Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

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At 8/24/11 11:53 AM, fluffkomix wrote:

At 8/24/11 02:17 AM, protoAuthor wrote: I'm trying to incorporate a sketchy, gritty style

that looks very clean for a sketchy, gritty style

Then I did it wrong.

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The Preacher /Teaser first three shots

I'm trying to incorporate a sketchy, gritty style, so I think trying to undertake my first animation effort all hand-drawn FBF is a good idea. Plus, tweens just look terrible. Now I have to figure out how to use my gorram tablet, because it pisses me off that I'm doing better with the mouse than a tablet. And I need to figure out how to do sound.

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At 6/26/11 08:12 PM, Triumvirate wrote:

At 6/26/11 08:03 PM, CrazySquirrel124 wrote: Does anybody else hate these forums? Nobody ever goes on them, and the people that DO only play CoD games.

*also off topic, what class should I be in TF2?

listen you cunt, i cant call you fat but i can definitely call you a cunt because you're being one.
you are a fucking pathetic little faggot bitch, and i want you to come to my house and spew the same bullshit you post in here to my face.

oh wait,i dont need to worry about you coming to my house because you would never do it. youll just continue to sit behind a fucking computer screen and act like fucking mike tyson to every guy you meet, when in reality you are a fat virgin neckbeard loser with cheeto dust in his beard and a pillow with a hole in it that you fuck every night
seriously, its so god damn pathetic to just watch people like you. like, i want to try to be angry at you, but honestly i just want to be your friend out of pity because i know you dont have any besides the friends on your wow account.

you should honestly just draft up a suicide note right now and continue adding to it every day little by little as the failures of your life pile up day after day and you wil finally have an entire book worth of your failures and can finally kill yourself and make your family and online friends happy.

of course, you would probably fuck it up and miss your brain stem so you have to shoot yourself in the head 2-3 times while in agony to go out like a wounded dog, or you will try to mix bleach and ammonia but the room will be a bit too ventilated so you weel literally feel the chlorine gas burning away the lining of your lungs and suffer in horrific, unfathomable agony for 5 minutes as you literally burn and melt from the inside out after you start vomiting up your own lungs and liquefied lung begins pouring out of your nose and you slowly suffocate to death.
fucking hate pretentious cunts..

Hey Faggot, My name is Joshua Martinez, and I hate you. You are a fat, retarded, no-life who spends every second of his day drawing stupid ass pictures. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have you ever gotten any pussy? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your own insecurities, but you just take to a whole new level. This is even worse than fucking an anime blowup doll.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the football team, and starter on my basketball team. What sports do you play, other than "jack off to naked drawn animal people"? I also get straight A's,] and have a banging hot girlfriend (She just blew me; Shit was SO cash). You are a faggot who should just kill himself. Thanks for listening. Pics Related: It's me and my bitch

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At 6/26/11 08:09 PM, Newgrundling wrote: Black Ops > TF2

gets popcorn

Silent Hill 2 > Everything

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At 6/26/11 08:03 PM, CrazySquirrel124 wrote: Does anybody else hate these forums? Nobody ever goes on them, and the people that DO only play CoD games.

*also off topic, what class should I be in TF2?

Well, I'm the Heavy, so CRY SOME MORE.

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Pssht, practical effects are where it's at.

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On a positive, non-sarcastic note.

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Superior

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60 frames per second, bitch, do it!

