The artist in thee
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Not the first one though?sky14kemea said:These last 2 made me laugh xD You're an awesome artist!
Suppose I'm not as funny as I like to think. Oh well.
Noooo! Don't think that! D:LiquidGrape said:Not the first one though?sky14kemea said:These last 2 made me laugh xD You're an awesome artist!
Suppose I'm not as funny as I like to think. Oh well.
It's cause I don't actually know who it was >___> Is it from a game? *is oblivious*
I should post in this thread more often.
I'm a Serenity RPG GM, and in all the adventures we've had in the black, the Crew has only once encountered Reavers, and that was with a different GM. I'm about to pit the crew against a frightful monster, and the whole thing will be treated a lot like the movie Alien.
I'm a Serenity RPG GM, and in all the adventures we've had in the black, the Crew has only once encountered Reavers, and that was with a different GM. I'm about to pit the crew against a frightful monster, and the whole thing will be treated a lot like the movie Alien.
"You've never heard of Reavers?"
"Well, uh, campfire stories. Men gone savage on the edge of space killi--"
"They're not stories."
"... What happens if they board us?"
"If they take the ship, they'll rape us to death, eat our flesh, and sow our skins into our clothing. And if we're very very lucky, they'll do it in that order."
"...."
-- Excerpt from Firefly.
Time: About an hour and a half.
"Well, uh, campfire stories. Men gone savage on the edge of space killi--"
"They're not stories."
"... What happens if they board us?"
"If they take the ship, they'll rape us to death, eat our flesh, and sow our skins into our clothing. And if we're very very lucky, they'll do it in that order."
"...."
-- Excerpt from Firefly.
Time: About an hour and a half.
Pose is something you may want to look into. While your proportions are fine, it looks awkward right now for a few reasons. His right hand (the one holding the blade) is inclined at an awkward angle. The big issue is with weight distribution, though. The character looks like he's about to fall over backwards. His butt is just sticking out too far behind him for his balance not to be way off.Firia said:
And... hey I have some images.
Hey all. So, a while back I came up with an idea to draft some art for donation to Childs Play via the Desert Bus for Hope event. I was inspired by last years auction with Ken Staecy. Since then, I've gone into an art college, and whatever work I had begun privately came to a sudden halt.
But recently, I've sort of come to a NEED to do my own work, in addition to school projects. So, I'm picking up where I left off. But it's not done. There are some gaps that I left intentionally unfinished, in case I wanted to go back and add a new character. And that's really what I'm here for. Is there anything you'd like to see?
There's one character I definately want to add; Ripley behind Samus. And probably a Bulbasaur*. But other than that, I dunno!
[sub]*I know nothing about pokemon. This came at the suggestion of a friend.[/sub]
But recently, I've sort of come to a NEED to do my own work, in addition to school projects. So, I'm picking up where I left off. But it's not done. There are some gaps that I left intentionally unfinished, in case I wanted to go back and add a new character. And that's really what I'm here for. Is there anything you'd like to see?
[sub] My artistic stills have improved since I started this piece. Such as, elipses, and circles. So, if you want to give critique, bear this in mind, and go easy on me. [/sub]
The picture is really fuzzy. The paper is bigger than the scanner, so it's not flush with the glass, to get the whole image. And it's cropped at the sides.
[/sub]The picture is really fuzzy. The paper is bigger than the scanner, so it's not flush with the glass, to get the whole image. And it's cropped at the sides.
There's one character I definately want to add; Ripley behind Samus. And probably a Bulbasaur*. But other than that, I dunno!
[sub]*I know nothing about pokemon. This came at the suggestion of a friend.[/sub]
Hey! I've been missing for a while!
So I thought I'd show you this girl I keep drawing.
Unimaginative name I know but I haven't thought of a proper name yet.
A lot more basic then the first one, but that's how I tend to work on characters I end up liking, dumbing it down a little so I can draw them easily.
