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At 11/14/12 05:08 AM, Criminal-23 wrote: Just did 19 seconds. My highest record stands at 47 seconds, from 2005.

My mind does not simply allow me to hold my breath, as it gives a chance of death.

Actually, I'm too scared to hold my breath for too long. Unless I'm under water and have to swim 30 meters whilst not surfacing, I'm not going to risk anything.

You can't harm yourself by holding your breath. Your body will force inhalation and/or pass out to reduce need for oxygen to the brain. Any mental block to holding your breath is psychological--it's an ability innate to all humans. Fear of it is one thing, but your body will 'allow' you to hold it until you begin to auto-respirate (before or after passing out). The only way this can translate to harm is if you're asphyxiating yourself with an external method, like a tie or a rope or some shit. Unfortunately, that's not a sign that your body is ultra-tuned for survival. It's a sign that your blood is not oxygenating properly. Obesity, high cholesterol, asthma, and apnea are common causes.

Knowledge bomb dropped. :)

Wait... You people breathe all the time?
Weaksauce.
I only breathe on my birthday, sometimes on Christmas if I'm real drunk and feeling crazy.
You're all oxygen gluttons, and probably have giant obese lungs. HA.

At 11/14/12 12:22 AM, MClewis wrote: Artist got famous after their criticism. So thats what i need

With a passion...
...Okay.
You sure?
Really?
Fine.

---

Maybe you should stick to making paper airplanes, as opposed to drawing them. I wouldn't wipe my ass with any single one of these, for fear my shits would start coming out as disproportionate as that hairy looking woman with the leg stapled to her chest. Speaking of crap, I've seen better drawings scrawled by my grandpa's toes on the nursing home floor. At least then I could smell it before I was baited into looking at it.

The best thing about your particular submissions is their scarcity. Keep it scarce, lest NG get banned from another ad service for objectionable content. I know I certainly object to all of it. These doodles are to Take On Me as Hitler was to any. other. German. Not just a poor example, but an unfettered atrocity.

I'm going to go shove a pencil into my butthole eraser-first, squat above some paper, and then sniff a cat until I provoke a violent sneezing fit. I'd post whatever picture my shuddering sphincter produces, but I think you beat me to it.

So I guess you have originality going for you.

---

That's the most horrible thing I think I've ever written to anyone. Nevertheless: Mission accomplished.
(None of the above is serious, in case that's not clear.)

I recently met a programmer looking for a project, and posed to him the idea of a traditional western RPG. (Think Baldur's Gate, Arcanum, Fallout, etc. Project Eternity, for a current example.)
I'm a freelance writer, and I'm currently negotiating a novel deal with a couple of national publishing houses. I'm also an advanced-stage Lyme's Disease patient, leaving me almost completely disabled.

I've written a baseline script for said RPG, and after reviewing some ideas, we decided to give it a shot. He's been working on various mechanics and techniques in preparation for doing a game project, and I've been making notes within this fictional world and using it to DM table top RPGs for nearly ten years. Therefore, the conceptual and baseline content needs were filled rather quickly. I pulled in my personal assistant (from my novel's editorial team) and my artistically inclined wife to help with pixel art if we go that route. Thing us, none of us are experienced in that field, and while we could gradually produce acceptable art assets, it would dramatically lengthen the dev cycle.

I've written up the events (along with outlines for all elements and events of each scene) of a pretty solid demo of the game. We have grid-based combat with line-of-sight around objects, combat and exploration mechanics for an animated sprite-based interface. The UI is still a work in progress, it'll depend on some gameplay decisions as we flesh out a few unique mechanics.

Save for some basic script demos with empty placeholder sprites, there really isn't much to "show".
The story isn't something we're trying to put much info on the open web about--it's going to be a main draw to the game, once we formally announce the project (preferably after we've finalized a solid art direction, whether we produce it or not).

The point is, this project will be a proverbial first-entry in any sort of game development portfolio. That said, we'd rather push it back and produce our own art than get into a position where we'd spending the whole project trying to hold on to a team member who feels like they're doing everyone a big favor by showing up. We're all putting in time, and we've already put in quite a bit. All we're doing is putting it out there to see if anyone else is interested. If not, fine.

There are people who are actually interested in doing these things because they love to do it. That's the sort of team we have, and that's the sort of person we'd be interested in adding. Simple as that.

I could as easily treat the artist as if they need to prove they're worth representing my dozens of hours of writing, or the programmer could decide he'll only script for pro artists and writers, noobs not allowed. But then ... well, we'd just be a team of assholes. :)

Well with that post, the lack of any examples and your previous 5 forum posts I lost all interest. Good luck regardless

Thanks. :) We're looking for a slightly better attitude for our team anyway.
No one gets to join the team acting like they're doing anyone a big favor by showing up.
I'm sure you've put out lots of amazing games to justify the attitude, but we have to get experience somewhere.
We're looking for someone else with the same goal. I don't feel like that's exceptionally difficult to comprehend.
Then again, I also asked for response via PM or e-mail, and that seems to have flown right by.

