Battlefield 3 Patch Notes and Commentary

Battlefield 3 will be getting a patch today (how nice of them to get me a birthday present).  The details of the patch can be found on battle log.  Browsing through the notes I think there are some definitive steps being taken in the right direction for the game.

First (but last in the notes) are the changes to squad management.  Squad management as it is currently is a nightmare.  Trying to play with friends in the same squad is a lesson in frustration.  The patch has several tweaks that will help squads be easier to join.  Most importantly players can now join an empty squad which will make it much easier to get everyone into the same squad.  This was not possible prior to this change.

My only disappointment with the squad UI and management changes is the fact they still are NOT adding the ability to have more squads available.  If a squad is made private on a 64 player server, and the four slots are not filled, then players get stuck without being able to join a squad.  This is a glaring bug that should be fixed.  I'm a bit scared by the quote in the notes that they aren't planning on fixing this oversight:

Please note that the Squad Privacy option still allows 2 man Squads which, during 64 player sessions, can lead to players with no squad position

The next big change is that to infantry anti-air (AA) weapons which got nerfed in damage.  Personally this one didn't make much sense to me.  Most pilots have flares and stealth, almost eliminating the threat from ground AA almost 100% of the time.  The better helicopter pilots in particular will have two sets of flares and be able to navigate the map via stealth to guarantee they can't be locked on.

The AA change really confuses me. I don't know if DICE wants infantry to be able to bring down aircraft or if they have the same silly ideas that they had with Battlefield 2 where aircraft reign supreme on the maps.  Small arms fire doesn't harm the aircraft.  Nor does fire from a jeep-mounted weapon.  The only viable way I've seen to take down any aircraft is with an aircraft of your own.  Even tanks struggle to take down aircraft and aircraft can easily destroy any tank in a single salvo of their unlimited rocket ammo.   DICE just sucks at implementing aircraft in their modern day titles.  Battlefield 1943 seems to be the only game that has gotten aircraft right.

A lot of weapon damage got tweaked as well.  This is nice to see to bring some of the more popular weapons back in line with the rest of them.  However, I still feel BF3 has very little variation in weapons.  There is almost no reason to use most of the new weapons that are unlocked as they function nearly identical to a player's current weapon.

One big fix on the hardware glitch side for me will be "Fixed a problem with high speed mouse movement" as I recently changed mice and often find myself having to dial down my mouse sensitivity and DPI on the fly in order for me to make small movements with the mouse.  It really feels like my mouse is just stuck at times, unable to make anything but a huge sweeping arc instead of the pinpoint nudge I need to put bullets on target.

Overall this patch will be good for the game, but Battlefield 3 has a long way to go and a good couple of expansion packs to become a worthy contender for best Battlefield game.  Currently I would probably put Battlefield 3 as the fourth best Battlefield title I've played, which isn't bad considering I hold the entire series in high regard.

Civilization MMO? Not from Sid Meier? What?

News has hit the net that XLGaming will be making a Civilization MMO.  XLGaming?  Where is Sid Meier?

Get ready, Civilization fans, as your favorite franchise is heading to MMO-land (and no, we're not talking about the Civ World Facebook game). A couple of months ago we told you about XLGames' partnership with Take-Two Interactive, as well as the fact that XL would be making an existing Take-Two property into an MMORPG. 

This morning, various Asian gaming websites confirmed that said property is the venerable Civilizationseries that began way back in 1991. Details on the new game are sparse, but Google Translate versions of the news articles indicate that XL has begun "large-scale recruitment of MMORPG developers [...] including server [programmers], client programmers, artists, planners, project managers, story designers, [and] mission designers." 

Prior to its involvement with the Civilization franchise, XLGames was known exclusively for ArcheAge, a fantasy sandbox MMO that is currently undergoing closed beta testing in Korea.

I can't imagine this turning out well.

NaNo WriMo Day 14, 15, & 16: Pain

Yes, I am three days behind, but its all good :P

Chapter 14:  Pain

Gurley opened his eyes.  He was still alive.  At least he felt alive.  The old man’s face still burned in the back of his mind.  Shrake was not a man soon forgotten.  

Shrake had bragged to him how he counted success in limbs and appendages.  First with the fingers, then the hand itself.  Then the arm.  Most victims of Shrake and his Krakens did not make it to the arm, giving in once their hand had been removed piece by bloody piece.  Gurley had been lucky.  They started with his busted leg before going to his fingers.  Gurley figured that keeping him alive was of more importance than making him talk.  

