This is a fun little puzzle to solve!
I'm not very good at the garment art and the blood dripping does funny things, but it's good enough for an animated gif when the time comes. Maybe I'll clean that up a little. So to speak. He's more fulla blood than a non-stop communion-wine intake would allow, but more blood means a more satisfying way to conceal how crappy the underlying mechanics really are.
What remains is to section his head into little chunks that fly off in the appropriate directions, give or take a little directionality because we like random effects. There are two eyeballs in there; they start out their lives right by our Poop's eye sockets. There's a nice explosion of blood triggered, and I'll be darned if those particle explosion thingies don't have adjustable gravity attached to them which makes the whole thing a little more disgusting. Yet satisfying. For additional gore I have a few chunks of meaty coyote-skull that'll have to serve as the contents of the Poop's brain. I regret not finding a jackal.
Oh and happy St. Valentine's Day Massacre to you all!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
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16 comments:
That happens every time someone reads from Paul's First Letter to the Scanners.
Kind of reminds me of the Black Knight.
It's just a flesh wound!
yeah, it's gonna be a massacre if someone doesn't drop off a check today.
I come here for the exploding pope heads. I stay for the romance.
I love how fastidious you are about your work.
Just as long as there are no contraceptives involved!!
There is absolutely some Black Knight in there. I wish Terry Gilliam had had the stuff I'm fiddling with now. His stuff could have been so much crazier than I can imagine.
And I suppose the worrying thing is that even while I'm piddling around adjusting the Z-axis velocity of blurred orbs I cackle when the head explodes again.
I should not be trusted with the death ray. Cancel the Acme order.
Cancel the Acme order.
There will be a restocking fee.
On second thought ship me the death ray.
da da da da da da, da-da
Today is my birthday
da da da da da da, da-da
I'm 51 years old
da da da da da da, da-da
It's a clumsy number.
it's fifty and then some
I'm celebrating Sir Ernie Shackleton's birthday bow chicka wow Where is that music coming from? I'm celebrating Mr. Shackleton's birthday tomorrow.
My birthday won't mean anything until my present gets here. Is that course, or what? Never cared much for my birthday anyway (everyone was worried about their date or lack of one) and once you've aged a year thirty or forty times it gets old. But I do like to hear "happy birthday"--- it has that "glad you're alive" vibe among friends.
on topic: kill the pope. Graphically. What else is there to do?
Happy birthday Wiley. May all popes explode to your liking.
Wiley, happy birthday!
Thank you. Thank you. Of all the years I've survived, the last one has a special place in my pantheon of "WTF is it NOW?"
What fresh hell is this?
What fresh hell is this?
Seems like plain ole regular hell to me.
Happy birthday wiley.
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