Or, Who Am I, Really?
Dreamed last night that I'd come up with a formula that clearly described how and why time travel is doomed to fail. Section 1 demonstrated how, when traveling to the past and changing it, the "distance" traveled through time on the outbound journey is different from the "distance" traveled on the return journey. The resulting inequality causes the equation to fail, proving that time travel won't work.
Also dreamed that I'd fallen in with a post-apocalyptic scavenger gang, who welcomed me with open arms as one of their own. All that remained was to choose a nickname. Like "Tank", or "Reaper", or "Static", or something. Because you can't be in a post-apocalyptic scavenger gang without some kind of cool nickname. After trying unsuccessfully for several minutes to think of one, I woke up.
So there you have it: In my dreams, I'm clever enough to solve the formula for time travel, but can't come up with a decent nickname for myself.
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Containers, Crows, Systems Administration, and other Eclectia.
Mister Container
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- stutefish
- This is a blog. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
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I know what you mean. I started playing Dragon Age: Origins the other night and flew right through min/maxing my stats, skills, equipment, and navigating the first dialog trees, trying to get through the prologue on my first night. Then unexpectedly I recieved a dog and had to name it... which completely stalled my game for the night. I simply could not figure out a good name for that goddamn dog.
ReplyDeleteI did eventually settle on a name: Zod. I'm sure I'll be frequently yelling at my opponents to "kneel before Zod!"