SirTimberWolf

Hey there! Guess what I'm doing... Something insane. I'm giving away my first novel, The Sphinx Gambit, at 50% off on Smashwords for the next 15 days. Fifteen whole days for cheap novely goodness. Aren't I magnanimous? :) No strings attached, no marketing fluff and no BS. The following link will take you to the page and if you decide you like the sample, simply enter coupon code MB67K when ordering. This also includes a free 2000 word short set in the same world with many of the same characters. https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/352716 What's it about? A psychopath offers a woman the cure for the zombie plague that is killing her friend, unfortunately to get it, she will have to answer deadly riddles as she travels through the necropolis that once was Ether City. Aided by a brilliant but dangerous teenage programmer with an agenda of her own, Cora fight for every moment, but in this game of cat and mouse, there are no winners. Take a gander and let me know what you think, I'd be happy to hear your thoughts!

Eyes of the Valkyrie A Sphinx's Heros Short Laura rocked back in the chair as the thumping bass from her sound system vibrated the press board desk on which she had propped her feet. The bank of flat panel monitors attached to the wall each displayed roughly the same thing; cells the size of an index card neatly arranged in a grid pattern with a high angle shot of the streets below. Through the cameras on her radio controlled helicopters, Laura had coverage of most of the eastern part of Ether City. Too bad the scenery hadn't changed any. Bodies rotting in the sun, blood soaked trash that stirred between the empty buildings. Occasionally a zombie would wander into frame and the drone would pivot on its axis to get a shot of it. Boring. Ether city was terribly boring. “Find him yet?” Laura grabbed a juice box, realizing it was empty she frowned and threw it on the pile beside her. A high pitched voice filled computer's internal speaker. “No, mistress!” “Come on, there's gotta be someone doing something.” “Would you like me to replay a previous discussion, mistress?” “Any luck finding working wifi?” “No, mistress! You told me to let you know if I found any and since I haven't informed you of any such findings, it can be assumed I haven't!” Laura quirked a brow. “When'd you get so snarky?” “You told me too, mistress!” “Whatever, bring up the feed from unit eight.” A halo of teal outlined one of the video feeds and the image expanded to take up the full screen. Strung up between two of the National Guard armored personnel carriers was a slab of meat, dangling about four feet from the ground, it should have been an easy target unless the Siren had seen the trap. “Val, didya catch any glimpse of the Siren?” “Yes, mistress! The zombie known as the Siren--” “Hold it. Rephrase, 'the Siren'. Single possessive, don't be a dink.” “The Siren, then, mistress. She tripped over the wire and continued on looking for food, mistress.” “Uh huh, so why didn't she take the food?” “Speculation is beyond my programming, mistress! You should fix that!” “Shush--” A Hello Kitty image popped up over the bobbing feed from the drone waving her stubby little arms. “Mistress! Target sighted! Mistress!” “Let's see it, then! Hold frame on him, I'm gonna get some popcorn.” “He's moving fast, mistress!” Laura sighed. “Fine, fine,” she threw her arms out and shouted triumphantly. “Let the show begin!” Perfectly rendered in high definition was the Sphinx, a short man wearing flowing blue silk clothes and a matching cloak. He was running along the very edge of a curb, dodging between acid marred sedans and a couple of police cars with bullet holes in them. He was still wearing the body armor and chrome mask he had stolen from one of Laura's minions. She needed to get those back sometime. He was in the shadier part of town heading towards the Chicken King restaurant. Laura had to smile. Someone had been a naughty turnip. “Get me a wider view.” The helicopter kept up with him easily, its electronic motor barely made a whisper of sound as it sailed higher and panned around the block around the restaurant. Val was getting better at compensating for wind. When had that happened? A man had set up beside the two overturned cars that blocked off the entrance to the building. He raised his handgun and fired several rounds at the Sphinx as a pair of men snuck around the edge between the gas station and alley and into the restaurant. They must have really screwed up. Laura reached for another juice box and her hand grabbed empty air. She frowned but didn't look away. For all that he lacked in size, the Sphinx made up for with brass gonads. He didn't dodge bullets or try to hide. He strolled through gunfire. Even when they had first encountered him the night of the riots, she had heard whispers saying the guy was neigh invulnerable. She wouldn't go to any great lengths to prove the rumors wrong, she wasn't as savage as some of the people she employed and it wasn't like anyone would care anyway. Besides he was amusing to watch. Some guy with a comic book persona and the balls to wear it with a straight face? Oh yes, amusement abounded. The Sphinx stepped up beside the police car and the man standing guard watched him, weighing his chances at getting another shot off, if it would even do any good. The shooting was already going to attract zombies, he may as well have. He didn't, though. He stepped back into the shade of the barricades and disappeared inside, slamming the door behind him. “Val, get me a ground cart. Something quiet.” “Sure!” “Sure what?” Laura tutted. “Silly AI.” “Yes, oh magnanimous, monomaniacal and narcissistic mistress!” Laura blew her purple bangs out of her eyes. “When'd you get so snarky, hm?” “Because you told me to!” She scoffed. On the screen, the Sphinx was approaching the restaurant with his hand reaching for a pouch on his armor-- on Laura's armor-- he slapped a small formed block of explosive against the front door's lock and went around to the back. That's when Laura noticed the two white tanks hooked up to the air conditioning unit and a gaggle of pipes running into the lines. “Mistress! He's making a call!” “To who?” “The number he's been calling associated with Tyler's group!” Laura already knew what it was. The traders had played with fire and now they wanted out but they didn't understand that the Sphinx played for keeps. She smirked. “I don't need to hear it but give me the highlights. If anything of value gets said, weapons caches and stuff like that.” “Can do!” She leaned forward and grabbed a joint from the glass ash tray beside the monitor as the Sphinx crested the top