Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Why are there so many weird and inappropriate science fiction and fantasy toys?

Why are there so many weird and inappropriate science fiction and fantasy toys?

Why are there so many weird and inappropriate science fiction and fantasy toys?

The toy world is full of epic miscalculations. There are so many squicky, inappropriate action figures and other toys, after a while you start to wonder if the toy industry is some sort of bizarre joke. Who signed off on the masturbating Batman doll, or the Wolverine toy with the blow-up nozzle in Logan's crotch?
In a nutshell, why are there so many weird and unfortunate science fiction and fantasy toys? We decided to talk to an expert, Mike Mozart from Jeepers Media, and he explained the secret origin of squick.
Mike Mozart is sort of an internet legend. He's a toy designer himself, who owns something like 300,000 toys — in part because he also does consulting with toy companies on patent and copyright lawsuits, so he needs to maintain lots of examples of prior art. He's been doing toy-related videos for years, but he found that his "Fail Toy" reviews of horrendous and quasi-obscene toys were becoming much more popular, so he developed Jeepers Media to promote the "Fail Toy" brand. At this point, his videos — full of silly sound effects like "BOING" and his goofy riffing on the weirdly sexual toys — have gotten a quarter billion views on Youtube alone, and he's featured tons of other places.
We spoke to Mozart on the phone about just why there are so many weird, messed up toys out there.
Some classic 1960s and 1970s toys were obscene on purpose.
One of the most famous "WTF" toys of all time is the Batman squirt gun, where Batman is bent over. You remove a plug in Batman's rear end and fill the Caped Crusader with water, and then squeeze a trigger in his crotch, so that water sprays out of Batman's mouth. What on Earth were they thinking?
Why are there so many weird and inappropriate science fiction and fantasy toys?According to Mozart, these squirt guns (and some other similar ones) were made by a company called Elvin Toys, and they thought it was funny to be as obscene as possible. "I talked to one of the designers from that company," says Mozart. "I heard he was alive and living in New York... He bragged that they knew these toys were inappropriate." In fact, they considered that "part of the charm" of these toys.
Why are there so many weird and inappropriate science fiction and fantasy toys?This designer was your stereotypical old-school New Yorker, full of "dese" and "dems," and very much an old-school sexist pig — and the designer told Mozart the licensing department at Warner Bros. at the time was "a bunch of dames" who had no sense of humor. So the toy company reps would go out of their way to make sure the toys were as wrong as possible, and then tell the "dames" at Warner Bros. they were just imagining things. Maybe that's also how the infamous Wonder Woman scissors happened. At any rate, for the past few decades, Warner Bros. has had the least amount of inappropriate toys of any company — with one or two notable exceptions. (See below.)


What is up with Disney?
Just check out the weird Snow White and the Seven Dwarves pez dispensers, where the pez pieces come out of the dwarves' crotch areas and look exactly like candy penises. This was a limited edition of 150,000 pieces, and Mozart's theory is that some overworked executive at Disney said that they didn't want the candy coming out of the dwarves' heads, because that made their heads too big — and they didn't pause to think what that would look like.
"The Walt Disney company is crazy when it comes to dealing with some of the licensed product designs," says Mozart. "The people who approve the products at Disney are all overworked."


Why are there so many masturbating toys?
Speaking of Disney... Just check out Rad Repeatin' Tarzan, who makes his trademark jungle yell when his arm moves up and down like he's pleasuring himself. His arm is bent in a masturbatory angle by a plastic clamshell piece that forces his arm into that shape. Mozart talked to people who were involved in the design of this toy — apparently originally his arm was straight, so when it went up and down they were worried it looked like he was making a "Heil Hitler" motion. "It was one of those last-minute decisions," says Mozart. They didn't stop to think what else "Lord Greystroke's" arm might look like it was doing.


Possibly a similar explanation applies to this weird Happy Meal Batman Toy, where the Caped Crusader appears a little too happy? There's also pictures of a similarly odd Robin toy floating around, and a few other gripping, stroking toys on the internet.


And then there's Disney's Mickey Mouse Clubhouse toy, where Pluto and Mickey can talk to each other. With Talkin' Bobbin' action! And Pluto's paw is bent at a weird angle, so that Pluto's paw is pointing to his crotch and moving up and down. Originally, his front leg was bent at the elbow — as depicted on the back of the box — but Mozart says the people at Disney felt that it looked like he was making a stereotypically gay hand motion, so they straightened out his front leg to make it look more heterosexual.
Now, Mickey asks what Pluto's favorite toy is, or where to find Pluto's bone. And in response, Pluto basically grabs his crotch and makes a "Yuk Yuk" sound. Mickey says, "That's right!" The company made a "snap decision" to make Pluto look less gay — and it may have backfired slightly.
Why are there so many weird and inappropriate science fiction and fantasy toys?What's with the Dora the Explorer Aqua Pet thing? Another famous "fail toy" is the Dora the Explorer "Aquapet" toy, where it basically looks like a giant dildo. Mozart says that the toy company was used to seeing these things in different colors, including wild purple and green — they never thought about what it looked like when the base was a fleshy pink color. "That problem never presented itself until the toy came on the market."