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PREFACE
What you are about to read is an improved version of a story I started writing to post on FictionPress. For any of you zero people who saw it there, I'll acknowledge, looking over the original story, there were quite a few logistical errors, none of which I will point out as you read; but they were big ones. I got through 8 chapters before I got distracted and moved on to something else, but I do have an ending in mind.
WHOOSH!
Lucas could feel the heat of the AT4's backblast 5 feet from Rob's '4. As he turned, he glimpsed
the rocket flying through the technical's windshield, exploding inside it.
Another victor behind it stopped, and footmobiles poured from it like a goddamn clown car. It had
to be at least 10 people.
Lucas's M4A1 was up and firing, a failure drill for each insurgent. Two to the chest, one in the
head. Two in the chest, one in the head. Rinse, wash, repeat.
His rifle ran dry, but Rick's M16A4 was up from Lucas's '6, directly over Lucas's shoulder. If it
weren't for the quality of Lucas's personal (and almost prohibitively expensive) ear guards, Lucas
would probably have gotten tinnitus from this. But Rick was a good shot, taking out 3 tangos with
5 shots, giving Lucas time to drop his rifle and pull his sidearm, a SIG-Sauer P229, dropping 2
more footmobiles.
The ground started to rumble. Lucas could hear the familiar creak of poorly-maintananced tank
treads. Probably the same T-90 that had taken down the squad's Seaknight.He had to admit, the
shot it had made was impressive. It went straight through the cockpit, took the pilot's head off. But
it hadn't detonated, probably a shitty home-made round. It had still rendered the Seaknight dead,
though.
Lucas's '229 locked empty as he saw the tank emerge from a wide alley. Rob swung another AT4
off his back and leveled it at the treads. If they squeaked, they could immobilize the tank.
It wouldn't kill it, though. The T-90's armor was way too thick. As he fired, Rob took a round to
the lower torso, spinning him to the ground, penetrating his SAPI plates, Lucas saw blood.
The 84mm missile impacted just above the weak spot of the treads.
Lucas dropped his pistol and unslung one of his own AT4s. He leveled it at the treads, just as the
tank's main gun leveled at them, preparing to deliver them a 125mm ticket to Hell.
As he pressed the trigger,
Lucas Wright woke up.
His bed was drenched with sweat, his hand under his pillow, grasping his RIA 1911A1, finger
curled around the trigger. Luckily, he kept it uncocked with an empty chamber. Better to have to
chamber a round than to have it go off. He had been having these dreams for a while. Memories,
moreso. His dreams had really happened. But they happened in July, 4 years ago. He didn't
usually have dreams about them any other month. It was currently October, the 18th. He looked
at the clock. The 19th, actually. It was 0542 hours. Technically the next day. Lucas yawned,
rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He decided he would shower and watch the sunrise in his
backyard. He loved that. He didn't get to do that often enough, but figured it made every time he
did a special treat. As he stretched, he realized he was still grasping his gun tightly. He had almost
forgotten. He ejected the mag and did a brass check. The action was smooth, the slide racked a
quarter-length back with little resistance. No round in the chamber. Good. He had paid too much
customizing this gun to have it taken away for reckless handling, or to shoot himself or someone
else by accident.
It had started its life as a standard Rock Island Armory 1911A1. He had gotten it for $550. He
had paid that much in addition with all of his customizations.
It now had a tutone finish; blued slide with a hard-chromed frame. It also had Novak combat
sights with tritium inserts. The trigger was a skeletonized combat trigger, with a pull of ~2.1 lbs. He
had gotten the magwell widened, and he used weighted mag plates on all of his magazines. He
loaded it with Federal .45 JHP rounds for EDC, in an IPSC holster in the small of his back, which
was a tricky feat to pull off with a full-sized combat pistol. Lucas wasn't particularly big, either. He
was about 6'1", about 193 lbs. His mother always told him he was meant to be an actor or an
artist, not meant for menial work. His ex had told him his best features were his eyes and his smile.
Those were also the reasons she left him, saying he wasn't the man she loved anymore. That the
warmth in his eyes and smile weren't there anymore. He had changed during his service. She had
left the state 2 months ago. He remembered her saying something about moving to California, and
if he found himself again, Texas wasn't too far from Cali to visit. Her Facebook said she was
engaged to some businessman.
His CD player's tray slowly slid out. The gears were failing. He'd have to get that fixed. He
dropped the disc in, and pushed in the tray.
Beethoven's Ninth started to fill the air.
Lucas started his shower. He waited a minute for the water to warm up.
He felt good today, despite the nightmare. He was going to get off work early. He worked as a
manager at a local grocery store. The pay was decent, especially considering he didn't have to pay
rent, living in his childhood house his parents gave up after winning the lotto in Vegas, but he felt
his co-workers hated him just because of his position, and loathed him even further because off his
living situation. No one talked to him. But it didn't matter. More than half of them were kids who
had just graduated high school, and most of the rest were old farts in their 60's. The older ones at
least tried to be civil to him, responding politely but never actually initiating a conversation, but the
kids didn't even give him the time of day when he asked, just pointing to a clock on the wall if
there was one nearby, and shrugging their shoulders if there wasn't, even if they were wearing a
watch. Upstart little punks. The only one he liked there was Irene. She was a little younger than
him, he'd guess her early 20's. She had brown hair, blue eyes, and a smile that lit up the room like
a flashbang. He'd guess she was about 5'9", he didn't care about her weight, but she was slim.
Most "normal" guys would probably consider her a 7 or 8. To Lucas, she was above being scaled. She was a quiet girl, though. Didn't care for conversation, which was
a shame. There was an air of intelligence about her, an air of concentration. When she did speak,
she knew what she was talking about, and if there was a problem, she knew what she was going
to do.
She was off today, though. Dammit.
As he toweled himself off, he looked in the mirror, wiping away the steam. He needed to shave.
He decided to go clean-shaven. That's when he felt the least self-concious, plus the added bonus
of not itching.
Lucas was not meant to have facial hair.
He had timed the sunrise perfectly, whether it was by luck or fate he did not care. All that
mattered is that the sun rose to the Ninth's chorus. And it was marvelous, standing shirtless in the
bitter cold. He ran his finger over a shrapnel scar on his chest, put there by a haji grenade. He was
lucky that day. If that shrapnel had gone a quarter-inch further, he'd have died a slow, painful
death bleeding out.
His sternum had blocked it, and there was no permanant damage other than a small-ish scar.
He checked the time. 0633. He had work in two hours.
He strapped his watch on. It was the same one he wore while he served. He wore it on his left
wrist, 12 facing the palm. He wore it like that in his service days so he could check the time while
keeping his rifle in the "Up-ready" position. He still wore it like that, just because he liked it that
way.

