South Africa and Racial Tension circa 4 April 2010

Yesterday, Eugene Terreblanche was murdered. For those not in the know: he was a reasonably minor, if extreme, political figure, head of the AWB – a political party in South Africa centred on the interests of the Afrikaner populace of our country.

In recent months, a young firebrand political up-and-comer, Julius Malema (who has been billed as a future president by the present incumbent), has been stirring up racial tensions. Most notably, he recently was taken to court for, and was banned from singing an anti-Apartheid struggle song including the line (translated into English): “Shoot the boer, he is a racist”. The ANC later clarified this statement by pointing out that “the boer” in this refers to the apartheid system, but the damage had been done.

Of course, with the murder of Mr. Terreblanche, the iconic boer (Afrikaans farmer), this song has gone from mildly offensive racial slur to something much, much more sinister and morbid.

What We Should Do Instead

Go up to someone of another race, shake them warmly by the hand, smile and offer a greeting. And then go on and have a day marked by not saying anything bad about people of other races.

This evening, at a post-church coffee bar excursion, I conceived of, and proposed the idea of a racial unity march.

South Africa has a long history of mass-activism and marches to fight racial injustice. I feel that a march resonates with the struggle, and says, quite well, “we’re on a razor’s edge, and unless all of us – not just some of us – do something, we’ll end up in a worse position than we were in with Apartheid”.

The truth is that people in this country are still bitter about matters of race. There are people on both sides of the fence that wished that 1994 hadn’t been peaceful – that the whites and blacks of this country (and presumably the indians, coloureds and asians) had escalated tensions to the point of violence.

There’s another truth though: we know that other people are still bitter. We’re aware that it’s justified, or that there’s at least an explanation for it – old grudges, old mind-sets, stuff that you can’t get rid of easily. And because we know this, we can come together, acknowledge that while it may make us uncomfortable, the person standing next to us, whatever their skin colour, ethnicity or culture, is a person, deserving safety, dignity and equal rights.

So I think a march is what we need. To see people from all ethnicities and cultures mixing and standing (well,marching actually) together, saying that we will not give in to racial division, that we may not like, appreciate or even understand each other’s cultures, but we’re learning, we’re getting better, and the spectre of the recent past is large and looming, and we’re devoted to making sure it never happens again. That the mistakes of the past stay there, and that we can move forward.

My Exhortation to South Africa

You know, there’s a lot of pressure to perform as a country. We’re apparently the world’s (or at least Africa’s) best example of racial integration – and we’re not doing brilliantly. We’ve inherited an amazing legacy from Nelson Mandela. The standard has been set, but no-one is expecting us to live up to it: the man is practically a living saint.

But it feels like we’ve largely given up on reconciliation in favour of patriotism to whichever group we most strongly align to. We hold political figureheads up as either terrible examples of human beings (which isn’t fair: no-one is perfect, and politicians are often preyed upon by the media for no good reason – though on occasion this might be relevant and important, but at present the media is providing a soap opera of political intrigue and scandal that just feels tacky), or saints whose every misstep must be justified and defended.

South Africa: we’ve come so far in some ways, but we still have a long way to go in others. Let’s get ready for another push – we’ve met another challenge, it’s time to make a name for the kind of nation we want to be.

I believe in the people of this country. I believe that, with a vision of the kind of unity we want to have, we can do it. I don’t believe it will be cheap, and I don’t believe it will be quick. I don’t think that learning how to say “Hello” in another of our 11 national languages is enough, and I don’t think that merely accepting another person’s difference without understanding it is acceptable.

But I do believe the unity is possible. I believe that the biggest challenge that stands between us and that unity is a belief that we can achieve it. That if we believe, with all our hearts, that we can be the melting pot that every other multi-racial claims to be, then we can truly set the world standard for multi-racial, multi-cultural unity, and this country will have finally become the vision that the heroes of the struggle fought and bled for.

