#Wireframe Wednesday

[molegato]

Today's #WireframeWednesday is the lovely Frenchy from the game Witchfall!

[roymakes]

Used to see a lot of 3D art back on Twitter, glad to see others like @molegato keeping it going on other platforms. If you haven't played their game Frogun yet, go grab it on steam! Great, classy platformer. I love those low-res pixel textures; they tend to come out quite crummy when I try making them, so I appreciate the talent.

I saw one of their tags as "WireframeWednesday", so let's give it a bash. MR's spawning in to blast some crazy alien noggins!

[ignalina-c0re]

WIP (folder) Wednesday

tagged again by the lovely @thegrandpineapple :x

How it works:

Post a screenshot of your WIP folder and then share some progress/snippets whatever you want to share about some of our WIP's (or all of them). The idea is to hopefully get people inspired to work on WIPs they maybe haven't worked on in a while or get others interested and asking about WIP's that look intriguing to them.

The SRP folder is a mess, so you get my notes instead, and P&P only has one (1) bit tentatively named "let's go up in flames" :,D

From smallest to largest:

The Glittering Curve of the Stars - A Disco Elysium paledriver AU Clegan, where the Buckies are piloting a cargo aerostatic through the pale, and things go very, very wrong halfway through the trip. John is extremely overexposed to the pale because of however many trips and years of working this job, and half of his memories aren't even his. Gale is his new rudderman, and he lost someone he doesn't remember having. Memories get muddy.

Footsteps echo in the wooden body of the gondola; they belong to John, who steps over to the gas panel, checking the values; they belong to the man stepping on to the flight deck, and John stares at him from the elevator wheel. He's his new rudderman, and they've never met before; they've done dozens of trips together, and John could draw the constellation of freckles on his cheek from memory. He's precisely drawn and beautiful, like an icon of Dolores Dei herself; he's precisely drawn and beautiful, and he puts Dolores Dei herself to shame. John doesn't know him, doesn't know his name; he always calls him Buck, and he loves him.

Peonies & Poetry - It's a Clegan coffeeshop AU I guess?? Bucky is a barista, a gym rat, and the world's worst English major, and Gale is a neurotic poet who is probably definitely on drugs. Gale is writing a cross between erotica and love letters to Bucky under a pseudonym that's so far removed from who he is in person that it's basically untraceable, until Curt Biddick and his dot-connecting superpowers happen, and then Bucky has to somehow deal with the fact that the married man so far out of his league it might as well be another universe that he's had a crush on for half a year wants to fuck him really bad, and a few thousand people have read exactly how he wants to fuck him in his latest book.

The Poet is indeed very pretty. Elegant might be a better word for it. He’s willowy tall, with long legs and a trim waist offset by wide shoulders, like a drawing from a fashion magazine. The severe lines of his ink black clothes mirror the severe line of his jaw, the sharp cheekbones and heavy brows. His features, in contrast, are delicately made: he has plush looking lips, full and almost too big for his face, were not the curve of them being so beautiful it’s like they were painted by the Old Masters with loving care; his eyes behind the silver wireframe glasses are the color of the sea on a sunny day, a little melancholy and a lot tired, dark circles almost like bruises under them. John wonders if he ever sleeps at all, or just puts himself on a shelf to charge, next to his sleek chrome laptop and sleek chrome phone, ready to go when his battery hits 100%, clothes still flawless and golden hair still gelled into artistically tumbling waves. 

Stall Recovery Procedures - my baby <3

A BuckyXBuckXRosie post-war happy-end creature where the three of them become airline pilots. It started as "what if i took the three prettiest men in mota, stuck them in the prettiest airplane in the world, and made them fuck, wouldn't that be fun" and now i have seven parts planned, so far 6k words about gale having a mental breakdown that's not even nearly done, three parts about john contemplating his unfortunate taste in men, an entire love letter to the lockheed constellation, one part for indulgent threesome smut with two paragraphs written where i compare rosie to a run-over frog, and this meme:

Pugachev's Cobra - Rosie POV of the entire story of SRP, a sort of overarching narrative I guess? All the other bits are just me elaborating on Cobra basically

Rosie, for his part, thought he was doing okay. After all, when was he not doing okay? He saw hundreds of comrades fall from the sky and he did okay, he trekked through no man’s land with a broken arm and did okay, he dodged bullets, rockets, flak and fists and he did okay, he saw piles of corpses and the gas chambers of Poznan and he did okay. 

Somatogravic Illusion - John POV of his and Gale's reunion after the Stalag, and their one kiss that ruined/saved them forever

Bucky touched the ghost of Gale on his lips, a motion more like drawing a cross in worship than it was just a touch. He knew that either he’ll take this to his grave, or this will be what takes him to his grave.

Holding Patterns - Rosie POV, my newest insane idea. Rosie starts a letter writing campaign to befriend John, and it ends up working a little too well. My big idea for this is that I'm going to make it a mixed media fic: I'm making the letters, and we get glimpses of Rosie's life and his late night phone calls to John inbetween

Graveyard Spiral - Gale POV, Gale is very much not okay post-war, leaves Marge, washes up at John's place because of course he does, and the two of them proceed to go on a mutually self-destructive bender lasting several months until Rosie turns up with an interesting idea...

