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Greetings again Newgrounds!
It has been awhile. Not for lack of trying mind you. I'm still working on many projects to show your face. This, is not really one of them. This post is about that thing you've been hearing about so often, the kickstarter.
Look at that, a kickstarter me and other friends are involved with. It's a game about exploring a graveyard and reading epitaphs. It's about the nature of the legacy we leave behind and the stories there are to be discovered in places we don't always think to look or take for granted. You know, artsy stuff like that.
If you have a moment you should check it out, because if it does well, I'll totally be paid for pixel art and junk, which is something that is nice, being paid. Oooooh how sweet being paid is.
If you think it sounds awesome, show it off to a friend of yours, to help promote its glorious glory.
If you think it sounds dumb, show it of to an enemy of yours, to punish them for daring to be your enemy.
It's actually doing surprisingly well, especially considering the 'does this really count as a game?' basis of it. Pre ordering the game only costs like five dollars, so really, what would it cost you to pre order a copy?
(The answer is five dollars)
All of you have a wonderful day.
I think i heard from some lit professors once that poetry was the voice of the soul.
I gotta say, I think that means that most of us have morons for souls. Or a stupid little soul moron living inside our soul like a soul golem that's a moron. Especially me. I recently started a poetry blog. In which I write poetry. This is not a good thing.
Here is what I have been told is the BEST of the poems I have written:
On top of a mountain crisscrossed with bones
there stands one creature all alone
with eyes of fire that steam forth hate
and a bill that's black ass hell's gate
there waits, the doom duck.
The bodies of those that have come before
litter around his blood stained floor
There is no hope for those that come
He's faced a million, you are but one
He doth be, the doom duck.
Red of feather, from all the blood
His soul as bitter and cold as frozen mud
he does not only slaughter, he prefers to maim
so he can hear the dying call out his name.
The name, of the doom Duck.
Fear sustains him as a fine wine
And he guards the clock that ticks down time
The end of days can not be stopped
the fowl feathered shadow is about to drop
the beating wings, of the doom duck.
So give into despair and give into defeat
Go home to your family, cook some meat
smile and laugh and have a grand time
forget all about this silly little rhyme
forget all about, the doom duck.
That is the best poem, apparently. I've been doing the blog for a month. Attempting to average a poem a day. Ouch. They range from things about cookies and naked people. Fetishes about grass. Things like that. Some of them are even about stuff like death. Super seeeerious terrible trite stuff.
Read it and despair. Or don't read it and just you know, live a life of normal.
It is attached! The beautiful image of what I have made. See it in all its pixelish glory.
No, it isn't the beginning of any kind of project or anything like that. I made it just becaaaaaause. Look at how amazing.
It is perhaps even more beautiful, then the first sunrise that ever was. Perhaps more beautiful then the rain that falls but once a year on the tiny desert lands. Perhaps it is even more beautiful, then the first time a child's cry was heard upon this land. Or perhaps it's some mediocre pixel art done in the style of fire emblem and Gradius.
Take careful note of how i failed to properly center and balance the text.
This is the kind of boredom that being out of work will force you into kids. Stay in school, get a job, and don't waste your life and dreams on becoming a fairly medicore at best, pixel artist. It is not worth it.
But look at those space ships! Pew pew! pew! Vrrrnnsh! BRAAOONNNGZNN!
As for the image, it's uh... three people, one is short, one is a lizard person in a space suit, another is a pink haired individual with some kind of laser sword, all of them are standing in the shadow of someone evil. Or, someone with reaaaally bad scoliosis. While behind them, tiny poorly drawn space ships fight, one of them may be REALLY poorly drawn, or exploding. It is not clear which is its fate.
The image also proclaims 'Space, Volume One' or 'Volume One, Space' it's hard to tell which way it's supposed to be read, considering that the word space is first... yet below. Counter intuitive to all western style reading. Then, even more confusingly, below all that, in the bottom corner, is the phrase 'Dueling Galaxy' as if someone wanted to fill an ungly while space in the image. So which is it? is this thing called Space? Dueling Galaxy? Volume One? If this isn't the start of some project what does any of that even mean?
