And now, for something completely different: a trip to the Memory Shed. The Memory Shed isn't directly related to BYOND, but inasmuch as being a successful BYOND developer requires coming up with ideas and remembering them long enough to write them on a napkin or add them to your game's "to do" list, I think it's an appropriate subject for BYONDscape. And if you don't agree, well, who's the Editor here anyway?

I read Hannibal a while back -- I don't remember when, but it was before the movie came out, and since the ending was rather unconventional, I successfully predicted that the movie would end differently. But I digress. In the book, kindly Dr. Lecter has a "memory palace" where he mentally wanders around when he wants to remember things. I don't remember all the details, because I myself didn't have a memory palace at the time I read the book; but like Dr. Lecter himself, the idea of a Memory Palace seemed just crazy enough to work. In my case, however, I generally only need to remember things for a few hours at most before I come within reach of a pen and paper, so I decided to start small and build a simple Memory Shed. I'll get back to that in a moment.

The idea of a Memory Palace is rooted in the insight that, although the human mind isn't terrific at remembering lists of words or numbers, it's very good at remembering the locations of physical objects in well-known places. For example, right now I know that the jalapeno-and-cheddar hot dog I bought at the gas station on the way home is currently sitting in a plastic bag on one of the barstools in the Gentlemen's Smoking Lounge downstairs. I didn't need to make a mental note of where I put it; I know it's there because I put it there, and that's where it is. So, if our minds can serve us this effortlessly in cases where we're really not terribly worried about forgetting, why can't they serve us as well when there's something that absolutely has to be remembered? With a Memory Shed, they can!

When I decided, a few weeks ago, to investigate the idea of a Memory Palace, I first did a little Internet research to see if it was the real deal or if Hannibal was just pulling my leg. It turns out that the Memory Palace, and variants of it, are a time-honored mnemonic tradition, and if you search on "memory garden" or "method of loci" or "Raymond Lull" (with whom I was already familiar, but that's a story for another time), you'll find plenty of pages describing the idea. The problem with these methods, however, is that they want you to get all hoity-toity and build a big palace or a sprawling garden with a separate room for every letter, A through Z, and bla, bla, bla. That was far too sophisticated for my meager needs and meagerer ambition, so I tried to think of something small, a place I was already familiar with. A few months ago, when I had a shiny new tax refund check burning a hole in my pocket, I came close to buying a Rubbermaid pre-fab shed, but I never did; now, in my mind, the shed exists right where I would have put it if I'd bought it, and instead of putting shovels and gas cans in it, I put very strange symbolic images.

Let's say you're driving to work and it's a 45-minute commute. Suddenly a brilliant idea pops into your head: your Dragon Ball game can be superior to all the others if you just give players the opportunity to raise pigs and sell them at livestock auctions! It's a doozy of a plan. But you're well aware, what with the lousy drivers on the road and the crappy music on the radio and the overwhelming fecundity of your mind throwing new ideas at you left and right, that by the time you get to your desk the idea will be long lost, unless you happen to see a pig at work and it triggers your recollection. All is not lost! Just come up with a pig-related idea. What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the topic of pigs? I'm sad to say that for me, immediately after bacon and multiple teats, it's Ned Beatty in Deliverance. So right there we have three potential candidates for the Memory Shed. You could put a plate of bacon in there, or, well, come to think of it, there are nearly endless ways you could represent the multiple teats, but let's go with Ned because he's such a memorable fellow and he'd probably be a nice guy to meet in real life. So you picture the following conversation in your mind:

YOU: Howdy Ned! Thanks for stopping by to hang out in the Memory Shed for a while.
NED: No problem, You!
YOU: Ned, I thought you were great in Network and Superman.
NED: Thanks. They did turn out pretty well, didn't they? But you know, I'd bet good money that you're not trying to remember Kryptonite or dehumanization.
YOU: You got me there, Ned.
NED: So, let me guess... it is something about squealing, or maybe about a real purty mouth?
YOU: I -- I'm sorry, Ned. It's pigs. I'm sorry.
NED: Nah, I get it all the time. I'll just make myself comfortable in the shed.
YOU: Thanks, Ned. You're a real trooper. Here, take this plate of bacon and this stack of Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues.
NED: This is a pretty fine shed you got here, buddy!

It's simple and fun, and that's all there is to it! Your idea is safe with Ned Beatty. And later, when the opportunity presents itself, you visit the Memory Shed, let Ned out, and write down your idea for posterity. You should also check in on the Memory Shed periodically to reinforce the images. So far my Memory Shed record is five separate, unrelated ideas stored at once, which doesn't sound like a lot, but consider two things: first, if I tried to remember them as a list of words, some of those ideas would now be gone forever; and second, five is only my record because I haven't had that many ideas. The potential of the Memory Shed is, I suspect, much greater than I have tested.

Let me finally reiterate that I really have used, and do use, the technique I describe here, and it really does work. With that, my friend, you have graduated BYONDscape's crash course in memory management. Give the Memory Shed (or the Memory Luxury Yacht, or the Memory Video Rental Store, or whatever suits you) a try; you can say "thanks for the memories" later.