Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Bedlam in Babbage: Space Edition

It looked like New Babbage. The sign said I was in New Babbage. I recognized The Clarendon, where Mr. Edward Pearse would be spinning his wax cylinders. And yet... that craft in front of The Clarendon did not look like it belonged in Babbage. Naturally, I went in anyway.

It seemed that this edition of Bedlam in Babbage was taking place in space, in a part of the timestream unfamiliar to me. Although I wasn't dressed for the occasion - people in the future will dress oddly, it seems - I joined the festivities.

Mr. Vox Wright

Dr. Watson (Elilke Sieyes) and Mr. Holmes (Elina Koskinen)

Inspector Beth Lestrade (Miss Robin Thorr)

Mr. Blackberry Harvey

Miss Mariah Lanfier (left) and Miss Scarlet Jaggernov (right)

Miss Breezy Carver

Our DJ, Mr. Pearse, floating along in zero gravity

Your humble journalist


Mr. Jorge Serapis

Soon I had to return for tea at Chez Jameson, so I made my farewells and attempted to navigate the timestream back to 18__ Caledon . I heard one last piece of advice as I departed: "Avoid the 20th Century!"

Sunday, January 16, 2011

A Tour of Steam Sky City

Having toured Aether and Dreadnought Isles, I thought that, while I was in the vicinity, I should stop by Steam Sky City herself. From the prow of the city (do cities have prows? well, this one ought to), the view had not changed much from my last visit.
However, as I wandered the decks, I found that a great deal had changed, starting with Mr. Volare's getaway vehicle touring dirigible waiting mid-city.

The Caledon Air Transport had a prominent location, including a map of all the CAT routes. (I think it was updating locations in real time; unfortunately, the darn thing never completely rezzed for me.)

In the aft section there was now a Japanese tearoom.
Nearby, Mr. Kozlov has an ornate residence.

I was amazed at the workmanship throughout the city, and kept taking pictures:




Friday, January 14, 2011

Aether Isle and Dreadnought Isle

Aether Isle and its smaller companion, Dreadnought Isle, are the two land masses on the ground near Steam Sky City, and both have seen new residents with new builds on their property of late.

The old airship tower is gone, replaced by...a new airship tower! The Caledon Air Transport company has a stop in SSC, right on the corner of Aether Isle.
The old Falcon Tower is gone - I'm a little nervous to think how SSC is getting its power now (my lights have been dimming a fair bit recently, so perhaps the answer is as simple as "stealing it from the Downs") - replaced by the Black Hole Laboratory and Top Secret Counterfeiting Factory.
Below, the interior of the Laboratory. Youth must be served, but in my day stealth was an important factor in the Mad Science business. One wanted to keep a plausible facade of respectability and not simply announce one's evil intentions to sundry passers-by.
Across the way, Miss Glorf Bulmer has her Bijou Submarine Pen and Bomb Lab. Again, a worthy venture, but perhaps announced a little too forthrightly. Taking advantage of that honesty, however, I erred on the side of caution and did not touch anything, lest it be a sensitive part of the bomb-making apparatus.
Further down the road is a proprietorship by the name of Golem Engineering. Hmm, what could possibly go wrong there?

Across the way, on Dreadnought Isle, is Miss Tinker Radium's Tesla Death Ray. Below, the control room...
...and the following picture shows the Tesla Tower itself.

I heartily applaud the concept of having a Death Ray in the vicinity. Burglars are likely to think twice about breaking into a house protected by one, and the entire city is likely safer from enemy attack. At the very least, any rival Mad Scientist intent on doing harm to SSC would be wise to concentrate her initial firepower on the Death Ray, giving the remaining residents time to mount a serious counterattack. This seems only Prudent.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Fostering a Culture of Fiscal Irresponsibility

When I started with my current employer (a medium-sized Federal agency) back in the early 90s, we had a smaller professional staff than we do now, and many more “support” personnel whose jobs were no longer necessary now that everyone had a capable personal computer.* We had a higher project load than we do now, and that load increased substantially during the go-go years of the mid- to late-90s and early 2000s. Back then, every professional staffer in my part of the organization had at least one, and often two, major projects underway with one or two more in some sort of minimal-work stage, plus several longer-term projects.** Now, the volume of work has diminished substantially – partly because of the recession – while the number of professionals has increased – in part because of agency growth and in part because of substitution away from support personnel to professional staff. As a consequence, the workload per employee has diminished dramatically.

