Author: Wil

Author, actor, producer. On a good day, I am charming as fuck.

Axis of Anarchy RULES!

Posted on By Wil

A few months ago, Felicia Day asked me if I'd like to play a character in Season 3 of The Guild.

The conversation went something like this:

Felicia: So, I wrote this character for Season 3 of The Guild and I wondered if y—

Me: YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES YOU HAD ME AT "THE GUILD!"

Rob Reiner's Mother: I'll have what he's having.

Felicia told me that she and the other producers wanted to keep my involvement in the show and the the details of my character a secret, because they planned a big reveal at Comic-Con.

So all those times I told Twitter some variation of, "Holy crap if I could tell you what I'm working on right now, you'd be all 'OMG NO WAI' and I'd be all 'WAI' and you'd be all 'awesome!' and then I'd be all, 'I know, right?'" Now you know one of the things I was talking about.

We started shooting a few weeks later, and after some 31-hour shooting days, my work on the show was done. I still can't get into specifics about my character or the story, but I think it's safe (and totally unsurprising) to tell you that working on The Guild was as fun and wonderful as you would expect, and every single person on the cast and crew was an absolute joy to work with.

As I said on The Guild panel at Comic-Con, I've known, written, and performed with a lot of these guys for years, and I'm not surprised in the least that everyone loves them so much. It rules to see so many people in the world (millions per episode, I guess) finding out for themselves what I've known for years.

Season 3 is going to kick thirteen different kinds of ass, and I'm thrilled to be a small part of part of it. I'll talk about each episode a little more after it's released.

Q’Plah!

Posted on By Wil

The obligatory post-comic-con, uh, post is forthcoming, but I'm a little buried in various … things … at the moment.

So, please enjoy this semi-relevant commercial from 1979:

I totally had one of those when I was 7, and my prize was a sheet of iron-ons. I remember being so excited when my mom put Mr. Spock and the science logo onto one of my T-shirts.

(commercial via David Markland on Twitter)

reminder: book and a beer tonight

Posted on By Wil

It's always kind of silly to post these things a few hours before the event (or, in this case, auto-post via programmable future-scope earlier this week) but if nothing else, anyone who came to the thing (which, once again, is in the future as I write this, the quantum reality matrix threatening to unravel around me any second now) can use this post to talk about it.

Now, on to business:

What: Wil Wheaton reads to you while you drink beer.
Why: Really?
When: Thursday July 23rd, 6pm-8pm.
Where: Stone Brewing World Bistro and Gardens
Address: 1999 Citricado Pkwy. Escondido, CA 92029

Original post, what is filled with words and phrases most mirthful and descriptive.

from the vault: local color and flavor

Posted on By Wil

This is from a post that I originally wrote for CardSquad:

The Klondike is a dump, but like many dumps (I'm looking in your direction, Freemont Street) it is a charming
and glorious dump, and an integral part of the character of Las Vegas.

I will never forget my one and only
experience at the Klondike: About a decade ago, my friends and I stopped there for breakfast on our way out of town, to
"soak up some local color and flavor."

We pulled into a mostly-empty parking lot, and walked into a
dark, smoky casino. We made our way past ancient slots and video poker machines with burned-in monitors, and took a seat
at the back of the cramped coffee shop.

Right after we placed our order, a man and a woman sat down at the
table next to us. I forget what she looked like, but he was wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, and was a smelly,
unshaven mess. From their conversation, it was unclear whether he'd been released, or escaped. Either way, the waitress
(who was so drunk at eleven in the morning, we were concerned about open flames) didn't seem to care. Because we were
all in our very early twenties, neither did we. The as-yet-unawakened writer in me furiously scribbled down every
possible detail of what was clearly a moment in time we'd never want to forget.

We ate a traditional Vegas
steak(?)-n-eggs breakfast, while half expecting federal marshalls to burst into the joint, and wondered if any of us
would qualify as hostages or not. It never happened, though we all jumped a little bit when a scream errupted from the
casino as an octogenarian hit a jackpot on the nickel slot. When we finished, we left a twenty on the table (which
worked out to about a ten dollar tip) and raced down Interstate 15 toward Bat Country.

Years later, none of us
could tell you anything about the games we played, where we stayed, or whether we left winners or losers, but we could
all tell you, in exacting detail, about breakfast at The Klondike. In fact, it remains one of the enduring highlights
of any Vegas run we've ever made.