Slides that simply regurgitate an authors notes are anathema to me, so they may not make a lot of sense out of context. However, my presentation should be available shortly on YUI Theatre.

There is no off-season: NFL.com’s move to YUI

For its dev team, the NFL season is a breakneck-paced stream of new features, last-minute sponsorships and custom UIs. Developer Ryan Cannon describes the NFL’s transition from Prototype to YUI 3, and demonstrates how YUI’s JavaScript infrastructure has improved site performance, reduced development time and improved collaboration.

Preparation

At the beginning of an adventure, the following steps occur:

• Each player receives six tokens: a move token, a minor token, an interrupt token, an opportunity token, a standard token and a hero token (aka action point).
• Each player calculates the damage for his jab (see below)
• Players determine their initiative draw order based on their initiative bonuses

Pre-combat

Immediately upon declaring a combat, players and monsters that are not surprised may spring into action. Monsters act first, then players, starting with the player with the lowest initiative bonus and moving upward.

Springing into action allows a creature to take of the following actions:

• Shift half its speed
• Shift 1 square then drop prone
• Draw up to 2 items and ready a shield
• Make a monster knowledge check

The spring into action phase is where players declare the use of any powers or abilities that trigger upon rolling initiative (Such as Battlefront Shift or Past Life Flashbacks). These actions occur in addition to springing into action, but each player may only trigger one such power. Resolve any changes in initiative draw order at this point.

Once all players have sprung into action, players draw initiative cards (labeled 1 – 10) from a hat, beginning with the player with the highest initiative bonus. Each player may return his card and draw another one time. If player has a power that allows him to re-roll initiative, he may return his card and re-draw a third time. Players should not disclose their initiative card until their first action.

Initiative Order

Initiative Draw Order always begins with NPCs, then continues to players, and is based on initiative bonus. This allows players with the highest initiative bonuses to make decisions with the most information. A high initiative bonus also gives a player a better chance at drawing a high initiative card.

Initiative Card Order begins with the player with the highest numbered card (10) and proceeds down to the lowest (1). It is the result of sheer luck.

Monsters subtract half their level (rounded down) from a monster’s initiative bonus, and the result is their card order. Monsters act before the player with the corresponding initiative card. For example, an Ettin Hunter (level 10, +6 Initiative) acts before the player with Initiative Card 1, while an Ice Devil (Gelugon, level 20, +18 Initiative) acts before the player with Initiative Card 8.

The Combat Round

Combat begins with the player who has drawn the highest number. Before this player acts, all effects that happen at the beginning of a turn (auras, ongoing damage, etc.) are resolved for all creatures in draw draw order.

That player takes a single action, and then flips over the token corresponding to the action. The following actions may not be taken at any time:

• Delay
• Ready
• Monster knowledge check

Creatures may also pass their actions. Players should not speak during other players’ turns, unless an immediate action triggers. Each player should take no more than 30 seconds to declare his action, and the DM may declare a pass if a player takes too long.

Once the player resolves his action, the player with the next highest initiative card acts and so on. The DM returns all opportunity tokens at the end of each such round.

Once four rounds have past, all creature’s turns end, and all effects that occur at the of a turn are resolved in initiative draw order (e.g. saving throws), then all effects automatically end at the end of the turn end. Players that still have tokens remaining after four rounds receive no benefit from them. All players are then refunded their tokens and the turn order begins again.

Optionally, the DM can collect all initiative cards and have the players re-draw initiative at the end of each turn.

Jab

A jab is an at-will standard action power that any creature can take. It is a quick, weak but highly accurate attack. Any time a player is granted a melee or ranged basic attack outside of his turn (e.g. opportunity attacks, triggering a fighter mark or Commander’s Strike). Jab attacks automatically hit but do minimum damage. They cannot critically hit.

