Video

May

2018

Solomon Plays GoNNER – Episode 3

An Internet Existentialism

With this video, I have officially released my tenth submission as a YouTuber. Logically, at this point, I should harness the insight and experience of an award-winning film director, but for some reason, I still feel like a chimp aimlessly screaming at a TV screen. In the course of ten videos, I have at least learned that flinging my feces is mostly unhelpful and unsanitary.

All this to say, I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing, apart from avoiding what’s shit. I’m certainly enjoying creating videos, but I have yet to do something that really separates Solomon Rambling from all of the other amateur rabble. The same can be said of this website, perhaps if to a lesser extent. Over all of these months, I have focused on producing work that an accomplished content creator would generate. My voice and style of writing has weaved their way into my products, yet I’m very much following those who have found success before me.

This week’s GoNNER video provides a perfect example of my copy-cat behavior. I bought GoNNER for the sole purpose of playing it while I recorded. Numerous YouTubers have developed fanbases by simply recording themselves while monologuing over a game they haven’t played yet. These videos constitute our much beloved “Let’s Plays,” and I figured if the pros were making them, I should learn to do so as well. My other videos have followed a similar train of thought: if someone notable made a video around a certain theme or structure, I would mimic them as best as possible.

This behavior is not inherently wrong, not by a long shot. When you learn an art, you don’t forge your style and identity from the outset. Even prodigies begin by learning from others. As you develop your foundational skills, you look to those already established in the field. If you don’t outright copy their work, you are at least unconsciously incorporate aspects of their style into your own. Once you become more familiar with what you’re doing, you begin to craft a distinct product that is your own. That, or you become a fundamentalist who perfects the work of your predecessors.

I’m still a novice, treading the path of those who have paved their success. Regardless of how disgustingly cheesy and cliché that previous sentence is, it’s true. Right now, I don’t feel an urgency to rush my development, even as I near the first anniversary of my website. With my current pace, rambling onscreen has gradually felt more natural, and I can see improvement from my first video to now. Give me a little more time to gestate (and any critiques you have), and I will become a beautiful butterfly/moth/fully-formed fetus someday.

May

2018

Solomon Vs. the ClusterPuck Bots

Like Falling Off a Bicycle

Call it a calling, a gift, a natural affinity. Whatever you label it, some people have innate talent, making them able to easily achieve something that might take others days or months or years to obtain through practice. Growing up, I was fortunate enough to pick up some skills rather effortlessly. In fifth grade, I began joining the grade level above me for math. In middle school, my band teacher fawned over my French horn performances (no matter how painful it is to admit I played that instrument). By my senior year of high school, I was going to the local university for my English courses. I was not a prodigy by any means, even if my ego rivaled one’s.

Natural skill certainly supported me during my childhood and adolescence. It gave me self-confidence and a level of self-respect. That said, an inborn ability does not replace hard work and practice, and talent only travels so far. The supposed math genius in me hemorrhaged and died when calculus infected the previously simple and sweet equations. I abandoned the French horn soon after it became apparent that practicing in class was not enough to keep up with the rest. When my undergraduate career threw me into an ocean of accomplished writers, I fled to shore and hid from writing for years, fearing my best was someone else’s average.

Now that I’m older and unbearably more mature, I can recognize that any initial skill I have is a good launch pad for future improvement. All talent can be fostered, and if there is a peak to how much an ability can be improved, I can make Editor One cover up my limitations. With my YouTube videos, I learned pretty quickly that I would have to rely on gained experience instead of my God-given birthright to become a viral internet sensation. Each video is a lesson, something I have regurgitated in almost every one of these video journals.

ClusterPuck 99 proved to me that occasional practice is not a sufficient pathway to success. In the six weeks between my last Isaac video and this one, I avoided my recording equipment, reasoning I could take a break while the Namco video was being edited. During that time, any and all skill I had dried up and mummified, so my initial takes of ClusterPuck were not much more than me moisturizing myself while I mumbled and stumbled and cursed and cried. It wasn’t pretty, but now that I’ve posted this, I feel turgid once more.

You know the drill at this point. Shoot me some shit or keep it to yourself if that’s your fetish. I’m GoNNA make me some videos.

Apr

2018

Solomon Visits the Switch Namco Museum

Too Much History Behind This One

We flew too close to the sun. I set out with a grand dream: play each of Namco Museum’s eleven games, lampooning the tired retro collection for every wrinkle and age spot it had. Editor One would then take my treasure trove of satire and select only the best nuggets. He would sit with Player Two and I and comb through his edits. Our collective minds would see all necessary improvements, and Editor One would slink back into his lair to produce the final masterpiece.

But the sun was so hot, and our wax wings could not carry us forever. It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to slog through all of Namco Museum, and by the 45-minute mark, I became acutely aware of how quickly my rambling was turning into babbling. Exhausted and defeated, I shipped the results to Editor One, and that sweet, innocent child endured all of it to excise 41 minutes of excess fat. The three of us sat down to watch the video, brainstorming edits while Player Two transcribed the road map for “Draft 2.” This process was actually remarkably fun, and we pretended to be a little YouTube crew, scheming for our next viral hit.

