If you get stuck, get away from your desk. Take a walk, take a bath, go to sleep, make a pie, draw, listen to music, meditate, exercise; whatever you do, don't just stick there scowling at the problem. But don't make telephone calls or go to a party; if you do, other people's words will pour in where your lost words should be. Open a gap for them, create a space. Be patient.
Hilary Mantel
Hilary Mantel
"The progressivist party line sometimes even goes so far as to credit agriculture with the remarkable flowering of art that has taken place over the past few thousand years. Since crops can be stored, and since it takes less time to pick food from a garden than to find it in the wild, agriculture gave us free time that hunter-gatherers never had. Thus it was agriculture that enabled us to build the Parthenon and compose the B-minor Mass.
While the case for the progressivist view seems overwhelming, it's hard to prove. How do you show that the lives of people 10,000 years ago got better when they abandoned hunting and gathering for farming? Until recently, archaeologists had to resort to indirect tests, whose results (surprisingly) failed to support the progressivist view. Here's one example of an indirect test: Are twentieth century hunter-gatherers really worse off than farmers? Scattered throughout the world, several dozen groups of so-called primitive people, like the Kalahari bushmen, continue to support themselves that way. It turns out that these people have plenty of leisure time, sleep a good deal, and work less hard than their farming neighbors. For instance, the average time devoted each week to obtaining food is only 12 to 19 hours for one group of Bushmen, 14 hours or less for the Hadza nomads of Tanzania. One Bushman, when asked why he hadn't emulated neighboring tribes by adopting agriculture, replied, "Why should we, when there are so many mongongo nuts in the world?""
While the case for the progressivist view seems overwhelming, it's hard to prove. How do you show that the lives of people 10,000 years ago got better when they abandoned hunting and gathering for farming? Until recently, archaeologists had to resort to indirect tests, whose results (surprisingly) failed to support the progressivist view. Here's one example of an indirect test: Are twentieth century hunter-gatherers really worse off than farmers? Scattered throughout the world, several dozen groups of so-called primitive people, like the Kalahari bushmen, continue to support themselves that way. It turns out that these people have plenty of leisure time, sleep a good deal, and work less hard than their farming neighbors. For instance, the average time devoted each week to obtaining food is only 12 to 19 hours for one group of Bushmen, 14 hours or less for the Hadza nomads of Tanzania. One Bushman, when asked why he hadn't emulated neighboring tribes by adopting agriculture, replied, "Why should we, when there are so many mongongo nuts in the world?""
Life goes on, and for the sake of verisimilitude and realism, you cannot possibly give the impression of an ending: you must let something hang. A cheap interpretation of that would be to say that you must always leave a chance for a sequel. People die, love dies, but life does not die, and so long as people live, stories must have life at the end.
Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me.
After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the
pieces together.
Now, it's your turn. Jump!
After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the
pieces together.
Now, it's your turn. Jump!
“Awful kind of you.” Grunt. Splash. “But I’ll be fine.” Whinny. Guitar Riff. Pause. “Though if you’re heading down into the warehouse, ask my cousin to see if he’s got anything that could help. Just call his name at the help desk and he’ll show.” He gives you the name then. It twists around your tongue as you repeat it, making your mouth feel salty and slick.
Beginners freeze up stressed over the first version being perfect, experienced people know all first drafts suck and anticipate refining it.
Give Elbow Room to the Creative Reader
The creative writer leaves white space between chapters or segments of chapters. The creative reader silently articulates the unwritten thought that is present in the white space. Let the reader have the experience. Leave judgment in the eye of the beholder. When you are deciding what to leave out, begin with the author. If you see yourself prancing around between subject and reader, get lost. Give elbow room to the creative reader. In other words, to the extent that this is all about you, leave that out.
JOHN McPHEE
The creative writer leaves white space between chapters or segments of chapters. The creative reader silently articulates the unwritten thought that is present in the white space. Let the reader have the experience. Leave judgment in the eye of the beholder. When you are deciding what to leave out, begin with the author. If you see yourself prancing around between subject and reader, get lost. Give elbow room to the creative reader. In other words, to the extent that this is all about you, leave that out.
JOHN McPHEE
Самые странные части вас, что другие люди не поймут или их это не касается — это ваши самые ценные активы, уникальный писательский «голос».
