Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

Everyone will get a symbolical cut, fear not. But we aren't capable of paying them fulltime, much of what's already been done goes directly out of our wallets. We devote much of our free time to this and the Kickstarter will help cover some parts we aren't capable of executing alone.

Besides, if there are any other questions you wish to give or accusations of a shady deal, do please send them via PM. I'll be glad to go through them and answer all you have to say.

As the title states, I'm looking for a programmer for a 3D PC RPG I and a small team are working on. We're aiming with a more stylized approach to the work (In the likes of Warcraft, Telltale Games, Zelda, Borderlands, etc. rather then a semi-realistic approach in the sense of Crysis, Elder Scrolls, etc.). The game is set in early medieval time, it is of Slavic inspiration and has a rather dark aura around it.

We already have a coder to work with UNITY and need someone with experience in OpenGL, C# language. Some small experience in UNITY would be welcome as well!

If you're either looking to expand your portfolio, get some new experience then you're heartly welcome. As of now, we sadly cannot pay (Much of our budget comes straight from our wallets) and while we will have a Kickstarter campaign, we wish to use it to cover other areas of the game.

You can contact me via PM on Newgrounds
Or via Email: amadeusbirca@gmail.com

As the title states, I'm looking for a concept artist for a PC RPG I and a small team are working on. We're aiming with a more stylized approach to the work (In the likes of Warcraft, Telltale Games, Zelda, Borderlands, etc. rather then a semi-realistic approach in the sense of Crysis, Elder Scrolls, etc.). The game is set in early medieval time, it is of Slavic inspiration and has a rather dark aura around it.

If you're either looking to expand your portfolio, get some new experience then you're heartly welcome. As of now, we sadly cannot pay (Much of our budget comes straight from our wallets) and while we will have a Kickstarter campaign, we wish to use it to cover other areas of the game.

You can contact me via PM on Newgrounds
Or via Email: amadeusbirca@gmail.com

As the title states, I'm looking for 3D modelers for a PC RPG I and a small team are working on. We're aiming with a more stylized approach to the work (In the likes of Warcraft, Telltale Games, Zelda, Borderlands, etc. rather then a semi-realistic approach in the sense of Crysis, Elder Scrolls, etc.). The game is set in early medieval time, it is of Slavic inspiration and has a rather dark aura around it.

If you're either looking to expand your portfolio, get some new experience then you're heartly welcome. As of now, we sadly cannot pay (Much of our budget comes straight from our wallets) and while we will have a Kickstarter campaign, we wish to use it to cover other areas of the game.

You can contact me via PM on Newgrounds
Or via Email: amadeusbirca@gmail.com

Sent you a mail.

So, I've finished work on another new graphic, still experimenting with the shading style. Before I'll head on working on the comic, I'd like to settle with the style and look, get used to it. Gives me plenty of time to rest my head and go through the story a few time, fix what was once hyped out and plan it out all in better detail!

Hohoho... yes. Should have thought of earlier. THUS I re-uploaded it in some neat PDF format, suitable to read on the PC or on the go!

Chapter 1: The Festivities
Chapter 2: The Wolf's Howl

So, for everyone who wishes to lay back somewhere and read, the download links are above otherwise there's an online based version in the first post! Feedback welcome.

It's for stylistic reasons. I try to focus on the pose of the characters and tell their emotions with it, giving the viewer the chance to imagine the facial expression to detail. In the comic I'm working on, I work with faces as well if they're close enough to the viewer to be taken into interest.

Hoy there folks!
This here is my dark medieval fiction Birmwood, inspired by Eastern European folklore. It follows the story of two friends; Parcival Godrigson and Dillian Raike on their biggest adventure to come yet. To save you from scrolling down this page and to keep the topic clean for feedback, questions, critique (All of it welcome), I will simply post links to each of the chapters (Which I will upload online).

I'm not advertising the website, if you know of any other place friendly to post the story online, do shoot! I welcome every feedback. So, here we go!

Chapter 1: The Festivities
Chapter 2: The Wolf's Howl

Hoy! I haven't been here for a good while, was busy with other stuff. Since my last visit, I was able to get some work on some traditional art and started with some graphic illustrations.

