Monday, December 9, 2013

Assassin

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Tried to emulate http://mar-93.deviantart.com/art/Knight-369030870 done HALF A YEAR AGO by a
classmate of mine (Marisa).
That lady sure can paint...
How she does it? I have no clue...
I need more practice.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Claire outfit redesign

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The semester is almost over, more free time to work on personal stuff!
Time to see if I've actually improved over the course.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Digipen Visual Comm Assignment


These are thumbnail 'sketches' done with pen and pencil on paper.
The size of each of the thumbnails are no bigger than the my palm of my hand.
 

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Now in colour!

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These are future ruins.


The lower populace dwelled in the sewers, knee deep in maggots. While the low-lives trudged over the corpses of their decaying brethren, the aristocrats lived in comfortable suites above, ignorant to the plight of this underworld.
As the world got more overpopulated, the demand for housing and basic human needs skyrocketed while the value of human life plummeted. The existing industries couldn’t keep up with the demand and soon, homeless crowds flooded the streets to the point where it was difficult to feel safe anywhere. The rich folk started paying premiums for these homeless to be evicted from the streets. The police who once protected the people were now shoving them into the gutters. It didn’t matter alive or dead, they used lethal force imprudently. To them, it was just another possible rapist or mugger they probably took care of.
Over the years, these dwellers of the underworld have grown sickly and thin. Each generation seemed to yield offspring with greater health problems and deformities. But this didn’t stop them from mating. The call of Mother Nature was as strong as it ever was in these people, and their incessant breeding only led to more problems.
The central aqueduct was the heart of this plagued underworld. It was home to a large bazaar which hosted a wide assortment of pilfered goods from the surface.  Many small gangs conducted frequent night raids on the surface. But they were severely underequipped to handle the arsenal of electric fences and other security devices that donned every store or home. Despite that, reports about muggings still managed to turn up in the papers from time to time. Fresh food and clean water was always in demand in the underworld and fetched outrageous prices. It wasn’t uncommon to see fathers selling their daughters into slavery and prostitution in exchange for a loaf of bread.

If the desire to mate was strong in these people, their stubborn attitude towards survival was equally stoic.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

My relationship with Chan Chun Man

My relationship with Chan Chun Man
“Chun Man? Ah a Chinese name, that’s going to be hard to remember.” It was a phrase I often heard.
My name is Chan Chun Man. I have two younger brothers; Chan Chun Yin, and Chan Chun Kit. I was never particularly concerned with the name my father bestowed upon me. However, I usually associate my name to be in the cesspool of other, for lack of a better word, ‘matching’ names. To further elaborate, other denizens of this cesspool that I’ve encountered over the years include my friend, Tai Jit Meng, and his brothers; Tai Jit Chen and Tai Jit Wei, and Goh Kah Meng, his brother; Goh Kah Yean, and his sister; Goh Kah Mun. I always wished that I was the offspring of a more creative and individualistic father, but alas, I was not so fortuitous.
I actually have a hypothetical girl name too. My mother told me that she had hoped to be blessed with three girls, and if I was born a girl, my name would have been Monique. She got the idea from a late French queen. Unfortunately for her, fate reared its cruel hand and left her with three boys instead. She often joked that I was fortunate to be born a boy, as I would have made for a very ugly looking girl based on my current features. She would go on to say that I would not be able to get a boyfriend and end up spending my days with her, single, touring the world or watching sappy movies at home. My mum had an untapped talent at concocting hypothetical insults. Unfortunately, my mum did not account for the possibility of having boys, and thus left the task of naming me and my brothers to my dad.
The problems of having such an abstract and uncreative name were diagnosed early in my childhood. When I was the age of 5, my uncle suggested an English name for me; Timothy. His motives were practical, he thought that ‘Timothy Chan’, in comparison to ‘Chan Chun Man’, was more memorable and made it easier for people to address me. My mother agreed that it rolled off the tongue better, and pitched the idea to me. However, at that time I was already very sentimental with ‘Chun Man’. It was a name that my mother and relatives affectionately called me by. The idea of getting used to an alien new name ‘Timothy’ was not a thought that my young mind wanted to entertain. And, thus, I violently rejected the name.
Eventually, I outgrew the love I once had for my name when I entered primary, and subsequently, secondary school. I started to develop a philosophy towards names in general. Being introduced to class index numbers and standard school uniforms, my peers and I were stripped of our identity, much like in the army or in prison. This made me realise the bleak truth that everyone was identical. My naivety that I was special was shattered, and I realised that names were just the alphabetical counterparts of index numbers, no different from a car’s licence plate or a criminal’s identification number. The only difference was that while index numbers were only confined to the classrooms, names operated globally. The fact that I felt no affection towards my name anymore made me see the truth more clearly. In the grand scheme of things, names held no more significance than labels or numbers.
It was not until I matured into a young adult when I started to view my name in a different light. I discovered that it could be used as a tool, a sort of social testing device. For instance, should a new friend or teacher be able to remember my incredibly bland yet abstract name, I would know that I’ve made an impactful first impression on them, for better or worse. This social device had other uses too. I found that I derived some secret, sadistic, joy in seeing people struggling to remember my name, squirming under the spotlight of my gaze while they snapped their fingers and squinted at the sky, as if looking to the clouds for help. Though, sooner or later, I would end their misery and just remind them of my name. It also served as an excellent excuse for when I could not remember other people’s names. Hypocritically enough, I am terrible at remembering names, even simple ones such as Douglas or Janice. It pays to have a difficult and abstract name, as I would rarely have to feel bad about forgetting names since most people would forget mine as well.
My friends over the years have asked if I ever thought about giving myself an English name. I did consider it, but it was buried at the bottom of my mental priority list. Eventually, the notion just eluded me. I suppose I never really felt the need to be easily remembered or easily recognised. And thus, Chan Chun Man just stuck with me, and it would probably be the name I take to my grave.


