As of right now it is totaled at 70kb when I slice it up. The background can be repeated, I just put that gradient in to fill space just for right now.
I've made a few changes and removed the big icons. There was something I was going to do with them, but I scrapped the idea.
Nope. Working on modeling the design on and off, but the model is new.Originally Posted by Sel
@Big: too much white and glow. It's going to be extremely bright. try some darker shades and/or colour.
g36 or freelancer. what's it gonna be boy
i know i'm really on your case about this but trust me it's for your own good, break bad habits now before they take hold
MrBig, bring the complexity of that design down a few notches. You want your portfolio to command more attention than your website. Even if your business is graphic design, don't make everything pretty at the expense of usability.
Finally, I got someone to animate this MA3CS.
Props to Eyeballman/Jackal Stomper for the animations, hes cool.
http://www.xfire.com/video/201b01/
Last edited by Advancebo; January 29th, 2010 at 07:21 PM.
Hahaha what is freelancer going to do? kill me?
Here, Stop nagging. Need more details for proportion or is this good enough? I'll finish it off, but Mr. Rifle here gotta check proportion first.
Here's the new opening to that novel I've been working on. I've trimmed it down considerably, changed the entire opening... it's still a piece of shit, but at least I've been working on it.
It feels... wrong in some way, but I can't pinpoint exactly where. Maybe you guys can help.
Some people in this world were meant to do great things. They are the stuff which legends are made of, the people whose names are immortalized in the history books of the world. They are the heroes whose stories get passed down from generation to generation.
Our story is not about those people.
No, our story is the tale of Bob Guy, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed young American of medium height and a sun-kissed complexion. Bob was extraordinary, not because he was meant to do great things, but because he had the distinction of being the only one in the world around him who was not exceptional in any way. His sole purpose in life was simply to serve as a warning to others, for he was like a slinky: completely useless, but fun to push down stairs.
He had been assigned to this particular post because the bigwigs up at Blue Command said he should be there, and whether or not the people who had to suffer through his “antics” agreed with said bigwigs was none of their business.
Bob had woken himself from his sleep to the sound of troops scurrying about, preparing for an attack by the Communist Red army. Confused as to what all the commotion was about, he hurriedly dressed into his military uniform and walked into the main control facility. He leaned against a wall, watching Soldier after soldier scurry throughout his base. It was a form of entertainment to him.
His eyes darted around the room as they took in the military-cliché dark grey paneling around him. Mounted into one of the walls nearby was a great silver elevator which Bob could swear wasn’t there the day before. He made a note to see where it went one day. Right next to it were several barrels, left over from when this base used to be a wind power plant. One of the barrels seemed slightly out of place, as if something heavy had been heaved onto it and no one felt like fixing it.
There was an annoying voice in the room, and Bob couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. He looked up, he looked down, he looked diagonally, he looked everywhere he could possibly think of. It was driving him crazy, because he could swear that this voice was talking about him, it was describing his every movement, it knew what he was thinking, it knew what he was saying, it was condemning him, it seemed to be making fun of him, all in a very narrator-ish tone.
"COMMANDER!” Bob shouted, “THE VOICES IN THE SKY ARE TALKING ABOUT ME AGAIN!"
Bob’s Commander groaned. He knew Bob would not stop pestering him until he got a response, and so he decided to spare himself the agony of Bob’s constant pleas as he grudgingly turned to face his least-favorite Private. "Did you wake up and begin talking to yourself again?”
“This is different!” Bob cried indignantly. He looked confused for a moment, as if the voice in the sky had just used a really big word, the meaning of which he wasn’t quite sure of.
His Commander raised one of his eyebrows. “Did you, Bob?”
“Yes, only the other me was a zombie this time. And he tried to talk back to me. And it was scary. And then there was another guy who tried to talk to me. And he scared me, too,” Bob sounded as if his voice gasping for air inbetween every sentence.
His Commander paused for a moment to take in this information, “That confirms it. You are crazy, Bob. C-R-A-Z-Y. Loco. Insane. Not right in the head. You’re three fries short of a Happy Meal. Just take your pills and ignore the voices, and then they'll go away."
"Ok.” Bob said after a sigh, realizing that any further argument with his Commander wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He turned skyward. “Mr. Voice, can you go bother someone else?"