This one took me a month, it's made on A3 and is now being slowly converted into a woodcut (Once I've done cutting the thing out, I'll print it and scan it).

Some more drawings. I'm slowly nearing the last stages of my bigger project, so I'll be able to upload some of it soon!

Worked on some more.

At 3/4/14 01:52 PM, ParcivalGodrigson wrote: Some more drawings.

Damn it... my mistake.

Some more drawings.

Thanks, and yea'. I've been following Mike's work for quite a while now, simply love his style. And yea'. I'm working on a bigger thing now, in color. I'll certainly upload it once it gets done. Until then, the most I can do to keep this topic alive is update it with my spontaneous sketches and other smaller things.

Here's some more of it.

Long time no hear folks! Well here is some stuff. Started drawing croquis drawings of people I see, and here's the product.

Thank you for your feedback, which is very welcome, indeed.
I do have this thought in mind to re-write what is written and enclose it into one chapter. Polish the already given and fix the mistakes and with feedback, I'm able to do so.

Furthermore, thank you for taking the time to read through it and commenting. Much appreciated.

The two slowly cover the path ahead, helping each other as they climb over the ruins of what once used to be the bridge and further up, into the city itself. The metal construct of the bridge now serves as a staircase, which rests upon the ruins of small apartment buildings. To their left and right, nature took back its domain and the crowns of trees now give shade to the Kshatrya. Even thought it was late in spring, autumn colors prevailed and the air was cold.
The morning mist continued to cover the river-swamp behind them, but that was no concern to Dimitry, who unlike the observing and standing Pisatelj, continued his ascension. Frightened to be left alone, with a shout, he ran up the bridge.
“Wait! Dima, Wa-“
Pisatelj was known for his clumsiness and in an eye blink, a wrong step, he fell. His rifle, slipped off his shoulder and hit the rocky ground with a metal thud, which was followed by a shout.
“No!”
Dimitry turned his head violently around, looking at Pisatelj. Who was sitting on his knee, picking up his rifle and mourning over the accident which damaged the plastic sight, on the end of the barrel.
“No, come on… come on. Where did the piece go, where did it go.” He continued to mumble while trying to find the missing piece. With slow and careful steps, Dimitry closed onto Pisatelj and interrupted his mad mumbling with a hand on his shoulder.
“Get a hold of yourself.” Replied Dimitry, with a serious tone. Nervously looking around.
“B-but my gun. My gun man!”
“Screw the damn gun, let’s g-“
“SCREW?!” Interrupted Pisatelj with an angry shout, which carried further into the city in an echo. The word repeated again and again, until it grew too distant to hear.
SCREW
SCREW
Screw
screw
The echo was answered with a howl and the very blood in Pisatelj’s veins froze. Dimitry took hold of his rifle, dangling off his chest. For a good moment, the two remained there, not a word, a sound left their mouths.
Pisatelj breathed out with ease, gripping the mouth-exhaust pipe of his gas mask and pulled it completely off, catching his dirty and sewn together beret, turning it around and mounting it back on.
“For a moment there, I thought we were done for.” He replied with a smirk.
Dimitry turned his stiff head at Pisatelj and without a word, grabbed him by the neck piece of his jacket and pulled him up.
“Move and keep quiet.”
The two continued their journey with a horrible feeling boiling in their stomach. To Pisatelj, it was his rifle and the reaction he received from Dimitry that made him feel unease. To Dimitry, it was the howling. Yet do not understand wrong, it was not that the howling came from hounds, which these days act as aggressive creatures that roam the city. No. It was the memory of his own dog, which he had as a young child and which eventually, fell prey to its years. It died in his very own hands.
Thunder is heard from the distance and Dimitry stops, slowly returning to reality.
“-oming. Can you actually hear what I’m saying?”
“’ey, can you hear me?” Repeated Pisatelj again, heavily breathing as he makes his final steps up the bridge.

“Are you fucking with me still or what? I said there’s a storm approaching.”
Dimitry’s sight turns to the beach of the river-swamp, where a few dogs make their round, sniffing their makeshift barge. The sound of thunder appears again and Dimitry holsters his rifle, back onto his shoulder, taking off his gas mask.
“Let’s find a shelter.”