Saturday, September 14, 2013

The Evening Ball

Another short story for English class.
Stars Claire, Tomas and Elsie.
Enjoy.
Updates
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The Evening Ball
"This looks rather extravagant." Claire thought to herself as she eyed her attire for the evening.
The violet gown was draped elegantly over the mannequin, its sleeves and dress ended in large voluminous black frills and was laced with rich royal-purple highlights. She ran her fingers though the soft frills recalling the events that led to the present. Together with Elsie, Claire had pilfered a couple of dresses from the local boutique the night before. The means of acquisition devalued the dress in Claire's eyes. The notion that someone would spend half a thousand gold pieces on any article of clothing was lost on her.
She slipped her arms through the cool violet sleeves and fastened her bodice, and permitted herself to flirt with the reflection in the mirror. It was not often that she found herself in such fanciful attire. Satisfied, she tied her hair into a neat bun, and held it in place with a decorative gold pin. The inn she was in did not have particularly spacious rooms, but it was enough for her. She could hear the commotion going on in the next room; lots of loud booming laughter from Tomas, and some subtle grumbling she could only assume belonged to Elsie.
"Claire, are you finished? If I have to spend another minute with this moron, I'd gut him!" Elsie opened the door without waiting for a reply.
Elsie's gown was, in contrast to Claire's, much more vibrant. Her dress was scarlet red, while her bodice was a darker shade of magenta. Its frills were white and its laces gold. And as she stepped into the amber-lit room, her flaming auburn hair coupled with her scarlet silk dress almost seemed to beam with an aura as the light bounced off her. Claire had to stifle down a giggle, it was obvious that every minute the tomboyish ruffian had to spend in that frou-frou dress was torture.
“Let’s just get going.” Elsie groaned.
The journey was long. This in turn did nothing but wringed Elsie’s nerves. She had conducted, and even executed, smaller heists in the past but robbing the royal treasury was borderline insanity. But that just made it all the more gratifying. She twiddled her thumbs endlessly, barely able to contain her excitement, as the raptor-pulled carriage trudged along the dimly lit cobblestone streets.
Claire, however, was cool as a cucumber. She rested her chin on her fist and peered out the window of the carriage, her face faintly illuminated by the passing street lights.
"We’re here ladies." Tomas yelled from the front of the carriage as he tightened the reins and made the last turn towards Motretir Palace.
Roasted blood boars, smoked red-fin trouts, stewed raptor snouts and other exotic delicacies were laid out before the guests in the great hall of the Motretir Palace. Elsie almost wondered if the chefs had set fire to the local zoo to prepare the banquet.
The guests of aristocrats and self-important officials circled the grand dinner table like sharks, systematically taking turns to molest the buffet with spits and forks. Tomas wasted no time in joining the fray. Soon, his plate was piled high with food.
"You really should try some, girls. A chance like this won't come again!" He said as he sank his teeth into a succulent, gravy covered ostrich thigh, careful not to get any on his black swallow-tail coat.
Elsie covered her face and massaged her temples. "Please put that away," she said with a heavy sigh, "We need to be light on our feet for when we make our escape."
Claire nodded silently.
Tomas dropped his plate into the arms of an unfortunate servant boy and the trio delved deeper into the palace. They kept an arms length of each other and weaved through the crowd, careful to avoid suspicion. Fortunately for them, in lieu of the evening's events, many of the royal guards were concentrated around the courtyard and entrance, leaving only a handful of guards to watch over the restricted wings of the palace.
The trio broke from the crowd and proceeded down an empty hallway. And there, at the end of that hallway laid their goal. The only thing separating them was a lonesome guard and a large oak door. He wore the azure uniform of the royal Motretir army, with his rank of legionnaire proudly displayed on both sides of his broad shoulders. His arms rested on a gilded rapier which was neatly tucked into its sheath that hung from his waist.
Claire signaled to Elsie 'you're up'.
Elsie nodded reluctantly and proceeded down the hallway toward the guard.
"Oh dear, excuse me kind sir, I seem to have lost my way looking for the powder room. Would you be so kind as to escort me in the right way?" Elsie said as she looked up, doe-eyed, at the guard. It irked Elsie that she had to resort to such tactics, but she knew that she was the only one who was suited for the task. Certainly the mute girl, Claire, couldn’t do it.
