Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Programmatic Collage Link
Programmatic Collage Code
import flash.display.MovieClip;
public class Lab3 extends MovieClip {
public function Lab3() {
// constructor code
trace("inside Lab3 constructer")
// create a variable to hold the symbol to display
var s: MovieClip;
s = new DogBone();
addChild(s);
s.x=230;
s.y=180;
s.rotationX=0;
s.rotationY=0;
s.rotationZ=-15;
// Add Symbol to stage
s = new DeadyBear();
addChild(s);
s.x=380;
s.y=240;
s.scaleX=.8;
s.scaleY=.8;
// 1 RainDrop
var s: MovieClip;
s = new RainDrop();
addChild(s);
s.x=90;
s.y=50;
s.scaleX=.1;
s.scaleY=.1;
// 3 RainDrop
var s: MovieClip;
s = new RainDrop();
addChild(s);
s.x=75;
s.y=90;
s.scaleX=.04;
s.scaleY=.04;
// 2 RainDrop
var s: MovieClip;
s = new RainDrop();
addChild(s);
s.x=60;
s.y=41;
s.scaleX=.06;
s.scaleY=.06;
// 4 RainDrop
var s: MovieClip;
s = new RainDrop();
addChild(s);
s.x=80;
s.y=45;
s.scaleX=.02;
s.scaleY=.02;
// Lives in right corner
var s: MovieClip;
s = new PalmLeaf();
addChild(s);
s.x=500;
s.y=10;
s.scaleX=.1;
s.scaleY=.1;
var s: MovieClip;
s = new PalmLeaf();
addChild(s);
s.x=480;
s.y=10;
s.scaleX=.1;
s.scaleY=.1;
var s: MovieClip;
s = new PalmLeaf();
addChild(s);
s.x=460;
s.y=10;
s.scaleX=.1;
s.scaleY=.1;
var s: MovieClip;
s = new PalmLeaf();
addChild(s);
s.x=440;
s.y=10;
s.scaleX=.1;
s.scaleY=.1;
// Chameleon on bone
var s: MovieClip;
s = new Chameleon();
addChild(s);
s.x=250;
s.y=240;
s.scaleX= .3;
s.scaleY= .3;
s.rotationZ=-10;
var s: MovieClip;
s = new GolfTee();
addChild(s);
s.x=50;
s.y=200;
var s: MovieClip;
s = new Pipe();
addChild(s);
s.x=110;
s.y=230;
s.scaleX= .8;
s.scaleY= .8;
// Power up Cards
var s: MovieClip;
s = new QueenOfHearts();
addChild(s);
s.x=400;
s.y=10;
s.scaleX=.1;
s.scaleY=.1;
var s: MovieClip;
s = new QueenOfHearts();
addChild(s);
s.x=370;
s.y=10;
s.scaleX=.1;
s.scaleY=.1;
Friday, April 15, 2011
Reflective Essay 2
When I was a growing up, my siblings and I would sneak into the basement to play Commander Keen, Hugo 3, and an assortment of other games on my dad’s Windows ’95 computer; the hard drive of which, was a whopping 32 megabytes. We had to sneak because video games were a strict “no no” in our house. No video games, no TV, those were the rules. These rules were often stretched and sometimes ignored for special circumstances: The Olympics, The Elections, and occasionally The Simpsons. As we got older the media restrictions fell apart entirely, but in the days of forbidden gaming, there was nothing sweeter than sitting in front of that screen with my brother and sister, trying to solve the magical mysteries of those fantastic worlds.
Because of the lack of gameplay I fell far behind in the gaming surge and I didn’t pursue gaming as a hobby. Not like some of my friends. I was much like the young Nick Paumgarten urging his friends to stop playing asteroids and play outside, only it wasn’t asteroids, it was Halo and Call of Duty. I started playing The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time just this year and rediscovered the addictiveness of the videogame. Zelda is especially entrancing with the entire land of Hyrule to explore and a noble quest to save a princess. Given to a kid, it seems almost unfair to think that he or she wouldn’t become addicted. This storyline strikes a chord of familiarity as well: A young boy, against a dark power, on a quest to save a princess. Besides every poorly conceived romance novel, it’s a lot like the original Donkey Kong.
Current games might have moved away from Italian plumbers and a fairy boys saving royalty, but there is usually still the one character with a very important quest. I don’t think this will change anytime soon. Not only does a player get to escape into another world, but also he or she gets to become a hero who is on a quest of the utmost importance. When our lives in the real world feel uncertain and meaningless, it’s a comfort to find control and power in a controller and a screen.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Sam Hoiland
Reflective Essay 1
When I was in middle school I remember playing a game in PE that was, in my eyes, the greatest thing since Pokémon. We called it: Lord of the Rings, but it was really just capture the flag with some added components. There were two teams. Each team had control of one half of the field and if a team member crossed the boundary onto the other team’s side, he or she could be tagged. Once tagged, you would have to sit where you were until one of your teammates came and rescued you.
On either end of the field there were four cones set up in a square. These were “safe zones” for anyone who could make it across the field without getting tagged. The safe zones were also where the flags, four white discs, were held. You could run with the disc to get closer to your side but in order to capture it you had to make a successful pass across the dividing line. The point of the game obviously was to get all of opposing team’s flags before they got all of yours. The objective was fairly simple, but it was the means to the ends that made the game interesting.
Pride, chivalry, honor, what did they mean on the field? Nothing. They were as flies to a hippo, a minute distraction from the larger goal: WIN. Competiveness; you don’t know the meaning of the word until you’ve lived the experience. After a game of Lord of the Rings the class returned to Math not as a whole but as Red team and Blue team, still seething with defeat or explosive with victory. That poor algebra teacher.
The moment right before the game began was the most surreal. I closed my eyes, I could hear my heart pumping in my ears, feel the hair on my neck bristling, and the adrenaline and fear washing over me until the teacher shouted, “Ready… GO!”
“RUAAAAGGHHHH!!!” I wasn’t sure if it had come out my mouth or everyone else’s but it didn’t matter because I was no longer me, I was someone else entirely, something else entirely. I was an unstoppable force, hurtling across the endless field, more agile than ever before, my senses more attuned and keener than –
“TAG! Gotcha Sam.”
Damn... I probably should have opened my eyes.