And that's what I've been doing (Besides comic pages) lately.
So I thought I'd show you this girl I keep drawing.
Unimaginative name I know but I haven't thought of a proper name yet.
A lot more basic then the first one, but that's how I tend to work on characters I end up liking, dumbing it down a little so I can draw them easily.
And that's what I've been doing (Besides comic pages) lately.
Hi guys.
I had to write a poem for English class. Specifically, a sestina. When I was writing it, I had pretty much NO inspiration, so I just ripped off of Fallout 3. Hope y'all enjoy!
I got an A, by the way
I had to write a poem for English class. Specifically, a sestina. When I was writing it, I had pretty much NO inspiration, so I just ripped off of Fallout 3. Hope y'all enjoy!
Back in 2077 is when the bombs dropped.
Everyone cried and screamed as the fire flew up.
Many were done for once the radiation hit.
Others lived, but their skin began to die and fall off.
Yet life on Earth was not all completely lost.
Some people fled into holes underground, although even then they weren't safe.
These holes, made by Vault-Tec, were like one giant safe.
The people inside were happy as the folks outside like flies dropped.
Unfortunately for stragglers, the door locks right at once, so don't get lost!
With everyone happy, the Overseer of Vault 106 brought his email up.
Upon reading his instructions, he ripped the hallucinogenic-gas-seal off.
And at that moment, for all the folks down under, is when insanity hit.
There are other Vaults that survived when the explosions hit.
Like Vault 87, which was hit by a nuke, and made approaching it not safe.
Or number 92, that didn't turn the intercom off.
Eventually people went up top, many years after the bobs dropped.
And what they saw, it was quite obvious that people put some towns up.
Once city was even built around an undetonated nuke, but soon their luck would be lost.
One day from Vault 101, a teenager boy got lost.
A shady man approached him, proposed to blow it up, and even showed which buttons to hit.
The boy, just barely 19, smiled wickedly and said, "Sure, I'll light this up."
A day or two later, the boy and man met, at a tower at a distance so safe.
"Good show, Burke! This boy shall do well indeed!" Tenpenny said as his finger dropped.
His finger pushed in the button, which was met with the boast of the bomb going off.
With a good laugh and a brand new penthouse suit, the boy trotted off.
He was off to fight giant insects, mutants, and the crab-people who had been though lost.
Off elsewhere in D.C. are building that got smashed and dropped.
All of them damaged or leveled or irradiated from when disaster hit.
Only the subways let the survivors of the nuclear holocaust be safe.
Ironically, many tunnels collapsed due to the pressure from the direction up.
Only the military won hands down, since they fired the helicopters up.
Once everyone was loaded up, to their secret bases they went off.
After 200 years of isolation, they believe all life to them is not safe.
And with their weapons and robots, they make yet more lives lost.
With all these misfortunes, despair is quite likely to hit.
Every single person, alive in the wastes, wish that their ancestors never had the bombs dropped.
A wise man once said something before and after the nukes dropped.
"War. War never changes," he proclaimed before his handle flew off.
"And survival is the greatest war there is," which is why one must think before so many lives are lost.
Everyone cried and screamed as the fire flew up.
Many were done for once the radiation hit.
Others lived, but their skin began to die and fall off.
Yet life on Earth was not all completely lost.
Some people fled into holes underground, although even then they weren't safe.
These holes, made by Vault-Tec, were like one giant safe.
The people inside were happy as the folks outside like flies dropped.
Unfortunately for stragglers, the door locks right at once, so don't get lost!
With everyone happy, the Overseer of Vault 106 brought his email up.
Upon reading his instructions, he ripped the hallucinogenic-gas-seal off.
And at that moment, for all the folks down under, is when insanity hit.
There are other Vaults that survived when the explosions hit.
Like Vault 87, which was hit by a nuke, and made approaching it not safe.
Or number 92, that didn't turn the intercom off.
