Here's a new shot, from The Last Crown - Blackenrock, for
#screenshotsaturday
Ulcombe Church, along the coast path from Saxton, where Nigel Danvers will face a dilemma. And a ghost.
An eclectic work-load at present. I always think this part
of a game dev project is a little like moving house; most things, important
things, are neatly packed and catalogued, but there's always a random
collection of odds and ends, which defy categorisation. This is the moment the LISTS get deployed. Lists of
everything. Missing sounds! Missing gfx! Missing cursors! Missing characters! Yes,
there's quite a bit of wrapping up, but it's steady, satisfying work, with the
finish line in sight.
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| Hello to new friends. Sorry for radio silence this last week. Got my head down, completing a lot of script to screen. |
Jonathan Boakes
Looking towards the future, both the Crown and the Dark Fall
games will benefit from some brand new, totally unique art objects. A new found
fascination with 3D objects is partly inspired by the Ethan Carter blogs, but
mostly from following Matt Clark [Shadow Tor Studios] around the moor scanning
standing stones and barrows (thanks Matt!).
The image shows the remains of the Gold Mine, on Bodmin Moor, with Twelve Men's Tor in the far distance. A day on the moor is never disappointing, especially in dramatic weather. Drama that day was supplied by clouds and unbroken views for several miles.
The archaeology work is great, and
very scientific, but I like fiction! So, it'll be interesting to photograph
some well known, maybe even over familiar, sites and give them a new, dramatic
setting in an adventure game. The Crown games will remain 2.5D till the (very)
bitter end, but the next Dark Fall is 3D, with eyes on VR, so I need beautiful and
creepy things to look at. As a one-man-band most of the time, it's really
daunting to imagine creating a whole worlds worth of STUFF. So, let's see what
the real world can offer…
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Captured some lovely urns today, a lot of detail you don't notice with the eye. |
We've been experimenting with 3d props a lot in recent
weeks. It's great to be able to pick a suitable object, from landscape and
buildings, and capture it for use in narrative. It sounds like a cliché, but
you really do see more detail once an item is singled out, so dramatically,
from the world.
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| I'm looking to travel a bit, next year, and capture some stuff. 3D scanning is really good now. |
After some basic experiments, capturing urns and statues at
Mount Edgcumbe, we've moved onto bigger things. Whole chunks of landscape, like
the rocks at Hannafore (Pinnacles, TLC1), and detailed statues and memorials
like Old Nick (Sir John Colshull, Duloe) are really impressive in 3D. It's also
a bit creepy too, to know that they're real items and places. I don’t know why,
but I find it quite eerie.
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| 3d scans allow me to present familar objects from any angle, both these views are impossible with a convential cam. |
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| Beautiful day in Looe. Spot of gardening while Old Nick sorts out his 22 million pixels. Then, poly crunch time! |
It goes without saying that you really can see things from a
different perspective, with a 3D version. As the DOP, I suppose, on the TLC
games I am always looking to photograph things to maximise impact, to create
something picturesque. So, being able to jiggle things around, and transpose
objects is a real plus.
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| Matthew, where is Charlotte, and wherefore has she flown? For you walked out together, and now are come alone. |
Lastly, I've let this pic slip to the bottom, as I thought
I'd include the poem/ballad that inspired it. It’s a dark tale of murder, on
the Cornish Moors, beautifully written with a few dark twists. I know the Ager and
Crown legends are Anglia based, and Cornwall has NOTHING to do with it, but I'm
being honest when I say that Emily's unfortunate death, in the Saxton Caverns TLC1,
was very much influenced by this sorry tale. It never fails to give me
goosebumps.
The Ballad of Charlotte Dymond
It was a Sunday
evening
And in the April
rain
That Charlotte went from our
house
And never came
home again.
Her shawl of
diamond redcloth,
She wore a yellow
gown,
She carried the
green gauze handkerchief
She bought in
Bodmin town.
About her throat
her necklace
And in her purse
her pay:
The four silver
shillings
She had at Lady
Day.
In her purse four
shillings
And in her purse
her pride
As she walked out
one evening
Her lover at her
side.
Out beyond the
marshes
Where the cattle
stand,
With her crippled
lover
Limping at her
hand.
Charlotte walked with Matthew
Through the Sunday
mist,
Never saw the
razor
Waiting at his
wrist.
Charlotte she was gentle
But they found her
in the flood
Her Sunday beads
among the reeds
Beaming with her
blood.
Matthew, where is Charlotte,
And wherefore has
she flown?
For you walked out
together
And now are come
alone.
Why do you not
answer,
Stand silent as a
tree,
Your Sunday
worsted stockings
All muddied to the
knee?
Why do you mend
your breast-pleat
With a rusty
needle’s thread
And fall with
fears and silent tears
Upon your single
bed?
Why do you sit so
sadly
Your face the
colour of clay
And with a green
gauze handkerchief
Wipe the sour
sweat away?
Has she gone to
Blisland
To seek an easier
place,
And is that why
your eye won’t dry
And blinds your
bleaching face?
Take me home!
cried Charlotte,
‘I lie here in the
pit!
A red rock rests
upon my breasts
And my naked neck
is split!’
Her skin was soft
as sable,
Her eyes were wide
as day,
Her hair was
blacker than the bog
That licked her
life away;
Her cheeks were
made out of honey,
Her throat was
made of flame
Where all around
the razor
Had written its
red name.
As Matthew turned
at Plymouth
About the tilting
Hoe,
The cold and
cunning constable
Up to him did go:
‘I’ve come to take
you, Matthew,
Unto the
magistrate’s door.
Come quiet now,
you pretty poor boy,
And you must know
what for.’
‘She is as pure,’
cried Matthew,
‘As is the early
dew,
Her only stain it
is the pain
That round her
neck I drew!
‘She is as
guiltless as the day
She sprang forth
from her mother.
The only sin upon
her skin
Is that she loved
another.’
They took him off
to Bodmin,
They pulled the
prison bell,
They sent him
smartly up to heaven
And dropped him
down to hell.
All through the
granite kingdom
And on its
travelling airs
Ask which of these
two lovers
The most deserves
your prayers.
And your steel
heart search, Stranger,
That you may pause
and pray
For lovers who
come not to bed
Upon their wedding
day,
But lie upon the
moorland
Where stands the
sacred snow
Above the
breathing river,
And the salt
sea-winds go.
Charles Causley
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| Looe Island, today (May 23rd) |