The Internet is changing, and I find it fascinating how all of these services interrelate. Some observations:

• The iPhone’s push notifications have replaced e-mail for pretty much all of these apps and I love it. Increasingly the only e-mail I get is spam and bills that need paying.
• I use Yelp a lot to find places, but they don’t let you actually post reviews to your iPhone, just drafts that you have to visit their website to finalize. I can’t be bothered.
• I’ve done checkins on Yelp, Gowalla and Facebook too, but foursquare is the one that stuck.
• LinkedIn and MySpace are intentionally absent, if you’re looking for me on there you’re looking in the wrong place.
• Posting Flickr -> Tumblr -> Facebook looks nicer the direct Flickr -> Facebook.
• API apps could really improve by letting you resolve dupes, e.g. “Post all of my tweet to Facebook unless they come from the Tumblr app.”

Facebook

Despite capturing pretty much everything I post to the Internet, I don’t actually use Facebook all that much. I sign on to see what my friends have posted, but that’s about it. I have over fifty acquaintances, friends that have grown apart and random strangers in my friend request queue. None of the other services have that problem. Perhaps Facebook is just too big. Perhaps it’s too cluttered or I’m just getting old. It feels like this generation’s AOL: replacing the Internet for the unwashed masses. I prefer to limit my exposure.

RIP RyanCannon.com?

It’s a bit sad that this website has sunk into disuse. The reality is that these other services serve my need to share stuff I find interesting with others better. I think there’s still room for the personal home page, but I’m not sure what it is. Think I could put it to a better use? Let me know in the comments (or, more likely, via one of the myriad services to which this blog will be syndicated).

The Need Vs. Greed Interface

Some players get huffy if you need on the wrong item, but these guidelines trace out the basic etiquette. Players have four options:

1. Need
2. Greed
3. Disenchant
4. Pass

Need: I need this because it’s better

Choose need when something is an upgrade to the gear you already have. The easiest way to find out if it’s better is to hold shift and hover over the item, which will compare it to what you already have equipped.

I guess it’s not an upgrade.

The more green stats the better. However, you also have to make sure the stats you are gaining are the ones you need.

There are some stats everybody needs: Mastery, Critical Strike Rating, and Haste, but they usually come in combination with other stats. Essentially, if you can use something and it’s got the stats you want, then roll need to get it. This gets a little more complicated as you increase in level. At level 50 you’ll get armor specialization, which will give you serious benefits to making sure you’re wearing all armor of one type. Otherwise need on upgrades. Don’t feel guilty if everything that drops is for you–it’s just the luck of the draw.

Needing for your unused spec is the leading cause of most fights in PUGs once dual talent specialization becomes available. Players that can use an item right now get precedence over players that would have to switch spec to use it. The best policy is to ask, and never roll for your unused (or off-) spec gear against someone who needs for their current (or main) spec.

Greed: I want this because I can sell it

Greed is the option to choose if something is not an upgrade, or if it’s not for your spec. There’s no actually “greedy” connotation to the choice: it’s what players should choose 90% of the time.

Disenchant: melt it down for its magic

If your group includes an enchanter, you will have this option as well. Disenchant is essentially the same as choosing greed, except your enchanter will automatically turn the item into a reagent that can be used to improve your gear. Disenchanted items also take up less bag space and can often be sold on the Auction House for more than the original items’ vendor price.

Pass: my bags are full

The only time you should ever choose pass is if your bags or full or if it actually makes your life worse by gaining the item. I sometimes pass on lockboxes because I can’t be bothered to find a rogue to open them.

Non-gear items

Some creatures drop rare items that are not gear: Chaos Orbs, holiday items, and gems for crafting. In general, if you can make use of it, need it. Greed is the safe option if you’re not sure.

“[This ring] was found in an old ruin several leagues north from here, … We identified it as a relic of an old god, long forgotten. Powerful, but cursed. Not to be easily used by… infidels, I guess. A strong will was needed, and I had to sacrifice some loyal servants before I found the right host. Well, aren’t you the lucky one?”

Humprin examined the ring, which was now tarnished and still snug on his withered finger. He guessed he was being lucky… counting himself still alive.

“What does it do?”

