#this one looks crappier intentionally

[toffeebrews]

so i made a real one

error by @/loverofpiggies ink by @/coymet

[panlight]

I don’t actually think Bella wanting nice things but also not wanting gifts is a contradiction from the writer’s standpoint but as a testiment to the fact that she was a neglected child. Not that she would ever acknowledge that’s what she is but her childhood clearly socialized her to be self- reliant and not to rely on others. Edward is in some sense good for her in that regard as she lets go of this a bit but not really.It is infortunate that to the nature of Twilight ( I believe Twilight is a tragedy) she will never process this and transform that self belief as she is a frozen 19 yo mom who is in denial and thinks everything is great. My mom had a very similar childhood ( well worse because she outright experienced abuse) and let me tell you that shit will effect you as a person and the choices you make and the things you believe. Sorry if Im rambling but I just find the topic so interesting

I love reading all these headcanons about Bella's mental state and how her childhood would affect her. People make such compelling metas about this, really delve into the psychology of trauma and neglect and parentification and it's all so sad and interesting.

But I also think that SM did not intend like, any of this. I remember the story SM told about how originally the reason Bella moved in with Charlie was that Phil was her high school principal and it was just too weird to live with him. But early editors thought there was implied sexual abuse there (that Phil made her uncomfortable because he abused her vs just 'omg that's the Principal, weird!') and SM was so horrified that anyone would read that darker implication in her sparkly romance that she changed it to the weirdness of the whole Phil's minor league baseball player and Renee wants to travel with him thing.

I don't think SM wrote Renee as intentionally awful--at least not originally. I think her characterization of Renee got more negative as she has told and retold this story over the last 15 years, possibly influenced by how other people have interpreted her (we know that at one point, SM did read fanfic, because she got frustrated with how people were writing Edward and that's why we have Midnight Sun). But originally? I felt like it was less about "look at what a shitty mom Renee is!" and more a way to say "look at how MATURE Bella is, it totally makes sense for her to get with an 100-year-old teenager!" Renee and Charlie were both supposed to be kind of throw away parents so Bella could have this vampiric adventure with minimal parental influence. But I think--just like the Bella/Jacob relationship--Bella and Charlie's relationship got away from her a bit and developed more than she intended it to, so that just leaves Renee having to be portrayed progressively crappier and crappier. I mean in the first book she's telling Bella not to move out and instantly rushes to the hospital when Bella's hurt and I honestly took the "at least Phil will make sure the bills are paid" as more lighthearted teasing than "Mom is incompetent.' She also comes to Forks in New Moon. But then in Eclipse she's blowing off Bella's graduation because of Phil's broken leg; Breaking Dawn only really deals with Charlie post-wedding; in Life and Death Beau and Charlie speak about her like a baby they have to take care of; and in Midnight Sun we find out she's developed into a narcissist because of a subtle psychic ability that makes everyone sense her mental voice and feel compelled to help her.

Which is all to say that if SM managed to pull off a realistic portrayal of a girl who had to raise herself and is thus uncomfortable with help/gifts from anyone . . . I think it was mostly accidental.

Fandom, as usual, does it better.

And I hope your mom is doing well!

[percywinchester27]

La Petite Mort

Word count: 2.1K

Pairing: Dean X Reader AU

Warnings: None, just fluff, humour and implied sex ;)

Series Summary: The reader has just shifted to a new flat and boy, someone on the floor has a really banging sex life! The passionate moans have been keeping her up for several nights in row and enough is enough! Reader has her suspicions, but is it really the green-eyed hottie from room no. 307?  

A/N: It’s a neighbours!AU. I’m finally writing one. So excited to share it with you guys. Hope y’all like it! <3

Beta: The best babe, @deanssweetheart23​​​​​

Everything was fine till the banging started. Pun very much intended.

The shift had been smooth, the job was going great and life was finally on track. You had slid under the covers with the most satisfied smile in years only to be woken up to a lady very, very, very happy with her life.

Oh yeah… oh yeah… ahhh right there… oh fuck yeah…

You sat up right in your bed, eyes wide, face hot.

Third night in a row. Third fucking night. Literally.

What in the good heavens? The landlady might have mentioned this while renting out the flat!