Thanks to the people who have responded (constructively, and via posted methods) so far!

At 11/11/12 09:39 PM, Lucky wrote: Can you post some examples of prev games your dev team has worked on, or an alpha or screenshots on what this looks like so far?

Nope.

This is our first project. While we're capable of producing our own visuals, it would extend our development time significantly over having a dedicated artist--and at a likely lower quality. We have a script, setting, layouts of the environs/characters needed, and both combat and exploration are very near completion (sans decent visuals).

We're not trying to hire an artist--no one is making anything on this.
No one is in a position to prove anything to anyone else.
This project's completion will give us a good idea of possible future projects that might actually generate some sort of production budget.

Our ideal artist would be someone who is doing it for the same reasons we are--give it an honest shot, and see if we have the chops to move forward from there. I'm very excited about the material we have thus far, and the passion of the three-man-group that is currently devoting so much of their time.

We're looking for a fourth, equally passionate individual, who is willing to make the same gamble. On the plus side, said person will be able to come into a project that is already very solidly moving toward release. We have working code, and a story to utilize it. What we need now is a little more visual punch, so that it looks as good as it plays.

Anyone interested can feel free to PM or e-mail me as mentioned in the OP. For now, I'm back to my pixel art tutorials, just in case. >.>

We're looking for a talented member to add to our team. We're creating a dark fantasy RPG filled with tough moral choices and a story that we feel is as compelling as any AAA product. The game will have a traditional top down (or isometric, depending on the artist) navigation. Combat will take place on a separate hex grid, in turns (Heroes of Might and Magic-esque, to allow for some basic maneuvering, AOE attacks, etc).

There will be several environs needed, most of them typical to the genre.
Character art, item art, spell effects.

Traditional flash animated characters and pixel art are both acceptable styles.
What we want most? Timely work. Much of the writing, design, and programming has been done--this is a game that will see release if we get another solid member on board.

Finally, understand that this is a potential beginning, depending on reception, to an indie franchise we'd like to see expand and grow. We're starting here, but we've got the material, ideas, and potential to go much further. If you're interested in being a part of our team, just send me a message (pm or e-mail) along with some links to samples of your style.

Nate "Legerdemain" Church
The Whispered Word Dev Team
legerdemain@gmx.com

Here's a tidbit from the disjointed prologue of a novel I'm currently shopping around. I'd also love to collab with someone on an RPG--I've got lots and lots of material. I tend to write very visceral stories.

Sorry if this excerpt is confusing. Like I said, it's just a snippet. Basic progression is from the perspective of someone waking up in shock on a battlefield, and then being retrieved by an unnamed pair of soldiers after an unexplained identifying interaction.

Here it is!

------------- Kept -------------

It looked more than anything like a mound of ruddy yarn, badly savaged by an over-zealous cat. The sun was setting, muting whatever green might have remained visible on the embattled hill top. Even the wind had fled this place, so that the cloying smell of rot was thick in the stagnant air. The only sound in my ears, a ragged and rhythmic gasping that tore at my throat and only stopped with the labored grunt of inhalation.

/I sound as if I'm fucking./
The thought brought a less-than-sane smile to my face. I recalled the demonstration being given just so. Sea-colored eyes flashing about an almost comically enormous mouth, gangling arms trying in vain to mimic two people entwined. Ceaj had a gift for the dramatic, and his exposition of the previous night's adventure was not nearly so awkward and stilted as my mother's former attempt to explain procreation. no stuttering here, no looking away or wringing hands. He was nothing if not wildly effusive, as if it had been his own 'ramrod' that this supposedly fortunate lady had been 'jocking like a scared outrider headed home'.

The memory made me weep, though at the time I couldn't have told you why.
I couldn't well move my arms, and it was some time before I had regained my senses enough to understand that they were twisted beneath me. My vision faded in and out, and the moon was high in the sky before I possessed enough self awareness to try and push myself off of them.

My right arm ached, throbbed with the effort, every muscle protesting. The pain was much like my headaches--of which I will speak of at length--but ground into the bones of the struggling limb so that moving it caused the whole of my body to shudder.

All but the left. That one didn't move at all, though it offered me a sympathetic twinge in answer to my efforts. I was growing frustrated with the attempt, though I could not have been trying for more than a few minutes. I had only just begun to move when my gorge rose and bile choked from my ragged throat. There was a wash of acrid sour to join the sickening sweet of decay, and the combination forced my body to try and vomit again. At some point during, everything became mercifully dark.

---

I could hear a sort of stamping, crunching noise. A muted metallic clacking, a sporadic grunting, various and beyond my foggy mind's ability to translate. The sourceless predawn grey filtered between my slowly opening eyelids, one of which was tacky and remained stubbornly shut against the soiled grass. My face itched. I tried to reach up to scratch it, and was reprimanded with searing pain that rocked from the tips of my fingers to my shoulder, and then down my spine.

"He's alive." A voice not far behind me, low and gruff.

