FrozenDeath

Recursive slammed her face into somebody's hard shoulder. She leaned back against the tech-looking metal wall of the corridor, rubbing her nose to the rhythm of the loud dance music pulsing in the background. The man she hit didn't even turn. He was tall and athletically built, encased from head to toe in some sort of flexible blue body armor that resembled a cross between a wetsuit and an insect carapace. The ensemble included angular eye coverings and an array of spikey protrusions that formed a crest over the forehead. He was debating something with another man who was also armored.

The second guy had a large cybernetic arm, his left, with an oversized hand that was projecting a holograph of technical schematics over the open palm. He had a metal chestplate and shoulder pads. A large belt with various tools and hi-tech looking gadgets. He wore a helmet with glowing sensor arrays that covered the upper half of his head, including his eyes. He broke off his conversation with the first gentleman and addressed her.

"Everything all right miss?"

Recursive coughed and straightened herself. "Uh...um..no...." The man in blue looked at her with obvious annoyance.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"There's a thing...a creature outside...it stabbed a child."

The man with the robotic arm gestured, flagging her to continue. "Someone with a knife? That's all? Is there anything else?"

"It killed a little girl!"
"With a knife...just a knife?"
"It's some sort of alien...being. It stabbed the girls and then ripped the playground apart with tendrils of dark energy..."

"Right on." The second man punched some buttons on the chest plate. Lights on various parts of his armor began to flicker. "We got this one."
"Like hell you do." The man in blue tapped the crest on his head armor. He spoke into a hidden microphone. "Squad assemble at Founders entrance. Hurry, we got a live one!"

The two pushed past Recursive and bolted out the door. A moment later there was a hammering of footsteps as a menagerie of costumed people turned the corner into the hallway and sprinted her way. There were capes and shields and oversized fantasy weapons. Skull masks and berets and auras of flame and energy circling fists, smoldering in eyes. They were almost all men, a couple provocatively clothed women popping out of the mass of frenzied movement. Recursive shrank back against the wall to avoid the stampede, pointing to the door as the glared at her and then passed by.

After the initial rush a few more filtered by. A blue skinned mystic, laughing as he bounced against the walls and ceiling, floating drunkenly through the air. An archer with a blue energy bow hopping along as he tried to pull his pants up while wielding the cumbersome weapon. Someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Are you a friend of Dr. Proxy, miss?" It was a large, but otherwise normal looking man in a business suit. He smiled, adjusting his sunglasses.

"Yes..." He gestured down the hall.
"I'm with the club here. I've been instructed to direct you--go down the hall and turn left. Walk straight to the large service elevator and take it to the main dance floor. Just go on in and you will meet your contact there."
"Thank you."
"My pleasure."

She did as he instructed and emerged into a loud, brightly lit space with more costumed hero types milling about. She attracted a couple of inquiring stares upon entry but was soon after ignored. Everyone was drinking and most of the people were gathered around small tables in discussion rather than dancing. She looked at empty cages hanging overhead. There was a bar off to the right where a massive solitary figure in a black cloak and cape was drinking. The other people in the club gave the figure wide berth. Recursive sighed and shuffled forward sluggishly, unclear on how to proceed.

A woman at a distant table stood up and waved. She was beautiful in a severe way, very pale skin with jet black eyes and hair, the latter cut in a sharp wedge that didn't reach collar length. She was slim but curvacious and was wearing

some sort of latex outfit that followed her figure tightly and flashed a lot of cleavage. It was black and shiny with elaborate stripes and shapes in the construction. It suggested fetish more than super powers, which made the woman stand out even further. She approached, slapping the large dark figure on the back as she walked by. He laughed and grumbled something that sounded like gravel shifting.

"Mere! Mere mal Faire! Over here babe!"

Recursive gestured to herself. "Me? Are you talking to me?"

The woman's eyes narrowed as she got close. She frowned slightly. "Oh...you aren't Mere."
"No. I don't know who that is, sorry."
"But Proxy sent you?" The woman looked Recursive up and down. She fingered the jacket, scrutinizing the vomit residue on the sleeve.

"Um..yeah I guess. Following his instructions led me here..."
"Well you made it to the right place. I was supposed to meet 'someone' here. I was thinking it would be Mere. Have you met Mere?"

Recusive had a strange feeling of familiarity looking into the woman's eyes. "No..but...do I know you? Have we met?"

The woman laughed.

"We have and we haven't met. You see, I'm the 'you' of this dimension." She reached took Recursive's hand and shook it, smiling broadly. "But you can call me Love Tap."