Shoving the pillow over your ears, you fell back onto the mattress, closing your eyes shut very tightly. Eventually sleep overtook you and you lapsed into lousy dreams of trying to catch the taxi which kept evading you. Not a metaphor for your sex life at all. Nope.

The disturbed sleep didn’t help your mood the following day. Everyone at the office thought of you as a happy-go lucky person. Lately, they were seeing this whole new dark side of you. Sleep was essential to your functioning. 

In the evening, on your way back, you stopped by the coffee shop downstairs to pick up a brownie. It was a little place; busy yet quaint. The barista, Charlie, made two hearts in your coffee instead of one. That put the biggest smile on your face. 

At least, the day was ending on a high note.

Your newly rented flat was on the third floor of a very complicated building. One staircase did not directly lead into another. An entire hallway had to be crossed to get to it. The design probably broke a hundred different by laws and someone was definitely paid off in the city civil office to get a construction permit. You did not want to imagine how the people would fare in case of a fire emergency. Learning the escape plan was like memorising the map of a treasure hunt. You escape, you win. You lose… whoops! Better luck in next life. But the rent was cheap and you were already living all the clichés of a struggling writer- one incomplete book, a job at a publishing house and addiction to coffee. So, yes, you would brave fire when it came to being able to afford a living.

Struggling with the brownie package and the coffee in your hand you jammed the key into the door. It didn’t go in. 

What the hell?

You tried again, and once more the key got jammed. On a closer look, you realised that the lock didn’t resemble yours at all. Stepping back, you peered at the door. 307. Not 306- which was yours.

The floor design was insane and instead of the flats being lined up next to each other, they were all fronting one another in a haphazard fashion. Shaking your head, you took a step back and jammed the key into the lock of your own flat.

Jesus! You’re losing it, Y/N.

Shirking off the mild irritation, you cooked yourself a hot cup of instant noodles, put on your favourite TV show and slinked into your couch. Tonight’s episode was going to reveal who the murderer was and you had been dying for the suspense to finally end. 

Just when the protagonist was about to point a gun at the killer in the shadows…

Oh my God... you’re incredible… aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh…

You completely abandoned the TV and jumped up from the sofa. The fire hazard might still be worth it, but the thin walls so weren’t.

On tiptoes, you made your way to the east side wall, putting your ear against it. The noise wasn’t coming from upstairs. That was the only sure thing. But it was impossible to pinpoint the direction. The moans were reverberating through the walls. So loudly that there was no escaping it. Not in the bedroom, the kitchen or the living room sofa. 

Of all of them, the east wall seemed like the culprit. 

Right there… yeah…

307. Whoever it was in that room needed to calm the FUCK down. You grabbed your blanket and dragged it to the end of the living room, fuming. What ticked you off was how much this was ticking you off.

It’s sleep you told yourself. The lack of sleep was the only thing making you mad. The sex noises couldn’t be it. Because there were other noises- a dog barked somewhere occasionally, one of the rooms had a very loud stereo and someone was too much into baking- the beater was ceaseless. No, it had to be the timing and your wrecked sleep schedule.

Just like the nights before, you covered your ears and started reciting the story of the manuscript you had been reading at work. Eventually, sleep overtook you again.

The next morning you woke up in a crappier mood. If that was even possible.

Breathing down on anything and everything, you locked the door on your way out for work. Turning into the corridor, you ran into a wall of solid flesh. 

In your groggy, sleep deprived state, the first thing you noticed was the way he smelled- leather and whiskey and something headier than that. It was divine. Next, you looked up into those eyes- stunning green, like sparkling water running over jade.

“Easy there, sweetheart!” The guy smirked. 

You straightened yourself and took a step back. In front of you stood the most handsome guy you had ever seen. He was tall, with dirty blond hair, almost brown, and those stunning eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You had one of those dumb faces that gave away every damn thought crossing through your brain, so obviously you tried your best not to meet his gaze. Which was a shame really. That face demanded to be ogled at. Let alone the body that followed.

“No, no… I didn’t mind at all.” 

You saw him reach out to the door of 307.

“You’re the one who lives there?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. You want a tour?”

Uhgg the best looking guy and he has to be such a douche!

Slipping past him, you stomped off towards the stairs. This too-good-looking-for-the-world asshat had been ruining your nights and in turn your life. 