Eventually people went up top, many years after the bobs dropped.
And what they saw, it was quite obvious that people put some towns up.
Once city was even built around an undetonated nuke, but soon their luck would be lost.
One day from Vault 101, a teenager boy got lost.
A shady man approached him, proposed to blow it up, and even showed which buttons to hit.
The boy, just barely 19, smiled wickedly and said, "Sure, I'll light this up."
A day or two later, the boy and man met, at a tower at a distance so safe.
"Good show, Burke! This boy shall do well indeed!" Tenpenny said as his finger dropped.
His finger pushed in the button, which was met with the boast of the bomb going off.
With a good laugh and a brand new penthouse suit, the boy trotted off.
He was off to fight giant insects, mutants, and the crab-people who had been though lost.
Off elsewhere in D.C. are building that got smashed and dropped.
All of them damaged or leveled or irradiated from when disaster hit.
Only the subways let the survivors of the nuclear holocaust be safe.
Ironically, many tunnels collapsed due to the pressure from the direction up.
Only the military won hands down, since they fired the helicopters up.
Once everyone was loaded up, to their secret bases they went off.
After 200 years of isolation, they believe all life to them is not safe.
And with their weapons and robots, they make yet more lives lost.
With all these misfortunes, despair is quite likely to hit.
Every single person, alive in the wastes, wish that their ancestors never had the bombs dropped.
A wise man once said something before and after the nukes dropped.
"War. War never changes," he proclaimed before his handle flew off.
"And survival is the greatest war there is," which is why one must think before so many lives are lost.
I got an A, by the way
My version of the children's story, Piped Piper. The children are along the ledges, indoctrinated and in cult robes, while the rats are the Piper's personal Army, hunting down the adults for not paying the Piper. The moral: don't screw someone who has that kind of power. Done in Photoshop CS2.
Self-portraits are typically boring, so I did it in my typical cosplay. Conte Crayon.
Makes fun of my friend's favorite Link, because let's face it, Red Link is an asshole. Photoshop CS2.
There's more on the back of the card, but I never uploaded it.
There's more on the back of the card, but I never uploaded it.
I had to draw a human figure with multiple art styles; they're Art Nouveau, German Expressionist woodcarving, 30s/40s American cartoon, Japanese Woodblock, Art Deco, and Surrealism. He was so silly looking that I had to show him. Graphite.
Great use of edges to create tension in the image. If you'd really like to get a sense of fog, desaturating and lightening things towards the back will really establish a greater sense of depth.Zemalac said:Another wallpaper, this one for Trivun. I understand he's writing some short stories based around these characters.
[http://img688.imageshack.us/i/swallpaper.png/]
Part 17 is finally done. (You missed it? Part 16 [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/forums/jump/18.72805.4336506] is here.)
Part 18 [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/forums/jump/18.72805.6529613] is here.
When I woke up, Aeryn was still nuzzled into me. I yawned, trying to clear the drowsiness from my eyes, and got up without disturbing her. She fell immediately back into sleep, and I got up and showered. After I cooked breakfast, I woke Aer and called Puppet.
After giving the usual shpeel, he said, "Hello?"
"Puppy!~ You forgot to tell me what time I was supposed to come in today."
"Oh hun, I thought you had forgotten. I was expecting you earlier this morning."
"Whoa, sorry. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Hurry."
"You got it, boss." I said quickly, rushing into the back room to put on my shoes.
"Mmm. Nukey nukey nukey."
"Afraid I have work this morning. Eggs are on the stove. Share 'em with Caime. I'm late, so I've gotta go. Take it easy."
She began pouting, getting as far as "Nukey! Wait!" before I was out of the apartment and most of the way down the fire escape. I didn't even hear the "I did something bad last night..." before I was gone. I vaulted the railing, coming to a shocking crunch on the gravel in the alley, and took a running start toward the coffee shop.