У барабанщика группы "Алиса" были серьёзные проблемы с наркотой. В какой–то момент коллег по группе это заебало, и они поставили ему ультиматум: "Либо завязывай, либо нахуй из искусства". Ну, драммер решил встать на путь исправления: спорт, рехаб на отечественный манер, и всё такое.
И вот наступает первый для него за долгое время концерт, на котором он играет в неизменённом сознании. Мероприятие проходит "на ура", все в восторге, концерт заканчивается, музыканты уходят за кулисы, техники начинают разбирать сцену. И только барабанщик со стеклянным взглядом остаётся сидеть на месте. К нему подходит Кинчев:
— Что случилось–то?
— Кость, а мы всегда такую хуйню играем?
И вот наступает первый для него за долгое время концерт, на котором он играет в неизменённом сознании. Мероприятие проходит "на ура", все в восторге, концерт заканчивается, музыканты уходят за кулисы, техники начинают разбирать сцену. И только барабанщик со стеклянным взглядом остаётся сидеть на месте. К нему подходит Кинчев:
— Что случилось–то?
— Кость, а мы всегда такую хуйню играем?
они хорошие профессионалы, они делают хорошие вещи, вероятно, я просто не в курсе
каждая песня занимает огромную часть моей собственной жизни. поэтому ерунду писать некогда. жалко жизни.
Okay, saw a video about 'game feel' and I think there's something that not many people talk about with it; and that's that 'juicy' effects like hit-pausing, flashing, explosions and screen shake don't just feel good because they're rewarding, it's because they remove ambiguity.
Hit-pause and flashing lets you know that your hit has connected successfully. Dust puffs when you character lands from a jump lets you know you're now working with ground physics rather than air physics. Large death explosions let you know that you can stop firing now.
Overuse of any of these effects, however, muddies the waters and makes them feel *less* rewarding, rather than more. When everything causes a screenshake, it can no longer be relied upon as feedback to the player. Did I hit an enemy or did one of a billion other things cause it?
I see a lot of talks and articles on 'juice' that seem to imply that more effects = better, and I think it's causing a glut of overly hyperactive action games that have completely misdirected effort into making everything feel *big* rather than *good*.
Think about what the exact intent is behind every single effect you implement. What does it signify? Does it signal success, failure, that you're using limited resources, that an ability is ready to use? What can you do to indicate that to the player unambiguously?
'Juice' is feedback. Always keep your feedback clear and concise. That's what makes a game feel good.
Long story short; It's fine to be super proud of your awesome explosion effect, but it'll be more effective if you use it sparingly rather than liberally.
stupidhoroscope
Hit-pause and flashing lets you know that your hit has connected successfully. Dust puffs when you character lands from a jump lets you know you're now working with ground physics rather than air physics. Large death explosions let you know that you can stop firing now.
Overuse of any of these effects, however, muddies the waters and makes them feel *less* rewarding, rather than more. When everything causes a screenshake, it can no longer be relied upon as feedback to the player. Did I hit an enemy or did one of a billion other things cause it?
I see a lot of talks and articles on 'juice' that seem to imply that more effects = better, and I think it's causing a glut of overly hyperactive action games that have completely misdirected effort into making everything feel *big* rather than *good*.
Think about what the exact intent is behind every single effect you implement. What does it signify? Does it signal success, failure, that you're using limited resources, that an ability is ready to use? What can you do to indicate that to the player unambiguously?
'Juice' is feedback. Always keep your feedback clear and concise. That's what makes a game feel good.
Long story short; It's fine to be super proud of your awesome explosion effect, but it'll be more effective if you use it sparingly rather than liberally.
stupidhoroscope
у нас на спецавтобазе как говорят: нарративами кидался — по ебалу получил
>>What is the payoff that I’m gaining from not doing something that I said I would?
>>How does this payoff make me feel?
>>Where is the origin of these feelings?
>>Will my whole world crumble if I don’t do this right now?
>>Is this really that important?
>>Who says I have to do anything anyway?
>>How does this payoff make me feel?
>>Where is the origin of these feelings?
>>Will my whole world crumble if I don’t do this right now?
>>Is this really that important?
>>Who says I have to do anything anyway?
Вспоминая впоследствии о работе над фильмом «Октябрь», о монтаже кадров с богами и о теории интеллектуального кино, Эйзенштейн с юмором писал в «Автобиографических записках»:
«Но боги покарали своего обидчика, наслав на него временное помрачнение разума».
«Но боги покарали своего обидчика, наслав на него временное помрачнение разума».
