Jul 20, 2019

Giveaway nr. 25 - Steamworld Heist

Made some weird videos and wrote some strange stories. 

Giveaway nr. 25 - Steamworld Heist
Read More »

Jul 14, 2019

The painter

"You're so strange,
I'm glad you didn’t change."

In the corner of the room, a homunculus with multicolored teeth smiled at the sky beyond the ceiling. The homunculus gazed through the ceiling like a window, his gaze passing through 10 floors full of people. He saw through dusty carpets, through tall cabinets and long beds, through the surface cleanliness and the hidden messiness. He stared straight through the apartment building like it was an aquarium, watching the hidden souls in their skulls, glancing from one floor to another.
The people on the first floor were lame and mono-colored, on the next floor the people were like children and did not understand the world. One floor above that, stray dogs were remembering the good times. And so it went all the way to the roof, where, after passing a bald head tanning its self, the homunculus finally saw the sky.

"What's that on your mouth?" a feminine voice addressed the heap of unsorted fabrics and uncombed tissues from the corner of the room.
The feminine presence had appeared quite unexpectedly from the door. The creature trembled at the sound of her voice, withdrawing his gaze from the walls, he turned back into a half-man to answer.
"It's blue," he answered with an unexercised voice. He felt the need to clear his throat, but he abstained, too many sounds would have given him away.
"Blue, from what?" asked suspiciously the woman that the homunculus recognized as his better half. She looked at him as if she deserved some answers.
"From currants and blueberries, from cornflowers, from sadness ... from these oil paints" he finally admitted when there was only one thing left to say.
The creature had grown fingers and pointed to a corner filled with strangled colors. The woman could not tell if there were more empty paint tubes than usual, his room was always messy.
"What did you do?" she asked with a hint of panic in her voice.
The homunculus looked at her slightly bemused, he could see little creatures gathering on her forehead, working to make an expression of worry. All their work pulsating under her thin skin. The wrinkles gathered at the edge of her eyes like a storm. The homunculus reformed to humanity, returning to the constitution of "the painter". She was pulling him back from the lunacy and wildness.
The painter remembered how much he liked to see her angry. She looked better angry rather than happy, her face caught a vigor and suppleness that he enjoyed. When she smiled all her lines would brake and nothing flowed anymore, her cheeks would lose their shape, her face would widen, and her eyes would squeeze in. The painter disliked all these things, and with this aesthetic sense he felt selfish. He liked to see her upset, and even angry. She looked sharp and cutting when furious, with a pulsating rhythm what wouldn’t let her stand still, a fiery beauty. But now her face only showed worry, her expression drew confused feelings in him. What did she want? Was he not clear?
"I ate some colors," the painter continued, with a smile that disclosed his colorful teeth.
"Are you crazy, come on, are you serious? You have to vomit! I'm gonna take you to the hospital."
"No, please, let me die," the painter replied melodramatically.
She pulled him up by the armpits and pushed him to the bathroom. The painter dropped without resisting. It was amusing to be dragged around, and if he had opposed the game, it would have ceased.
"Let me be, I want to be colored on the inside," he tried to explain.
"God knows what's in these paints, you have to puke them out, do you hear me?"
She put his head down in front of the toilet bowl, pushing him towards the water.
"Put your hand down your throat, you have to vomit, do it or I’ll do it for you."
The painter finally understood she didn’t have any appreciation for his gesture.
"Leave me alone."
"You idiot, do you want to die?"
The girl shoved two fingers down his throat, irrespective of his opposition. For a moment the painter contemplated whether to bite her. The thought of such enormity shamed him. A deep sense of guilt pressed his chest and he spewed his guts in the form of an apology.
He regurgitated a multicolored rainbow of sick. Red, yellow, blue, green and purple splashed the toilet bowl again and again, each pulse bringing up a new composition. Now the painter wanted to vomit, he wanted to produce more, more and more. Feeling it end, he pressed his stomach to squeeze out the last drops.
They both fell exhausted near the bath's porcelain fixtures, she at the foot of the sink, and him with his forehead glued to the cold toilet.
"You are like a flower ... so pleasantly dour," whispered the painter.
"You want to be a poet now? Why do I keep fooling myself. You’re driving me crazy? I'm gonna blow my brains out."
"If you want to do it, do it, but look for a white wall, and leave a note with the name of your opera. Now that's an idea, to literally paint your brains away.
"As you can see, the artist's brains have oozed in the most extraordinary way. This testamentary work can not be assigned a value", she sighed. "Didn't you say that all critics are idiots. Why am I playing your game?"
"You're attracted to tragedy."
"Like fly's to shit, but what's so tragic about you?"
The painter looked in the toilet bowl and then turned to her.
"As you can see, all my potential is going down the drain."
"And what did you want me to do, let you die?"
"Yes," he replied with a sob. "Then my work would have achieved its end."
"Shouldn’t you actually make something, so you are remembered after you die?"
"It's all about the audience. The man who will do my autopsy will be marked for life, he will live with my work in his head, "the painter with the colored insides", he will think of me at night. I will pop in his thoughts when he least expects it."
"Dreams of colored guts ... idiot," she said pushing him with her foot.
"Did I miss something?"
"Did you forget about me. I love you, doesn't that matter to you at all? Did you ever think of me?"
"This isn't about you, I was thinking artistically, if I manage to get in someone's head even with a single work, then I can really say I'm an artist, it doesn’t matter if I die."
"One coroner will see you at the morgue, once, after you die, is that your audience?"
"You're right, okay, it's over. I was trying to put some excitement back into the idea, but I can’t, bugs are crawling all over it. Are you happy now?"
"Why exactly the colors?"
"I wanted to feel something. I wanted to be depressed, to feel melancholy, I wanted something to long for ... so I ate the blue." 
"You're crazy, that’s insane. I can’t even talk to you anymore."
"I would have died happily painting my insides, but no, you couldn't have that. Don’t flush it, look how beautiful it is."
Paint splashes were mixing between them. The painter was lost in the color of the toilet bowl, smiling absurdly at his moving work.
"I'll be right back, don’t do anything stupid." The painter’s better half returned with a bottle of mineral water.
"You'll drink it and puke the rest of the paint out."
"You want to drain me. Have you no pity?"
"You either drink it or I'll take you to the hospital and there they’ll scrub it out of your insides."
"Can’t you see this is my first original work. This is all that matters."
"Let's get some air."
The two half-joined into a two-headed old man. The old man crawled up to the balcony where he sat down on the floor. With one of his mouths sucking on the water bottle.
"Why do you make me do all these things, do you want to hate me?" her mouth asked.
Crooked with shivers the painter received a clean sheet over his shoulders.
"Do you think I like this life?" she continued. "Do you think I'm happy? I love you, but you have to help me out. Go on, drink all your water."
The painter spooned in the last of the water.
"And now?" he asked, rising from below, wearing his sheet like a cloak.
"Now you have to vomit … again."