Who thought inflating a hammer by blowing on Wolverine's crotch was a good idea?
This might be the most famous weird superhero toy in history — the Wolverine inflatable squeaky hammer, where you inflate it by blowing a nozzle located in the middle of Wolverine's crotch. That toy is so messed-up, many people thought it was a hoax. At left: the video where Mozart proves it exists. That toy was actually created by circus vendors called Rhode Island Novelties, or RINCO. They made a bunch of other ones — and if you look at the Shrek hammer, Shrek is taller than Wolverine, so the nozzle is a good inch below Shrek's crotch. "I think it looked like a good design, and when the designer designed it, it looked nice," says Mozart.


Why are there so many Spider-Man fail toys, in particular?
Seriously. Way more than any other superhero, Spider-Man seems to have the biggest number of messed-up toys. In the past, we've covered the Whippin Web-chuk Spidey and the Spider-Toss. There's also the Spider-Man dildo knife. And the Spider-Man mylar balloon where there's a thing hanging down that looks like Spider-Man's "shlong," as Mozart puts it — with a yellow ribbon coming out. And the Shape Shifter Spider-Man toy, where you have to insert a weapon into Spider-Man's rear (to go with the Punisher Shape Shifter, where the same weapon comes out of Punisher's crotch.) And there's also a life-size inflatable Spider-Man out there, where you have to inflate him by blowing on his crotch.
So what's up with all these mountains of horrifically wrong Spidey toys? "We've wondered that ourselves," says Mozart. His theory: A lot of Spidey toys were made by a company called Toy Biz, which Marvel owned themselves, and there was possibly just less product control than at one of the bigger toy makers. Also, the Shape Shifting Spidey toy is a bad idea in principle — "it's never a good idea to make transformers that are human-looking, because they're always going to end up looking inappropriate."


Also, there are just a ton of Spider-Man knockoffs out there — he's "one of the most knocked-off characters in history," says Mozart. So toymakers in other parts of the world create unapproved Spidey toys, many of which end up being just wrong. Possibly the dildo knife was one of those. See also, at left, Mozart's tribute to a Spider-Man bow and arrow, where the arrow goes through Spidey's midsection.


The most inappropriate toy franchise
Ask Mozart to name the most inappropriate line of toys out there, and he'll go on a tear against the Spongebob Squarepants toys. Spongebob is sort of sexual to begin with — he lives in Bikini Bottom with his friends Crab and French Tickler — but the toys are way over the line, including a Pez dispenser where Spongebob is wearing tighty whities and the Pez comes out of his crotch. And various Patrick figures, where there's a flower on Patrick's crotch with the petals split in a suggestive way. Or the "pole-dancing lollipop" where you suck on a lollipop that comes out of Spongebob's crotch. Mozart has had conversations with folks from Nickelodeon and the manufacturer, and he feels like they're doing this stuff on purpose.
There are basically no new "fail toys" any more
And Mozart takes a bit of credit for this — in the old days, people were afraid to bring up the potential for a toy to look obscene in product meetings, because everybody would just think they had a dirty mind, or they were just imagining things. Nowadays, though, people at toy companies are hypersensitive to that kind of thing, and people are encouraged to speak up about anything where you might get a weird impression. Because they know that if a toy looks potentially obscene or inappropriate, people like Mozart will feature it on videos that go massively viral. "I'm the excuse to change things at toy companies," says Mozart.


Game of Thrones concept art gives us a closer look at the White Walkers

Game of Thrones concept art gives us a closer look at the White Walkers

Game of Thrones concept art gives us a closer look at the White Walkers

In the second season finale of Game of Thrones, we came face to icy face with the fearsome White Walkers that live beyond the Wall. These concept designs by artist Martin Rezard offer a better look at chilly creatures who are ready to earn our fear.
Rezard has designed and sculpted creatures for a number of TV shows and movies, including Doctor Who, Farscape, and Attack of the Clones. These images show us faces similar to what we saw at the end of Season 2, albeit with more icicles, plus more of the creatures' bodies with their cavernous torsos.
[via XombieDIRGE]
Game of Thrones concept art gives us a closer look at the White Walkers Game of Thrones concept art gives us a closer look at the White Walkers Game of Thrones concept art gives us a closer look at the White Walkers

New Zealand’s Hobbit Trail

New Zealand’s Hobbit Trail - NYTimes.com

New Zealand’s Hobbit Trail

Weta Cave: Tim Clayton; all others: Andrew Quilty for The New York Times
Clockwise from top left: Hobbiton, Weta Cave, Hobbiton gift shop, Hobbiton property, Tongariro National Park, Chateau Tongariro. More Photos »
THE hill is perfect — steep, shaggy and as green as a radioactive shamrock, like the matching hills around it. The sheep seem pretty idyllic themselves: polite little nibblers who only sometimes block the road.

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As for the oak tree on the hill’s crest, it is quite literally perfect. Every flickering leaf was handcrafted, right down to the spidery plastic veins, a tribute to the meticulousness of Sir Peter Jackson, the movie director who staged this place, even creating the pond. (Where better for Paradise Geese to land?)
You are standing in Hobbiton, the place where J. R. R. Tolkien’s furry-footed Hobbits came to life in Mr. Jackson’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy and will soon reappear in his “Hobbit” prequels. The sky is dramatic, with sunbeams radiating like spotlights from behind thunderheads. You are woozy from the two-hour car ride from Auckland on a twisting two-lane road (nonstop chatter from Mr. and Mrs. Fanny Pack standing next to you doesn’t help), but a few deep gulps of the agrarian air is restorative. And no matter how stubborn, cynical or reluctant you may be (we were all three), this place is most likely casting its spell.
For Mr. Jackson, New Zealand and the millions of fans who spent the last decade tromping this island country in search of “Lord of the Rings” filming locations, the journey is about to begin again. In Wellington, over 100,000 onlookers are expected to turn up on Nov. 28 outside the red-carpet premiere of “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey,” the first of three “Hobbit” films planned for release by 2014. If all goes according to plan, the pictures will also reopen the floodgates of film tourism here.
Movies — ephemeral, imaginary — have a way of sending fans in search of something real. “The Sound of Music” left such an imprint on Salzburg after filming there in 1964 that tours to see where Julie Andrews played “Do-Re-Mi” on her guitar still attract tens of thousands of visitors annually. In Scotland, tourism skyrocketed at the Wallace Monument following the 1995 release of “Braveheart.” And in Natchitoches, La., devotees continue to spend $175 a night to sleep in the Shelby Room, where Julia Roberts became a star in “Steel Magnolias” some 23 years ago. (Yes, it is pink.)
But the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, which took in over $3 billion at the global box office between 2001 and 2004, changed the film tourism game entirely. To the surprise of almost everyone, it took possession of an entire country.
When New Line Cinema released the first of the movies in December 2001, tourism officials here hoped the film would, at best, move New Zealand up a notch or two on the list of world travel destinations. After all, Mr. Jackson bulldozed half of his Hobbit village when he had finished filming. Who in their right mind would drive hours into the rural countryside to see it to begin with?
But people came. Since the first film’s release, about 266,000 people have visited the half-ruined Hobbiton, according to Tourism New Zealand, with a majority from abroad. Over 50,000 people came in 2004 alone, when “Lord of the Rings” fever peaked following the release of the Oscar-winning third installment. In fact 6 percent of all New Zealand visitors that year, or about 150,000 people, listed the movies as a “main” reason for coming; 11,200 said it was their only reason.
New Zealand’s travel and hospitality industries, initially caught off guard, raced to meet demand. In Queenstown on the South Island, where Mr. Jackson filmed numerous mountain scenes, 17 tour companies, many of them popping up overnight, started offering movie-related excursions. Hotels across the country rolled out “Lord of the Rings” promotions and packages, and airport customs officials strung up “Welcome to Middle-earth” banners.
The government is hoping that aggressive planning will raise the number of movie-fueled visitors exponentially this time around. Kiwi officials negotiated a deal with New Line to put a travel infomercial on every DVD. In August, the government began a global marketing campaign featuring the slogan “100% Middle-earth, 100% Pure New Zealand.” In all, the country is spending at least $50 million on Hobbit-related tourism promotions, with the biggest attraction remaining this 1,200-acre farm in the slow-moving, once-upon-a-time North Island town of Matamata.
On its Web site, Matamata (pronounced MAW-da MAW-da) is billed as “a rural hinterland.” For the most part, it is exactly that. The town center has about 6,000 inhabitants. Another 6,000 are spread across farms that fall within Matamata’s boundaries. It all sits two hours by car or bus south of Auckland, whether by a relatively direct route that includes State Highway 27 or by a bewildering patchwork preferred by locals who hold to State Highway 1 and its adjuncts. We took the scenic route and drove ourselves, but Auckland’s Red Carpet Tours offers a popular bus service.
Once you arrive in Matamata you’ll find a few older, no-frills motels and a smattering of bed-and-breakfasts catering to Hobbit visitors, including the new Chestnut Lane Cottage, where the charming owners greeted us with warm scones slathered in orange jam and whipped cream. In terms of restaurants, there is the homey yet stylish Redoubt Bar & Eatery, but this is a fundamentally provincial place. The local newspaper prominently reports soil temperatures, and businesses are practical, like Boltholder Limited, “specialists in bolts and nuts.”
 