Cheap tricks will not do this. Billboards and TV ads will not do it. BEE, Affirmative Action, no one act of parliament or business will magically make this nation forget past or present injustices, or prevent future ones.

What we need is continual, uncomfortable dedication to meeting one another in dialogue, knowing that there will be differences in values and purpose, but doing so anyway, in order to continuously and slowly dissolve the tensions and keep them away, while maturing and advancing as a country.

Last Words

I have no witty ending, no quotable parting shot, only a desperate desire to no longer feel an alien standing next to a man of another race, to understand and value them as I do a member of my own. And that desire is not only mine: hundreds of thousands, millions across this country feel the same, and are prepared to pay some price: I beg you, for the sake of brotherhood, for the sake of peace, pay the price you can. And when you have reached the limits of the price you are prepared to pay, look again to the vision of a united South Africa, and draw from there the excitement and desire that will help you to continue on, until we’ve reached a point where race and culture are accepted and respected equally and universally in our country.

The iPad, My Weighing In

Okay, so much has been written about the iPad. Sufficiently so that I won’t link to any reviews or the like here: there are just too many. This evening, however, I read Corey Doctorow’s take on the iPad (here) – despite the fact that it was really about Apple and the direction their tech is headed – and felt the need to say something to the world about it.

Firstly, I agree with Corey: the Apple ecosystem is fundamentally closed, and is completely sold out to yesterday’s economic systems for software, shined up and made respectable for tomorrow’s technology. I don’t believe that iPhones, iPads are the technology of tomorrow, nor are they on the road that will inevitably lead to tomorrow.

But they are the tech of today. They can and will (for the next little while at least) hold the marketplace rapt. People will drool over the latest iThing because it is pretty and novel and fulfills a niche in their lives they didn’t know they had.

But the problem with them is the same problem that news sources and software publishers and the MPAA and the RIAA are discovering: that the systems of humanity don’t work for the small people who are technically right, but for the masses who have a feeling – somewhere deep inside – that “technically” right isn’t good enough, and that they are fundamentally but inexplicably wrong.

This could turn into a pro-piracy rant, but I’ll save that for another day. The point is that, today, there is an iPad – a small computer with a touch-screen which can’t be opened, software altered, or altered in any other way - a pay-wall around news content, DRM on software, DRM on music and movies, and so on. And they are, legitimately, powerful forces, and will make massive amounts of money. But tomorrow, when the same things can be acquired free (as in beer and speech), these things will lose impetus, and gradually fade away. Who remembers having to pay for access to meta-search engines, that searched altavista, yahoo, excite, and all those others?

A soap-box, I have not. I’m not going to indulge in rhetoric about how we shape tomorrow, because you and I don’t. Tens and hundreds of millions do, and this blog doesn’t reach them. But even if I did, a voice of opinion and commentary isn’t going to sway folk. Wait for the wallet to vote. Wait for comfort, and functionality, and everything else that actually makes a difference to kick in. DRM was doomed from the start, but that didn’t stop it getting big. Industry pressure and stupid management just amplified the curve of apathy to popularity to deprecation by a few orders of magnitude.

I have no nice way of ending this, so I’ll just apologize for meandering with anti-DRM and closed-culture ranting, and bring this back to a close about the iPad:

It looks stunning. I want one, in the same way as I want a sports car, or a super-model for a wife, or chocolate cake for every meal. I also recognise that it doesn’t satisfy the needs I have, and it will ultimately be a toy that I’ll use for a bit and forget. I don’t much care for sports cars (and would probably put the wrong petrol in and screw up the engine or something), super-models would bore me to heck and stress me out (because MTV tells me their lifestyles wouldn’t go well with mine), and chocolate cake too often would make me a fat lump.

The iPad would be fun and cool and a status symbol, and after a few days would be put on a shelf, then found again a week later, toyed with, then put on the shelf again for months.