The first day back wasn't nearly as glamorous as I was hoping. Comically, the workers the previous day signed in as "Paul Ringenback." I looked over their checklist, and noted that out of the 24 separate weekly cleaning measures to be taken on Mondays, none of them had been filled out. Official protocol states that any work not done the day before was to be done first thing the day after. I noted that of the three possible shifts that day, all were signed by the same name. All three of them had different handwritings. I couldn't make out the latter two, but the first was still clearly Puppet's. No one else slanted their B's the same way. I scowled, knowing it was his idea.
Ringenback had written a book titled, "Procrastination through the ages: a definitive history." The book was published in the year 1971, and cited in nearly every relevant subject on the topic. It took about a month's legwork, and thanks to a few professional librarians and a telephone operator, I managed to piece together a rough locale for the book. Which ended up being a wild goose chase, having wasted a month on irrelevant research. It ultimately brought me to a PhD text that chronicled by Margaret Aitken. After pouring through an overabundant amount of unnecessary information, I found a correspondence letter from Ringenback stating that the book itself was a big joke.
Perpetual procrastination, in book form. Har har...
I glared at the checklist, and started doing the night cleaning first thing in the morning. A lot of the cleaning at the cafe avoided redundancy, which meant the amount of cleaning I'd get done in the day would have to be re-ordered by importance. I started with the coffee and espresso machines. It wasn't a particularly complicated process, just tedious. I did the same for every item on my re-ordered checklist, prioritizing the daily-use items to get done before opening, and just handling the rest as I also worked the counter. It was a lot tougher than I remembered, my old brainspace had more cobwebs in it than the shop did. By the time I got to the cash register, I realized one or two of the things that needed cleaning had been manufactured.
The point was made clear when the cash register got jammed. I went through all the steps I could remember, ending up with one I remembered on the fly. There was a piece of wire holding the cash drawer closed. I ripped it out and frowned. It took me about twenty minutes, total, to work out how to fix the obscure problems that showed up throughout. After a bit of quiet thinking, it came back to me. Had it been during the day, though, I would've lost customers or created a backlog. Good thing I ran into them during my morning checks or else-
Holy crap. Puppet was a lot more savvy than I gave him credit for. He hand-made these curveballs to throw at me, challenging my mind before any of the customers got in. It was an impromptu training session that retaught me everything I would need throughout the day. It meant a hell of a lot of work, but it was still actively teaching. The checklist was less than a quarter done when I unlocked the doors for the morning, but I had cleaned everything I needed to. I was even fresh, alert, and savvy enough to answer the toughest questions. Doing bad things for good reasons. Freakin' Puppet...
I got back into the swing of things. Customers came in, chatting amicably about this or that. The usual morning buzz had kept me busy, but entertained. I spent the morning catching up, trying to remember everyone's usual order, and just staying alert and on-task. I fumbled a lot, like everyone genuinely expected of me. I was surprised by how much I had forgotten.
The day drawled along after the novelty wore off, and I settled into a good routine that kept the time from going too slowly. Not to mention all the cleaning that still needed doing. I got most of it done by the time lunch rolled around. Fairy was the first to take my shift. "Heya Paul," I said, signing the clipboard for the duties I'd finished. "Glad to see you're actually doing work."
"Whatever Nuke," he said, scratching his head. "You working any more today?"
I scowled, "I have no clue, what did Puppet tell you?"
"He didn't."
"Great." I handed my apron over. "You can do some cleaning. I'm going to call Puppet."
"Hello?"
"Hey 'hun-buns,' you forgot to tell me how many shifts I'm working today."
I could hear a quiet curse, and rolling over. I think Puppet was still in bed. "Ugh." Papers rustled. "Nope, no more shifts today." The line disconnected.
"Did Puppet just hang up on me?"
"Yeah," Fairy said, "I think he did."
"Well, it's all yours, I guess."
"Nope, I've got relief coming. Later Nuke."