"Sorry, Ma'am, but I cannot leave my post. The powder room is just down that corridor." he replied and gestured accordingly.
Elsie gasped, "My! Surely you don't expect me to go by my lonesome!” She paused and paced the marbled floor in a tight circle, gathering her thoughts. “I wonder what General Clayfield would have to say when I tell him a certain guard refused to escort the daughter of Tijar Solkavich to the powder room." It was a name Elsie had heard briefly in the murmurings of the crowd earlier and she hoped that the guard was more ignorant than he was duty-bound.
The beefy guard took off his cap and scratched his scalp. A tendril of sweat trickled down his brow as he pondered his worst case scenarios. Elsie bit her lip, if she couldn’t convince the guard to leave, it would severely complicate their plans for tonight.
Elsie’s lips parted on a soft, almost seductive, whisper, “Please, sir,” she paused, “it won’t take a second.”
Finally, the guard let out a sigh, and relented. Elsie did well to hide her exuberance, she couldn't wait to boast about this openly to Tomas and Claire.
Tomas and Claire hid in a corner as Elsie and the guard passed them. Once the coast was clear, the duo sprang toward the large oak doors. Claire pulled out her golden hairpin, allowing her long black hair to drape down the back of her neck and her shoulders, and started picking the locked door. Everything was going smoothly, but Tomas could not shake his paranoia that the guard would return at any minute.
"Are you almost done?" Tomas whispered impatiently to Claire, then pinched his eyebrows together as he realised rushing her wouldn't do any good.
Claire ignored Tomas's question. She was a professional and wouldn't let something like that distract her.
Before they knew it, the tumblers gave way to a loud, audible click. And with a concerted push, the towering oak doors creaked open. Tomas could not help but gasp, his mouth agape. The treasury was enormous, filled from front to end with glittering gold ornaments and streaks of rainbow coloured gems. It was so densely packed that there was no comfortable way to maneuver around the room. But Claire was already climbing over the mountains of gilded goods, knocking over treasure boxes, spilling coins and toppling antiques. She knew what she was after, and she had to get it before the guard returned. Tomas on the other hand, was stuffing his pockets with whatever he could find.
Eventually, after much searching, Claire turned towards Tomas and held aloft a golden amulet, in its core was a large purple crystal.
“The royal amulet of the late King Avoir.” Tomas muttered under his breath. “You actually found it! This amulet alone is going to make us rich!”
“I’m sorry milady! With all due respect, I must return to my post!” The words struck Tomas and Claire like a bolt of lightning. Round the distant corner, at the far end of the corridor, they could see the shadow of the guard growing as he approached bend towards the room.
The duo fled through the oak doors, there was no time for subtlety. As the guard turned the bend, he was knocked down by the two renegades.
“E! It’s time to go!” Tomas roared, mindful not to reveal Elsie’s name to the guard who was sprawled on the floor.
The trio headed towards the crowd, back towards the ballroom. Claire led the way, pushing and shoving her way through the volume of pompous rich folk while Tomas and Elsie followed closely behind. Men were cursing, women were shrieking, it was chaos.
As the guard picked himself up, he was greeted with an unlocked treasury room. He stood there, frozen.
Finally, the dusty cogs in his brain started to turn, “T-T-Thieves!” He stammered, “Thieves! Stop them!” he yelled over the cries of the crowd as he stumbled towards them.
His fellow guards echoed his cry and sounded the alarms. As the blaring sirens filled the large hall, guards started pouring into the ballroom from the outer courtyard and their other station points.
“What do we do now?” Elsie asked frantically. Her mind was scrambled and she couldn’t concentrate long enough to formulate a plan.
Claire gave her a hard nudge and pointed to the balcony. They were on the second floor and it was a 5 metre drop to the ground. They hurried towards it, the crowds dispersing wherever they went.

Elsie whistled for the raptors, and as they came round the side of the palace, pulling their carriage, the trio leapt from the balcony and landed on the roof of it. Some of the more stalwart guards jumped after them while the others ran downstairs in hot pursuit. But it was too late, before the guards could gather themselves, the trio had already made it past the courtyard and were riding off on their carriage into the foggy streets. 