Some people run their lives via their cell-phones. I do not. I live mine in a combination of my head, and on a PC. The iPad isn’t enough for me, but holy cow is it pretty :)

Well, If You Insist…

This evening, I went out and had a delicious dinner with friends from church, at a Greek restaurant at Cresta Mall. Well, the lamb shank gravy was a touch more bitter than I would have liked, but otherwise it was great (snarky comment had to be made).

After the meal, we did something that really makes me feel alive, something I do rarely and always brings me immense comfort: the group of us bought ice-cream cones (yay, being a kid again!), and walked through the mall. We made silly remarks about the fashions of the moment (the Russian Gypsy look is in, apparently), shot the breeze, and generally just enjoyed each other’s company.

On the way out, one of the women left me with a parting shot, insisting that I had to write. And who am I to deny a beautiful woman anything? :)

Well, I’ve been thinking about a return to regular blogging anyway. The problems of blogging (time, energy, and trying-to-balance-my-mother-reading-this-with-keeping-it-interesting-and-relevant) are, frankly, lame excuses. I’ve got time and energy for World of Warcraft, and other such cathartic activities, and I generally hold to the conviction that if my mother would be shocked reading something, I shouldn’t say it on the public side of the Internet (of course, my mother being who she is, chances are she’d prefer me writing more dodgy stuff…)

So I’m about to toss a slew of posts up about my life at present. Forgive the spam, and I hope that I can keep this going on for a while…

Five-Fold and Leadership (as opposed to five-fold leadership)

I was pondering, on the drive back from cell this evening, about how a good leader in any field has the properties of all five-fold “office” ministry gifts. Here’s a quick summary, I’ll expand when it’s not 30 minutes after I should be sleeping:

• Pastoral – easy, a leader cares for the people he’s leading. A more modern and forceful take on this is that a pastor takes an interest in the individuals – even if it requires scolding, fighting or pushing people (gently, mind!) past what they think they can achieve.
• Teaching – leaders need to both teach and learn – learn new ways of doing things from those they lead, and teach the existing methods. Leaders who are incompetent in the field they lead rapidly gain a reputation as such, and their reputation wanes, resulting in less effective leadership.
• Evangelism – a good leader doesn’t find a crowd heading in a direction and gets in front of it. A good leader has a vision, drive and a plan. With these, and a bit of boldness, a leader can recruit those who share the vision. A leader who can’t recruit is typically a leader who isn’t forceful or driven enough.
• Apostolic – leadership is a universal trait. A good leader in one field can often be transplanted from one scenario and/or field into another. Leadership which is dependant on scenario often smacks of stagnation and a lack of dynamism – no leadership is going on, you just have a great team who ignore you.
• Prophetic – speaking what is instead of what we perceive is a terribly difficult task for most, but it is essential for any form of leadership. When a team is failing (in their own eyes) and a leader can say with authority and authenticity that this is a short-term problem or something they’ve survived before, the leader is operating in prophecy. Lying and exaggerating destroys the trust this is based on, but so is speaking negatively over the scenario. Work out how to speak relevant truth, and if it can’t be uplifting, then let it encourage towards solving the problem.

*Yawn*. Off to bed, but I’m glad I’ve got this thought down :)

Oh Wow

A blog post!

Life has been pretty crazy lately. I’m currently working on a terribly complicated project for my company that does software development for 1Time airlines. I’ve spent the last two weeks up to my ears in SRS’s and technical specifications, which confirm what I’ve always thought (IS is a terrible, terrible things which only makes software development more painful if the developers are competent, or merely brings incompetence up to manageability if the developers are not).

I’ve been playing in an awesome RPG campaign run by my new DM Guy, and I’ve just recently started one of my own, set in the epic Ravenloft world.

I’m still hating Johannesburg with every fibre of my being, but at least it’s moved from “I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS EVIL PLACE!” to merely never wanting to come back when I inevitably move away.

I’ve had loads of interesting chats with the ChattyDM himself, and he’s thrown me a few bones and dropped my name on a few tweets or blogposts. Thanks Phil!

