I've yet to see any evidence that Nikaidou GoldenKamuy DOESN'T reproduce by budding like a yeast 👀
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
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The original undress game from 2 years ago, re-uploaded
Btw here's the full and finished version for anyone interested 🔞
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LOOK AT CLERVIES NECKLACE
IT LOOKS LIKE ITS SUPPOSED TO BE THE LUMIDOUCE BELL
MOTHER WAS TAUNTING HER!!
AND SHE GOT THE STRENGTH TO FIGHT BACK AFTER LOOKING AT THE FLOWERS!!!
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correct me if im wrong but im PRETTY sure that for something to be a proper sequel it needs more than literally just reusing the same world and character models and slightly altering their design or adding an ability (that they got somwhere in between which isnt shown nor elaborated on either while previous abilities or interests/knowledge vanish)
made the mistake of saying that really totk isnt a sequel bc it doesnt build on, nor expand nor elaborate nor continue anything from botw, its the same preset of basic things like ... world and character models and tells an entirely different story utterly disconnected from anything botw, which it not only acts like it never happened (aside from like one dialog which is not enough for me when everyone else has literally forgotten everything and tbh feels more like a reference thats actually a slap and laugh in your face) but often times actively contradicts it, like a different version of the same thing
which is called an alternative universe
half of the reasons why i despise totk is bc i wanted, expected and was TOLD its a sequel when it isnt, can you really blame me for being disappointed and frustrated when i was told its a sequel, which should build on established stuff, to a game and its lore i deeply cared about and then get an alternative universe game that has nothing to do with the one i cared about except wear its face and STILL get told its a sequel even just by simply reusing models
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when lawyers are celebrities and all ace attorney merch exists within the same universe
(and when a prosecutor's husband commissions artists/merch creators online)
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