#vidrart

My favourite thing about this podcast was the atmosphere; each haunting story explained to the visitor by a compassionate interactive audio guide that would then kindly ask them to incinerate it as per protocol. To say anything else could mean major spoilers past Season 1, but [insert passionate screeching of an elusive jungle bird].

A little bit about the game

What I wanted to capture was disappointment. Expert tools and brilliant ideas with no experience to properly execute them. The late wisdom of a young human who just tore apart an insect, only to recognise it not as science or art, but a simple act of cruelty. What's done is done. What will you do with the parts?

A little bit about the fandom

Wow. Listening alongside you folks was a treat. I love it when people are so overwhelmed they can barely articulate how they feel about The Character and, at the same time, it has been so refreshing to see all the essays that fit into a Tumblr text post. There are some I keep recalling whenever I think about this or that part of the story. And the art? The compositions, the imagery? Looking at and reading your works is when I become the inarticulate one.

A little bit about The Silt Verses

It all started with the sound design. Then came the monologues that could knock out a horse, then the raw realism of the character interactions... By the time I realised the worldbuilding heavily featured political economy along with the religious themes, I was already reeled in (pun fully intended). This audio drama got me through the last of my public education, inspiring me to push myself artistically even alongside the often exhausting academic demands. To never stop observing and, slowly, to open my own mouth.

People love her, people hate her; either way outlived by her. Congregants, 'tis Carpenter!

A fine yellow fabric with gold threads and a gold pin. After the gala, it will be put up at auction, the proceeds going to the Riften Temple of Mara, which made the creation of this item possible in the first place.

More than his outfit, his energy preceded this guest. Some people are like the winter sun or a volcano heating up the thermal waters on the surface. He radiated a kind of intentional warmth. Some people are like mighty forges or cozy hearths. If I had to guess, Erandur would be the campfire kept alive the whole night through.

There has been an abundance of metaphorical rain in this priest's metaphorical night. It is not uncommon for devotees of Mara to walk the darker side of life before dedicating themselves to her service, but each story has its unique twists. "At times like this, I often catch myself wondering how different my life would be, had Her light not found me when it did," he said mostly to himself, eyes damp after he had approved his portrait. The next moment, his soft features stiffened into a look of petrified terror; he must have spotted something or someone over my shoulder. "Please excuse me."

I have updates on the Herma-Mora situation. I am now almost entirely sure it is not his doing.

Shortly after, a fight broke out in the Dark Brotherhood group (covered on Middas) over the funds allocated to Vaba-daro's gown. Half of them expressed concern over making ends meet, while the others suggested absurd ideas such as the Emperor no longer being among the living.

The situation became unmanagable for me once my assistant has spotted a second version of himself. An Altmer of the same height, complexion, hair color and even facial structure stood at the other end of the room, chatting with the Visca girls who were ready to swear on their family name that he had been there the whole time. This impersonator had no sign of mischief on his surprised and slightly gaunt face.

Suddenly tasked with pacifying two self-conscious assistants, I barely noticed a certain Khajiit sneaking out of the ballroom hand-in-hand with a young mer lady. Her controversial attire was replaced by a simple charcoal gray overall trimmed in golden yellow.

As an independent journalist, I felt justified suspecting tasteless humor, intimidation, even poisoning. Looking over my shoulder, I could once again see the Listener and her company arguing with each other. As if nothing happened. With no guards in sight, I scrambled to find the nearest Bosmeri individual, who happened to be Lady Ithruen. Seeing her wearing the same draped dress was somewhat reassuring. She checked me for hallucinogenics and found absolutely nothing.

Repeat after me. 'I do not relate to Spontaneous Combustion Messiah. Spontaneous Combustion Messiah couldn't possibly be relatable to anyone. The combustion wasn't even all that spontaneous.'

I just really like Ursula K. Le Guin. Okay, it's a bit more than that.

The Magnus Archives was the first audio drama I have ever finished. I have some defining memories of listening to it along with Welcome to Night Vale; both of them made an otherwise difficult period in my life much more bearable. Annabelle was one of the characters I related to the most and, for a long time, among the few expressly feminine cosplays I could comfortably do.

I used to exclusively draw her with a mohawk and a web pattern either shaved into her hair or braided into cornrows. I don't think I have ever properly considered the impact of her head injury between MAG 69 and MAG 194, though. Since the former option might be painful and unsanitary (short hairs easily falling in) and the latter would be that and an actual nightmare to maintain on one's own (I suspect most braiders would be put off by the opening in her skull covered in increasingly plentiful webs), I now present you the compromise of Hair Technically Long Enough in the Middle to Cover the Large Hole in My Head if That's What I Wanted.