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Date: Friday, 26 Sep 2014 18:41

I’ve written before about how useful I believe the bittorrent protocol is, and today I wanted to share something with you guys that you may not have known about (I’m pretty with it, as the kids say, and I didn’t even know about this until a couple of weeks ago): Bittorrent Bundles. The BT Bundles are all legal, official, and released by artists to promote and share their work with their audience. Instead of paying for server space and bandwidth, artists seed files, and let the bittorrent community do the rest.

You can find tons of bundles at https://bundles.bittorrent.com/. Here’s Moby’s Innocents, De La Soul’s Smell the Da.I.S.Y, and Thom Yorke’s newest solo work, Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes . Most of the artists release a couple tracks for free, with the option to pay them for the full album. These are incredibly fast torrents, too, because so many people seed them.

Whenever someone tries to argue that torrents are just for piracy, I show them the BT Bundles, because it’s such an effective way for artists to promote themselves and share their creations with their audience.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "Web/Tech"
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Date: Tuesday, 23 Sep 2014 19:16

This weekend, Anne and I went to Portland for Rose City Comicon. While we were there, we visited my sister and her family, saw a strange ball of fire in the sky that I don’t usually seen in Portland, and had an absolutely fantastic time at the convention.

I took a bunch of pictures, and I think they tell the story of the weekend very well, so this is mostly a picture post. I’m going to put the rest of this behind a jump, so my blog doesn’t take forever to load.

Welcome to the other side of the jump. We have cookies.

So my sister took us to this landmark that she really wanted us to see:

Wheaton Lane

Anne and I got a little excited about it.

We taught my nephew that he should always be himself, unless he can be Batman.

What that picture doesn’t capture, unfortunately, is how my nephew started the whole thing by posing with his arm out, and going, “ARRRGGHHH!” When we put the Batman masks on, he knew exactly what to do.

And this is pretty funny to me: after we did this, his dad (who is Dallas Cowboys Super Fan Number One) gave him a Cowboys football, and told my nephew, “take that to uncle Wil!”

My nephew looked at it, handed it back to my brother in-law, picked up both Batman masks, and gave them to me.

This kid gets me, and I am a very proud godfather.

Later, we went to dinner. S and I spent a lot of time examining the menu. He ordered the chicken, and I had about 600 pounds of sushi.

We didn’t play with our food, but we did have a whole lot of fun together.

Wil and S.

He’s a really great little guy. He’s just turned two, and though the last time we visited the twos were terrible, they were terrific this weekend. I just love my godson, and I love how happy he and his parents are together.

Anne and I walked a whole bunch while we were in Portland, because it wasn’t infinity degrees outside like it has been in Los Angeles. Here’s my favorite bridge in a city with a lot of great bridges:

Steel Bridge

Steel Bridge has some really great history. It also has some sad, but beautiful graffiti on the East side.I'm so sorry. I love you. N9NA

I'm so sorry. I love you. N9NA We, of course, went to Voodoo Donuts so Anne could take care of some very important business.

We also went to Powell’s, so I could pick up a couple of books that I need (yes, need.) Because I just finished Prisoner of Azkaban, I got Goblet of Fire, and I also picked up Broken Monsters, based on this review at NPR.

We didn’t have as much time as I wanted while we were in Powell’s (we never do), but I had a bit of a revelation while I was walking the aisles there. I love bookstores and libraries the way some people love the beach, or the mountains, or a museum. When I’m in a bookstore or library, I feel like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, that the only world that matters — well, worlds that matter — are contained within its walls, between the covers of the books that line the shelves. When I’m in a place like Powell’s, that has tons of used books that go back decades, I can find and hold and look at and lose myself in the covers and stories that remind me of my youth, and pretty much any time in my life that I care to touch again.

Stephen King says that writing is a form of time travel, and I’ll take that a step further: a bookstore or library is a portal to anywhere in the multiverse; it’s Sigil made real.

I told Twitter that, while it’s convenient to order books online, going to a bookstore and finding a book is an experience. I love that experience, and I don’t want to live in a world without bookstores and libraries.

After Powell’s, we went to a shoe store for Anne … and left with two pair of fancy new shoes for me. I love them, especially because — and I actually said this out loud — I really like the way they make the cuffs of my pants break. #smh

Because that wasn’t enough, we then went to Nordstrom, where I bought pretty much all of my Fall wardrobe. Oh, and I had nitro cold brew coffee from Stumptown and it was amazing.

Normally, when I visit Portland, I consume a swimming pool full of delicious craft beer. This time, I didn’t have any beer at all, because I’m on a “don’t drink very much alcohol and keep sugar to a minimum” diet ahead of Tabletop, and also because the bar in our hotel had some of the best pre-Prohibition cocktails I’ve ever had in my life. It turns out that I’m crazy for something called a Vieux Carre, you guys, and this one bar made the best one I’ve ever had. It made sticking to Project: Drinks Just Have One very difficult.

So on to the convention, then. I took almost all of last year off from the convention circuit, because I was starting to burn out after 2012, and I needed to spend more time working on new things than I was spending promoting old things. With the Wil Wheaton Project coming to an end (fear not, fans of the show! I hear that the network is trying to do basically the exact same show without me, and I’m encouraging them to hire the same staff, so hopefully you’ll get your weekly dose of Skeletor back sooner than later, which will be awesome for all of us) I had an opportunity to attend Rose City Comicon for the first time.

This con was wonderful. It was big enough to bring in a wide variety of creators, actors, artists, and merchants, without being so huge that it was overwhelming. I met a ton of super creative people, including some truly outstanding cosplayers. Behold Sparks McGee:

Sparks McGeeThis amazing woman also cosplayed as the Glow Cloud from Welcome to Night Vale.

ALL HAIL THE GLOW CLOUD There was this fantastic Ash crossplay:

THIS IS MY BOOMSTICK

I was so excited about this woman’s costume, I shared it with Twitter. Of course, creeps were creeps, and someone complained that she was holding a Winchester Rifle instead of a shotgun. I have to admire Twitter’s ability to completely miss the point of everything so consistently.

R2-D2 was there, disguised as L3-G0:

This one is for the handful of people who are with me in the Venn Diagram overlap of Physics Nerds, Avengers Nerds, and Beatles Nerds.

Thor with Maxwell's Silver Mjolnir

I wish I could hide spoiler text here, so you can solve it for yourself, but since I can’t … oh! Just put your mouse over the next picture if you want to know why I love this cosplay so much.

Maxwell's Silver Mjolnir

Genius, right?

Finally, everyone in the world is on notice: you need to step up your cosplay game after this couple did this:

Team Cawkes

I was very happy to see these signs everywhere, but also sad that they needed to be everywhere.

Cosplay is not consent

I made a bunch of Cards Against Humanity cards, as usual:

IMG_20140920_185357 IMG_20140921_102432 IMG_20140921_113834 IMG_20140921_144849 IMG_20140921_151122 IMG_20140920_141928 IMG_20140920_141838 IMG_20140921_103334

I have no idea what that last one means.

I saw that Wesley Crusher is back … in POG form.

Wesley POGs

I got a wonderful, handcrafted Sparks McGee.

Plushie Sparks McGee

And I got to have my picture taken with two of my heroes:

NARF

I saw a family who named their team after me:

It's the Wesley CRUSHERS.

And I got to take a duckface selfie with Kelly Sue DeConnick, who is not only one of the most amazing writers I know, she’s also one of the most amazing human beings I know.

Duckface with Kelly Sue

You may notice that our respective spouses are photobombing us, which is kind of wonderful.


So that was my weekend, and it was great. I got to spend quality time with my family, got my geek on at a convention, and met tons of really great people. I haven’t left a convention feeling so rejuvenated in a very long time. I usually feel exhausted at the end of a show, but Rose City Comicon was so positive and enthusiastic and awesome, I actually felt like I gained back some mana and hit points while I was there.

