#term2

Somebody doo somthing plssss aghanabbababB

This is a colour study that I was inspired by when colouring my Alter Ego character. I love the way the character is transformed with the colours and style of outfit. The red one is poised, kind of shows a strong figure in the character. The colour red definitely helps this feature as it makes the character stand out; and even though the dress is the same in all the drawings the green makes the dress suddenly look a whole lot more droopy. Thus, making the character appear more helpless. Overall, I love the style and complete composition of the work by Byron Howard. I think he has a great way of capturing the characters in way that enhances their personality while creating a simple colour palette that is harmonious.

Term 2 Break Project - TV Series/Movie Spin-off(?)

One thing Kevin had learned very early on, back when he was a young intern with a spring in his step and hair on the top of his head, was that you couldn’t really escape the generators. They hummed at a low frequency, low enough that you weren’t quite aware of them when you were at work, but always present. At first, when he went home at the end of the day, he would feel a startling release when he left the lab. Like the shock of cold when a warm blanket is taken away. But these days, he took that blanket with him out of the lab, into his car, home to his apartment. The low, vibrating hum was always there, nestled into the crevices of his brain. He spent more and more time at the lab these past few years, and he’d come to accept the generators would never leave him. He would be an old man, lying on his deathbed, and the Kyoto-Marcel 16Hz Power Generator Series 4B would be there at his bedside. He didn’t mind. It was like a friend, like like a hand resting on his shoulder. The hum vibrated along his teeth- right at the back by his molars- as he made coffee. The machine coughed in a sickly way and stopped dribbling for a moment. He gave it a slap, and the steady pat-pat of coffee resumed. Scientific breakthrough of the century and we can’t even get working coffee makers, he thought. He gave a dirty mug in the sink a cursory rinse and refilled it, then made his way outside to the lab proper. Treading carefully over a coil of wires, he stepped over to where Dr. Jensen was sitting, hunched in front of a computer console. Blue light glinted off her dark hair and reflected in her irises. She was running through the simulation again. Checking for bugs? He handed her his coffee and she took it wordlessly, drank half of it in one go, and handed it back. He set it on top of her console. “Sleep?” “No.” Dr Jensen was young. She’d been on this project only six years. She had more dedication than anyone, except maybe him. He glanced at the lines of code on her screen, only half understanding her rapid commands. Her fingers hammered on the keys with undue force, and the sound of her typing echoed up to the ceiling, which was strung with cables, all running into the twelve cylindrical generators. Good old Kyoto-Marcels. When he’d started, there’d been two, and no wires. Now you could barely see any of the gunmetal walls. Turns out creating a wormhole means using a lot of energy. Dr. Jensen punched one key with enough vigor that he looked down. She leaned back with satisfaction. “Look at that.” He peered at the screen, where several lines of code were blinking. “It works, Kevin.” She smiled with cautious pride. “No counting chickens, Jensen.” She scoffed. “I ran through it four times tonight. The chickens have hatched. And they work.” He raised an eyebrow at her metaphor. “First things first, it’s morning.” He handed her his watch, and she peered at it. “Damn, look at that. Could have sworn it was three.” Then, “Wait-” “Launch soon.” She took a deep breath. “God. Can you believe it?” He looked up at the jungle-like tangle of wires hanging just over their heads, carrying power to the generators. In the flickering light, they look half-alive, like blood-vessels strung up to twelve hearts. The lab was one creature, all the computers and databanks and monitors its organs, the deep, rattling hum it’s sleeping breath. “No.” he said. Dr. Jensen stood up and stretched, blocking his view. She reached up to tug at her ponytail, her eyes bright, somehow, despite her lack of sleep. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? After all these years, it’s today.” The elastic snapped into her hand, and she shook her dark hair loose. “I can’t wait.” He nodded, reserved, and reclaimed his coffee cup from where she’d set it down. “Well, I’d better go talk to Dr. Amundsen about setting up a camera.” she said, and began to collect her scattered papers from her station. He nods again, lost in thought. He hadn’t really processed it until now- that after today, everything would be different. No more long nights at the lab, no more black coffee and tinkering with the switchboards. No more listening to the hum of the generators. He ran his hand over the top of one data storage unit to his left- very close to Dr. Jensen’s monitor, not up to code. If the experiment worked, there would be inspectors, cameras, reporters. The floor hummed under his feet with new intensity. They must be powering up the generators for launch. The lights were still off to save power, and in the gloom, they seem monolithic and massive, pulling all the energy in the room towards them. He felt caught up in their flow, as if he too was wired into them by a  cable. He took off his shoes and flexed his sock feet on the floor. The vibrations ran through his body. What if he never felt this again? What if he’s removed from the initiative after the launch? It’s not uncommon, and they’ll need to save money. They had practically enough power to light a city in here. The fluorescent lights flickered on, and he heard Dr. Amundsen’s voice over the intercom. “Alright, launch is in five minutes. Please return to the observation booth.” He looked over his shoulder, where Amundsen’s bearded face scowled from the glassed-in booth above him. It’s all so soon. He placed his shoes carefully on the databank beside him, and padded up to Generator 8, the closest to him. He had to tread carefully over the wiring, as well as mugs and books that had been left on the floor.  Under the harsh light, 8 glinted. It’s a massive steel and nickel cylinder, several feet taller than him and roughly the width of a door turned sideways. The sides were riddled with small ports trailing cable, and patched with bolts and panels where the machine has been opened, dissected, and re-sewn shut again. He placed his hand on it, and it's warm. Here, the rumbling was deepest- the power levels were at their highest yet in preparation for launch. They were waking the creature. He'd never stood next to the machines while they were on full power, and it was disconcerting, but also exciting.  There was so much power here,  and so much life. He set both hands on 8, and felt the vibrations run through his bones. Behind him,  Amundsen’s voice rang out.  “Kevin! Get in the booth!” He looked up at Generator 8. He looked at the glass booth behind him. He looked at the coils of wire running over the floor and ceiling.   He closed his eyes and felt the deep, baritone hum of the generators working. And, very quietly, he opened his eyes and broke off a blue cable connected to the machine, shattering the plastic surrounding the port. He turned around. No one had seen. His shoes were still on the databank, and he slipped them back on before continuing up the winding staircase to the observation booth.Inside, Dr Amundsen, Dr Wen, and Dr Markus were jammed together. Dr Markus nodded hello. He scooted in, and took his seat at the front. Dr Jensen was perched on the central monitor. She waved at him, her eyes sparkling, and grinned wordlessly. He waved back. “All right, folks,” Dr Amundsen muttered. He gave Kevin a pointed look. “Glad we're all here. Launch in three, two, one...” Dr. Jensen took a sharp breath. “Now.” He pressed enter on his command. The generators wailed. He saw the plexiglass separating them wobble. The lights flickered in the booth. Five years of careful science and algorithms channeling and directing all that power, diverting it carefully, precisely. It was working. He felt a terrible, sick tension in the base of his throat. Beside him,  Dr. Amundsen’s gaze was steady and unblinking. It's working. The generators screamed, louder, louder, power growing.  There's no hum, he realises, panicking.  There's no hum, just the high-pitched screech of machines working too hard. Then,  suddenly, it's over. A warning signal blared,  just before a shower of sparks burst from Generator 8. The booth lit up red with warning lights, and Kevin’s ears rang.  Dr Wen, laser-focused, typed madly. Dr Jensen pressed her hand against the glass. The automatic sprinkler system went off, and the doctor leaned back in his chair. It’s over. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It's safe. Through the soles of his feet, he fet the everyday vibrations of the remaining eleven generators return. “All right, folks. No wormhole, huh?” Amundsen murmured Jensen snapped back to life.“Maybe it was the capacitor.” “Possible. Or an error in my calculations.” said Markus. “Not likely, Steve.” The room hums with chatter as they file out, back to the whiteboards and computer sims. He sips his coffee, and flexes his feet in his shoes. One more year of work, and one after that, and one after that, maybe.  Another year,  at least. Another year.

my character model sheet from history and principles of animation. his name is Len. may 2024

i made this stylized bmw e30 for my hard surface class and textured it for texturing and shading. still insane that i did this. never modeled a vehicle in my entire damn life. still working on final textures for it i fucking HATE what i turned in. June 2024

my avfx1 final. did not spend enough time on it once again but it was pretty fucking funny. June 2024