Earlier today I learned that my favorite virtual destination for almost four years is closing this day. I don’t feel sad; I have great memories and lots of photos of this place. It’s one of the places I liked to make sure that new SL friends got to see. I also don’t really feel sad that MU is shutting down. I have good memories of it and it’s transformed me in some ways. Now it’s up to me to carry on and make the changes in my creativity that it’s inspired me to.I wouldn’t have gone to Roche today because I have a lot to do in real life and I knew there would be others there but I’d deleted the video clips I’d made of it when I first started learning machinima a little while ago. They came nowhere close to doing it justice. Even though I knew this day would arrive I thought I’d have a little more time to improve my skills and do a better job of capturing the beauty of Roche.
I uploaded my Newton Out of Context slideshow video. The avatar Newton is very photogenic and also quite interesting so I included some (out of context) quotes along with his images overlayed with destination and art images. Most of the art is mine; there are some drawings by Trilby Minotaur and RMarie Beedit too. I had the inspiration to do this and worked on it all of one Friday night about two weeks ago.
The above photo was taken at City Inside Out and Lost City. I blended both photos in Picmonkey, using one of them as an added texture. I watched a tutorial about it, which I’m not sure is available to users of the free version. It’s fairly simple to figure out; I just hadn’t ever thought of it.
Picmonkey is one of the few subscriptions I have of all the tools on the internet. (I’ve also purchased Fraps.) Contact me inworld if you have questions.
I’m simply not willing to use my mental bandwidth on things like Photoshop at this time and I’m not a snob about which applications I use. Like playing with glitch art last week, I gave myself a crash course in this double exposure technique. I used different settings than in the tutorial which may be more suited for real life photos.
Trilby Minotaur is one of the avatars in my new machinima. I photographed them in front of a white panel. So much of what I do is on the fly; I photographed snow on the ground in Eaton, on Sansara, for the texture.
I snapped still shots on location at LEA 20.
It takes, patience, luck, tweaking and a good eye for what you like.
I’m in the very beginning stages of learning machinima and this is something I can do now to help bring my vision to manifestation in my art.
I’ve learned more skills making a hassock and a path light. It might not make great furniture but I can make art pieces with what I learn. The hassock has a meditation animation and the script to make it work inside. It wouldn’t work for a while until I figured out that the cushion only needed the script and animation in the content tab. The light gives off a nice glow which I can use to make stuff.
There was another plant to make, which my awkward fingers had trouble dealing with before. But I did make a flexi prim.
I recall spending a lot of time and wasting money getting a plant texture when I tried unsuccessfully to recreate in Second Life a plant like I did in opensim. When looking at textures in the texture organizer that Oona gave me I noticed there were some available there. Well, there’s just way too much stuff to remember and figure out.
The supplies kits in opensim are on the Great Canadian Grid in Parkville, which is Chic Aeon’s place. The Pay It Forward Building School.
I think my skills will be used for sculpture hopefully.
Weeks and months had passed. The weather was hot and humid which made the stench around the zombies even more foul. The uninfected were miserable and bored. There was no real leadership among them, just a lot of talk and finger-pointing. It took too much energy to destroy the walking dead; they were ineffective anyway so a sort of tolerance had built up.
Lucia’s strategy was to avoid or outrun them and only fight in self-defense. She began to roam in gradually widening circles from her home in Stepford. Carrying a backpack which held a water bottle, hand mirror, sandwich, chips and a few old cell phones she headed out with a knife at her belt and one of her ex-husbands expensive golf clubs in her hand.
Whacking a zombie with the golf club was the last line of defense, one she rarely had to resort to. The second-to-last defense was to hold the mirror up to the zombie in question who usually became mesmerized with it’s reflection and began to make awkward grooming motions.
The old useless cell phones were very effective in occupying the poor creatures for hours as they would mimic movements buried in what was left of their synapses. They would gaze down at the device, poking at it with rotting fingers while making low grunting and moaning sounds.
Lucia wasn’t at all up for skateboarding but she was great on a bike, making day trips from Stepford to forage for supplies. She often stalked small groups of the afflicted since they were great at rooting out objects that were valuable to her new way of life. As with time and anything done often enough, she had fallen into a routine.
One balmy day in May, she’d been on an extended bike trip, rode over a steep ridge and found herself looking down at what appeared to be a small village. It looked odd and unusual. Before the catastrophe, she’d taken pride in being a world traveler and was also regarded as being knowledgeable of the region in which she lived.