The workload would have diminished even further had it not been for a collective decision to undertake projects with ever-decreasing rates of return. Although government agencies have a very different purpose and approach than profit-maximizing entities, think of this as equivalent to an oil exploration company hiring new engineers at the same time oil prices are falling, and then justifying the added expense by drilling in increasingly unlikely spots. Sure, one or two of those exploratory wells in unusual formations may yield some oil, but most will be predictable busts.

Of course, in the corporate world, a firm that makes continual expensive mistakes will eventually come under pressure to change course. Earnings will fall, the stock price will fall, shareholders will complain, and the Board of Directors will eventually be forced to act or be replaced. Government has those pressures only indirectly: if voters get fed up with the psychic rate of return they’re getting from the bureaucracy, they can replace the men and women who control the overall agenda and purse (Congress) and the man or woman who appoints people to set the specific agenda (the President). The voters can’t directly replace a single person who works at this agency.***

The bureaucratic imperative, whether in the private or public sector, is to build one’s empire. Growth is essential to the process. The manager demands more staff, a bigger budget, more responsibility. I suspect this is part self-selection – those satisfied with the status quo tend not to go into management – and part self-preservation – if your colleagues are all playing this game, it’s professional suicide to stand on the sidelines.**** As an employee, I’m glad to know there is someone in my part of the organization fighting for budget dollars for my stuff, whether it’s new computer equipment, better office furniture, or more colleagues. I’m glad to know that my agency is skilled at wooing politicians and justifying its existence. But it's not necessarily a good thing from a more global perspective.

Having continuity across political eras is a good thing. From a staff perspective, it would be horrible to know that a Republican Congress meant a staff of 500 and a Democratic Congress meant a staff of 1000. Who would want such a job? The human cost of firing people is enormous. Fortunately, there seems to be a bipartisan more-or-less consensus about the value of the agency and its work.

But the system provides no mechanism for checking whether the size of the agency is a little too big or a little too small. (Or a lot too big or small, I suppose, but let’s focus on gradual change.) Yes, ultimately Congress gets to decide on a budget for the agency and can control the mission of the agency,^ but how much time can be spent worrying about the details of one agency? If Congress is out there printing and spending money as fast as the presses will operate, a request for another $20 million next year is likely to be met with a yawn and speedy approval. If Congress is practicing some form of austerity, the agency budget may not grow, and may even shrink, but again without much thought about the specific nature of what we do, how it fits into an overall government agenda, and what should be the appropriate amount of that work. Even an austere Congress is more likely to shrug and declare that all agencies will take an x% budget cut, rather than think through the right size of every individual agency.^^

I look around the office and see enormous amounts being spent – on more personnel, more office space, trips around the country for one reason or another – and look at the relatively low capacity utilization, especially relative to the mid-90s, and wonder why it is that we keep hiring people. This seems especially cruel if anyone thinks we’re likely to have a budget cut of any real magnitude: people just hired will be let go, having disrupted their lives to move here and possibly having turned down alternative offers.

Whose fault is this, anyway? I can’t blame my bosses, who are fighting for resources with other divisions. I can’t blame the other divisions for the same reason. I suppose I could blame the agency heads for not being responsible adults and asking Congress for less money – “Hey guys, good news for you this year: we’re seeing less business, so we don’t need quite as many people. We’ll be back asking for a budget increase when the time comes where we need the money.” – but it’s like blaming the lion in the zoo for eating the tourist who falls in. Lions do what they’ve evolved to do, and bureaucrats are no different. Ultimately, the buck stops with Congress. If they would scrutinize agency requests for more money with a critical eye, instead of spending their time naming Post Offices and dreaming up creative ways to spend more borrowed money, perhaps they’d be more effective at oversight. I have my doubts, though. The government is just too big, with too many agencies serving too many constituencies, for one organization to monitor effectively all its parts.

The problem isn’t limited to government, of course. Universities are notorious for increasing the number of faculty, departments, degrees, administrators, and what not, and grabbing as much land as possible. No one ever steps back and says, “Gee, was developing a cross-discipline program in the economics of chemical engineering Chinese literature during the Han dynasty really a worthwhile venture for us?” Instead, the ambition of universities tends to be limited only by the available budget. Churches tend to have an odd sort of mission creep as well, and corporations, despite the discipline imposed by the financial market, are not immune.^^^ Companies often think that being successful in one area gives them license to expand into other arenas, often beyond their competence, and almost surely without the degree of success of the first project.