of the roof using his own rope. “Ooh! He's put chlorine in the air lines and he's promising them a way out if he'll answer his riddles!” Laura chuckled. “Sounds about right. Second chance?” “Last chance!” “Ten SecUCoins on them biting it.” “That's beyond my programming, mistress.” She sighed. “Whatever, get me a ground unit out there, I wanna watch this.” “Already on its way, mistress!” “Any pickup from their phone?” “Yep! They don't have ammunition but they're going to bind up the vents!” “Good luck with that. . . Chlorine weighs more than oxygen. So sorry but A for effort.” She lit up her joint. Another predictable outcome. “See, if I was them, I'd be shooting through the roof. . . Damn the ammunition problems, you're out of time anyway!” “They considered that, mistress. They say they're going to survive.” A single gunshot was picked up by the drone's microphone. “There goes one. Who was it?” Laura took a deep drag. “Jason. They're arguing about the riddle and how it was all Jason's fault.” The Sphinx turned the valves on the tanks and flipped a switch on a small box he had hooked up to the AC unit. He stepped back and circled the edge of the roof once, watching a hand full of zombies approach from downtown. He was restless. “That's a shame. He was the brains of the outfit as far as I'm concerned. What's the riddle?” “It is: Listen closely, I am hard to understand , I am as elusive as is a handful of sand. Even if you perceive me, you know me not before you can tell me, what I have forgot.” Val chimed. Laura bobbed her foot casually, considering the structure of the riddle while the Sphinx continued to pace the roof. The answer was easy, very easy, but the reason behind the riddle and the subtext were what she was more interested in. He had been the only person in her life to offer any sort of challenge, to work in layers that most people missed. Even the so called intelligent ones. Abruptly it clicked into place and she laughed. “Oh, you poor screwed up person. . . Too bad you didn't wanna play with me any more.” She took a pull from her joint and closed her eyes. Coughing, she chuckled. He was more screwed up than she was, how beautifully ironic. “Dude needs some serious therapy.” Maybe it was more telling than ironic. Did she know anyone like that? Probably no one she would bother to remember. The doors of the Chicken King burst open. Two men ran out. A flash of light burst from the right door. A second later the drone picked up the sound. Phwoom. The explosion was small scale, enough to blow the first two men into the side of the nearest car. Each probably had their insides shredded by shrapnel from the frame. The last one staggered out behind them coughing and hacking, gasping and clutching his throat in a silent scream. He dropped a few feet away. The sphinx looked over the edge at the mess he had made. Then, to Laura's surprise, he looked right up at her drone. He reached for the touchscreen computer on his forearm. Laura's personal cell phone rang. A bobbling head wearing a chrome mask swayed back and forth under his title 'Lame Ass Super Villain'. Laura picked up on the second ring. “Pros and cons of this exchange. Go!” His robotic voice grated against her ear. “This is not a spectator sport, we have parted ways, let us remain amicable.” Laura laughed. “Yeah, dude. Amicable like a chlorine milkshake. So now that you're out of playmates, what's next?” The man inhaled deeply as he wandered over towards the canisters and closed the valves. He looked almost. . . sad. “The hunt continues.” “Oooh, I bet you have someone in mind.” “I do. . .” “Oh, oh, oh, can I see?” Even as she said it, Laura was grabbing her wireless keyboard, opening a terminal window and using her drone's on board wifi relay to connect to his helmet's communications rig. He paused for a moment and looked up at her drone. “Ground unit available, mistress!” Somehow he had locked it out. Laura frowned. “Clever boy. . .” “You may,” he said softly. “On condition that you do not interfere.” “Do I ever?” Laura keyed up her radio controlled truck and navigated around the corpses into the restaurant. “So what's the name?” “Here. . . The port is open.” “Val, grab that.” The inside of the restaurant looked pretty mundane. Paper had been wrapped around the florescents to keep them from showing through slats in the windows. Their supplies had been emptied out and boxes were strewn about. None of it useful. “Hmph.” “Files are downloaded, mistress.” “Fine. Get the truck back in the air. . . Let's have a look.” She flipped through the files, starting with a dubiously named 'Dossier'. It even included a photo he had taken himself. “Mmm, I didn't know you went for eye candy.” “Read carefully.” Laura skimmed a few lines. Cora Whitehall, high school graduate, some community service with the local baptists ministry, lived in Detroit most of her life, decent IQ with a strong emphasis on creative problem solving. . . “Okay, so what's so special--” Then she found it. “Oh. . .” “Precisely.” “Oh, this is gonna be fun. Dibs!” “This is not a game, this is a woman's life.” “Heh, heh. Dude. . . Do you even hear yourself? Yeah, nice try, buddy. Life's kindda valueless these days if you haven't noticed.” She killed the connection. “Val, find me this chick's number and where she's at, I'm gonna go for a walk.” The story continues in 'The Sphinx Gambit' Cora Whitehall came to Ether City to hide from her past, little did she know that the city had its own dark secret. Five weeks later the streets are crawling with zombies, the local National Guard has been decimated and all forms of communication are cut off. Nothing goes in and no one comes out. If it were just her, it wouldn't be so bad but Cora isn't alone. A little girl she saved was bitten during the Guard's rescue attempt. When Cora's supplies and hopes at their lowest, she is offered a chance at redemption. The Sphinx offers his cure but at a price, it must be won in a game of wits with nothing held back and everything on the line. Aided by a brilliant but dangerous teenage programmer with an agenda of her own, Cora will challenge the Sphinx and even other survivors in hopes of getting the cure before the girl turns. Yet what she doesn't know is that in this game of cat and mouse, there are no winners. Available September 1st on Amazon, Smashwords, Barns and Noble and Kobo. Learn more and Download a free sample chapter at http://johnenright.info Thank you very much for downloading this piece of my fiction, I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. If you would like to check out some of my other works, including those set in this world and others, you can find them at http://johnenright.info

