with its small skeletal feet.
    —HE ALSO WANTED TO MEET YOU —Death said, sounding as apologetic as he was capable of—. IT DID NOT SEEM AS APPROPRIATE, BUT I COULDN’T CONVINCE HIM.
    —It’s OK —said the man, patting the top of its skull—. Will I be able to meet all of you?
    —I DON’T KNOW, SIR. WE’RE OUT OF MY JURISDICTION. SORRY.
    —Stop apologising. It’s not your fault —he looked around him, with teary eyes—. I’d prefer to stay a while longer, but… I know...—he sighed, unable to finish his statement, and got out of the bed.
    He slowly and longingly looked to everyone who was there, with a smile in his lips and tears in his eyes. They seemed frozen in place, unable to see him, looking directly to the body on the bed. The young lady Death approached him, with a glint in one of her eyes, the one with the tattoo, that may or may not have been a furtive tear. She offered him a hand, and he took it.
    —Nice to meet you, Terry. I’m a big fan —she confessed.
    —I didn’t think you’d had much time to read —he joked.
    —I make some time for the books that deserve it.
    He chuckled. Then his eyes caught the sight of the door that was waiting for him. That door wasn’t in the room before. It seemed quite normal, but above its frame there was a plaque that read: “A Better Place”.
There it is, isn’t it? —All the Deaths nodded in response—. Most depictions seem much more majestic.
I USUALLY DON’T PAY MUCH ATTENTION TO IT.
It’s not there for all people, either —pointed out Death.
Have you peeked inside? —two Deaths shook their heads, the third one squeaked softly—. I see… would you mind helping me get there? I’m a little shaky on the knees.
OF COURSE.
It will be a pleasure.
Death softly put his skeletal hand in one of the man’s shoulders on one side, while Death offered his arm for the writer to take. The three of them crossed the room in silence, taking each step in unison, until they ceremoniously reached the door. Two sighs and a small creaking broke their silence.
Well… —he said.
WELL… —he said.
Well… —she said.
Thank you… really… I don’t want to go, but I appreciate the farewell party nonetheless. Thank you very much.
He straightened himself up, and dusted off his clothes. He suddenly seemed quite younger than a few seconds ago. He offered his hand for Death to shake, but she surprised him with a hug. It felt warmer than he expected. She kissed him on the cheeks, his white beard tickling her white skin. He then offered Death his hand to shake. He took it and, although his skeletal hand felt soft and dry, the blue light in Death’s eyes clearly reflected his tumultuous feelings. He turned to face the door and turned the handle. The door began to open, without so much as a single sound, but the man was interrupted by a clicking noise. The Grim Squeaker was running frantically towards him, carrying a black  hat. The writer smiled and touched his exposed head.
I can’t believe I was going to forget that —he took the hat from the Death and gratefully shook his little paw—. Thank you very much.
SQUEAK! —answered it, happily shaking it back.
The author adjusted his hat and looked once more to everyone present in that room, smiling sadly. He turned towards the door once more, turned the handle and, before completely crossing the threshold, spun around and with a small farewell flourish closed the door after him.
The Death of Rats, visibly saddened (for those capable of understanding its emotions), jumped to the arms of Death, who tenderly scratched its skull, while Death reached for his scythe, that was still resting on the wall.
SOMETIMES I REALLY DON’T LIKE THIS JOB.
SQUEAK! —agreed Death.
Yes, I know —said the young pale girl—. And the pay isn’t very good either.
HA HA HA. YES, THAT IS TRUE.
Without even a bit of ceremony all the Deaths left the room and time reluctantly returned to its usual flow.



On March 12 2015, a family lost a loved one, and an ever bigger family also lost a most cherished writer, thinker and overall wonderful person. Thank you, Sir Pratchett, for all the laughs, the puns, the surprises and the feelings. For all the worlds and characters. For everything. Thank you.


The Disc will keep on spinning!


Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?”
Sir Terry Pratchett - Going Postal

P.S.: If you'd rather read it in PDF you can download the file here.

martes, 18 de febrero de 2014

The King of thieves - El Rey de los ladrones


Dado el tema del artículo, no esperéis que admita ningún copyright en esta imagen.
Tras mi último artículo vuelvo de rebote al tema de respetar propiedades intelectuales o, mejor dicho, de no respetarlas. El "Rey" al que se refiere mi título no es Robin Hood, no. Alguien repartiendo dinero entre pobres, ya me gustaría poder escribir sobre algo así. No. Se trata de King.com, la compañía responsable, entre otros apps, de Candy Crush Saga.

Shep Smith, informando al mundo sobre los estragos de la adicción. © Fox News

miércoles, 5 de febrero de 2014

La tienda de los errores 2 - Copywronged Boogaloo


Parte 2 - Copywronged Boogaloo

No os extrañéis de que repita sección tan pronto, ya os dije que en esta tienda hay material para rato. Todo lo que os traigo hoy para vuestro horror/disfrute surgió de una única búsqueda en la app store, Para más señas, una búsqueda de juegos clasificados como "RPGs" y que se consideran "Gratis". Esta búsqueda me sirvió para corroborar dos cosas. La primera es que Apple se preocupa incluso menos que Steam en que las etiquetas asignadas a los juegos tengan sentido. La segunda es que al tema de licencias y copyright solo le hacen caso si se juegan dinero ellos personalmente. Ojo, no digo que todos los juegos que os voy a enseñar carezcan de la licencia apropiada para explotar las diversas propiedades intelectuales que yo les asocio bajo mi criterio personal. No tengo forma de saberlo. Pero algo huele a podrido en la App Store, y estoy dispuesto a llegar hasta el fondo en este insípido intrépido artículo.

