Friday, August 15, 2014

holdmyfandom:

okay so Mads is wearing one of tumblebuggie's “Be the person Winston thinks you are” buttons and I'm dying. 

*dead omg*

(Source: the-winnowing-wind)

USA Today reports that the Ferguson police are part of a federal program called “1033.” Established in the early 1990s, 1033 lets the U.S. government distribute “hundreds of millions of dollars of surplus military equipment” to “civilian police forces” across the country.

The problem isn’t going away soon

(via micdotcom)

dorothy-snarker:

This is #Ferguson today. This is America. 

[Images from top by @ryanjreilly​ for HuffPo, @AP, @PDPJ for St. Louis Post Dispatch, @kodacohen for St. Louis Post Dispatch]

Monday, August 11, 2014

[PIRATE’S COVE - ANIMATION]

Full battle sequence as promised :)

All designs by Robin Mitchell

[Art Director: Robin Mitchell]
[© 2014 PlayStudiosTM 2014]

[PIRATE’S COVE - ANIMATION]

Full battle sequence coming later in a separate post :)

All designs by Robin Mitchell

[Art Director: Robin Mitchell]
[© 2014 PlayStudiosTM 2014]

Thursday, August 7, 2014

[SHEERLUCK HOUND - ANIMATION]

I animated a dog dancing a jig while wearing plaid. WHO DA MAN? >:D

All designs by Robin Mitchell

[Art Director: Robin Mitchell]
[© 2014 PlayStudiosTM 2014]

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

[SHEERLUCK HOUND - ANIMATION]

This is by far the CLASSIEST game I’ve ever worked on. 
Seriously. Such class. Wow. 

All designs by Robin Mitchell

[Art Director: Robin Mitchell]
[© 2014 PlayStudiosTM 2014]

Monday, August 4, 2014

[REEL CHEF - ANIMATION] part 2

Reel Chef is the brainchild of Vanessa Tam, all credits of design and painting goes to her :)

I was the character animator for the game.

[Art Director: Vanessa Tam]
[© 2014 PlayStudiosTM 2014]

Sunday, August 3, 2014

(Source: tevinho)

[REEL CHEF - ANIMATION] part 1

Reel Chef is the brainchild of Vanessa Tam, all credits of design and painting goes to her :)

I was the character animator for the game.

[Art Director: Vanessa Tam]
[© 2014 PlayStudiosTM 2014]

Friday, August 1, 2014

[AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 PLAYS - ANIMATION]

Here are some of the animated sequences I did for the game.

Character designs are in a separate post >here<

[Art Director: Robin Mitchell]
[© 2014 PlayStudiosTM 2014]

[AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 PLAYS - CHARACTER DESIGN & ANIMATION]

A glimpse into my professional life :) These I did back in 2012.
I’ve also done some animated sequences for this game, posted >here<

[Art Director: Robin Mitchell]
[© 2014 PlayStudiosTM 2014]

Monday, July 28, 2014

It’s not about pro-this or anti-that, it’s about stopping human beings from killing other human beings you understand? 

(Source: standwithpalestine)

Sunday, July 27, 2014

jimcrocodilecook said: dropping a comment to say I would buy a reprint of Banquet in a heartbeat along with a second book

hannibook:

image (x)

The time will come <3

We promise a vol.1 reprint, prints and stickers! (and much much more)

Sunday, July 20, 2014
thepeoplesrecord:

Gaza, a poemBy Nisha Bolsey
I’m walking and a man says, “If the Palestinians would just love their children more than they hate their enemy, the violence would be over.”Yes.If only.If only they would love their children.If only they had chosen the four corners(so they would die)or kept them in the middle(so they would die).If only they would have brought four-day old Noura back to life.If only they would kiss their children’s dead mouths and breathe life into them.If only they would raise their arms to the sun to block the bombs with the palms of their hands.If only they would dry the rivers of blood in the streets and pour them back into the hearts of their daughters and sons.Why don’t they?Why can’t they just pull out their own lungs and stick them into their slaughtered children’s chests?Why can’t they just sing, 24 hours a day, louder than thunder, to prevent their ears from hearing the sound of bombs?If only they would love their children, and carry their bodies up into the air, above the siege, past the blockade, into freedom.If the Al-Batsh boys’ parents had really loved them,they wouldn’t have let their insides be wrenched apart by the bomb that fell.They would use their hands to hold their limbs together so that they could stay in one piece.If only they would stop the vibrations which create sound,the sound which crashes and bleeds through their children’s ears.If only they would stop all light from traveling, so that their children wouldn’t have to see their sisters, cousins, fathers, brothers.Dead on the floor.Their house turning to rubble.Their family turning to dust.Their family turning to nothing.Their world disappearing.And why doesn’t their love sustain their children more than food?Heal the wounds from the weapons?They had seconds to leave before the bombing began.They should have thrown their children out the window,knowing they would take flightwith the wings their love had created.If only they loved Mohammed, Ahed, Zakaria and Mohammedenoughto rise above their soccer game and changethe magnetic forces of the Earth,to pull away the bomb,headed for the beach.

thepeoplesrecord:

Gaza, a poem
By Nisha Bolsey

I’m walking and a man says, “If the Palestinians would just love their children more than they hate their enemy, the violence would be over.”
Yes.
If only.
If only they would love their children.
If only they had chosen the four corners
(so they would die)
or kept them in the middle
(so they would die).
If only they would have brought four-day old Noura back to life.
If only they would kiss their children’s dead mouths and breathe life into them.
If only they would raise their arms to the sun to block the bombs with the palms of their hands.
If only they would dry the rivers of blood in the streets and pour them back into the hearts of their daughters and sons.
Why don’t they?
Why can’t they just pull out their own lungs and stick them into their slaughtered children’s chests?
Why can’t they just sing, 24 hours a day, louder than thunder, to prevent their ears from hearing the sound of bombs?
If only they would love their children, and carry their bodies up into the air, above the siege, past the blockade, into freedom.
If the Al-Batsh boys’ parents had really loved them,
they wouldn’t have let their insides be wrenched apart by the bomb that fell.
They would use their hands to hold their limbs together so that they could stay in one piece.
If only they would stop the vibrations which create sound,
the sound which crashes and bleeds through their children’s ears.
If only they would stop all light from traveling, so that their children wouldn’t have to see their sisters, cousins, fathers, brothers.
Dead on the floor.
Their house turning to rubble.
Their family turning to dust.
Their family turning to nothing.
Their world disappearing.
And why doesn’t their love sustain their children more than food?
Heal the wounds from the weapons?
They had seconds to leave before the bombing began.
They should have thrown their children out the window,
knowing they would take flight
with the wings their love had created.
If only they loved Mohammed, Ahed, Zakaria and Mohammed
enough
to rise above their soccer game and change
the magnetic forces of the Earth,
to pull away the bomb,
headed for the beach.