All in due time. And thanks, am glad to hear that. I'll be keeping it on a weekly basis, so here's the second part of it.
________________________________
The murky waters of the river-swamp, slowly divided by the steadily progressing barge, continued to pave the ground for the two scavengers. The grass covered rope swings with each wheel turn and Dimitry finds it difficult to stay awake. Until the ominous silence that prevailed is broken.
“Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back. Kind of fitting, don’t you agree?”
Dimitry turned his head around, looking puzzled at Pisatelj. For him, no book hold any value or knowledge for that, he received from field practice, from the real, outside world. He saw books and fictions as an escape from reality, a drug that dulls the senses and in such a ruthless new world that very well meant death. Yet here he had a companion, known since ages, who was the very embodiment of his despise.
“Like Moses, we now divide the murky sea, in hopes of a better future for our people beyond.”
“I’d rather have you focus on wheeling then some fairy tales.” Interrupted Dimitry.
“Fairy tales?” Asked Pisatelj surprised. Pausing his wheeling. “Our very existence today was a fairy tale of yesterday. How can you deny it now? The same goes for it. A fairy tale of yesterday but who knows.” Pisatelj took back to wheeling least Dimitry responds in anger and with his last breath he finishes, “Maybe the truth of tomorrow.”
Silence fell upon the barge again. Only the sound of rippling water and the counting of the Geiger accompanied their journey. The wearing of a gas mask was necessary at some key locations. While the world did fall back to nature, there was still the threat of the nuclear power plant that, unmanned, spread radiation across Slovenia.

As if God himself came upon the land to sort out the people. Many fled when the catastrophy occurred while others fell prey to it. There was but a handful of survivors left that took shelter in old bunkers, dating back to the time of Yugoslavia. There, they were confronted with radiation poisoning, human nature, starvation and soon, their numbers dwindled. The survivors divided and smaller groups were formed, gangs, that each took to its own. Some escaped outside, into the wilds where they were confronted with whatever nature conjured in the absence of men. Some took shelter in the depths of parking lots, where they re-built their vision of civilization, another group took to the security of old police buildings and army deposes, believing that weapons will protect them from human nature, only to succumb to it themselves. And the last group, to which Dimitry and Pisatelj fell, remained behind in the bunkers, where they withstood the years.
The gangs named themselves accordingly. Those who remained in the bunkers, were known as Molemen. To those in parking lots, the Parkers. Those who took to the wilds, Jagers and last were the Punkz. The most feared of all the groups. Unlike the others who took to farming and animals to survive, they took to raiding and pure scavenging. Bobby-trapping the city, setting traps. Theirs was a life of hunting and many smaller groups, which are unimportant to name, fell prey to them sooner or later. Scavengers were mostly hit by them than any other beast or the nature itself. Though there was a weakness within the Punkz. With all the weapons and ammo they had, they soon fell into anarchy and fell upon themselves like rats. Furthermore, you always heard a Punk from afar and key into avoiding them, was silence and patience.
And so it was that Dimitry, many times, relied upon his old friend who all came to call, Tihar. The silent one. He knew how to talk and his tongue still rolled, though he always everything to himself and even in the strongest of debates and funniest of laughs, he’d remain silent. Even before the catastrophy he was the same yet it wasn’t until after, that his err proved to be worth gold.
Still lost in his thoughts, Dimitry was slammed ahead as the boat hit against a wooden pole. A hand reached for him and he soon saw Pisatelj lifting him up. He shook his head and jacked his rifle upfront. The thick, ominous mist had lifted itself partly and before them, in clear view, lied the ruined and overgrown city of Maribor.
"Feels good to be home again, eh?" The voice of Pisatelj came from behind. Dimitry swallowed his spit and climbing out the boat, with a hoarse deep voice, add.
"Home sweet home."