I’ve been trying to cook and bake as time allows, and I’ve made a few great recipes up – but I’m still struggling terribly to make cafe-grade iced coffee :( I bought a blender JUST for this purpose, but can’t get it nice and thick like I was hoping for.

I’ve been playing old games again, a terrible habit I must stop soon! Neverwinter Nights (original of course!), Dwarf Fortress, and on the console Final Fantasy Tactics A2, and quite a bit of Pokemon – I had a guy at work the other day insist that this is the most astonishing thing he’s come across in a while!

I’m missing varsity, I won’t lie. The freedom, and the time to do what I want to do is a part of it, but mostly it’s the people – people who want to learn, who aren’t just learning to finish today’s task. Of course, that’s an attribute, but I’m also missing terribly all my friends from Grahamstown, my former lecturers, and so on.

But now that I’ve updated you all on my life a bit, I’m going to quickly post something up (I’ve got a few thoughts to share) on my other blog, before messing around a little more. This has been my first non-crazy-busy night in quite a while, and I plan on enjoying it!

Ciao!

Call of Cthulhu ICON Game Account

WARNING - For those of you who actively dislike gore, fighting, and disturbing scenes, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.

I make no promises that this is an accurate transcript - but rather, an account - the best of my knowledge. I've put off telling this tale (or spinning this yarn) for too long, and my memory is cloudy at best.

This is the tale of the Call of Cthulhu game I played at ICON 2009. Before the story can be told, first my character must be explained. And before even that can happen, the scene must be painted.

It is the modern day. The world is largely like what you know of it - only the largest, scariest, most bizarre things are different.
A scientist, studying Roanoke, an old American Indian settlement on an island off the coast of the US, goes missing on a research trip. Particularly, his research focuses on a potential link between the alien "greys" and the people of the area.
Four people who have an interest in the case have a chance encounter, and begin to investigate the mystery.

My character was a young gentleman from Harlem named Lewis Johnson. His story begins with rebellion against authority: firebombing police stations, graffiti, sticking it to The Man.
It was around this time that he realized that he could never out-muscle the government, but he COULD outsmart them. So he became a serial killer.
He was successful in his killing spree - but was continually denied the fame that he desired. He desired the killer nickname, the reputation of fear.
And so Lewis began studying forensics, and the serial killers of history. He eventually read about the infamous Jack the Ripper, and finally discovered the pattern that would make him famous - copycat killing.
Lewis' study of criminals and forensics had, in the meantime, become formal education. Deciding not to chance his luck, he dropped out of the forensics class - but discovered that he did have an excellent way with words - so he transferred his credits, and studied instead to become a hostage negotiator, an area in which he excelled. He successfully graduated, and joined the FBI.
One member of his former forensics class was a lady named Nicolette Farris. One day, when Lewis was coming to gloat over his kills at the local morgue, he discovered Nicolette studying the bodies. Thankfully for Lewis, he was worrying an opera mask and a full cloak (as odd as this would look on the streets of a city), and managed to tranquilize the woman before she could raise an alarm. He then placed her to wake up on the slab, like all the other corpses, neatly arranged.
And so he began terrorizing the life of the investigator of his case - as sport, and as entertainment.
Three years after his graduation from FBI training, and he has never seen Nicolette "outside of character" since. Until he was assigned to this case on Roanoke, where they are paired to discover the truth of the disappearance of this researcher.

The story began with us all boarding the ferry to get to the island. "Us" being the researcher's wife, the police chief of Roanoke island, and the two FBI agents - Lewis and Nicolette.
As we waited for the ferry to leave, Nicolette and I felt watched. Looking around, we noticed someone on the upper deck, with dark glasses, large hat and deep coat staring directly at us. As he saw us look, he bolted. Nicolette and I bolted towards the nearest staircase. I caught up to the suspicious person first, and tackled him to the ground. Nicolette, not knowing what to do, waited for my lead. I grabbed my cuffs, and, to the crowds dismay, declared this man to be a wanted terrorist [I panicked and it was an easy excuse in a modern American setting!]. The crowd immediately reacted in shock and fear. Before anything else could happen, we dragged the man into the only private area we could get on the boat - the wheelhouse.
The other two joined us, as well as the captain of the ferry - who had to be present, to steer the ferry, and continually added racist comments (Lewis and local police chief were both non-white).