“It give us… control.”

Check out the full post: DALE2-3: Hearts in Shadow Teaser.

J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter novels and Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer, both released the same year, are eerily similar. The parallels cannot be intentional, but let me present the evidence and you can be the judge.

What follows is a comparison of several major and minor characters in both the novels and the series¹ describing the roles they play. Could so much similarity be coincidence?

The Protagonist

Buffy Summers

Harry Potter

The protagonist is intense and driven. Gifted with powers far beyond those of his compatriots, The Protagonist is attractive and a natural but unwilling leader. She quickly finds herself isolated by the stress of her position, which leads to aggression and anger even against friends and allies. The protagonist has little respect rules and authority, and as such is constantly in trouble with The Authority Figure. Due to the supernatural nature of The Protagonist, he is the only thing that shields the world from evil, and she is continually tasked with covertly saving the day from ever-more-powerful enemies.

The Brainy Best Friend

Willow Rosenberg

Hermione Granger

Pretty, but bookish, the brainy best friend is a whiz at everything, possessing smarts and a diligent study ethic. This excess of brains and resourcefulness is balanced by social awkwardness. Then intense curiosity and intellect leads her to dabble in more powerful magics than she aught. Ironically, she finds herself attracted to The Right-Hand Man.

The Right-Hand Man

Xander Harris

Ron Weasley

The Right Hand Man lacks the attractiveness and charisma of the Protagonist. He’s usually the comic relief of the bunch, and finds himself caught in awkward and embarrassing situations. Although he acts the coward, beneath lies a backbone that shows itself in the face of evil and adversity.

The Standoffish Mentor

Rupert Giles

Professor Dumbledore

Aloof and anachronistic, this knowledgeable older man is both an asset and a puzzle to the Protagonist. He usually goes by only his last name. He offers clues and knowledge, but saving the day is always left to The Protagonist. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses is a steely interior that belies his bad-boy youth.

The Fantasy

Angel

Sirius Black

The Fantasy is the man of the protagonist’s dreams. He represents the normalcy and perfection that the protagonist desires, but the reality of the Fantasy’s past prevents this dream from becoming real. The Fantasy is ragged on the edges, on the verge of unhinged, and is forcibly excised from The Protagonist’s life.

The Authority Figure

Principal Snyder

Professor Snape

While they’re both on the same side, The Protagonist and The Authority Figure are continually at odds. The Protagonist and his friends often interpret The Authority Figure’s motives as evil, when really they come from the character seeing the world in a different way, having different information, and protecting his own interests. The Authority Figure can’t stand The Protagonist, but reluctantly finds himself helping her when danger is imminent.

The Rebellious Werewolf

Daniel “Oz” Osbourne

Remus Lupin

This brilliant, quiet, scrawny male transforms into a feral vicious beast once a month, which his school friends help him hide, and restrain him from harming innocents. He lacks respect for authority, intentionally violating the rules. This character always finds himself playing second or third fiddle, where he is a competent but unexciting ally.

The Rival

Cordelia Chase

Draco Malfoy

Rich, attractive and self-centered, The Rival and The Protagonist continually find their paths crossing, despite the fact that there is no love lost between them. They constantly compete. The Rival feels extreme social pressure to be something he really isn’t cut out to be, often acting cruelly to those she finds weak or unattractive. Yet The Rival often finds himself laughed at by others during her moments of weakness.

The Mother Hen

Joyce Summers

Molly Weasley

The working-class Mother Hen is a frumpy and stressed-out worrywart who constantly fusses over The Protagonist. She always acts in the best interest of the kids, to the point of being a hindrance to them stopping evil forces. Although initially kept in the dark about the kids activities, when she comes face-to-face with what The Protagonist faces, she becomes a steely protector.

The Supernatural Schoolyard

Sunnydale High

Hogwarts School

Although a beautiful, welcoming place during the day, the setting is home to monsters and creatures of great power. Travel outside at night is quite dangerous. Despite this, the main characters are constantly sneaking around academic hallways late at night. The setting is a place of great power, which draws trouble to it. The melodramatic antics of high school provide a constantly shifting backdrop over which the child characters are constantly struggling with adult intrigue and danger.