Nothing, my friends. It all means nothing.
Anyone out there that doesn't know what Fiverr.com is, well it is a bizaire place where people offer to do really odd things for five bucks. Like this man here will juggle a soccorball with your message written on it: http://fiverr.com/brettmanu11/juggle-a-soccer-ba ll-with-whatever-you-want-to-say-on-the-ball-and -show-it-to-the-camera-at-the-end
This guy will pretend to be crazy eddie for five bucks... for fifty he'll take his shirt off: http://fiverr.com/mr_marcus/perform-as-crazy-edd ie-from-the-70s-and-80s-commercials
I myself made one where for five bucks i'll make you a crappy pixel art image: http://fiverr.com/poetry_is_hard/create-a-pixel-
The weird thing is, people actually pay for these things. Now admittedly, The guy who will take his shirt off is damn, but the part that is really weird, is that people will pay for this. I think fiverr may be getting dangerously close to communism. Dangerously, close. Look at these people, throwing up terrible ideas, getting paid to draw Yoda saying something funny, or speak in a weird accent, or cry on demand.
I would admittedly pay five dollars to see someone dress up as yoda and speak like him, and walk around like him, and pretend to have a lightsaber fight with a tree. I would pay for this in a heartbeat, but only if the yoda costume was of a high quality.
The site also lets me do this. Not dress up like Yoda... well it gives me that option as well, but it lets me ask other people to dress up like Yoda. You can tell people "I will pay you five dollars to do something stupid." Only stupid is replaced with something esoteric, like... "Design a concept for a Juice Bar. " "Research 100 low carb breakfast recipes," "write a 1500-2000 word hot romantic short story." These are the kinds of things people will pay five dollars for, and those desperate for five dollars might actually do it. Though 1500 words is a lot for five dollars.
Fiverr is a weird place. Something about it gives me the creeps... I'm not sure what. it might be that someone wanted me to draw 'them killing their sister with a rusty something' but there are other creepy things about it. Like how the site is covered in primary colors. Don't they know that cool sites use dark colors?
This horrible communistic plot must stop... wait... communism... capitalism... have money... fill a need... spend money on goods and services... this is a distribution of wealth...
Is there a difference between communism and capitalism? Because suddenly they seem really similar. Though that begs the question of whether or not a true capitalistic or communistic system has ever actually been allowed to exist. If it has never been seen how can we truly argue the benefits of one or the other and- I'm getting off topic. So I'm just going to stop.
This would normally be the point when I would tell you to buy my fiverr gig because I like money, but no, don't, because I'm a terrible pixel artist and the little pixel figure I give you will be sub par and worth three dollars at best.
To craft the perfect animal, one must first look at examples. There is the platypus, widely judged as a whole hearted failure on the ground floor of creation. Then there is the narwhal, widely considered amazing by most sentient life. Everything else lies somewhere in between...
Now if we're building a perfect animal, first we must start with the head of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. If you have to ask why, then you do not belong in this conversation. It should be given fur, because many furry things are scary, and fur is soft and awesome. So it could be both cuddly and ferocious.
It would have like thirteen legs. Maybe sixteen. Or two. Six... six legs. One for each day of the week. And a tail, for Tuesday. Which in most calendars used by civilized men and women, is not a true day of the week but a strange abnormally kinda time warp weird point. The tail would have a stinger. For stinging.
It would need the bravery of a thousand noble dogs, and sixteen lions. Its heart would be a hole, from which no feelings of joy or remorse could escape. It would have only the uncaring unfeeling dedication to its goals. A perfect beast ready to do its owner's bidding. Also, it would have the cunning of Alexander the great, and the brain of Abraham Lincoln.
For eyes, it would have.... violet ones. The middle bit would be all like.... plushy. But tough underneath the plush, kevlar plushy!