==== Author's Note: Thank you for clicking the link and taking time out of your life to read my work. I am not exactly familiar nor completely comfortable with the short story format so any (constructive) critiques you wished to share would be most welcomed. This is a story that has been itching at the back of my mind for a while now, even if I wasn't sure how I would put it. I'll not spoil it but I like to think it asks a question I often ask myself-- in the heat of the moment, when things are spinning out of control, 'how will you respond'? I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. ==== Early Withdrawl The Sanders Savings and Loan was located at the intersection of Teal and Arrow streets, clad in marble and car sized panes of glass, the phallic monument to capitalism shadowed a number of mom and pop stores during the morning and the road in the afternoon before eclipsing itself as the sun dropped off the horizon. Paul had seen the sun dial effect many times from the safety of his tenth story apartment and now, standing in the shadow of the building he could feel the sweat beading up on his forehead and sending a chill through his body. He clenched his VA check tightly in one hand and took a breath to steady himself. The parallel lines that corralled commuters between sidewalks gleamed in the afternoon sun, somehow managing to avoid the shadow of the building. Paul slipped into the flow of traffic, straddling the line as best he could without making himself a target while keeping a wary eye on the windows of the buildings overlooking the street. Children rode their bikes hastily across the intersection and sidewalks and the women wore their sensuality like a physical thing that clung to the air around them. Tight shirts and tighter jeans hugged their curves which they rolled with daring allure and practiced grace as though their bodies were advertisements meant to capture the attention of both men and women. It seemed business was good. Paul eyed a suspicious looking trash can as he made his way toward the cover of the bank's shadow, bounding the first step and the second. He slid in and pulled the door closed behind him, trading the stink of garbage and car exhaust for the cocktail of paper, carpet cleaner and ink that permeated the lobby. A small crowd had gathered in neat rows in front of the tellers, speaking with them in hushed but polite tones. One of the few things that had not changed, Paul noticed, since returning to the states. People maintained a politeness in daily business that usually precluded their real feelings from the equation. They didn't get emotional over little things and if one was careful, one could even catch a glimpse of someone smiling as they lost everything. They probably told themselves the same thing that Paul had, 'it will all work out'. They had not come to understand what Paul had; Americans were masters of self delusion. Things never got better, your knees never stopped aching, your back never stopped hurting. The night sweats never went away. All that anyone could do was hide and hope when it came their turn, they could stand up on their own. Paul wandered over to the table with the deposit slips and snatched one up, jotting down his information as quickly as possible. After making sure all the numbers were perfectly formed he opened his check and tucked the deposit slip in. He turned to join the other patrons reluctantly. No sooner did he move than the front door opened and in stepped a vulpine woman in a three piece suit. Designer label with a perfect cut to accent her humanoid figure. Her coppery fur stood out against the soft charcoal of her suit and even her meticulously maintained brown hair seemed at odds with what she was wearing. She fidgeted ever so slightly, her bushy tail giving a small twitch as she licked her lips. She let out a small huff of uncertainty while her gaze swept over the group of humans. When her chocolate eyes met Paul she tried to smile. Paul turned his back, frowning. The cruel mockery of humanity shuffled her way up to the back of the line and reached into her pocket, removing whatever paperwork she had that required a banker's attention. Her humanoid feet had been crammed into a pair of black heels that almost matched the soot coloring of her foot fur. Paul found himself staring in wonder, even if unintentionally. A paper slid free from her packet and tumbled off onto the ground. Paul watched it until it touched the carpet at which point his eyes settled on a fake plant behind the teller's stalls. Whether unaware or unconcerned, the 'woman' didn't pick it up. Didn't even seem to notice. Paul ignored it as the line advanced. Closer and closer, one after another until he was next in line. A woman screamed by the door. Everyone turned to see three men with AK-47's and ski masks walk in. The two rounded opposite sides of the door and one went for the tellers stalls. “Get on the ground! EVERYONE!” His body was conditioned