  Matamata caught its star, just barely, in 1998, when a farmer named Russell Alexander — jovial, bald and blunt — saw a stranger with binoculars peering across his land. Soon that interloper and his bearded boss, Mr. Jackson, returned with a request to build a “Lord of the Rings” movie set there.
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Speaking at his farm in late June, Mr. Alexander recalled his father blurting out: “Lord of the what?” Mr. Alexander said he “kicked him under the table.”
What Mr. Jackson and his associates originally built on a hillside and at the bottom of a deep hollow was a wonderland. Through a camera’s lens or to a casual visitor, it looked like a fairy-tale village and a Hobbit’s Shire, with a munchkin-size mill and dozens of brightly painted Hobbit hole homes, each with a circular front door and most with itty-bitty chimneys and the mossy look of someplace you might stop to rest.
But once the movies had been made, what remained was an unlikely destination for tourists. As Mr. Alexander described it, untreated plywood sat warping in the rain. A bridge constructed from polystyrene “rocks” began to collapse. Sheep grazed through a half-bulldozed Shire that was kept somewhat intact only because Mr. Alexander undertook the cost of basic maintenance and repair. “The movie studio actively discouraged me,” he said. Nevertheless, “People just kept coming.”
So Mr. Alexander, while continuing to graze 10,000 sheep on the property, started to formalize the business, adding restrooms, building a restaurant and buying modern buses to cart people between those amenities and Mr. Jackson’s set, located down a gravel road in the interior of the farm.
Two years ago, when Mr. Jackson returned to Matamata to film his new “Hobbit” prequels, Mr. Alexander persuaded him to kick in a few million dollars to make the restored set permanent. Now a 50-50 venture between the Alexanders and Wingnut Films, which is Mr. Jackson’s production company, Hobbiton recently unveiled the improvements timed to the movie’s release and New Zealand’s summer tourism season, which starts in November. New features include a pub, more Hobbit homes, an electric fence to keep out the sheep and a gift shop offering high-end collectibles (magic cloaks, 900 New Zealand dollars, about $760 at 1.18 New Zealand dollars to the United States dollar).
But, if a recent visit is any indication, one of Hobbiton’s principal charms remains its lack of polish. Our guide, complete with naturally gnarled teeth and muddy work boots, approached us outside the gift shop (where you buy tour tickets) and herded us into an 11-seat van along with eight other foreign tourists, most of them devouring cookies purchased at Mr. Alexander’s Shire’s Rest cafe. We bumped along, reaching the set after stops to open and close several farm gates. Storm clouds looked ominous, so everyone grabbed an umbrella from a wooden rack and set forth behind our guide, who warned us to “watch out for rabbit holes.”
Facts were recited: The tiny houses are sized for Hobbits, presumed to measure about 3 feet 6 inches. Pictures were taken: The 44 Hobbit homes are each equipped with fenced yards and windowsills filled with diminutive knickknacks. Orders were given: Do not open those little round doors. (A tour guide snapped when, inevitably, a member of the group did just that. There’s nothing inside anyway. It’s a film set, after all.)
Wandering freely on the vast set, about 12 acres, is not allowed, but we didn’t feel the slightest bit rushed. Treacle is sparse here, which is part of the allure; there are no costumed Hobbits smiling and waving, Disney style. But we did see crews pruning hedges, expanding a parking lot and building that themed pub, in anticipation of the coming crowds.
Near the top of the hill, the fabric leaves of Mr. Jackson’s fake tree fluttered in the breeze, and we gasped at how completely Hobbit Valley enveloped us. While Hobbiton and its sheep farm rival the size of the theme park at Universal Studios in Los Angeles, it is a unique environment — a quiet, spare place where the line between nature and art fades to nothing.
 
 
HOBBITON is just a starting point for serious Tolkien tourists who will need focus, stamina and time to make a dent in the hundreds of miles and some 70 sites (spread across two islands) portrayed in Mr. Jackson’s movies. The locations stretch from Port Waikato at the top of the country’s North Island (used to film the author’s Weathertop fortress ruins) to the bottom of the South Island, a spot where “Hobbit” characters seek refuge with a man who can transform himself into a bear. The distance between those two places is about 1,000 miles, and attempting to visit all — or even most — of the sites would require various forms of transit and a questionably zealous determination.
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For anyone interested in a four-day Middle-earth excursion situated solely on the more populated North Island, start in Auckland and rent a car, making sure to pick up a copy of Ian Brodie’s “Lord of the Rings Location Guidebook.” HarperCollins, which published the book in 2002, originally expected it to sell 18,000 copies, but Mr. Brodie, who helps supervise Hobbiton (and who can be seen in the “Rings” movies as a Gondorian bread seller), said 500,000 are now in print. He will publish a new guide as soon as Mr. Jackson permits disclosure of the “Hobbit” film sites.
After Hobbiton, drive about two hours south to the 300-square-mile Tongariro National Park, which has three active volcanoes and was selected by Mr. Jackson to stand in as Tolkien’s foreboding Mordor. The park, visited by about a million people annually, requires hard-core hiking to see properly, with an arduous eight-hour trek called Alpine Crossing taking you through scorched terrain to emerald lakes and steam vents. Film tourism here is not organized; most people follow the detailed where-to-go instructions Mr. Brodie offers in his book.
The centerpiece of Tongariro, aside from the volcanoes, of course, is an 83-year-old hotel called Chateau Tongariro, where Mr. Jackson and his crew camped, screening footage in its basement movie theater.
Though it looks from the outside like a cross between “The Shining” hotel and the Baltimore psychiatric hospital in “The Silence of the Lambs,” inside the atmosphere is lovely, with a grand piano in the lobby, swollen grapefruit-colored portieres and the sweet smell of old wood. When we were there it seemed to be filled with New Zealanders enjoying a weekend away, more interested in lounging in the lobby with cocktails than hiking, which suited us just fine, as we had the trails almost entirely to ourselves.
The hotel’s Ruapehu Room restaurant offers seafood appetizers and New Zealand standards as main dishes (a tasty rack of lamb with caramelized sweetbreads, 38 New Zealand dollars).
After a day in the shadow of Mordor, head to Wellington, a four-hour drive to the southern end of the island where Mr. Jackson’s film studio is. The offbeat, slightly San Francisco-ish capital offers more organized movie tours with visits to anywhere from 7 to 25 “Lord of the Rings” filming locations.
But don’t expect to see much at Mr. Jackson’s Weta Digital, a visual effects facility, or Stone Street Studios, which has four sound stages and all of the usual filmmaking trappings. Both are closed to the public. (Though Stone Street’s security guards may let you have a peek over the fence, depending on their mood.)
AS a Plan B, fans hang out in Wellington’s Seatoun district, a windy coastal enclave where Mr. Jackson owns property and has been seen driving one of his toys — a fanciful touring car used in “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.” Or one can do a surgical strike and skip straight to the Weta Cave, a gift shop, mini-museum and theater devoted to Mr. Jackson’s movies near Weta Digital. The Hobbit collectibles veer toward the tacky, but we did pick up a few unusual postcards adorned with real-life wetas, giant New Zealand insects that serve as Mr. Jackson’s emblem.
Having only six days to investigate the Tolkien universe that is the country of New Zealand, we had to miss some no doubt impressive sights — the Rangitata Valley on this country’s South Island, for example, where a grassy outcropping called Mount Sunday can be seen in “The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers,” as Rohan.
 