I’ll probably keep my convention calendar light again next year, because it really is important to me that I write and create more stuff, but if Rose City will have me back, I’ll do everything I can to attend.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Books, Travel"
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Date: Sunday, 14 Sep 2014 19:39

In a few hours, I’m hosting a conversation with Randall Munroe, the creator of xkcd, author of the awesome book What If? (I hear the audio version is pretty great), and a really great guy who I am privileged to call my friend.

Of course, the first time I met Randy, it didn’t go very well for me, which is the subject of this post From The Vault, In Which I Fail A Vital Saving Throw – originally published in August, 2008.

It was the end of the day, and my blood sugar was dangerously low. Colors and sounds were louder than they should have been. My feet and legs had been replaced by two dull, throbbing stumps that barely supported the weight of my body.

Most of the day, I’d been signing autographs for and talking with countless excited fans. Some of them shook my hand too hard and too long with a sweaty grip that trembled a little too much. Some of them stared at me uncomfortably. Some of them rambled incoherently. All of them were genuinely friendly, though.

I took it all in stride, because I’ve done this convention thing for — my god — two decades, and even though I don’t think I’m anything worth getting excited about, I know that it happens sometimes, and I know how people occasionally react. I never laugh at them or make them feel lame. I never make jokes at their expense. I am understanding and grateful that they want to talk to me at all. I wouldn’t want to talk to me if I was trapped with me in an elevator, and I certainly wouldn’t be excited about the prospect if faced with the option. I am always grateful, and take nothing for granted.

A voice boomed over my head, blasting right through my eardrums and exploding inside my skull. The convention floor was closing, it announced, and it was time for all of us to get the fuck out.

Red-jacketed security guards emerged from shadows I hadn’t noticed during the day. A handful at first, then a dozen, like zombies pouring through a breach in a barricade. They shambled forward relentlessly, single-mindedly driving a mass of exhibitors and straggling fans toward the doors.

I picked up my backpack, inexplicably heavier than it was before I emptied pounds of books from it earlier in the day, and heaved it onto my shoulders. My back screamed.

“You have to vacate the hall,” a girl said to me. She couldn’t have been older than eighteen, but clearly wasn’t going to take any shit from anyone, especially someone in my weakened state.

“I’m on my way,” I said. I turned to say goodbye to my boothmates, and saw the unmistakable visage of Jeph Jacques walk past behind them.

I’ve done this convention thing for a long time, so I knew that it was unlikely that I’d have a chance to say more than three words to Jeph before the convention was over. If I didn’t seize the moment, I probably wouldn’t get another chance. I smiled at the girl, faked to my right, and spun to my left around her. I nearly fell over from the effort.

“Hey . . .” she began. I took two quick steps away from her with my last bits of strength.

“Jeph!” I called out. He kept walking. He’s done this convention thing before, and, like me, knows that when someone calls out your name at the end of the day it’s best to pretend you didn’t hear them so you can just get the hell out of the hall and to a place where you can recover your hit points. This place is usually called a bar.

“Jeph! It’s Wil Wheaton!” I called out. I don’t know Jeph well enough to call him a friend, but we’ve talked at shows before, and I’ve always enjoyed our limited interactions. Maybe if he knew it was me, and not some random person, he’d stop so I could say hello. Maybe he wouldn’t want to talk to me if we were trapped in an elevator, but I knew the security guards were closing in, and if I could get into his Circle of Protection: Exhibitor, maybe I could stay there for a couple of minutes.

He stopped and turned around. He smiled wearily, and said hello. We shook hands, and I noticed that he’d been walking with someone.

“Hey, have you ever met Randall?” He said.

His companion turned to me and extended his hand. My brain screamed at me, “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THAT’S RANDALL MUNROE! BE COOL!”

Before I knew what was happening, my hand shot out from my body and grabbed his. I incoherently babbled something about how much I love his work. He tried to say something, but I just. kept. talking.

My brain screamed at me, “SHUT UP! YOU’RE MAKING A FOOL OF YOURSELF YOU ASSHOLE!”

My mouth, however, was out of my control. I continued to ramble, vomiting a turgid cascade of genuinely-excited praise and gratitude all over him.

A full minute later, I realized, to my abject horror, that my hand was still shaking his. I held it too hard in a sweaty, trembling hand. Darkness flashed at the edges of my vision, and I felt weak. I pulled my hand back, a little too quickly, mumbled an apology, and shut my mouth.

They said things to me, but I couldn’t hear them over my own brain screaming at me, “GET OUT OF THERE YOU COCKASS. YOU HAD ONE CHANCE TO MEET RANDALL MUNROE AND YOU BLEW IT! I HATE YOU! YOU GO TO HELL NOW! YOU GO TO HELL AND YOU DIE!”

A hand fell on my shoulder. I turned toward it, and saw the security girl.

“Sir, you need to leave the hall.” She said. “Now.” She had backup: a pair of similarly-aged teens, two boys working on their first mustaches. They fixed me with a steely-eyed gazes.

I have never been so relieved to be kicked out of anyplace in the world as I was then.

“I guess I better go,” I said. I took a short breath, and lamely added, “it’s really nice to meet you. I really do love your work.”

My brain did the slow clap.

His reply did not penetrate the wall of shame I’d constructed around myself, though I clearly recall that he didn’t make fun of me, or make me feel stupid, or let on that I was a sweaty, shaking, raving lunatic. He didn’t appear to be grateful that we weren’t trapped in an elevator, though I suspect he must have been. As I fled the hall, I was grateful for his kindness, patience, and understanding.

Once outside, I went to a place where I could forget my appalling embarrassment.

That place was called a bar.

 

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, From The Vault"
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tidepools   New window
Date: Friday, 12 Sep 2014 01:29

Anne and I were standing at the edge of some tidepools, watching tiny fish swim around in them.

“They look just like little versions of the fish we see on the reef,” I said.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what they are,” Anne replied. A wave crashed against the rocks nearby, and the water near our feet gently rose a few inches. As the tide ran out, it created a small current between two tide pools, drawing some new fish into the one we were watching. They swam around together, like they’d always been there.

“You know how I like to think about nature being really simple?” I said, “like how it just repeats little things over and over again to make bigger, more complex things?”

“Like when you talk about fractals?” She said. Another wave hit the rocks, splashing brilliant white foam into the air.

“Yeah, sort of, ” I said. “So let’s look at these tide pools, and consider that the fish who live in them have no idea that, just a short distance away, is the entire ocean, and it’s filled with giant versions of themselves.”

“It’s not necessarily a short distance for them,” she added.

“Dammit. You’re right. That messes this up a little bit, but go with me for a second.” I put my hand into the water and the fish darted away. “These fish may not even know about the fish one tidepool over, separated by a few inches of rocks, unless the tide pushes or pulls them there.

“So. Imagine that we are in this tidepool, and we have no idea that there’s a huge ocean just a short distance away. Or imagine that something is looking at us in this tidepool, and we have no way at all to even perceive that they are there.”

“Woah.”

“Right? And the tidepool can’t exist without the ocean, and the tides can’t exist without the moon, and the moon can’t exist without the Earth, and the Earth can’t exist without the solar system…”

She looked at me, and I trailed off.

“I’m just saying, I think it would be neat if we humans could get out of our tidepool, someday. I’d like to see what’s on the other side of the rocks.”

She clasped my hand in hers. “Let’s go for a swim,” she said.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Travel"
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Date: Wednesday, 10 Sep 2014 22:07

When I was a little kid, playing Star Trek on the playground (I always ended up being Spock), I had no idea that less than a decade later it would become a fundamental part of the tapestry of my life.

Forty-eight years ago this week, Star Trek premiered on television. Something that happened six years before I was born would end up changing my life forever, and that’s a very strange thing to think about, especially when you know how hard it is for anything to get made in television, especially something good.

As I’ve written in my books, my long relationship with Star Trek has been complicated, and not always awesome, but I wouldn’t trade anything for it, because I love my life, and the people in it.

