#Industrial Loans

[theconcealedweapon]

That's literal slavery.

I'll never understand how "free education for everyone" is considered big government but "free education for those who become killing machines on our command" is not.

If you're not willing to use your taxpayer money to pay for someone's education, but you change your mind if they agree to murder people in other countries, then it's not taxes or big government that bother you. It's also not grooming or indoctrination that bother you.

[brother-emperors]

how long do you typically spend drawing a comic page? I'm a perfectionist and I have a hard time keeping a reasonable working pace for comics

so I’m actually going to not answer this one (the answer is both less and more time than people think, and it depends) but instead I’m going to give you some advice on how to deal with perfectionism when it comes to making comics

the first thing is to see if you can kill your inner perfectionist, which basically means, can you get comfortable with imperfections? this is something that can be difficult to do, but it can also really take some weight off your shoulders if you can look at a line that’s a little squiggly instead of perfectly smooth and move on from it. there’s a whole page, a single wonky line, is like. fine, especially if you’re doing more than one page.

if not, that’s okay! we’re moving on to the 75%-80% rule, which is: figure out what giving 100% in art looks like for you, then find out what giving 70%-80% looks like. As a person, you can probably consistently give 80% to any given illustration, but doing 100% all the time is going to fuck you up in the long run. If you can get comfortable consistently giving a 80%, you can then decide when you want to crank it up for dramatic effect, or you can save going all in on something fun or a big project. if perfectionism is a hard habit to break, instead try it reframe it as giving a ‘perfect’ 80% instead of 100. it’s all about that overall visual consistency, baby!

comics can feel like doing seven or eight individual illustrations on a page (panels) and some people definitely tackle them this way, and that makes learning what you can consistently give without wanting to shove your hands into cement very important. If every panel is a solid 80%, the entire page looks Good (which means the entire page is working at 100% because you have visual consistency/coherency and that’s what matters)

ideally, you reach a point where you can gauge what a good 80% of what you can give looks like across an entire sequence. for me, Trikaranos is operating at 80% while Ex Voto is 70% (part of it is that Trikaranos is more demanding, while Ex Voto is more casual and vibes based, but for both I put a lot more work into formatting and lettering)

part of what can help with all of this is figuring out a good work pipeline that encourages finishing up a sequence to keep you from getting stuck agonizing on small details

a decent one is this

thumbnails > rough pencils > do tight pencils where you think you’ll need it (I do tight pencils on facial expressions, furniture if there are bodies on it, and perspective shots) > inks > colors > lettering

adjust it based on whatever your own needs are, etc.

what’s imperative to this is that you don’t do the pencils > inks > coloring stages in sequential order, but instead jump around so that you don’t burn your energy through it (in that there’s a drop in quality as you either get tired or start to rush). Jumping around lets you spread out your high energy points and it picks up the slack for when you want to just get it done, but also it forcibly keeps you from spending too much time on one specific thing. (which is why breaking it up into stages is important, instead something like finishing one whole page from pencils to colors and then doing the next one)

when I do single page comics, I usually alternate every other panel, when I do multi page comics, I’ll either alternate entire pages or I’ll do the first and last pages at the start, and then jump around the middle in whatever order I feel like.

whenever I find myself spending too much time on something, I will set a playlist that has either a 15 minute or half hour run time, and when I reach the last song, if I’m still fucking around focusing on one thing, I’ll make myself move in and return to it later. I do this the most with the inking stage so that I don’t over ink something (I find crosshatching relaxing, but it doesn’t often look good because I do too much in one place and it looks bad because it doesn’t work with the rest of the panels and then I have to start over), and then I can go back to a panel with fresh eyes later and decide whether or not more detail is necessary for the whole page to look good, or if it’s fine as is.

and ofc, the most important guideline of all: the Fuck It, We’re Done rule, which is at some point, you may look at a page and go ‘I don’t want to work on this any more, I’m tired, it’s not fun, I’ll be stuck here forever, etc’ and that’s when you put your pencil down, physically move back from the page, and figure out what the bare minimum amount of work you need to do in order for the whole page to be coherent is, do JUST THAT, and post it.

at the end of the day, it’s the whole page that’s important, not all the individual details, so try not to focus on too many small details early on, but instead go back and add them in closer to the end. You can clean up any line art mistakes that are bothering you here at this stage too.

finally, don’t zoom in too close on a digital canvas, especially if you’re doing pencils. there’s no reason for a reader to zoom in close like that unless you specifically want them too, spare your hands the agony of tiny details that won’t be seen when you upload it at viewer resolutions. I know artists who won’t go past 150% because those details won’t show up at print resolutions.

HEUGHGHHH this is so so long, but hopefully there is some helpful advice in there for you, anon

[tenderflint]

fellow industrial fans!

if you like to read nonfiction i'd very highly recommend the book assimilate: a critical history of industrial music by s. alexander reed. it's intelligent, incisive, easy to read, and very interesting. you can read it on the internet archive here.

