One of the great ironies of discourse on the Internet is that, while I'm being lambasted here as an old school fundamentalist for having expressed agreement with Trent Foster's post at K&K, I am informed by others that elsewhere I am being excoriated by an inquisition of busybodies for the crime of having played, enjoyed, and written for games published in the 1990s! Quelle horreur! What a terrible straw man punching bag I am -- possessing human depth, complexity, and even contradictions rather than being a nice, simple automaton of villainy, said "villainy" being things many of my commenters here probably wouldn't believe. James played White Wolf games and liked them?! Impossible. Thank goodness I've hidden these dark truths from the world rather than talking about them openly. Why, if word got out I'd be kicked out of the clubhouse and sent off to the Gamescience dice mines to labor until my skin is flayed by precision-edged d4s!
Seriously, guys, I appreciate all the interest in little ol' me and my personality defects, but why focus on such things when there's still tons of really important stuff to quibble about? I mean, we've barely scratched the surface of the Great Armor Class Debate and there's still a lot of life left in the Crusade Against Skills. And of course there's my continuing drive to collect enough aluminum foil and duct tape in order to sculpt an effigy of St. Gary to worship in my basement. So, please, in future, let's keep things in perspective and remember why we're all here.