The Important Shit Name: Adam
Location: Austin, TX
Steam Name: pointingdevice
Xbox Live: PointingDevice - Currently defunct!
General Information -----
Adam "PointingDevice" McWaters was birthed July of 1979, in a sleepy military fortress in the hill-lands of Texas. At the time, this area was referred to by the locals as, "flavor country," however 2-6 years after his birth, "flavor country" was relocated to west Texas/Arizona/New Mexico.
Point is, that summer was hot as fuck.
Due to the extreme heat, Adam was taken almost immediately to the happy-go-lucky country of Germany, where he was protected from the terrible sun by a constant layer of gloom and cold. He would be 2 years of age before he would ever experience the fiery orb directly. This experience would not go well, and would further complicate life for Adam in the future, many times.
After 9 or so years under the gray skies of Deutschland, selling real Levi's to the unfortunate locals who had to deal with Turkish knock-off brands, Adam would find himself and his meager earnings in arcades across the land. In these dark secluded caves, the boy would learn that these machines were his true parents. These had cruely birthed him, stoic, into this world from whatever hideous canal or cantrip. He didn't know which one was his actual parent, per se, but it was probably a shmup of some sort, since he beat so much ass at those.
Or a Neo-Geo multigame cabinet. It's still really up in the air at this point.
Upon arriving back in Texas, he was delighted to find that arcades existed here too. Dark, dingy and smoky, he could continue his reign of destruction all over any dude challenging him to Samurai Shodown or what-have-you. Time passed in the peaceful struggles against lesser fools who didn't know what time it was... But for how long?
He did find himself suffering through many battles what existed outside the screens. Beyond the areas where he was tearing asses up. For years he fought against the tyranny of the Daytona USA machine's ever-present, ear shattering shrieks. The long lines at whatever Mortal Kombat machine was new. Rising costs per-play. Square meat patties on round buns. 8-year-olds, fuckheads that they are, spilling their Big Reds into any classic cabinet's controls. He arose as victorious as Conan over these motherfuckers.
Adam did do this for the good of all arcades across the world. For all those who respected the edicts and the old ways. He battled to ensure that those after him could get their chance to kick asses in at their favored games. He fought for the promises of sticks and buttons that react with snap and response. No sticking. No bullshit. No excuses. For these things did Adam "PointingDevice" McWaters bust heads.
But one black day, wounded from a difficult discussion with the giant blob of mankind that spilled forth from the Killer Instinct machine, and exhausted by years of sheer attrition, a dark shadow fell across the land. He looked up at the oncoming foe and realized his own death. There before him rose the great six-headed avatar of his childhoods' undoing. On each writhing neck, shadowy effigies mewled and gurgled and cursed him.
In one of it's many right hands held high a Revolution X cabinet and did consider it "classic." It's left hand was an enormous lobster claw which gripped a bag of play tokens that cost an uneven amount of actual money to acquire. Amongst it's 6 slathering heads was a floating crown of a DDR machine, upon which lazily danced a series of slack jawed man-boys. Each head a skeletal visage of the last 6 chosen Pokemon of the Beast. Their mewlings called forth and heralded the end of arcades as he knew them.
Their voices ringing in his ears like tinnitus. Like the Daytona USA machine's wretched call. Like a fever. Adam "PointingDevice" McWaters did fall defeated, and he crawled away heartbroken. Leaving behind the tattered flag of his youth, and the vicious screams of the Beast that consumed all it surveyed.
Since that terrible day, he has primarily enjoyed games on PC, and fully accepted modern consoles as "awesome," in one way or another. But a giant hole has been metaphorically fucked into his very soul. A hole which can never be filled again, no matter how much money some proprietor is willing to lose.
- Hitler shortly before never calling this girl back ever again.
It's well known fact that Hitler and his legion of facehuggers were a team of formidable political figures. Enough so to even sway the majority vote of Germany, which is a feat in and of itself. BELIEVE me.