A Meal Between Accomplices

A short story starring Tomas and Elsie.
Original characters by moi, hur hur, tophatmonoclesipteawithpinkyextended.
Enjoy
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A Meal Between Accomplices
Tomas licked clean the fish bones and tossed the remains into the fire.
The camp-fire danced in the salty night breeze. Tomas stoked the flame with a long withered branch and sat down on the large leafy mats that he and Elsie prepared earlier. As he sat there watching the sparks of the camp-fire flutter about in the breeze, he realised just how weary he was. His joints ached and his limbs felt numb as the fatigue took its toll.
Tomas glanced past the camp-fire, surely his companion must be as exhausted as he was, if not more. But Elsie did not wear the face of tiredness, she looked more lost in thought as she stared at the base of the camp-fire.
Tomas cleared his throat, "Do you ever think of home?" he enquired as he warmed his palms near the bonfire, hoping to distract Elsie from their bleak predicament.
Elsie returned with a slightly startled look, then softened, permitting Tomas to feel emphatic towards her.
"Perhaps sometimes," she replied curtly. "I was orphaned before I could even remember. Many of my friends and loved ones have went their separate ways, and so have I. Even if I did return 'home'-" she said with a pause, "-there wouldn't be anyone waiting for me."
"Ah, but I'd probably return to the Silent Snails' Inn back in Capades after this ordeal is over," she added as she noticed Tomas fumbling for an adequate reply. "I could certainly picture myself sharing stories with ol' Buford over a mug of cool Brownsdell brand ale..." She paused, she knew that she could never return now that she had a bounty on her head. She sighed quietly at the thought. "What about you? Do you miss your home?"
"I miss having a warm bed to sleep in," Tomas quaintly replied. "Aside from that, I can't say that I really miss the monastery."
"Don't you have family or friends you'd like to see again?" Elsie asked as she leaned forward and hugged her knees.
"No, can't say that I do. My only family is my dad, who has long given up on me. The monks don't take too kindly to me either, and in all honesty, I jumped at the chance to get away from there."
Elsie was, in truth, rather curious about Tomas's past, but whatever curiosity she had, she hid behind an expression of indifference and let out an audible sigh. She would rather endure her irritation of curiosity than pick at a possibly touchy issue.
"We'd best get some sleep," Tomas said as he prepared to snuff out the camp-fire. "It's been a long day and tomorrow holds no promises of improvement."
Elsie picked herself up, the weight of her own limbs was made perfectly, and painfully, aware to her. She dragged herself to one of the makeshift tents made from thick branches and leaves as the bright orange hue vanished behind her with a loud and audible hiss.

"Indeed," was all she managed to say before she disappeared into the darkness of her tent.