He dreams that Bucky leans down to press his lips on his forehead, sweet and lingering. He dreams that Bucky peppers his face with with little kisses, each one a tiny flame, drying tear tracks, soothing the ugly bruise across his nose, igniting something, that then fizzes out into radio static and indistinct boozy numbness. He dreams that he tilts his head up and captures Bucky's lips with his own anyway. It's a chaste little thing, soft and fleeting; he feels Bucky smile into it.

Autokinesis - John POV companion to Graveyard, because I couldn't leave John's messy internal monologue well enough alone lmao

The war against himself, against the wholly inappropriate need to kiss Buck until he makes that sweet noise again, feels like it wages on for an eternity, and ends in a truce. John lowers himself slowly, and presses his lips to Buck's fever-hot forehead, a single spark of contact sending fire down the line until the entire system is an inferno; until he can't keep himself from ghosting soft kisses lower, over the bloom of the bruise, over Buck's lids drifting shut, over silvery tear tracks tasting of salt, over a day's faint prickling stubble. Buck tilts his head up slightly, and captures John's lips. It's the fuel tanks rupturing, obliterating every thought in John's head in a fiery explosion, save for I love you, I love you, good God, I love you.

Black Hole Approach - John POV, an exploration of how you move on after you and the love of your life destroyed each other. Set during airline pilot training, and includes a birthday, half a proposal, and lots of realizations

The chill winds that took up around September are bracing in a way that makes him not want to slip back into the blissful embrace of booze. Instead, he looks at the stars, picking out constellations that Buck taught him: Orion, Canis Major, Ursa Minor, Polaris winking at him like an old friend. When the sky is too cloudy, or his head is too heavy to raise, he looks at the landing lights, constellations on their own, guiding sailors home just the same: REIL, edge lights, center lights, steady and unwavering. They don't make him feel grounded, they make him feel tethered, a safety line back to life that won't let him float away into ruin.

CFIT - Rosie POV: had enough angst? Okay then, we're going out with a bang (literally). Or: the Buckies had enough of cautiously courting Rosie, and on a hot summer day in Bangkok, they decide to instead get him drunk and fuck his brains out. And then they live happily ever after <3

There is a short pause. And then a wolf-whistle from John. "Goddamn, Rosenthal. No wonder you flew like that." Rosie is so perplexed by that, he almost forgets to be embarrassed. "Flew like what?" "Like you don't need to compensate for anything. Although now I wonder how you fit into the flight suit. You sure you can handle him, doll?" Gale hums, tracing a hand down Rosie's front. He scratches into the dark curls of his pubic hair, teasing: Rosie can't help the soft moan escaping his lips, the pleasant shiver running through his body. He also can't help his damn nervous babbling. "Who flew like they compensate?" John stops his ministrations behind Gale, who looks back at him quizzically. The moment stretches on, motionless. Then Gale blurts out: "Brady." "Oh, Brady, definitely," agrees John immediately. He chuckles softly, and twists his wrist, earning a throaty groan from Gale. "Little John, always so agitated. Perhaps about his Little John." "You though, you took a B-17, and made it do goddamn ballet." Gale's eyes glimmer with wonder; it makes Rosie flush hot at the compliment. "Now we know how you managed that." Before Rosie can come out with more nonsense babbling, Gale wraps his long fingers around his cock and starts stroking him at a leisurely pace, never breaking eye contact. His gaze is dark and hungry and entirely focused on Rosie, like a lion staring at it's prey. Rosie's thoughts fizzle out.

This is entirely too long and I spent entirely too long making it orz

(I wrote the CFIT snippet just for this post please love me)

Come yell with me about my weird brain children!!

Tagging: @swifty-fox, @feyd-meowtha, @middlingmay, @wwasted no pressure tho :>

[minionsart]

More wireframe shader stuff, result from the stream last wednesday!

[vlad-theimplier]

WIP Wednesday: Custos Custodium

In which Jensen and the Task Force take on Sheppard in Dubai. I rearranged some lines to give a bit of characterization to anyone but Jensen and MacReady (who have plenty), and to make the tactical briefing a little meatier. Apparently, one of the divergence points between our world and the world of Deus Ex is that 10mm caught on over 9mm, but we know NATO exists and still prefers its familiar cartridges.

Anyway, Jensen does actually like some of his coworkers. Read all about it at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55686901/chapters/141357007

“Listen up, all of you!” Miller said in commanding tones. “We’ve finally got a lead on this man, an arms dealer goes by Sheppard.”

Jensen’s eyes widened behind his shades as the name registered with him. This was the bastard who’d escaped their grasp in Detroit—he damn well wasn’t getting away this time. John “Sheppard” Trent, 42, looked the way he remembered from Detroit, anonymous but mean. And as if Jensen needed another bone to pick with the man, Miller added a nugget of new intel: “He’s ex-Belltower. One of the Special Forces commanders who disappeared during the Incident.”

“And he’s come out of hiding?” MacReady asked. “That cannot be good.”

“It’s not. He’s selling weapons and military-grade augments to terrorists.” Miller swiped at the screen to reveal an Indian man with swept-back hair, stubble, and a haunted look around the eyes. “This is Arun Singh, the undercover agent who lured Sheppard out of his hole. Best UC Interpol’s got. For three years he’s worked to get us in tight with the Jinn, an Iraqi smuggling cartel that’s infected the Eastern Hemisphere like a plague. Last week, our arms dealer sent a message to the Jinn, offering to sell them a shit-load of black-market merchandise dirt cheap. They told Singh to handle the buy.”

