#Draw real View

[keira-draws]

these are defective, anti-social...losers

[very-tired-child]

checkmate.

based on ch 5 of Primum non Nocere by @aughtpunk!!

[lancelotslair]

sorry gang ive been FIXATED on mister Hal Jordan, as evidence heres a thing i searched up

[rememberrysartz]

I feel like with Than disappearing this much in game this joke was begging to be made

[anominous-user]

is this something (2)

[joshuamj]

Linktober Day 8. Tunic

[cathalbravecog]

my first daily roller (and friends!) before april first ! who knows where hr waits before april anyway?

not guaranteed daily. originally intended for my main, but i do have a toontown blog for a reason so i'll use it. training myself to be okay with shittier art that just gets the point across without the need to be perfect as well. also this is an actual sc i took going into the farlands before my minecraft fucking bricked itself by being there

[digitalmaeri]

miku sven is SO CUTE and silly omg 😭😭😭 come see the miku movie with me sven!!!

HAHAHA he would be right there next to you.

He wouldn't understand the hype, but as long as you're happy- he's happy.

Let's be honest-

He'd probably spend the whole time looking at MC

[zukkaoru]

my controversial take re: bnha timeskip hero rankings is that there. shouldn’t be hero rankings at all anymore.

because see. this could fit SO perfectly with deku’s declaration going from “this is how i became the world’s greatest hero” to “this is how WE ALL became the world’s greatest hero”. no one is number 1, and so everyone is number 1 because everyone is a great hero in their own way. in the most recent rankings, deku isn’t even number 1, right? and yet. mha is “the story of how [he] became the world’s greatest hero”. the idea that you can be the world’s greatest hero in your own regard even when you aren’t number 1 is what society needs in the post-all might (and post-endeavor) world. if every hero can be the greatest at the same time, there is no singular number 1 hero who has to shoulder the weight of the entire world.

i also think this would actually be good for the bkdk perpetual competition because then there’s no Holy Word from above telling them who is “better”; they have to learn to discern that on their own. they can compete against each other forever without either one of them being handed the crown permanently or tilting society back towards the chaos left in the wake of all might’s retirement or, i don’t know, their competition clouding their vision and bringing forth new incorrect ideas about what a hero should be. you don’t become a hero for the competition or to prove your strength; you become a hero to help people. if hero rankings are reduced to the bakudeku fight for number 1, society is eventually going to end up right back where it was at the beginning of canon. someone like stain is going to stand up and say “this is not what being a hero is about” and they will be right, and it will create the perfect breeding ground for another rise in villain numbers.

like. can anyone hear me!!! all might’s reign as number 1 and his subsequent downfall were one of the igniting fires that spurred so much of the conflict in mha; why would we go back to hero rankings. why would we still have them. WASNT THE POINT. SUPPOSED TO BE. THAT HEROES SHOULDN’T DO IT FOR THE FAME. AND THE RESPONSIBILITY OF BEING “Number 1” IS TOO MUCH FOR ANY ONE PERSON TO HANDLE. i know horikoshi can’t see all the potential of his own manga but. please. guys. GUYS—

[ki1ldeer]

I think this will be my second to last redraw because I’m running low on energy juice lol so officially #3 of 4

And here’s the original not too cronchy but still cronchy

I made Emmeline in 2020 can you guys believe it it’s been nearly 5 years!! I was really into crosshatching in 2020 which is crazy because I’d never have the patience to do that now. And I was drawing on DRAWCAST which, despite being sold as an app for artists, had perhaps one of the worst drawing UI ever created. But there’s something nostalgic about it and how pixelated every piece would turn out. I mean I spent my entire teenage years on it, it shaped me as a person and I met some really cool art friends. Too bad Daniel Cota SUCKS and planned to revive it only as an NFT maker. Boooo. I’ll never return!

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

we were literally thinking yesterday "if the challenge has a pose like [pose we envisioned that looked surprisingly like this one] we've gotta make it Mello" and. well. didn't really expect it to happen let alone so soon!! but It Did!! so yay :3

[kingbeeleth]

vol if he a bunny rabbit

[numberonetribble]

Stuck at my mom's house until the 27th, can't finish the comic I was working on until then :( here's a rough Cowboy!pinup sketch of Bumblebee and some Breakbee + Piston angst:

[bobzora]

very low effort redraws

[chiropteracupola]

Bodies in my wake / Noose 'round my neck / I'm comin' back again / Better make it quick!

[northern-passage]

i've shared some of Alex Freed's narrative writing advice before and i recently read another article on his website that i really liked. particularly in branching/choice-based games, a lot of people often bring up the idea of the author "punishing" the player for certain choices. i agree that this is a thing that happens, but i disagree that it's always a bad thing. i think Freed makes a good case for it here.

...acting as the player’s judge (and jury, and executioner) is in some respects the primary job of a game’s developers. Moreover, surely all art emerges from the artist’s own experiences and worldview to convey a particular set of ideas. How does all that square with avoiding being judgmental?