To celebrate Star Trek’s birthday, I’d like to share a story I wrote about when I had to say goodbye to Next Generation for the last time. It’s in my book The Happiest Days of Our Lives (audiobook link), if you’re interested in owning it.  It’s called The Big Goodbye.

the big goodbye

When we were teenagers, my friend Terry said to me, “You’re a pretty big geek, and you’re part of the biggest geek phenom- enon in history…but you hardly ever talk about it. How come?” It was true. I didn’t talk about it very much. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it, or didn’t think it was cool, but when I was with my friends, the last thing I wanted to do was talk about work. That reluctance persisted until I wrote “The Saga of Spongebob Vegaspants—or, how I learned to stop worrying and love Star Trek” in late 2001 for my book Dancing Barefoot. That story and this one bookend a time in my life that was so significant to me, I—well, I’ll just let you read this, and I think you’ll understand why.

Last week, I went to Paramount to film some host wraps for a Star Trek: TNG DVD documentary, and I discovered that the old cliché is true: You can’t go home again, especially when your home has been torn down and replaced with sets for a Farrelly Brothers movie.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been to Paramount since Wesley Crusher turned into a magic ball of light and floated out into the galaxy to fight crime and save amusement parks from evil developers with The Traveler. In Just A Geek, I wrote:

I found myself at the Melrose Avenue guard shack, half an hour early for my 8:30 a.m. call time.

ID, please,” the guard said.

I pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet and gave it to him.

And where are you going today…” he looked at my license, “Wil?”

 

I’m working on Star Trek,” I said.


Enterprise or Nemesis?”


The Next Generation, I thought.
“Nemesis,” I said. “I play Wesley Crusher.”


He looked up at me. “Oh my god. You are Wesley Crusher!

You look so…”

Washed up?

…grown up.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s been a long time.”
“Do you know where to park?”
“Yeah. But I don’t know where our dressing rooms are.” But I do! I do know where our dressing rooms are! They’re

trailers on the street in front of stages 8 and 9. Mine is filled with Warhammer 40K figures and GURPS books. It’s right next to Brent’s trailer. It’s 1989, and I’m back. I’m back home.

When I worked on Nemesis several years ago, returning to Paramount to put on the uniform and immerse myself—if only for a day—in Wesley Crusher’s goofy grin and wide- eyed excitement (I wrote at the time that I couldn’t tell where Wesley ended and I began), it was an emotional experience. I felt genuine regret for not appreciating Star Trek more when I was on the series every day, which morphed into a general regret that when I was a teenager, I acted like…a teenager. Some of Just A Geek is about this, and the catharsis that came from writing it is a large reason why I was able to accept and embrace my small role in the Star Trek universe.

I went to Paramount last week to go onto our old stages and walk a camera crew through the Guardian of Forever into 1987. I didn’t expect to be particularly emotional. I was wrong.

I live in a different part of town now, and while it’s faster to go through Silverlake and across Beverly, I wanted to put myself in a place where I’d be most receptive to emotional sense memories, so I added twenty minutes to my drive and went down the 2, up the 5, across Los Feliz and down Western before cutting across Sunset to Van Ness. I took this route every single day, once I got my driver’s license (and a license plate frame on my Prelude, the one that was just a little better than Patrick’s, that said “My other car is the Enterprise”— awesome), and at one time could probably do it with my eyes closed. I told my iPod to shuffle my ’80s Alternative playlist, and after an hour of Boingo, Depeche Mode, OMD, Squeeze, and The Smiths, I was, as they say, really feeling it when I pulled up to the guard gate on Melrose.

I turned down Only a Lad and rolled down my window. “Hi,” I said, “I’m Wil Wheaton, and I’m going to Stage 24 for the Star Trek documentary.”

The guard, who was probably in elementary school when I was piloting the Enterprise, nodded.

May I see your ID, sir?”

Though I’m “sir” to a lot of people these days, it was bizarre to hear it in a place where I was used to being “The Kid” or “The Boy.” I pulled it out of my wallet and handed it to him.

Okay, you’re all set, Mr. Wheaton,” he said. “Just pull up to the valet there. I’m sure you know your way around here?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I do.”
He handed me back my ID and leaned down toward me. “We’re not supposed to do this, but I’m a big fan,” he said,

conspiratorially. With anyone who really was a big deal in Hollywood, he was probably risking his job.

Really?” I said. “You seem a little young for TNG.”


He grinned. “Not Star Trek, your blog.”
This took me completely by surprise. I have been so busy

with other writing projects that I haven’t been able to give my blog the attention I want. I’ve frequently considered putting it on hiatus for a few months.

That,” I said, “is totally awesome. Thank you.”

He smiled and then looked over his shoulder at the other guards. He turned back to me, nodded tersely, and waved me onto the lot.

I traded my car for an orange ticket with some numbers on it and headed toward stage 24. A few minutes later, I walked past the Hart building, where TNG’s writers and our fearless leader Gene Roddenberry lived while I was on the series. I stopped for a minute and looked at what had been Gene’s first- story office window. I was hit by a machine-gun montage of all the times when I walked past that window and he called me in for a visit. I looked at the empty spot on the sidewalk where Gene’s golf cart used to be—the same one that I frequently got into trouble for racing around the backlot. I felt the first of many tugs at my heart.

Oh boy. This is going to be one of those days, I thought, as I pulled myself back into the present and walked to stage 24 to meet the crew.

Glad you could make it, Wil,” the producer said, as my eyes adjusted from the brilliance of the day to the darkness of the empty stage.

Me too,” I said.

I looked around for a moment. Something about this place was incredibly familiar.

Hey, you know what I just realized? I shot Family Ties here right before I started Star Trek.”

Really?”

Yeah, I was cast as Tina Yothers’ boyfriend. I only did one episode before I booked TNG, but the word on the street at the time was that Gary David Goldberg was going to write me in as a recurring character before I went into outer space,” I said. “And, uh, the future.”

The stage was completely empty, except for a couple of work lights and the bleachers where audiences once sat. This stage, once filled with laughter and the energy of filming “live, before a studio audience,” was now little more than an empty room. My whole life, I’ve been in love with the magic that goes into creating the suspended disbelief of movies and television, but it wasn’t until I stood in that empty stage that I fully appreciated the effort that went into transforming 12,000 square feet of soundstage into the Keatons’ lives for eight years.

So I thought we’d head over toward stage 9,” the producer said to me, “and we’ll shoot our host wraps in there.”

Wait.” I said. “You mean we get to walk into stage 9?” 105

Don’t get too excited,” he said. “There’s nothing left from Trek in there.”

Though I knew that there was no way they’d preserve our sets for twenty years, and though I knew that someone else would eventually move into our stages, just as we’d moved into the original series’ stages, I still felt a little sad.

Nothing at all?” I asked. It was a stupid question. Of course there wouldn’t be anything there. But like a kid who just learned that Darth Vader was just a guy in a suit, or that KITT didn’t really talk, I had to ask again, just to be sure I hadn’t somehow misunderstood the cold hard reality.

They’re building sets for some reshoots on a Farrelly Brothers movie,” he said, “so we’ll just shoot outside.” I was struck by how blasé he was, which shouldn’t have sur- prised me. How could I expect anyone else in the world to have the same emotional attachment to those stages as I did?

Well…okay,” I said.

The crew got the camera and sound equipment together and loaded it on a cart that looked heavy and awkward.

Do you know a fast—and preferably easy—way to get over there from here?” the camera man asked me.

I didn’t fight the smile. “Yeah. I do.”


We headed out of the stage and back past the Hart building. “See that window?” I said. “That used to be Gene’s office.” “Mmmm,” came the reply.

Nobody is going to care about these things like you do, I thought. Just keep it to yourself.

I looked at the window just a little bit longer. I recalled watching Shatner’s infamous “Get a Life” sketch on 3⁄4-inch video tape in Gene’s office with some of my friends who worked there during the second season.

