Yukio Miymoto will kick your ass at Adobe Illustrator. See that camera below? It was done entirely with the Pen and Gradient Mesh tools. You can see it and more mind-blowing work at Yukio’s personal portfolio site. Now excuse me while I go cry quietly in a corner …
Seriously?
I am unreasonably excited about this game, and I just learned that I will be getting it FOR FREE because Heather apparently knows all the best people.
My fianceé is awesome.
I don’t know why I enjoy this clip so much. At the end, he explains why he’s never been a gamer, but I have to wonder: P. Stewey, if you don’t play video games because of your addictive personality, why do you own a large unopened stack of them? I don’t smoke, but neither do I buy cases of cigarettes. Weird.
Hat tip to Kotaku.
As I stepped onto the downtown 4 train at Grand Central Station, the man was rummaging underneath one of the seats. He wore black jeans, a knit hat, and a puffy, waist-length black fur coat. On a scale from 1 to Stereotypical Pimp, he was about a 6.
He emerged from under the seat and sat down, clutching a rather cheap looking gold bracelet. He turned it over in his hand, inspecting it. “Wow. Fourteen carat. That’s a shame,” he said at that just-loud-enough-to-be-heard volume that so many subway crazies have mastered. “Too bad for whoever lost this. Probably worth $500. I could get $250 for it.” He leaned over and showed it to the mousy Latina woman on his left. “See that?” he said, pointing to the engraved image on the band. “Saint [mumble mumble]. Dominic— er, lots of Cubans wear that. See?” She smiled shyly as he handed her the bracelet. “I can’t wear it. I usually only wear silver,” he explained.
The woman continued to inspect the bracelet as the man gestured to another woman across from him. “Translate. Tell her I can’t wear it because it’s against my religion.” Without missing a beat, the second woman began to explain the man’s predicament to Mousy Latina as she smiled awkwardly and handed the bracelet back to him.
A moment passed before he spoke again. “Cinquenta,” he said.
“¿Que?”
“Cinquenta. Fifty dollars.”
Mousy Latina shook her head politely. “No, gracias. No.”
“Veinte.”
Puzzled by his insistence, she shook her head again and looked to the translator across the car, a silent plea for assistance.
The man said to the translator “Tell her fifteen. And hurry up because I get off at the next stop.”
“Quince dolores,” she repeated. Mousy Latina pondered for a moment before reaching into her purse to pull out one five and one ten-dollar bill. She handed the cash to the man and he handed her the bracelet. As the train pulled into the 14th street station, the man stood and pocketed the cash with a shrug. Just before he stepped off the train, he turned back and said “Sometimes I just like to do nice things.”
The site’s been slightly tweaked and polished. See if you can spot the differences. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