There was silence, as the narrator voice didn't have a reply. He simply narrated what was going on around him; it was his job, he had to do it, and there was no such thing as going away for him.
"Commander! The narrator voice from the sky says he doesn't have a reply, then he said that he wasn‘t going to go away!"
The Commander, who was searching for the clear state of mind which the act of commanding demands was and thoroughly frustrated with Bob’s childish voice penetrating the inner womb of his thoughts, yelled from the other room, "Bob. Take your pills and ignore it. It'll go away soon." He turned to one of his other soldiers, whom had just returned from running some calculations through the base’s computer.
“How bad are the casualties so far?” the Commander hissed in a hushed tone.
The Lieutenant frowned and tried not to look his Commander in the eye, instead choosing to pick a spot on the wall and stare at it. “It’s not looking good, sir.”
The Commander frowned as well at this news. “Where the hell’s Chad?”
The Lieutenant continued to stare at his chosen spot as he said, “Computer says he’s on vacation, sir.”
“Didn’t he just get back from vacation?”
“Not according to the computer, sir.”
“We’re screwed,” the Commander said, realizing that the computer was designed to never be wrong. He sighed a deep, prolonged, exasperated sigh, patted the soldier on the back, and walked over to speak to Bob. "We're losing men, and fast,” the Commander said to his least favorite soldier, “I would send you out there, but um… You have... ‘Special needs’."
"That's what my mommy told me!" Bob said with a bright and vibrant smile on his face. He liked thinking of his mommy. She was nice.
The Commander paused. "We need you, though."
"Need me for what?" Bob asked innocently.
"We need you to stay the hell out of everyone's wa-” The Commander started, then rethought what he was about to say. He had been given a wise piece of advice when he was a child: before you insult a man, walk a mile in his shoes. That way, when you insult him, you'll be a mile away, and you’ll have his shoes. Finally, his thoughts seemed to arrive at some form of equilibrium, and he said, “Rather, we need you to ‘watch the base’. I'm going to have to go out there, and I have to leave you in charge of the base, but whatever you do, do NOT hit that button right next to you."
Bob looked around for the button, and then found it next to a large computer display. Below the computer’s monitor, there was a red button with a warning above it which read, in a very large font which was clearly designed to be noticed, “CAUTION: SELF-DESTRUCT”. Above the self-destruct warning was an extra-large sticky note with some writing hastily scrawled onto it.
"You mean the red button with the BIG sticky note above it which has 'DO NOT PRESS THIS, BOB' written on it?" Bob inquired.
His Commander nodded. "Yes, that one. Do you understand?"
"Yep!" Bob said with a big grin.
"I need you to repeat what I said, Bob. What did I say?"
"I need you to rep-"
"NO, NO, NOT that!"
"NO, NO, NOT that!"
"Repeat what I said the first time."
"What I said the first time,” Bob said after a moment of thought.
“Bob. Listen to me. This is what I need you to repeat: NEVER hit that button next to you."
Bob paused, took this information in for a moment, and replied with, "NEVER hit French toast before bedtime."
The Commander paused and sighed, a sigh which one typically used when they had seen enough for one lifetime. He had no clue which part of Bob’s brain THAT had come from, but he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with him this way. He felt as if he were driving retards to the zoo, and said retards were trying to lick the windows and stick their heads out of the bus the whole way.
"Umm... Yeah. Let's go with that. I'm going to back away slowly, and you're NOT going to hit that button."
“Even if the voices tell me to?”
“Even if the voices tell you to.”
"OK!" Bob said cheerfully.
The Commander backed slowly off and left Bob alone to struggle with the difficult order his Commander had given him.
Last edited by English Mobster; January 29th, 2010 at 11:41 PM.
http://derekdennison.codebrainshideout.net/
This is the home page, it will have some of my favorite drawings and photos. The rest of it will have more room for displaying photos and all the like.
Now how do I make the different parts overlap, or should I be doing it a different way?
I don't know any html, I got this far by playing around and trying things out.
I'm in Denver Airport. I'll check when I get home.Hahaha what is freelancer going to do? kill me?
Here, Stop nagging. Need more details for proportion or is this good enough? I'll finish it off, but Mr. Rifle here gotta check proportion first.
Don't you get uppity with me boy <>
I was told im allowed to show this:
Its not being used though.Ohwell.
Old renders:
Really old:
Really... wth, I cant make shot tags work.
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