A few Trekkie VIPs were there on a tour, and they watched it with us. (In the pre-Internet days, it was not very easy to watch that sketch on demand.) At one point in the sketch, Shatner says, “That was the evil Captain Kirk from episode 37, ‘The Enemy Within’…” and all of the Trekkies derisively snorted, in unison, “YOU MEAN EPISODE FOUR!” I looked at my friend, who very subtly shook his head. These were Big Deal Trekkies; pointing out that they’d just brought the sketch into the real world would have created some problems.

Back in the present, I laughed out loud, and a couple of the crew looked at me. “Memories,” I said.

I led them across the lot, on a route that would appear circuitous to anyone who didn’t work there for the better part of four years. On the way to the stage, I passed the same familiar and significant landmarks from my youth that I wrote about in Just A Geek:

That’s where I met Eddie Murphy when I was sixteen… Hey! I crashed a golf cart there when I was fifteen…There’s the mail room…There’s stage six, where the bridge set started out…I almost got up the courage to kiss that girl at the Christmas party on that stage in…there’s the stage where Shatner told me, “I’d never let a kid come onto my bridge.”

The next line in Just A Geek is, “…this street feels exactly the way it did when I worked here…here’s where my trailer used to be…”

Though I stood in that same place, it didn’t feel the same at all. Different trailers were there, filled with different actors working on different shows, but that wasn’t why I just couldn’t deny that twenty years had passed since I started working here. Maybe it was the knowledge that Star Trek is really gone for good, at least the way I knew it. Maybe it was the pain in my hip…or the responsibility on my shoulders. Maybe it was the fact that I have two sons who are older, and more mature, than I was when I started working on the series. Most likely, it was a combination of all those things.

I walked a bit farther, to the entrance to stages 8 and 9. In the hallway between them, where our security guard stopped tourists and Trekkies from coming onto the sets, where our bulletin board for callsheets, shooting schedules, and my brief foray into editorial cartoons used to be, there was now some sort of big, loud…something, with a fan and a bunch of pipes running out of it. As much as that behemoth should have prepared me, I was just gutted when I opened the stage 9 door. Instead of seeing the back of a turbolift and a corridor leading to the transporter room and engineering, I saw a bunch of sets under construction: sets that were quite clearly houses and other rooms squarely from the 21st—not the 24th—century.

Wow, I thought. It’s all…gone.

I stood in that open doorway for a long time and stared, working hard to replace the reality inside the stage with the memories inside my head.

…ready?”


I’m sorry, what?”


Are you ready?” the producer asked.


Uh, yeah.” I reluctantly let the door close.


It’s too loud here to shoot, so we’re set up behind the stage,” he said.


I followed him down the street, past where my school room—what was effectively my entire high school experience—used to be. There was a production golf cart for Everyone Hates Chris there now. I lingered briefly, fighting the urge to take one more golf-cart joyride.

Moments later, we were set up in the alley behind the stage, just outside a giant open door. I looked inside. Where Sickbay used to be, there was a set that looked like a child’s room. Where the holodeck once stood (and where all the shuttlecraft interiors were shot), there was a large drop cloth and a several cans of paint. Where Picard used to command the battle bridge—one of my all-time favorite sets—there was a tropical backdrop.

I sighed and blinked back some tears.


Everything okay?” the producer asked.


Yeah,” I said. “I’m just overwhelmed by a sadness right now that I can’t really explain.”

I understand,” he said. “This happens whenever we work with someone from Next Generation. I don’t know what it was about you guys, but every single one of you loved each other and remembers working on the show very fondly.”

I didn’t know that,” I said, around a lump in my throat. “But I’m not surprised. I…I really miss those guys.”

For the next few hours, we filmed host wraps. I told sto- ries about my time on Star Trek to anyone who would listen, and a few who wouldn’t.

In front of stage 16, I recalled an encounter with Lawrence Tierney (best known as Joe in Reservoir Dogs), who played holodeck tough guy Cyrus Redblock.

Hey,” he said to me one afternoon between scenes. “Do you play football?”

I was 15 and weighed 95 pounds…if I was soaking wet and carrying a ten-pound weight.

Uh, no,” I said.


He leaned into me, menacingly.


Why the hell not? What are you, some kind of sissy faggot?”


I panicked, certain that he was going to beat the shit out of me because I was more comfortable throwing 3d6 than a pigskin.

I’m not strong enough to play football!” I said.

Well, maybe you wouldn’t be so weak if you played foot- ball!” he growled.

An assistant director arrived just in time to call us to the set and save me from certain death.

Everyone has their own story about Planet Hell,” the producer said, pulling me back to 2007, “but yours is the first one that includes a fear of death unrelated to atmospheric smoke.”

Boy, we sure like to complain about that smoke. Did you know it was mineral oil-based?” I said.

After all the cast interviews I’ve done over the years, I know everything in the world there is to know about that smoke,” he said dryly.

Now it was my turn to laugh.

When the day was over, we headed back to stage 24, where they were set up to interview Ron Moore.

How’s it going?” I said to him when he walked into the stage.

It’s weird,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve been here in years.”

He looked around and his voice softened. “Did you know there aren’t any writers left in the Hart building? Brannon is moving out, and he was the last one. It’s just a bunch of accountants right now.”

That’s poetic,” I said.


He looked away for a moment and furrowed his brow. “It’s just…I look around here and—”


I know.” I said. “I totally grok.”

We talked for a few more minutes, until they were ready for his interview.


I will kick myself later if I don’t tell you how much I continue to love Battlestar,” I said before I left. I didn’t get up the nerve to add, “And I’d really love to work on it if you have anything for me, because it’s just about the best sci-fi on television, ever.” Later on, I kicked myself, and delivered one more to Jenny and the wimp.

It’s always good to see you,” he said.


Thanks, man. You too.”


I shook hands with everyone and said goodbye. When

I got out of the stage and walked past the Hart building, I stopped and looked at Gene’s old office window one last time. Though I’d said goodbye to Gene at his funeral in 1991, I said goodbye to him again—and to so many other things.

On my way back to the valet, I walked past the commissary, where I ate grilled mustard chicken with curly fries a few times a week during much of the series. I remembered a day during the third season, when I didn’t have a lot of cash on hand and no credit card, so my server got severely under- tipped. I planned to make it up to him the next day, but when I walked in, he silenced the entire commissary by running toward me from the back, screaming at me for stiffing him the day before. It was the first and last time in my life I wanted someone to be fired for the way they treated me.

Strangely, I still feel bad that I unintentionally stiffed the guy. Funny how those things stay with you and come back when you least expect them to.

Just past the commissary, where there used to be a company store that sold T-shirts and satin jackets celebrating the wearer’s affinity for Cheers, there was now a smaller company store that included a Coffee Bean. I stepped into the same room where I used to pick up really cheesy TNG t-shirts and insanely cool tiny communicator pins for my friends and family, and I bought myself an iced green tea.

I made my way back to the valet, where I traded an orange ticket with numbers on it for my car. While I waited for it to arrive, I struggled to put the nostalgia and associated sadness of the day into perspective. I didn’t mourn the loss of my sets as much as I mourned the time in my life those sets represented: a time when my biggest responsibility was knowing my lines and getting to the set on time, not coming up with college tuition for the next four years. A time when KROQ played music that was relevant to me, and I knew all the DJs. A time when my biggest problem in the world was getting out of costume and makeup early enough to make it to the Forum for a Kings game. A time when my life was simpler and easier, when I had the luxury of taking for granted that I would always have everything I wanted and my opportunities were as numerous as the little mirrored stars on the black velvet starfield that hung behind Ten Forward on stage 9…stars that are, most likely, cut up into hundreds of little bits to be doled out at auction for the next decade.

But, complicated as it is, I really like my life. I have a beautiful wife and two children who, though they don’t carry my DNA, are clearly mine in every way that matters. I’m not going to be buying a boat any time soon, but I have been able to touch lives as a writer in ways that I never could have when I wore a spacesuit, just reading the words that other people thought I should say.