You knew it was wrong to be mad at him without, at least, talking about the issue first. A polite conversation explaining your situation wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world now, would it? But how does one start a conversation pertaining to that? After all, he wasn’t exactly the one making the noise. What would you say?

So, hey would you mind pleasuring your girlfriend a little less? 

Or better. Ever heard of a ball gag?

Mere thought of it made you shudder.

The work day was spent trying to shove your neighbour's stupidly handsome face out of your mind. It didn’t help that your mother kept calling, repeatedly. You knew what she had to say. How you should have taken that bigger job at Royal’s publishing. How the writing career might never take off. How you really should get a boyfriend now, or you’ll be the only unmarried cousin in the family.

Usually you could entertain your mother with well-timed hmms and ahhs. Today wasn’t that day.

Bone-tired and absentminded, you jammed the key in the keyhole in the evening, only for it to get stuck again. You looked up at the door. 307.

Well, shit!

Putting both your hands into it, you yanked the key with all your might, just as the door opened. There he stood, with his crooked smirk, dimples digging in, wearing nothing but a thin cotton t-shirt and sweatpants that hung all too low on those hips.

“You don’t need to break into my house. I already offered a tour.” Of course, god gave him an irresistible voice. Cause at this point, why not?

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “I keep getting the wrong door. This one’s mine.”

“Oh, so you’re the one in 306!” You could feel his smirk more than see it. “Looks like you’re having a good ol’ time in there.”

“Excuse me?”

The guy raised scratched the back of his neck, face apologetic. “You might… ya know… just keep the voice down in there?”

The audacity of this guy!

“Rich of you to ask anyone to keep it down!” You hissed. “Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to keep it low?” 

With that, you shut your door in his surprised face. The worst part was, after bumping into him in the morning, your mind was producing distinct images of him in the bed, doing things to a woman. You had tried your best not to let them make a home in your head. But like a stickly tenant, they refused to evacuate. No wonder it was hard to look him in those brilliant, brilliant green eyes. The guy was hot! There was no denying that. You weren’t even willing to accept to yourself just how much time you had put into imagining him naked.

If anything, the denial mixed with your pre-existing irritation and sleep deprivation had you ready tonight. 

So the moment the enamoured voice started begging, you hopped out of your chair. You had every intention of yelling yourself hoarse at the delectable resident next door, but the moment you stepped into the corridor, you came face to face with the very man. 

He was- thankfully, completely clothed- looking a bit harassed, himself.

aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh… right there...

Your head whipped up to the suspected direction of the voice, and back at him. “Wait, you aren’t… it’s not...?”

His face mirrored your expression of surprise and then he burst out laughing. “Looks like we’ve both been played.”

“Not intentionally,” you said, peering at the adjacent doors, mostly to not look at him. “Where do you think it’s coming from?”

He shot a glance at the door opposite to his. “If it’s not you, my best guess is that guy over there. I mean, if you ask me, Nick over there doesn’t look the type to make a woman that happy… but what do I know?”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions about people,” you said, taking a tentative step towards the said door.

Mr. hot guy smartpants laughed. “Oh, trust me. He’s the douchiest douche you’ll ever meet. Guy like that? Definitely selfish in bed.”

You frowned at him.

“He asks women in the street to smile more,” hot guy explained.

“Uhhgg… yeah you’re right. It’s definitely not him.”

Hot guy pointed his fingers at the rest of the doors. “That one’s rented by three guys. I don’t think it’s them. Mrs. Hendrickson over there works night shifts. I have no clue who lives in there,” he pointed to the last door, directly in front of you.

Goodness you’re amazing...

“Yes, lady, we already know!” He called out.

You couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.

His eyes softened. “Dean Winchester,” he said, offering his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, taking his. He had a firm grip. A very funny sensation gripped your stomach. Like a flutter. Nervousness? 

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N.” He smirked. “I sure wish the circumstances were better.”

You bit your lip. “Listen, I’m sorry for the comment about your girlfriend. I was just mad about, you know... “

“Don’t worry about it. My non-existent girlfriend is very cool. She took no offense.”

You snorted.

“I was dead serious about the house tour,” He winked. “I can promise great coffee.”

“Sure, sometime soon.”

He shot a look at the door with the unknown occupants again. “I hate to leave this here, but I think we should get whatever kind of shuteye we can while they’re quiet over there, huh?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hurried back to your flat. “Night, Dean.”