1. At least as far as season three. That’s all that’s available free on Hulu. ↩

def loot(character_sheet_file)
  @xml ||= Hpricot::XML(character_sheet_file.read)
  @loot ||= @xml.search("//LootTally/loot[@count!='0']").map do |item|
    res = item.search("//RulesElement")
    case res.size
      when 0: nil
      when 1: coder.decode(res.first.attributes["name"])
      when 2: coder.decode(res.last.attributes["name"].sub(res.first.attributes["type"], res.first.attributes["name"]))
      else    res.map { |re| coder.decode(re.attributes["name"]) }.join(" ")
    end
  end.compact
end

Character files from D&DI Character Builder store loot as a list, but the names of magic items are concatenated with names of their connected mundane items, so you have to mix them based on the magic item’s @type.

Also, the Character Builder stores every item you’ve ever added, even if you deleted it immediately, so you have to filter out items with a count of zero. You have no way to tell if this was an intentional item purchase, an item accidentally clicked on or a found item from a module, so items with @count=0 are useless.

What could I possibly be building‽‽‽

“Grind” is, perhaps, an inappropriate term—I was playing a game, after all—and I met a lot of cool people and excellent DM’s along the way. Our tables included the prototypical nerds and die-hard gamers, but also parents and their kids; women are also fairly well-represented in Southern Californian D&D.

Mizrae’li, my character for the event, is a gladiator-trained Drow and tough as a coffin nail. She’s an unconventional fighter that zig-zags across the battlefield harrying enemies with her whip and throwing axe, keeping their attention while her allies finish them off. Laconic on the best days, she holds a lifelong grudge against the dark cult that sold away her childhood, and her hunt for them led her to Zhentil Keep.

At the last convention in February, SPEC 1-1: Shades of the Zhentarim, offered some missing history between 3rd edition Forgotten Realms and the 4th edition set 100 years in the future. This time, for SPEC1-2: Zhent’s Ancient Shadows, I teamed up with three of the five players from the first half. It was supposed to be a meatgrinder—one of our friends had his character die in the first fight and had to turn back. We were no little bit nervous.

We were returning to Zhentil Keep to clear out the undead menace we had uncovered before. Gathered with us was an army of clerics and paladins whose vocation was destroying undead. For six hours we carved our way through wights, vampiric trolls, and a huge, bone-shard-spitting [REDACTED]. It was a miracle we even survived, yet we were only halfway finished.

After an extended rest, we climbed a mile-long chain into a floating cathedral, and confronted a horrific [REDACTED]. The thing was so tough we had to take another rest after one fight. What we learned lead us on a chase through the city to some familiar ruins, an army of undead on our heels. Our allies and us pitch an epic last stand, as we complete the ritual that banished the undead, we were cheered by a victorious army.

Module box text has never left me as speechless or elated as it did that night. SPEC1-2 was by far the best written and most challenging adventure I’ve played in Living Forgotten Realms. The game would not be fun if every Friday was this stressful, but as the pinnacle of a long con. it was perfect.

But the best part was playing the module with my group of friends—most that played SPEC1-1 with me as well—an my fiancée by my side for the last half. And against the perfect DM: he scoffed at my character concept at a lowly first-level, but has since been brought around. But he was perfects hardcore. Almost all of the minis he used were exactly as described, and when he slapped down that [REDACTED], everyone at the table shrieked in fear.

I generally don’t tout this hobby because of the bad stereotypes given to its players, but it’s just too rare today to have a group of people of all ages sit at a table and play a game—good clean fun. And this past weekend, the only way to describe the experience is epic.

