Check out today’s blog post “Talking Multi Engine” over at SL Airmenship. It’s an example of a nice innovation in Second Life flight physics — a simple idea, yet I can’t think of anyone using this idea in a multi-engine plane. Normally, thrust is applied in a central location and sometimes offset left or right as is needed. In this case, they apply force at the engines, rather than the centre axis, so no offset calculation is needed when engine thrust is imbalanced.
Looking around the kitchen, I found some stuff lying around that needed to be used up. Pork chops, veggies, garlic, lemons. You know what they say, when life gives you lemons and pork, make meaty lemonade. And that’s a really stupid saying.
This isn’t rocket science, but I’m bored so I thought I’d take photos and post a kind of visual recipe that I can refer back to later.
- pork chops
- 3 shallots
- 4 cloves of garlic
- 3 green onions
- 2 lemons
- parmesan cheese (optional)
- flour (for coating and as thickener)
- a cup of chicken stock
- salt, pepper
Not everything in Second Life is about the aircraft biz. While testing somebody’s version of my Stingray, I crashed on this tiny island in Okeanos and found a surprise. The Moles, Second Life’s infrastructure builders, installed a whimsical raft with barrels and mugs labelled “lashings of ginger beer”. So I helped my self to a mug and chilled out for a bit as the sun came up.
Fun details like this are why Second Life is so much fun to explore. Around the next corner there could be anything.
Just another random writing exercise. Doesn’t mean anything or go anywhere. Except a bar, at the end. Spoiler alert.
Warning: Contains the F-bomb. Sensitive readers should avert their eyes.
George peered to his left, around the corner, slowly, as if moving slowly would make his gigantic pressure suit helmet less visible. Dust spattered from left to right. Once, twice. In a vacuum, he could see the bullets, but their impact was silent. He retreated from the corner. They couldn’t hit him here, and they were unlikely to change position. But then, neither could he.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot at since he arrived in Luna City. Nobody liked a P.I. snooping into their business. It was, however, his first firefight outside the dome. Just getting winged could make for a very bad day.
Just then, his sandwich buzzed in his pocket. More jets of dust burst to his left. One. Two. Three. His sandwich buzzed again.
Another writing exercise from a café from when I worked on the Victoria and the Secrets website. All characters and events are purely fictionalized. Caution: This post contains strong language.
The summer of ’61 was a long one for Victoria and the Secrets. That was the year that their tour bus — an old VW camper van — caught fire under suspicious circumstances while stopping for gas in San Antonio, Texas. In retrospect, the suspicious circumstances weren’t necessarily suspicious, but highly irregular. While Adrienne and Victoria were inside picking up snacks for the next leg of their trip, Patrick fueled the bus, and somehow completely failed to notice the sudden appearance of several emptied gas cans in the parking lot.
To be fair, gas cans at a gas station aren’t in themselves suspicious, so there was no actual reason why Patrick should have even batted an eye. A nose, though, he should have batted, if it can be said that anyone can bat anything other than an eye, a baseball, or a mobile. Unnoticed as he gripped the nozzle, fighting away the waves of fatigue that blurred his view of the spinning digits on the pump, was a rising smell of gasoline. A smell stronger than usual.