Mind you, I'm not suggesting layoffs. I know the human cost of eliminating positions. And the government, bless its heart, has the luxury of not being subject to the harsh discipline of the market, so agencies have the ability to recalibrate their work force in a kinder way than the private sector. That's a good thing for the human capital involved, even if it's not as efficient as it could be. The labor market is flexible, a truly remarkable thing, but it is not frictionless. It takes time and considerable emotional energy to rebound from losing a job and to find another one. The solution isn't to halve the size of my agency overnight.

However, people retire and people move to other positions. If we should really be, say, 20% smaller than we are, a plan to get us from here to there would be a good thing. Losing 4% a year for five years could likely be achieved fairly painlessly. Yet I have the uneasy feeling that no one is looking that far ahead, and that one day someone will wake up and decide that the 20% reduction needs to be done in one fell swoop. That would be very painful.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to make myself useful while waiting for business to pick up...



*For example, we had remnants of the old typing pool (now called “secretaries,” but, let’s face it, the amount of secretarial work hadn’t increased when the typing pool suddenly became outmoded) and an entire statistical division that essentially did basic data collation and calculations – essential once upon a time but an anachronism once Lotus 1-2-3, VisiCalc, and Excel arrived.

**I know the word “project” covers a multitude of tasks. I realize I’m being somewhat cryptic for the sake of privacy, which is a little silly given the nature of this post. But that’s the way it is. Looks, this isn’t Wikileaks; I’ve got legal confidentiality requirements in addition to personal privacy issues. Think of a project as requiring an average of 10 hours per week for an average of six months, though the variance on that is enormous.

***Nor should they.

****Heh – I worked in a sports metaphor!

^Sometimes the crazy folks micro-manage the damn place, down to demanding specific reports on specific topics. Don’t they have anything better to do under that big ol’ dome anchoring the National Mall? What a world! But I digress.

^^An oft-heard proposal these days is to fund the government at 2008 levels. A supporter of Big Government would lament the need to make significant cuts while a supporter of Small(er) Government would note that 2008 levels were significantly higher in real dollars than even a few years earlier and can’t be much of a hardship. Neither side would spend much time arguing about whether 2008 funding is appropriate everywhere.

^^^And, lest you all think I protest too much, my agency is far from the worst offender of even my limited knowledge. We may be overstaffed, but we’re overstaffed, by and large, with smart people who are interested in doing their jobs well. I try to remind myself of that on days when some of my colleagues severely try my patience.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Two Incidents of Semi-Amusement

As I awoke from a lengthy nap the other day, in the house nestled at the bottom of the ridge in Caledon Downs, I heard a sound nearby, as though someone were engaged in heavy construction. After throwing off my dressing gown and getting decently dressed, I ventured outside, prepared to meet a new neighbor.

What I saw instead was a monstrous house, with much glass constructed as though a number of cubes were stacked on top of and next to one another (a style that, I am told by those who can foretell the future, will be popular in the 1960s). This house was resting precariously on an outcropping next to Miss Audrey Fotherington's property and poised directly over Rhianon's house, the one I was currently occupying.

I climbed the hill, intending to give the builder - clearly a squatter on Commonwealth land - a piece of my mind when he disappeared, leaving behind his ugly house and possessions. [OOC note: the owner of the prims - or the perp, as I think of him - was over 500 days old, plenty old enough to know better. He had logged out when he saw me coming.] In no time at all, I had been joined by a number of Caledonians interested in seeing just how awful styles in the future would be. Miss Garnet Psaltery, Miss Gwynna Cleanslate, Mr. Alastair Whybrow, Mr. Roy Smashcan, and Mr. Jorge Serapis all gathered on that hill, kindly providing companionship and support as I stared at the building. Mr. Whybrow noted that the house and furnishings were occupying more than 500 prims, nearly a good-sized piece of jewelry for him!