I've done it before, along with a substantial amount of freebie art for different people. But I really don't see that much appreciation for community based art gestures anymore. People are shopping around deviantart and it really doesn't matter much if you've even played the game or participated in this forum. Good luck in you're endeavor, I don't think it's the sort of thing I'll be doing.

Pursuit (part 2)

The faded outline of the hopscotch diagram stretched over four sections of pavement. Bulb stood near the middle, on the left side of a horizontal pair of squares. The street was quiet for the moment, but children were gathering on the other side of the fence.

"Lady, who is that man?"
"He looks scarey..."

Recursive forced a smile and tried to shoo them away but more kept coming, attracted by the commotion.

"It's nothing kids, just somebody playing a joke on me ok?"
"But he looks mean is he a bad man?" In the distance a parent was starting to look for their child. Recursive leaned forward and whispered to the nearest kids.

"Listen, I'm going to try to make him go away..but I need your help. Can somebody find me a flat stone? Or something like a beanbag or hacky sack?" The children moved away from the fence, scrambling to find something. A small boy quickly returned with a large flat stone.

"Okay, I'm gonna play now. After I get to the other side, you guys go back to your parents."
"Oookay."

Recursive gritted her teeth and lifted the stone. She took aim and tossed it towards the square occupied by Bulb. It skidded slightly on the pavement but stayed inside the box. Then she took a deep breath and began hopping across the diagram. Soon she was at the double squares, hopping to the right and avoiding the section occupied by Bulb. It lashed out blindly as she bounced past, slicing a hole in the shoulder of her jacket, though the blade missed her flesh. She bounced through to the end, waving to the children.

"See guys? I made it! Go on now! Go play!"

There was a rasping metallic shriek behind her. The children all screamed in horror and ran towards their parents as the creature began shifting in space and breaking up the pavement squares with tendrils of darkness, the first manifestation of the power it had stolen from FD. Recursive kept walking, her hands shaking slightly as she looked at the list. There was only one more item.

4. Jump rope.

She could feel her skin start to crawl as she saw three adolescent girls up ahead skipping rope. How was she going to comply with the list and not put the girls in danger? She was getting close now. She ventured a glace over her shoulder and Bulb was following again, slowly at a distance. Then she was there. She gulped.

"Um hi girls. How's it going?"
"Ummm fiiine."
"I love jump rope. Do you mind if jump in for a sec?"

The girls shrugged and looked at one another.
"It's ok I guess."
"Umm sure jump in."

The girls laughed as Recursive hopped over the rope, bending down as she bounced to allow the rope to swing over her head. They spun it faster, trying to trip her up, but she kept skipping in time despite the wobble from the wedge heels of the boots. They were giggling and shouting, "faster, faster!", when the rope began to slow.

"Who's the weirdo?"
"Eww I don't like you..go away you creep!"

Without thinking or saying anything Recursive ran. She jumped over the rope and was sprinting down the street. Away from the children and away from the killer, in the vague hope that somehow...things would work out. She would be safe. The kids would be safe. The thing would follow her but she'd get away. Something or someone would show up and handle it. Then she stopped at the corner of the block.

There was a bloodcurdling scream. She looked back, pressing her fingers against her cheeks.

It was killing a girl. It had stabbed her in the back. There was blood on her shirt. Blood on the pavement. The other two had been knocked down, they were motionless. The thing raised an arm. A wave of darkness gushed out, ripping through the fence. More screams as a man was tossed from a picnic table. People running as a swing set was unearthed and tossed through the air, the legs of the thing striking a woman as she ran for cover.

Guilt. Fear. Cowardice. Horror. Recursive's legs moved mechanically, carrying her around the corner where she fell to the gound and started to retch, heaving blindly against the fence. She felt something in her shift. She thought of Callie Green...could see though her eyes as she stood outside of her school. Afraid of bullies waiting for her inside. Then there were other voices in her head. Screaming. They told her to move. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of the jacket and looked up.

On the other side of a narrow alley she faced a large brick building. A metal door had a large capital "D" inscribed on the surface. It glittered slightly in the overcast shadow of the building. Along the side of the letter there were scratches, as if someone had keyed the door methodically over and over again. Taken together, the marks extended the D into a P. Proxy? She staggered up, blood ringing in her ears as she wrenched the door open and slid herself inside.

I get it a lot where I hit phase, go through the phase animation, and then die from a bunch of people hitting me. I assume it's basically the same thing, lag makes it look like I activated in time, when I really didn't.