Primer sospechoso - Winter Frozen is coming 

Frozen, la última película de animación de Walt Disney ha sido un éxito en taquilla y promete aportar muchos brotes verdes (en forma de dinero, no como los de Rajoy) a la susodicha macrocompañía durante estos próximos meses, sobretodo en merchandising. Así que claro, no me extraña que otros quieran subirse al carro, o en este caso al trineo. Y el disimulo no sirve para atraer víctimas clientes, así que...

Pobre Elsa, parece un homúnculo sensorial.
Solo con el muñeco habría quedado sutil.

viernes, 31 de enero de 2014

El rincón del Neek - Videojuegos retro


Nueva sección, también conocida como el rincón del Gerd. © Taito
Vivimos en una época extraña. Los videojuegos son una parte muy importante de la industria de entretenimiento en todo el mundo. La tecnología alcanza niveles nunca previstos y cada año se ven impresionantes nuevos ejemplos de hardware y software que revolucionan la industria. Sin embargo, pese a que el entretenimiento electrónico está íntimamente ligado con el desarrollo tecnológico estamos viviendo una etapa de cierta regresión en cuanto a tipos de juegos, tanto por mecánicas como por diseño. Pero, ¿por qué este súbito interés por los videojuegos retro?

Es el sex-appeal. Siempre es el sex-appeal. © Taito

lunes, 20 de enero de 2014

Más vale tarde que nunca: ¡Feliz año nuevo! y concurso


Recortando gastos hasta en los títulos, oigan, que estamos en crisis.
Saludos de nuevo. Antes de proceder con las disculpas aprovecho para desearos un tardío, pero no por ello menos sincero, feliz año nuevo. Lamento haber tardado tanto en actualizar y, aunque espero que hayáis echado siquiera un poco de menos mis desvaríos, espero no dejaros tirados de ahora en adelante. Para evitarlo uno de mis compromisos de año nuevo es el siguiente: no cerrar 2014 sin haber actualizado al menos cincuenta veces este blog, lo que implica casi una actualización por semana (vamos, que ya llevo retraso) o semanas con más de una actualización (por increíble que parezca dada mi periodicidad habitual). Otro compromiso relacionado con el blog es animaros a los lectores a participar un poco más, lo que me lleva a este otro punto:

Sí, ya sé que parece que el concurso es el que no tiene cabeza... el tiempo dará la razón a la imagen.

domingo, 22 de diciembre de 2013

Hablando en serio - El intérprete del funeral de Mandela

Team America © Paramount Pictures.
Aunque parezca mentira soy capaz de hacer cosas de adultos y, a veces, presto atención a las noticias internacionales (aunque sea mediante canales poco serios). Una noticia que no me pasó desapercibida el pasado día 5 de diciembre fue la muerte de Nelson Mandela, importante figura política internacional. El día 10 del mismo mes se le rindió homenaje mediante un acto organizado alrededor de su funeral en el que participaron grandes figuras políticas y otras personalidades, tanto sudafricanas como de todo el mundo. Lamentablemente, tan digno acto resultó ser especialmente frustrante para varios grupos de personas debido a la intervención de este sujeto:

Imagen  cortesía de la web del Huffington Post.

martes, 17 de diciembre de 2013

La gran tienda de los errores

Saludos, querido(s) lector(es)*. Lamento mi prolongada ausencia. Vuelvo para deleitaros con una selección de joyitas extraidas de la gran mina que es la prestigiosa app store de iOS. Apple, como todos sabemos, es una marca que se hizo popular por su atención al diseño, eficiencia y calidad, y durante mucho tiempo ha sido la herramienta predilecta de profesionales del mundo de la creatividad en sus múltiples encarnaciones. Luego se hizo famosa y ahora casi todo el mundo tiene un iAlgo que usa para perder el tiempo de forma más elegante que el resto de gente que tiene PCs o cosas con android o mp3s baratos. 

Por este tipo de cosas mata y muere gente durante el Black Friday. (c) Hipsters and Sheeple

Yo, por ejemplo, tengo un iPad que suele hacer las veces de etiqueta de champú o cómic colocado a mano. Vamos, que lo llevo al baño para entretenerme. Y el cacharro tiene algunos juegos interesantes y aplicaciones útiles y tecnológicamente no está mal. No obstante me he percatado durante mis visitas al Señor Roca de un detalle: el esfuerzo (monetario y personal) dedicado al control de calidad de los contenidos de la App Store es inversamente proporcional al que destinan a vender los aparatos. (No son tontos estos manzanos, no). Así que, sin más dilación, os presento mi nueva sección:

Al cabo de un tiempo te da más miedo esta tienda que la de la película. (c) I'm gonna Pop a Cap