He gave you his crooked grin again, just a hint of mischief. “Night, Y/N.”

You knew it wasn’t him now, and he was right about making the most of the quiet and fucking off to sleep, and yet, each time you closed your eyes, your mind decided to replay your imaginations for you. With a start, you sat up in your bed, a thought occurring to you like a hit on the head- If you had been thinking about him that way? Had he been imagining you as well?

Blood rushed to your face at the very idea. Though a tiny part of you begged for the answer- would it be such a bad thing if he had?

*********************

A/N 2: So? So? SO??? What do you think?

I value each and every reblog more than I can tell you! Thank you! Feedback is love and life!

This series will have a total of 5 or 6 parts max.

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La Petite Mort Taglist:

@deanssweetheart23   @cosicas-cuquis​   @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​   @mlovesstories​   @feelmyroarrrr​   @thefridgeismybestie​   @gabavaldman​   @akshi8278​   @michellethetvaddict  @fandomoverdose666​   @badlittlehabit99​   @lastcallatrockysbar​   @mrswhozeewhatsis​   @thestralsaregood​   @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou​   @notan-applepielife​   @stoneyggirl​   @tricksterdean​   @sea040561​   @i-is-for-inspiring​   @torn-and-frayed​   @flamencodiva​   @sunflowers-n-rocknroll​   @binxy   @sdavid09​   @sherala007​   @ohgodwhybloggg​   @mogaruke​   @seekingkairos​   @tootsie562   @pansexualgrapes​   @soitiswritten05  @shesnotmaria​   @miss-nerd95​   @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​   @atc74​   @onethirstyunicorn​   @thoughts-and-funnies​   @deandreamernp​   @deanwinchesterinthedarktower​   @outofnowhere82​   @traceyaudette​

[nightrocket]

Okay, I got a little too overexcited about getting Clip Studio Paint Pro, and last time just posted trash. Nobody wants to see that kind of CSPP practice, so instead I’ll give you something I’ve had a lot of fun INTENTIONALLY making look as bad as I feel about my art lately! lmao

The program’s got a lot of cool brushes, and I’ve thought that making concepts and drafts with the crappier looking brushes really helps with that “unfinished” look. SO! Have the latest concept of my own attempt at one of those gemsona things (Steven Universe gem OCs), with my own ‘sona, Rhodolite Garnet! Figured it’d be better to post something cool to show off some practice with my new program instead.

Of course I’ve always felt really close to my birthstone, but trying to compete with the show’s canon Garnet always felt betraying to my favorite character on the show (yes, that gets added to the list of fandoms I’m in, too), so until recently I wasn’t very enthused with a character I would identify with. The new mobile game for the series introduced new Garnet characters, though, so I felt a little more inspired to try again once more.

[eeriestatic]

Good thing he did ask. Providing Niklaus didn't have the patience for the like at times, but neither did it serve to make him blame her either. There was people who done it intentionally and those unintentionally. So as far as he knew when listening to Alto speak, it made his brow raise, considerably understanding though even if such things could end as different results. Of course his doubts though with small undertones, but he wasn't about to let himself butt heads with appearances over attire and how they were all factioned off almost. Not this time at least. "So carefree." His attention averted to the assumed door, or passing ones at least. Not that he was trying to lambast her, that's just how it seemed to him if it was so unconscious. "Doesn't sound like she realizes how much of a more crappier spot that puts her then, all until it slaps her over the head. Must be equally difficult to catch oneself if it is unconsciously done though." However, contrast to latter - at least his tone wasn't so harsh. Easy as it was to give someone alike that a break, he knew all speech patterns had their differences. Wether disconcerting or to the point. "I need not lose my temper though..." He murmured, but yet he knew better since it was his emotional hammer to set off the worse.

Though the twins did take it to pause, or Markus did at least since he was behind them. Though his peripheral lost Shiro equally, his bangs weren't doing him favours this time and watching Niklaus walk off ahead a bit. All before glancing down at Alto that made him assume that he was curious if Markus was still present. "Hello." He dropped, his usual puppy enthusiasm popped in again, chuckling away to himself now once they started to move the rest of the way to the door. Though Niklaus was waiting a few feet away, he was easy to correct his placement and meet by the door now with the two. Shiro was safe by the sounds and seems of it thanks to the agents frame and his poor hair maintenance.