The structures didn’t seem to have suffered much damage and there were no bodies laying about as far as she could tell. The afflicted woman she’d been following for days was bumping about before plopping down on the stool in front of an easel.
Lucia recognized her because she seemed more curious than most of the infected and because of the paint on her arms and around her mouth.
As Lucia watched, the creature dipped a bony hand into a small opened paint bucket and gathered a handful of the now viscous substance and brought it to her mouth which was soon covered with an azure color. Next she began roughly splattering blobs of paint onto the canvas panel in front of her.
Taking a long swig from the water bottle, Lucia looked around for any signage and noticed a small marker that said LEA 23. Nearby was a wooden post with worded arrows pointing in different directions. The names meant nothing to her.
She looked at the sky; she’d have to turn back soon if she was to make it home before dark.
Estelle slapped her hand at the stinging on the back of her damp neck. The humidity was awful and while the screen doors in the farmhouse were good, what with all the coming and going, some tiny, flying insects were bound to get in.
Letting out a deep sigh, she collapsed into the big chair, her mind drifting into the chronic ruminating on the state of her life. The life that wasn’t even close to the one of her dreams.
The house was quiet; the kitchen and dining room cleaned just to an acceptable standard and she was weary. She gave a slight shake of her head, quickly adjusted one of her hair curlers, and considered the amount of food the day laborers had put away. With their sun browned faces and tired eyes they’d eaten the noon meal on their best indoor manners. Heads bowed, they’d looked intently at the food on the plates in front of them instead of looking at Estelle.
All of them were useless. Still, she and her sister-in-law June were dependent on them to help keep the place running since Estelle’s husband Earl had gone missing the year before.
June, now she was annoying, relentlessly optimistic in the face of never ending work and the tedium of a small community. There was definitely something wrong with that girl, behaving as if every new day held the possibility of a grand adventure. If she kept up with the whistling and singing in the house, Estelle swore to herself she’d whack her upside the head with a rolling pin or skillet.
It had been much slower with Earl. What a waste that whole situation had been. He’d been so dashing in high school. Estelle hadn’t been much interested in boys; most of her attention had been on escaping here. She’d suspected she was destined to become a notable film star, spending any free time and cash she could acquire to sneak away to the local cinema in the afternoons. Earl had a nice car, easy-going nature and leading man good looks if you squinted just right. He made her laugh once upon a time.
They married just out of high school. He’d been just wild enough and she had him wrapped around her finger. He was supposed to help her get to California.
Then his mom and daddy were killed when a semi plowed into them and he was left in charge of the small farm. He refused to consider leaving June with all the work and within a summer began acting and looking like an old man. Estelle had become more frustrated and unhappy.
Life was then hopeless until Patty came back to town. Her dad had the local café, where Patty had worked behind the counter all through high school. She’d gotten out for a while, going to Hollywood and returning with grand tales, airs and a funny way of moving her hands while talking loudly.
Estelle pretended to believe the stories so she could mine her for information. She’d go to the café almost every other afternoon and walk out irritably if Patty wasn’t working. Otherwise, she’d sit at the counter and have a milk shake and they’d talk if it wasn’t too busy.
Soon the talk and complaining got old; they were both miserable. Patty began lowering her voice to a whisper and dropping hints about some old recipes her granny had, recipes that aided in taking care of some of life’s more stubborn problems. Over time a plan was hatched.
Earl just kept on working and smiled less. June kept whistling and singing. Then Earl began to weaken and have a grayish cast to his face. Then he disappeared one rainy weekend. Efforts were made to locate him but there were no leads and as life went grinding on the talk eventually turned to other things.
Things became worse for Estelle. Now she was expected to pitch in with even more of the work and she feared her pretty looks were fast fading. The cherry on top of all this was some nosy lady from Little Rock had been snooping around. She was at the café too often, always alone with no known business. A few people had told of rumors that she was a lady detective. Estelle didn’t believe that. She’d never heard of a lady detective.
She brushed at the bite on her left forearm and looked at the clock. June was late coming in from her afternoon break. She’d usually pour a glass of iced tea and bang away at the piano for half an hour or so. Where did she get all that energy, instead of wilting like a normal person?
Estelle stood and plodded out into the back yard to look for her sister-in-law. A flash of alarm jolted her as she saw June standing in the doorway of the cow shed. What had she needed to look for in there anyway? Estelle found herself unable to look away as June gazed at her with questioning eyes, the questioning mingled with mild hostility and suspicion.