Recursive staggered a bit as she felt her feet press against solid ground. She looked down at her clothing, now changed to a suede jacket and jeans. She shifted slightly on leather wedge-heeled boots. The air was cooler than it had been, maybe Autumn now in this reality. The wind picked up as pedestrians brushed past her and she began walking with the flow of traffic. The plate glass windows of upscale store fronts flanked her on either side of the street. She dug inside the purse that had appeared at her hip, shifting the strap on her shoulder. She pulled out Proxy's list and looked at the first direction.

1. Don't panic. Bulb is 5 feet behind you. Keep walking until you reach the coffee shop on the right. Enter, get in line, and then order a drink. There is money in the purse. Don't look back.

She clutched the purse strap reflexively, struggling to keep her movements in time with the shoppers around her. There was a footstep behind her. A hollow, thud on the pavement, almost like someone wearing heavy clogs. She took a breath and continued moving, glancing at the storefronts on her right. The coffee shop came up on the right and she ducked in. There was a couple in line at the counter, waiting to place their order. She stepped up behind them, looking furtively back towards the door.

Bulb was standing outside the window, strange lights swimming in the glassy form of its head. People passed by without even looking at it. It pulled a blade out of a suit pocket and dragged the tip slowly over the surface of the glass producing a high pitched squeel. The people at the nearest table didn't even look, continuing their chit chat in between the jabs at their cheesecake. Recursive looked around the room. Was she the only one that could see him?

The clerk called her to the counter. She order a latte and stood there, tapping the counter as they brewed it. When she payed and turned to leave, it was in the shop. Standing in the corner, with a pistol in its gloved hand. She sipped the drink and casually walked to the door, noticing that its outline blurred a bit as she did so. She glanced at the list.

2. Pick up stack of clothing, carry it to the next block and deposit it in the large charity collection box at the edge of the parking lot.

There was a small pile of shirts and jeans on the ground outside the coffee shop. Shifting the drink and map to one hand she scooped them up and started to cross the street. She was jarred a bit as Bulb rushed past her, knocking her to the side and sloshing the coffee. She watched as it ran to a woman partway down the next block and it grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. The woman yelled and looked around, apparently unable to see what had touched her. As Recursive approached she was still outraged and disoriented. Bulb's body momentarily dissolved and shifted away like smoke on the wind.

"What the hell was that? Did anyone see anything?" She looked at Recursive. "Did you see what pushed me?"
"Sorry ma'am, no I didn't."

Recursive made it to the next street and waited for the traffic to clear. The light changed and she started to cross when there was a resistance at her right arm. Her heart pounded as she realized it was Bulb's gloved fingers pinching the fabric, but she held her composure and casually broke away, walking the to metal collection box on the other side at the edge of a gas station parking lot. She shoved the clothes inside and sipped the coffee as she looked at the list.

3. Hopscotch

There were no hopscotch markings in the immediate area. Tingles of panic flickered through he as she clutched the list and wondered where to go. Without even making a conscious decision she kept walking straight. She sipped the rest of the coffee, watching the reactions of people on the street. Hushed, confused reactions to something behind her. She stopped for a second, tossing the coffee container into a trash can, when a heavy hand gripped her shoulder and restrained her from proceeding.

He had her. For the moment, he was just holding her there. It occurred to Recursive that Bulb may still be unclear on her identity. It may have been waiting for some reaction, some desperate motion that would signal that he had the right target. She shifted awkwardly and felt around her various pockets for FD's folded up paper. She felt a tinge of relief to locate it in her left back pocket, although it didn't seem to be helping her much at the moment.

"Whoaaaa!! Dude what is that?!"
"Like cool man!"

Two adolescent boys stood in front of her. One had a puffy jacket with an oversized fur-lined hood. The greenish surface was covered with stylized aliens and skulls. His baggy pants were a loud contrasting orange as were the shoes. The other kids was more rock and roll, with a plain black t-shirt and jeans, biker boots and black painted fingernails prominent as he puffed a cigarette. His hair was a deflated black mohawk that covered half of his head.

"Is that thing supposed to be a robot or something? Without glancing back, Recursive smiled wanly and tried to satisfy their curiosity.

"Ummm...uh it's kinda like..um performance art." The boy in the hood grinned widely and looked at the other.
"Dude you know what that is? I bet you man it's a Resident! Dude its a new Resident, it's gotta be!"
"Wha--? No.."
"Yeah dude.."
"Wha?"
"Dude yeah seriously...
"No...wha?"
"Yeah dude..forreal..
"Like the Residents haven't put out an album in like 5 years dude!"
"Hell yeah bro totally!"