Of course though it made Niklaus shoot him a weird look. Knowing the small details of her being in weird places or a wanderer in the facility at times, it was strange for a second that he had her locked in there until he explained. "Probably won't help for how big we are. But... Are you telling me that she isn't aware that we were coming then? Since you put it like that." He questioned.

The walls made her hearing struggle, no matter how point it was. These ones weren't paper thin. But once they got closer to the door, Josiah was able to hear them - clear. Yet muffled by the slights. Occupying his chair anyways, seeing she had nowhere to go other than beneath the desk or the floor. But she was already in low-key panic mode since she could hear the twins. Niklaus more than Markus though - she'd already have psyched out long before they came back and tried getting out, but all was futile. Left sitting there staring at her lap clasped hands, thinking one couldn't look any paler, almost as if all what blood she had was drained away. Waiting to hear the sound of the door open was her only cue.

eeriestatic​:

Markus might’ve not been familiar with too much body language - but for someone like Niklaus who taken to dealing with inmates and or escort if not other duty? He was obligated to understand and help him predict certain, behavioural outcomes. Though he was still more loose overall, Niklaus wasn’t insensitive to the fact he was short sticking someone else’s partner. Because the twins wouldn’t appreciate someone doing that to Shiro either - but in turn to Alto’s words, Niklaus vaguely shifted his head in a slight turn away and furrow of brows. It could’ve easily blown him out of the water and that Alto was right, despite his nature, it wasn’t only his fear. But fear for Markus, considering he knew their contrast instabilities of emotion can cause issues - if he wasn’t here, Niklaus might’ve been a lot more cooperative and less tense. It wasn’t like he could guess what the issue was either though. Left on an assuming note, neither could he keep Markus out of the loop.

However, instead of cold shouldering Alto with what might’ve accidentally seemed like disinterest, his expression relaxed a bit more. Considering his latter words, he took it upon himself to at least try understanding these refined details before getting to their destination that lied ahead of them now. Safe to assume none of the two were going to try dipping out this late now from the door distance comparison. “What do you mean by that? Is there something concerning in the words she spoken you?” It might’ve been missing point context, but an effort nevertheless.

Though Markus was following the persistently moving two, he had no words to spare besides a few worried glances. Usually he left Niklaus to deal with these types of things - mostly because Niklaus always sent him off. But this time? He was apart of it, which was ultimately out of place for this twin. Hoping as much as he didn’t need to talk or add onto their conversation, Markus was already on par to the idea even if Niklaus was tense like thin ice under pressure. It made his head turn to overlook Alto and plant on Niklaus - although the angle of head made his peripheral more noting.

      The question elicited a chuckle out of him. Nothing disrespectful. By any means, he found it amusing and a smooth segway into a subject he wanted to press on anyway.

      ❝She always says the wrong things at the wrong time. Her self-awareness is inexistent when it matters most. It could be because she is scared of becoming vulnerable on the spot and unconsciously distances herself from the words she spews out of her mouth, but that only causes more trouble for her.❞, he explained, rolling the leg of his glasses between his fingertips. ❝I will be the first to admit that she drives me nuts sometimes with her vague speech, but I know better than to lose my temper. She’s a good girl❞, he confessed. 

      Right afterwards though, he paused. Thinking he’d heard something other than their collective footsteps ringing throughout the hallway, he turned to peek over his shoulder through the corner of his eye. Luckily for Shiro, all Alto could see was Markus’ broad frame blocking the way. Without commenting on it as to not put their nerves on edge any further, he shrugged and averted his gaze. Coming up was his office’s door, anyway.

      ❝There’s not a lot of room, but you will excuse me.❞, he smiled courteously as he produced the keycard out of his coat’s pocket. ❝Not that I make a habit out of locking her in the office, but… This time, I didn’t want to be stuck running around looking for her.❞

[growlegalweed-blog]

Legal Weed Resources

Check out... https://legalweed.gq/420/weed-hardly-affects-me-anymore-despite-not-being-a-heavy-smoker/

Weed hardly affects me anymore, despite not being a heavy smoker

Okay, so I started socially smoking with friends at 14 or 15, had a insanely low tolerance, like probably 20x lower than any of my friends ( I have an idea to why this may be, in hindsight, but I'll get to that later) That continued (with ocassional breaks of weeks/months) until around the time I was 16-17, started vaping/smoking daily (tolerance had risen, but was still laughably low)

I think for some reason I can't recall, I didn't smoke the summer after I graduated highschool, until the end of it(when I had decided I was going start dealing weed as I had the connections) and I started to buy OZ's to QP's every week or two. Didn't really keep track of my usage, but I know it still wasn't very high (I'm assuming maybe a eighth a week? Maybe more tho) and my tolerance was finally about average.