The suspicious gentleman turned out to be a member of the Roanoke city council - and damned suspicious too! After a few simple questions, he demanded a lawyer would only respond as such to any line of questioning posed. We were stymied in our investigation, but the researcher's wife, a woman of education, determined that the gentleman was not in a sane state of mind. Nicolette, as a forensics researcher, had enough equipment and experience to do a simple blood test and a preliminary investigation revealed that the man had been drugged over a period of decades using psychotropics. Before we could investigate any further, the man went into anaphylactic shock. We searched his person and found some of the herbal "medicine" that he had been taking, and administered it after determining that he was suffering withdrawal symptoms. We left him, unconscious, to be picked up by members of the local police force and drove in the police chief's cruiser to the site of the researchers disappearance.

We discovered a city, built into a gigantic cave in a rock-cliff. Vehicles and trailers were standing, empty, and a variety of crude buildings dotted the interior of the cave.
We initially entered the main trailer, where the crew had set up and began to search the trailer. Immediately apparent was the mess of video recordings scattered over the floor, marked with dates. The researcher's wife picked up the most recently marked recording, and put it into the video player.
What she discovered was a tape of her husband in... a compromising situation with his research assistant. Outraged, she skipped forward. Her husband, after his indiscretion, left, but shortly afterwards a stunningly beautiful naked woman entered. Before the assistant could react, the beautiful woman kissed her - and she instantly became withered and drawn, eventually, crumbling to dust. At this point, everyone in the trailer began to feel a sense of dread and fear slowly rising.
The police chief, in the meantime, had investigated elsewhere. He discovered an old well, partially filled with debris, and with the sound of running water below. He continued to poke around, and eventually called us out of the trailer. We all came out for air, and took a few moments to regain our composure, before remembering the task that we were on.
We began to investigate the buildings. Most appeared derelict and empty, but one, farthest from the vehicles, housed people - or so it seemed, for we heard a scream as we approached. Immediately, I leapt towards the house, but before I could come near, a gigantic shower of dirt erupted, and a previously hidden plant emerged from a sinkhole, sharp vines whipping towards me! It tore up my chest rather badly, and I just managed to edge away.
Nicolette, armed with a shotgun, and the police chief, armed with an automatic pistol, began to fire at the monstrous plant. I managed to get back up to my feet, and limp back to a nearby building, near where I had placed my backpack. I dug around and found a blowtorch that I had used for some... interesting... reasons, and, without thinking too hard about it, lit it and ran back to the plant. Tossing the blowtorch at the plant resulted in it's immediate immolation - the plant fell dead, lifeless to the ground.
The crying in the building however, continued. Stopping for a minute so that Nicolette could study and clean my wounds, we proceeded inside. Moments after opening the door we realized that the ancient wood was on fire, and the building was likely to be ashes in just a few minutes!
We raced upstairs to discover the missing researcher and an asian lady, both grasping what appeared to be a map, pulling to try to drag it from the other.
Before we could respond, Nicolette dropped the asian woman with a pistol whip. The man, in the mean-time, ran to his wife, but not before carefully rolling up the map. He was met with a slap through the face, and an admonishment for his infidelity.
He explained that the Roanoke indians worshipped a deity named Dagon [I believe I was the only one at the table who had read Cthulhu Mythos stuff before, because I immediately groaned, while everyone else was like "WTF? Who is Dagon - that's Babylonian, isn't it?]. Several hundred years later, they were invaded by an unknown race that introduced a new, demonic god - Lillith. Lillith had since been re-awakened by trespassers (the research team) and had to be killed - apparently, after I asked, gods can be killed with sufficient firepower.