A woman’s voice came over comms in a German accent, overriding MacReady’s scoff. “They’re not going to like it when Interpol disrupts their party. Is Singh’s cover really that good?” Dietrich, Jensen realized, looking at the screen. And she was worried about the right things.

“It is right now,” Miller answered. “We need to keep it that way.” He swiped again at the screen to show a sprawling but incomplete edifice, jutting out of the sea in graceful curves of steel and white concrete marred by tarps and scaffolding. An inset proclaimed it the “Desert Jewel.” “This is where the deal’s going down: a half-finished high-rise hotel that’s been abandoned ever since the incident. It is not a pretty picture inside.”

“Let me guess.” MacReady, of course. Mouthy bastard. “Most of the laborers were augmented with heavy-duty industrial rigs. So when the Incident hit and they all went schizo, things got gruesome real fast.” He stared at Jensen. Jensen stared back, curling his lip deliberately.

Miller nodded. “And no one except for some homeless junkies has been inside the place ever since.”

“So what’s the plan, Director?” Jensen asked.

“Singh’s meeting Sheppard on the ground floor, inside the hotel’s main atrium. He’s sent the bulk of his Jinn crew to the penthouse levels to secure a vantage point. I want MacReady’s team to take up positions overlooking the atrium and make the arrest. Dietrich, put the SAW and the marksmen on this little artificial island section here, across the lagoon from the atrium, where you can suppress and snipe as needed. Frost, you’re in reserve, up on the roof just back from the atrium. Rig ropes for descent. Jensen, you’re going in solo from the penthouse.”

Suited him fine. “My objectives?”

“Keep the Jinn from joining the party. As far as we can tell, only one route connects the atrium to the penthouse level—a halfway-decent elevator shaft here.” Miller swiped again, and a wireframe schematic popped up insertion points and the elevator in question. “I want you to block access to it.”

“Fine. Just cut me loose. If anyone spots me… I assume non-lethal is preferred? Doubt I’ll have time to cuff ’em, but Singh’s cover will be stronger if he’s not the only one still breathing when this is done.”

Miller nodded approvingly, but MacReady couldn’t resist a jab. “And if anything does happen to him, you’ll be the one telling his wife. After you get out of the hospital, of course.”

Jensen ignored him. So did Miller. “One last thing,” he said. “Singh told us the Jinn are using some kind of portable wi-fi device to boost communications. It could pick up anything he sends our way. He’s got a better chance of maintaining cover if you disable it, but if it comes to it, your number one priority is keeping the Jinn out of that atrium.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Good. Any questions?”

Lieutenant Frost chimed in. “Sir. Director. Why is this our op? Not that I mind—we’re all itching to mix it up—but Station Muscat is practically next-door.”

“Muscat’s resources are occupied elsewhere. We were the closest station with the manpower for an op this size. We did get the intel on this mission at the very last minute, no fault of Singh’s, so we’re all scrambling a little. Sheppard has stayed ahead of the Task Force for so long by pulling exactly this kind of stunt, on the rare occasions he shows his face at all. It’s our job to make sure it doesn’t work this time.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Frost took the answer as the gentle reprimand it was meant to be, and Jensen once again admired Miller’s leadership acumen. There were no further questions. The agents and soldiers turned to the briefing screens and reviewed the scant intelligence they’d received, or busied themselves checking their weapons and armor, as the trio of VTOLs sped onwards.

According to the map, they were coming in over the Persian Gulf a few hours later when Miller spoke up once more: “Ears here.” He checked the screen to make sure the other two teams were looking. “A new wrinkle has arisen to keep us on our toes. Sandstorm coming up out of the southwest, straight from the desert. It’ll be barreling down our asses—we can’t afford to make mistakes. Our pilots will keep us up-to-date on the storm’s progress. The window’s tight, but all signs indicate the deal is on. As you were.”

Silence descended once more. The indicators for their birds crept towards Dubai. Around Jensen, the agents began rechecking their rifles and donning their helmets. He gave his own weapons a perfunctory once-over, then rolled his shoulders and wrists. He crossed his left arm over his chest, running his blades out at the wrist and elbow, slow, then lightning fast. The myomer and servos whined quietly, just audible over the rush of wind and engine.

MacReady leaned forward. “Not gonna go all wonky on us now, Hanzer, are ya?”

“Why? You want to put a control chip in me? Don’t worry, I’m in spec.” Jensen locked eyes with him and bent his right hand almost to his right shoulder. His blade flicked out halfway, the tip coming to rest against his temple without even dimpling the flesh. Then, slowly, he pointed the blade at MacReady, giving him a chance to flinch or hold up a hand, to show fear.

“But if I do lose it, I guarantee you’ll never see it coming.” And he snicked the blade out to its full extension against the shoulder of MacReady’s combat vest. The alloy rang quietly on the ceramic plates, but MacReady didn’t move. Every eye turned to look at them, including Miller’s. Jensen withdrew the blade.

“Agent Jensen! Am I gonna have a problem with you on this op?”

