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Topics - Sirrus

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1
Creativity / i am drunk
« on: September 07, 2014, 02:01:26 AM »
i will field any questions about art for the next as long as I remain awake.

what do y'all question

2
Off Topic / It's my birthday, you guys
« on: November 26, 2013, 11:45:32 PM »



I turned 19 today. I started playing this game when I was 13. lol seriously wtf.

but ya anyway have some cake it's a party jeeze

3
Creativity / A story I'm kicking around
« on: February 17, 2013, 06:04:48 PM »
This is a short story I've started. Tell me what you guys think.

March 26th

Stephen Levitt was having an existential crCIA, though he didn't think to call it that, at least not at first. All Stephen Levitt was having so far was a very bad day.
It was March the 26th. March the 26th was the arbitrary day his girlfriend had set, telling herself that if things didn't improve, if Stephen didn't become more loving and wonderful, she would break up with him. She did just that, when Stephen came unwittingly to pick her up for the evening's festivities, all he got from her was the vague assertion that "things weren't working out" and an abruptly closed door.

Stephen was flummoxed to be sure, but he couldn't be too down on himself becaus March 26th was the meticulously planned day the Hughland-Dewey award recipient was announced. It was the scholarship that Stephen had fastidiously completed every piece of work given to him in highschool in order to receive. It guaranteed he could attend the college of his dreams, a goal which would be hard pressed to achieve otherwise given his family's limited affluence. Stephen and his father left early for the awards banquet, his mother and sister came afterwards , closer to the start.

Stephen and his family sat up front with the other top contenders for the award. Flanked by his parents, sitting in his rented tuxedo, he endured speech after speech which went on at length to describe the history of the award, the values it represented, the successes of past recipients. "Just one more hoop to jump through, all this work comes down to this." Stephen thought inwardly, retaining his stoic outward appearance. "I've come this far, done this much, I can wait just a bit longer."

His thoughts were interrupted by the MC. "And now we're ready for what you've all come for tonight, we're ready to announce this recipient of this year's Hughland-Dewey award!".

Stephen's father leaned over and whispered in his son's ear. "Son, no matter what happens your mother and I are very proud of all the work you've done."
Stephen appreciated his father's sentiment, but he was confident in his chances. He'd done every iota of work he'd been given to perfect, he volunteered, he tutored students, he'd become everything the award asked him to become and Stephen was confident. Some said confident to the point of arrogance, but it depends on who you asked.

The MC's voice climaxed "and the winner is...!"

Not Stephen.

He was halfway through standing up to accept the award that just a few moments prior he thought was rightfully his. He went limp in his seat, his parents groaned. The full gravity of his disappointment they would never know, and the full depth of his anger and confusion was hitting him in the first tidal wave, with many aftershocks to come.

The rest of the evening was blurry to Stephen, his parents trying to reassure him, his friends offering passing commiseration via text message and pats on the back from the ones that were there. He floated along in a stormy mood, each thought of how to restructure the next four years of his life accompanied with a lighting bolt flash of frustration and residual shock from losing the award. Ultimately, Stephen was trying to regain control of the ship that was his life, battling high seas of compounding surprises that March the 26th was bringing.

Later at home, he had slipped out of his shoes and was doting over his jacket and pants, being careful to not scuff the rental when he heard the first lucid sentence since the MC had seemingly stolen the award out of his hands.

"Stephen, did mom or Jenn mention anything to you about stopping to do errands or anything on the way home? They left before us but still aren't home yet."
"No, I don't know where they might be." Stephen replied, shrugging.

Elsa and Jenn Levitt were, at the time, being rushed to the city hospital because March 26th was the date on, for no particular reason, at 9:17 a drunk driver blasted through a stop sign and struck the car of Elsa and Jenn Levitt on their way home from an award ceremony for their son and little brother, respectively. Elsa and Jenn would go on to survive, only narrowly though. The drunk driver fled the scene, but went on to never be identified or captured by the police.
March the 26th was the day when Stephen Levitt realized he had no control over his life, and it was the day after which he was forced to learn what it meant to pick up the pieces of what was once so meticulously, intricately placed.