The valet brought my car around, and I gave him a couple bucks from my front pocket.

Thank you, sir,” he said.

Goddamn, it’s weird to be “sir.”

No problem.”

I got in my car and headed toward a red light on Van Ness, where a big decision loomed: Turn left and drive back over Los Feliz, the way I always used to drive? Or make a right and head down across Beverly?

Luckily, this was an easy one. I hit my blinker and began my voyage home.

 

 

 

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Television"
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Date: Wednesday, 10 Sep 2014 18:19

While looking for something in my documents folder, I came across this in an old drafts folder. It looks like it was written in winter about five years ago, and I’m not sure if it was ever published, but even if it was, I like it enough to repost it today.

I stayed up until almost one this morning, reading comic books.
I know, it’s like I’m 12 all over again. And it’s awesome.

Around four, Anne woke me up.

“What’s wrong?” I said, while I was still waiting to clear immigration between Dreamland and Reality.

“Nothing. I just couldn’t sleep, so I got up and went outside to watch the meteor shower. It’s really cool, and I knew you’d want to see it.”
I sat up, pushed the covers to one side, and ignored the grumbling protests of our dog, who had just lost his primary source of warmth and cuddling.

“It’s cold out, though, so put something warm on.”

I grabbed a hoodie and put on my totally-not-lame-but-always-make-me-feel-self-conscious-to-wear-them slippers. I walked through the dark house, past the quiet and strangely comforting hum of my aquarium’s filter, and out onto our patio.

I know it’s cliché, but the stars were brilliant jewels against a field of black velvet. Betelgeuse was a brilliant red. The Orion Nebula was bright and fuzzy. Sirius, in Canis Major, was such a bright blueish-white I couldn’t look directly at it. To the North, Ursa Major dominated the sky, and I could even see Mizar without any effort. Back on Earth, a distant train’s whistle sounded from far away, probably from the train yard near Commerce.

“You just missed a fireball,” Anne said, quietly. She pointed to the Eastern sky and added, “and there have been tons of little flashes from over there, too.”

I wrapped my arms around myself to stay warm and let my eyes roam across the sky. I didn’t see any fireballs, but I saw lots of meteors fly across the sky, greenish and yellowish trails flashing then fading behind them.

Maybe it’s because I wasn’t entirely awake, or maybe it’s because I’d been reading about mutants and other worlds before I went to sleep, but as I looked up into the sky, toward Castor and Pollux, I really felt, for the first time in my entire 38 years on this planet, the overwhelming vastness of the universe.

Where I have always felt awe, I felt small. Where I have always felt inspiration, I felt vulnerable. “I’m on a planet, spinning on its axis, racing around a star, moving faster than my mind can comprehend, through that,” I thought. “And right now, that planet is flying through an ancient asteroid debris, bits of dust and rock smacking into its atmosphere like bugs against a windshield.” I felt a little freaked out.

I’ve quoted Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot so many times, I don’t need to look it up anymore to get it right, but last night, looking up into the enormity of the universe, it was suddenly more than poetry and a reminder to take better care of each other.

I moved closer to Anne and put my arms around her. She leaned her head back against my chest and we looked up into the sky together, watching faint meteors streak across the sky every few seconds.

“I’m glad you woke me up,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the fireballs,” she said.

“Nah, it’s okay. I didn’t need to.”

The train’s whistle sounded again. This time, it didn’t seem so far away.

We stood there and watched the sky for several minutes, until our hands and feet were numb with the cold, and went back inside.
When I got back into bed, I pulled the covers up over my head, and tucked them around myself as tightly as I could. It took a long while for sleep to reclaim me.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog"
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Date: Saturday, 06 Sep 2014 19:22

I thought it would be cool to show the world how your support of Team Wheaton helps make awesome things happen at the Pasadena Humane Society, and what better way to show you that than by getting a tour from Seamus and Marlowe?

If you’d like to to help us help PHS help animals, and get a really awesome 2015 celebrity pet adoption calendar at the same time, everything you need to know is right here.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog"
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Date: Friday, 05 Sep 2014 18:13

One of the great joys of my life, the hobby that relaxes me and keeps me sane when the world is threatening to turn me into a pile of goo, is homebrewing my own beer.

I document all of my homebrew adventures at my homebrew blog, the Devils Gate Brewing Company, but this bit of news is so exciting to me, it’s getting its very own post right here on the mothership.

Northern Brewer and I have teamed up with Stone Brewing Company to make an official homebrew version of w00tstout!

w00tstout-homebrewThis is an official recipe for w00tstout, converted to homebrew specs with the help of Stone Brewing Company’s brewmaster, Mitch Steele. It is released with the blessing of all the collaborators, and I can’t wait to make it myself next week. It’s available in both extract and all-grain kits.

This is a huge beer, and not something I’d recommend for a first time brewer (if you’re looking to get started in homebrewing, you can get your feet wet with my #VandalEyesPA 1-gallon kit).

 

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Food and Drink"
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Date: Wednesday, 03 Sep 2014 21:36

This is our dog, Seamus:

Seamus Wheaton

Seamus is part of our family because we walked him in the Wiggle Waggle Walk a few years ago. The Wiggle Waggle Walk is an annual fundraiser for the Pasadena Humane Society, and a few years ago after our dog, Ferris, died, Anne and I formed a team to raise money for pets in her honor and memory. Readers of my blog contributed so much, our little team shot to the top of the contributor’s list, and PHS asked us to walk a shelter dog at the event, as a thank you.

Seamus was that dog, and we adopted him about a week after we met him.

Two years ago, Anne and I were at PHS to see how the expansion they were building at the time was going (as donors, we occasionally were invited to see how our money was being spent). While we were there, a staff member brought a beautiful little pit bull puppy who I immediately fell in love with. We adopted her a week later. That little puppy is now fifty-six pounds of snuggle named Marlowe.

But if I sit here, I can haz it!

Marlowe and Seamus quickly became the best of friends.

Seamus Wheaton and Marlowe Wheaton are buddies

Here’s Marlowe, on her first Wiggle Waggle Walk:

Here’s our oldest dog, Riley, who says I’M A DOG!

I'm a dog!
I’m a dog!

We had so much fun at the Wiggle Waggle Walk, and PHS has brought so much joy and love into our lives, we’ve made it an annual commitment to give back, by raising as much money as we can to help them help animals.

Last year, Anne put together a wonderful celebrity pet adoption calendar to help raise money for Pasadena Humane Society, and to encourage people to adopt pets instead of buying them from breeders.

Here’s the video I helped her make for it:

Lots of people loved the calendar (if you own one, you get to see us with our dogs all this month!) and we ended up raising a little over $50,000 for Pasadena Humane Society.

This year, she did another calendar, with all new people, like our friends Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting, Ed Brubaker, James Gunn, Tricia Helfer, and my space mom, Gates McFadden.

Here’s the video I helped her make for the 2015 calendar:

If you’d like to get one of your own, and help us help PHS help animals, go to teamwheaton.org and make a contribution of $40 or more.  We cover all the costs with our foundation, so 100% of your donation goes to PHS. We will ship worldwide, and we can only offer one per household, because quantities are limited.

Thanks for supporting our team, and thanks for helping animals!

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog"
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Date: Monday, 01 Sep 2014 19:01

I’m in official pre-production mode for Tabletop Season Three, so I’ve been looking at tons of games (seriously, thank you for all the suggestions), and playing as many of them as I can with my friends, or on my iPad (Suburbia on iPad is pretty much perfect, if you were wondering).Idea that I’m putting here, so I don’t forget: include information about tablet versions of games that we play on the show, if tablet versions exist.I’m also beginning to look at indie RPGs, because we had such a great time playing Fiasco. So far, candidates include:

  • A Penny For My Thoughts
  • Monsterhearts
  • Durance
  • The Quiet Year
  • Carolina Death Crawl
  • Microscope
  • Dread

I don’t know if we’ll be able to make any of these work (Dread has player elimination, for example), but I just love GM-less storytelling games, and I think Tabletop is the perfect place to show them off, because most of the people who come to play with us are inherently good storytellers.I’m interested to hear your thoughts on Indie RPGs that fit with this bunch, and also if you’d like to watch us play some of these. Keep in mind that we’d be able to, at most, split it into two episodes, which means we’d have to play a satisfying session in about four hours.