In the bathroom, a dazzling geyser of different colors came out from his nose and mouth.
"Sea water," he said, "from which comes Aphrodite in all the paintings."
After a moment of silence she asked gently.
"What do they taste like?"
"Extraordinary, they taste great, except somewhat unexpected. The blue looked cold and melancholic but it tasted like autumn ice cream, while white tasted like toothpaste..."
His consort raised a pinched tube from the tiles.
"This one was the toothpaste," she said playfully.
"They all look the same", the painter excused himself.
"I hope you didn’t eat my hand cream."
"Coconut...", the painter said after a moment of thought. 
"I'll buy another one. Are you better now?"
The painter examined his hands, they looked almost human.
"Yes, I think so," he replied.

Versiunea în română: Pictorul
Read More »

Jul 4, 2019

Good news everyone - Cooking oil as sunscreen




Hey good looking what do I smell cooking.



Read More »

Jun 28, 2019

Good news everyone - Viruses have a social life




My video virus goes into your yellow iris.





Read More »

Jun 20, 2019

May 31, 2019

Good news everyone - Beautiful mold




Breaking the mold? not my mold.

Read More »

May 23, 2019

Good news everyone - Funeral stripping



 A decades-old tradition from the ancient lands of China.

Read More »

May 18, 2019

Giveaway nr. 23 - Party Hard

Read More »

May 15, 2019

Good news everyone - The river of coke



 I blame cocaine faeries for this.