Mr. Serapis, though not an Estate Manager, nonetheless had some powers that were beyond those of a mere citizen, and was able to send the house and its contents back to whatever hell they came from while the rest of us cheered him on. His assistance was gratefully appreciated. [As it turned out, some of the house rested on Miss Fotherington's property, leaving it beyond the reach of Mr. Serapis and his talents. I left Miss Fotherington a note, and she gleefully returned the rest of the build when she was next in-world.]

Mr. Serapis' day was not yet done, however, as he had heard of or seen a property in the Downs with ban lines around it. Ban lines, of course, are prohibited by the Covenant and are a severe navigational hazard to airships. He found the property adjacent to Miss Falcon's chess board. We followed him to observe the amazing sight:

Mr. Bander Mynx owns the property and the structure below, a two-story-plus-garret house apparently built for giants, and complete with Gorean slave cage.


Mr. Mynx returned home about that time [No doubt hearing some of the discussion on ISC chat. :) ] He was unaware that he had restricted access to the property, and the situation was quickly resolved. Still, one has to wonder what would prompt someone (of under 3 months age) to purchase a dwelling such as this one, including the slave cage. One would think that, at the very least, the Catgirl Brigade might be amused to use the house as target practice.

Did the Guvnah put up new signs that advertised Caledon as the perfect spot for a bit of light Victorian slave roleplay? Or is the sign smudged so that "Victorian" now looks like "Gorean"?

This too shall pass...

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Caledon Consolidates

During ISC chat the other night I learned that Caledon Perenelle is no more, and that Eyre and the Highlands have been converted to homestead sims.

I had wondered how long the Guvnah would tolerate so many empty parcels; now I know the answer.

I hope this is the only round of consolidation for Caledon, but my fear is that we've just seen the beginning.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

More Nevermoor

Back in November, Kathy posted an early report on Steelhead's newest sim, Nevermoor, with its gothic theme and Alice-in-Wonderland inspiration. Now that some residents have had a chance to move in, I thought I should pay it a longer visit.

The area is laid out around the central square, seen below, with its Alice touches...
...including the electric caterpillar.

North of the square is Miss Cerise Blackheart's House of Blackheart Elegant Jewels,...
...while immediately south of the square is the Eat Me Bakery and Cupcakery.
To the east lies the Peterman Garden Shoppe, with a curious reindeer looking at my camera.
Beyond that lies a set of dilapidated gates.
To the west is a fountain with various statues surrounding the water.

Residences form an outer ring to the commercial center, as can be seen here...
...and here...
...and here. What's nice is that both the residences and shops are, at least this far, very much consistent with the theme.

Travel to 400 meters and find the new home for Miss Fauve Aeon's All Dolled Up:

As far as I could tell, there was no easy way of getting there from the ground as of yet.

Several plots still seemed to be vacant, so hasten to the latest, fanciful addition to Steelhead if you are inspired by the gothic side of the Steamlands.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

The Adventure of the Black Heart - Coda

Although the Adventure of the Black Heart is over - for now, at any rate - evil never really dies - Master Loki has provided one last set of clues to gather: three coins, found at the Crypt, the Old Dig site, and the grave of Helen.

Finding these coins and solving a small puzzle will provide "will lead [one] to a final understanding the events that took place in New Babbage." (And a very entertaining summary, I might add - though if you have followed the adventure in this Journal you will find the summary quite familiar.)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Burroughs in Winter

I had the pleasure of visiting Caledon Burroughs and seeing how Dr. Goode's duchy fared in the winter months. The snow had fallen, of course, but Dr. Goode had a purpose-built clank to clear the walkways. The little guy had almost finished when I arrived:
When Rhianon visited, she saw the Laboratory in the Sky. It seemed that there was now a Laboratory Under the Sea as well. Would it be accessible with the lake frozen over?
I shimmied down the pole - no high-tech conveyance here! - and indeed the connecting tube went straight through the ice to the laboratory on the floor of the firth.

To accommodate the ice, however, Dr. Goode had installed several vehicles capable of traversing over the frozen firth, including a shuttle to the Caledon mainland and several ice-skimming vehicles.
But why ride when one can skate? I strapped on a pair of skates and made my way across the water.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

The Adventure of the Black Heart, Part 5

I had not forgotten my theory that the body of Bernard Blindside, the archaeologist, had fallen from - or was thrown from - the Clockhaven town wall. The next day, I made my way back to Clockhaven once again in order to test my theory. I crawled into one of the guard stations and from there onto the top of the wall. As I nearly reached the end of the wall, I saw a familiar sight: yellow chemical blotches, the same blotches I had last seen in the sewers after the Beast and its liberator made their escape. I was on the right track!