We were still optimistic, but the sun is a realist. Life got in the way, and Editor One had already developed a hatred for the damnable Namco Museum video. He had seen too much of it, had heard my voice drone on for too long. He tried to avoid it, but the video slowly became his raven, haunting him no matter how much he tried to purge it all from his memory. His dreams were of corridors, sprites, and darkness. Underneath his tortured screams, he could still hear a deep, malevolent voice grumble, “Druaga.” Four weeks passed without me hearing from him, and I can only imagine the hard drugs and women he needed to distract him from Namco.

We had been burned. Three days ago, I found a 27-minute video shared with me, the feared Draft 2. As I watched it, I could not enjoy it, knowing the pain we had all suffered making it. I wanted to be done with it, but there were still five issues, and with a heavy heart, I ordered Player 2 to give the changes to Editor One so that I didn’t have to speak with him. I was not privy to the conversation, but I believe Editor One at point asked that I “suck his ass.” I cannot imagine the severity of his mental instability for him to say something like that.

But here we are. I present to you the 25-minute video into which we all poured our love. We all learned something, be it video editing, effective commentary, or efficient teamwork. It’s amazing how much we have done in this month-long process. It’s amazing how much the original video has changed. It’s amazing that there is still a grammatical issue at 16:59 despite me explicitly pointing it out and stating how it could be fixed. I’m not blaming you, Player Two, BUT I DISTINCTLY RECALL SAYING THAT THE SEMI-COLON GOES AFTER “ROLLING THUNDER 2,” NOT “ARE.”

We’re done though and ready to move on. We’ve revised our plans, improved our wings, and steeled our souls, all to prepare us for the next venture. If you want to contribute to our growth, feel free to throw comments or money our way.

Mar

2018

Solomon Rambling Plays the Binding of Isaac: Afterbirth+

Computer Troubleshooting

My current laptop was a desperate purchase. My previous laptop, a Dell, had crapped out earlier that day, deciding it no longer had any energy to power the screen. Because Murphy’s law is a callous, calculated bitch, my device up and died at the beginning of my workday, leaving me white-knuckling my desk and staring into the black abyss that was my blank monitor. The mountains of paperwork I needed to finish would inevitably avalanche into the rest of my week unless I addressed the problem immediately.

The Dell had supported me all through college and into my second year of work. I probably could have salvaged it, but after seven years, Old Yeller needed to go. Besides, fixing a computer would be much more time-consuming than outright buying a new one. The only fatality would be my next paycheck, but that was a problem for Future Solomon. The Present Solomon needed to relieve his nervous breakdown and get on over the Best Buy.

I bought my current HP laptop because the screen was big, it had a disk drive, and the price was exorbitant enough for me to believe I was getting a fancy product. I didn’t ask an employee for help, partly due to my distrust of salespeople and partly due to an intense fear of store employees. I could’ve done research, but that entailed work and did not satiate my need for instant gratification. As such, I walked out with my HP laptop 20 minutes after having entered Best Buy.

My laptop was intended for YouTube, iTunes, and Microsoft Word. Websites and video recording software were not even dreams at the time, but here we are. To its credit, my HP accomplishes most of my computer needs; it just also happens to need half an hour to fully boot. Skip that 30-minute warm-up, and the result is a stuttering video. What I had intended to be a simple video ended up being a two-week long affair as I waited for Editor One to throw together something to make-up for my computer’s faults.

His additions have certainly helped the video feel presentable, but the glitchy sections remain. It wouldn’t sting as much if I didn’t think the video was one of my stronger works, but hell, that’s life. Continue to direct all feedback and questions my way, and feel free to send any viruses to my HP to make it hobble more than it already does.

Mar

2018

Solomon Rambling and Video Game Humor

When Work Gets in the Way of Play

“Choose a job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.” There are some days I would punch Confucius in his philosophical nose for spouting out such simple nonsense. I imagine he embedded this quote in some manuscript that explained it in greater detail, but popular society has decided to trumpet this singular sentence when people are thinking of career choices. God knows I heard the saying enough during my days in college.

If I could choose any job, I would love to be a writer, and I’m sure as a writer, I would never work a day in my life. Unfortunately, this is also called unemployment, and this doesn’t necessarily put food on the table or video games in the Switch. As such, I chose a career path in college that could earn me a consistent income, and I pursued it knowing that I would genuinely enjoy the work I would be doing. I have days when I am fully in my element, when the day flies by. I’m almost always proud of what I do.

I also have weeks when I am slaughtered by my workload. Sometimes, Friday night rolls around, and I’m already dreading Monday morning without even having started my weekend. Most of us will experience these hardships, and you know what? We get past them. It sucks; we don’t like it, but we move on.

This week’s video is spawned from exhaustion, routine, and Spacecats with Lasers. Because I am still early in my career as a YouTuber wannabe, I have no idea if anyone will notice a difference in my videos. The nervous chihuahua in my head is yipping incessantly, yapping that I stuttered more frequently and came off as less entertaining. I have no way of confirming this unless I ask people for feedback, but the chihuahua is afraid of talking to people as well.

Let it be known that I would have probably referred to a part of my brain as a chihuahua, regardless of my work week.

No matter my excuse, I still made a video, and that’s a triumph. If it’s good or bad, let me know. I’ll be over here peeing on a fire hydrant while watching you with my big ol’ bug eyes.

An Internet Existentialism

Like Falling Off a Bicycle

Too Much History Behind This One

Computer Troubleshooting

When Work Gets in the Way of Play

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