Read More »

May 6, 2019

Good news everyone – the cure for 95% of all diseases has been found

 My dear friends, don’t believe everything you hear. Carefully weigh and examine what people tell you. Not everyone who talks about God comes from God. There are a lot of lying preachers loose in the world. (1 John 4:1)

Read More »

Apr 28, 2019

Good news everyone - We are all drinking wood juice



 Villainous vanillin vows to vanquish veritable vanilla.

Read More »

Apr 20, 2019

Good news everyone - We know where satan lives

The gates have opened, time to learn some latin and get some demons on your side.

Read More »

Apr 5, 2019

Good news everyone - You can have a city named after you

No more Astana, time to buy a new world atlas. Not that you need a reason.
Read More »

Mar 5, 2019

Giveaway nr. 22 - Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War III


I finished another animation "Art or fart"
Let's celebrate with a giveaway :)

Giveaway nr. 22 - Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War III
Read More »

Mar 1, 2019

Unfinished - Art or fart

The next episode is upon us. So what is art?

Read More »

Jan 12, 2019

Giveaway nr. 21 - Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin

In honor of my first Unfinished video.
(weird title for a finished vid, I know :P)
I give to you this game, you might not want to play.
Read More »

Jan 6, 2019

Unfinished - Ecce homo


A debut for three little ghosts talking nonsense. Hope you like them :)

Read More »

Nov 30, 2018

Giveaway nr. 20 > Happy B-day Romania - 10 indie games

La Mulți Ani!
Romania celebrates 100 years since the Great Unification
Happy Birthday To You!

Giveaway nr. 20 > Happy B-day Romania - 10 indie games
Read More »

Nov 21, 2018

Giveaway nr. 19 > Tiny Echo or Super Rude Bear Resurrection

Have some ice-cream ... it's a winter treat.

Giveaway nr. 19 > Tiny Echo or Super Rude Bear Resurrection
Read More »

Nov 19, 2018

The snowman

The cold wind stopped and let the first snow of the year settle on the ground. This first snowfall was thin and shallow, snow that would melt in your hand before you could make a snowball, but it was the first one so we have to count it.
The evening came and a second downfall doubled the first. The children began to gather it up from atop the cold cars, concrete fences and sidewalks. This was now enough to make the first snowballs of that winter. As usual the noisy kids threw the snowballs at the quiet kids and soon enough a merry good time contaminated all the youngsters in the neighborhood.
Later, after the last parents arrived home, a dutiful girl named Bianca dressed her self up in a red jacket and went outside to play. Most of the children were going back inside this late in the evening, but she didn't care, enough snow had fallen for what she really wanted ... a snowman.
Bianca had chosen the place carefully, a garden between two apartment buildings that stood back-to-back. A knee-high fence and a rust-welded gate separated the garden from the rest of the world. This place received the barest of lights from a tired sodium lamp post in the corner of the street. The place was secluded from prying eyes on the ground, but occasionally curious eyes still flowed down from the two tenements.
Bianca inspected the ground. There was plenty of space and lots of room for self-expression. Protected from the sun and the wind, the snowman would have a good life here. The girl carefully gathered the first snowball trying to make it perfectly round. From this snowball a small globe was born and then a sphere of snow that moved around and gathered up mass like a magnet.
Sticky flakes were still falling from the sky when Bianca sat down wearily next to the half-finished snowman and spoke:
"If it's going to keep snowing, tomorrow I'll get your head done. After that you'll need your eyes, your arms and a heart."

The next day, Bianca once again walked out quite late and quickly jumped the fence into the garden to complete the snowman. She stood in the shimmering glow of the street lamp shaping the snow.
She finished the snowman and almost flew back home, where she sneaked in like a mouse, making sure her parents didn't hear her. She pulled out two dried up walnut branches from behind the coat-rack in the entrance hallway, then took two shiny black stones from a pair-less shoe thrown in the back of the shoe cupboard. She put her hand on the knob of the kitchen door and gently opened it making sure it didn't do its usual crick. She entered searching for the last piece of the snowman.
With her hands full of gifts she returned to the snowman. She placed his walnut hands, fixed his eyes and with her frozen hands, caressed what looked like blue glass. Bianca opened the snowman's chest and transplanted the icy heart inside. She pressed the snow back in his chest and whispered.
"You're alive now."