Jessica story, extended

An extended version of the previous story I posted, for English class
It's about Jessica again.
Enjoy
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Another 7 minutes and I'll be done, I thought to myself.
It was the same every weekday morning. I'd come to camp shrouded in an aura of detest, eager to be done with another day of my two-year sentence. Like a pre-programmed automaton, I had changed into my exercise attire and hit the gym. With a lack of mental stimulus, it seems that even bookworms such as myself would turn to exercise to reduce the humdrum of our days in the army. Whoever made that observation that brains and brawn were inversely related was spot on.
The treadmill beeped, 2 more minutes, 'now starting cool down'. The pace slowed gradually and the weight of my legs were made painfully aware to me. I reached for my sweat towel, and that was when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that distinct face; an unmistakable face that haunted my boyhood.
"Jessica?" I blurted out in astonishment.
I had to do a double take to ensure that my brain wasn't filling my head with boyish fantasies.
"Ah! Chun Man!" came the reply. A sweet melodious voice in a place I'd least expect to hear it from, and she was calling my name to boot!
"What are you doing here?" I enquired almost instinctively.
"Oh, I'm here on my internship," She replied curtly, as though she had already anticipated the question.
"Your university internship?" I probed further.
"Yes."
"What are you studying?"
"Sports research and management."
It was then when I remembered how it was like talking to Jessica all those years ago. She was, and still is, quite a unique individual because she seems devoid of all basic human courtesies, at least when it came to holding a conversation or being friendly.
Jessica and I have an odd history. My miserable love tale began when I was 11, turning 12. I was in primary 6 and was hitting that awkward age of adolescence. It was during that time when I, like many other boys that age, started to realise that girls smelled nice, looked pretty, and were incredibly challenging to approach. In particular, there was this girl, Jessica, who had an air of superiority about her and stood out amongst the rest. I remember speaking to her briefly during my time as an 11 year old. I was struggling to form the simplest of sentences in front of her, so I mostly feigned the need to borrow a pencil or some other form of stationary. Returning said borrowed object only gave me another chance to talk to her, which was enough to satisfy my pathetic 11 year old brain. It was a fleeting crush which I expected to end when we moved on to secondary school. I didn’t think much of Jessica afterwards; much of my attention back then was directed at choosing schools. My mom, school teachers and tuition teachers expected me to get into St Joseph’s Institution, where I fell short of the mark by a mere 4 points. I wasn’t too upset about it, while my mom was discussing future schools and education paths with my teachers, I was plotting to ruin it all by choosing a neighborhood school so I could be with my guy friends, my bros, my esses, my comrades and compadres.
And that is how I got into Chua Chu Kang Secondary School (CCKSS). Oddly enough, none of my friends, for whom I sacrificed a chance at a better school, even made it into CCKSS. On my first day of school, I was thrown into a school of strangers. I remember being shown around as part of an orientation programme. Whilst in our neat rows of twos, my class passed by another class in a narrow corridor. And in an instant, I caught a fleeting glimpse of her face as she passed me. I turned around to take a second look, but it was too late, she was lost in the crowd of unfamiliar faces. I was as shocked back then as I was now. I honestly thought that I was seeing things. It wasn’t until the next day, in the morning at the parade square, when I saw her sitting by her lonesome, that I actually believed I wasn’t delusional. I truly felt blessed that I fell short of St Joseph’s Institution by a hair’s width. As kids, both of us, I assumed, were uncomfortable talking with beings of the opposite gender. Our conversations were short and fragmented.
I’d start with, “Hi.”
She’d reply with, “Oh, hi.”
“I can’t believe you’re in this school too!”
“Yeah.”
“Cool, alright! Um, bye!”
And that was it. I would walk back to my class awkwardly without much of a conversation closer. From that moment onwards this coincidental incident would forever be stenciled in my prepubescent brain as ‘fated’. Later, I learnt that she lived 2 blocks down the road from my house, further cementing the aforementioned notion of fate. I truly believed we were meant for each other.
Semesters went by, as did the years, and at that point I was getting rather good grades and was living a life of semi-luxury. I was living in a terrace house and boasted many other luxuries, and even though I didn’t flaunt them superficially, I was spoilt rotten. I even found myself a girlfriend. Her name was Cheryl. And even though I dated her for 6 months, which was incredibly long for a kid, I still fancied Jessica. I still remember the night when I confessed my feelings to Jessica; she turned me down. This was the period of time when Jessica and I were in the same class and despite my best efforts, she never warmed up to me, and that just made me fall for her even more. She said that she wanted to wait until after the O levels were over to consider a relationship, and so I waited. For Jessica, I would’ve slain twenty men, climbed Everest, and offer their bodies on a pike on its summit as some sort of ritualistic sacrifice for her as my goddess, all whilst dating another girl. Call me a cheat, a scumbag, but that was what I was. I even dated two other girls after Cheryl before I hit 16 and the prophesied date of the O levels had arrived. Needless to say, my young, scandalous ways didn’t help to help win any favours of my goddess before judgment day.
After O levels, I felt like a free man. I did relatively well for the examinations, and was rather pleased with my results. Jessica and I would split paths for the first time in our lives. She was going to Catholic Junior College, while I was going to Ngee Ann Polytechnic to study Banking and Financial services. There was no way I was going to shackle myself to another 2 years of pointless learning in Junior College. Ironically, should I have chosen to enter into a Junior College, based on my grades, I would’ve chosen Catholic Junior College too. At that point in my life, I had many things awaiting me; a fully stocked inventory of computer games which I had forsworn before the O levels, a new school with new exciting learning opportunities, but most crucial of all, was the long awaited verdict of Jessica’s decision.
