View Full Version : Machineflesh 3D Challenge Entry: Cori M Bucklin
03-16-2004, 11:57 PM
Cori M Bucklin has entered the Machineflesh 3D Challenge.
03-17-2004, 07:54 AM
Geeez, can't believe it starts over again! Good to see ya here too,
this is goin to be real fun, let it rock!:buttrock:
03-17-2004, 08:03 AM
Ah! I'm so glad to see your still alive!
Looking forward to see what you'll write here (and if you render something, that'll be cool too).
03-17-2004, 05:04 PM
Originally posted by JamesMK
Ah! I'm so glad to see your still alive!
Looking forward to see what you'll write here (and if you render something, that'll be cool too).
I told you he wasn't dead apparently the singing career didn't last.
Dont't mind me i just follow Jamesmk wherever he goes.
He has to be watched you know!
03-23-2004, 10:36 PM
uPDATE uPDATE! Start the bots!!!!
In an evil and dark time, when all sunlight has disappeared under poisonclouds and atomic mess, the last bioorganic units....
wheres ur progress mate!?!:bounce:
03-24-2004, 03:53 AM
The 1st Angel,
I entered too hastily.
I'm currently preoccupied hunting down a rogue bottle of Rolaids, which fell out of the bathroom cabinet, and under the oven. I believe the roaches have dragged it deeper into the walls.
Also, I must gather supplies. Perhaps I'll make shaving cream sculptures this time around. Or Bana Statues with match stick hair.
Confounded beetles! A rolaid pellet just skipped across my floor, and down the heater vent. I hear the scampering of exoskeletons everywhere.
Time for a cleansing of the basement.
By March 31st, I should have this all sorted out, and be able to post my first lousy, inappropriate, but brightly colored sketch.
Thank you for the kind encouragement.
Now, back to tapping the walls. . .
03-24-2004, 07:31 AM
Want to see the shaving cream sculptures soon.
Good luck with the roaches - may the dark side of the wabbit be with'ya.
03-26-2004, 03:21 AM
Bughunt.... U prolly use ur webcam and trow some old toymodel crap under there too, if its sticky nuf, it might selfcreate some weird machineflesh bugs,,, maybe the vent itself will look interresting. Make a mess a bless.
lol. No stress.
05-29-2004, 02:59 AM
And with 20 days, 22 hours, 18 minutes, and 32 Frickin' seconds left, I begin.
Grab your speedos. I'm determined to make a mess . . .
As you can see, I made this concept sketch by drawing with a pencil up my nose. Very advanced technique. To alleviate dizziness, just close your eyes. I found the image improved the less I actually "saw" it. Just let your sinuses do the work. AND DO NOT SNORT. The pencil may lodge itself beneath the cartiledge.
Then nobody will take you seriously.
Oh, and I wrote this while drawing, too (confusion makes sketching that much more exciting and revealing.)
CGNetworks MachineFlesh Challenge Chronicle:
Turkeys cannot be trained to catch Frisbees. Their only functions are to terrorize the world with constant gobbling, and, when everyone has had it with their obnoxious guttural chirps, get eaten.
In 2005, following the utter failure in a computer assisted art contest, a Mad Turkey Scientist (MTS) splices together an avian growth hormone which, when administered in lethal doses, produces giant baby turkeys, which peck out of their shells, inflate to a height of 150 feet in two horrid minutes of flapping and squawking, then flop over dead.
Since the abominable turkey corpse has the nutritional value of its weight in nuclear seepage and is a nuisance to cellophane for wholesale, various produce retailers refuse persistent attempts at delivery. However, the MTS is able to trade a few pints of the hormone serum to the Bulgarian Militia, via the internet and overnight mail, for a saucer of "magic beans."
Upon discovering the bean's only magic is to attract ants, the MTS declares war on the Bulgarian Militia, amplifies a new serum, and creates a 400 foot tall turkey, which tragically slams into his laboratory in one massive spastic death-twitch, reducing the workspace to dust, splinters, crumpled paper cups, beaker shards, compressed feathers, and a deflated hazmat suit.
During a sobbing fit, the MTS discovers a steady stream of ants chewing their way through the turkey's hormonally polluted meat. This cheers him up, as he envisions himself a giant ant, biting the heads off double-crossing, foreign militiamen.
A few hours later, he begins to hear an unpleasant mix of gnawing and gobbling. The turkey carcass begins to bubble and quake across the chest, then explodes, spraying a colony of giant, gobbling ants into the woods and bushes.
From within the carcass' gaping hole, behind the dripping gristle and swaying bands of fat soaked ligaments, the scientist hears a voice telling him, "Get me fifty tons of steel!"