Odd concoctions had kept him from passing out during the entire ordeal.  Sticks in his eyelids had forced him to watch the entirety of the event.  Pain was not descriptive enough for the torture of watching one’s own limb being removed.  Yet, the Krakens worked fast on the leg and once the stub had been bandaged and a poultice applied, Gurley seemingly felt better.  He actually felt good.  That is, until they started on his right hand’s middle finger.

Gurley had wondered if the entire castle could hear his screaming.  Shrake’s hooded bastards were more than willing to let his torturous ramblings filter out.  Warnings to the rest of the captives.  Were there captives?  Gurley had been in a feverish state when the castle was taken, so he was not sure of much aside from the fact the Thunderer now held the castle.

The flaying continued through a grizzly procession from finger to finger.  Gurley didn’t talk.  Pain combined with secrets hidden deep within Gurley to create a euphoria which permitted a mental escape.  Gurley took little satisfaction in the fact Orten was feeling all of this.  It was probably driving him crazy, wherever he was, and no doubt he was cursing Gurley’s name with every painful step he took.  

Gurley laughed at the idea that this would continue until the Krakens had removed the last bit of his skin and sent him into the underworld.  Orten would not be pleased with such a turn.  Not at all.  These bastards know nothing of what they were awakening. The thought comforted Gurley.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Gurley really couldn’t decide, the Krakens stopped after the last finger detached from his right hand.  They left the thumb.  With each cut had come another question, met with the euphoric silence that had entrenched itself upon Gurley.  Was Shrake irritated?  It was hard to tell, but Gurley figured not many were able to not talk to Shrake.  The satisfaction sat like a cask of ale in Gurley’s gut, warming him on the thought of what awaited him when he awoke again.

However, in his dream-like state fear had started to creep upon Gurley.  His bandaged stub of a leg and the neat wrappings being dressed unto his hand were too well done.  The torture was excruciating, but it had stopped.  Sharke may have been irritated at the silence, but he hadn’t really shown it.  Then the realization caught up with Gurley.  This wasn’t for him.  It was for Orten.

***

The small skiff beached itself as the wave crashed onto the beach of the small island.  The storm had visibly weakened in the glances Orten had caught as he slipped in and out of consciousness.  The moon lit the area enough for Orten to drag himself out of the skiff and make his way into a cluster of trees.  His right hand throbbed as he clutched it to his chest.  He laid his head back and breathed a deep breath.  A burst of fire leaped from his chest and shadows danced down the beach.  Rain sizzled as it clattered off Orten’s skin.  He slipped back into the blackness with the thought of freedom ringing in his ears.  When day broke, it would be glorious.  The Flamerunner awakes.

***

Enlil had begun tracking time based on the meals served him and the shifting of the guards outside his door.   It was mid day when the washer boys brought by his cleaned doublet and captain’s vest.  To his surprise, his feathered officer’s cap was also returned.  He had not hesitated to change into the clean change of clothes.  The comfort was immediate.  If only he had a blade to clean the scruff of beard that had grown about his face.

The hard rap of a knuckle on the door broke his moment of escape.  He put his feathered hat on the table and walked to the door.  The toothless grin of one of the guards stared in at him through the tiny window.  “Dress up Captain.  We like a good show for an execution.”

Word count: 13,835

NaNo WriMo Day 13: Revelations

Chapter 13: Revelations

The crimson star was emblazoned on the dirty white of his breastplate.  The guardsman stood alert and proud of his station.  Hard work and loyalty had earned his trusted place at the sides.  Loyalty that meant death if broken.  

His name was William, but as far as anyone knew he was You.  You there as fingers pointed.  You by the door as he stood by the door.  You seemed to fit him well.  He did not need a name.  William the guardsman was a silent, obedient man.

He had found himself situated inside the Thunderer’s main chambers this evening.  He knew this meant sensitive talk was going to be had.  Talk that only occurred in the confidence of trusted men.  Talk that also meant a chance of violence.  William had dressed the part; drab in understatement. He needed no ornament on the handle of his sword for the sharpened blade hiding within the sheath to do it’s business.  The daggers tucked in the small of his back stood backup.