"No he ain't." A different voice. Add to this the tramping noise again, and then a heavy, sticky pressure against the side of my throbbing skull. The stench of oiled leather and rotten meat filled my nostrils as the boot settled there.

"You crush his head, and they'll be right pissing mad." answered the first.

"Mad is one thing, but they're always mad. We ain't the only ones saving ourselves a long haul back tonight."

"I think this one might end up Kept. Clean face and all." These words were muted by the heavier crush of the boot over my ear, and the pressure became great enough that I heard little of the reply. Then someone was pulling at my breeches, roughly exposing me even as the boot's pressure began to abate.

To this day, I do not know how I acquired the broken blade in my crumpled right hand. The hilt-less end of a short sword, biting into my fingers even as I clutched it tight. My agony forgotten, my torso twisted suddenly to offer my arm its strength, and the blade slashed upward in my hand as I rolled onto my back.

A sickening squelch, and my hand hung limp above me. Dried filth glued my fingers around the shard of steel that was now buried halfway into the side of an old man's skull. His eyes were sleepy, as if he was simply wearied by the cruelty of his luck. He was sagging down over me now, and the slump of his shoulder revealed another man looking down at us in shock.

I felt satisfied by that, though again I wasn't sure why. Then I went to sleep.

---

The rhythm of my dragging feet awoke me. Bumping on stones and things softer than stones, aching through the bare remains of my worn out boots. Two other boots, larger and facing the opposite direction, trudged beneath the limp sagg of my legs. I was somehow bound to the back of a much larger man, though my sluggish mind still resisted comprehension.

It felt as if I had slept for a very long time, though it couldn't have been more than an hour. I was upright, and that was jarring enough without the rest. There was a rough tightness lashed around my breast bone, grating and burning and sore. My right hand hung from the limp flop of my arm, a branch of fingers filleted by the effort of my last kill. The blood on that hand, at least, was fresh. I still could not feel my left arm, but my eyes called that a mercy. It was barely attached.

Ragged muscle and tendon and shriveling flesh, pale white where it wasn't soaked in my own blood. It was cut apart in several places, and my smallest finger was absent altogether. Still quite dazed, I remember being vaguely curious as to why it didn't hurt. There was a band tied hard just below my shoulder, and the skin above it was swollen and livid.

Finally I lifted my head, struggling against the spasm in my neck and the awkward sway of my exhausted body at the prods of my courier's rolling shoulders. This was my first mistake, and still--perhaps comically, now--the one that I regret most keenly. I should not have looked. Nothing was accomplished by that gaze. I looked because I was stupid with loss of blood and the grieving pulse of my broken body.

Merciless daylight assaulted my eyes with a thousand reflected splinters. The glare of broken armor could not blind me, however, to the mire broken bodies. The hill was covered in death, obscenely twisted and butchered beyond recognition. It was not a simple matter of men brutalized and unrecognizable. Rather, it was a garish mess that defied any effort to number them. Blue-black entrails wound amidst shattered bones, long slabs of riddled muscle stretched from shrinking yellowy tendon. Such a horror as to defy even terms such as 'massacre', or 'slaughter'.

For the first time, I felt the trembling spasm of shock run throughout my broken body. I tremble still, sometimes.

In the night, when the hills look like savaged yarn.

------------- Kept -------------

Feedback, please!

Wow, I suck.

legerdemain@gmx.com is the actual e-mail address.

(Eek.)

My name is Nathan ("Nate") Church. I'm a professional freelance writer, currently working on a book deal and trying to keep busy during the inevitable waiting that comes with the territory.
I'm looking to get into writing with the NG community, for several reasons:

a) I've been a multiple-times-daily Newgrounds member for years. Mostly silent aside from occasional reviews, but nevertheless truly amazed by what comes from this community. I'm hoping the talent is contagious.

b) I want to try to establish myself in multiple genres of writing. Truthfully, I'd rather be Lukas Kristjanson than Stephen King. Game writing is one of my favourite things. The style is incredibly fun to work with. Terse but vivid styling, married with the opportunity to explore multiple avenues of a story as may be influenced by how the game is played.

c) I'd love to eventually write for and/or produce an indie RPG. Money is being thrown hand over fist to compelling narratives in indie game format. A solid team could go far, andI want to be part of one.

So basically... I'm out here. If someone is interested, contact me via NG itself or my e-mail (legerdemain@gmail.com).
Let's make some front-page-flooding shit together.

Also, I love long walks on the beach and good wine. Just to keep the mental image of freely whoring myself intact.
Freely whoring... Contradiction in terms? Huh.

Looking to propose to someone amazing, after she rocked my world. She's 700 miles away working on some career related projects, and this is when she'd least expect something to happen.

I've written a song (I am a professional writer) and I have the melody, but I can't write music for shit.

If someone could help me add music to my vocals, and possibly create a video (a humorous Flash montage about our relationship?) I would be willing to offer my services (experienced writer, voice actor, game designer[conceptualization & planning]) ... Other than that, I have very little monetary resource.

Please contact me via Skype, under: dmrannn.harquen
or through e-mail at: dmrannn@gmail.com

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and your consideration.