[ultimateinferno]

Looking back I think one of the biggest things that got me through uni was that Canvas had calendars that showed when assignments were due and actually let me plan out what tf I was going to do without feeling overwhelmed.

Well... that and being a tutor/TA/lab assistant letting me work on homework during my shifts. Those two things really pushed uni from being agonizing to doable.

[badolmen]

“I don’t know why the op said this happened yesterday when this news is four months old”

This may shock you but it’s an election year in the US and even “the lesser evil” utilizes propaganda.

[moonlessbeast]

Considering starting a gofundme or something for top surgery bc I genuinely cannot keep living like this

[its-yashas-strong-arms]

I really hope I'll get this job. my buffer isn't big enough to be jobless for longer than a month or two after graduation so I need something and this would truly be the best case scenario

[designernishiki]

im at the haruka + akiyama duo section of 5 now and i love it <3 both for the uncle/niece sort of dynamic they have and because i fucking love me a murder mystery baby

[mrsterlingeverything]

Think im gonna drink another coffee at the risk of being jittery for the interview. Im going out tonight and thats my priority and im kinda sleepy

[orchres]

y'all who call liberal westerners "neoliberals" really piss me tf off because that's not even an adjective applicable to ordinary people it is about the socioeconomic policy of privatisation of state assets. how can a person be a neoliberal please. you can be a neoliberal *leader* but hows a rando on the internet who's advocating assimilation as a way to avoid being oppressed neoliberal?

[theconcealedweapon]

"I refuse to use my tax money to send people to college. Unless my tax money is used to send them to war first. Then I'm all for it."

[brother-emperors]

like, I'm old school web comic culture, I like handmade zines that are stapled, I just want to make comics and tell stories and the ranking system of the popular webcomic sites exhaust me to my core, which is why I like tumblr. I want to draw sulla wound fingering crassus and not think about the metrics.

[the-most-sublime-fool]

I got a job in my field but I had to turn it down because they simply weren't offering enough money. It's beyond insulting to be offered minimum wage when I have a master's degree and relevant work experience.

[financesone]

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[wednesdaytonight]