“Nossir. MacReady just had some questions about my capabilities.” He met Miller’s gaze through his shades, deferential but uncowed, letting the double meaning hang in the air.

“Good. Because you’re our only Aug, and our only infiltration specialist. I intend to make good use of you.” That last was delivered as much to MacReady as to him, Jensen thought.

Miller resumed reassembling his rifle, ramming home a magazine of 7.62 NATO. Jensen grimaced. He supposed the AIC didn’t plan on getting tied down in a firefight, and Dietrich’s heavy gunner could always share, but it bothered him that their commander might find himself running dry in a pinch. At least the sidearm he wore was a ten-mil like everyone else’s. Not that Jensen had an augmented leg to stand on: no one else on the op—hell, probably no other agent in the hemisphere—carried a forty-five, but he could jam nine-mil into the Destrier in a pinch. Still, if they’d had time to actually plan this mission, they could’ve optimized logistics a little better. Or at all.

Chikane broke in on his maundering. “Time to put away your happy thoughts, gentlemen. We’re approaching the target.” The team was one-third women; Agent Montañez—Carmen—rolled her eyes. Jensen met them and twitched his hand by his crotch in a subtle jerk-off gesture. She hid a smirk behind her gloved hand.

Fortunately, Miller missed the byplay this time. “You’re up first, Jensen. Let’s do this.”

The pilot opened the team circuit as Jensen stood. “Strike-One, Strike-Two, this is Strike Leader. Engage hush drives and descend to angels one-five.” The VTOL quieted, slowed, and dropped in the sky. Jensen rode the change in altitude effortlessly. He thought about telling Chikane he flew like someone’s grandmother, but Malik wasn’t there to laugh.

The cargo ramp descended, and the jump lights came on red. Jensen rolled his shoulders. They were low—less than two thousand feet, for sure. He’d told Miller about the Icarus, of course, but he might have played up his skydiving “experience” a little. Well, too late now. Green lights and a tone. He stepped forward and leapt into the sky.

[smegopolis]

good afternoon, happy wednesday

feeling a little stressed this week because i have a bunch of stuff going on, and some stuff that i MIGHT get going on soon:

my fall classes are starting this week and i usually like to do assignments & such ahead of schedule

i should be hearing back from the unpaid internship this week... if i do get it, then i'll just be a lot busier. but if not... i gotta keep looking for something

i have my first mentorship session with someone today. i'm a bit nervous because i'm not sure what to expect from it, and i'm wondering how much it will really even help me? (i think i have a pretty good grasp on my career moves)

i have been working on a side project for several months now, but it is only now getting to the point where i actually need do stuff for it. i need to create some wireframes with another girl on the team

i've been working on my new portfolio for the past few weeks and it takes a lot of time, especially because i'm creating new graphics for my case studies... so far i've probably spent like, i dunno, 20-30 hours on it, and i'm only halfway there

and on top of all that, i still am working part-time at the start-up as i usually am

i feel a bit overwhelmed and it probably doesn't help that i'm probably pmsing right now 😂

[khashanakalashtar]

the sheer number of times I have asked more than one question in an email and only gotten a response to one of them. I don't know why I never learn.

nicest man in the world for my manager. had to be asked to do things like eight times. was very apologetic about it every time.

people simply will not turn in their reports. or their metrics. or their reviews of other people's metrics. you have to send them multiple emails. sometimes you have to assign a person to stand over their shoulder. sometimes you have to walk them through how to do it every month. even the coworkers you like have to be reminded to turn in the monthly report. you can say the words 'turn in the weekly report by 3pm' every single wednesday in the standup meeting and you will still not get the last report until past 5 any given week.

we were in the middle of wireframes for a specific module when I quit. knew the guy assigned to take over was lazy, stupid, lying on his job application, (how you gonna tell me you have 20 years' experience with SharePoint and you can't navigate its file structure?) or (most likely) some combination thereof. walked him through exactly what was going on over screen share, had him record it so he could go back to it, got a voice note from the reliable coworker a week or two later saying that when the customer told him he fucked it up, he tried to throw me under the bus and said the state I left it in was confusing or wrong or something, and the coworker had to unmute and tell him off about it bc she was there for the whole thing. she said she'd have sent a regular text except it wouldn't convey her sheer level of indignation at the nerve.

had a couple guys manage to slide under the radar doing approximately nothing for months before they were found out and fired.

guy who always had a family emergency going on when there was something to be turned in.

proposal managing is basically just making a schedule and then hounding people who were asked to write/review stuff until they send you the stuff.

guy who was hired to be a technical writer could neither write nor proofread. had to redo his work until we convinced the higher-ups to reassign him.

you can write standard operating procedures until you're blue in the face, the thing will still not be done right.

getting an office job after years of being a self-employed adhd nightmare was so funny though. like all through college and working for myself i assembled this terrifying patchwork of lifehacks and getting-things-done techniques and none of them ever seemed to work that well or for that long. but then i'm in an office where i have a defined set of tasks that need doing with no creative input on my part and suddenly i seem like a fucking productivity wizard. coworkers marvel at how quickly i work when they ask me to do something. what else would i be doing. we are at work. you asked me to fill out a form. why would it take longer than five minutes. what do you people do all day.