[...]

Let’s first dispel–briefly–the idea that any game can avoid espousing a particular worldview or moral philosophy. Say we’re developing an open world action-adventure game set in a modern-day city. The player is able to engage any non-player character in combat at any time, and now we’re forced to determine what should occur if the player kills a civilian somewhere isolated and out of sight.

Most games either:

allow this heinous act and let the player character depart without further consequence, relying on the player’s own conscience to determine the morality of the situation.

immediately send police officers after the player character, despite the lack of any in-world way for the police to be aware of the crime.

But of course neither of these results is in any way realistic. The problems in the latter example are obvious, but no less substantial than in the former case where one must wonder:

Why don’t the police investigate the murder at a later date and track down the player then?

Why doesn’t the neighborhood change, knowing there’s a vicious murderer around who’s never been caught? Why aren’t there candlelight vigils and impromptu memorials?

Why doesn’t the victim’s son grow up to become Batman?

We construct our game worlds in a way that suits the genre and moral dimensions of the story we want to tell. There’s no right answer here, but the consequences we build into a game are inherently a judgment on the player’s actions. Attempting to simulate “reality” will always fail–we must instead build a caricature of truth that suggests a broader, more realized world. Declaring “in a modern city, murderous predators can escape any and all consequences” is as bold a statement on civilization and humanity as deciding “in the long run, vengeance and justice will always be served up by the victims of crime (metaphorically by means of a bat-costumed hero).”

Knowing that, what’s the world we want to build? What are the themes and moral compass points we use to align our game?

This is a relatively easy task when working with a licensed intellectual property. In Star Trek, we know that creativity, diplomacy, and compassion are privileged above all else, and that greed and prejudice always lead to a bad end. A Star Trek story in which the protagonist freely lies, cheats, and steals without any comeuppance probably stopped being a Star Trek story somewhere along the line. Game of Thrones, on the other hand, takes a more laissez-faire approach to personal morality while emphasizing the large-scale harm done by men and women who strive for power. (No one comes away from watching Game of Thrones believing that the titular “game” is a reasonable way to run a country.)

These core ideals should affect more than your game’s storytelling–they should dovetail with your gameplay loops and systems, as well. A Star Trek farming simulator might be a fun game, but using the franchise’s key ideals to guide narrative and mechanical choices probably won’t be useful. (“Maybe we reward the player for reaching an accord with the corn?”)

Know what principles drive your game world. You’re going to need that knowledge for everything that’s coming.

[...]

Teaching the player the thematic basics of your world shouldn’t be overly difficult–low-stakes choices, examples of your world and character arcs in a microcosm, gentle words of wisdom, obviously bad advice, and so forth can all help guide the player’s expectations. You can introduce theme in a game the way you would in any medium, so we won’t dwell on that here.

You can, of course, spend a great deal of time exploring the nuances of the moral philosophy of your game world across the course of the whole game. You’ll probably want to. So why is it so important to give the player the right idea from the start?

Because you need the player to buy into the kind of story that you’re telling. To some degree, this is true even in traditional, linear narratives: if I walk into a theater expecting the romcom stylings of The Taming of the Shrew and get Romeo and Juliet instead, I’m not going to be delighted by having my expectations subverted; I’m just going to be irritated.

When you give a player a measure of control over the narrative, the player’s expectations for a certain type of story become even stronger. We’ll discuss this more in the next two points, but don’t allow your player to shoot first and ask questions later in the aforementioned Star Trek game while naively expecting the story to applaud her rogue-ish cowboy ways. Interactive narrative is a collaborative process, and the player needs to be able to make an informed decision when she chooses to drive the story in a given direction. This is the pact between player and developer: “You show me how your world works, and I’ll invest myself in it to the best of my understanding.”

[...]

In order to determine the results of any given choice, you (that is, the game you’ve designed) must judge the actor according to the dictates (intended or implicit) of the game world and story. If you’re building a game inspired by 1940s comic book Crime Does Not Pay, then in your game world, crime should probably not pay.

But if you’ve set the player’s expectations correctly and made all paths narratively satisfying, then there can be no bad choices on the part of the player–only bad choices on the part of the player character which the player has decided to explore. The player is no more complicit in the (nonexistent) crimes of the player character than an author is complicit in the crimes of her characters. Therefore, there is no reason to attempt to punish or shame the player for “bad” decisions–the player made those decisions to explore the consequences with you, the designer. (Punishing the player character is just dandy, so long as it’s an engaging experience.)

[...]

It’s okay to explore difficult themes without offering up a “correct” answer. It’s okay to let players try out deeds and consequences and decide for themselves what it all means. But don’t forget that the game is rigged. [...]

Intentionally or not, a game judges and a game teaches. It shows, through a multiplicity of possibilities, what might happen if the player does X or Y, and the player learns the unseen rules that underlie your world. Embracing the didactic elements of your work doesn’t mean slapping the player’s wrist every time she’s wrong–it means building a game where the player can play and learn and experiment within the boundaries of the lesson.