It wasn’t long after he was positioned that the procession came in, lead by the women.  William took note of this.  It was unlike the Thunderer to play second fiddle.  William knew of the Fravashi, but had not had the privilege of meeting them.  Yet, there was no doubt who the women were.  They were followed, closely, by the Thunderer who took his customary seat at the head of the table.

Following the tall man came a shorter, older man covered draped and hidden within a blackened robe.  His demeanor was disconnected, uncaring.  William knew him well:  Shrake of the Krakens.  William did not care for his presence, but did not deny the value of the information he so often collected.  Still, the man disturbed him deeply.  Evil creature.

The next party to enter the room was that of an envoy from the King.  The crimson stars on bright white gave way to neatly cropped hair cuts and

The last group William did not know anything about, which meant he needed to find out everything in the short time it took them to get to their seats.  Their shorter height was the first clue they were not midlanders. Olive skin meant westerner, from the islands of the jade sea.  Odd dress-like garments covered their bodies, buttoned up the center with large wooden buttons.  Ornamental hair pieces adorned their hair, most with which appeared to collect in a hornlike structure at the back top of the head.  No visible weapons.  William didn’t relax.

A traditional meal of lamb and root vegetables was served.  Conversation flowed freely among the varied groups.  The foreigners spoke mixed dialect that stuck their home language of the island nation with that of the main lands.  The letter h seemed to present a challenge however.  William took note of this.  Either they had been on the main land for some time or they were attempting to play the part.

Midway through the meal, William noted one of the foreigners favoring a single side.  William did not let the alarm show in his face.  He waited for the shift in position to come with the guard opposite him.  As he crossed to the other side of the doorway, he discovered the reason for the favor.  The man’s hand appeared to be missing, replaced by a wad of bandages.  The wrappings looked fresh, possibly hiding something?  William didn’t venture to guess and stored the information in the forefront of his mind.

After the meal was finished, the envoy from the King did not wait to start addressing their concerns to the room at large.  They started in immediately with taxes from the new Alban holdings and provincial domain the Thunderer had taken on his travels down the eastern coast.  The Thunderer was visibly uninterested in the conversation, nodding agreeably with the majority of the statements.  

William noted Shrake peering out from his cavernous hood towards the foreigners.  At first it was little more than looks, but then William noted it moved to a savage monitoring.  William pieced it together when the man with the bandaged stump of an arm winced at Shrake’s stare.  William was disturbed by the revelation, but again showed no change in his stature or face.  

After the tax discussion ended, the King’s envoy excused itself from the table.  Their crimson clothes flowed out of the room, splitting the two guardsmen.  William counted their departure, four out the door.

The Thunderer broke the silence left by the envoy’s departure.  “Your boy there did a hell of a job.”  The Thunderer thumbed towards the man with the bandaged hand.  “Quite well considering the years he spent under the watch of good old Orten Ben Fareen here in this dump.  My apologies for his hand.”  The Thunderer paused as if waiting for acknowledgement of the apology.  He continued, “and of course for any disgraces from my men.  Clydas knew not of the arrangement and Shrake.  Well Shrake and the Krakens just do what is asked.”

The foreigners didn’t respond.  In turn they stood and bowed in the direction of the Thunderer and then again towards the Fravashi.  William counted off their paces to the door, thirteen.  He counted as the party left, four.  The Fravashi and Shrake remained with the Thunderer.

Once the door swung closed and the footsteps faded into the far hall, the six women spoke as one.  “The Flamerunner comes.”  The Thunderer eyed the women and then Shrake.  A nod from Shrake confirmed the statement.  “Let us make preparations then.  I suppose he will want that brother of his back.  Shrake I do hope your lovely boys left him in one piece.”

Word count: 13,038

NaNo WriMo Day 12: Findings

Chapter 12: Findings

Thump, thump, thump.  The steady pounding of drums beat like the wings of a bird announcing the arrival of something.  Enlil did not care to guess at the identity of those arriving in the castle as the thumping echoed about the inner confines of his holding room.  His white doublet had been recently washed and felt brisk against his skin.  Leather chaps clung tightly to his legs.  Sandals replaced boots lost to the sucking sand of his prior prison on the beach.  He paced from wall to wall, thinking.

