Share your Art with the world!

[Merrymaker_Mortalis]

You're safe as long as you keep your limbs close to your body.

PS You're in the flying position. Also that means you can experience those elements without dying. If you did that in a sit-underneath or above (ignoring rocks), the forces would shred your brain.

[Dubious_wolf]

That looks fun.

[Psycat Aurora]

So since I can't decide what to draw I decided to redraw some old stuff:

Also line art:

[The Jester]

Oh hey look, some blonde asshole.

[Dutch guy]

The right shoe is a little long and flat which makes it look a little "clownesque"

[Smeghead]

Something I've been thinking of drawing for a few months; about the two games that had the biggest impact on me last year. Them being Journey and Aquaria (yes the game came out in 2007, but I had never heard of it until last year).

Drawing Najia was... a bit hard. A) I had to look up if she had toes or flippers since I kept finding pictures of her having both. B) Her outfit is so...unique.

Its a very early sketch, and it will probably take some time before I revisit this picture.

[Merrymaker_Mortalis]

More RCT3 Porn:



World's First life-themed Wingrider.

[The Jester]

Does [url=wizardingnow.tumblr.com]a podcast that's a rip-off of a LRR video idea[/url] count as art?

Have a listen and tell me what you think.

[General Michi]

I'm supposed to be writing lyrics for that song I mentioned in the Annoy Me thread (I'm about half way done) but whenever I write lyrics I always end up dicking around on my guitar and writing more music.

Anyway, I hope you guys like this

[Psycat Aurora]

[nicholasmc1]

http://dl.dropbox.com/u/43071602/FROWNTOWN/Testbuild/build.htmlSo this is a game I made at a uni game jam I went to this weekend, we built this in 48 hours in a team of 4, I was heading up design and art. This is product of sleep deprevation and caffene, also bug fixed version will be released within a day or so when my mate gets internet again lol.

[JustAName]

RE

The first time I died, it was like heartbreak but worse. I looked down at my body, that sculpture of flesh and bone that had housed me for seventeen long years, and I cried. I had thought that when you died, something would happen, but everything looked the same. The trees rustled in the wind. A bug crawled along a leaf. The sun continued its slow, steady passage across the sky.

Eventually sitting on the dirt watching my blood gush, and then drip, and then ooze from what had been my side lost its appeal. I stood up and began to walk. The first thing I noticed was the color. Everything around me looked ten times as vibrant as it used to. I don’t know if it’s something about being dead, some crazy new method of perception that allows you to see richer hues and more stark contrasts in the light, but when you’ve lost your body somehow your senses become more acute than seems possible. Maybe it’s just that you no longer have all the little distractions you had when you were alive. I personally like to think that dying gives us a sense of appreciation to better view the world around us, but then I was always a little bit sentimental like that.

Footsteps on the path behind me jolted me out of my thoughts. I instinctively moved aside, not out of respect for the living or fear of being stepped through (I was sure it would be unpleasant), but reflexively, to avoid a collision. A moment later, when I realized I was a ghost, and it didn’t matter, a man fell into step beside me.

“Don’t worry, kid. First death is the hardest,” he said with a wink, and then he was off again, jogging down the path ahead of me and out of sight.

I wasn’t sure what the guy’s deal was (first death? What the hell?), but I knew that he had seen me, and he knew something about being dead, so I ran after him. Apparently ghosts have lungs, too, or some form of respiration, because when I arrived at a clearing by a stream, I was out of breath or whatever the hell my ectoplasm ran on.

“-this time,” the man was saying when I caught sight of him again. “The fighting was fun and all, but I want to stick around a bit.” On closer inspection, I realized that he was barely older than I was, maybe twenty or twenty-one, but his air of self-assurance gave him a bearing of someone who had lived for a while.

“Sure,” replied the woman who I had barely noticed. This was a surprise, seeing as she sat on a bench surrounded by piles of clothing, and wore at least five different colors in her own garments. “I’ve got a surgeon, an army medic…”

“Got any women?” my stranger asked, pulling off his jacket. “I haven’t been one in a while, and I kind of miss it.”

“Yeah, let’s see… I’ve got a Rachel Margaret, born to a lower-middle-class family. Gets picked on a lot, and has to defend herself and the youngsters around her. Fond of animals. Learns how to take care of horses, then gets good at medicine in general. Drafted at twenty-two, when the war starts.”

“Cocky and brash, but caring? Den mother but won’t take shit from anybody? I like it. Hand me that skirt.”

“You sure about that? Harder for running.”

“Yeah. I think she wants to remind people of her femininity. Make sure they know that she’s a woman who can kick their ass.”

“Sounds great. Oh!” The woman noticed me standing at the edge of the clearing. “Hey there, sweetheart. You just die?” Mutely I nodded. “Come here, then.” She gave me a warm smile, and I walked over to her bench without any reservations.

“See you around, kid,” said my stranger with another wink. Before I could reply, she walked off down the path, skirt rustling around her ankles.