It would be capable of sonic attacks, fire breath attacks, candy beams (beam of candy), and it would have a compartment for storing things in. It would only need to eat the spleens of my foes, and would three times a year lay an egg of pure gold.
Also, its name would be Zantar! Defender of the realm of truth!
It would be my best friend.
Goggles are the most amazing things ever invited. Some might consider them the refuge of world war 1 pilots, idiots who ride motorcycles without helmets, and steampunk fans, but that doesn't need to be the case. Everyone should wear them all the time, except while showering... and sometimes even then.
You don't think you need goggles in the shower, but anyone who has gotten shampoo in their eyes knows there are times they're useful. Way more useful then shower caps at least. Those things look wacky.
Have you ever been walking down the street, and then a man throws a snowball with a rock in it at you. Or worse yet, you try and shoot out a metal sign with a Red Ryder BB gun, and the pellet bounces back and makes your eyeball explode in its socket all graphically? Now if you'd been wearing goggles that wouldn't have happened. Though you would have cracked your bitchen goggles, which is almost as targic.
Goggles go with every kind of clothing, evening wear, casual wear, naked wear, upside down wear, outfits made entire of goggles wear.
The only time it is not okay to wear goggles is......... if a man has threatened to melt the world with some kind of acid, if anyone puts goggles on. If you wear goggles when this happens, you're just being rude.
Don't run with scissors they say, as if this is good advice. As if scissors need special attention. Unlike knives, saws, guns, and other things, as if scissors in particular thirst for the run. For the blood that comes from the run... And they do.
Anyone who has held a pair of scissors knows, feels their desire, their need. cosmic energy that flows from the scissors to the wielder.
Run. Run with me. Run faster then satan could ever see...
The scissors always whisper. Dark images of running, sprinting, falling, spurts of blood from eyes and necks. The terror of the reason why you shouldn't... but...
Run... run with me... feel the wind and the freedom... the danger makes it delicious, a taste you can savor...
The scissors whisper, you know it's wrong, well all know its wrong, and yet... I have run with scissors, wild and free. I have run with them through the streets, hollering primal obscenities to the gods themselves.
Just once. Long ago... but i still hear the call. Deeper then the lust for sex. More instinctual then the need for food. More honest then the thirst for water...
Run, run with me...
It haunts me still. As it haunts each of us. Haunts us every night, when the moon is full and glistening with the lies of their dreams.
Or maybe just me.
2011-09-03 15:21:38 by Emptygoddess
Like most of you I have spent my life watching, playing, creating, and being pissed off by stupid and poorly done fiction. Now, while i have yet to see any real solid proof we are not in some giant alien reality show, or bit players in someone's action adventure that has a surprisingly detailed amount of fluff, I can say for damn certain I'm not a main character.
I don't dress cool enough. People don't forgive me for being a sociopathic asshole enough. I don't randomly treat my friends like crap only to learn moral lessons, and even when I'm being boring exciting things don't just happen at me. Except the normal exiting things, like almost dieing in a car accident, or finding out your uncle has cancer, or someone trying to kill you in the bathroom because you were 'mad doggin them all night'.
I still don't know what Mad doggin' is, but I actively attempt to not do it, because I enjoy my neck to remain unbroken and my body un-stabbed, and those who think I have been mad doggin' them feel differently. All I have gleaned so far, is I do not think it involves being angery, or being a dog. I am neither yet still managed to accomplish it.
While this attempted murder was interesting, my point is that it wasn't a story that lead to a chain of adventurous events where all seems lost right before the end and yet comes together in an epic moment of glory! (or failure if the story is sad!) Instead it was just terrifying for like a minute. I believe i wet myself. It would have made a horrible movie, an atrocious short, and a truly despicable TV show and as a book or comic? Pfffft.
I guess I might be a main character of one of those really boring crappy slice of life things. where stuff happens and it's all edgy and real.
I sure hope not, those things suck. It would explain some stuff though...
...so here I am, in the country of Japan.
I'm in the future of course, for anyone that's worried on Friday the world has still not ended.