The kid in the hood got closer to Bulb. Recursive felt the weight of the hand begin to lighten.

"Dude is that like plastic or glass? Is it heavy to wear dude?"
"It's gotta be. Plus the mic in there and stuff.."
"Oh crap dude like can I get your autograph too?"
"Oh hell yeah me too dude.."

The two began writhing and patting themselves down in a frantic search for pen and paper.

"WHOOA!! DUUUUUDE CHECKIT MAN CHECK IT OUT LIKE DDDDAAAAAAAAAMMNN MAN!!!!"
"HOLY crap..wha...like the dude is blowing away man.."
"LIKE HE'S LIKE A HUMAN BONG HIT DUDE CHECK IT OUT!!"

Recursive couldn't help but turn to look as the boys gaping in near religious frenzy. Bulb's form was disintegrating, the sillhouette drifting away like smoke. The idiots had somehow warded it off, made the thing lose cohesion.

"Wow...I'll never doubt the power of belief again..."
"Hey babe can you hook us up with some tickets?"
"Yeah please! That would be so cool..maybe backstage passes.."
"Um you know, this is part of a contest. He's gonna show up again. The first 5 people that can find him walking around this area in 3 different locations get to go on tour with the band!"

"Wha??"
"For real??"
"Yes! Now hurry now, he's probably gonna show up again several blocks south of here. Keep your eyes out for him!"
"Right on! Let's go dude!"

The two ran off and Recursive continued walking. Soon a park came into view on the right. Children were playing on either side of the fence. She stopped by a little girl and leaned down to question her.

"Honey, do you know where I can play hopscotch?" The girl mumbled something and pointed farther off down the street. "Thanks sweetie."

Going with Shia.

PBs are actually pretty strong right now. The nove form moves fast and has a ridiculously long range attack that you can slot with procs and spam.

[ QUOTE ]
I think qualifying people who don't want to go digital as "Amish" is where we jump the proverbial shark, and where I bow out of the conversation as this little exchange is in danger of devolving into a serious flamewar.

[/ QUOTE ]

Oh cmon you're missing the point. You characterized the use of a specific tool as a "crutch." At least be fair about it.

[ QUOTE ]
If you [general you] cannot create your artwork without a battery backup, this is the very definition of a crutch.


[/ QUOTE ]

Actually, it's being prepared in case of emergency. I'm assuming your instructor used things like electric lighting while teaching the class? One could always go out and live on an Amish farm if avoiding the crutches of modern living was a priority.

I guess that one instructor has never heard of a battery backup?

The truth of the matter is that in the majority of commercial art fields, the benefits of doing things digitally far outweigh the drawbacks. It's not about "you suck if you don't do things digitally"; it's simply a matter of not having the skillset relevent to do the work the way they need it to be done.

Years and years ago I took one non-credit sculpture course where we sculpted a seashell. Several years later I started learning 3d modeling. Eventually I got into ZBrush and this is
the most recent thing I've done: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b92Bt0aJ7qA

The computer is just another medium. It's a perfectly viable place to develop skill.

[ QUOTE ]
I got to hear Andrew Jones speak at a conference last year. (Silly me didn't know who he was back then, and didn't bother to get an autograph.) He talked about his godson to make a point that children don't have preconceptions of what they can or cannot do. They just pick it up and start doing stuff without you expalining how it is supposed to be done.


[/ QUOTE ]

It's good to see Andrew Jones mentioned in the context of this discussion. Digital approaches are often seen as simple more convenient versions of traditional methods. Jones' approach is a good example of how digital technology allows workflows that are not possible through traditional means.

Bobbie I'd never take your black lines away from you, man.

If that's what you are into, great. I love Kirby's art and I am still in awe of someone like John Buscema who can maintain such a strong visual narrative.

But I'm into a lot of different kinds of art, fine art, concept art, graphic design, etc. and seen from a wider perspective, the orthodoxy concerning inking forwarded by some people in this thread is just silly and myopic.

If that's your preference, great.
If it's an industry standard, fine.
But if you're doing you own thing, it isn't necessary. Traditional comic inking is one approach to rendering. It has nothing to do with layout, composition, etc. and there are plenty of examples of books that didn't use it.