I needed lunch, seeing as I rushed out on breakfast. "Bye sexy."
Halfway out of the cafe, I got jostled by someone. Aeryn stared down at me. "Oi, you, it's rude to walk out on a lady in bed like that."
"It's also rude to kiss and tell," I said, trying to settle into an easy smile, "and I think the entire shop just heard you."
"Oh," she said, looking inside. "Um..."
I guided her gently out by the arm, "Right, come with me to lunch."
Curious eyes turned to me. "Lunch?"
"Around noon, eat food. You know, the usual."
"Oh," Aeryn said. "Sure."
After giving the usual shpeel, he said, "Hello?"
"Puppy!~ You forgot to tell me what time I was supposed to come in today."
"Oh hun, I thought you had forgotten. I was expecting you earlier this morning."
"Whoa, sorry. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Hurry."
"You got it, boss." I said quickly, rushing into the back room to put on my shoes.
"Mmm. Nukey nukey nukey."
"Afraid I have work this morning. Eggs are on the stove. Share 'em with Caime. I'm late, so I've gotta go. Take it easy."
She began pouting, getting as far as "Nukey! Wait!" before I was out of the apartment and most of the way down the fire escape. I didn't even hear the "I did something bad last night..." before I was gone. I vaulted the railing, coming to a shocking crunch on the gravel in the alley, and took a running start toward the coffee shop.
The first day back wasn't nearly as glamorous as I was hoping. Comically, the workers the previous day signed in as "Paul Ringenback." I looked over their checklist, and noted that out of the 24 separate weekly cleaning measures to be taken on Mondays, none of them had been filled out. Official protocol states that any work not done the day before was to be done first thing the day after. I noted that of the three possible shifts that day, all were signed by the same name. All three of them had different handwritings. I couldn't make out the latter two, but the first was still clearly Puppet's. No one else slanted their B's the same way. I scowled, knowing it was his idea.
Ringenback had written a book titled, "Procrastination through the ages: a definitive history." The book was published in the year 1971, and cited in nearly every relevant subject on the topic. It took about a month's legwork, and thanks to a few professional librarians and a telephone operator, I managed to piece together a rough locale for the book. Which ended up being a wild goose chase, having wasted a month on irrelevant research. It ultimately brought me to a PhD text that chronicled by Margaret Aitken. After pouring through an overabundant amount of unnecessary information, I found a correspondence letter from Ringenback stating that the book itself was a big joke.
Perpetual procrastination, in book form. Har har...
I glared at the checklist, and started doing the night cleaning first thing in the morning. A lot of the cleaning at the cafe avoided redundancy, which meant the amount of cleaning I'd get done in the day would have to be re-ordered by importance. I started with the coffee and espresso machines. It wasn't a particularly complicated process, just tedious. I did the same for every item on my re-ordered checklist, prioritizing the daily-use items to get done before opening, and just handling the rest as I also worked the counter. It was a lot tougher than I remembered, my old brainspace had more cobwebs in it than the shop did. By the time I got to the cash register, I realized one or two of the things that needed cleaning had been manufactured.
The point was made clear when the cash register got jammed. I went through all the steps I could remember, ending up with one I remembered on the fly. There was a piece of wire holding the cash drawer closed. I ripped it out and frowned. It took me about twenty minutes, total, to work out how to fix the obscure problems that showed up throughout. After a bit of quiet thinking, it came back to me. Had it been during the day, though, I would've lost customers or created a backlog. Good thing I ran into them during my morning checks or else-
Holy crap. Puppet was a lot more savvy than I gave him credit for. He hand-made these curveballs to throw at me, challenging my mind before any of the customers got in. It was an impromptu training session that retaught me everything I would need throughout the day. It meant a hell of a lot of work, but it was still actively teaching. The checklist was less than a quarter done when I unlocked the doors for the morning, but I had cleaned everything I needed to. I was even fresh, alert, and savvy enough to answer the toughest questions. Doing bad things for good reasons. Freakin' Puppet...
