Cryptic band name quiz! You have to guess what band or artist the picture represents. I made a bunch of these about ten years ago for a now defunct website. Found them again on a forgotten hard drive.
Guess what? I’m learning Unity! A guy at work recommended it to me and I’ve been playing about with it for the last two weeks. The interface is intuitive, and there’s some good tutorials that walk you through what to do. It’s pretty great; if you already know C# you can start coding right away.
For a learning project, I made Tetris. All the sprites were copied from the Game Boy game, and I tried to match that version in terms of mechanics as well. It’s a pretty decent port, I think.
There are a few graphics issues and there’s no sound, but it’s not bad for two weeks newbie work. You can play it in your browser here.
My Daddy brought his company’s iPad home for the weekend. It is the iPad that he uses to demonstrate his product to his clients. It had an app installed called “My Scrapbook” or something, but what it didn’t have was password protection. I hope my Daddy’s clients will appreciate this scrapbook that I made for them, and that it will inspire them to buy my Daddy’s very important products.
Scratchy rectangle shapes. Lines with origin and destination points that are subtly randomised around a point. Creates a naturalistic cross-hatching effect. For the shape on the left in the first image, the borders are drawn before the fill. For the shape on the right, the borders are drawn after the fill. (I’ll post the code when it’s a bit more tidy.)
Crouched by bluebells,
Stumbling and floundering,
I saw his eyes close.
Distant rest began to work its own death.
One dies of war trudge.
Dead men tried to peg out soldierly fatigue;
A scarlet ferry across the channel
Bent double like time.
All went lame but limped on,
Deaf even to the trudge.
His hanging face, him drowning.
The magnificent recession of
Disappointed froth-corrupted farewell.
We in Paradise are cursed and hurting.
In your fifty smothering dreams, you too.
Can’t shake hands now.
Less life than white existence.
Even microbes have their backs
Towards our sev’rance.
If in some prejudiced parts
When I’m lugged gargling from the dust,
Bitter as the devil’s sick
And ripped from far Nirvana…
With my every jolt
Being the wind,
Nothing more than air…
Must I be his load?
— Let’s die home
With any old disease
And miss the drowning.
We’d hate to live dead.
Cut-up based on 14 poems by Wilfred Owen.