Long story short:
The ants, after eating the turkey, become mutant hybrid super bugs, with a knack for war and sculpture. They're able to assemble raw materials by disassembling the MTS's neighborhood and converting the dead mound of turkey into a bloodthirsty Zombie cyborg mobile armored infantry unit, with side mounted blubber cannons, periscope, and a wet, squishy high velocity ejector rectum.
When the turkey weapon construction is completed, one summer evening many months from now, the MTS will stand on one leg, shake the other, stretch out his arms, and scream into the dying light of his dismembered neighborhood, "Its dead, but alive!" spin around, then scream at the left big toe of the 400 foot zombie bird of prey, "And I dub thee Turkulees, after the mighty Austrian-Greek bodybuilder and action movie star!"
The Master Mutant Ant, hearing this, will press the "walk" button, and steer the anointed big toe onto the MTS's big, fat head.
Thus, the carnage begins with a squish.
The Bulgarian Militia, with their faint supply of growth hormone serum, are among the few armies with the means to defeat the menace. However, since turkeys are not native to Bulgaria, no viable hosts are nearby in which to inject the serum.
Pitifully, the Militia also has no idea why in hellfire they traded away four of their yummy beans for a mostly empty milk carton of glow in the dark green slime. Thus, during a secret session of Bulgarian congress, the militia leaders unanimously condemn the internet, vow never again to trade beans for anything, then take turns stomping the milk carton into the parliment rug.
This, of course, makes them all very happy. They cheer, clap, giggle, and show absolutely no cognition that somewhere in the world, a giant, four million pound semi-mecha-bird controlled by talking, gobbling, war monger, turkey-scented carpenter ants is reducing the cities of man into rubble.
Thankfully, in 2006, a Mad Penguin Scientist (MPS) invents zombionic-turkey-seeking-hypersadistic-chirping-ant-vaporizing penguin-propelled torpedoes, and yet another global disaster takes a detour.
Thanks for glancing at yet another FRICKIN entry. Desparation makes contests more exciting.
Alright! The pencil fell out! I'm on my way.
05-29-2004, 07:46 AM
Cool concept, man! You have some funny Turkeys here :)
I'm curious about the final result, so please, show us more :applause:
Keep it up,
05-29-2004, 11:58 AM
Ah, now there's a story for ya, with all the expected elements of a true block buster (ok, maybe a straight-to-video release, but what's up with that? It's cool anyway.)
So, I'll be hanging around waiting for blubber cannons while watching my back for any stray members of the Bulgarian Militia.
Great to see you're back :thumbsup: !
05-29-2004, 07:30 PM
Cori (ravioli_rancher).............Wild concept/story,I like it.:thumbsup:
The trojan cyborg turkey will be one wild creation.I do feel sorry for the poor souls whom have to use the "Emergency ejector rectum"..................I think I would rather go down with the ship (I mean turkey in this case) than use that exit.......;)
Looking forward to seeing this get into 3D......Have fun.:cool: :beer:
05-29-2004, 09:17 PM
Anotropus, Virtuoso, JamesMK:
In addition to each of your enviable skills, you're all very adapt at flattering the inferior, which, as I'm sure you've all known for quite some time, helps the vote.
However, since all of you have taken the time and energy to encourage me, I predict hours of frustration when voting on which of your entires is the most disgusting and worthy of a prize.
Lucky for you, Enlightened Ones, more than one prize is on the table.
And if your only doing this for personal edification, then shame on you.
Back to my drivel:
Judge: That's not very sophisticated.
Contestant: Whaddaya mean? I'm modeling a turkey, which is difficult to model as it's constantly bobbing its small manic head, running around, gobbling in a horrible frenzy, and whatnot. I had to drug it and tie it to a wall.
Judge: Now look here, moron, we do not condone cruelty. Stop hurting edible farm animals.
Contestant: Edible? It still has feathers. I'm not swallowing feathers.
Judge: You're stupid. Grow up. Take this contest seriously, or I'll have you condemned.
Contestant: Ohhhh. I'll set the bird free, then, but I'm still modeling a turkey. Even if I have to tie up a stuffed animal and tape photographs to the soft, fuzzy fabric.
Meanwhile, in a slightly less sophmoric, but still completely annoying parralell universe:
Robotic engineers traditionally base their work on human anatomy. Machines will not be tolerated, after all, if they do not conform to the shape of the operator. Keypads fit the shape of fingers-tips, infrared goggles follow the eye socket's curvature, gas pedals extend the length of one's foot, and so on.
Ultimately, the focus is on making the machine the operator, an automaton. But, again, in order for the machine to become peacefully integrated into the society for which it was built, it must conform to the creator's own structure; made in his and her own image.
Of course, not all robotic engineers believe they are human...