Child of God: Final Revelations (1993) opens with the protagonist sitting in a cool blue-grey waiting room. The receptionist says that the doctor will see them now. The sterile room is claustrophobic, neither the patient or the doctor seen in full. He proceeds down a list of concerns: dreams, voices, impulses. No is said to each. The Doctor ignores the micro-expressions, lying tells and the session is over. A busy coffee shop, they are at a table; over-pouring a customer’s mug, spilling hot black coffee all over the table. They apologize while the customer berates them. Attempting to clean in a rush causes them to knock the table’s cream over which pours over the edge of the table. They look up from the Sisyphean task to a disapproving face from across the room. They are home now, an ugly, filthy studio apartment, they tear off their work clothes and toss them in the proximity of the trash with a heavy finality. Pressing their hands into their eyes they let out a bitter laugh and say as thought to someone else, “There’s an original idea. I could have smashed the pot, climbed up on the counter and slit my throat with the glass.” Choking back their emotions they say, “I want this life. I want to be normal.” They leave to their bathroom and then to their kitchen, caffeine pills, energy drinks. It doesn’t seem to work, they fall asleep in front of a wet canvas, a still life painting. Their mouth is invaded by medical gloves, pill pushed in and water poured in. They wake up as the water runs down their chin. They splutter against the intrusion. The nurse pays no mind, moving away with the medicine cart. The patient is still bound. As the nurse leaves the room, she is jumped by a man and sent sprawling unconscious to the floor. He looks dumbstruck that there is a person in this room. The patient moves their hands out of the restrains, startling the man. Raising their hands up, they slowly reach under their mattress. It is a book. The man asks if they can walk. They share a held stare before they shake their head. The patient is carried, piggy back by the man who introduces himself as John. He is looking for his daughter. When the patient doesn’t respond he keeps up the conversation on his own, verbally confirming that he was surprised to see a person down here, as it had been all just monsters since he got here. They blink rapidly, attempting to maintain a flat expression; they speak to him saying “You need a monster to save your daughter.” He doesn’t seem to understand and they go back to reading with some difficulty while being carried. They navigate him with pats on his back until the pair come to a dark antechamber. There is a clicking sound in the darkness. He draws his gun, forcing the patient to wrap their arms around him from the movement. Distracted by the nearness of contact, the patient bites into his neck with incredible force. He fires wildly and sends the two of them toppling. They quickly peel his coat off in a struggle as he is more focused on his bleeding neck. They retreat to the walls as the priest comes into view, his body elongated moving on the tips of his fingers, arms wrapped around his body, he extends his neck out like an accordion and begins to swallow the detective whole. There is an assortment of wet sounds as we see the patient edge against the wall. The priest calls out to them, knowing that they are there somewhere, that this man couldn’t have gotten this far in without their help. He pulls himself together in a more human posture just as the patient escapes successfully past him, his words still heard faintly as they move. “Arn’t you tired of running, child?” They are. They approach the inner sanctuary, with the altar and tabernacle. The fountain is bubbling so full of blood the structure of the fountain is completely obscured. A pile of naked young women are strewn about the altar, drained and discarded. Visibly unenthusiastic about the task, they start to go through the pocket’s of the deceased detective. Unfolding handful of papers, they pause. It is about them. Their name, age, a picture of their face as a much younger person and their various conditions. Something about this re-ignited a fire in them, they hurriedly dig about in the rest of the pockets. The patient finds a picture of the girl and rushes to the pile of bodies. They roll one after other until they find her. By some miracle, she’s still breathing. The priest was clearly interrupted. The patient pulls her out of the pile, speaking lowly under their breathe “What does it look like I’m doing.” Dressing her in her dead dad’s suit jacket, then, with the best of their ability hoisting her up, a hand reaches out from the carnage causing the patient to cry out. Two other women crawl through the muck of guts and cooling corpses. Embarrassed, they press that they should go now, and the four begin making an arduous way down a narrow side hall. They clear more of the Byzantine interior, the surroundings lit by a dim, red light, moving gingerly down a set of stone steps. There is a loud knocking and they wake, alarmed. Their entire front is covered in Red Lake. The painting has been washed in the red. The knocking seems to trigger some kind of panic attack. Hands shaking, they flip through their book, finding the page they are at now, and move their book mark to it.They do not rise to get the door, for a moment it seems like whoever is at the door has left, until they knock more, harder this time. They get up, using the furniture to support their walking. Opening the door, chain locked still, a man on the other end they recognize as John. He asks them if they have a moment to talk. They ask him what he wants. He states he is a detective looking for a missing girl. They agree to talk, stepping out into the hall. He shows her a photo of the girl on his phone. The panic does not subside as they tell him that they know the girl, they’ve seen her in a dream. The sequence that follows is bringing the detective to the site where the Immaculate Conception Rehabilitation Sanctuary would be. It is just a field in the middle of the woods by a lake, there is digging up of an impossible amount of bodies in various state of decay and the arrest of [citation needed]. Being interrogated, they ask why would they bring anyone there if they were responsible for any of that? To which one of the officer’s in the room says “You sick freaks do all kinds of crazy shit”. Agitated in a way that is not typical for the protagonist, they reply “Good god I don’t have time for this” before reaching across to wrestle the service piece from the nearest cop, putting the barrel of the gun in their mouth and pull the trigger. They wake up, supine, on the floor of the Asylum to a scene of disaster. Rolling over, propping themself up on their hands, they vomit. Voice raw from stomach acids they ask what happened. One of the young women’s legs are mangled beyond what they can deal with, after they had just collapsed on the stairs, the priest appeared. The group moved the best they could, but the two have no idea where they were running off to became lost. The protagonist does know where they are, voicing their fear that they’ll never make it outside. They catch the women up with the situation they find themselves in and the injured woman agrees to the mercy killing. A scalpel is produced from the parent’s pocket, and the patient makes to run it through the eye of the injured woman. She takes their hands and helps them guide it through. She seizes, and they lean their weight in to finish. The remaining group waits until the woman’s death settles her body into stillness, before the patient takes the lead once more. They emerge to the familiar looking space of the pool in the new build area. The priest is there, waiting the arrival of the group. The confrontation results in them scattering, with the other unnamed woman from the pile being caught by the priest. Caught in a noose of beads, he brings a hooked sickle, splitting them from sternum to pelvic. Guts spill out as he throws the woman to the ground, her dying sounds bouncing off the pool walls. The daughter, Abby, is caught by the patient who redirects her to the entrance. Frightened by their appearance, a key is shoved into her hand by the shaking, bloodied other. Abby doesn’t understand why they both can’t walk through the doors, as she is opening them, she is pushed hard, stumbling out into an open field in the woods, with no building in sight. The doors shut, reverberating with finality. They collapse to their knees. 

The whispering voice speaks, reminding them of when they were the only child in their class who knew this one prayer, “That’s how I knew you were special” Asking them if they remember it now, they start to hyperventilate. The voice offers “help” and starts the prayer, expecting them to finish the lines. The visuals fade leaving only their voice “I pray the Lord my soul to take” as the final line in the original trilogy.

[fuzzytimes1]

In Japan, pet fish playing Nintendo Switch charges the owner's credit card

CNN — Here’s something you don’t see every day. Pet fish playing a video game Japan managed to log into the Nintendo Switch Store, change their owner’s avatar, set up a Pay Pal account, and collect a credit card bill. And everything seemed to be streamed live in real time on the internet. The fish in question belong to a YouTuber named Mutekimaru, whose channel is popular with the gaming…