On the third day coming from school, the girl glanced between the tenements. The snowman stood with a hand raised to heaven as if saying "hey". Bianca smiled, and continued running home, where she eagerly waited for her parents to come home. Once they got home Bianca headed back out to her secret garden, where the snowman greeted her once again with a trembling hand in the wind.
"How are you, I've missed you so much," said the girl, hugging him.
The snowman didn't answer.
"Why aren't you talking to me? don't be angry ... I brought you back as soon as I could, and just look at this place, the wind and the sun will never hit you".
The snowman did not look very impressed.
"Should I tell you what's been happening since we've last seen each other? I came 2nd in my class, that was last summer, then I left with mom and dad to the sea side. I made sand castles there. It's beautiful there, waves of green water, seagulls and boats float everywhere on the sea.
A faint wind carried a few words to the girl's ears.
"Well ... you did promise me some sand."
"You came back, I knew you would." Bianca hugged him, and the snowman, in turn, hugged the girl squeezing her red jacket. 
"Where have you been?"
"I was taking a nap. You've grown so big," he said.
"See this is the jacket from last year, it barely fits anymore."
"Where are the others, I haven't seen any kids here."
"I didn't make you at the playground, the kids are mean there."
"What do you mean?" the snowman asked surprised.
"They have snowball fights."
"Well, what's wrong with that?"
"They pinned me down and rubbed snow on my face, I don't want to play with them anymore."
"Bianca you shouldn't hide from your friends."
"They're not my friends anymore, I'll stay here with you and we'll play together."
"I liked it when other kids were around with their snowmen. Do you remember d'Artagnan? he had that sword carved from a fir tree and we used to fight every night."
"I don't want to play with them."
"Come on Bianca it's just snow," he tried to improve her mood, then took a handful of snow and poured it on his head.
"It's not the same, you wouldn't have liked it either."
The snowman drew a circle in the snow.
"When you were little, Bianca, you could play for hours in a circle as big as this, but now you've grown up, you shouldn't just sit around here when you can go and play all over."
Bianca began to add petals to the circle turning it into a big flower.
"You should try to get along with them," tested the snowman again.
"Boys are stupid. I'm not playing with them anymore."
"What about the girls?"
"They moved... just Anna is left and she can't come out this late."
The snowman looked around and took a piece of tinsel hanging from a tree in the garden.
"Bianca you need to make new friends, you can't just sit around and talk to a snowman until you're an old lady. You have to promise this is the last time you bring me back."
"What do you mean, you don't want to come back anymore?
"Bianca, big girls don't play with snowmen. I don't want to see you hiding from other kids.
"But I like it this way."
"No Bianca, promise me this is the last time. When spring comes you'll take the heart and you'll bury it."
"Why?" asked the girl indignant.
"You have to make real friends."
The snowman took the tinsel and placed it over her head.
"That look's good on you, if only d'Artagnan could see you now he would laugh and laugh."
Bianca took the tinsel pouting, she put it on the snowman.
"Well, ok, I promise," she said.
The snowman hugged her again.
"Now let's see what you've learned at school since I last saw you. Tell me, quickly, three cold capitals."
"Ottawa, Moscow and Helsinki. Now you tell me three small seas," she countered.
"The Black Sea, the Dead Sea and the Marmara Sea, you have three seconds to tell me three active volcanoes," continued the snowman.
"Etna, Vesuvius and ... pass. Three colors starting with the letter - r ?"
"Red, rose and rainbow. I can't believe you haven't learned three volcanoes. Tell me three high mountains."
"The Himalayas, Kilimanjaro and the Pyrenees, but rainbow isn't a color. Three precious stones?"
"Diamond, ruby and ... you know it's getting late, you better run back home."
"You don't know?" giggled the girl.
"I'll let you know tomorrow," mustered the snowman.
"Okay, but I warn you, I'll ask again." 
And with that Bianca said goodbye to the snowman and went back home, tired but happy.