She ignored me, and dated some other guy.
I was devastated. Comparatively, I was richer, taller, and I waited longer than the boy she was dating. It was absurd to my 16 year old mind that she would pick him over me. I felt like I was living the villain in those stereotypical love comedies where the lead girl makes off with the less refined, less wealthy, and less handsome chap at the end of the movie. I couldn’t accept it.
Looking back now, it’s no wonder I was rejected, after all I was courting Jessica whilst dating three other girls. However, this incident really hit me hard. I’ve been rejected many times over in the past by many different girls, but I never grieved like I did then. All the notions I had of fate and intertwined destinies were shattered, and this would mark the beginning of my long, painful metamorphosis.
The feeling of melancholy lasted well into my years in Polytechnic. I was alone, and found myself more comfortable the further I was from other people. Many of my classmates tried to befriend me, but eventually, they got the hint that I preferred to be alone. I ate my lunches alone, studied alone, and attended classes alone. I drew my fortitude and forged my emotional independence from prolonged isolation. Perhaps it was a form of subconscious atonement or self-inflicted punishment for my past misdeeds.  Like a man possessed, I lived out the rest of my Polytechnic days as an emotionless zombie. I tried courting a few girls in Polytechnic, but to no avail. Not surprisingly, their rejections did not affect my in the least. During that time I looked back on my actions as a boy and found myself truly remorseful. It was at that point where I strove to become a better person. I still fancied Jessica, but I was slowly learning to let go.
After a good 3 to 4 years, I was finally over Jessica, or so I thought. It was as though the dense fog of emotional despair had finally lifted, only to be replaced by physical torment and pain. I enlisted in the army.
I remember how I spent my last days of freedom. I ate heavily and played World of Warcraft from dawn to dusk. There was no way anyone was going to convince me to prolong my two year sentence by exercising and training before I even enlisted. I had two years to torture myself with physical exercise, why would I exercise to prepare for it? Would a prisoner who knew he was going to get tortured purposely rake his flesh and gouge his eyes in preparation for the torture chamber? They were mad!
Thus, when I was enlisted, they threw me into the obese batch. Eventually, I was marked as ‘unfit for combat’ and assigned to do clerical work. Oddly enough, after assuming the role of a monotonous office drone for a year, I found myself making routine visits to the camp’s gym. It was there where I lost most of the fat I accumulated throughout the years, like shears to a sheep. This brings us back to the present.
It has been 5 to 6 years since I’ve said a word to Jessica, and now she was here, on the treadmill next to mine, in my army camp. It was like being served the richest prime ribs at a vegan convention. The odds against me were astounding, yet there she was. If I were a more superstitious person, I'd be inclined to believe that we were meant for each other. It was as though some omnipotent being enjoyed leading me astray with a series of highly coincidental events.
"So, perhaps we should meet up later for lunch?" I asked, seeing that she had started up the treadmill and probably didn’t favour holding long conversations in between panted breaths.
Jessica returned with a rather questionable look, one that I could only describe as the look of disgust. "I think it would be better if we didn't. It's only my first week here and I'd prefer to have lunch with my colleagues and superiors first."
"Ah, of course, I understand. Perhaps some other time then." I said as I nodded in agreement.
Days turned to weeks, and weeks into months. Our encounter in the gym had reignited the flames of passion and love inside me, and it took every ounce of my mental fortitude to smother and tame that fire. Life in the army was so straightforward and simple before she showed up, I honestly had a hard time wondering if this was considered fortuitous or unfortunate event. Occasionally, I would throw out the question to have lunch together but she always refused, usually quoting some sort of excuse until finally, she just resorted to ignoring my messages. Eventually, any revitalised enthusiasm was quite quickly drowned out. Under any normal circumstances, most people would like to catch up with an old classmate, but Jessica wasn't 'most people'.
After awhile, I took the hint. She didn’t want to associate with me, not even on a friendly level. I do not blame her, neither of us asked for this crazy meeting. I my life quickly resumed its normality, and before I knew it, my service to my nation was complete. Our paths split again, and perhaps it may intersect again sometime in the future.
Even now, I still wonder what it is I see in Jessica. There will always be a place in my heart with her name on it as she was the girl I lusted for the most, to the point of unhealthy obsessions. As one of my friends quaintly put, 'Your first love always seems to be the most pure because it was before you looked at girls for things like sex." I was denied minor things before in my life, but never something I craved for so dearly.
Her special brand of aggressive ignoring changed me as a person. It was a painful metamorphosis, and I was pulled back down to earth. And when I finally emerged from my cocoon of melancholy, I found myself to be a more rational and humble person.
There are times when I reminisce about these past events and wonder how I would've turned out if she did agree to date me. I shudder to think of myself turning out like some of the punks that flaunt their shallowness and arrogance on Facebook or Twitter; strutting around in overdone spray-on tan, exhibiting their poor fashion sense with popped collars and shutter shades, holding up their hands in odd gang signs as though they’re suffering from severe arthritis.
Perhaps that might be an exaggeration, but it is undeniable to me, that Jessica was a pivotal person in my life, and try as I may, I will never be able to forget her.