Did that till the end of the summer after my sophomore year(so, like 2 years later), when I had found my girlfriend of almost 2 years now, and decided I didn't want to deal anymore, and smoked far less for about a year. So like 9 months ago, I started smoking more(perhaps, a eigth every 1-3 weeks) and despite this relatively low usage, my tolerance has sky rocketed, especially in the past few months. Weed that is really good, has hardly been affecting me, and the affect has been what I would call lame and non stimulating (or far less than what is normal)

In the past two weeks, smoked two strains(1/8th) each, despite feeling damn near nothing(especially one of the strains which I suspect is crappier mids, maybe an auto flower silver haze)

Now, i have some ideas, but I can't say for sure and. I'm looking for insight.

Idea #1: first time I tried bud, I had coincidentally non intentionally robo tripped(that delsym orange tasted like candy, I was like 14 or 15) and I drank more than I should have (though, not a typical amount someone would take to "trip", but enough to feel some euphoria and feel the effects). The high was awesome, just got inside at my buddies house and had the typical laughing fit you'd expect ( it was headband, and it felt like I had a headband around my feet lol) and fell asleep within 20 minutes.

Every time since then(for a while), I had an insanely low tolerance, which in hindsight, just occured to me, may have been related to DXM's tolerance reducing effect (NMDA agonist I believe)

Idea #2: got prescribed Adderall junior year, took it infrequently, stopped over the summer, till senior year, and basically the same. Got re prescribed again for college, in a higher dose(30mg xr) And I took it 3-6 days a week but on average about 4 or 5. However, I began taking it every day for the most part a year later, and no summer off of it. Now I take it every day, and occasionally have 1-5 days off(maybe once every few months)

I don't know if I have something wrong with my dopamine/etc( feel like I can sleep all day/can't get out of bed/ suffer from anhedonia-not terribly on most days I don't take it) that is making my body not cooperate, or what. Have thyroid and auto immune issues on both sides of the family (mostly women tho, some of the men on my mom's side have lupus/hypo)

Also could be worse weed(as the people and growers I bought from in those large amounts no longer fuck with me, and laugh/ignore if I try to buy anything less than an oz), but distillate pens don't even mess me up if I cheif on them like a mad man(and I've had 2 in the past 3 years)

submitted by /u/IGOA2BBYKEEPINGITG [link] [comments]

[symbianosgames]

Drawn to Death, the brainchild of David Jaffe, The Bartlet Jones Supernatural Detective Agency, and SIE San Diego Studio is a game that is defined by aesthetic choice and artistic direction. But the distinctive art style evolved over time, according to Steve Merghart, art director at The Bartlet Jones Supernatural Detective Agency. 

“The game was originally envisioned as a stick figure shooter,” Merghart says, “and was always intended to have a very rough, hand drawn look that could incorporate whatever bizarre and creative ideas that the 'artist' came up with. But as the gameplay and weapons evolved, so did our idea of the artist; eventually we settled on a high school kid who was extremely creative but not terribly skilled artistically. In the game, when a player summons 'the Hand' for a super powered attack, it’s that artist’s hand that appears.”

The result is an incredible blend of the stark style of games like Mad World with the line drawings and artistic flair you’d expect to find inside the sketch book of a teenage Megadeth fanatic.

Molded to fit an arcade-y third person arena shooter, the art serves the action in fun, novel ways. When the murderous, maniacal teddy bear you’re controlling (complete with massive bloodied chainsaw) launches an explosive AoE attack at foes on a platform below you, the radius is telegraphed  in a bright, lurid red dome made up of shaded panels and wavy lines that would look right at home in a college ruled notebook.  

“We all remember that classmate that would draw in class all day, filling their notebook with amazing doodles even if they weren’t very well executed. A lot of us actually remember being that kid, which is why the art style seems to ring so true for so many players. As far as our ‘medium’ is concerned, we tried very hard to make it look as if the notebook doodles simply come to life exactly as drawn on the page. So in essence, they are made of mostly ballpoint pen scribbles.”

The “high school kid with an art kit and overactive imagination” extends all the way to the game’s palette, which Merghart says was thoughtfully limited to what you might find in a teenager’s backpack.

“We envisioned that the kid had a couple of different colored ballpoint pens, mostly blue and black, but also a red one and maybe a green one. For real splashes of color, it’s not a stretch to imagine that he also had a couple of highlighter pens in the backpack. We intentionally limited the artist’s art supplies because from a narrative point of view we didn’t want this kid to come off as very artistically talented. “

While crafting bad art is a fairly easy process, Merghart says the real challenge came in manufacturing lots of bad art with consistency. “We initially joked about simply hiring high school students to draw all the art, but the technical requirements for making reliable and consistent game art quickly ruled that out. The one thing we need to be able to do when making this game is replicate the artist’s art style over and over and over. Creating art for a 3D action game that is intended to look badly drawn by one specific artist is surprisingly hard to do!”

This meant the team needed to find experienced, highly talented artists that were also capable of drawing at a much more primitive level than they were used to, and doing so consistently and at the same reduced level over and over, across months or years of development. 

“It’s a bit like needing someone to sing a song very badly, but in exactly the same way for every showing of a Broadway musical. You end up needing an extremely talented singer with amazing vocal control, which is essentially how we’ve staffed our art team: A small team of amazing artists with an amazing range of art style control. From the concept artists, to the modelers, to the VFX artists, to the animators, everyone is able to put aside their individual styles and channel the angst-ridden musings of this creative high school kid. “

The approach to this kind of regressive art engendered some interesting experiments.

“We’ve had right handed concept artists try to draw with their left hand, texture artists holding the pen in a kindergartener’s stabbing grip, and our VFX artist struggling to find the balance of classic game effects and crudely hand-drawn splats and explosions. The one thing that no art director ever thought he’d have to say is, ‘That looks way too nice! Draw it again, only crappier.’ With a million apologies to my amazing art team, that was an almost daily occurrence.”

Throughout the art’s unique evolution though, Merghart emphasizes that the team never lost sight of their real goal: making a video game that was as fun to play as it was visually interesting. 

“Fun and rewarding gameplay has always been the guiding principle for Drawn to Death from its inception. The art style has gone through significant evolution from a stick figure shooter, to flat paper dolls running around a paper level, to the high school notebook scribbles where we have now, but the goal of making a fun-as-hell shooter with the moves and depth of a fighting game has never wavered.”

But their bizarre art design did mean a lot of room for experimentation, and that no concept for weapons and equipment was off the table, regardless of how surreal or ridiculous. “It’s been extremely amusing and gratifying to watch some of the crazier concept designs inspire some truly off the wall weapons and abilities. We have a monkey that rides on your back literally throwing poop at your enemies, a coffin that catapults out a fat, bloated, exploding corpse, and a shark-headed ninja that summons smaller explosive sharks to wreak havoc on the battlefield!”

After the design had been mostly cemented and a lot of the original artwork generated, implementing it was a completely different challenge, one that ended up generating some very unique (and ambitious) potential solutions. 

“Production art had a different set of problems to overcome, as our original goal was for the game to have an actively scribbly look to it as if it was constantly being redrawn. From double and even triple texture maps that would cycle to give the characters a very animated look to complex toon shaders that would draw and re-draw the scene for that squiggly look. Environments added a new twist as we initially wanted the game to appear as if it was taking place on a piece of lined notebook paper, flattened out and with no lighting. We quickly learned that so much white on the screen was giving people headaches, so we began looking for a lighting scheme that would make our 3D environment fit our highly stylized vision. We settled on a very controlled set of environment textures where the mip maps are actually individually drawn, and the shadows are built from layers of scribbled textures.”

As is so often the case, reality intervened and put the brakes on some of the more inventive approaches, but Merghart says the core design was retained. “Ultimately, limitations of the engine ruled out some of the more ambitious methods, but Drawn to Death still holds true to the creative director’s vision.