But we didn’t want to skip the South Island altogether, in part because it is where New Zealand’s most jaw-dropping mountains are. Moviemaking here is centered around Queenstown, a ski village nestled against a deep glacial lake. But filmmakers come for the Remarkables, a mountain chain so named because, well ... The jagged peaks have stood in for the Rockies in “X-Men Origins: Wolverine,” but it was the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy that most prominently featured them, and Mr. Jackson returned for extensive “Hobbit” filming.
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Nomad Safaris was one of the first tour operators to start selling a themed excursion when fans started arriving a decade ago. “We completely underestimated the intensity of these fans,” said Nomad’s highly caffeinated owner, a British expat named David Gatward-Ferguson. “People would come and bawl their eyes out looking at where Aragorn stood.” Nomad now offers two “Safari of the Scenes” options, each priced at about $134 for adults and $65 for children and lasting four hours. The company said about 10,000 people took one last year.
When we arrived in June, after two-hour plane ride from Wellington, Queenstown was hoping for its first snow and Mr. Gatward-Ferguson was retooling one of his tours to include “Hobbit” locations. He offered to give us a sneak peek, so we paid our fee and climbed into one of Nomad’s six-passenger S.U.V.’s, thrilled to have no other tourists in tow.
The first stop was a lakeside meadow outside Queenstown called Little Paradise, which Mr. Jackson transformed into a helipad to transport actors to a remote shooting location across the water. It was, well, a pretty little field.
Speeding along and spewing factoids, Mr. Gatward-Ferguson next turned onto a gravel road and came to an abrupt stop (while simultaneously tuning the radio and sipping his coffee) at a shallow river about 30 feet across. Our destination was on the other side. Muttering under his breath, he shifted to four-wheel drive and eased into the water — gently — as we clung to the seat and wondered if we had irrevocably crossed the line between casual Hobbit fan and self-destructive fanatic.
Then, after a few sharp turns through some woods, we emerged in a narrow valley, clear but with evergreens on both sides. Our guide parked and hopped out of the truck. On this site, Mr. Gatward-Ferguson announced triumphantly, Mr. Jackson filmed footage to create the Isengard fortress from “The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.” Ah, yes: We recognized the place. The sun was sparkling, but a wind blasted down the mountainsides at what seemed like hurricane force. As a gust left us shivering, he pointed out a small hill that will figure prominently in the second “Hobbit” film as the home of Beorn, the man who can transform himself into a bear.
“Let’s get back in the truck,” he said cheerfully, as tree limbs whipped back and forth. “It’s a bloody death trap around here when the wind blows.”
About 10 minutes later, however, he was precariously parked again, this time on the side of an impossibly narrow road. After shooing us up an embankment and into a dense forest, he proceeded to re-enact the plundering of Mr. Jackson’s evil Orcs. It was a good show; Mr. Gatward-Ferguson is no slouch as an Orc, having played one in the films. Still, our enjoyment might have been hampered by the words, “bloody deathtrap” ringing in our heads.
Barreling back toward town after a few more stops, the conversation turned to Nomad’s high hopes for a Hobbit-fueled boom. This time, Mr. Gatward-Ferguson vowed, it would be positioned to take full advantage of any surge. There will be a new tour for hard-core fans involving costumes and props. (“We’ll haul them into the forest and let them swing weapons around,” he said.) And his store will be expanded and stocked with more themed merchandise, like plastic elf ears for 17 New Zealand dollars.
“No one should go home without some elf ears,” he said. “Sometimes I wear a pair myself while driving around town.”
TOURING TOLKIEN
MATAMATA
We stayed at Chestnut Lane Cottage, a five-minute drive from Hobbiton. Private and sparkling clean, this small bed-and-breakfast was where Martin Freeman, who plays Bilbo Baggins, stayed during filming of the “Hobbit” movies. Reservations are a must. A stand-alone one-bedroom cottage is 130 New Zealand dollars, including breakfast. Other rooms are 105 New Zealand dollars, about $89 at 1.18 New Zealand dollars to the United States dollar. (4 Chestnut Lane; 64-7-888-5173; chestnutlanecottage.com)
For dinner, try the Redoubt Bar & Eatery whose welcoming fireplace was ornamented with a women’s brassiere when we were there. The menu is broad, but eating light can be hard in New Zealand. We went with the bacon-wrapped chicken breast stuffed with blue cheese, served on a Parmesan-coated portobello mushroom, 31 New Zealand dollars. (48 Broadway; 64-7-888-8585; facebook.com/redoubtmatamata)
There is also Workmans Cafe Bar, a greasy spoon down the street, which locals seem to like. (52 Broadway; 64-7-888-5498; matamata-info.co.nz/workmans)
TONGARIRO NATIONAL PARK You can camp, rent a one-room “back country hut” or stay in a low-cost motel, but there is really only one place to stay here: the Chateau Tongariro. Rooms are standard-issue historic hotel (spare and medium-sized but clean) with cavernous bathrooms equipped with old-fashioned towel warmers. There are several nearby hiking trails (ask one of the friendly front-desk attendants for advice on which might be best for you), and other activities abound, including golf (on a simple nine-hole course) and, depending on the season, skiing and river rafting. (State Highway 48, Mount Ruapehu; 64-7-892-3809; chateau.co.nz)
WELLINGTON When Hollywood bigwigs come to Wellywood, as the film-industry here is known, they stay at the quirky Museum Hotel. Decorated in bright colors (magenta, turquoise, orange), the boutique hotel is on the waterfront across from Te Papa, New Zealand’s newly opened national museum. Rooms start at 200 New Zealand dollars. (90 Cable Street; 64-4-802-8900; museumhotel.co.nz)
Eat locally sourced steak or lamb near one of the rounded windows of Hummingbird, an upscale, recently renovated restaurant, and watch the scene unfold on one of New Zealand’s busiest night-life streets. (22 Courtenay Place; 64-4-801-6336; hummingbird.net.nz)
QUEENSTOWN
The Rees Hotel, a 60-room boutique hotel on the lakefront, is home to True South, one of the best-reviewed restaurants in the area. (If our room service was any indication, the critics are right.) Rooms have expansive private balconies and chic wood furnishings by a local designer, Ed Cruikshank. Rates start at 195 New Zealand dollars. (377 Frankton Road; 64-3-450-1100; therees.co.nz)
Fat, messy sandwiches have made Fergburger a local favorite. The Little Lamby (12.50 New Zealand dollars) is “mutton on a bun” topped with mint jelly and tomato relish. The Big Al starts with a half-pound of beef, bacon, cheese, two eggs and a slice of beet. The motto for this hole in the wall: “Let there be burgers for people when they are drunk to hell.” (42 Shotover Street; 64-3-441-1232; fergburger.com)
Tour Groups and Guides
The efficiency of New Zealand tour operators will thrill you, whether it’s Red Carpet Tours in Auckland (64-9-410-6561; redcarpet-tours.com) or Queenstown’s Nomad Safaris (64-3-442-6699; nomadsafaris.co.nz). A one-stop shop for accurate countrywide travel advice and booking help is Positively Wellington, the capital’s tourism division (corner of Wakefield and Victoria streets; 64-4-916-1205; wellingtonnz.com).
Getting Around
We drove 500 miles in total, covering a wide swath of the North Island, with nothing more than the maps app on our iPhone as a guide. Car rental agencies are plentiful (remember to drive on the left). We found hopping on domestic flights to be shockingly easy. For our flight from Queenstown to Wellington, for instance, there was no security screening or gate announcement. An airport employee simply appeared while we milled around the central waiting area and said, “All right then, anyone who’s going to Wellington, get on. That door.”       
 