for instant reaction, he dropped to the carpet before anyone else did. Some part of him wanted to feel ashamed but as the others got to their knees and eventually laid prone he understood he had nothing to be ashamed of. The men had guns, he didn't. This wasn't Afghanistan, he had no back up and no hope of overpowering three men. A baby cried out as the man grabbed a canvas bag from his belt and shook it out, tossing it to the nearest teller. “Fill it! No dye packs and no silent alarms!” he worked the safety with his thumb. “Now!” “I- I- I-” “Now!” One of the other men gave up his position near the door to circle the bank patrons and check the offices. The baby continued to cry, his pitch growing louder even as his mother tried to cover his mouth. The man with the bag swung his rifle towards her. “Shut that kid up!” She screamed, “please!” The other patrons subtly moved away from the woman even as the other robber approached. “You shut that kid up or I will.” “Please--” The vulpine creature pushed up slowly with her hands raised in a sign of nonaggression and spoke in a voice that was smooth and careful as though every syllable was made of gold and missing even one would cost a fortune. “Sir, if the woman could leave with her child,” she took a very carefully measured half step toward the woman. “It would do no harm to your plans.” “We got a hero!” The man nearest the door shouldered his rifle and suddenly the other 2 were aiming at her. “No,” the fox creature's tail twitched but she stood her ground. Paul could see the trembling in her knees as she edged closer to the screaming child and its mother. “I just don't want to see any bloodshed here. You'll get your money and these people go home. Everyone can win. . .” “Fill the bag!” The man nearest the tellers shouted at them. “You,” he looked back to the creature who had since managed to get close to the woman. “Get the fuck back down!” The baby bawled a shrill cry that ripped through the bank. Someone muttered “kid is going to get us all killed” while the men shifted their aim from the creature to their temporary hostages. “It's going to be okay,” she was saying. “Everyone's going to walk out of here just fine, let's not do anything foolish.” The tellers riffled through their tills and poured the contents into the bag, passing it amongst themselves before they started to hand it back to the man with the gun. When he didn't take it immediately the tellers looked at each other. The creature had gained his attention and for it everyone was in danger. He stepped right up to her and snarled in a low voice. “Get down or I'll put you down, mutt.” “Don't hurt these people--” was as far as she got before the robber turned his rifle over and smashed the buttstock into her face. She had seen it coming and turned slightly to avoid having it hit her muzzle but not enough to avoid it entirely. The creature staggered from the blow, almost landing atop the woman and her child. The robber behind Paul stepped over him. Directly over him. He could have reached out and touched the man yet he didn't, so transfixed by the sight that he barely felt his own heart beating. Both men towered over her as she tried to rise to her knees. She had deliberately landed between the men and the child who's screams now resounded throughout the entire building. As she forced herself up Paul could see blood streaked the right side of her face like a crimson tear. She wiped at her face and let out a shuddering sob, looking up at the men with her ears laid flat back. She rose painfully to her knees and swallowed. “Please,” her voice cracked. “No one needs to get hurt.” They looked at each other and then her. The man who had stepped over Paul leveled the muzzle of his rifle at her face and the woman's eyes locked on it. “Open your mouth.” “This isn't necessary,” she said. “You have your money, stop scaring these people.” “I said open!” He booted her in the stomach. Paul's stomach clenched as the woman doubled over, throwing her bushy tail up to shield the child from their view. “Please,” she groaned and coughed. “Look at this shit. . .” The leader stepped on her back and jerked his foot down hard enough to slam her chest to the carpet. “Not so tough are ya, mutt?” He kicked again. “We got the money,” said the man by the door. “Let's go.” “No, fuck that. . .” The leader jacked the bolt of his rifle open and chambered a round with a thick metal clack. “This is what happens to heros.” The fox woman slid to her knees once more, started to rise. The leader booted her over and instead of landing on her back she pivoted away from the woman and her child, clawing towards an open sspace on the floor. She looked up at him as the barrel of the gun rose to meet her. Paul swallowed. Both men aimed at her. Paul pushed up slowly and stepped closer. The men turned their weapons on him but he continued on undeterred, placing himself between their rifles and the woman in the suit. “No,” he whispered. “No more.”