As before, please leave your suggestion here, so it’s easy for me to find. Also, publishers and writers: please don’t use this as an invitation to mount a campaign to get me to play your game.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "Tabletop"
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Date: Friday, 29 Aug 2014 19:04

A massive hurricane is currently tearing up the ocean just off the coast of Mexico, and the surf here in Southern California is huge. Waves between fifteen and twenty feet have been common, and on Wednesday, Anne and I went down to the beach to see them for ourselves, and take a long walk along the sand.

School has just started, so there weren’t many people down there. Parking was easy, and after a quick walk across the hot sand, we got to the edge of the water. We stood there for a few minutes and watched enormous waves explode into foam, before the ocean seemed to completely flatten out into deceptively serene beauty between sets.

We walked about four miles down the sand, and another four miles back. We shared a meatball sub for lunch, and a little after 2pm, we got in the car to head home.

We were about a quarter mile from our house when my cell phone rang. I vaguely recognized the number, so I picked it.

“I have [Syfy Network Executive] for you,” a disinterested assistant said.

“Okay,” I said. The line fell silent, and I knew that my work with Syfy was over.

“How are you?” He asked me.

“I’m fine,” I said, honestly. “I just got back from a nice long walk with my wife, and it’s been a pretty great day.”

“Well, I’m about to make your day less great,” he said. Then, he told me that Syfy will not be ordering more episodes of The Wil Wheaton Project.

He assured me that it wasn’t the quality of the show. He told me again and again how much he loved it, how funny he thought it was, how much he liked me, how much he wanted to find other things to do together.

Ultimately, he told me, the executives in New York just didn’t think we had enough viewers to justify more episodes. I didn’t say anything about the total lack of promotion off the network, or point out that our ratings were on par with The Soup, or that ratings are always lower in summer than the fall. I didn’t  bother saying any of that, because I know he knows that. I was reasonably confident that he made those arguments with New York when he was trying to get the show renewed. I presume he fought hard for us, but ultimately couldn’t sway executives in New York who never seemed — in my opinion — to really understand what kind of show we were doing, who I was and why I was hosting it, and how to engage with and promote to the audience who would like it.

I thanked him for the call, thanked him for the opportunity to do a show that Syfy had never tried before, and sincerely thanked him for all his creative support. He’s a good guy in an industry full of bad guys, and I genuinely enjoyed working with him. I know that he’s trying really hard to put the sci-fi back into Syfy, and if anyone can do it there (which is going to be incredibly difficult, I think), he’s the guy who can make it happen.

I hung up the phone, and told Anne that we weren’t being renewed.

“How do you feel about that?” She asked me.

“I’m really okay with it,” I said. “I’m super sad that I won’t get to work with my writers and producers, and I’m sad that we don’t get to keep writing jokes, but I did everything I could to help the show succeed. I promoted it the best way I could, I worked hard to write stuff that was funny, and I tried so, so, so hard to get the network executives in New York to understand how they could help the show succeed.

“I can only do so much, and we didn’t get a lot of promotional support. I did everything I could, and I’m proud of the work we put on the screen. On the one hand, it’s a shame that they stopped us right when the show was hitting its stride, but on the other hand, we went out with some great episodes.”

I’m disappointed that I won’t get to keep working with people I really like and respect. I’m sad that we won’t get to do more silly segments like How Will They Bite It? and Skeletor Reads Angry Tweets. I’ll miss the scarecrow most of all.

I’m grateful, though, to the people at Syfy who believed in us and gave us a chance to succeed. I’m grateful for the creative support we got, and I’m grateful that I got to spend my summer working with wonderful, talented, funny people. I grew a lot of levels in comedy writing over the last 18 weeks or so, and I owe it all to the amazing people I got to work with.

I had made a decision the day we wrapped the show, that I was going to be okay whether Syfy picked us up, or not. I can honestly say that I am really okay with where I am today. I’m looking forward to doing Tabletop and our upcoming RPG show. I’m looking forward to writing more stories, getting excited, and making more things.

Thank you to everyone who watched our show. Thank you for your kind words, and for being part of a pretty great summer.

Until next time: Play more games!

Oh, and let me just stop this before it starts: we nerds have a penchant for letter-writing campaigns and stuff to try and save shows we like. Please don’t do that here. It’s not going to happen, and we should instead put that energy into something else, like getting #butts to trend.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Television, The Wil Wheaton Projec..."
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Date: Friday, 29 Aug 2014 01:12

I don’t know why I didn’t show up in the original photo, probably because I was using my magical powers to not appear on film. Here’s how it should have looked.

Star_Trek_Selfie_FIXED

And anyway, I think this one is the best one we took:

Star_Trek_Selfie_THE_REAL_ONE

Yep. This is a totally real thing that really happened.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog"
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Date: Thursday, 28 Aug 2014 20:49

I’ve combed through hundreds and hundreds of suggestions (and nearly 2000 comments holy crap) since I asked what you’re interested in seeing us play on the next season of Tabletop, and I have come away with a lot of great ideas.

At the moment, we’re looking at about 60 games. That list will be narrowed down to about 20, maybe more if we do a combo episode of a couple of mini or micro games.

A lot of FAQs popped up in that thread, so I’d like to point anyone who is interested to my episode of Not The Flog, where I talked about how we choose games for the show, why we simply can’t play certain games, and some games I freaking love, but simply won’t work for our format.

Finally, a quick note to publishers and designers: I know you’re enthusiastic about your games, and I know a lot of you would like us to play your games on our show. However, encouraging people so basically spam me with your titles isn’t helpful, and actually ensures that I won’t play your games. This is a giant bummer for everyone, because you may have a game that I’d genuinely like to play, but I’ll never even try it, because the spamming was so annoying and unhelpful.

A quick note to players: if you genuinely love a game, let me know, and let me know why. That is helpful information that us useful and welcome.

Okay, thanks. Back to it.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "Tabletop"
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Date: Monday, 25 Aug 2014 22:49

Anonymous asked:

Second Season of Wil Wheaton Project. Yes or No? I hope SyFy channel has the foresight to keep it going.

So for those of you who don’t know, earlier this summer, I did 12 episodes of a silly comedy show on Syfy called The Wil Wheaton Project. It was basically The Soup for people like me who enjoy sci-fi, fantasy, and horror, as well as jokes about those things. If you’d like to see a bunch of clips from the show, they’re right here on my YouTube thing.

We’re officially on hiatus right now, and we don’t know if the network will order more episodes. I know that they liked us in a creative sense, but the ratings weren’t very good (ratings are generally not very good in summer, and while I don’t believe that ratings are as important as they once were, my opinion on the matter isn’t particularly important to the decision makers), but the people who did watch us really liked us. So I won’t know for a few more weeks, but until then, I’m on hiatus, which means I get to write more, play more games, and prep for season three of Tabletop, which goes into production in October.

Part of that preparation includes finding 20 games to play on the show, and as of today, I have eight (maybe nine) that are strong contenders.

What do you want us to play on the show next year? Would you tell me the game, the publisher, and why you like it?

Keep in mind the criteria for Tabletop game selection:

  1. Plays well with 4 people.
  2. Plays in under 90 minutes.

  3. Can be generally explained in about 5 minutes.

  4. Has a high ration of luck to strategy, so everyone has a chance to win the game.

  5. Looks great, has clear graphical design and photographs well.

  6. Is not something we’ve played before.

I’d love to hear your ideas in the comments.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Tabletop, Television, The Wil Whea..."
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Date: Monday, 18 Aug 2014 20:08

Last night was the first night in almost two weeks that I haven’t had a series of horrible nightmares that woke me up at the end of every REM cycle. I woke up this morning next to my dogs (Anne is still in New York) who seemed as happy to snuggle next to me as I was to snuggle next to them.