Go Villain With the Book of Vile Darkness

Go Villain With the Book of Vile Darkness | GeekDad | Wired.com

Go Villain With the Book of Vile Darkness




Add a little evil to your next D&D campaign with the help of the Book of Vile Darkness, a resource packed with ideas for nefarious NPCs and PCs. One of the most enjoyable roleplaying experiences I can remember was as a member of a mixed group of nobles and commoners; my character convinced the other nobles to use the commoners to set off a pesky trap we couldn’t disarm. Great fun!
I’d hope that the idea of playing an evil person isn’t abhorrent — it doesn’t (necessarily) mean being a psycho. Oftentimes it’s a matter of the character having his or her own perspective or worldview, or a unique code of honor. How often have two honorable warriors from different tribes or cultures considered the other to be a paragon of evil? It could also be the case of a bitter survivor who has had to become ruthless to survive, or a decent person who has sworn an oath to obey the orders of an evil overlord. There are all sorts of interesting reasons for playing evil.
The Book of Vile Darkness consists of a GM’s Book, a Player’s Book, as well as a poster-sized tabletop map for use with miniatures. The GM’s book is 96 pages long, and is packed with tips and resources like suggestions for PC motivations, as well as more concrete assets such as descriptions of particularly evil traps and curses. The book also covers different types of villains, evil organizations, magical items for evil characters, as well as an adventure for use with the map.
The smaller (32-page) Player’s Book contains themes, powers, and paths for evil-themed PCs. Most of these players’ resources weren’t all that exciting for me, but a lot of it is sort of a “class fatigue” where there are so many options already that new ones often lack enough punch to catch my interest.
Regardless, the overall package is full of really great resources and ideas. Even if a GM just uses the Book of Vile Darkness to make more interesting villains, it’s a win

Obama vs. Romney D&D Smack-Down at NYC Gallery

Obama vs. Romney D&D Smack-Down at NYC Gallery | GeekDad | Wired.com

Obama vs. Romney D&D Smack-Down at NYC Gallery




Romnney as a D&D character “Lord Spelldyal”: A character sheet artwork by Casey Jex Smith (Image: Casey Jex Smith/Allegra LaViola Gallery)