Orphaned at birth, heaved into a tangle of blackberry bushes, then adopted and raised by wild turkeys, Dr. Squawk's internal vision of himself is horribly disfigured, tortuously deranged. Made fun of all his life for gobbling instead annunciating like a linguist, he harbors a deep resentment of his own life form. He is turkey. Hear him gobble: GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE! And nobody can convince him otherwise. GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE!
But, a turkey gets lonely when he is the only man of the herd. So, he teaches himself to read, by stealing Books on Tape from public libraries. First its Ball, Tree, Duck. Soon thereafter it's Biotechnology for Dummies coupled with Frankenstein. Finally, then, it's Pressure infiltration resistance of packed ceramics and pure silver with dissolved oxygen abrasive wear.
With this knowledge, he's able to first alter the turkey genome, and give rise to a giant breed of turkey, growing to a height of over 80 feet, from waddle top to talon. Though big, the new breed proves to be short lived, with a complete development cycle, egg to grave, lasting a brisk eight months.
Knowing his family might gobble at him suspiciously, he grows only one batch of Giant Turkeys, six eggs all sexless. He raises them deep in the forest, were they eat bears and bobcats, wayward hunters and naturalists, scratch out iron ore from the hillside, and peck away aluminum panels and all manner of electric devices from state parks and ranger stations.
Within two years, amidst persistent rumors of giant three toed aliens haunting the Appalachian Forest, Dr. Squawk, self taught turkey, assembles a 200 foot tall, eighty-eight ton Turkey Tank, with side mounted cannons and an emergency ejector rectum. The brains of all six hatchlings, rapidly extracted from the bird corpses hours after death, connected with telephone poles and wires, form a neural net, able to calculate six times more gobbles than any turkey ever born.
With Dr. Squawk deep in the belly, loading desiccated organs into the cannons, his voice echoes up through the neck and into the neural net: GOBBLE! GOBBLE! GOBBLE! GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE! One lonely scientist. One giant zombie tank. Two missions: To find others, born human, but raised fowl, and make all mankind fear the very word: turkey.
05-31-2004, 11:44 PM
Z-spheres..................Hearing more and more of these z-spheres everyday Cori...................I hope to see more as you started now,I have some interest as well in seing the process firsthand...............Nice start,the concept/story is wild and interesting,looking forward to the next step..............:thumbsup: :cool:
06-01-2004, 11:42 PM
I detonated the lousy fowl in LightWave, and will model each bit, one at a time in ZBrush (where I plan to do everything else, including rendering and post work).
Much less confusing.
Also, turkeys have feathers AND hair. And they're carnivorous.
Creepy little scallywags.
Thanks for posting again. I'll show some screenshots of my ZBrush workspace, to give you a better idea of the workflow.
It's a program that's easy to stumble over initially, but quickly becomes a fun craving.
Like soft boiled turkey feet.
Or whatever dismembered gobble goo make you tingle.
Enough commerical. Back to mangling the mesh.
06-01-2004, 11:51 PM
That's absolutely fabulous! :D
And the model looks cool too.
Now, if you'll excuse me while I'm off to find some inferiors to flatter :wavey:
06-02-2004, 07:27 PM
yes keep it coming cori..................very interesting to see the process with these tools,your results are coming along very well,a wild concept,original and zesty...............:thumbsup: :buttrock:
06-04-2004, 09:57 PM
Six days into this, and I realize I'd rather be wrastlin' in pudding with French-Speakin', professional volleyball Bimbos.
So, Here's some wrinkly, pussy bird meat, in my silly ZBrush Desktop.
06-04-2004, 10:00 PM
Though I don't know what the buttons do, I press them.
Thus, the turkey.
When modeling in ZBrush, there are only four buttons you need to push.
1. The Zphere.
2. The Alpha.
3. The Brush Mode.
4. Projection Master.
Equiped only with this knowledge, it's now taken me six days to paint bumps onto a decapitated turkey head.
Clearly, I need to be pressing more buttons. :)
06-05-2004, 10:09 AM
I'm not really sure whether you are enjoying your Zbrushing or not :curious: - but the results look mighty fine to me! Particularly, I must say, the lowest part of the turkey neck which has a certain resemblance to small pieces of spaghetti in tomato sauce, no doubt a good choice for a professional ravioli wrangler with a desire to make a career move towards french pudding wrestling.
I cannot see any other possible outcome than that you will be able to deliver a tasty 200-foot bird, with a few brave commando soldiers fleeing out its rectal exit while screaming and cursing french insults incriminating the turkey's mother in a most hideous way, while they're frantically pressing 'G' on their laptops covered with turkey intestine fuzz and feathers smeared across their useless TFT displays.
It's never the tool - always the concept and the creator.... you've got those down fine.... sproing sproing.
01-17-2006, 06:00 PM
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