Alright then.

Us FBI folk, being slightly more mentally stable, were prepared to drive off into the sunset. Eventually, we were talked into investigating further by the researcher. While he studied the map further, we looked at what used to be a set of stables. Inside, we found a sack - of some modern material, so it must have been left there recently! The researchers wife opened the bag only to be greeted by the terrible features of Dagon himself! The sheer terror of it all eventually made her snap - she screamed, turned, and ran out through the nearby cave entrance. None of us tried to stop her, for our eyes had caught what hers had not - the statue was made of gold! We dug around and found more mundane treasures, which we left for the researchers to look at later.
[In the mean time, crazy researcher-wife lady, now on zero sanity, heard a voice booming in her head to kill Lillith. She had no choice but to continue to run, screaming, BACK TOWARDS THE CAVE]
Finally, the researcher came to us and showed us that the map indicated that Lillith was *in* the abandoned well. Deciding to be wise and knowing that emergency evacuation might be necessary, one of the researcher's vehicles (a 4x4 with an electric winch and steel cable) was driven next to the well, and it was agreed that a party would be lowered into the well while someone stood on top to haul everyone back up in case of emergency. The researcher insisted on remaining safe and hid in the vehicle.
As the party was preparing to be lowered into the well, the researcher's wife came running BACK into the cave, screaming, run up to the well, started climbing over, tripped, fell, and broke her leg on the debris as the went down. She found herself in a short, dark passageway underground, with water running in a stream next to her.
In the meantime, a short game of rock-paper-scissors resulted in myself staying up at the top, and Nicolette and the police chief going into the tunnel.
I lowered them down, and waited.
[They arrived in the dark tunnel, to discover a squad of fishmen approaching. The police chief recognized them as a race worshiped by the local indian tribes, and understood enough of their croaked speech to make out that Lillith was behind a door at the end of the passageway. The party continued on and discovered the door, which opened only when the researcher's wife touched it.
Inside, they found a modern bedroom, with a stunning, naked woman inside. The researcher's wife gibbered a bit more, and everyone else was paralyzed for a moment in absolute terror and worship of the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. Then the police chief shot the thing with his automatic machine pistol.
Skin was ripped and peeled back as the thing revealed it's true form - a gigantic scaled monster, easily twenty feet tall. The party, now suitably terrified, fired machine pistol and shotgun shell after shotgun shell into the creature.]
Standing by the well, I heard gunfire below and an inhuman roar. Having examined the contents of the trailer earlier, I had discovered several sticks of dynamite. Not feeling particularly keen to MEET an inhuman monster, I collected some dynamite, lit it, and tossed it down the well.
[The researchers wife, with a broken leg, managed to drag herself to Lillith, and started to strike at it with a panga she lifted off the police chief. Eventually, the bullets and cuts affected Lillith, who fell to the ground, dead - but not before making a final swipe, tearing the researchers wife into pieces. Before Lillith's corpse hit the ground, the earth began to shake and the tunnel began to cave in. The party ran for the tunnel. Nicolette, suffering from extreme claustrophobia, almost had a panic attack, but managed to dig down deep and make it through. As the reached the tunnel entrance, a stick of lit dynamite fell at their feet...]
Thankfully, the falling had put out the lit dynamite, as moments after dropping it I heard the party calling below. I quickly lifted both of them out, and we piled into the car to drive away. As we left the rapidly caving-in mountain, I turned to the (previously empty) passenger seat to look back and see if the other passengers in the vehicle were alright - only to discover the researcher's wife in the seat next to me, perfectly healthy and sane!
[She couldn't remember anything since seeing the statue of Dagon, but a deep voice rang in her head "THIS IS YOUR REWARD FOR KILLING THE USURPER"]. I gibbered [and finished the game on 2 sanity after losing 8 from the shock of seeing her alive].