It's been a very long time since I touched an editor but I'm certain you could do it with a camtex lump (check the wiki) and a couple of linedefs that are nested within the wall-- about 1px away from the surface, maybe? I don't know.

Got another email today: Hey there everyone, For the last while I’ve been writing a fan fiction ~mostly~ based on CoA’s version of FR cannon that’s based on a character I played for a long while and after getting the second volume on it done, I thought I had a fairly significant body of work (in terms of word count) so I figured I’d share it and see if anyone out there might be interested in a little light Dungeons and Dragons fan fic reading. I don’t know if there are many readers out there but I thought I’d put the link up anyway in hopes that someone might find it interesting and it’d keep me motivated to write more on it as well as work on other (salable) works. Kathrine Stoneriver is a young priestess in service to Chauntea who’s fallen into a portal taking her on a whirlwind tour of the multi-verse. Her new friend has a secret and holds a relic that can give someone anything they want, even godhood. Yet the people she’s stolen it from not only want it back, but know her secret. The conflict will test every moral sense Kat has and in the end will force her to choose her duty as a friend or her duty to the gods she’s sworn to serve. Rated T for some minor cursing and implied sexuality (nothing explicit, you needn’t fear blush factor) So, below is the link. Please feel free to send your thoughts to my PM box either good bad or indifferent or post them here if you don’t care whether or not others read them. If something doesn’t strike your fancy and you have ~constructive~ criticism to add, don’t feel you need to hold back, I have thick skin and I want to get better at the craft. Volume Break Down: (Each volume contains around 5 chapters) Volume 1: Prologue http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/1/The_Missionary Volume 2: Cold as Hell http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/2/The_Missionary Volume 3: All Hands on Deck (Where Bree is introduced) http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/7/The_Missionary Volume 4: Book Worms http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/17/The_Missionary Volume 5: Dangerous Game http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/22/The_Missionary Volume 6: Inter-Planar Travel Agents http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/27/The_Missionary Volume 7: Lost and Found http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/33/The_Missionary Volume 8: Time of Need http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/37/The-Missionary As of the start of Volume 8, we're at 130 thousand words. Plenty to sink your teeth into if you find the dish to your liking.

