The weekend has landed... and taken off again

Ah, Monday morning. Always my favourite time of the week, right after Stick-a-Harpoon-in-my-Brain O'Clock. But I have few complaints, since my 'work' day is cruisey and my weekend was pretty damn good.

Let's go to the sealed court records to debrief you on my wild and wooly Sabbath.

After I finished gloating over the news stories on Saturday morning, I headed off to catcom's to play Exalted. We got a lot more accomplished this session than last, and by 'we' I mean freerider, who did all the talking and schemeing and stuff while our characters stood in the background and looked impressive. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course, and I'm sure there'll be an opportunity for me to flex my character-fu and hog the spotlight time very soon.

We did spend a bit of time after the game talking about direction and interaction, and my tendency to chew up game time with in-character arguments with freerider. A lot of my enjoyment as a player comes from this kind of PC-PC interaction, but it's not something that really moves the game along. So I'm going to try to tamp it back a bit next time.

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Sunday kicked off with another session of my Prime Movers game, and frankly I can't be arsed to put in a cutlink or a big header. Our team of (allegedly) elite operatives plunged further into Nightfang Spire, encountering a whole pile of undead and dangers - the most memorable being a kung-fu mummy monk and a vampiric gibbering mouther stuck inside a long iron pipe.

No subtlety, no interaction, just kick-'splode-sludd-rutch action - and frankly, the strain is starting to show for all of us. It's fun, but it's dumb fun, and even the action junkies of the group are starting to get a bit bored (I think). After we finish this 'story'line, I'm going to put the game on hiatus for a few weeks while I rethink my approach - create some more context for things, develop some interesting NPCs, find some interaction-focused adventures online and so on.

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And then there was the glory of Eurovision.

Sigh.

I would like to present to you the woman I love, this year's incredibly-deserved Eurovision winner - Ruslana of Ukraine, the only vampire barbarian princess cult-leader Europop diva in the world as far as I'm concerned.





I love this woman with a fierce, burning love, at once breathtakingly pure and very very dirrrrrrrty. I want to give Ruslana babies. Not my own, of course, but all she needs to do is point at one and I'll nab it for her.

Ruslana is my goddess. As long as I have't got to listen to her song, which is daft.

Last night's viewing party was small, but much fun. My flatmate R. won the competition to pick the winner and the ultimate loser - he didn't tag poor Norway to get the wooden spoon, but his loser choice (the UK) did get bugger-all points - and was awarded with a copy of This is Sweden Calling, Des Mangan's history of Eurovision. bunnitos won second prize with Ukraine vs. Russia, and walked away with a bottle of red wine.

(I like this whole bribe-people-with-prizes-to-come-to-my-parties thing. May have to make a habit of it.)

We laughed, we laughed more, we gibbered in horror at the cheesy songs, and we cheered like loons when Ukraine (Ruslana my love!) beat out Greece and Serbia. Luvverly fun.

Mind you, Eurovision was a bit dour this year. Too many ballads and dull blokes in fashionable cardigans singing about true love, not enough overinflated models tumbling out of dayglo miniskirts with cocaine smeared across their upperlips. Last year was all politics, but it was funnier, and that's what really matters.

That and the whims of my Slavic goddess, at whose command I will betray all of you to her army of the buffed and boppy undead.

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And now work. Huzzah.