I got back into the swing of things. Customers came in, chatting amicably about this or that. The usual morning buzz had kept me busy, but entertained. I spent the morning catching up, trying to remember everyone's usual order, and just staying alert and on-task. I fumbled a lot, like everyone genuinely expected of me. I was surprised by how much I had forgotten.
The day drawled along after the novelty wore off, and I settled into a good routine that kept the time from going too slowly. Not to mention all the cleaning that still needed doing. I got most of it done by the time lunch rolled around. Fairy was the first to take my shift. "Heya Paul," I said, signing the clipboard for the duties I'd finished. "Glad to see you're actually doing work."
"Whatever Nuke," he said, scratching his head. "You working any more today?"
I scowled, "I have no clue, what did Puppet tell you?"
"He didn't."
"Great." I handed my apron over. "You can do some cleaning. I'm going to call Puppet."
"Hello?"
"Hey 'hun-buns,' you forgot to tell me how many shifts I'm working today."
I could hear a quiet curse, and rolling over. I think Puppet was still in bed. "Ugh." Papers rustled. "Nope, no more shifts today." The line disconnected.
"Did Puppet just hang up on me?"
"Yeah," Fairy said, "I think he did."
"Well, it's all yours, I guess."
"Nope, I've got relief coming. Later Nuke."
I needed lunch, seeing as I rushed out on breakfast. "Bye sexy."
Halfway out of the cafe, I got jostled by someone. Aeryn stared down at me. "Oi, you, it's rude to walk out on a lady in bed like that."
"It's also rude to kiss and tell," I said, trying to settle into an easy smile, "and I think the entire shop just heard you."
"Oh," she said, looking inside. "Um..."
I guided her gently out by the arm, "Right, come with me to lunch."
Curious eyes turned to me. "Lunch?"
"Around noon, eat food. You know, the usual."
"Oh," Aeryn said. "Sure."
Part 18 [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/forums/jump/18.72805.6529613] is here.
Well, it's certainly been a while. The distance between parts has been so much as to make me forget good portions of what happened though I could get back into the swing of things pretty easily. Good to know it's still going on and I wonder how you will end up portraying certain characters if they ever pop up (and I don't mean to have that sound like a 'wink wink, nudge nudge' for myself), many IRC frequenters haven't been mentioned and I'm frankly baffled that Wilson hasn't come up yet (or has he and I just forgot). Anyway, good to see a new entry, particularly so because it means you are in the mood to write. Which usually means you have some good juice in ya' to do your thing, which means that I can look forward to at least 1 good review this Review Wars.NewClassic said:
Anyways, here is some recent stuff. The first image is a bit of racial design for my ongoing D&D campaign. I'm introducing two new (playable) races to the campaign. The Zeevrak were featured a while back (they looked kinda like protoss if protoss lived in the world of Avatar) which are a nomadic race from the northern lands. This is the other race, the Chyrling, which is a more tribal and spiritual forest-dwelling race which inhabit a particular forest in the world I've created. The second image is a bit of dragon design I'm working with, which will be lots of fun to work with hopefully. I've gotten the big (actually kind of annoying) task of the dragon's face out of the way, and now I can start on the body. It's also my new avatar...
Sheeeesh. You put a lot of effort into your work, don't you?Fightgarr said:
Don't ask me why it's so oversaturated, photoshop won't abide by my colour schemes...
I guess i could put these in
They arent drawings and I know they are a bit small but the originals are too big
They arent drawings and I know they are a bit small but the originals are too big
I'm a writer, artist and freelance photographer so I'll put up a couple of things I've done and am particularly proud of
Which have my watermark on them.
Randulfr watches Faolan turn over in his sleep, mumbling an incoherency that makes sense only to the one sleeping, and in that moment Randulfr believes if he?s not careful he may fall in love with Faolan.