The Thunderer wanted something from him, something that was not apparent until after the successful siege of the castle.  At first Enlil had not caught onto this fact.  He awoke every day, groggier than the last.  His mouth would be parched dry as if he had spoken for hours.  Yet, he bared no recollection of any talking outside of a few crude jokes thrown at his gaolers.  

It was on the third day, or what he ascertained as the third day, that he discovered the powdery substance on his food.  Tact was taken to carefully place the substance where it mixed best with the liquids of the meal, clearly added after the meal had been prepared.  

On that third day some of the powder had managed to stay suspended; afloat on a pool of rendered fat among some chopped and roasted root vegetables.  Enlil opted not to partake of the vegetables that day and instead dumped them in a hidden alcove behind the high-backed chair.  

His keepers seemed none the wiser and when the Thunderer arrived that evening for questioning, the change was immediate as Enlil sat quietly opposite the taller man.  “You are very quiet this evening Captain,” the conversation had started.  The talk died quickly before the Thunderer saw himself out, whispering in the ear of one of the jailers on his way down the hall.  The door had swung shut before Enlil could make anything of the whispers.

The next day, Enlil hid his entire meal along with the previously discarded vegetables in a bundle of clothing passed to the washer boys.  However, that night when the Thunderer visited Enlil spoke openly.  Unsure of where previous conversations had wandered while he had been under the influence of the powdery substance, Enlil tried to be truthful enough to be believable.  It seemed to have worked as the pair discussed details about the Alban procedures at the camp, but the Thunderer clearly guided the conversation. Enlil felt that he filled in enough new information to deflect his ruse.

However, abruptly during the conversation, the  Thunderer announced he had business elsewhere and that “I will miss our conversations Captain.”  The door clicking shut behind the the man as he left sounded like the final hammer blow on the nail’s head of the coffin that was Enlil’s confinement.  Better here than the beach Enlil thought to himself.

Enlil ate his entire plate of food at each meal the next day.  On the next day he awoke clear headed and energetic.  It was clear the Thunderer had seen through his guise, but why not send the executioner to finish this?  Why spare him now after the treatment in the camp and on the beach?

Had he awoken with the grogginess associated with the powdery substance the thumping of the drums would have driven him mad.  His pacing continued from wall to wall, before he changed to the door and table.  The rhythmic flip flip of the sandals about his feet combined with the steady beat of the drums set his mind at ease.  

On a pass nearer the door he overheard the guards speaking.  On his first pass of the conversation he made out the word “women”.  The second pass revealed “dresses”.  By the third pass “storms” and “cursed” filtered through the small inset opening in upper half of the door.  This meant only one thing: the Fravashi had returned.

***

Clydas dragged Jacco down the steps by his tightly knit horn of hair.  Ornamental beads pattered in cascading hops down the stairs as the ornamental ties broke in the knot of hair.  The staircase had been found at the backside of Orten Fareen’s quarters, hidden cleanly behind the linen closet.  The biting sound of axe on wood sounded in the background as the men accompanying Clydas proceeded to disembowel the room.  Clydas was not pleased Jacco had chosen to hide this from him.

“Tis is all.”  Jacco pleaded with Clydas.  “I swear.” The whole situation had turned on Jacco. Gurley had not cooperated as he intended.  The man’s busted legs slowed had slowed him down.  Far to slow.  The siege was practically on the castle as they had arrived.  Jacco should have just killed the sorry excuse of a man right there and fled.  Yet, Jacco knew that would have been disastrous.  No, not disastrous.  It would have meant his death.  Better to let the foolish midlander that was so fond of being called the Thunderer meet the fate that lay at the hands of Gurley’s killer.

Jacco wondered if the Krakens had finished with Gurley yet as he eased himself into the corner nearest him.  He was careful to avoid putting weight on his right arm as his own time with the Krakens had left nothing but a knob of a wrist covered in bandages.  They were, if anything, thorough in their craft. He should have accepted the tainted food.

Jacco sighed a sigh of relief as Clydas lost interest in his misery in favor of the oaken drink casks lining the walls.  Stacked in rows three high, two deep, the entire room was filled with orderly rows.  Actually, he couldn’t quite believe it had been this many.  This was a lot to have been carried through that secret door in Orten’s room.  What was this stuff anyways?  It clearly wasn’t wine or ale.  Clydas was happy at the find, but Jacco knew it wasn’t the happiness of a drunkard.


Word count: 12,088