BEHOLD
"BUT, HATBOY," you groan, your eyes going glassy, "THIS IS JUST A BORING SPREADSHEET." To which I reply, "WHY YES, MY ALL-CAPS SHOUTING FRIEND. IT WOULD APPEAR THAT WAY TO THE UNTRAINED EYE." I muster what I think is a friendly expression, but is probably actually just crazed; my own eyes still glassy from spreadsheet mayhem. "THIS DUMB SPREADSHEET GIVES MODDERS THE POWER TO USE THE SAME RULES FOR LIP-SYNC AS BIOWARE USED THEMSELVES." I slam my fist on the desk to keep your wavering attention. A mug shatters. I do not seem to notice. "BASICALLY, WHAT I WAS DOING BEFORE WAS A HACKY BULLSHIT UNINTUITIVE WORKAROUND THAT NOBODY ELSE COULD REASONABLY BE EXPECTED TO REPLICATE BECAUSE IT WAS FUSSY AND STUPID AND REQUIRED KNOWLEDGE OF HOW THE SYSTEM INTERPRETS CURVES THAT I DOUBT ANYONE ELSE WANTS TO LEARN," I shout, my eyes unseeing, gesturing at no one. "I HAVE NOW MADE IT SO THAT ANY MONKEY WITH THE RIGHT VERSION OF UDK CAN DO IT, AND IT WILL LOOK EVEN CLOSER TO VANILLA THAN WHAT I HAVE ALREADY PUT OUT THERE." "Are you going to be redoing the lip-sync for the lines you've already done, then?" You ask, nervously licking your lips. "A REASONABLE QUESTION!" I crow. "NO." "Does this work with any character?" "ANYTHING WITH A HUMANOID FACE," I mutter, staring intently at a crumb on my desk. "IT SAYS HUMAN MALE, BUT HONESTLY, THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE CHARTS FOR MALES, FEMALES, ASARI, AND BOTH SHEPARDS ARE KINDA NEGLIGIBLE, EVEN THOUGH THERE ARE DIFFERENCES." "I see. Are you going to do the charts for them, then?" "... MAYBE. I AM KNOWN TO BE DETAIL ORIENTED THAT WAY. I WILL DEFINITELY DO THE HUMAN MALE ONE FOR ME2, HOWEVER, BECAUSE IT'S DIFFERENT THAN THE RULES FOR ME3 AND I WANT PEOPLE DOING NEW AUDIO FOR ME2 TO HAVE ACCESS TO THIS SYSTEM WITH AS MUCH ACCURACY AS POSSIBLE." "What about turians and krogans and salarians?" "I WANT PIZZA," I shriek. I draw my knees up to my chin, sitting like some feral animal, hunched over the keyboard glowing multi-coloured in the darkness of the room. It is past one in the morning. Frothing at the mouth, I recline in my chair at last, going wall-eyed and still. "Uh, when was the last time you ate?" You ask. "I DON'T KNOW. I'LL DEAL WITH IT IN A MINUTE."