Note: Experts say that without his army of facehuggers, history would have been different. Facehuggers, as a rule, are naturally talented at typesetting and marketing strategies, giving Hitler that edge up over his opponent from the Union party.
- Jim, Manager of the Political Marketing and Propoganda team at play.
Regardless of his political clout, Hitler and his team were absolutely terrible at the art of military strategy. Try as they might, the Facehugger Advisory Group (FAG) were unable to sway the twitching mind of Hitler, who in a fit of opiates and absinthe told his weapon-making dwarves that the world's first assault rifle was "ugly," and didn't field it. He had the dwarves shaved and thrown into the local lava pits, so common with Germany.
5 minutes later the Soviets froze the entirety of Germany with their Tesla Ice Guns, stole the dwarven prototype, and 2 short years later we had the AK-47. In the wintery blast, the facehuggers didn't survive. Adolf Hitler found himself heartbroken for the first time.
From here he replaced most of his body with machines through dark Nazi sciences, and drank nothing but gasoline until pre-Ultimate Captain America came and wrecked his shit. Always bet on the Captain.
- Post-surgery Hilter trying to shoot Captain America (off-screen).
Point is, sure he was a politician, and 9 times out of 10 politicians are actually rad to party with, but underneath his smooth, fast-talkin' exterior he was a crackpot who had nothing to do with sex or video games; and everything to do with alien alliances and debauchery. Not the sexy type of debauchery, the fucked up kind where you lay your eggs in countless hooker's chests, do insane mountains of blow all at once and then sell used cars.
The guy was a cunt.
- Hitler after the loss of his Marketing team, and close friends, 1945
- The bust of WWII-era Captain America placed in the center of Manhattan island in honor of how fucking bad-ass the Captain is. **Not shown: The engraving on the back of the base which states, "Bitches ain't shit," the popular motto of Captain America's friend Tony 'Iron Man' Stark, who drunkenly etched that into the still-drying concrete base during it's construction.
After failing once again to produce regular blogs here, where I have decided to start blogging, I have deigned to speak yet again. I might even mention video games this time. Whoa!
Yesterday I finally got the wretched Wordpress site overhaul done for that contract client. You know, the one I keep complaining about in the IRC? Yeah. It's taken far far longer than I wanted, but all that remains is bringing it up to live status. This is good news due to the fact that Wordpress has taken up pretty much every moment of my free time, as well as the time I spend bullshitting at work. I could have been bullshitting so much more had this not been the case.
So I'm pleased to see I can almost finally put the shit to bed. It just goes to show it would be difficult and irresponsible for me to take on contracts in the future, until I am fixed via radiation vibes and pills and thus becoming the superhuman being I was intended to be in the original script. Then, all bets are off.
What this means is I'll probably be doing art again soon! I'm excited about that, because I like doing art. It's sort of an artist thing, ya know? Anyway, these arts will likely be posted here in more blogs that aren't about video games. That's how I roll.
Speaking of video games, that's another thing this particular site project kept me from doing. I'm sure by now I would hop into TF2 and get my ass handed right to me. I used to rule at TF2. I strictly remember ruling. I would likely not rule these days. I just don't know about teams and their fortresses anymore and it's sad.
As a gamer, who has just come back to gaming in some capacity after a long delay, I feel it's important that I take the time to actually play games. But, when I have epic amounts of Wordpress horseshit to wade through for months, that prevents me from playing games while simultaneously making me look like an idiot. Not fun. Therefore, empirical science dictates that it would be foolish for me to ever do contract jobs again. I mean, fuck 'em, right?
So, upcoming stuff from me: Artz and TF2. I need to dig up the Dtoid server info here soon and hop on so at least people I generally like can hand me my ass. But watch out, fuckers. I will eventually get my groove back and possibly rule yet again.