GenCon was, on balance, awesome. I played some fantastic new games, spent some great time with friends, and ate a couple of fantastic meals. The only bummers were a day of fucking awful anxiety that threatened to keep me in my hotel room, and a single person (out of hundreds) who was a dick to me when I explained that I can’t stop to take pictures because it draws a crowd and then I get pinned down in one place, unable to enjoy the convention.

There’s lots going on right now that I want to write about, and being on hiatus from The Wil Wheaton Project should afford me time to sit at my desk and be a proper writer for the first time in months, but today I am home, and  I need to rest and reload my HP and Mana.

More to come.

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Date: Sunday, 10 Aug 2014 19:58

So last night my wife and her friends went out to dinner, and I stayed home for a quiet evening alone with my dogs, a homebrew, and ​Akira. If you haven’t seen it, and you like anime, science fiction, cyberpunk, or some combination of those things, I highly recommend it. In the US, it’s streaming on Hulu Plus, and the Blu-Ray is amazing.

This is the movie that introduced me to anime, way back in 1988 or 89. I remember buying a bootleg VHS at a comic convention, which had a photocopied paper wrapped around the outside, entirely in Japanese. One of my friends said he had heard it was a great movie, so I dropped the twenty bucks or whatever and picked it up. When we got home, we put it into the VCR (kids, ask your parents – it was like a streaming media server that only served local files to a single device, off of very inefficient, removable storage medium) and watched.

It wasn’t dubbed, it wasn’t subbed, and we had absolutely no idea what was going on, but we loved it. In 1988 or 89, there just wasn’t anything like this movie. We had Voltron and Robotech and Battle of the Planets, and they were all pretty awesome, but the breathtaking beauty of Akira was unequaled. We watched it over and over again while we played tabletop games, until we wore out the VHS. We invented some sort of story, where Kaneda and Tetsuo were fighting the espers for some reason, and were eventually defeated by them when Akira is reborn. I remember finally seeing it with subtitles in the mid-90s, and being blown away by the story that was actually being told, which was quite a bit more interesting and complex than the one we’d made up.

I loved Akira so much, it lead me to Ghost in the Shell, all of Miyazaki’s movies, and unintentional hentai (boy, it sure was a shock to us when we picked up a thing called Demon City, only to discover that it was all about tentacle dicks fucking everything in the world. I don’t recall the story, but I can clearly recall how we were all traumatized but unable to look away from it.)

I don’t keep up with the world of anime now, because I have too much other stuff to keep up with and not enough time for everything, but I will always have time to watch Akira.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, movies"
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Date: Wednesday, 06 Aug 2014 19:51

Two video posts in one day? I must be going craaaaaaaaaaazzzyyy!!!!1

Alright, settle down.

So earlier today when I was avoiding doing something productive, I came across a video on Reddit of an octopus escaping from a boat. I adore octopuses (I have a large tattoo of one on my arm), so I watched it. Then I read the comments and came across this fantastic video called True Facts About The Octopus. If you have five-ish free minutes, I highly recommend watching it. In fact, when people ask me why I have an octopus tattoo, I’m just going to tell them to watch this video, because it covers how fucking hardcore and amazing the octopus is.

Oh, and get this: I didn’t know until I went to YouTube to grab the embed code that this was made by internet legend and Ur-vlogger Ze Frank! Now I have to do actual work so I can reward myself with viewings of his other True Facts videos.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "Science"
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Date: Wednesday, 06 Aug 2014 16:30

We made a thing for last night’s Wil Wheaton Project, and I think it’s pretty great.

As of today, we have one episode left. We won’t know if Syfy is going to order more episodes for about 5 or 6 weeks. We all need the break (it’s a lot of work to make this show, and I think it’s safe to say that we’re all feeling a little worn out), but I’m sad that we’re going to take the break now, when I finally feel like our show is firing on all cylinders.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Television, The Wil Wheaton Projec..."
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Date: Tuesday, 05 Aug 2014 21:31

My sound guy, Matt, helped me take off my mic. My wardrobe stylist, Kristin, helped me out of my jacket, while my makeup artist, Molly, handed me a wipe thing to get my makeup off my face.

Anne stood up from the audience and said, “we have something for you.”

“Dude, I don’t want anyone making a big deal about my birthday,” I said, “especially at work.”

“Well, it’s too late. I got you Batman cupcakes.”

From behind the green screen, my stage manager, Roger, handed me a chocolate cupcake with a batman cookie on top of it. It was pretty awesome.

“Holy shit that’s amazing and I’m so glad you did this!” I said. “Please don’t sing.”

“Nobody is going to sing. We also got enough cupcakes for the whole audience and crew, too,” Anne said.

I turned to the audience and told them. Someone shouted out that they knew, because they’d been let in on the secret while I was changing my wardrobe earlier.

I walked out the stage door, and saw boxes of cupcakes set up on a table. For the next few minutes, I thanked every person who came to the show, and handed them a cupcake and a Sharknado toy that our friends at Funko provided to us to give away. My crew and the show staff gathered around and wished me happy birthday, Kristin gave me some Star Wars Vans, Molly gave me some craft beer, and my writers gave me a card that was accompanied by even more beer. My people just get me, you guys.

After I changed into my normal clothes, Anne and I drove up to Santa Barbara — well, Anne drove while I drifted in and out of sleep — to spend a couple days for my birthday. Traffic was surprisingly light, and we got to our hotel early enough to watch the gorgeous sunset over the Pacific Ocean. We had a wonderful dinner, shared a fantastic bottle of wine, and fell asleep before 10pm.

12 hours of sleep later, we woke up. After five exhausting days at Comicon and a taping of The Wil Wheaton Project, I finally felt rested.

“Happy birthday,” Anne said to me as we stretched and tried to convince ourselves that getting out of bed was a thing we should probably do.

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s totally my birthday.”

“All day long!”

We had breakfast, and then took a long walk on the beach. There weren’t too many people out, and most of the people who were there had adorable dogs running around. Anne and I are dog people, so we got to stop several times to throw a ball or scratch a scruffy neck.

“You know what I think would be awesome?” I said, as we reached a sea wall a couple miles away and began our walk back to the hotel. Before Anne could answer, I continued, “I think we should go to the spa and get massages.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had,” she said.

“I know. I’m kind of amazing.”

We got back to the hotel,found out that we could book into the couple’s massage room, and got 80-minute massages in a beautiful room with windows open to the ocean, the sound of gently breaking waves carried in on a soft ocean breeze.

After our massage, we went back to our room to get ready for dinner … but first I had to take a nap, because when you’re 42, that’s how you spend your birthday.

I woke up two hours later, and got ready for dinner, which would be at one of my favorite restaurants in town. I looked for my nice shirt in the suitcase, and discovered that, in my exhaustion a day earlier, I had forgotten to pack it.

“I’m not as amazing as I said I was earlier. I forgot to bring my nice shirt.”

“It’s okay,” Anne said, “the restaurant isn’t fancy.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you.”

“I don’t care how you look,” she said.

“Even if I look like a hobo?” I said.

“You can’t look like a hobo, because you also forgot to pack your hobo bindle.”

“Dammit!” I pulled on a black t-shirt that was at least more appropriate than the Tabletop T-shirt I had been wearing.

We got to dinner, and it was awesome. I had all the food I wanted, and the restaurant even gave me a chocolate souffle with a candle in it, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY WIL written on the plate in chocolate. I’m always excited when someone spells my name correctly, and then I was even more excited when I found out that they knew how to spell my name because the servers were fans of The Wil Wheaton Project. I blew out the candle, and wished for the show to get picked up for more episodes, because I love working with the people who make it happen.