Art can be political. Politics can affect art. Certainly the art world and politics can sometimes feel like a role-playing game.
But there are very few opportunities where art, politics and gaming truly intersect. This week, if you head to the Allegra LaViola Gallery in New York City to see Fiend in the Void, a solo exhibition of works on paper and sculpture by Casey Jex Smith, you’ll get a chance to see a Dungeons & Dragons clash of the titans between President Obama and Mitt Romney. The winner decides how the artist will cast his real-world vote in the real-world, 2012 presidential election.
The show’s opening reception, Wednesday, October 10th, from 6-8 pm, will feature a live performance — a battle, at it were, with dice.
“Two volunteers will take up the roles of Barack Obama and Mitt Romney and audience members will get to decide the fate of the election using Dungeons and Dragons dice, rules and attacks,” said the gallery. “Smith will act as Dungeon Master of the game, and the ultimate prize is his vote.”
The winner of the battle determines how Smith casts his actual ballot in his swing-state home of Ohio. (Note: It’s Smith who will cast his own vote for the winner of the game, be it Obama or Romney. Nobody will vote FOR him. That would be voter fraud.)
“Romney is a fighter. Obama is a Sorcerer,” said Casey Jex Smith in an email. “I will have to dumb down the rules a little so the battle is fast and furious. Romney will have a better thaco but do less damage. Obama will have worse thaco but do massive damage. It will essentially be all D20s and D6s.”
President Obama as slightly demented-looking “King Belian Shipsale.” The name comes from Wizards of the Coast’s random character name generator. (Image: Casey Jex Smith/Allegra LaViola Gallery)
“Using the world of sci-fi/fantasy, Dungeons & Dragons, and Mormon imagery as a springboard for exploration,” said gallery director Allegra LaViola, “Smith has created a world where Mitt Romney and Barack Obama are not just candidates in a race, but also but also mythical heroes in an imagined world.” Smith is a practicing Mormon, who identifies with Romney –”an unusual stance in the arts community.”
I asked Smith about his idea behind this show, which includes several characters sheets and other gaming-inspired works (and many works without any explicit gaming references). Why did he turn Obama and Romney into D&D characters?
“Ramparts” (Image: Casey Jex Smith/Allegra LaViola Gallery)
“I had already done portraits of them as well as John McCain back in the 2008 election. I did a series of male power figures that had an influence on me at the time,” Smith said. “I wanted to elevate these figures into mythical heroes through the lens of a language that I loved and was well versed in. The statistics allowed me to say more about the figures in a way that a traditional portrait wasn’t able to do. When this year came around, I decided to update the portraits and then create a narrative around their election year battles. My interest in Romney comes from my being a Mormon and watching this ‘Mormon Moment’ happen with some pride and trepidation.”
Smith is, essentially, giving away his vote. I wondered, did this decision represent his ambivalence about the election?
“I have put some serious thought into the idea. I don’t give up my vote lightly,” he said. “But would it be awful to say that I honestly think either candidate will do an OK job?”
Smith said he voted for Obama in the last election because “I was disgusted with the Republican party.” But lately, he felt the spirit of his late father “haunting” him and “prodding” him to vote for a conservative candidate. “I prefer the moderate Romney. I’m on the fence. Undecided,” he said. “So being undecided I don’t have a problem giving up my vote.”
This is Smith’s third solo show at the gallery, LaViola said, and one where he decided to “take on religion and politics.” As a practicing Mormon, Smith has an interest in religion, and this election cycle, Mormonism has been headline news. Instead of remaining silent about his relationship with his church, Smith has “come out with all guns blazing,” LaViola said. ”Smith’s incorporation of religion, fantasy and art history is both unique and unusual.”
Smith’s work includes “exquisitely rendered,” highly-detailed drawings (often ink on paper). The show also includes sculpture and mixed media works in pencil, color pencil and collage. Casey Jex Smith lives and works in Ohio. He holds a BFA from Brigham Young University and an MFA from The San Francisco Art Institute. He has shown his work at the Drawing Center, Yerba Buena Center of the Arts, and Swarm Gallery, Oakland. His work has been reviewed on artnet.com, Beautiful Decay, Time Out Chicago, and Fecalface.
[Incidentally, in the show, Smith was kind enough to include a work with a subtle shout-out to this blogger. In the below character sheet featuring the likeness of Vin Diesel, Smith outfitted the 14th level fighter named "Divleesin Banesguard" with "Gilsdorf's Studded Leather of Criticality +3." "I was reading and enjoying your book at the time I drew his portrait," Casey told me. "Your book meant a lot to me at the time so I felt like a shout out was necessary." Thank you, Casey. I have arrived.]
Yep, that’s Vin ”Divleesin” Diesel wearing ”Gilsdorf’s Studded Leather of Criticality +3.” (Image: Casey Jex Smith/Allegra LaViola Gallery)

Raph Koster's Theory of Fun, ten years on

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Raph Koster's Theory of Fun, ten years on

Ten years ago, Raph Koster came to GDC in Austin to give a talk called A Theory of Fun, before it was ever a book that's fallen in and out of print multiple times -- it still sells 4,000 copies a year, which might make it the best-selling game book of all time.

Back then, MMO veteran Koster had just finished Star Wars: Galaxies, and the feedback was it wasn't particularly fun. Wondering if he'd lost touch with what makes games fun, he decided to look at psychology and cognitive science as his colleagues Dave Rickey and Noah Falstein had been doing, to explore the nature of play and what fun really is.

Science knows humans apply patterns to reality often unconsciously. Some behaviors, like nursing, we're born with, and others we learn over time. Playing games is a crucial education and practice tool over time not just for humans but for animals, who learn their basic survival behaviors by playing together.