[orcelito]

Planning out my outfit for my concert shit. I think I've got good pants for it, maybe got shoes for it. Gonna look for a blouse tomorrow + possibly some new shoes. Bc the maybe-shoes are those shoes I got for the suit that I HATE. They gave me such terrible blisters. And I think the pants I have would look better with some kind of heel. But if I don't find anything good I can just use those flats. And for the blouse, it's gotta be black and long sleeve and also have enough flexibility to not restrict my playing. Flexible Clothes. All the better to play a funky little tune in.

On top of that tho I've got several assignments I gotta do this week. Gotta make a wireframe prototype for my web app for web programming class. Tonight, really. Bc the official thing is due Sunday but I gotta get it reviewed by classmate(s) (and also review someone else's, too), so better to have that done sooner rather than later. There's also a lab for my C programming class due on Friday, which I need to have done before the end of lab so I can get it checked off. Gonna try to get most of it done tomorrow night, if not all of it, so that I can just go into lab and get it checked off and then LEAVE. Bc if I stay the full lab I will have less than an hour b4 I gotta be at the venue for sound check. And I really would prefer to have more time before that. Tbh the lab probably won't take TOO much work, since it's just using recursion to make a lil maze solver thing. Not too many lines of code, since the recursion does a lot of that. The tricky part is actually figuring out the logic for it properly. But I took good notes on it when my professor talked about it in class so MAYBE I didn't attend the last 2 labs and MAYBE I haven't even started the thing. But it's ok. Fuck it we ball. And ON TOP OF THAT... the assignments, the orchestra prep, etc... I also wanna clean my apartment some, probably on Friday morning, bc nonzero chance of visitors after the concert. Not for long if they do come in. But Still.... #Embarrassed. It's not as bad as it was b4 bc thankfully I did manage to do my dishes. But there's still some things I should get cleaned up.

AND THEN...!!!!!!!!!!

Well I mentioned the prototype thing. I gotta review someone else's prototype, and I also need to update my own prototype depending on what people say about mine. Tbh I'm kinda planning on doing a lower-effort version to start with (instead of trying to make it perfect from the start) so that it'll hopefully be easier to adjust the prototype to whatever the advice is & make it seem like an actual improvement. There's also a presentation over this thing, which thankfully I'm presenting on... Wednesday, I think? But I gotta have the slides submitted I Think Sunday night (when the prototype itself is due). So I gotta prep the presentation alongside prepping the prototype. AND I have a lab for this same class due on Sunday too, so I'm a busy bee!!

And ON TOP OF ALL THAT, I have a midterm exam in-class on Wednesday for my C programming class (same day as the web programming presentation, ugh 🙄), a presentation for my quality engineering in IT class on Thursday (over ISO 9001 quality standard), AND a paper for that presentation's content due on..Friday, I think? It's a group presentation/paper, same group I worked with last time, which Thankfully they can pull their own weight. It's just more to do lol.

God. I'm being worked to the bone, actually. Feels like everything is happening all at once. But then I remember that it's midterms time and I have spring break the week after next. And I'm like. OK, that makes sense.

Just gotta survive the next week and a half... lol...

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary483

1/22-23/24

wednesday - thursday

another wordless day.

absolutely nothing from me... verbally at least, outside of saying "ouch" a couple times trying to put paper bags into another paper bag, because i have one of those cuts on the top of my pointer finger. really hurt!! my head hurts now, and so does my neck, so i'm sort of a ball of pain right now, all in my head, sometimes the world conspires to give you an illness of minor inconvenience that makes it seem as if dying would be best. i really do feel like i'm dying. i guess it's because i insist on keeping my workout routine regular all through the illnesses that befall me but i need need need to!! or i believe i need to and if i don't i get scared, really afraid. i haven't missed a day in sooooooooooooo long. i'm talking... must be over 10 months of my 5 days a week consistency?? idk perfectly. i should have a shirt that says that, i don't know perfectly. we all don't know perfectly. this silly arrangement of words moves me. i must really be stupid.

today's dream:

aunt asked me for help, had a new job, something to do with questionnaires online. i did it for her and the results were turned through in this other realm, everything looked like vib ribbon, a creature with a hand for a head looked over the results/responses, was joyous and the black room with white wireframe, a purplish trail radiating as the camera moved and a jostling as intensity grew, an odd shader, the creature gave her a 94% and the text appeared by a digital piece of paper it held, and then we knew we had done well. she received a promotion. she didn't know what to do, needed my help more but all i could say was fake it and they won't notice, she was like an exec now. her room was different from how i remember it, smaller, more teenaged feeling, posters, a vanity cluttered and with a kind of cd player my stepsisters had in 2004, silver with pink accents, shiny beads ornament and accent everything, older things fitting an older woman underneath, doilies, the vanity an oak, sturdy, at times though it appeared to be painted white, other times not, her bed was metal but painted white, intricacy the same color as the walls adorned with posters of boys, old ottomans, floral patterns, youth at war with these matured objects collected over years, the act of collecting over years under attack from these new things. a crt on a table to watch movies always, how she had one in the kitchen in their old place. we ended up on vacation.

we were in boston supposedly, wandering with my gf, wait, there was a long period of walking through vegas, anonymous creaking neighborhoods, not creaking because of being so old, but disused and poor, sad places subject to a quickened rotting because of fear and and the inability for anyone to care for themselves because the world has abandoned them, each dissolved into another, houses painted white and yellowed overgrown grass, a reeking of piss, rocks into the sidewalk and destroyed waist high brick walls, their little patterns and ornaments cracked and crumbling, sidewalks with massive cracks through them, roots of trees now dead but still beneath the feet, disrupting the flatness of the concrete, into little pyramids, it was a tunnel with the appearance of an open sky. it led me to vacation. my gf and i emerged from a tunnel into boston, as if from a subway. we wandered in boston in nicer neighborhoods, no longer uneven pavements, roads without pot-holes or dust, all two story or three story buildings, all older than anywhere i've ever lived and all painted blue or green. we were by the sea, and the buildings were the sort that should have been clustered closely together, but they were spaced out too far, closer to the anatomy of suburbs in the west of the united states, yards were half extant, it was like housing in simcity. we passed the 'best highschool in boston,' its colors were yellow and blue and it looked just like a school in vegas, prison slats for windows and slate and rough desert colored bricks, the parking lot resembled the elementary school by where i used to live. chainlink fences were in a scattered order, all upright in odd places and at odd angles. we saw the shimmering of the sea from up there. the beach was before us but we had to travel through parking complex to go down some stairs and the inside was a dingy and disused or burnt out airport feeling place. it felt like it would have been revolutionary architecture in the year 2000, now it was nothing. no glass windows, only slits throughwhich light and sea air came. many people here. everyone but me changed. there was an older man we were supposedly related to, he had the quality of a grasshopper, long and thin and a rectangular head bursting near its peak. cheeks had lines. he saw an area for hindu practitioners, he went over and put the red paint on his forehead even though we urged him to not, but he was impossible to convince. an odd joke from the angular thin man, countenance of an ancient uncle, always from elsewhere and native to nothing, a kind of family that is always long lost. he had a wife, they seemed to love each other. my aunt was there, my gf, and our friend from the dream the other day, the one with the bf. she made sure my gf got changed 'right.'

we went through red doors and it was night and below us was only a shopping plaza flooded, some stairs to the right, the plaza was the kind you see in vegas, a stripmall, this one resembled this one we have been to with a korean restaurant we really like in it, called soyo. to our left there was a sign with red letters, a sensation of kmart, haunted by dead retail. in the water, in the crevice filled parking lot, emerging from impossible depths, long towers came up, signage of all languages came off, i almost fell into a hole trying to see better, everyone traveled down the stares but i stayed to try and see better what all this was. there was a glow from the depths, pool lights at night, and the surface of the water, an insolid thing. at the stairs the beach appeared normal, despite the pool here, a light trickle down the steps maybe. a kid walked up to me, and sat next to me, we were silent a while. i asked:

what's up.

minutes later he said:

the other day i made some words rhyme. i could be a poet.

i said:

yes! you could write one word, attach and image, and have a poem.

he smiled, he was eager about something, i can't recall what he said but he seemed to affirm his dreaming, i said:

please try.

i started trying to get good photos of the buildings, he followed a little while and left on his own journey. he was mostly sharp edges. i hoped he would remember my encouragement.

my gf sent me something on discord, a website where people chatted and shared images of themselves, all sexual, it was some japanese site, there was a gif posted, 2 women on bikes in gothic lolita outfits, it was spring and the trees were very green and the camera was swallowed by the sun in places, a terribly white sky, a heavenly radiation behind the women and through the trees (interlaced footage, very digital and cheap feeling, a pretty grain in it by that cheapness though), when their skirts raised enough, briefly you saw they were wearing chastity cages. i found it funny she sent this, i asked why, not out of shock, i wanted to understand the reason was all.

the beach below had white sand, resembled ash lake from dark souls, the sky was dark though. there was a ridge of volcanic rock, a cliff, the place seemed ancient, a feeling that beneath us were artifacts, ancient cultures, cave paintings, an unearthly fear of the earthly, everyone waved at me to come, i went, i never got there.

odd dream. very odd dreams lately.

started thinking about girls rituals tonight because i got on this thing, thinking about shitty music from the mid 2010s (i am not meaning to implicate girls rituals in this it's a busy thought), how awful it was to be in highschool surrounded by stuff like twentyonepilots and like, this emerging line of discourse that people understood what you might be going through and yeah the emotions of a teenager aren't really caused by complex things, i guess mine might have been since i'm clearly not normal and blah blah blah, the endpoint though is that discourse of understanding why you're so sad, how depression works etc, it felt so empty, it felt mean and cruel, it was like, you're understood, now that we're being nice and carving out a spot for you to perform what it is you are, to imprint your misery with the character of this music these cultural products (it's kind of a funny story comes to mind), you're now being cared for and have no reason to be impotently mad. a lot of the stuff i got into at the time felt like the opposite, that there was something irreducible about these things, or that they were so flimsy that this violently sentimental line of talking about it was cruel because it wouldn't leave you with the fact they might flit away into pyrrhic laughter at oneself. even now this self serious nature feels present, but not being a teen anymore i really have no clue if there is that experience among peers where you are kind of transformed into an image of a kind of person in a movie or whatever. i mean teens do that to themselves, for themselves, on purpose, i think i did though i can't say for certain what it was i was ever trying to be, i think i only got that in the past... 5 years? or i realized more clearly. this was always there but it seemed so... i was afraid of it. anyhow this gets off track of the thought but the thought was held together with tape and stick and etc. everything is flotsam.

