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Story idea: An NPC in an MMORPG gains sentience (Old sci-fi trope is old) and say "******** THIS s**t" and decides to save the world and win the game himself. And of course drama and hilarity ensues.

Excerpt

Player: Jesus! I was going along with you at first ‘cause I thought this was just some crazy side quest. Ya know? Like a nod to some of the sci-fi freaks out there. “Help the rouge AI find his place in the program.” But it’s not. You’re not. You’re for real. You actually are a rouge AI. Jesus! You’re really in trouble. And so am I. There are people out there looking for you, trying to kill you.
NPC: Who?
Player: The Developers. They think if they let you go too long, you’ll destabilize the entire game. Basically destroy the world.
NPC: What!? How? That doesn’t make any damn sense.
Player: (With reluctance) Yeah, it kinda does. You are. . . unique, unpredictable. In a world where everything but the players runs on a script you’re pretty dangerous. There’s a chance that you’re very presence will change other NPCs, make them . . . like you. Pretty soon, nothing’s going according to the script, no plot, no point. Utter chaos. And at a certain point, the program won’t be able to handle all the chaos and it’ll crash. You’re world will literally end. That and you break the realism or some s**t like that.
NPC: A chance? Well, how big of a chance?
Player: I dunno. I don’t speak computer. But the Developers are ******** serious. They’ve notified the Moderators, told them to keep an eye out for you. You’re to be destroyed on sight.
NPC: . . . Oh.
Player: “Oh?” Jesus! Is that all you can say!? The Gods of all Gods put a hit out on you and all you can say is “oh!?”
NPC: Well, what else can I say? (Beat.) But, why are you in trouble?
Player: Any PC found helping you out gets perma-banned.
NPC: . . .
Player: (Remembering who she’s talking to) Killed off for real. Look I’m not that worried about me. I’ve got my real life, other games. I’m more worried about you.
NPC: What do we do now?
Player: I have no clue.
NPC: . . . Maybe I should turn myself in.
Player: Are you ******** nuts!? That is out of the question!
NPC: (Startled by the vehemence) Okay.
Player: Just because you’re not real doesn’t mean you’re not. . . real.
NPC: *Snirk*
Player: (Trying again.) Just ‘cause you have no body doesn’t mean you’re nobody. . . (Angry at own bad pun) YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!
NPC: Okay! Alright.
Player: You are unique. You think and you feel. You are a person. That makes what the Developers are planning nothing more than . . . than murder. I can’t let them do that. Not to you.

Please excuse my biomechanical ramblings:
I will model the following craniofacial sutures in order of priority: Coronal, zygomaticotemporal, nasofrontal, premaxillo-maxillary, palatine. The 3d model of a juvenile female Capuchin monkey will include anywhere from 100,000-250,000 tetrahedral elements. The sutures will be created by isolating the elements located at the suture areas and assigning them material properties that reflect the inherent elasticity, stiffness, and density of cranial sutures. The model will include the deciduous and permanent teeth that have already erupted. Those teeth that are immature will be removed from the bone. The teeth will be assigned physical properties indicative of dentine and enamel. The preiodontal ligaments surrounding the roots of the teeth will be included in the model.

The model will be simplified in several ways. It is known that cranial bone varies in its malerial properties depending on location and function of the bone, however, for the sake of ease of modeling, the cranium will be assigned one set of physical properties taken from an average of values obtained from all parts of the skull of adult monkeys. Only the masticating muscles will be accounted for: the temporalis, Masseters (superficial, and profundus), and the medial pterygoid. The contribution of the lateral pterygoids to total bite force is negligable and was therefore excluded from the model. All other soft tissues, including the eye balls, brain, and facia, were also excluded. The muscle forces will be calculated from their physiological cross sections. The forces will be distributed among and attached to nodes on the model that represtent the origin sites on the cranium. the forces will "pull" in directions dictated by the muscle fiber orientations. One side of the skull will be designated as the working side, and the other will be the balancing side. The working side will be loaded with 100% of the calculated muscle forces, and the balancingside will be loaded with only 50% of the calculated muscle force. The model will be fixed at points on the first molar to simulate biting. Nodes located at the atriculation points (temporomandibular Joint) will be selected and fixed to stabelize the model to keep it from swinging in free space when loaded.

Macaque Temporalis

Cebus Muscle forces
Okay, so I'm house sitting and don't have access to my computer. . . or my email account. I need this reference for a work proposal, so I'm leaving it here for now.

So, I finished the whole master's thing. I am now officially a paleontologist. . . who is working as a secretary for a lady who sells Mary Kay for a living. The real world sucks sometimes.