I went to the McDonalds here, mostly to see what it was like. I saw something that shocked me to my very core. Here, and apparently in Malaysia, they have a burger with four meat patties. They call it a mega mac.
It is decadence without cause, an example of human gluttony taken to near exotic proportions. It is on par with the burger that uses grilled cheese sandwiches for buns, or the KFC sandwich with chicken for bread. The pizza that's also a burger. It is no longer a meal, and becomes an ordeal.
I do not understand.
Why in a country known for its healthier eating habits and lifestyle from the US would they have something like this?
The burger is bigger than some people I have met here. If it came alive through the power of magical crazy burger magic, it could go on a killing rampage and begin eating humans. Nothing could stop it.
That said, it's not much more expensive then a normal big mac or a double quarter pounder, so if you desire that much meat it's a good deal.
I have not nor will I eat it, as I do not desire that much meat.
Also, I'm pretty sure the crows and ravens and things here in Japan are watching me.
Greetings people who read the random musing of a random person. I'm not sure why you do that, but it does make someone like me feel slightly more connected to total and ambient strangers! Also didactic.
Those of you who have read every single one of my newgrounds internet journal posts will remember that I posted some time ago I was looking for an action script programmer to help me finish a game, because the person I had been working with, flaked like he was made out of really old person skin from a really old person who never moisturized.
Update 1: I have not found a programmer.
Update 2: I hate all of them.
Update 3: I don't really, but I've had a disheartening run with them.
The first guy: worked with him for like six months, great guy, great artist, great programmer. Disappeared off the face of the earth after leaving me some IMs that read like 'hey, dude ; -; are you around?'
I really hope he didn't kill himself because I was busy buying energy drinks from 7-11 and had left my computer on and he needed someone to talk to and thought i was ignoring him. That would be horrible!
Second guy: Turned out he didn't actually know any more about flash programming then me. It took a month to realize this, because I am dumb.
Third guy: Turned out he was the second guy using a different internet name. Took me a month and a half this time. Because I am REALLY dumb.
Forth guy: Asked to be paid money, I was like 'sure, i will pay you money, I've been working on this game for like a year, i just want to finish it. Please. Let the nightmare end.' and he was like, HA HA! YEAH! LETS DO THIS!
A few weeks later he sent me an e-mail basically saying my game sucked, I sucked, and he didn't think anyone would play it. He was so despondent he wouldn't let me pay him for the time he HAD spent on it. I tried!
I cried myself to sleep that night.
Fifth guy: Turned out to be the second guy again. It only took me a week to realize this. I'm pretty sure he is the devil.
Sixth guy: Actually a girl. Technically still working with her... though she hasn't returned an e-mail for three weeks, so I'm going to assume that she is also the devil.
Seventh guy: Teacher at a collage that teaches a course on flash. I showed him the game demo and he was like 'Bazam. Crackalakin. This is awesome. Yeah, i can bust that out in like two, three days. Tops.' i was quite pleased.
After two months of 'I'll get to it tomorrow' he eventually sent me the inevitable 'i will never get to it e-mail. I do not hate him.
Eighth guy: No one yet, but I have a feeling it'll be the second guy again.
The ninth person might very well be me if I can ever get past that point in my AS programming skills where the little figure doesn't gyrate across the screen randomly like he's having an epileptic fit.
I took a flash programming class, and that's what I turned in for my final project 'epileptic gyrating 8-bit stick figure man'
I got a B.... minus. The teacher said the only reason he did not give me a worse grade was because how i would swear at my computer mid class when the program wasn't doing what I wanted amused him.
So, if anyone out there is a flash genius and not a flaky person, feel free to contact me.
If you're not a flash genius and/or are a flaky person, feel free to contact me just to mess with me. I don't actually want you to do this, but it is not like I can stop you. If this ordeal has shown me anything, it is that I have no power to generate any kind of respect, output, or work ethic from anyone.
All of you have a wonderful day! Remember, if you see a ninja, kill it just to stay safe. Every eighth ninja drops a full heal.