I followed the trail into the tunnel inside the wall until the splotches abruptly ended. I stood there, puzzled. Where could they have gone - inside solid rock? Then I noticed that the rock became unnaturally smooth for a few inches, a span so small that a casual passer-by would not have noticed anything unusual. I ran my hands around the smooth area and heard a catch spring open. It was a door! I pressed against it and the door swung in, revealing a small laboratory. Drawing my pistol, I stepped cautiously inside.

The room was empty. An upended chair, several chains, and blood stains suggested my theory was correct: this was where Blindside had been taken and tortured. When his usefulness was at an end, he was taken topside and thrown off the wall, his body eventually floating back to Port Babbage and the docks. How much did the archaeologist know? Was he part of this fiendish plot, or did he stumble across part of the secret? We may never know.

I searched the room quickly, afraid that its owner would return at any moment. Several charts were tacked to the wall, one revealing the plans of the Mark IV Beast cage that the urchins had developed (the one that finally succeeded in trapping the creature), and one displaying a schematic for a device of some sort. On the table lay Salador's journal, with all the alchemist's notes about his horrible experiments. Finally, a note, written on the stationery of the Van Creed society, said that Salador had discovered the homunculus and a formula that would bring the homunculus to life.

Before I could be discovered, I left the tiny room and returned to the Hotel Excelsior to ponder what I had learned.

And with that, my role in the story is essentially at an end. I was at a standstill, not knowing who might be responsible for the present atrocities. I could speculate: someone - probably in the Van Creed society - uncovered Salador's journal, learned of the experiments with the homunculi, learned of the story of Helen and Sebastian and understood where Saldor went wrong in creating the Beast, and decided to create another immortal. Who and why, though, was something I could not fathom, and had no leads to follow. As anticlimactic as this may seem, that's the way it goes some days in the investigative journalism business.

In another sense, however, the fun was just beginning. Clockwinder Tenk called a town hall meeting of Babbage citizens to discuss the matter. Before they could assemble, however, young Miss Myrtil Igaly was attacked, made to cry, and, odd as it may seem, had her tears stolen. At the meeting, the mysterious stranger who lurked on the rooftops revealed himself as Mr. Sebastian Verwood, of the Order of Malkuth - as improbable as it sounds, the very same Sebastian who once loved a young lady named Helen! Mr. Verwood's analysis of the situation was that "we believe that someone in this town wants to try and complete the formula and correct Salador's failure," though he did not know who this person might be.

The urchins, in their own way, related to the assembled townspeople how Myrtil had been attacked, her tears stolen, and how the assailant had fled into a room above Sir Willard's lodgings, locking himself inside with the homunculus machine.

As Mr. Lans Starsider related, a cadre of Babbagers, including Mr. Starsider, Mr. Maltheus Canis, the Malkuth knights, and young Master Tepic, Master Gadget and Miss Myrtil, stormed the secret room, only to find Mr. Slooth Mosswood - yes, the same Slooth Mosswood with whom I had a seemingly innocuous conversation the day before - having engaged the regeneration machine, planting a brain into a homunculus. Gadget succeeded in destroying the machine, causing an electric surge and a flood that apparently killed Mosswood, but not before the machine successfully brought to life the mind of Jason Moriarty, a villain well known to Babbagers. No one knows Moriarty's fate, though most believe him to be alive and planning mischief.


Afterward, I visited the room above Sir Willard's laboratory, but there was nothing left to salvage.


I write these notes in the hotel lobby, waiting for transportation back to the airport to take the Hangover Two back to Caledon. This part of the story may be finished, but I cannot help but believe that more remains to be written.

[Note: I would like to thank Mr. Loki Eliot for the hard work he did in creating this puzzle for all to enjoy, and I'd also like to thank all the Babbagers who participated in the roleplay. Clearly many others were following the clues as I was, and I make no claims to great cleverness. I spent many enjoyable hours exploring New Babbage, tracking down the clues provided, talking with some of the residents (including one villain!), and finding additional hints in the journals of Babbagers. I look forward to future adventures in the city. - RJ]