• It’s violent enough that I cringed. The movie is “patently too adult for … children 17 and under” and the fact that it’s not rated NC-17 is evidence of a moronic and/or corrupt MPAA.
• In all of 163 minutes, the only part of the whole flick I didn’t believe was a human able to walk in the open air of Antarctica in a peacoat and face sock.
• It had the finest, most tightly-controlled art direction I’ve seen in a film since Amelie.
• Multiply how great the art and story were, divide one by the result, and you get an approximation of crapitude of the music.
• It shows in excellent detail why powers like those of the motherfucking Flash are so dangerous.

In the previews: Terminator will be dumb. Star Trek looks like the story they wanted to tell all along and never had the technology. I’d want to see X-Men Origins: Wolverine even if Gambit wasn’t in it.

I’m going to try something new here, and introduce my readers to a side of me I usually reserve for my closest friends. For the past four months my distraction du jour has been the new Dungeons & Dragons Living Forgotten Realms campaign. My character, the repulsive yet good-natured Körgeth Tunneldredger has travelled around the Realms finding adventure—and having it find him.

Living Forgotten Realms is a more strictly-administered version of 4th Edition Dungeons & Dragons, where DMs report their results online and players earn in- and out-of-character awards that they take with them from game to game. The modules are designed for conventions, but the true benefit is that anyone in the world can sit down together and play the game with the character they’ve built themselves, and so long as it adheres to the creation rules, won’t disrupt or imbalance the game.

I’ve since passed the test to DM home games, and have twice run Pieter Sleijpen’s module, Inheritance. It’s an incredibly well-written module with some nice free-form RP opportunities and brutally challenging combat.

Warning: I’ve tried to omit any information that might spoil the module for a first-time player, but inherently there are some clues. If you want to play this module, you probably shouldn’t be reading this.

Unlike most modules, Inheritance has quite a focus on skill challenges and RP-only encounters, less on fights. I find Skill Challenges … um … challenging to run for a couple reasons:

• During free-form RP, type-A players tend to dominate the encounters.
• When one player succeeds a check, many DMs will announce, “you notice <dramatic revelation>.” But by doing so, it stifles RP, as the players have no need to converse with each other.
• Players often metagame, attempting to do what they’re good at, rather than what fits the situation. These types of skill challenges often become backwards: the player asks, “I’d like to make a Diplomacy check; what do I do?” This is largely because the penalty for failing skill checks is quite high (you usually need two times more successes than failures).
• Especially towards the end of the adventure, fatigued players and DMs will resort to “saving throw versus box text” in order to move on to the next combat.

I tried to compensate for these problems by forcing a little extra role playing. Instead of announcing “You notice <the thing you notice>.” I handed the character pre-printed card describing what they noticed. At the top of each card, I put a warning that reading the card verbatim or showing it to other players would result in a -2 to all rolls for the rest of the encounter. My players loved the drama caused by the small rewards, and really ran with at.

In addition to the skill challenges are the nasty fights. Most LFR combats are not incredibly challenging. Many are downright easy. In the first combat of Inheritance, I managed to drop a leader and a defender on the same round before any of the monsters died. TPK is not fun for anyone, and while the last fight is partly avoidable, the fact is not inherently obvious and it would have killed the party.

The DM‘s instructions suggest that a level 5, complexity 3 skill challenge can convince some of the enemies from attacking, but never really fleshes out how that would work. I knew my players would take that option if it seemed available, so I wrote one.

The fight turned out to be epic, and everyone played a role. The defenders and a striker kept the other monsters at bay, while the rest took turns aiding each other in what turned out to be a very difficult skill challenge. It ended up 7/3, with the next check (and some great RP) deciding victory or defeat. A very close die roll sealed the win.

Afterwards, everybody cheered. Even me.

My only regret is that the players succeeded in the first skill challenge. Their success kept them from meeting a very intriguing NPC, and I was excited to role-play his sadistic slow clap as the players emerged from the Forbidden Zones…

Notes

1. Körgeth’s solution to this problem is to repeat (often interrupting) the DM, in-character. DM: “you notice a trap door.” Me, pointing: “I’ve noticed a trap door!” Someone usually chuckles. ↩