Catan’s Legacy: The Passing of Klaus Teuber

Some board game designers are mathematicians and churn out balanced experiences with finely tuned mechanics. Some are computer scientists whose games are too complicated to contemplate. Klaus Teuber was a dental technician who launched a revolution. He passed this week at 70 from a sudden and severe illness (https://www.npr.org/2023/04/05/1168256131/catan-board-game-klaus-teuber-dies). Allow me to add to the chorus of retrospectives to eulogize and celebrate him.

Klaus entered my life through college neighbors and date nights. Indirect competition was a welcome relief from Monopoly, though its roll-for-resources turns are eerily similar. My copy of Catan still bills itself as “The Settlers of Catan,” with a decidedly colonial illustration on the front. This perspective was all too common in the interregnum between Avalon Hill’s heyday and the very golden age it kicked off, and the switch was a bellwether of larger industry growth and acceptance. It introduced so many people to the hallmarks of the Golden Age to come: A deck of cards replaces the dice to even out the odds of each number showing up, gold salves player frustration over wasted turns, and endless spin-offs for every player-count, taste, and budget allow players to craft their favorite version. Catan was my first truly modern game.

My dad was an old-school war gamer. Hex and chit classics littered the top shelves of our closets. His old lead soldiers mixed in with my Lego (gulp). We played Risk and Hero Quest with him as a child, Warhammer for summers home from college, and Star Realms as his health declined. We played Catan together. We played everything together. Before I knew it, he was gone. He would be turning 70 this May.

Catan shaped my gaming life. I played it again for the first time with my kid in Klaus’ honor. No expansions or house rules. It took ten minutes before someone said, “I’ve got wood for sheep,” and the dice hated me all night, just like old times. Its clunky charm was amplified by memories of games past. I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the evening.

Klaus won’t be the first titan to leave us.  Remember that his most famous creation didn’t become truly great without moving forward. And it never would have woven itself into the fabric of our lives without being worth countless sessions with those we love most. Let’s play one in his honor and keep moving forward.

Skitarii, Mashal, and Tech Priest Dominus

Just finished these 12 minis, all with a similar palette. I only paint right now, so they are probably not playable on the tabletop, lol.

A different Dominus is the mini that got me back into painting 5 years ago, so it was refreshing to take another crack at this mini after having learned so much! I have learned a ton about blending and layering since then. The robes are richer, the metals poppier, and I am much more precise.

The marshal was a little disappointing, honestly. I wanted so much more from this mini in terms of greeblies and detail. It ended up being a scaled-up squad leader with a scepter. Literally, their leaders are just taller? Maybe I'll take another crack at his robes and add some trim to liven up the back of the mini. Big sigh.

The squad is where I took all my chances. Again, I painted a squad of these guys about 4 years ago, so the second chance brought many opportunities for improvement. I loved the purple glow, but I still think I can improve my technique. Tips appreciated. I'm not sure I have the heart in me to do a third squad. Going to try some Sicarians and other Ad Mech units instead.

A bit anxious about what to do to make my Next units stand out but mesh with this scheme:

• ⁠Sicarians can basically echo the black jumpsuit with metallic bits, but I feel like going with that will lack some pop. Maybe leaning into the purple energy on their blades and finding accent pieces to pop with yellow and green?

• ⁠Pteraxi are the same conundrum, but a wing vein with a green on yellow pattern might be fun. I intend to do the flamer squad. I can really amp up the muzzle burn with purple hues rather than make them glow to match.

• ⁠Dunecrawler, ironstrider, and robots: I still haven’t done any armor. I don’t want green tanks. I need a good primary color. Was thinking a brown would pull in the base colors, but drab armor is not very 40k, but I’m planning a smooth ivory for my knights. That would tie all the big boys together visually. I’ll have to think on that.

Regardless, no more AdMech for a bit! After painting a big batch like this, I am going to take a break and paint some one-off RPG figs and smaller squads with more painting variety and skill-tests. A batch of Harlequins with their diamond tights and trailing streamers would do me well.