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Alright, so, I'm not an animator, and I have neither the talent nor resources to be one, but if I'm going to enlist the help of one, I should probably know if I can get what I want at all.
So, first off, how complicated can you get with Flash? Can you do things like play with focus, or do you need a separate program for that? How hard is it to do?
Also, what is a reasonable amount of pay for, say, a 9 minute animation of reasonable quality? If I'm going to scrounge together some way to pay an animator, I need something to shoot for. On that note, how does the ad revenue system work? Would the rights to any ad revenue generated be a reasonable substitute for an actual paycheck?
As animators, how much control do you expect over your work? How much input should the director have, artistically? Do you give a director much more leeway to send work back if you are getting paid, or is artistic honor a big thing?
Anyways, thank you for taking the time to read this, and hopefully answering my questions; and if anyone's interested, PM me for details. I hope to be working with some of you soon.

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I'm looking for russian male voices. Not just the accent, I would need you comfortable speaking bits and pieces of the language.
If you can, muffle your voic as if coming from a gas mask. PM me for sides.

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Out of what I've fired, the M1 Garand.

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My advice is to come up with a middle and ending before thinking of props.

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Fuck all of you, SWAT was the best

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Dude, you misspelled steel, you misspelled the EASY way to spell it.

Also, if this is real, why would you buy a stainless steel Glock to kill yourself with? Shoulda gotten a Hi-Point. Then again, you're probably twelve, don't have access to guns, and this is just poetry, or a cry for a attention.

Also, too rhymed to be real, in my humble opinion. Why even leave fucking suicide notes? Just makes people hurt, and you won't be there to relish in it.

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Star Wars: Republic Commando needs a mention.

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At 7/18/10 03:25 AM, CaptinChu wrote: Dang, protoAuthor. That's really, really good. Have you read the Screenwriter's Bible, perchance?

No, I've read a few other ones, and taken a screenwriting class, though. Also, thank you.

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At 7/16/10 11:58 AM, DeeBOY12 wrote:Lil D AKA #1ZOLDIER/

Just to warn you, that was so terribly written, that I am going to transpose the lyrics to make fun of you. I'm still trying to decide exactly how to parody you.

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Hateful comments? OH NOSE! I have been E-Wounded! I shall now kill myself and my family!

Seriously, Youtube has a delete function, you stupid fucks.

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Kids in the Hall was superior, but I consider this a worthy successor.

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Fucking gay vampires.

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At 7/15/10 01:36 AM, link-011 wrote: Mandatory Naruto sucks post

If it sucked, I'd like it. It's just terrible.

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At 7/12/10 11:13 PM, LaForge wrote:

At 7/12/10 11:10 PM, Acid-Paradox wrote: This thread was made like 4 months ago , and my answer will stay the same:

HOY DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!! "Yeahiey!!"

Dio or Killswitch though?

Fuck Killswitch. Dio all the way.

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I'd want them to puppeteer my body to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme.

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I'm writing a few original scripts, if you want to animate them...

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Mind if I give a shot at re-writing it?

Fade in:

Int. Assassin HQ

MILES SANCHEZ, 25, heads into a seedy bar that serves as the HQ for an assassin organization. He keeps his hand close to his hip, noticing men LEERING at him menacingly.

Bartender

Keep it in your holster, buddy. These fellas mean no harm to ya.

Miles

Thanks, but I-

BARTENDER

Don't trust me? Good. You shouldn't. Shouldn't trust anyone in this business. Guy's waitin' for you at that table in the corner.

He POINTS him to the corner. A man in an expensive suit is waiting for him. Miles walks over and sits down.

Miles

I heard you had a stray dog you needed put down.

Suit

Please, don't be so formal. There aren't any cops or bugs in here. I need a man killed. Are you up to it?

Miles

My fee is 10,000 up front, and another 10,000 when I'm through.

Suit

A good price, considering your target.

The suit SLIDES a folder across the table.

Suit

Jonathan Cardenas. Also known as "The Glass Eye".

Miles

He get one shot out or something?

Suit

No, Mr. Sanchez. The name is meant to suggest that the scope is his eye. He's never missed. Never used more than three shots on a target, though he's armed with a Knight's Armament SR-25. 7.62 by 51 millimeter, suppressed, with a full-auto sear.

miles

How do you know that?

The suit GRINS.

Suit

Because that's what we armed him with. He's likely to have other weapons, but that is what he prefers. All the data you should need is in that folder. Good luck. Your deadline is three days from now.

The suit gets up and leaves.

Int. Warehouse

A chessboard sits on a table, the game ended in a checkmate. It's the only thing lit. A hand comes from the dark, and starts setting the game up again.

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I wanna be/ the very best...

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Also, what self-respecting assassin uses a damn revolver? You can't suppress 'em unless they're custom-built to accept suppressors, their capacities pale in comparison to even sub-compact automatics, they're usually bulkier than automatics, etc, etc.

Give him an automatic, fer chrissake!
You can put one round in the mag if you want to duel.

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At 7/11/10 02:32 AM, Ass-Crumb wrote: and then it's all like BA BOOM mel gibson BA BOOM the dam BA BOOM this summer

That's a movie, stupid.