The next day Bianca came back holding something behind her back.
"I have a surprise for you," she said.
"What do you have there?"
"Close your eyes."
"I can't close them, I don't have any eyelids, how about I put my hands over my eyes."
"All right, but don't cheat."
"Ok ok no cheating."
The snowman heard something being poured beside him, and Bianca let him look. The snowman saw a bucket of sand overturned in the middle of the alley.
"Sand from the beach?" he asked.
"Yeah, go ahead."
"Didn't you tell me it was hot as lava, and it would melt me if I rolled over it?"
"That's in the summer, but it's winter now ... Go on!"
And the snowman jumped on the sand.
"Oh, look at that, it's sticky," he said excitedly.
"Mom always make's me wash it off."
The snowman began to make a small sand castle.
"Let's make some towers,"  said the snowman.
"You do it, I'll look for twigs for a gate," she said.
"Let's have a dry leaf at the entrance, we're going to raise it so strangers can't come in."
"Dig a trench while I'm looking for all that," she said.
Bianca and the snowman continued to play, adorning the sand castle, and at the end the snowman drew a few animals beside so it stood defended from bad children.
Some old timers living in the tenements with windows towards the inner courtyard sometimes watched Bianca play in the snow. They never noticed the snowman, the snowman didn't seem all that interesting so they paid no attention to him.

Days and weeks passed and after storms, Bianca came and dug out the snow man and the sand castle. For Christmas Bianca brought the snowman a plastic beard and for the New Year's Eve, the highest point of the sand castle, received a single sparkler.

The girl was laying on her back making snow angels when she saw the particularly black and clear sky dotted with lots of bright pearls. Some smaller, some bigger they all seemed to be making a necklace in the sky.
"See how the stars came out tonight?", asked the girl.
"Yes," said the snowman, "the lady of the sky is wearing them tonight."
"You think somebody's up there?"
"Yeah, she's taking care of everything up there, she wears her stars on serene nights, and spins around showing them off."
"How do you know that?"
"Well, she's been there since the earth began to have winters, and I think she is gonna be there long after we're all gone. I don't really get to see her so festively dressed, she is usually wearing thick clouds in the winter but now I see she dropped them behind and went out for a dance. Spring might be coming."
"That's not good, it's going to get warm," replied the girl worriedly.
"She's just tired of the cold and the snow. How long could you stay dressed up all in white? not to mention we have to think of the others, the trees and the bears are all sleeping, they have to wake up too.

The snowman was surrounded by snowdrops, and shortly thereafter the last snowfall of the winter fell. As the spring came, the snowman got dirty, and grass began to grow in the courtyard of the castle.
One day the snowman felt the end coming and decided to say goodbye to the little girl. He took one of the buttons on his chest and placed it in her hands.
"My time has come Bianca."
"No, you can't leave, I won't let you. I'll put your heart in the freezer and we'll see each other next year."
"Bianca, you promised me, you're a big girl now, you can't take care of me anymore, you have to grow up."
"I don't want to, why should I grow up?"
"Bianca I want you to listen, it'll be fine, you'll see, you'll grow up, you'll make friends and forget me..."
"How can I forget you, I don't want to."
"It's all right Bianca, that's how it has to be. It's gonna be fine, you'll see.
The snowman smiled warmly, and the girl burst into tears and fled home. The snowman cried out after her:
"Bye and be happy ... Bianca, if it's not too hot I'll see you again tomorrow." said the snowman considering the weather. 
The next day, Bianca found the snowman with a fallen eye and a missing hand.
"Where's your hand, who took it? Please talk to me, I'm sorry I left yesterday."
Bianca put the eye back, but the snowman was too far gone to respond. Bianca opened the soft snow around his heart. The blue diamond that had given life to the snowman was transparent in the daylight. 
She pulled it out, wiped it clean, and watched it for a long time, letting it melt in her hands. She held it until the feeling in her fingers started to fade.
"I don't want to leave you," she whispered.
Then she dug a hole in the middle of the sand castle with her numb fingers and buried the last shard of the snowman's heart.
"I'll play with you again, you'll see, I'll make snowmen with other kids, and we'll play together." 

Versiunea în română: Omul de zăpadă

Read More »