4
Games / Antichamber
« on: February 12, 2013, 06:18:03 PM »

Holy stuff. This game is loving incredible.  It's almost pointless to try and describe it. Just, go buy it. And play it. And have your mind forgeted.

Anyone else been enjoying this stuff?

Game's website: http://www.antichamber-game.com/
It's also on Steam. Get on that.

5
Creativity / Sirrus is selling prints!
« on: February 08, 2013, 03:16:43 PM »
I have 20 of them. I will ship them to you.

Here's a picture of three of them:



They're 11x14, matted on 16x20 black matboard with backing and then slipped into a clear plastic sleeve. They're ready to be framed, you could also buy mat clips from some knida craft store and hang them with just the backing and matting. Price is $40-80 depending on the print and before shipping (haven't looked at that yet.)

If there's interest I'll upload the rest of them, but atm I have to go to work. Shoot me a message if you'd like to know more!

6
Creativity / Insomnia drawings
« on: January 06, 2013, 04:40:30 AM »
I got home at 4:30 this morning and I need to be up at 8, so, I figured instead of torturing myself with three hours of sleep I'd just wait it out. Sooo I'm watching episodes of Louie and doing these abstract drawings.

1st-


2nd-


3rd-

7
Off Topic / Merry Christmas, you lot
« on: December 25, 2012, 09:03:38 AM »
2 In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while[a] Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to their own town to register.

4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, ďDo not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.Ē

13 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

14 ďGlory to God in the highest heaven,
    and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.Ē
15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ďLetís go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.Ē

16 So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 17 When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

21 On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived.

8
Games / Steam Christmas Sale: 'tis the season for consumerism
« on: December 15, 2012, 11:29:01 AM »

December 20th to January 3rd


What are you all looking to get this xmas season?

I'm going to try and pick up FC3 for myself and Skyrim for my little brother. Plus I'm sure there'll be tons of other games that go on sale for $5 that Steam will convince me to get with their counting down timers and fun little cartoons.

9
Creativity / Trying out a tablet, requests pls.
« on: December 05, 2012, 06:37:21 PM »
Give me some simple stuff to draw, I want to practice with a tablet I'm borrowing from a friend.

10
Off Topic / The Donation
« on: August 02, 2012, 04:17:41 PM »
You know how you sometimes feel like a douche for not donating a dollar to charity?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2dM2cY70k4

12
General Discussion / A call for my saves
« on: March 30, 2012, 07:34:19 PM »
Hi friends! You may know me as "the guy who made Sirrus Military Compound". You may also know me as "Sirrus"! Regardless, I am he, and I need your help.

A long time ago, I used to play Blockland a fair amount. I stopped a long time ago and started primarily posting on the forums, but even that has faded into lurking. I loaded up the forums one day to see some hubub about v21 and wanted to learn more about that so I read up and was fascinated enough to load up Blockland again, even if the update wasn't out.

However, my heart sank realizing that I hadn't migrated all my saves over to my new computer, and the old computer that I used to play Blockland on had crashed, and I may or may not have the hard drive stashed away somewhere. Regardless, I consider all my old saves lost. I would really like to reminisce over some old saves, especially this one: http://forum.blockland.us/index.php?topic=84829.0

If you'd happen to have that save (my NWB application) or any save of mine, or if I built in your server at one point, I'd be much obliged if you could host those for me.

Thanks muchly friends! Have a lovely evening!

13
Off Topic / Sites protesting SOPA
« on: January 18, 2012, 05:24:23 PM »
How many sites have you seen today protesting SOPA and PIPA?