Hello all!
Before I'll begin I want to say that I am an avid Post-Apocalyptic fan, both in in the position of a creator and a watcher. While I'm working on a web based series, set in a Post-Apocalyptic world, I'm filling the urge to create simple side stories. This being one of them. So, I'll simply drop a short example here and if you folks think it's good enough, I'll start on writing more.
________________________________________________________

The living darkness, that made itself at home in every nook and cranny of the old world, slowly backed away as a dim light emerged from within. Footsteps and heavy breathing echoed throughout the long hallway until it ceased with the fall of darkness.
Alike the silence before a storm, a screeching sound followed and behold, there now was light where once was darkness, and it revealed a shady figure, a Kshatrya. The knight of the new age. With long, sturdy, army issued boots it tread upon the land, covered with a trench coat to hide his many tools and, his head adorned with a gas mask. His name came echoing behind.
“Dima!”
Dimitry turned to face the darkness that dominated deeper down the tunnel, from where another new-age knight arrived. To his eyes, Dimitry was but a glimpse, a shadow, a silhouette of his former self.
“Dima.”
The boy breathed heavily, desperately catching for breath through his gas mask, panting as he came to a halt. The door slammed closed, yet the dim light of Dimitry’s lighter gave no pause for the darkness to reclaim its domain.
“Why have you come here? You believe this to be one of your stories?”
The heavy voice of Dimitry carried throughout the hall and the boy looked up at him, with a puzzling look, which only the dim light of Dimitry’s lighter did reveal throughout the mask. He had lost his old name with the old age for in the new, he was referred to as, Pisatelj, writer.
“I have come to follow you, like we talked in the age past. Besides, you won’t be able to carry all the goods yourself. You need aid.”
“Don’t tell me what I am and what I’m not capable of.”
“Then we share the same thoughts and you will give me this chance.” Pistalj quickly add.
Dimitry was a loner, he did his best alone. Not because he was asocial or of ill repute. Actually, there was no better man to talk with and rise a glass in his name then him. No, it was because alone, he was able to focus on his actions and not on the thought of responsibility for another. Yet he didn’t like this decision, uncertainty was lying in the air. But time was growing short and there was much to do before dusk and in the end, he agreed.
This was one of those days for Dimitry. Where he knew from the moment he’d open his eyes, something was to happen. For good or worse. It would happen around the next corner or the last moment before he’d fall asleep. His decision to allow Pisatelj onto his business was one of those uncertainties. But there was a task ahead and he had to focus.
The two left the safety of the underground tunnel, which lead to their new home, their new world. Before them now lies but only the memories of an age long gone, the ruins of Maribor. Dimitry’s task was simple, just alike the other Kshatrya, he was to gather goods from the old city to be used within the new world. Books, CD’s, toys, electrical spare parts but above all, gasoline, food and wood. For without this, the new world would not function.
The morning mist covered the banks of the once flowing river of Drava and gave shelter against the preying eyes of beasts that now call the ruins their home. The river turned into a swamp and the only way to cross it was via the makeshift barge.
“Come, time to prove your worth. Here,” Dimitry gestured to Pisatelj, who was idly inspecting the surroundings, and pointed at the wheel, which was connected with the rope leading across the river, “Start turning.”
Pisatelj pushed away the insect that rested upon the wheel and with a sturdy grip, took to his task. The wheel screeched, as it turned around its rusted hold, a thing Dimitry was most comfort with. Slowly, the barge begun its descent into the sorrow and horror filled past. With each turn, the mist devoured the barge, until it was no more.

Well, thank you. And yes, the second one is still WIP, aiming to put some more shading into it, which I begun at the head (The nose "arrow" is an example). Though, here's one of my old pictures.

Just finished another vector for my dark medieval fiction, Birmwood. This time, it's Ludleska, one of the female protagonists of the fiction.

Hello folks of Newgrounds!
Parcival here, a new member of this brilliant community and hoping, my art doesn't stink too much. I'm mostly working with vectors, whenever I'm turning my sketches digital, usually simple art with pencil and paint.

I'm catchable on devianART as well, the link is here: http://parcivalgodrigson.deviantart.com/ with all my vectors to boost. So, for the opening screen, I'll simply show you this piece:

A vector made as a cover art for a book, that I'm working on at the moment (Custom dark medieval fiction). It depicts the main protagonist, Parcival Godrigson (Ironic, eh?) embracing the lovely female protagonist, Ludleska.