Shortly after this, I might actually branch out and play some different game, which i will talk about in further detail, but really, are there any complaints with TF2? I have none. It is multiplayer greatness, and I am a but a simple man with simple cares. Pay no attention to me.
Hello again! I have failed at my blogging duties yet again, enough so that the malevolent Dtoid robots post insulting comments on my pages about how big a failure I am and how small my dick is. It's like they've known me forever!
Anyway, I finally landed a job again. This is good news. It's actually my old job again, which is kind of cool. Phones suck, but it's money and I like money.
Additionally, I have been working on a side contract for a webside design to attempt to make some money in these tragic times. Do keep in mind I haven't been paid by my former employer is about 3 months.
What this all means for me is "no time for art." I'm admittedly crushed by this, and hoping that soon I'll be able to kick out some more stuff. In the meantime, my portfolio, other projects, and Atheistium are all sitting by eating their hot dogs and getting mad at me. It's stressful to say the least.
The only solace I have at the moment are brief naps and REZ HD. How sexy is that shit? Fuck yeah!
Hello again! It's the second day in a row that I've posted! What a deal!
Today was all Artrage work. I'm not at all used to the more traditional painting programs, nor do I have any kind of solid background in such a medium, but a program like Artrage seems to be a good start. For $20, you can't beat it.
So I took some cues from around the internets and went with it. The problem with this program is that it's very relaxing and fun to play around with, but I've been rarely pleased with the outcome, as a whole. Today I'm pretty happy with the results, and I'll let you all be the judge. Once judged, we can all go get lunch. Good times!
It's been far too long, but I return with a renewed sense of vigor and candor. Trust me when I say I've missed you all, even those of you who don't know a thing about me. I missed you the most. For reals.
Anyway, the purpose of this post is to begin using this here c-blog as a repository for my efforts to find art again. I was an artist, and from what folks tell me, a pretty good one. But in the immortal words of Cursive, "We all know art is hard." True dat, Cursive, true dat.
So frustratingly difficult is it, that I inadvertently gave it up entirely. I can talk for many hours about the reasons why, but I'll try to keep it brief here. I started getting really into art around my middle-school age, though I'd drawn shit up until then. The thing that really grabbed me is what we all now know as Manga and Anime. I was head-over-tits for the shit and ate it up. Got really quite good at it, and argued for long times with my high school art teacher about how it was, in fact, art.
How wrong I was. If I can give any aspiring artist out there some really solid advice, fucking leave anime alone for 15 minutes and get the boring shit like real anatomy out of the way. I didn't, and it has stifled me as an artist in the long run. I'm just now getting to the serious stuff after 28 years of drawing, and completely refusing to deal with the classics. Foolish move.
Sure, I'll agree, anime is colorful and fun and all that, and there are some good lessons to learn from it, but it's a genre. A mere slice of art as a whole. A set style with it's own rules that are bent and changed to create new styles within it, but even these get their boundaries, and I think that's the issue.
Now, I know some of you are aching to argue with me about this, and that's fine. But I will boldly state that this is, in fact, not my opinion. It's goddamn fact. If you value your artistry and growth in whatever medium, understand that getting some good foundations in drawing actual life detail will serve you a lot better in the long run. Get that out of the way, and then go back to making your own preferred style. It opens up a shitload of possibilities, and that's a good thing. Especially if you plan to try to get a job doing art.
Ok, with that out of the way, I am officially announcing that today I arted. Yes, I have, for the first time in a little over 2 years, sat down and made something artistic. I'm pretty proud of it, overall, and of course there's stuff I think that could be better, but I'm not really looking for a critique. Just looking to share a really great experience with you, my dear friends. I hope you enjoy it. Additionally, I would like to explain that Itemforty recently explained to me the harrowing points-system featured here in the clogs. This is not a ploy to get more of those, because I don't know what they're for, nor do I care.
Thanks for your time. It's good to be back.
Artrage 2.5, Photoshop - 3 hours or so of playing around: