Patriotic Canadian

car models need a proper CC texture for easy texturing

Blackbird. Yeah i scrapped that ages ago. I didn't think to actually go and plan it out, so it turned into a gigantic caterwauling mess. Plus i had clear ideas of the charicters, no real overarching idealogy for the story to bounce off of, no real plot in it and such. I've been thinking of redoing it, dumping into a charicter sheet. Only got about four charicters in and it's already 12,000 words, so i might be doing something right. Hard to come up with 'antagonists' when i hate having clear cut villians. I'm sure i'll come up with something though

I haven't laughed that hard in ages, poor kid doesn't understand 3/4th's of what he's sying Patronising means to be a smug and condescending asshole to people, usually to children, and i have really no clue what he was trying to say there. Expenditure means spending something, or a business exertion, i think he was aiming in the general direction of Explicit. Plus "existence proof" can be considered redundant, since "Explicit existence" would mean that it blatantly is regardless of any other imposition, but whatever. So all of humanity will rile at this trespassing of hallowed ground? All the bloodshed, all the tears, all the evil, all the malice, the mauling, the rapte, torture and wretchedness of humanity, the insipid hatred of the world is one thing, but lying about pretend monster trucks, that's over the line. Humanity now has a common cause. Every religion, every crook, sect, creed and villain, every hero and every tramp, every band and every mind on earth will see unity against a common cause. The neo Nazis and the Jews will bear arms together, the Muslims and the Philistines will roar with a common voice, the sky punctured with the banners of unity, peace, a common vision and the very essence of the greater grey soul of humanity, floating above the plains, it's insurmountable mass empty, and yet fuller beyond the comprehension, conveyance and integrity of any word of man. When you into the grey abyss, you see humanity at it's full. Every thought, every idea and every person that ever was, the infinite depth of nothingness cleansing your mind, a deep wash of understanding overtaking you as you simply sit down and think, processing humanity in it's entirety. But no, today the entity lends it's hand for a greater cause. Since the dawn of creation it's been content to sit and watch the sand box of time, as it blows through the ethereal mists of reality. Watching over billions of years as the blowing sands of every thing that ever was sift and blow in the wind of time, forming dunes and castles of glass, all eventually eroded and torn to bits once more, endlessly reforming, crumbling and shaping up in grander shapes than ever before. But no, the great sociologist that rests between the fabric folds of reality can bear no more. The tendrils of the great mists of humanity drag across the ground, attatched to the great shapeless mass as it trundles across the never ending hordes of the entire breadth of humanity as it trudges on towards the transgressor. The great being's tendrils seem to follow no logic. Somtimes they drift through matter as if it wasn't there, some times they catch, and drag, as if they weighed more than all the matter in the universe combined, and sometimes they touch, and they bounce, drifting upwards as if untouched by any external forces. The Great One is distracted. Occasionally the ethereal spines touch humans, the simple people marching along with nothing but hate, spite and well deserved indignation on their faces. And catching their minds, their expression changes, their eyes move, faster than one can see, as their mind takes in far more information than one's mind is designed to endure, all from the faintest touch the mists of humanity. Slowly their eyes slow, and an expression of comprehension comes across their face. Their hate driven march now powered by an acceptance of the great laws of the universe. They have a higher calling now. And as they cross the lands, burning all that they see as unfit for a new world, the glow of their goal echos through the sky like a bastionesque flair in the distance. The weaker of the vanguard fall before the coursing energy of the united force of people, neither the Great One nor anyone else take notice, simply pushing on to the final goal. And of course, they find you. They kick down your door in a maelstrom of splinters, world's ash and the phlogiston of humanity, which flows into the room as a nearly tangible object, violently pushing all aside, leaving you, cowering in the corner, hiding from the tempest of the inevitable horde. Of course the old humanity would have made it excruciating. Drawn it out over weeks, months mabye even years. No punishment too soft for such a henious crime. A crime beyond words, or comprehension beyond that of pure and righteous hatred. A crime against the very fabric of the universe. But this is the new humanity, one that's been touched by the ethereal grey mass that studies from beyond that which is, and even that which isn't. The masses part quietly as the floating conscious mass of ideas floats across the ground. Though the being maybe hundreds of feet square, it doesn't shrink as it flows through the door, but neither does it grow, but neither does it seem to contort, but seems to glide through the tiny opening without effort. And it touches you. In your last vested grasp of conciousness. Your last tenious moments of awareness, you understand what you've done, the very touch of the great creature is enough to make you loathe the very fabric of your being, or even the very notion of a creature such as you being able to exist. The great one is subtle, it needn't directly kill, but allows it's beneficiaries to exist of their own accord, if only due to it's immense truths. But as your light fades, there is one tiny shrapnel tear of consolation. One tiny glint of redemption in the never ending mire of loathsome vacuousness that is your mind in it's final picosecond. Through you're wretched, vile, indescribably heinous acts, you've saved humanity. You're allowed to watch, as the sapient mists seem to glance at the seven billion faces standing out side the building in an endless leveled plain that used to be the city. And it fades. The grey mists seem to seep out of reality, flitting behind tiny slivers of unbeing hidden in the spaces reality. And with that, all those that received the Mists's touch collapse, nothing but reserved understanding smiles on their faces, their eyes deeper than what can be described. Never ending pits of information, tunelling all the way back to the soul of humanity itself. You watch as the seven billion people of the earth blink, and turn away. Free of emotion, of pain, of anguish, of any detrimental qualities one can imagine. By forcing the great one's intervention, you've allowed it's touch to regrow the earth, and all it's creatures. And over the thousands of years afterwards, this seed of halcyon beauty will spread across the universe like a cancerous disease, ridding the millions of sentient species of their woes, their troubles, and their sin, curing the universe of the disease of sentience. Or mabye you just called someone out over pretend monster truck bullpooe. who knows. I... What? JESUS CHRIST HE'S BREAKING THE VERY FABRIC OF LANGUAGE. FIRE WILL RAIN FROM THE SKY, THE WORLD WILL BURN AS SOCIETY COLLAPSES. THE WORLD DEPENDS ON COMMUNICATION, WE'VE BUILT OUR CULTURE ON THE ABILITY TO CONJURE WORDS TO COMMUNICATE AND CONVEY IDEAS. HE'S RUINED IT. THE VERY CORNERSTONES OF HUMANITY WILL CRUMBLE AND DECAY. CHAOS IN THE STREETS, MURDER, BLOODSHED AND HELLFIRE. WE'LL ALL BURN. RUN WHILE YOU CAN. But you didn't Particularly fond of this bit That's no great triumph. I am toying with organic modelling, and i am getting better at it, but still, any character isn't quite a feat of majesty, especially the way i do it. All in all this is my own fault. He said he was trying to make a new monster truck in ROR and i encouraged him along, thinking that i've been doing nothing but telling ambition off for a long while now, take a shot in the dark, why not. oh well, mabye he'll come 'round, people are as people will be