I think part of the problem here is that people are using this discussion to get on their high horse about the comics industry. I couldn't care less. My intent was to explain my point of view to someone who was questioning whether or not he should adopt that approach. I appologize if my initial comments came across as snobby or disdainful of classic comic art. I'm not like that, I enjoy comics and good traditional comic styles. But there are lots of other options.

LD,

[ QUOTE ]
Now things start to get a little confusing for me. Artworks missing the signature black outlines (thus having skipped or maybe painted on top of inking), such as that amazing Alex Ross cover, are not comic art in the strict sense of the term, but rather illustrations with fantasy/superhero theme.

[/ QUOTE ]

That's just really bizarre, refusing to regard Alex Ross' cover, or any cover, as comic art because it is executed in a way not permitted by the traditional industry approach. I would be amazed if any big wig at DC would hold that kind of bias.

There are examples of good comics that never involved the inking process. Dreadstar comes to mind. Dan Brereton's Nocturnals isn't done that way. I used to read Epic magazine when I was a kid and they'd run one shot stories that didn't involve pencil-ink-color.

Geek_Boy,
Do you even pay attention, at all, to what you're spewing here?

[ QUOTE ]
Oh, good grief. I proved you wrong about something. Comics are putting one image after another to tell a story or create an action/express a thought. It isn't limited to a rendering style or even a medium.
Line drawings of fantastical settings date back to cavemen. CAVEMEN. Are you saying cavemen were the first comic artists?

[/ QUOTE ]

By your definition, listed here, if any of those cave paintings were sequential, then those cavemen would be comic artists. Lots of other things are comics as well apparently. Like the instructions for building Spongebob's Lego playhouse.

Technically speaking, if the cavemen were drawing in order to more fully express an existing concept or narrative, they can be considered illustrators. And sequential illustrations certainly predate the concept of "comics."

[ QUOTE ]
I view your assertion that, what 80%(?) of comics are bad because STORYTELLING IS HARD as pretty laugh out loud stupid.

[/ QUOTE ]

[ QUOTE ]
That isn't what I said and you're being obtuse.

[/ QUOTE ]

This is what you said, it's pretty close:

[ QUOTE ]
While some of your other views are interesting, this is demonstrably false. If you want proof, pick up probably 70% or so of the comics on the market right now (probably 90+% during the peak of the 1990's X-TREME movement). Sure, the individual drawings aren't always that difficult, but putting those into a readable story is fricking hard and even the majority of the folks out there professionally doing comics still aren't all that good at it.

[/ QUOTE ]

Note that I said in some ways sequential art is easier to do. So you're "proving" me wrong by offering a subjective estimate of how many comics I should examine, followed by a subjective evaluation that the majority of comic artists still aren't all that good at it. Then the obvious conclusion that this sad state of afairs is because it's fricking hard.

Get a grip. You've got undergraduate academic nerdrage over some pretty straightforward comments that you think are clearly wrong, which may be debateable, but are clearly not worth having a pissing war over.

[ QUOTE ]
A message from MiniMedic "Re: Protector PvP SG on Test" indicating that he was late for pvp on test 'cus folks were pullin' monsters into the group during the hold phase of the Hami raid (the raid failed). "Some pvp would be nice for anger management. " This guy was a very good healer/buffer/player.

[/ QUOTE ]

That ain't no man baby!

[ QUOTE ]
You're not participating in a discussion so much as telling us how much cooler you are than we are. Us comics fans and aspirants should really go into oil painting/watercolor/whatever you've got a thing for if we want to be real artistes amirite?

[/ QUOTE ]

Actually, the OP asked a question about how people felt about inking and I was voicing my opinion. And in the process, responding to some other people. I honestly don't know what set you off in the process, but you really need to chill out and get over it. I didn't respond to some of your comments because I went to lunch and then Home Depot to pick up some lumber.

A lot of this discussion hinges on semantics and personal opinions. So if you think I'm ignorant for viewing comic book art is a subset of illustration, when it is clearly this mutant golden child that stands apart from other things, that's cool. I view your assertion that, what 80%(?) of comics are bad because STORYTELLING IS HARD as pretty laugh out loud stupid.


[ QUOTE ]
PS: I was only a few classes from being eligible for an art history minor and have thought about going back to school with that as my focus, so you really don't want to go there.

[/ QUOTE ]

That's friggin hilarious! If nothing else, this thread has provided a new type of internet tough guy: The "dont go there because I was a few classes short of an art history minor but i'm thinking of going back to do it" variety. If you go pick up some film classes too, you need it.