Гейм-дизайн — та область, которой нужно заниматься, чтобы ее изучать. Честно, нет никакой альтернативы разработке игр. В процессе вы узнаете так много, что вам, скорее всего, даже не придется ничего читать о разработке игр. К счастью, в процессе изучения этой книги это — именно то, чем вы будете заниматься большую часть времени.
В этом смысле гейм-дизайн похож на кулинарию. Представьте себе шеф-повара, который ни разу не заходил на кухню, не пытался ничего приготовить, но прочитал великое множество кулинарных книг. Бьюсь об заклад, что его первый кулинарный шедевр будет совершенно неаппетитным. Или представьте себе художника, который никогда не брал в руки кисть. За пределами вводного изучения базовых концептов лучший способ лучше рисовать — это рисовать как можно больше.
Точно так же, создание и игра в собственный дизайн — лучший способ изучения работы и сбоя конкретных механик в самых различных ситуациях. Не забывайте также, что динамика возникает лишь в процессе игры, и некоторые ее проявления могут вас удивить.
В этом смысле гейм-дизайн похож на кулинарию. Представьте себе шеф-повара, который ни разу не заходил на кухню, не пытался ничего приготовить, но прочитал великое множество кулинарных книг. Бьюсь об заклад, что его первый кулинарный шедевр будет совершенно неаппетитным. Или представьте себе художника, который никогда не брал в руки кисть. За пределами вводного изучения базовых концептов лучший способ лучше рисовать — это рисовать как можно больше.
Точно так же, создание и игра в собственный дизайн — лучший способ изучения работы и сбоя конкретных механик в самых различных ситуациях. Не забывайте также, что динамика возникает лишь в процессе игры, и некоторые ее проявления могут вас удивить.
“A good photograph is one that communicates a fact, touches the heart and leaves the viewer a changed person for having seen it. It is, in a word, effective.”
– Irving Penn
– Irving Penn
The Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941 can be best understood by remembering one quotation:
We have only to kick in the door and the whole rotten structure will come crashing down.
The Nazis were extremely confident of a quick and easy victory against the USSR in 1941, and in the first few months of the war, they didn't have much reason to re-evaluate. In the first two months of the war, the Nazis took over a frankly gigantic swath of territory, including what's now Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and a big chunk of both Ukraine and Belarus. The Soviets were falling back - and they'd continue to do so until December 1941, by which point the Nazis were at the gates of Leningrad and Moscow, and were also within striking distance of the Caucasus - which is to say, within striking distance of Soviet oil supplies.
If the Nazis had subsequently taken Moscow, then it's possible that the Soviet Union would have come crashing down. However, the Nazis were behind schedule and the Russian winter hit.
The mean daily temperature in Moscow in November is -1.2 °C and -7.6 °C in December.[1] From November to March, the mean daily temperature in Moscow does not climb above freezing - and that's just for an average winter. The winter of 1941-1942 was actually the coldest of the twentieth century.
If you want to have your soldiers in anything approximating fighting condition in that climate, you need to get them warm boots, warm gloves, warm hats and warm jackets. If you want them to actually be able to fight, there are extra supplies required for weapons maintenance in the cold that aren't required in temperate weather. Motorized vehicles are harder to maintain in the cold - just ask anyone who's had difficulty getting their car engine to turn over in the middle of a Toledo winter.[2]
Because the Nazis had expected a quick war, they had brought none of these supplies with them. Of course, Nazi Germany was an industrialized society, one where the military-first approach to the economy had led to shortages of wood and butter for civilians in the 1930's and that could therefore create these supplies. However, this ended up being rendered somewhat moot by two issues. First, the Nazis had 3.6 million troops in Russia that required the winter supplies. That's a lot of winter supplies to transport.
The second factor was that Operation Barbarossa had been far too successful for a military operation that had not achieved its primary objective of knocking the Soviets out. The result of this was that the Nazis had troops all over 1.3 million square kilometers[3] of Soviet territory - territory populated by people who, with very, very good reason, hated the Nazis and weren't much for cooperating with them.[4] And the people who most needed the supplies were furthest from where the supplies were created.
