[Herr D]

On a visit to G979, I got this still of a Sleeping Flyer. Wonderfully mysterious creatures. If you’re less than seven inches thick and under 110 pounds, the tourist board will still let you climb inside for a flight as of last season. You climb up through the rope-ladder-like tail right into the carapace. Most passengers agree to take video in exchange for ration cubes and breath apparatus. Barring accidents and poaching, none of these amazing creatures have died (or bred, fed, or even awakened) for the 3000-plus years since they were discovered. They just breathe, take off, and land in a three-hour cycle. (There are some reported to snore.)

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-SleepingFlyerOnG979-1.jpg

Universal Biologic did a fascinating story on G979. Mostly it was about the lost civilization known only as “The Watchers.” Not all of their texts have been translated, but they may be unique among known civilizations for the following: Their ENTIRE language appears to transliterate phonetically from nature sounds, ingeniously deduced by the first archaeologist team. They correctly predicted a nucleonic storm that would poison their atmosphere by an anionization process activating their natural mix of sulfur, arsenic, cyanide, neon, and fluorine–WITHOUT radiotelescopes, artificial satellites, space travel, spectrometers, or even radar. (No one knows how–the texts describe standing miles apart and comparing sounds of it arriving by ear, which is absurd.) Most unique of all, their entire civilization went calmly about their business for over a hundred years after the prediction was verified by several citizens, referencing that they would already be “gone.”
But, where?
Soundings have been taken and core samples verified. They didn’t tunnel downward. No digging besides their horticultural efforts was ever done. Sonar verifies that there are no artificial structures below the water. Their technology did not include space travel, in fact, it was limited to agriculture, horticulture, animal husbandry (including ornamental avian,) archives, and sound recording. So approximately 400,000 of them vanished without a trace. The last words written were: Now we start away, reconciled. We go Crowuhtain [sic.] No one knows what that last word means.
Anyway, the rest of the episode had a rather sarcastic tone. When they disappeared over 5000 years ago, they didn’t leave detailed records of their anatomy, medicine, or general appearance. So, in theory, they could’ve been picked up by some other group. UB actually theorized that “The Watchers” were color-blind, because they never even mention the Sleeping Flyers, which have more beautiful plumage than any other species on the planet.
The Sleeping Flyers roost until dawn or twilight when breezes max out, their reflexes release their hold on the roost, they fly for almost precisely three hours ‘easterly’ toward Ygu, their red dwarf sun, and then roost for about seven minutes. They repeat this cycle until their crystalline eyes either cannot detect light, or detect more than half the sun’s strength. They appear to be neurologically recording and osmotically receiving calcium through their roosting limbs, but their digestive systems are in some sort of dry stasis, allowing passengers. The wings are partly reflective, partly translucent, and completely beautiful. No other limbs and only what appear to be reproductive organs, also in stasis. The brains are actually inside the wings, lightweight and plentiful. The species exists over the whole planet. No one has bothered with a close count, but it would appear they number over a quarter of a million.

[Herr D]

You’re simply getting yours. I know that since I constantly have to consume what food packages say feed 2 or more people (and buy them,) and frequently manage to do things I am assured take two to three people at work, that I should AT LEAST GET TWO VOTES IN ELECTIONS.

I don’t even get paid two salaries or get double credit for my hours. –So enjoy whatever recognition you can get, even if it’s just a glitch.

[Herr D]

3 insignia this time: tree, celtic weave with the circle and drop.

Okay, GO!

[Herr D]

Here’s one of the sassy ones who prefers two-baton fighting:
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-EvilMHenchwoman.png

Hey, would you count as a mask prize the ‘neck bunch’ under the face like Mission Impossible? Any paused image from MI series would be good source material. You did capes, right?

[Herr D]

Wow. Are you prolific or have you just begun posting a backlog? You’ve seen RPG corner yet, no doubt. BrAYgo or BrEHgo?

[Herr D]

M2MM #1:

This one starts early–you have from RIGHT NOW (no time travel allowed) till Saturday 1/19 11:59PM EST. To illustrate one or more of the following:

1. Enforcer KF2 (male) looking stern and authoritarian, making a commanding gesture as he does an assisted leap through the air.
2. Enforcer LC4 (female) looking angry, embarrassed, impatient, or some combination–and aiming not firing her shoulder cannon.
3. Any Enforcer in the midst of removing headgear with someone behind them ready to stab them.

Commonalities:
1. Background walls are cavern/mine gray, perhaps streaked with black or ‘earth tones.’ The Enforcers are the security force for the ‘Belt Mine Prison System’ or BMPS. That’s right. All pics are well inside an asteroid millions of miles from Earth. No portholes. You may, if you like, show hallway girders or struts, hatches, doorframes for residences, airlocks without views, storefronts with signs, ‘public’ computer kiosks, lights, vents, security cameras, . . . I may add to this list by request (PM.)
2. Anyone you show is human, but that includes cyborgs. Anyone besides an Enforcer is a beltminer, or prisoner, on V-gamma-seven, the asteroid mentioned above. It’s a penal colony, capitalist, minimally regulated. No kids, no animals. Simple, vandal-resistant cleaning bots. The miners might wear anything they can make / steal / kill for. They live here. Some are hookers (legal here.) ID is done with something half the size of a wristwatch with no band. Implanted mid-forearm, only slightly protruding, wireless, no jack.
3. Enforcers are identified by a seven-digit code, usually four numbers, two letters, and one more number. The last three are large and repeated on several limbs of uniform. The uniform is gray, armored, bulky, has very little hardware showing besides a com unit and a shoulder cannon (five shots at a time,) shows nothing but the face and maybe some hair. These suits DO enable the wearer to leap up to seventy feet in length, twenty-five feet in height in nine-tenths Earth gravity.