Bad iframe-resizer Attribute Effects

 I have a site that uses iframe-resizer.  After some code clean-up, every iframe on the app broke in seven different ways. Practically, this was the worst on pages that had infinite scroll or similar events triggered as the page moved. The resizer was triggering a scroll event which was triggering loading which was triggering more scrolling! To make matters worse, the scroll event handle was either non-existent or it was from jquery, and it was absolutely no help.

In the end, we had configured the attributes on the iframe tag incorrectly.  The clean-up had caused them all to be null when compiled into the app, so they never got rendered properly. This didn't show up as null in the final HTML, and there were no helpful errors to guide us. It took a long time to root out.

As you modify a system with iframe-resizer and everything goes to hell, make sure any changes to the iframe tag attributes or configuration is actually getting compiled down properly still. It can save a world of headache.

The Longest Goodbye: Dementia’s Impact on Caregivers

 Note: This post is a part of a series detailing my family's fight with dementia and elder abuse.

Your loved one is finally safe. Whether they are with you at home, or they’re in a skilled memory care facility built to handle their needs, you have handled the most traumatic portions of their care, and you have a roadmap to ensure they are cared for until you have to say goodbye forever. Along the way, it is incredibly likely that you have neglected your own needs while seeing to those of your partner, parent, or trusting friend. This is an account of the curve balls dementia threw at us, and what I did to ensure dementia didn’t rob me of the pride and confidence I should have after handling such heartbreaking circumstances. And it’s a log of all the ways I get to say goodbye one last time.

I’ll start with self-doubt because it hits the hardest and earliest. There was suspicion that something wasn’t right almost with my grandfather five years before he entered memory care. The doubt started with me questioning who my grandfather was after my grandmother died. When he let transients destroy his house and fought their eviction, was it him under all the erratic behavior, or was he actually sick? This cut me, as a caregiver, to my core. How could I have been a good grandson when I let this happen? Was I too busy with my own life to see the signs? But the objective truth was that my brother and I did what we could as soon as we could, and our efforts were neither insufficient nor did they overstep boundaries.

When I look back, the diagnosis and financial control that finally got him the totality of services he needed was not some decisive lightning stroke but instead a culmination of almost twenty years of care and guidance. It started when Trust papers were drawn up by my grandfather before I’d even gone to college. It continued through evictions and wellness checks that didn’t go our way, and it is still running as my brother and I navigate his life in memory care amid his declining health and our own personal challenges.

I fought doubt by remembering that just being there for him was more than most people could handle. The anxious calls from neighbors and extended family were helpful, but we were the ones that had to file eviction paperwork and wait for the constable to arrive. We had to deal with lawyers and detectives, doctors and nurses, to make sure all his needs were taken care of. And he would not be where he is today without our help. The reward from this exercise was a quiet affirmation in your own memory of how you helped when they needed it most. Something that would outlast their forgetfulness.

The second challenge is exhaustion. You can only do so much for your loved-one. It is OK to pause your attention for a moment, an afternoon, a weekend, to ensure you are not overwhelmed. Dementia has no cure. It is a progressive disease. Abusers may attempt to weaponize your absence, dementia may drive your loved one to fall apart as soon as you step away, and every call from the staff at the home will put your heart back into your throat. The fight is long, and your loved one will not fare better if you end up at the end of your rope. Take some time for sleep, food, and general decompression after dealing with dementia issues for an extended period of time. Reading about dementia can be helpful, but put down the research and pick up a fun fiction book once in a while. Write poetry, sing in the car, or find affirmations to recite when you get down. We’re in a journal and set milestones on your path to help you measure how much you have contributed to improving their quality of life. Taking stock in a quiet time, even if you have to use ear plugs to make it, will keep you supplied with enough spoons for the bigger challenges.