This would have made it difficult for the Nazis to supply themselves even under the best of circumstances - and the Nazis weren't experiencing those. Many of the roads the Nazis had to use to invade Russia were dirt roads. Dirt roads do cause more damage to automobiles and other mechanized vehicles than do paved ones, but that actually turned out to be of much less importance than Russian weather did. Specifically, it rains heavily during autumn in Russia. This period is known as the "rasputitsa," and during this time, if your road isn't paved, it's essentially a river of mud. It's hard enough to march men through that sort of terrain - getting vehicles laden with supplies through it is damn near impossible. To top it off, the Nazis didn't have anywhere near enough trucks to supply the invasion, so they were heavily reliant on horse-drawn wagons for logistic support.
The result was that, while the Nazis did manage to make it to the outskirts of Moscow, they only did so in December - and few people in the Third Reich had planned on the war running that long. Those winter supplies needed to fight? They didn't arrive in anywhere near the volume required, and many Wehrmacht soldiers died of exposure as a result.
The Soviets didn't have this p
We have only to kick in the door and the whole rotten structure will come crashing down.
The Nazis were extremely confident of a quick and easy victory against the USSR in 1941, and in the first few months of the war, they didn't have much reason to re-evaluate. In the first two months of the war, the Nazis took over a frankly gigantic swath of territory, including what's now Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and a big chunk of both Ukraine and Belarus. The Soviets were falling back - and they'd continue to do so until December 1941, by which point the Nazis were at the gates of Leningrad and Moscow, and were also within striking distance of the Caucasus - which is to say, within striking distance of Soviet oil supplies.
If the Nazis had subsequently taken Moscow, then it's possible that the Soviet Union would have come crashing down. However, the Nazis were behind schedule and the Russian winter hit.
The mean daily temperature in Moscow in November is -1.2 °C and -7.6 °C in December.[1] From November to March, the mean daily temperature in Moscow does not climb above freezing - and that's just for an average winter. The winter of 1941-1942 was actually the coldest of the twentieth century.
If you want to have your soldiers in anything approximating fighting condition in that climate, you need to get them warm boots, warm gloves, warm hats and warm jackets. If you want them to actually be able to fight, there are extra supplies required for weapons maintenance in the cold that aren't required in temperate weather. Motorized vehicles are harder to maintain in the cold - just ask anyone who's had difficulty getting their car engine to turn over in the middle of a Toledo winter.[2]
Because the Nazis had expected a quick war, they had brought none of these supplies with them. Of course, Nazi Germany was an industrialized society, one where the military-first approach to the economy had led to shortages of wood and butter for civilians in the 1930's and that could therefore create these supplies. However, this ended up being rendered somewhat moot by two issues. First, the Nazis had 3.6 million troops in Russia that required the winter supplies. That's a lot of winter supplies to transport.
The second factor was that Operation Barbarossa had been far too successful for a military operation that had not achieved its primary objective of knocking the Soviets out. The result of this was that the Nazis had troops all over 1.3 million square kilometers[3] of Soviet territory - territory populated by people who, with very, very good reason, hated the Nazis and weren't much for cooperating with them.[4] And the people who most needed the supplies were furthest from where the supplies were created.
This would have made it difficult for the Nazis to supply themselves even under the best of circumstances - and the Nazis weren't experiencing those. Many of the roads the Nazis had to use to invade Russia were dirt roads. Dirt roads do cause more damage to automobiles and other mechanized vehicles than do paved ones, but that actually turned out to be of much less importance than Russian weather did. Specifically, it rains heavily during autumn in Russia. This period is known as the "rasputitsa," and during this time, if your road isn't paved, it's essentially a river of mud. It's hard enough to march men through that sort of terrain - getting vehicles laden with supplies through it is damn near impossible. To top it off, the Nazis didn't have anywhere near enough trucks to supply the invasion, so they were heavily reliant on horse-drawn wagons for logistic support.
The result was that, while the Nazis did manage to make it to the outskirts of Moscow, they only did so in December - and few people in the Third Reich had planned on the war running that long. Those winter supplies needed to fight? They didn't arrive in anywhere near the volume required, and many Wehrmacht soldiers died of exposure as a result.
The Soviets didn't have this p
roblem. Anybody who lives in Moscow or St. Petersburg (then Leningrad) knows it's going to get cold. Anyone who ever sees the defense of those cities as desirable is therefore going to properly equip their troops for the cold - which the Soviets did. The result was that the Soviets were able to use the winter to harass the Germans at every opportunity, and the Germans spent the entire winter over-extended and on the back foot.
Life needs to be more than just solving problems every day. You need to wake up and be excited about the future, and be inspired, and want to live.