| (no subject) |
[Sep. 28th, 2009|05:11 pm] |
We Are Fun Watch This Space.
I recently ordered an import copy of RockBand 2 from HMV in England.
EA released the first iteration of the game in our territory barely a month before Guitar Hero World Tour, proving that ridiculous distribution will see abysmal sales and consequently the newer version has never seen an antipodean release.
I put it in the 'box, fired it up, constructed a butt ugly avatar and belted out a stellar performance of Eye Of The Tiger before turning it off, worryingly elated and more than a touch mortified.
Then, just last night the band got together and performed - the newly minted and aptly titled We Are Fun.
Many thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) butfirst, ishtasm, curskineville, omenode, Kel, assorted guests and a boardgame of initially dubious enjoyment for making it a pleasant transition into forty one.
Worst present ever? A copy of The Happening. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 23rd, 2009|09:15 am] |
It's cold and tastes bad.
I've been up since five am watching the dust storm blow in on a frosty wind, looking nothing less than a blood red apocalypse.
At around seven I went onto the rooftop and the air was still, particulate, cold and filled with distant sirens and alarms.
The sky is currently a frosty apricot, occasionally deepening to an orange blush as the central desert dust that has blown in settles on everything.
YouTube video of the dust storm turning Broken Hill to night. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 11th, 2009|05:09 pm] |
A million and one ways to gay up your avatar.
Guilty pleasure.
Performing the vocals solo on Rockband when there's no one else in the apartment. I can shakily warble through every octave and the crowds still cheer me on for more!
Wave of Mutilation for one hunnerd percent! |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 6th, 2009|05:08 pm] |
We test drove a couple of convertibles yesterday - it was picture perfect with the top down, sunny day, scenic route, overenthusiastic sales rep bleating away in the rear seat about eight airbag safety and blahblahblah control.
The desperate hilarity of the salesman performing a graphic demonstration of the consideration given to pedestrians when hit front on by the Peugeot 380cc's plastic crumple zone and aerodynamic bonnet was a highlight of my day. I had to look away as he sprawled ungainly over the hood of the car.
As Kel remarked - it's not matter of if you hit a pedestrian in the new Peugeot 360cc, but when!
I've been playing Sacred 2: Fallen Angel and the interface all seems to be arse backwards. Levellng up systems and the branching skill tree runes are not adequately explained and I'm just resorting to button mashing. Which is about par for most isometric RPG's on consoles but this seems positively arcane and counterintuitive.
And the camera sucks.
But I just got a magical Drumstick Of Whacking for helping out a heavy metal band called Blind Guardian who performed a whole song in game and this whimsy puts aside all my protestations to the negative.
Gamertag mutleyjames on Xbox360. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 3rd, 2009|04:49 pm] |
Why yes, yes it is an excerpt from the dullest comic I've ever had to draw. |
|
|
| It's always firemen... |
[Sep. 2nd, 2009|09:14 am] |
I find the creation process of other artists eternally fascinating. Especially when the impotent tears of joy at seeing how much awesome can be stuffed into one person have finally dried on my cheeks.
Here's a lazy breakdown of the fourth fireman-themed piece of advertising I have illustrated - which could be considered suspicious under any circumstances other than perhaps I quite like drawing firemen.
This is my rough approximation of the layout sketch the art director sent me.
It could have actually been a stick figure drawn on the back of a wet napkin in lipbalm, I don't care - so long as the rough has the information I need to make it all go terribly wrong.
( But how do you get it all so stuff? ) |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 1st, 2009|02:14 pm] |
I've got a fair amount of unused concept roughs lying around. Rejected client revisions, misguided brief resolving and the stuff that needs to be hidden back under the empty pizza boxes behind the fridge. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 22nd, 2009|09:40 am] |
We're babysitting lightning fast hairballs with monster breath and chew toys.
Wriggly puppies are very wriggly. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 20th, 2009|01:45 pm] |
There's that satisfactory *paper crumple* sound while I archive work that is over eighteen months old and trash the rest.
