Want to read Slashdot from your mobile device? Point it at m.slashdot.org and keep reading!

 



Forgot your password?
typodupeerror
User Journal

Journal: Getting fonts right

Journal by BRSloth

1: Install Microsoft true-type fonts.
2: You could install them via this script: http://vigna.dsi.unimi.it/webFonts4Linux/webFonts. sh [unimi.it]

Then do the following:

Configure X and Gnome to 96 dpi sudo cp /etc/X11/xorg.conf /etc/X11/xorg.conf.bak sudo gedit /etc/X11/xorg.conf Locate Section "Monitor" and add the following lines before EndSection: # DisplaySize 270 203 # 1024x768 96dpi

# DisplaySize 338 254 # 1280x960 96dpi

# DisplaySize 338 270 # 1280x1024 96dpi

# DisplaySize 370 277 # 1400x1050 96dpi

# DisplaySize 423 370 # 1600x1400 96dpi

Uncomment the line corresponding to your current resolution.

To get other values, use the following formula:

displaysize = {pixelsize}/96*25.4

Remember:

The display size must be "right" so adjust those values till you get your size right.

And goes there: http://bsd.slashdot.org/comments.pl?sid=157571&cid=13206830

User Journal

Journal: Oz

Journal by BRSloth

http://slashdot.org/comments.pl?sid=133534&cid=11152860

All geeks are just failed wizards : (

I'm beg to differ, sir! Geeks are the wizards of our world. Our arts are arcane. We write in code that actually makes things happen when read by computers. When two geeks talk to one another within earshot of non-geeks, the lay folk stare at each other and ask "Are they speaking English?" We tinker. We blow things up. We build the things whose operation to lay folk is a mystery.

Our world DOES possess magic. Science permits us to pull back the veil and see how it works, and technology is nothing more than applied magic.

User Journal

Journal: On FPS Snipping the Ruination Of Gameplay

Journal by BRSloth

http://games.slashdot.org/comments.pl?sid=93600&cid=8035613

In real life. Snipers are a bitch. It takes very real work to take out a sniper in a battlefield, especially a good one.

If I recall correctly, Army counter-sniper doctrine begins with "first, call in an artillery strike..." That should tell you just how serious the armed forces take snipers: the preferred method of dealing with one involves saturating city block-sized areas, one after another, with artillery barrages until there's nothing living larger than an amoeba.

In real life, snipers suck. Unless they're on your side, in which case they're so "cool" they have their own nickname: Murder, Incorporated.

There are only a few well-known snipers (or, as they're called in the Marines, scout-snipers) in the last century. Vasily Zaitsev and Carlos Hathcock are probably the two best-known, Zaitsev working in the Siege of Stalingrad and Hathcock working during the Vietnam War. Zaitsev's exploits are legendary: read the book Enemy at the Gates (avoid the movie, if you want to know the real story) and you'll shudder.

Hathcock's exploits are just as well-known. During the Vietnam War, he and his spotter once eliminated an NVA weapons platoon--around fifty men--in eight hours. It was Hathcock's scout-sniper unit which first received the appellation Murder, Incorporated. To this day, the Marine Corps nickname for their scout-sniper teams is "Murder, Inc.".

Many regular soldiers and Marines hold scout-snipers in contempt. Why? Because regular soldiers and Marines are scared shitless of snipers. They are the total antithesis of warfare. Soldiers understand killing in the heat of battle, when the adrenaline's pumping and you know you're in danger and your buddy just got severed in half by an RPG-7. They don't like it any--and no sane person should!--but they understand it. To a regular trooper, a scout-sniper isn't war: a scout-sniper is the Angel of Death following you wherever you go, and ending your life at a totally random moment, without warning, without escape, without mercy.

A scout-sniper who's working for you may be the Angel of Death walking the field on your side, but he's still the Angel of Death, and troops tend not to like that one bit.

"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come." --Matt Groening

Working...