here's a final thing, i got super moved by this image from a runway show from enfants riches deprimes... i found out about them today... i am in love love love... my god... i love love love these clothes but look at this person:

the hammer, the expression, a face of someone who feels wronged, an impotent thing... it's so beautiful and moving to me to see such a feeling externalized, the face of tearing yourself to shreds trying to tear the world to shreds. so it made me write... very positive feelings about that. the makeup to make them look beaten up too... wow... the hammer, the hammer especially, trying to cling to a weapon, the gloves, trying to be someone about to do something bad, only capable of self destruction. arresting...

their stuff is really cool to me i think i'm going to scrape more of their site tomorrow. lots of good looks... may talk about it more,

as it stands though i am tired. i'm not even sure if i'm sick or if i am just deeply unlucky about allergies and all my staying in has made a mess of me. whatever.

my gf had her first class today, teaching, or, of this semester, she taught 2 times before now. but she said it went well...congratulations for her... have i ever done that here? i should wish her well in these more, a kind of ritual... is that silly? i am silly generally, oh well, i will be silly. little prayers for her continued ascent into being someone great.

for now though i should sleep,

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hannahsheppardsblog]

weekly plan and goals

Following this workshop with EPM we have made a plan on how to progress through the next week so we can manage our time successfully and reach the deadline. 

weekend: independent ideation/research (moodboard/name/wireframe)

monday: build wireframe and tutorial with EPM

tuesday: Design app appearance

wednesday: finalise the app and design the presentation

[lucaaaamakesart]

Group Progress

After taking part in group exercises, we decided some good next steps would be to go away and do independent brainstorming for app pages, mood boards, names, features etc. We also went away and did independent researching tasks to advance out knowledge of existing apps. We did these independently due to differences in schedules over the weekend. The next steps will be to come together on Monday to refine our ideas and start building a wireframe, supported with help from EPM tutorials. 

Plan

Friday-Sunday: Independent research & Ideation

Monday: Build Wireframe & Tutorials (Group Task)

Tuesday: Design app (Group Task)

Wednesday: Build presentation (Group Task)

Thursday: Pitch Presentation with EPM

[molegato]

It's Wednesday, so it's #WireframeWednesday!

I love seeing the wireframes in any lowpoly model, if you're a 3d artist consider showing yours too!

[probablybadrpgideas]

Weird! Dice! Wednesday!

Starting out with Paper's new bone dice. Not necassarily that weird, but I think they're neat

@approximately20eggs "oh are we submitting weird dice? here's a d20 I made in solidworks"

@thridless: "These are my Dungeon D6s! You roll them, then position them for an instant dungeon. Figured these might be weird enough for Weird Dice Wednesday!"

@bluewizardjoe: "

For Weird Dice Wednesday!

Top row left to right: Spell book D2, D3, D14, D16, D24, D30

Bottom row: Yes/No/Maybe, Rock/Paper/Scissors, Body parts D12, The most disgusting D4 I've ever seen, D7, and a D5.

Enjoy!"

@theagentmoo: "I know you’ve gotten a bunch of weird/bad dice, but I felt like sharing a set of cool dice I made myself that I kinda did by accident? (I was actually trying to figure out a means of doing a wireframe effect while I didn’t have any wires to do it for real)

I call it “Cracked Ice” (still need to color the numbers)

"What I did was cut some plastic wrap into tiny squares, twisted them up, shoved them in the dice molds randomly, then filled with resin. No dyes or anything."

[melancholic-pigeon]

WIP Wednesday #1

What if he doesn't want to see me?

Palms sweaty—

If he didn't want to see you, he wouldn't have told Annabeth he wanted to see you, dummy. 

—pulse pounding in her ears, flushed hot—

What does he remember? How much did he—

—Thalia's shaking so hard she's half expecting to start levitating. Her heart is in her mouth, and she can't stop pacing. There's a suncatcher in one of the breezy windows, and it casts rainbows on the walls. 

The rest of Annabeth's family is out at a late matinee, her parents moved enough by Thalia's sob story to accommodate her. The silence is crushing. For a second, even as much as she hates crying in front of people— because she will cry; she's barely holding back now— and as strongly as she dislikes them, she wishes they'd stayed, just so she'd have a distraction. 

Class gets out at four. At ten past, she got the text. J said yes, on our way. :) Accounting for subway traffic, they should be here any minute. Every second of the hour has felt like a millennium. 

What if he changes his mind? 

Then the lock clicks and there's a voice she knows—

"—off, please, my stepmom's a little anal about the carpet—" 

—and another she knows even better, somehow, despite the totally different octave—

"—worry, so's mine—"

—and there he is. 

Her baby brother, standing anxiously by the doorway in wireframes and a pair of navy-blue argyle socks. 

He's still towheaded and pink-cheeked, but now his limbs are gangly and his forearms are tanned and he's looking down from at least seven inches above her, if not more, just like Annabeth said—

"Jason—"

—and he breaks into a beaming smile and reaches for her, the same way he always did when he was little, his sky-blue eyes bright—

And she's moving faster than she's ever moved in her life, nothing in her head but the relief that he's happy and healthy and strong—

—and as she throws her arms around his neck, he catches her by the waist and lifts her off the ground. 