Hades

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Was actually just testing out but got a little carried away.
Supposed to be a statue of Hades, but looks more like it's for Poseidon.

For a school assignment thing.
It's so embarrassingly bad I don't even want to post it here.

Kk to clarify, the reason for water is because the Greeks believed that the underworld, was a literal underground world. They believed that the souls of the dead passed through into the underworld by rivers.
Namely the 5 rivers:
Acheron - The river of woe
Lethe - Forgetfulness
Cocytus - Lamentation
Phlegethon - River of flames / fire
Styx - Hatred

Styx being the largest central river that separated the land of the living from the dead, and Charon has to ferry the souls over the river to get to the underworld yada-yada you know the story.

I tried to do that 5 rivers thing, and initially wanted a carving on the wall that illustrated Charon ferrying lost souls toward the statue of Hades.

But fuck it, I got lazy.


Also, Hades was never really portrayed as evil in any of the Greek myths. Naturally, pop culture has to associate everything that relates to death with evil, like the Grim Reaper, Hades, whatever. There was never really an evil "death god" until Christianity came along and said "K Lucifer, devil, ruler of hell. Eternal suffering and all that." And then everyone just assumed all rulers of the underworld are evil.

Christianity has that very black and white God is good, Lucifer is bad. But many of the gods that came before like the Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Norse gods were all different shades of grey, none were 'absolute good'. Even Zeus, and ESPECIALLY Zeus actually seems more evil than Hades in greek mythology. At least, by today's standards.

I tried to give Hades a more peaceful and respectful setting. While doing this I've actually seen a lot of other people's take on Hades and it's rather sad that some of them have him horribly twisted, on a throne, in a sea of fire.

Come on guys, not every ruler of the underworld has to look like Lucifer and not every underworld has to look like hell.


Wednesday, September 11, 2013

MORE DOODLES OAIFNODINVSD)VNEOIENG)ENRIO#NR#)(GEg09GJ)N$i

Image and video hosting by TinyPic Had an urge to draw something.
So there, did it in like 5 minutes, just to cure the urge.
Claire Alianor, an original character. Hur hur, top hat, monocle and all that.

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What possessed me to draw this? Idk
It was quite some time ago, completely forgot about it, might as well post it.
I think it was after that whole Touhou piece.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Values practice WIP

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WIP

Okay, now I just have to figure out how to colour it without losing the tonal values...

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Skullgirls doodle

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Very rough, please pardon.
Too busy playing Skullgirls.

Monday, July 22, 2013

Practice

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It's gonna get worse before it gets better.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Eluded

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FULL SIZE:
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Eluded
*Tomas shopping for nonsense*
Tomas: "Look Elsie! A Giant Tiger-Snail hat!"
*Walks up to Elsie wearing a snail hat*
Elsie: "Very amusing. Look we can't- YOU can't keep spending money on frivolous things. After getting the tickets (to the outer rim) I'm seriously concerned if you have enough to repay me."
Tomas: "Oh don't worry yourself. Once we get there, you'll realise the reward was the journey itself all along and the friendships you've made along the way!"
Elsie *glare*
Tomas: "Sigh, you need to loosen up. Look, don't worry about the payment, the monks at the Monastries will reward you handsomely for helping one of their own. I guarantee it."
Elsie: "I hope for your sake you're right."
*dong* (Clock tower bells)
*Tomas and Elsie look up*
Elsie: "We'd best be going. The next ship to the outer rim is 2 weeks-"
*CAW*
*Tomas and Elsie turn to see a small black bird*
-Silence-
Elsie: "There's something strange about that bird..."
*Elsie notices an anklet around the bird's leg*
-Zoom in on Omen Insignia-
*CAW*
Elsie: "Oh... no..."
*A thrown knife narrowly misses Elsie, striking the ground*
Tomas: "Wha?"
Elsie: "RUN!"
*The duo sprint for the docks, Tomas drops his snail hat.*
*Weaving through the alleyways, the two desperately try to shake off their assailant whilst dodging the barrage of attacks*
*The assassin was fast, jumping off rooftops and beams, she always managed to intercept the duo*
*Elsie and Tomas had a few brief skirmishes with the assassin*
*Clash!*
*Elsie and the assassin lock blades*
Tomas: "We can't outrun her, we have to split up, she cant chase us both! Meet at the docks!"
Elsie: "Wai-"
*Tomas runs off*
Elsie: "-t..."
*shink* *With a quick action, the assassin's blades unfold out into scythes*
*Trips Elsie on the leg during her moment of distraction*
*Brings the other scythe down on Elsie*
*She instictively turns to dodge it, and the blade cuts into her shoulder and the ground below her.*
*The assassin pulls the bloodied blade out of the ground and stands over Elsie*
Elsie: "unnnhh..."
*Elsie, sits up, clutching her bleeding shoulder*
*lock* *combines sword at the pommel*
Assassin / Claire glares down at Elsie.
*Brings both arms up to guard her face* (Not wearing her armguard)
*Brings down the blade to strike*
*Deflected by Tomas' staff* *another strike at Claire's ankle knocks her to the ground*
*Shocked, Elsie looks up*
Tomas: "Hurry! Let's go!"
*the duo get up and run*
*They run through a darkened alleyway, to be greeted with a sunrise at the docks.*
*The ship is slowly departing from the docks*
Tomas: "Come on! We can make it!"
*Claire sprints towards the two who are frantically shoving and pushing people aside. Claire weaves through the crowd effortlessly.*
*The two jump off the pier, catching the railing of the ship.*
*The chase ends with a loud THUK of a throwing knife narrowly missing Elsie and hitting the wall of the ship*
*After climbing onto the ship, the two fall to the ground exhausted, panting*
Tomas: "Who was that!?"
Elsie: "I... *huff* I don't know."
Tomas: "I thought she was after the gem, but, *pant*, CLEARLY, she was after YOU."
Elsie: "I know, I know, urrnh!"
*Elsie stands up, clutching her wound, a large crimson stain now covers her right shoulder.*
Tomas: "We'd worry about that later... First, we have to get that wound wrapped up."
*The two retreat into the cabins*
-Zoom in on the Omen insignia on the throwing knive on the ship's wall-
-Fade to Claire's Omen insignia on her back, staring out at the sunrise while the ship leaves with her target-

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Saturday, May 18, 2013

FA Caitlin

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Full art Caitlin
FANART Pokemon card
Photoshop, couple of hours

EDIT: Enlarged words, and darkened borders

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

WIP NO LONGER!