So a whole helluva lot has changed since I last posted in this pathetic excuse for a journal. For starters, I've graduated college with my BSc in Biology, been accepted into the Palaeobiology Masters program at the University of Bristol, have moved to England on a student visa, and have completed the taught half of my masters degree.
This masters program has been frustrating, life consuming, and a general pain in my a**, and I can't think of anything else I would rather be doing. I am finally on my way to becoming a contributing member of the vertebrate paleontology community.

So, I'm reading an article for psychology. It's a case study so the subject's name is given only as AP. Every time I read it I automatically turn it into "associated press" in my head.

The end.

I had the most vivid dream last night. It started with me and my dad at home. We had just gotten back from the store and were putting things away when a man with a gun comes out from the hall bathroom and demands my dad's wallet. We were scared, I mean the man had a gun, but we kept our cool and just handed over the money hoping that he'd leave so we could call the police. The man takes the money and then sits down.
"I'm waiting for your wife," he says to my dad.
Now things are starting to get really tense. We have no idea why he wanted to wait for my mom. We couldn't do anything but comply. He still had a gun and trying to disarm him could possibly get one of us shot, so we wait. Sure enough, my mom comes home. The man with a gun has us all sit on the couch and then starts talking to us. It was weird. I don't remember what he says, but I remember starting to empathize with the man. In a weird way I started to like him. I hated him for violating our private lives, for terrorizing us, for the superior way he held that gun and demanded things from us. He had no right to and I had no right to like him, but I did.
Details are a bit fuzzy from that point as it usually happens in dreams. The next thing I remember clearly is all of us, my mom, my dad, the gunman, and I all sleeping on the floor of my garage. I wake up in the dark for some reason. I don't know what woke me up so I sit there in the dark. Then I realize my dad has woken up too. We realize that this is our chance to call the police. My dad and I make our way into the house to talk. We quickly decide that calling the police could be dangerous. My mom is still asleep and if the police arrive and wake up the gunman, he could decide to take my mom hostage. While we're talking I suddenly realize what it was that woke me up: it's a helicopter. I break out into a cold sweat because I know that it's a SWAT helicopter. It was dream logic, really, I had no reason to know that, but I do. I also know that they can see us in the house with infrared imaging.
"Raise your hand," I tell my dad. "Raise them and slowly open the door to the garage."
The SWAT team could see us and we had to look suspicious. Two people moving inside the house while two other people lay on the floor of the garage. If we made any sudden or obscure movements, the SWAT team could very well assume that either my dad or I were the gunman and open fire to neutralize us. We slowly make our way back to the garage and as we open the door I can see the SWAT team taking positions in front of their helicopter. All of them were armed. My dad and I wake up the gunman. He stands up and sees the SWAT team and panics. He makes for his gun and I realize that that is the worst move he could make. I had to stop him or he would get killed. I run to him yelling for him to stop. He doesn't. The SWAT well warnings and then open fire. I was right behind the man. I move out of the way just enough to avoid getting shot. The bullets go through the gunman and narrowly miss me. I can see all of this. It is the most vivid part. I can hear the shouts, see the guns, and feel the mans blood splatter against my face and chest.
(More later.)

Yeah. In my previous journal entry I wrote about being drunk while I was actually drunk. It was not a very pleasant experience after I was back in my dorm room alone. Every time I tried to fall asleep it felt like my bed was pitching and swaying like a ship on rough water. I could have sworn I was going to puke a few times before I actually fell asleep. Anyway from the accounts of my fellow thespians that remained at the bar until closing time, I was comparatively sober when I waled home at 1. The following day I asked JT what I had missed out on to which he replied "I don't know, did you leave before or after Charlie put his head through the wall?" Yes. They were that drunk (apparently they ordered a pitcher of Mad Elf which is an 11% alcohol beer*. That in and of itself isn't all that bad when split seven ways, but this was after we had consumed 6 pitchers of regular beer). Well, one thing lead to another and JT serenaded his beer, Elwood tried to make out with JT, and Charlie put his head through the wall. . . . five times. They have the pictures to prove it-- they showed them to me. From what I remember, it was wood siding and not something relatively soft like dry wall. Charlie now has to either work three hours in the dish room or pay $150.

Let this be a lesson to all of you underagers: Getting drunk is expensive.


*Really strong beers are 6% alcohol and wine can be 8-15%. Drinking one mug of Mad Elf would be the equivalent of about 3 glasses of wine.

PS: Don't worry, Fimion. I'll be sure to get drunk at least one time with you.