I wrote songs for a friend's band once, but as is usual for such things, they told me they didn't want to help me flesh out the music for them because they wanted to write love songs for teenaged girls oh well, have a really pooty draft from ages ago Every Single Story Standing on a mountain top A sudden gist of brittle mortality Watching a bleeding man’s heart stop So why keep the pretences of morality Striding through the mountain’s foil A golden fawn, prodding at the thin mortal coil The weary doe gleaming at her progeny Thoughts of the ambiguousness of the word enemy If every single story, that ever was told Is of people going grey, and slowly turning old Watching the ceiling, at our forming mould. And seeing the reaper, standing in the cold The only test that ever was, a thin Brittle knowledge of the people’s true king So see the reaper, feet on a stool made of fear Invite the bastard in, offer him some cognac and beer A tired and vilified creature, so frail and crass The golden palace shudders, the noise of a thousand summers past He finds his brevet lament, a shired epitaph And he sees his son, a cruel creature never to laugh Two loose kin falling to the sky The sentient sprawl never ask why And if the halcyon days see fit I’ll be bestowed with a calloused wit And if we just stay the course Keep our hands on the raft One wreck later I’ll be left with a handsome craft And every day, I spend in the park A fragile feel, tempered by the howling dark And if every single story, is a story about growing old Christ knows, it’s a story better left untold Again, really rough draft. Most of the things i write were just done at 3AM on a laptop in a single burst, never given a second thought This one was supposed to be sung similar to Elbow's https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Scz4hf4vhVc. Not really sure why i keep coming back to the White/Black knight concept. I guess i really like playing with the idea of the black knight, or the 'bad guy' being a decent person at heart, driven to indecency by circumstance, and the white knight tired of his own righteousness to the point of cognitive dissonance Shotgun Politics Ooh, There’s been hollin’ at the dead men, a crown on widows head A shotugn’s passed around, the white knight’s seein’ red. They say there’s bangin’ at the front door, the taxmen run on spite. No blinkin’ no revulsion, no rest or relentin’ on the quest to see who’s right. They say there’s a line of the angry, marchin’ up for the suits. The stiffbacks indifferent, ignorin’ the sword of Scottish roots. There’s honesty in the backroom, the bitter eyed turnin’ offended. Shady poker the surest thing you’ll find, the black hearted endangered. They say if they die happy, it’s because his brother bled out first. I’m brandishin’ my shotgun, this’ll hardly be the worst. Now the bridges are collapsin’, only good news in a bad noose. No thinkin’ or restin’, the new way rolls through, the winners makin’ sure there never was a loser. If they say history remembers the winner, then I say we’ll never be seen. A hateful black knight, fightin’ to save the three he loves, a pearl dent in a daunting matte sheen. The tribes’ll run round, fighting for a muffler god. The shotguns sing two tunes, and you’re a little dead you lovein’ sod. A paltry weight and a heavy gait, the dead mans stare burnin’ light. A tired man’s dead, marchin’ through a desert night. Little old lady with an MP48, husband’s name engraved on the stock. Father’s a sinner shan’t have dinner, the little boys balk, instinctive hate minglin’ their talk.. Shotgun politics bite once more, and y’shant have me you credulous little nice ladys. And what’ve we got after a thosand paltry wars, a million little scars and shotgun politics once more. And what the hell, one more for the posterity. Morning Shine And in this evenin’s glass of wine I see tomorrow mornin’s shine. Well I don’t really like that. Off to the nine to five in a sensible hat Don’t you want to walk on rich grass With your worse half, so adorably crass. Don’t you want a stable of cars And go so far as to call it ou- Well I take my outed hat And I ain’t havin’ none of that. I set my sights on tomorrow’s shine And I take it with a stout glass of wine. The wild in your shoulder It ain’t hidin’ as you grow older So come and ride don’t you run and hide come and take a swig of barbon if it’ll help you carry on. So take a trip down a foggy road Leave the familiar and the old No need for conservative deeds Smoke your tires and ignore their needs Society expects you to prepare tomorrow’s game And just between us, it’s your dragon slain. The idea of throwin’ in your own head So that tomorrow’s man may never dread By my eye, it’s a flawed plan It’s always you, dyin’ for tomorrow’s man And then, as you guess It’s his turn, to take in the guests So don’t you want to fly away And let others decide tomorrow’s day So come drive away Let them say what they say Using cars and highways as a metaphor for life? TOTALLY ORIGINAL AMIRITE