 While I don’t have experience living with a loved one with dementia in my own home, memory care has presented its own unique set of challenges to my self-image as a caregiver. Separation made me feel neglectful for placing them in 24hr care. Worse, Covid hit less than a year after entering care, and they were in quarantine for much longer than anyone thought. I felt like I had to say goodbye without the assurance that I would ever see him again.  This idea that only inattentive people send relatives to care homes could not have been further from the truth. Getting them into care cause an immediate jump in their stability. Better still, it was a huge weight off the shoulders of our family. My grandfather was admitted to memory care over the Thanksgiving holiday, and he was acclimated and forgetting his abusers by Christmas. Animosity towards family members took longer to ebb, but the staff played a huge role in redirecting his attention.

In general, rely on the staff and their assessment of the needs of your loved one. You might visit or call periodically, but they’re there every day, all day. And there are plenty of opportunities to see to the needs of your charge. Each facility is different, but you may need to arrange hair cuts, outside doctor visits, and prescription refills. You may be able to pick up your loved one for lunch. Trust the judgement of the staff, and take the time they give you to regain the energy you need to work for yourself. Despite the tragic accounts you hear on the news of abusive caregivers, most care facilities are not bad places. Trust the research you did before admission. Trust the doctors and nurses on staff, and trust your own instincts when talking or visiting. While your care and attentiveness are just as vital now as before, being on guard every moment is not helpful. Relying on other providers to be there in the case of a fall, a bout of dementia-caused depression or confusion, or an afternoon meal means you get to choose to help without becoming resentful.

I have a family and career that means I cannot devote all my time to handling the needs of my grandfather.  Even if I did have the time, it is not healthy to spend it all in their service. If you are not able to find or afford a care home, be sure to spread out your obligations to your loved one through adult day care, other family members, or even their old friends and family of similar age. It takes a village to handle the needs of your loved one. Don’t close yourself off to help out of stigma or a sense of martyrdom.

The cynic in me wants to be melancholic about how we treat people with dementia. At worst, I am confronted with a feeling that we are warehousing our loved ones. At prohibitive cost, we may be draining generational wealth to, at-best, ensure a minimal quality of life or stave off a progressive disease in a single person. The broader existential questions raised by dementia healthcare and similar chronic and debilitating conditions should never overshadow the real care you provide for your loved one day after day. You are moving mountains. You are providing loving care. And they can feel your love even if they can no longer express it in words.

Having a loved one with dementia means that you get to say the longest goodbye. They may have lost the ability to express their feelings in the same way, but they can feel your calm and care every time you visit with them for just a bit longer.

This is not a comprehensive log of all struggles you may face by any means. But I hope these personal accounts can help you overcome what dementia throws at you. And I hope it can give you the strength to withstand those challenges to see a better day when we know more and can do more to help the ones we love.

Militarum Tempestus Start Collecting: Commissar

 I bought a Tempestus Scions Start Collecting box from Games Workshop, part of their Adeptus Militarum line, with the intention of painting them in memoriam for my father who passed in 2017. After four years and some tribulation, I completely painted the entire box.

This single figure Commissar from the Start Colecting box was a chance to relax and flex a bit. All the shading and color blending I learned while fixing my Scions was put to work, and I stretched with some white fabric and glowing plasma.

It’s fairly by-the-book in Commissar, notorious for their imperious glares and habit of shooting their own troops to “restore morale”. The color scheme matches the classic maroon and black greatcoat with gold trim, and I didn’t bother converting it much beyond elevating the base to match the Scions. But executing the blending and layering on color after color helped solidify my skills for future minis. 

Rather than completing one color at a time, this is the first mini where, from the very start, I blocked in all the base colors before moving to shades and highlights. It worked so well on the Scions repaint that I had to try it from scratch. I worked all base colors into place, working from skin out to metal doodads, and then I layered them one after the other. While I felt like I had my entire paint collection out at once, it saved time and countless touch-ups to get the base coats and boundaries defined so early. I resolved to use it on my next batch painting job: a squad of Skitarii, a marshal, and a Dominus tech priest.

Having done plasma glow on previous models, I feel the biggest skill increase came from painting the white sash. Ever an intimidating color, the white on the sash was an affair of patience. The almost-grey Corax White base provided excellent coverage over a black base. And it was shaded blue theater. Then highlights worked up from grey to white to really make the blue shade pop. This dash of blue shade drew out the purple from the maroon overcoat. It also helped complement the plasma glow and optics to tie the miniature together.