[ QUOTE ]
Film narrative/cinematography have some parallels but the key difference between those mediums and comic books is that comic books are not moving pictures and that presents a whole different set of challenges.

[/ QUOTE ]

Not really. Editing is based on shots--small segments of screen time filmed from different angles and distances. The shots are arranged to maintain and enhance narrative flow. Some directors will shoot improv and edit after the fact, but it's common for story board artists to to have the entire film storyboarded out, scene by scene and shot by shot. If these storyboards were more elaborate and had text--viola comic book. Not exactly the same, but not that far off either.

[ QUOTE ]
You stated your belief that the best comic artists are those who aspire to be like artists outside of the comic books. To me, that sounds like you're implying that comic art style doesn't quite measure up to some higher standard that you have in mind.

[/ QUOTE ]

Well first of all I don't feel that comic book art generally matches the quality of fine art or other illustration. Not because the artists are less skilled, but because of the constraints of the medium. Pace of production, quality of printing, etc.

Secondly, I think the best artists in any discipline bring in influences from other traditions to keep the discipline evolving.

[ QUOTE ]
While some of your other views are interesting, this is demonstrably false. If you want proof, pick up probably 70% or so of the comics on the market right now (probably 90+% during the peak of the 1990's X-TREME movement). Sure, the individual drawings aren't always that difficult, but putting those into a readable story is fricking hard and even the majority of the folks out there professionally doing comics still aren't all that good at it.

[/ QUOTE ]

That could be an indication of many things. Probably the only thing it demonstrates for sure is that publishing standards have dropped.

Is this good professional comic book art?

http://www.alexrossart.com/wallpapers/jla1_800.jpg

Note areas such as where the back of Superman's head ends and the background begins. No contour line there because the tonal variation creates an edge, which I discussed earlier.

[ QUOTE ]
If you just want to create pretty pictures, skipping the ink's is fine. But if you want to develop professional looking comic art, you gotta familiarize yourself with ink and get used to the 3 step process, cause you can be sure as hell the industry ain't gonna change for you.

[/ QUOTE ]

I don't have any interest in working in the industry. I like to do comic art art though, ie art with some sort of superhero or fantasy theme you might find in a comic book. I see plenty of this kind of art that is good and professional that doesn't involve comic style inking.

Comic book art is a subset of the illustration field. If you look at the field as a whole, "inking" is far from a defining feature. If you're goal is to work in the industry, then by all means develop your inking skill. If it is not, then by all means DO NOT get hung up on inking until you have mastered basic rendering of 3d form.

[ QUOTE ]
A great comic book artist can do both cover art and sequential art.

[/ QUOTE ]

Arbitrary definition. The industry obviously considers him a great and his covers sell books. And I disagree with this:

[ QUOTE ]
Composition for sequential art is much much more difficult than composition for a single image.

[/ QUOTE ]

In some ways composition for sequential art is easier, because you'r dealing with a lot of reaction shots, establishing shots, etc. Very familiar stuff to anyone who has studied film narrative/cinematography. If Hughes' sequential stuff is less awesome, it's most likely due to the fact he has less time to work on it.

[ QUOTE ]
Lots of comic book artists do work outside of the funny pages and it's a bit unfair to imply that comic book artists aren't Artists.

[/ QUOTE ]

I don't believe I said that anywhere. My point with regard to this thread is that the standard pencil-ink-color approach to doing comics is something that developed due to industry constraints.

If you like to do comic art and don't need to do it the industry way, you don't NEED to ink at all. And in a general artistic sense that's a good thing when you get into color work and the black lines will be problematic.

I don't really consider myself a comic artist, so maybe mine isn't a viewpoint you're looking for. But the whole process of drawing, inking, and coloring, whether done traditionally or digitally, is really an artifact of the comics industry where a product must be delivered quickly and a division of labor is part of that. Outside of that context, it's pretty meaningless and even something to be avoided.

The people I think are the best comic artists (ex. Adam Hughes) aspire to be like artists outside of comics. The best colorists I see get rid of the black lines by making them a tone and thereby converting them to edges . Real life has edges, where tonal divisions meet. It's doesn't have arbitrary black lines floating in space.

Black lines break depth in a picture, especially where its done badly. Classic examples you see a lot are when someone has a colored piece and decides to arbitrarily indicate ribs with a black line, instead of through shading. Or you see it a lot on cleavage. Instead of rendering the area where the breasts meet, they draw a black line there.

[ QUOTE ]
Pot, meet kettle.