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Still incomplete, but getting there...

 Edit: completed over the span of 3-4 weeks, whilst seeking advice, or OFFICIAL INSTRUCTION if you will, from my night class tutor; Marcwashere -Deviantart.

I wont pretend that I'm happy with the final result, but I have learnt a lot while working on this.
I still have a long, long way to go.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Major Dickhead

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What could have possessed me to create such a character?
Stay tuned for the mature, gritty, nail biting adventures of Major Dickhead as he peels back the human mind and explores the innate psychology and fear which drives us.

Done in like... 20 minutes...

Claire Leap (Incomplete)

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Distractions distractions.
Unfinished, WIP, whatever.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Touhou Commission

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Commission.

First attempt at drawing anime seriously.

Edit: fixed some stuff

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Commissions

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN AGAIN!

I'll be taking requests, each request should be sent to www.hipposux@hotmail.com
You will receive a reply from me telling you your request has been accepted.

Please indicate the type of commission you desire, also it would help if you sent me a reference photo/picture of the person/character you want me to draw.
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Prices are not fixed, and will vary based on your request.
Full payment should be made upon my acceptance of your request.
I accept payment through cash, paypal, bank transfer, or cheque.
Details will be given through email.

I reserve the right to cancel any ongoing commissions due to any unforeseen circumstances, however, a FULL refund will be given.
Commissions will take anywhere between a day to a week due to my national service.
I will send an update should I exceed a week, informing you of the progress.

Please note that these commissions are only for personal use, image rights will belong to me unless otherwise stated in writing.
(Character design will still belong to the respective owners, only the image created belongs to me.)

Sunday, April 7, 2013

unfinished

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Tomas' face, maybe

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Look's a lot like commander shepard, it's probably just the hair (or lack thereof) but I swear I never even
used him as a reference.

It might be a little too good looking for Tomas, but I realised it is kind of unfair that I pretty up the women
but feel like a guy that's too handsome is a little unrealistic.

Anyway, it's a test, and I'll continue to play with it.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

caves and stuff

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Boy was this interesting.
Obviously this isn't finished, but I doubt I'd finish it anyway.
I need to learn how to paint cave/rocky walls.


UPDATE:
Well who would've thought I'd actually further it.
See below!

It's still not perfect, but it was a good learning experience.

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Saturday, March 9, 2013

Image and video hosting by TinyPic Wont finish it. I realised the pose I chose isnt very good.
The head and horns are blocking a lot of detail on Claire (the lady on the back).
Posted as a "lesson learnt" or "reminder" sort of deal.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

DOODLES

Image and video hosting by TinyPic Yeah! I've always wanted to play as a fat asian chick!
I've never seen such specific stereotyping since the original power rangers. Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Tomas and Elsie, pass by Bradwood Retreat to stock up on supplies before carrying on to the capital.

The town is quiet, people peek out their windows, nervous and wary of the two strangers. The only place open is the inn and even then it's almost empty. The Innkeeper tells the story of the abductions that happen at night. Every new moon, during the darkest night, men have gone missing from the village.

Townsfolk are distrusting of strangers and even each other.

Innkeeper: "There's no sound. No one ever screamed for help or made any noise in the night. It's a real mystery. The abductions happen on the darkest of nights, people just go missing without a trace."

Elsie: "I dont understand, why dont you people stand guard?"

Innkeeper: "Before they fled, the guards patrolled the woods and marshes for the missing men but always came up empty."
"Soon, even the guardsmen started going missing. Nobody knows where the men are taken or who or what is behind it."

Tomas: "Why havent you fled the village?"

Innkeeper: "I'm too old. These forests are dense, thick. What makes it worse is the constant mist from the swamp. There's no way I'd survive a trek to the capital. Nope, I feel much safer here. That's what most of the folks here feel as well. Barracade their doors and sleep in fear, but people still get taken."

Tomas: "Well, that really isnt a solution then is it?"

Innkeeper: "I suppose not, but better a few go missing than a whole village dying in the woods. As for me, I'm old, I've seen enough, if it's my time to depart then I'll embrace it wholly."

-Tomas and Elsie shoot doubtful glances at each other-

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Quick portrait practice

Image and video hosting by TinyPic Been awhile since I did some portrait practices. Finished in about... idk, 15 - 20mins. No tracing. Previous practices: Portrait practices 2011 and Face trace practice 2010