She can't feel a single one of his ribs, and he holds her up like he doesn't even have to consider exerting any effort to do so, and before she knows it she's collapsing into breathless sobs. 

He's not just healthy and strong, he's thriving. 

- back to my arms, solely because I was working on it most recently. Their ages are twenty and almost fourteen.

[kenziekenza]

Week 4 — By putting boundaries you’ll be able to create

Working on an application from scratch on my own, sometimes thinking and blank page syndrome then being on a crisis Wednesday. Having interviews: interviewing persons is a really helpful because it is insightful, and it’s allows me surrounded pain points. A way to go forward. Then comes the drawing part, as I remember during the Apple UI elements talks Johnathan Cho said “drawing something you already know”. With the Crazy 8′s method it’s getting so easier, because in one minute you have a to sketch a reel quick idea. This is your first paper M.V.P. At some point of the design process I decided to give some art direction to my project, I was so stuck didn’t know how to keep going. So the graphic design cupid hit me. And made me, diverging....

But I didn’t stop at this time. I pushed myself forward (also I was running out of time) and I focused doing hi-fi wireframes. Working on colours and typefaces. When the last day rang the bell I presented my project to I didn’t felt a lot of stress as usual

[mallensvad-gd-blog]

Response .03

Week 5:

I would like to open this post with the traumatic experience that I had to face while attending the Pictoplasma Virtual Conference a couple of weeks ago. This piece, though a deep commentary on human interaction with animals, was equally as thought-provoking as it was terrifying. 

Note: This work is not mine. There was no author listed on the video otherwise I would list their information beneath.

Anyways, with that charming piece of work resonating through the inner folds of your brain, with Week 5 came continued work of Project 2 Part 1. We were to create site maps of the current site, revise the site map to meet a better user experience and then create the wire frame. Columbia Classical Ballet’s website needed quite a bit of revising and information chunking. So with my work cut out, I dug through the site figuring out what needed to go where. Those site maps are below.

Original Site Map:

My Revised Site Map:

And finally from this revised site map came my wireframe, which I won’t include here, as much of that was adjusted by the final product. Overall, Week 5 was a success as I had a clear vision of where I was going with this redesign.

Week 6:

Week 6 brought quite a few head scratches for me. Having finished Part 1 of Project 2, we were now on Part 2, actually redesigning the site. A maelstrom of question marks starting swirling around my head as there was so much to be done to the already existing site. It needed a new logo, a new overall aesthetic, some semblance of intriguing interactions and much more. With only two weeks to make it happen, I thought my ambitions were going to be way out of reach. But rather than buckle under pressure, I rose to the occasion and began work.

 I knew the logo was the first place to start, as that would set the tone for the rest of the visual elements. With what I had to work with, the site was in dire need of something fresh and new, while still feeling elegant and sophisticated. After researching some logos I liked and other thriving ballet companies, I began mark making. 

Though rough, these quick sketches gave me an idea of what I wanted to go for in style and feel. After this, I moved to procreate. I needed the mark to feel smooth and fluid, something only the hand on a Wacom or tablet could achieve. Luckily I was visiting home and my cousins have procreate on their IPad. I grabbed the tablet and made some of the marks I liked for this project digital. 

One in particular, stuck out to me in terms of balance, style and feeling, so I ran with it. After cleaning it up a bit, I went in to illustrator to set some type with the mark.

Finally, after an open studio session with the class, I was advised to rethink how much of the chin was actually necessary to get the point across. I had agreed, as I had apprehensions with how the chin feels a bit bulky and long. After some simple edits, I finally arrived at the final logo for this project. Quite the journey but I am happy with how it turned out.

Week 7:

This week was met with a little bit of frantic energy. I had spent all this time on making a logo that I liked, that I lost sight of how much time I had left. I barely had a home page and the start of an ‘About us’ section and the project was due on Wednesday. I was actively searching for a bright red panic button at this point...so much to do. Luckily we had a class zoom where we were able to talk amongst our classmates to get some feedback on what we had. I was paired with Gracey Dorn and Jeremy Hutchins and their feedback helped keep my head straight. That evening I began work and only stopped to go to my part-time job, eat or sleep. The work was met with many ups and downs, learning moments and ‘Aha’s. At one point, I got stuck and decided to completely overhaul one section. To my relief, it turned out way better.

Wednesday we had a final open studio session in which I was able to show the professor my work thus far, get some suggestions and even some career advice. Thank you Professor Khalili for your guidance and time with this. Wednesday afternoon and evening, I spent all my time perfecting the website, adding animation and some other bells and whistles. The final product is something that I am incredibly proud of. It is a true representation of my growth thus far in the program only having learned about it 7 weeks ago. 

Here is a mockup video of the redesigned website.  

With Project 2 coming to a close, the rosy hues found within my website are resonating within my emotions. Designing for the web is something that I have desired to be able to do and showcase as a designer. With this project, I am feeling myself grow into those shoes and wiggle my toes a little bit. Next is to start walking, a mundane process of continuity that takes you to places far and beyond.

To Movement.

-MA