I've seen-

4chan
Asofterworld
cracked
craiglist
destructoid
dinosaurcomics
dresdencodak
google
icanhascheeseburger
imgur
J!nx
lifehacker
livejournal
Minecraft
MLG
Mozilla
occupydc
occupywallstreet
piratebay
Reddit
Wikipedia
Wired
Wordpress
XKCD

I'm compiling a collection of screencaps of websites that are participating. Help a brother out in tracking down as many sites as possible?

14
Drama / loving internet drama
« on: January 07, 2012, 08:20:15 AM »
When the gods smiled upon us and gave us the world wide web back in the 90's, what do you think that there intention was? Do you think that it was the free exchange of ideas and knowledge, to bring about a connectedness that wasn't possible 25, 30 years ago? Or do you think that it was the ability for swarms of bored teenagers to swarm around the stupidest bullstuff on a loving forum to satisfy their need for something interesting in their lives?

I'm so tired of people arguing about literally the most menial stuff ever, and these moronic feuds that crop up that just end up getting feelings hurt and people pissed off. This is not coming from a place of "ugh so tired of seeing this" this is coming from a place of "grow the forget up, go outside, and stop arguing with people on the internet over stupid stuff."

15
This is a little story I wrote a while ago for a white elephant gift exchange. I thought it turned out pretty well so I thought I'd share it with you guys.

        You wake up in the morning just like everyone else. Your alarm rings, and you think ďI should have gotten more sleep last night. That was a really poor choice I made to wait until 11 to go to bed when I knew that I had to get up early in the morning for school.Ē You think about it for a little bit, but decide that further thought isnít of much use. You try to shake the tired off your eyelids as you yawn and swing your legs off of your bed.

          As you adorn yourself with all sorts of colorful fabric stitched together into different shapes and garments, you think about all the stuff youíre about to fill a day with. Thereís school, and then maybe youíre going to talk to some friends. You have some pretty great friends. Friends named Steve, or Clarice, or maybe even Betsy. Betsy is a good friend. Youíve known her since third grade and you two have always gotten along well.

          You pour some cow milk onto your corn flakes and sit down for a heaping bowl of breakfast. Your hands shuttle portions of cereal from the bowl to their demise inside your mouth. ďDonít fret, cornflakes, your anguish is not in vain.Ē You think. Some might say youíre a little too sympathetic towards your cereal, but it doesnít bother you. Youíre a wonderful person. ďYouíre giving me energy to face a grand day; youíre a terrific little cereal.Ē  You idly read about the cereal youíre eating on the back of the box. You see smiling people, they must be happy because theyíre eating cornflakes. You think they should just be happy because theyíre alive, but you finish your cornflakes and donít have time to think about it.

          You go back upstairs, to your desk. Itís a good kind of messy- the kind of messy that shows youíre too busy working on important things to keep your desk clean, but not so messy that folks think youíre an outright slob. You gather up tomes of knowledge and dump them into your backpack. You slip the straps onto your shoulders. Itís not the most comfortable arrangement, but youíre just grateful that you have a backpack full of books that are in turn full of all kinds of knowledge and facts. People always told you that knowledge is power. You just think that knowledge was knowledge, but that doesnít keep it from being pretty wonderful.

          You go to school and learn all about new things and think all sorts of new thoughts. Your English teacher is a sad old man. It seems as if he wakes up every morning and sighs out his sadness, instead of breathing in the new day. He tells your class to read three chapters in Catcher in the Rye for tomorrow and summarize them. So far you find the book deeply fascinating. It seems that Holden has a lot to complain about, but you think his life seems OK. All the kids in your class grumble at the homework that seems to accumulate without fail every day in school. You quietly write down the assignment and leave the class with everyone else.

          Itís lunchtime, and you arrive a little late to the lunch line. Most folks have already gotten to the line and are waiting to buy food, but you see some friends and start talking to them. Youíre talking with your friends about things you enjoy doing, like watching sports and going to the movies. You really enjoy talking to your friends, and before you know it, youíre getting your food. You donít really like the schoolís food, but youíre just glad that you get a meal every day.