[/ QUOTE ]

Ooooh dang, is it time for me to make a poll?

Nobody is asking him not to be an individual. They want him to be less of an [censored]. Or at least, take responsibility for his attitudes.

Socialization and adopting normative behavior isn't just about appeasing others. Do you pick you nose in front of your boss at work? Or maybe walk your dog in the nude?

[ QUOTE ]
Second, I have never seen you be offensive, in any place other then the one place that all protectorites should expect to be offended that being "Jello Shooters" Honestly the MOTD on the channel says what it says for a reason.

[/ QUOTE ]

Jello Shooters is a public channel that was set up for everyone to use. Being offensive and then hiding behind the MOTD is as stupid as him doing the same thing and hiding behind his Aspergers.

As far as I can tell, this guy spends an inordinate amount of time in online communities and eventually pisses people off with his relentless "attention-[censored]." He appeared to get a clue around last Christmas, when he posted his long goodbye post describing his internet problems.

But nope, he came back and situated himself on Protector. Now he's asking the disinterested forum community at large if he should stay, so that he can tell the naysayers to S T F U.
Some comments on Asperger's:

1. It's not an excuse to be an [censored].
2. People with the condition will often use it to manipulate other people to get sympathy, attention, etc.
3. It's true that Aspies seek interaction online, because they don't have to deal with all the nonverbal, social context stuff.

That's not a good thing. Online interaction is exactly what they don't need. It actually reinforces bad behavioral patterns and if things start to go south with people, as in this case, they just hop in to another community and repeat the same cycle.

If anyone either 1. can't stand this guy or 2. actually cares about his social development they should vote that he leaves the server, leaves the game, turns the computer off, shoves the cats off his lap, and drags his lazy [censored] out into the real world for some actual social interaction.

The Pitch


Dr. Proxy slid a thin black laptop and a thick silver cylindar out of the bag, laying them on the table in front of him. He rubbed his hands together, glancing at FD and Soft.

"Ok. Well, here's the deal. I want to take over the world. I've started with you guys as the core of a group to help me achieve this goal. I've extended my being far into the future, of this reality and others, in order to collect the information I need to take control."

"Why would I want to make you ruler of the world?" FD leaned back in the chair glaring. "I ain't serving nobody." Dr. Proxy laughed.

"I don't want to rule the world. I want to take control for a short period. Control all political and economic institutions. Once I've verified that the goal has been reached, I intend to move on to other things. I'm not here to provide guidance. I don't mean to gratify my ego by bending others to my will..."
"Then why bother?"
"Why do people bother to climb mountains? To see if it can be done. And as a stepping stone to other goals."
"How you gonna take over the world with 4 people? Where's your army?" Proxy laughed.

"Brute force is the weakest form of control. We don't need an army. But I need your talents in the right places and times in order to guide the process. If it works, I will be in complete control. And nobody will realize it. Or care if they do."

"This sounds stupid. Why am I going along with this?"

Dr. Proxy booted the computer and turned the screen to face FD. It was black for a moment and then a cartoon view of a car in a driveway appeared. It was a big blocky open-topped convertible with ridiculously oversized tires. A pixelated cartoon FD walked into view and hopped into the car smiling. There was a pause and then 3 long-legged beauty queens in bikinis and sashes appeared and hopped into the car as well. The cartoon FD smiled and the car started bouncing in place, the shocks pumping it up and down.

FD mumbled something incoherent, rubbing his jaw. Recursive groaned as the beauty queen in the passenger seat leaned down, her head disappearing from view. She reappeared a moment later holding a long white object, maybe a foot long relative to the size of the things on screen. The Cartoon FD took it and placed it to his lips as a dark haired beauty queen in the back leaned forward and lit the other end. Smoke gushed out of the huge joint as the car started bouncing again and the beauty queens smiled, their diamond tiaras sparkling.

"Awwww....maaaaan......"

The car started rolling forward, smoke gushing out of the joint and the tailpipe of the convertible. Strange people on the street cheered as it rolled by--a man in armor with a flaming skull for a head, a purple skinned blond in a long coat, strange armored freaks and skeletal creatures. Suddenly the car turned off the road and broke through a wooden fence. It rolled into a public park, running over picnic groups--blood spurting, limbs flying...

"Daaaamn, crap...it's sooo beautiful...that's the good life." FD turned the laptop around back towards Proxy, rubbing his eyes. "Stop it man I'm gonna cry.."

Proxy laughed and closed the screen. "You on board then?"
"Yeah, yeah..whatever."