I can see numerous ways to touch up this mini were I to go back. The chest needs some neatening up, and the plasma glow could use a bit of help. But it’s the plain metal sword that sticks out the most. I might want to try a better technique than edge highlighting to make the flat metal surface more believable.

All in all, this character model worked as a confidence builder after such a long slog like the Scions. I’m glad the Start Collecting box is done, but I’m also not rushing out to buy more. I already have one infantry-heavy army to collect, and they are plenty-detailed and challenging.

Citadel Paints App Scheme

AWS CLI SSO Login - "Could not connect to the endpoint URL" Error

When attempting to log in via AWS SSO on the command line, you may encounter an error like below:

> aws sso login --profile <profile-name-from-aws-config>

Could not connect to the endpoint URL: "https://oidc.<region>.amazonaws.com/device_authorization"

I had not changed any settings.  It just randomly stopped working.

While I'm not sure of the root cause, restarting the PC has fixed it for me more than once. I have also thought that renaming your ~/.aws/sso folder might do the trick.

AWS CLI v2.2.43

Selling Lego - Memories and Moving On

In May of 2019, I embarked on an emotional journey that would end with me saying goodbye to most of my Lego bricks.  

Moving across the country with a 26ft U-Haul afforded a lot of wiggle roomwhen deciding what to move, and I wasn't ready to part with my most sentimental items. I wasn't prepared for the emotional flood when a friend suggested I part ways with my childhood Lego block collection. They were milestones of my childhood: I could recall which ones I got when, and the time I spent assembling castles or space ships seemed like bastions of stability in the midst of family turmoil. I was an especially fastidious child, and I made sure I had all the instructions, and I even have a scrapbook of letters I sent to Lego of America looking to reclaim a few pieces that had gone missing. I was obsessed.

I discovered a Bricks and Minifigs in our local mall, and my ears perked up when they said they bought old sets. After 12 long years of waiting, I realized my son just wasn't into them, and Marie Kondo'ing the lot seemed more and more attractive than keeping them. The rules were the collection had to be unpolluted by inferior MegaBlocks and K'NEX. They also couldn't have damaged bricks that had fallen to teeth, sun, and other damage.  They would pay a premium for complete sets and would also buy in bulk. So I had my work cut out for me:

In the end, I organized by color to make the assembly and culling easier, and then I assembled all the sets I could muster.  Countless yard sale acquisitions and thrift store hauls meant I was swimming in Tyco and Megablox as well as a fair amount of discarded Happy Meal toys. Fifty liters of Lego dwindled to a few hard-to-categorize pieces as we pawed and pushed. I made one last ditch effort to see if my son showed enough interest to keep them, but alas.  He was more interested in the sale and conversion to cash and other fun activities. As we assembled and found pieces had gone missing. In almost all cases, an hour in the bins at the resale store lead me to the right pieces. We were whole again!

The culling and assembly took us the better part of a month.  As much as it cleared space, it also helped me process the loss. I used my saved copies or hunted up online versions of the instructions for each set. I resolved early on to keep a few of the most sentimental ones instead of trying to save everything. One of my earliest memories was of Lunar Lander 6881 which I won at a raffle during a two-night stay in Child Haven after my brother and I were taken from my mom by NV-DCFS. I kept my coolest acquisitions, the big ship from the Ice Planet set (I never got the base), and the medium Imperial Navy ship for which I still had the sails.  And I made an effort to return the classic Blacktron ship to my brother after replacing the most missing pieces of any in my collection. I felt whole, even as I was loading the completed sets into the car for the last time.

 

The sale was quick, cash was in hand (I don't even remember the number now, but it was over $200), and we were back on the road. Several weeks later, I visited the store again to find my own sets back on the shelves ready to start their second life. The big sets will probably sit on a shelf until I have grandkids (if I even remember to pull them out). But I kept a set of my favorite minifigs just for show. They reside on my wall in a shadowbox.  They deserve the rest.