          After lunch is over, you go to history class. Today the teacher, a middle aged woman with plenty of gusto who really enjoys teaching her students, is teaching your class about World War 2. Some of the kids seem interested in the topic, but some of the kids just dutifully get out their spiral notebooks and dull pencils and write down some of the things the teacher says. The teacher talks about all the awful travesties committed in war with enthusiasm, but it wasnít a strange amount of enthusiasm, just enough to show that she enjoyed her job and no more. To you, it seemed irreverent to not be sad when talking about all that death. You recall the words of Stalin, who said one death is a tragedy but a million deaths is a statistic. It was a pretty morbid saying by who you would consider to be a bad man, but it seemed to surmise your thoughts well.

          School ends, and most people seem happy. You hear people talking about how the day went fast, and other people saying about how the day dragged on and on. On the way home, you ponder the duality of this statement, how a day to some can be a labored affair and for others it sails by. To you it just seems as if a day is 24 hours long. There are some things that you find confusing, but other things that you think are fairly self-explanatory. After a little while, youíre at home.

          You have a glass of water. The ice you put in the water chills the water, and your hand as you hold it. It tastes good, even though water doesnít really have a taste. You also eat some crackers, because youíre kind of hungry, but dinner isnít for a while. The salty crackers make you thirsty, and you finish your water and put the glass in the sink. Then you take your backpack with you and go upstairs.

          You once again splay the books in your backpack all over your pleasantly messy desk. Youíd like to get your homework done before you relax; it always made more sense to you to get the unpleasant things in life out of way early so you didnít have to worry about them when you were doing leisurely things. You take open the appropriate books to the relevant pages and begin learning what they had to say and writing things down in the manner various teachers suggested you do.

          You work clear until dinner, and your mom calls you downstairs. Walking downstairs, you see an arrangement meticulously prepared by your mother. There are delicious meats and vegetables and all the silverware lined up like itís supposed to be. You ask your mother what the occasion is, and she just smiles and says she was in a good mood. You and your mother and your father and your little sister sit down at the table and eat together. Your mom asks your dad about how his day was, and he says it was a hard day at the office but he got a lot done. There are a few moments of silence garnished with the sound of food being consumed, and then your father asks you how your day was. You say it was fairly typical and nice, not because you want to be dismissive of your dad, but because you canít really think of anything interesting that happened. You share about all the things youíre learning about, about Holden Caulfield and about the Battle of the Bulge. Your parents nod with interest while chewing meat and then sipping water. You wonder how much your parents are really interested in your day, but regardless, youíre glad they asked.

          After dinner, you help put the dishes into the dishwasher without being asked. Your parents thank you for your help. You pour yourself a glass of milk and take some cookies upstairs, settling into a comfortable chair and an entertaining book. You nibble on the cookies and the crumbs fall down into the creases of the book. You try to brush them out, but there comes a point where your fingers are too wide to reach the small valleys formed by the binding of book. You feel kind of bad, because this is a book youíre borrowing from the library, but not too bad.

          Later in the evening, after youíve learned all about strange fantastical lands and engaging, heroic characters in your book, you see that itís around 9:30. This isnít terribly late in the evening, but you figure it would be a good idea to get some more sleep after waking up so tired this morning, because you stayed out with friends last night. You say goodnight to your parents, and then to your sister, and go into your room and fold yourself into bed.

          As you wait for sleep to find you and take you to a world of your subconscious, you lay still in your bed, listening to a fan you keep running back and forth to keep silence at bay. You know that some people like their room to be quiet and dark when they fall asleep, but youíve always been bothered by little bumps and sounds far away when youíre trying to fall asleep, so you keep a fan by your bed. You think about what kind of day itís been, and all the things youíve done. You start to drift off to sleep with a quaint little smile on your face.

 It was a pretty good day. Youíre certainly not a bad person, but you donít think too highly of yourself, and certainly donít think of yourself explicitly as a wonderful person, but I do. I think youíre just wonderful.

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