“Who was-?” I began.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. Tell me about yourself. Dying is a traumatic experience, and you’ve got to be completely ready before you move on.”

I had thought, walking down the path earlier, that I had come to terms with my death. I had worked through the five stages and convinced myself that I had reached acceptance, but when I started to tell her about my life and the dreams I would never realize, adventures I would never have, lovers I would never even know, I found myself crying all over again. When I was done, having managed to convey a surprising amount of information in a sobbed, blubbering account of who I had been, a strange peace began to wash over me. “Me” seemed distant, and I struggled to remember why I had been so sad.

“There you go, sweetie. Let it all go. That person is dead now. It’s time to let go.”

She was right. As we went through her notes, trying to figure out who I would be next, a wonderful sense of potential filled me, and I couldn’t wait to live again.

—————————————————————————————

The second time I died, I felt a deep and abiding sense of loss. I hadn’t been cut down in my prime, but I had a hard time letting go of who I had been. Perhaps it was even more difficult, having lived in a body for fifty-five years, to lose it and everything that went along with it. While I wouldn’t miss the aches and pains that had begun to sneak up on me, I had grown attached to the way my flesh had felt. I got up, and walked down the path.

There wasn’t any crying this time. I wasn’t grief-stricken or anguished. Instead, I was angry. Angry that my family had to go on without me. Angry that all my projects, my life’s work, would remain unfinished, or, worse, finished badly. Angry that I had never let anybody know me enough to remember me as I truly was.

When I finished talking, the words I had just said felt like a story, and I laughed at the relief closure brought. I accepted a vest, a name, and a description with a calm and heartfelt smile, and went to go get changed.

—————————————————————————————

The third time I died, I opened my ghostly eyes to a sky the most magnificent shade of blue. I got up, looked around, and felt a big grin steal across my face. After stretching my limbs, I set off running down the path, slowing down as a youngster broke out of a daydream to step aside.

“Don’t worry, kid,” I called. “First death is the hardest.”

[Psycat Aurora]

[General Michi]

I wrote this in 4 hours. Be gentle.

http://soundcloud.com/np-mike/little-birds

[LadyRhian]

I am LadyRhianwriter on DeviantArt.

[Smeghead]

Comic very much inspired by the XKCD comic; Spirit. In fact I made this comic after a conversation I had where I said “now I’m just waiting for XKCD to make a comic about how the Voyager will be all alone for the rest of eternity. unless I beat him to it!” yeah… as if I could ever make anything as good as that…

Nothing special artwise.

Also, this comic only took me about 2 hours to make! Yay me!

[Merrymaker_Mortalis]

More Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 Screenshotness from me!



It's a Vekoma (the manufacturing company) Suspended Duelling Coaster(s).

A duelling coaster is when you have two roller coasters built next to each other. They are synchronised as perfectly as they can. As they travel along their layouts, there will be sections of interactions which produce:
visually impressive sights
appearance of calamity for the rider.

They are not to be confused with 'racing' coasters which are a more civilised version.

I've made another duelling coaster in the last 6months that I'd love to share if you guys are curious.

Real-life examples: Duelling Dragons/Dragon's Challenge
Battle-Star Galactica

(Trees and Supports are mods)

[Smeghead]

Forgotten existence

t had been several decades since light last fell on it, years since anyone had seen it. Now it was all but forgotten by everyone. Those who had built it were most likely long dead along with those who shaped it and its purpose. The door had closed and darkness had descended around it. The sounds of marching feet, talk and laughter that had once filled the hall outside had long since been silenced.

Abandoned and forgotten, created only to serve in case the worst case scenario. The worst never happened and the world had moved on but no one had come for it or ended its existence. So it waited, waited like it had done for decades, waited for a signal from the outside world from one whose purpose -but not function- almost mirrored its own. One who was most likely as forgotten as it was.

If the signal ever came it would spring to action and shower the outside with a per-recorded message by its late creators and those they had served. What was the message? It didn’t know. A message of hope? a call to arms? a desperate plea? it did not matter. Unless time would take its toll and end its existence through decay or if someone remembered it and decided to finally end it; it would wait.

Wait for a day when it would send its message and fulfill the only purpose its existence had warranted.

Even if there would be no one left to hear it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
This started out as something very different, but I had a hard time expressing the concept in the original version so I decided to write it like this instead. Probably shouldn't be too hard to figure out what it is about.

[Psycat Aurora]

[Drecon]

The mouth and jawline are a bit masculine but overall very nice work (Elves can be androgynous right?). All proportions are good and the details are rough but add a lot to the picture.

[The Jester]

[The Jester]

[Merrymaker_Mortalis]

The Strip Search legacy...

[nicholasmc1]

http://www.kongregate.com/games/TheSamuraiPunks/frowntown And we're live, Frowntown can now be played by all!

[The Jester]

And no, Merry, this isn't Strip Search's legacy; I've never watched an episode, and I was putting together the ideas that form the basis of this comic up to several years ago.