Thing is the shade you have there has no definition. Model could be the most complex sculpt in the world but a bad diffuse will ruin it for pure black i use a tone about here Then put a dark AO over that for definition, then use that, inverse it, mabye draw some edge highlights turn it to a greyscale and use that as a spec mask. Game engines can't shade anything darker than that really, you can't darken dark

Never go pure black. ever. sit in the corner and think about what you've done

Good christ throw some grammer and paragraph breaks in there man

Kozak's gone metaphorical these are the end times

SUDdy got nude. Beautiful truck it is

please tell me you saved that. sounds hilarious

He started saying that before i'd even made it. Optimistic kid innit he

Which is rude sometimes i'll bite, what's happened

the thread can end now

Sort of. got the fender profiles down right, but then i realized i'd shaped my pauldron things wrong and sort of forgot about it. 50%ish there

No but if it's any consolation you're the closest SM has ever been to proper quality, so that's something

What about a racesource? Criminally underlooked those things

I told ya to start with the 'spine' of the body, add the details onto it. i find that it helps perspective and scaling for the rest of the body, mabye it's just me but the hood looks a bit stubby, side things don't quite look flushed out with the curve of the body, and i swear i remember those bulges on the fenders being on the inside only, not across the entire front. Also i noticed on the front you've taken the top ridge and extruded it along the arrow without rotation. works for the extranious edge, as the shape of the curve is preserved, but not for the red edges i drew over rough and shoddy example, but what i do is take the curve i drew, rotate it to the 'end' loop, usually 90 degress, shape it up, scale it along Y since that's how real curves work, shrink it down a touch, loop cut the middle, mouve the outer bits out, clean up, make sure it's clean, loop cut either side, repeat sculpts the curve nicely, shades it as it should be, doesn't break edge loops. A rule of thumb is to set the edge split modifier to about 35, anything that splits too much is a 'bad' surface. keep working on it until it looks right

And what about concussions, Aren't they about 12 grand?

Besides, there's way more schemes to run before pink. Rat rod, surf wagon, two tone beige/white, surf green, california sunset anything, dead flat primer with bondo patches, taxi, because why not, Lead sled, teal, gloss black with airbrush flames hell that's just off the top of my head

Make a new vehicle, make it look like a post, or mabye lights fitted to a stadium, lights are bound to change as headlights congratulations, you now have lights oh plus i suspect that if the track is loaded at different times, the animated textures will play back at different times since i'm fairly sure they don't work off of a serverbased timescale

ITT: Critisism is bad and you should feel bad for stepping out of line

loadsawork.avi

0/10 completly unrealistic