Game over.

In retrospect, I wish I'd played up the serial killer thing a bit more :)

Adventures in Jo'burg #4

For the fourth instalment of "Adventures in Jo'burg", I did something I've always wanted to do: I went to a geek con. The con in question was ICON, which featured lots of Magic: the Gathering, Warhammer and Warhammer 40 000, some LAN gaming (more on that later), some RPGs (more on that later), some LARPing, some cosplaying, and a great big vendor hall full of anime, comic, geek, art and other goodness. And *astonishingly attractive* goth/cat girls.

For those who are interested, it seems that RPG.co.za is the place to go to find out information about ICON. And while I'll post some pics shamelessly scraped from their site (and which are years old), if you want to see more, check out their gallery.

So I arrived, early (too early as it turns out), and had to wait outside as one of the organisers attempted comic relief in the form of deriding attendees who weren't into his gaming (RPGs, as it turns out) at the top of his lungs. Warhammer, Magic, etc. where targets of abuse. But everyone chuckled, so it was fine.

I was attending because I had passed the preliminary  rounds for the Mayhem Dawn of War 2 competition. I was looking forward to some solid gaming, and was completely let down. The players I was competing with were beyond excellent - the two who beat me (I eventually came third) thoroughly deserved to win, as their skills in the game completely outclassed my own. But the room was continually noisy (incredibly distracting when you're playing a game which revolves around intense focus), the computers provided were of a poor quality (I had to adjust the monitors myself because the organisers didn't know that the wide-screen monitor used had a native resolution of 1440x900, DESPITE THE FACT THAT IT BELONGED TO ONE OF THEM - and was dirty, to the point of making it hard to make out what was on the screen), and the competition was poorly organised - the match-ups where decided on the day, there was no proper announcement of prizes (in fact they still haven't announced if I won anything for third place, two days after I achieved it), so overall I was unimpressed by the competition.

Then I investigated RP. I love roleplaying games (I have another blog all about it, in fact), and this was really exciting to me - seeing other people playing, finding different points of view on how the games are played and so on.

I registered, and quickly discovered that, as expected, geeks are anti-social. Until I was put into a group with other players, and while the GMs (game masters, the story tellers in RPGs) where reading their source material - a process that takes between 15 and 45 minutes, we all stood around awkwardly if we did not have a large crowd of friends handy (which I don't, being an East Londoner and all). Eventually we got together and we had a great game - we played Call of Cthulhu (a first for me, but something I've always wanted to do), and I enjoyed myself immensely. Afterwards, I was so dog tired, I slouched off home and passed out.

Some highlights from ICON when I wasn't competing or RP'ing:

• Cosplayers. There were several. A guy I knew in the competition introduced me to two catgirls, carrying their doggie slaves. Guys in wode, tieflings (complete with tiny little horns), Yomiko Readman. Not to mention - in case you missed it - CRAZY ATTRACTIVE GOTH GIRLS.
• Chatting with the comic-book vendors. I've read enough over the last four years that I can generally match them in conversation. One of them looked like he was about to cry when I pointed out that I asked for Warren Ellis, not Garth Ennis, because he'd got them mixed up.
• Realizing that I'll never have enough money to dedicate to the hobbies I'd like to have. 40k artbooks at R500. D&D manuals at R480. Boardgames going for over R1000. If I picked up all the books I wished I owned there, I could easily have spent about as much as I have recently started paying off on my car.
• At one point during RP, one of the GMs (tiefling cosplayer, actually) started running around the big tent screaming (in a high-pitched voice) for about thirty seconds. Compete silence (from everyone else) reigned as all eyes turned to him. After finishing and quietening down, he sat back at the table and said (loudly) something like "and that was what the little girl did when you took her teddy bear".

All in all? I'll go there again, if I'm still in town this time next year. It's expensive, and I'll never compete in a Mayhem competition again, but ICON was pretty frickin' awesome :)

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