"Me now now meeee!" Soft wriggled in her seat tapping her fingers frenetically on the table. "What is good good for meee?"


Proxy reached over and took Soft's left hand, pulling her arm forward and palm up on the table. "Stay still now." He then took the metal tube and unscrewed the top. He slowly placed the opening of the container on the middle of Soft's palm. There was a moment of silence, then a small white mouse gingerly slipped out of the tube, crawling on to Soft's wrist.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMeeee OOOOOOOOOOOHooooooooooohhhhhhhhh--oooooohh--OOOOOOOOOOOhh!!!!"
Soft's whole body quivered, the skin rippling as the little rodent crept up her forearm, licking the exposed areas of green skin. FD laughed.

"That's what she wants?!?"
"Yes indeed, now Soft if you would just hand the little mouse over fo.." With lightning speed Soft scooped up the mouse and shoved it whole inside her mouth. "No no no I'm not gonna take it away from you. Here look."

The doctor took a large plastic box out of the duffel and placed it on the table. He unscrewed a circular lid off of the top. "See? It's her house." Soft regurgitated the mouse and put it on top of the box. It crawled inside and went to a small square object in the corner. Recursive leaned forward, trying to make it out. The mouse began pushing small buttons on the object. A halting rendition of Mary Had a Little Lamb buzzed out of a speaker built into the base of the cage. Soft clutched the container, pressing her face against the side.

"OOOOooh....oooooooh.....ooooooh........."

Dr. Proxy smiled and lifted the bag, sliding away from the table. He started walking back towards the portal. Recursive rose and walked after him.

"What about me?"
"Hmmmmm?"
"What are you going to offer to get my help? What's the thing I want that's gonna make me help you?" Dr. Proxy laughed.
"Actually, I don't know. The immediate problem is keeping you alive. That's what the portal is for."

FD and Recursive followed him to the portal. He flipped some switches at the base of the platform and power began to hum inside the metal ring. He looked at them.

"So FD and Soft have both attacked Bulb, as well as a couple of heroes you encountered, correct?"
"Yes."
"So his power has increased considerably. In order to compensate, I am sending you to an alternate reality.."
"To run away?"
"Sadly no. He will follow you there immediately. Travel between dimensions is actually easier for the creature than physical movement in this world. He will locate you almost immediately."
"That sounds like a great plan then..."
"However, when he manifests in that reality he will be disoriented. I have here a list of things you have to do." He handed Recursive a folded sheet of paper. "By doing these things, you will blend with the other reality and temporarily throw him off. You need to do the list and it will lead you to a heavy hitter I have lined up to assist you."

Recursive looked over the list in disbelief. "Are you serious?"
"Yes! It's very important you do those things. Once you reach the contact, she will help you deal with Bulb."

She turned to FD. "You can't come with me can you?"
"No baby, sorry. I can't leave the city right now. But I got something for you." FD slid a dark, folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. He opened it up and set it flat on the platform. There was a circular diagram on the surface. He took a knife out of another pocket and sliced an opening in the surface of his right palm. He clenched his fist over the parchement, drops of blood dripping on to the surface, sparking as they hit the diagram which lit up with green fire. He pulled his fist back and grunted.

"YOU B*** A**** M********* G******* C********** DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!" He suddenly droped down, hurling his fist into the diagram. Recursive winced as she anticipated him punching through the platform, but instead his fist stopped on the symbol with a loud peal of thunder, the flames blinding for a moment. Then he stood up holding the parchment, which appeared to be blank once again. He folded it up and handed it to Recursive.

"Take this with you. Always keep it on you."
"What is it?"
"Jessica."
"You're giving me your loopy live-in spook girlfriend?" He laughed.
"No moron she ain't my girlfriend. And she's only like that when she's near me. If she appears and I'm not there, she's bad news man, you gotta be careful. She'll back you up if that [censored] Bulb shows up. But then you gotta tell her that FD promised to help you. You're under my protection--you gotta make that clear."

Recursive slid the paper into her pocket. "Thanks mang."
"No problemo."

She looked at Proxy and sighed. "I guess I'll get this over with." Proxy smiled and pressed some buttons on the side of the portal. A curtain of energy shimmered in the center. "Assuming I don't get killed, how am I gonna make it back here?"

"Don't worry, I'll be in touch. Good Luck!" She stepped through, every molecule of her body jerking out of place, exploding. The chaos of her sensations breaking through like a tongue touching a bug zapper.