Well, if you’re seeing this, you, too, have made it through. What does it mean when the introductions to New Year’s posts sound like the last surviving notes of long-gone pirates? It’s a format I expect we’ll be seeing more and more frequently, as the collected accumulation of stress and tragedy continue to shatter any sense of time… or shared reality. Still, as they say, the horrors persist, but so do we… even when there’s a cost. So if our New Year’s Resolutions seem smaller-scale this year, it’s because it’s all we can do to keep going - a feeling I’m sure you, too, know all too well. Furiously scratching at the walls in panic, we tumble into 2026… but at least we’re doing it together. - B A : Before I sink into the state of what we’ve thrown this particular post entry into, I want to go over resolutions, past and present. Though, as noted last year , we can’t really dwell on what we didn’t accomplish, even if they're just bits of media we meant to attend to. My goals weren’t lo...

It's been weird seeing news articles about the first three  Zork  games this past week. The fact that Microsoft has officially put them into the public domain is certainly newsworthy, and offers a (likely naive) hope that this will set a standard for the future of older titles, but these games are extremely important to me as both player and scholar of gaming history, and deserve a closer (and, naturally, more personal) look than they're being afforded by the recent news coverage. So let's grab our trusty battered brass lamp and delve into the ruins of the Great Underground Empire, to LOOK AT, EXAMINE, and INSPECT the original  Zork  trilogy. It's essentially sheer luck that my first exposure to interactive fiction, as we call it today, was the first  Zork . If I played anything prior to that, it didn't make enough of an impression for me to remember it. The uncle responsible for the hand-me-down Commodore 64, the first computer to belong to me personally, proba...

Recently, I've been undertaking a task that I've been putting off for... literal decades, now that I think about it - retrieving and sorting the books that went into bins in my parents' basement when I first moved out of their house. As we've talked about plenty of times, you can glean a lot about person from their chosen media, and our selves are no exception. While a lot of books I uncovered were from my teens and early twenties, there were a few favorites going back to when I was much younger. One of the most beloved books that greeted me for the first time in nearly twenty years was  The Book of Lists ,  accompanied by two of the follow-up volumes. They're the kind of book that, thanks to easy-to-access internet, seem downright quaint now, but there was a time when they, especially the first volume, were my constant companions. At the time, I think I was more focused on the sheer amount of knowledge (some of which was rather... spicy for a kid my age) available ...

Given the choice, I probably wouldn't have  chosen  to play as a space bug at the time. But there were very, very few games available, let alone games with manuals , let  alone  games with high-quality full-color comic books explaining the story.  Yars' Revenge  had all of these, and it was a space game to boot, so, for perhaps the first time, I fully envisioned myself as something non-humnaoid in taking on the role of an electronic game protagonist. Maybe I could have ignored it, gone with an alternate interpretation that I was simply flying some kind of insect-shaped spacecraft , but the comic (and the map at the back) were simply too  cool  for that. It gave me a weird feeling, what I now know to be called "cognitive dissonance," but I accepted that slapping that cartridge into the Atari 2600 and flipping the "on" switch meant becoming, for however long I'd be playing, something very different. It's not like I wasn't already in love with the...

There are generation-defining pieces of genre media, influential works whose presence is immediately felt in everything that comes after it, works in whose facets we can see its peers, its predecessors, and all the many creations it will inspire. And then there’s Back to the Future (1985) , which is somehow the complete opposite. Generation-defining, sure, but also wholly unique to its own vision, an unreplicable artifact, notable entirely for its own brilliance rather than an empire built on its foundation. These actors, these scenes, that direction… there’s really nothing else like it - even the sequels are largely their own things rather than rehashing the original. There were a couple expansions via the short-lived animated series and the much-beloved Telltale adventure game , but on the whole it’s been allowed to simply be - a rarity in today’s media landscapes of constant remakes, reworkings, and rehashes. Back to the Future is a movie that means a lot to us at Never Say Dice, a...

The Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. Is there another fictional (or even real-world) mixed drink as well-known to geeks and nerds everywhere? Like much of the larger Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy universe, it doesn’t make much of a direct appearance in the story itself, but establishes the character of the setting and the people who occupy it, especially given how early it appears in the story. The original 1978 radio play text ( unchanged in the 1981 television version ) is a great bit of writing, but it’s expanded upon greatly in the 1979 novel with the actual recipe for the “best drink in existence.” Each ingredient comes from a different planet, each with its own story or tradition, and, even though we never get to see any of these worlds (or their contribution to the Gargle Blaster), the sequence does a massive amount of worldbuilding and tone setting. And that’s one thing that’s interesting about cocktails - unlike most real food, they’re specialty preparations that stand out on ...

I don't think I've seen it out there as a meme, but you can tell a lot about a person's history by asking which iteration of A Christmas Carol was their first. Consummate child of the 80s that I am, for me it Mickey's Christmas Carol , taped onto Beta from some mid-80s showing. At the time, I didn't appreciate that it was only the second ever screen appearance of the already-legendary (in comics), although it did help set the stage for my DuckTales fandom shortly afterwards. While a number of changes are made for time, intended audience, and the central hook of casting existing Disney characters, Mickey's Christmas Carol doesn't duck (sorry) its responsibilities when it comes to the story's final climax: the existential horror shown Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Future - a terrifying, yet captivating, sequence for a youngster like myself, capping off a story involving more temporal complexity than anything I'd ever seen to that point. ( Back to...

Given the power they exert over film and other visual media, it's no surprise that some editors think of themselves as gods... and when it comes to turning raw, disorganized messes of raw footage into complete narrative products, they might as well be. Not to mention the advice that a (possible) god once told (wannabe god) Bender, that goes doubly for editors: "when you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all." Not to say there isn't flashy editing, of course, the kind of cuts that demand a viewer's attention and acknowledgement through sharp juxtaposition or shifting from one part of a story to another in a manner reminiscent of a page being turned or curtain pulled. But these examples are notable because they're standout exceptions - most editing has the far more mundane, but no less miraculous, task of turning a three-walled set filled with lights, cameras, microphones, and all the people running them into the illusion of...

Anyone who knows their Never Say Dice Lore is familiar with our lifelong Simpsons fandom. While we were lucky enough to catch the legendary Golden Age of the series when those episodes were first airing, we actually started before even that. While most of the elements are present that would eventually enshrine the series in cultures worldwide, the show itself is rather different in its first two seasons: slower, with a smaller scope and emphasis primarily on family and social relationships - not to mention relatable scenarios, the kind of things that happen to regular people. (And not one single magic robot!) As a kid, I remember them hitting pretty hard emotionally, particularly “Bart Gets an F,” “Bart’s Dog Gets an F” (no surprise those would hit someone who, at the time, was the same age as Bart), but especially “One Fish, Two Fish, Blowfish, Blue Fish” which dealt with mortality I’d never seen before. I had fewer of those moments of deep emotional connection as the series went on, ...