"If you've ever seen a kid first learn how to walk, the look of joy on that toddler's face: It's fun. They're playing a game," suggests Koster. The brain releases endorphins in response to playful learning, and that basic concept is at the core of Koster's A Theory of Fun, which explores natural human patterns and systems to find what people naturally find compelling about games.

Some theorists separate "games" from "play," under the presumption that games are highly rule-bound while play is supposedly unstructured nd spontaneous, but part of what A Theory of Fun does was dismiss this idea. "When you're playing a tea party, it's just another system for you to learn," Koster says.

"If you're playing cops and robbers, or role-playing or making up another game with toys, it's a system with a lot more rules than Candy Land," he continues. "It has more rules, not less... games usually deal with small, constrained, tiny little rulesets you can write down. Ever tried to write down a ruleset for physics?"

Any system can be approached as a game, and since games are intentionally created to teach systems that modify the wiring in our brains, games can be viewed as an art form that re-wires people's brains. "We have the power, and that means we have to be responsibly... we actually get to engage in direct mind-control," Koster suggests.

The particular types of fun Koster is most interested in differ from flow states or pleasure-states like delight: "Art's challenging; art we have to work for. Something that's pretty and delightful... isn't the unexpected moment. That's delight, but it isn't what I would call 'fun'."

Koster sees fun as very dependent on the neurotransmitter of reward, dopamine. "Dopamine is really interesting because it specifically enhances learning and memory. Specifically it relates to predicting rewarding outcomes, which funny enough, is a lot of what we play games for," Koster explains. "It is a teaching signal to the brain. It gets dumped in you when there are unpredictable situations as well, in order to encourage you to solve them. It also decreases inhibition."

In other words, dopamine is associated with the thirst for knowledge: "Maybe fun isn't 'learning,' it's 'being curious about life,'" Koster suggests.

People do play for other reasons besides fun: To focus meditation, to explore a story, to gain comfort instead of fun per se, or for "deadly serious" practice to win a tournament. These are valid reasons to play games but separate from Koster's theory of fun.

"A lot of people hate the idea that we can reduce all of this to something so mechanical," suggests Koster. "I hate to say it, but the more science that has come out over the last ten years, the more this entire thing has been validated. There's more and more evidence to show we do in fact engage in significant, difficult learning with games, that gamers are predisposed toward learning, that games have real therapeutic value... it's all come true."

But that creates, now, a funny issue with the word "game." Abstract games that are nothing but challenge, art games that have no challenge at all, yet all are called "games." What, then, does that mean? According to Koster, game design means the creation of systems, not any of the visual or created elements.

"Every game consists of being presented with a problem, preparing to start it -- setting up the chess table -- a topology in which the problem exists, because shooting at a space invader from behind the shield or behind the field is a different problem... and a core mechanic," says Koster. "Then you get told how you did."

Look at Portal, for example; there's the macro-level of beating the game, a smaller level of beating one stage of the game, all the way down to the subtleties of positioning the gun and understanding the game's grammar. This "atomic" view of games helps explicate and illustrate the gap between what a game is, and the game's surface (what Clint Hocking refers to as "ludonarrative dissonance").

Of course, many designers are running over games with a fine-toothed comb. Independently of Koster, Dan Cook came up with "skill atoms" in his Chemistry of Game Design; Ben Cousins measured the amount of time you spend in the air jumping in a wide array of games and found that an optimal time exists. Designers research games closely, define their science, and diagram them.

Yet what is the black box at the core beneath it all? There are only four core mechanics in games, Koster theorizes: Solving problems heuristically. understanding other people and social relationships, mastering your physical relations, and exploiting the natural human difficulty in estimating probability.

At games' core, they're entirely about math -- but as someone with a Master's degree in poetry, Koster has a hard time accepting this. "It seems to me that math has real problems expressing a whole bunch of stuff. How do you write a game about the taste of a peach? How do you touch the ineffable?"

Yet so many art games -- Rod Humble's The Marriage and Jason Rohrer's Passage -- were derived directly as responses to A Theory of Fun. Koster sees a spectrum with accessible entertainment at one end, and art that requires literacy at the other.

Entertainment is conservative and familiar, while art is risky, challenging patterns we don't yet understand. It enforces -- sitcoms help us do social norming and understand how our culture works. It provides the delight of pattern recognition. But art is challenging and offers new systems to master (a bit of info you can use if you ever get into a "games as art" debate).

More and more we create games that create lots of surface and very little "black box," games that become button-presses leading to events, one after the other. "It's so much easier to express art through story and movie-making than it was through game mechanics," he says. But does that mean games like Dear Esther are really games?

"It might be we're creating a new kind of entertainment that isn't 'game design'... we might need a new name, because a designed game is an interactive experience, but not all interactive experience are designed to be games. And maybe there's such a thing as "ludonarrative consonance," where some associations -- like uni-directional platformers and the meaning of life, or colonialism and MMOs -- just naturally fit.

"Am I seeing everything as systems because that's the way the world is and that's what games are? Or... am I approaching it all this way because games trained me to see everything as systems in the first place?" wonders Koster. "Because we design either through intention or accidentally by omission, we are changing a brain."

But the things that make us the most happy are the things that games do really well: Social connection, gratitude and generosity, optimism and striving for goals.

In the end, if fun is joy, and the grand pursuit of happiness, that's enough for Koster.