I don't even remember drawing this.
Nor to which client it belongs due to a cryptically labelled folder hidden within an even more ambiguous pile of reference of smiling people somewhere to the left of everything.
It's like I'm not even there at the time. |
|
|
| INCONGRUOUS FINGER! |
[Aug. 19th, 2009|02:55 pm] |
The secret society of polydactyls bids you good welcome! |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 19th, 2009|09:45 am] |
Oh lords of procrastination, let me continue to bathe in your tears of distraction.
May you always continue to obfuscate my path with shiny objects, mesmerising baubles and pointless online quizzes.
Should I no longer needlessly delay, help me postpone that what must be done until tomorrow.
brb |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 12th, 2009|04:03 pm] |
I'm watching a film crew record some footage for a cop show from the second floor of the Grand Mercure Serviced Apartments in the Melbourne Docklands. I have patchy, intermittent internet and worse television.
It's grey, wet and entirely atmospheric which naturally makes for good sleuthing and bristling moustaches.
Amongst other things recently I've destroyed our food processor making skordalia and watched the Torchwood: Children of Earth five part miniseason.
I will attempt skordalia again. All I need is a hardier food processor that won't turn into a smoldering slag of warmed garlic and plastic smoke - but Torchwood was something else altogether - well done BBC, you've made it clear I'm as emotionally sturdy as my machine trying to mash potato.
I'm reading China Miéville's The City & ʎʇıɔ ǝɥʇ and playing Prototype on the Xbox. One is a kafkaesque multilayered murder mystery set in a juxtaposition of realities that are attempting to coexist within the same space and the other allows me to run up the side of a building, karate kick a helicopter out of the sky and pound the living shit out of it.
Here's a storyboard panel that was a little more hooray than usual.
 |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 1st, 2009|03:30 pm] |
I lost this job to an eight-year-old because I am unable to draw as much like an eight-year-old as an actual eight-year-old can.
One of life's little unsurprises. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 27th, 2009|11:14 am] |
Ah, crap. Now I have to pump up the onscreen font size to oldmansquint pt.
On cold days I like to shower at the exact same temperature that makes the pipes wail like Kirk at a KhaaanFest. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 22nd, 2009|10:13 am] |
Craft market and Collectable Fair Dog can look into your very soul.
And it's not happy with what it's seeing.
And this. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 21st, 2009|04:28 pm] |
While personal projects are fairly slim right now and the threat of unicorns suddenly appearing on the nonce even thinner, I'm not adverse to adulterating my work assignments beyond recognition.
These kids all know that you'll never ever ever understand them, not in a million years because the only ones that understand are their sesquillion oidkin friends on GalactBook. You're too old to even know what I'm twattering about. Sadface. |
|
|
| Part the Last |
[Jul. 21st, 2009|12:23 pm] |
Delightful image courtesy of butfirst
I've given up reading the Gregory Benford novel Beyond Infinity as the damage it was doing far outweighed the benefits of serializing it here - of which there were none, just more pain upon hurt.
The online reviews on Amazon.com surprise me. Wet praise limply draped faintly all over it's suppurating prose was only barely made palatable by the several one star reviews that summate my own bitter misgivings much more succinctly.
Round and round with no direction, July 30, 2006
This book, like many Benford offerings seems to mistake confusion for art. The story line is weak and development is weak. Benford is, I'm sure a brilliant physicist, and my recommendation is that he stay with his day job.
Actually I hated it so much that I tore the book in half and gave the ending to butfirst whose dismayed cries still ring throughout our suburb as he tries to read the eye-mangling compositions.
Or, perhaps, as Benford would grargle it: The sparkling colourful grey non-motes flensed a puissance that nevertheless was as fetching to what would otherwise be not unlike a hooker on an ancient street corner one billion years gone hence. Lustful dissonance.
Excoriating |
|
|