Should you, during this mission, become fraught, thrilled, or raptured, you may mention it here. I know this is a lot of detail.

[Herr D]

Somebody said my three midgeteers were creepy. . .I’m trying to remember whether I planned that and can’t. . .oh, well.
These are definitely supposed to be a little creepy:
First up, Master Marionette. Somehow, no matter what people try, they can’t see where the strings go. They just variously continue up forever or stop in mid-air with no pattern or continuity, switching back and forth. Juggling is what he does. –So don’t let him too near those three kids over there–

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-MasterMarionette.jpg

*Okay. Now, some people would say I cheated, but I saved some time by creating two radically different pics for two different contests with the same general concept and items in mind.*

Kid Weapon has this peculiar power. He turns weapons in his vicinity into toys. None of the local warriors want to get too close, because some of THEM are considered lethal weapons . . .

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-KidWeapon1.jpg

I saw here the opportunity to invent the first ever plushie chainsaw!

[Herr D]

Master Marionette is NOT suicidal; he’s THAT GOOD.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-MasterMarionette.jpg

[Herr D]

Wow. I’m pleased to have been mentioned in planning, and I’ve no idea how to play such a game.

My logo would be easy enough. The ‘bang’ from wordballoons containing ‘?!’ would easily describe my effect on most people. And I would be truly honored to be the card you play when you want to see your opponents raise their eyebrows, clap twice, belch, shrug, and say “Mee-meep!”

[Herr D]

Hey–screaming face in profile, for an unnatural? Easy. Beginning suggestion, Insignia Tech Oval to color section of face to background, Hair FemaleStd first group bottom left item — once for upper lip, flip one for lower lip. Add tusks or items from last group of Hair Std for teeth. Mouth has a serpentine tongue.

The sizing and coloring might be tough to make look right . . .

You may find some items in shoulder right to your preference for lips, etc.

[Herr D]

*Here for all you rushed, distracted, new, unpracticed, or just plain lazy people, is a reminder. Don’t make the mistake I made with this illustration. I had two options for picture concept and chose this one because this was going to be a fragmentary day on hm. (Leave on all day, work on it up to twice an hour for up to seven minutes at a time.) I reasoned that the items done approximately in triplicate would make that kind of a day simpler and faster. My mistake was that I didn’t plan out the picture more in advance.

So I had to move each piece of ALL THREE FOUR TIMES. It took a lot longer and didn’t turn out as well as planned.*

–> Three of the most acrobatic, charismatic, honorable, and just plain cute musketeers in history were the identical triplet midgets named Putipon, Knowymon, and Hillinngon. They wanted to be formal musketeers but were never granted official cloaks and told they were denied the opportunity to entertain the royal family. Something about how they didn’t measure up. That was kind of the point, though; they were respectively three foot one, two foot eleven and a half, and two foot ten. At that height, their over-sized belts doubled as codpieces, serving the extra function of reminding the wenches they chased whose names they should be yelling soon. Here they are depicted in their showiest pose.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/hm3/HerrD-Midgeteers_zps307d0dc7.jpg

[Herr D]

Well, the clearer deadline didn’t work. Still just two.

1. I love seeing alien species, monsters, etc. Both of these guys are enough to make me homesick–I mean–happy.
2. Both entries did use at least one item in an innovative way. Props to NHA for belt item as paint holders–magnetic?
3. Both good illustrations in general. Subjective illustration issues were secondary. (NHA? Where’s the white paint spray can? Keric? I’m having trouble with trajectory–can’t figure out where the horseshoe tosser stood. Both have possible explanations.)
4. Emotional effect. That’s what decided this one. The graffiti artist obviously has a good potential for story behind him, but pain and shock of breaking dentition just drew me right into the plight of the horseshoe spectator. Having a tusk broken would hurt worse than having your eyestalk used as a jum–

. . . okay, it would hurt a lot. I’m REALLY glad I wasn’t him. The whole rest of the picnic would be ruined. No crunchy Yrnubaw for Mr. Sonofa. Keric wins. Congratulations, Keric. Get your choices ready. You’re the next judge of OPMC!

[Herr D]

Only two entries so far? Oh well.

HEY! **Judge announcement** These will be due 11:59PM Eastern Time Saturday night and I am uncertain what time I will post winners on Sunday or extremely early Monday morning. Thank you.
(I recall hearing that most art can’t be finished without a clear deadline. So I’m being clearer than I was.)

[Herr D]

[Herr D enters and rapidly moves to barstool. Motions bartender over.]
“I hinted to some colleagues that a bunch of half-human, half-sea creatures might hold a benefit called ‘Save The Humans.’ Their manufacturing hardware was limited, but they contributed these [places large package on table] to your prize closet in hopes it would happen.” [opens package to reveal seventeen green left rubber boots each containing three ziploc bags of seawater]
“Let me know the concert date ASAP, right?” [Gestures and makes odd sounds toward martini glass for a moment.] “Rats. I need to practice that dialect, too. Silicate life-form languages are harder for me to pronounce.” [Dashes out.]

[Herr D]

Darkness bullets. Forget Hasbro, Weilyn! You could make millions selling darkness bullets to migraine sufferers. Uh. Good luck on the R & D?

[Author]

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