We went back to the hotel, watched the show I’d taped the day before, and almost immediately fell asleep afterward. We slept for another 10 hours, and took another long walk on the beach before we got back into the car to go home.

It was an absolutely perfect, beautiful day. There were some high clouds, and the sun was very warm, but the breeze off the ocean kept us cool. We were so happy and content, we didn’t want to leave, and by the time we got back to the hotel we realized that we’d walked almost eight miles.

On the way home, as we neared Ventura and were about to turn inland, leaving the ocean views to memory, I said to my wife, “This was the best birthday trip, ever. I feel totally rested, completely relaxed, and like I got all my hit points back. I really needed this. Thank you for making it happen.”

“You’re welcome. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Travel"
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Date: Thursday, 31 Jul 2014 23:43

I spent five days at Comicon this year, and discovered a new level of exhaustion and fatigue every day, surpassing the level I’d discovered the day before. By the time I was finally on the train back home, I had reached a point of burn out that I never though I’d experience: I pretty much don’t want to go to Comicon any more, because it’s stopped being fun for me.

Wednesday, we got on a much-delayed train (tragically, a northbound train hit a woman up near Ventura, so the southbound train was delayed by almost three hours) and headed down for Hop-Con at Stone’s Liberty Station. We celebrated the launch of w00tstout 2.0, and tapped some awesome limited collaboration brews, including my own white sage IPA, called the Tao of Sage. Much fun was had, and I drank as much beer as I’ve ever had in my life. I’m not sure how it got away from me so quickly (I suspect it was the 13.5% w00tstout on cask with s’mores) but my wife had to literally roll me into bed, because I sort of overdid it. Lesson learned, I woke up Thursday morning without a hangover (Anne says she kept giving me water) and vowed to institute Operation: Beer Just Drink One for the rest of the con (a quest I completed, I’m happy to note).

Thursday night, we did w00tstock 6.0. It was a great show, with some standout performances by Mega Ran, Marian Call, and Thomas Lennon. Craig Ferguson even came by to make jokes.

I always want to perform something new at w00tstock, but I’ve been so busy with The Wil Wheaton Project, I haven’t had time to write anything that isn’t specifically for the show. I had some stuff in my pocket that hadn’t been performed for w00tstock before, though, so I went with my story Blue Light Special, from The Happiest Days of Our Lives. It felt like a little bit of a cheat to me, but the audience loved it, and I had a hell of a good time performing it.

After the show was over, we tried to go to the Geek & Sundry lounge, but upon discovering that the rest of the world was there, in a room that I’m fairly sure was 500° Kelvin and 812% humidity, we ended up going back to our hotel, crashing into bed, and sleeping for almost 10 hours.

This was a theme for me at Comicon this year, and it’s probably the only reason I was able to survive it (emotionally and physically): I didn’t stay up too late, I didn’t overdo anything, and I made sure that I got to sleep as much as I needed, on every night that it was possible to do that.

Friday morning, I went down to the convention center and actually went inside for the first time. I was a surprise guest on the Big Bang Theory writer’s panel, and we showed a trailer for the imaginary film Serial Apeist 2: Monkey See, Monkey Kill. The audience loved it, and they really seemed to be happy that I was there, which made me feel good.

Friday night, I took a crew from The Wil Wheaton Project to Syfy’s Sharknado 2 party, where we made some funny stuff together. Some of it made it into this week’s show, if you’re into that.

Sidebar: How much fun was Sharknado 2?! I love that everyone in the film’s universe just accepts that there can be a massive shark-infested weather event, and then stuff happens. I also noticed that, according to some Twitter thing, I was the second most prolific Sharknado 2 Twittering person, behind the official account. I’m, uh, I’m not going to try to pretend that I’m not proud of that.

Saturday, we went back to the convention center, where Anne did a signing at Cupcake Quarterly, a really cool nerdy pin-up magazine that our friend publishes. After dropping her off, I tried my best to get through the con floor to visit some of my friends, and this is where I discovered that, maybe, I just can’t enjoy Comicon like I used to.

I realize that I’m on television every week, and even though that audience is smaller than we all hoped it would be (turns out promotion off the network is kind of important), that audience is maybe, um, oversampled at Comicon. There’s also the whole Big Bang Theory thing, and Tabletop is pretty popular with my people … so on the one hand, it was really exciting and awesome to meet so many people who love the shows I make as much as I do, and I tried to take pictures and stuff with as many people as I could, but I quickly learned that there’s no such thing as “just one quick selfie”.  I hate telling people no when they ask, but if I said yes to one person, that person quickly became ten people, and then a small crowd formed. I got a little panicky once, when I was literally surrounded, but everyone I interacted with was kind and understanding, and with the help of my friend Shawn, I was able to make it across the floor to visit with some people I don’t get to see as often as I’d like.

So, before I continue: I know this is a #firstworldproblem and a #celebrityproblem and whatever else you want to say about it. I get that, and I know that from a business position it’s an amazing problem to have. From a human being perspective, though, it’s a bummer, because I couldn’t wander the floor and look at art and talk to comic creators, because whenever I stopped  I got sort of mobbed, even with my friend doing his best to keep an eye on me. I suppose I could be one of those people with a couple of security goons, but that seems even worse. If I do go back next year, I think I’ll have to cosplay in a full mask or something, which is weird, but at least I’ll get a chance to maybe pick up some cool art and books.

After Anne was done signing, I did a quick interview for Rotten Tomatoes, and then we spent a little bit of time at a really nice cocktail party that Bill Prady has every year. Finally, I got to see a lot of my friends all in one place, and that was really nice.

Before we knew it, it was time for the Geek & Sundry panel, which I had to leave early because I had to get up to a theatre a couple miles away from the convention center to perform in the Welcome To Night Vale / Thrilling Adventure Hour crossover show.

“You look exhausted,” Ben Blacker (Thrilling Adventure co-writer) said to me when he saw me backstage.

“I am,” I said, “and I’m soaked through because of the humidity, but I’m really glad to be here for this show.”

I looked around the backstage area, and took in the curtain, the lights, the prop boxes, and all of the things that I only see backstage in a theater. I heard some of the other actors running their lines out on the stage, and flipped through my script to catch up to them.

“I’m so happy to be here, though, because I feel like I’m back in my element as a performer, back where I belong, back where I’m doing actual work, instead of being ‘that guy from TV’.” I wiped sweat off my face and took a deep breath. “It’s like I’ve been doing hundreds of performances for an audience of one for the last few days, and I’m looking forward to doing one performance for an audience of whatever fits in this theater.”

“I get that,” he said.

“I feel like it’ll be rejuvenating,” I said.

“That’s awesome,” he said, “and you’re up on the next page.”

I walked up to the mic and joined the rehearsal. It took me a few tries to find the character, but with the help of Ben Blacker and his co-writer Ben Acker, I brought the omniscient galactic being S’Tonge to life in a way that was incredibly fun and deeply satisfying. And not for nothing, I got to be in Welcome to Night Vale and The Thrilling Adventure Hour on the same stage in the same show, and I never thought I’d get to do that.

When the show was over, I thanked everyone for having me, found my wife, and went back to our hotel.

“I have found a new level of tired that I didn’t know existed,” I said, in the elevator.

“You said that yesterday,” she said.

“I know.” I said.

We went to sleep, and got up early Sunday morning so I could make it to Nerd HQ for a panel with Felicia. After that panel ended, Anne and I were rushed to the train station in a freaking golf cart motorcade — for reals — and a few hours later, were back in our house. The dogs were extremely excited to see us, and even the cats couldn’t pretend that they didn’t give a fuck about us for very long.

I unpacked my suitcase and repacked it with clean clothes, because the next day, Anne took me away for my birthday, which I’ll write about later.

Author: "wil@wilwheaton.net (Wil Wheaton)" Tags: "blog, Travel"
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