A friend of mine has been working on a fantasy story revolving around an old Dungeons and Dragons character she used to/still (?) plays. I told her I'd pass it on as she's trying to build a readership so feel free to comment either on FFN or here. Comments and crits of course are welcome. fanfiction.net/s/8011014/1/

Still going pretty strong. Just under 50k words total now too.

Another update was added. Biggie, too.

Got an email today: I gave the new stuff a read over and I gotta say it came out quite good. Feel free to take a read, I'm sure it'd be appreciated.

Updated with the beginning of volume 3. http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8011014/7/The_Missionary Shaping up to be an interesting yarn so far.

Just dropping a note to say that the current arc is completed but the next should start fairly soon. Stop on by and give it a read!

Yep, you're on the right track with the name of the images. To add the markers, just use SLADE or XWE and add a lump, rename it to HI_START/HI_END and make sure all your high res images are between those two markers.

I finally got through this masterpiece of mapping. You sir, are my new hero. :) I loved the maps, especially the refueling base, that was amazing. I /sincerely/ look forward to more, keep it up!

I too am interes-ed- in such endevors. I'd -highly- suggest checking out absolutewrite.com/forums They have boards for all kinds of writing from all skill levels, though it is mainly geared toward novelests, there's plenty of stuff to read and poke around on.

Nice work everyone. I just got my stuff moved in so I thought I'd anny up with what I had so far. . . Not a whole lot but that pesky real life thing getting in the way slowed me down. . . Heh. I did change it to map07 to make use of the 666/667 specials. Before: http://img213.imageshack.us/i/screenshotdoom200907021.png/ http://img397.imageshack.us/i/screenshotdoom200907021.png/ After: http://img11.imageshack.us/i/screenshotdoom200907021.png/

I will see what I can do. That'll be my first task, in fact.

I think I'll be working on Doomsday of the UAC One of my all time favorite levels. http://www.doomworld.com/idgames/index.php?id=420 I'll try to post progress shots as I get time.

Excelent. Thanks for the quick reply :) Regarding the textures specifically: http://doomworld.com/idgames/?id=11882 I'd suggest avoiding new textures (outside of maybe 'fixing' shawn1 but I deffer to your judgment on the matter. I'll definitely be keeping tabs on this and when I have the time, I'll be submitting some work for it.

I dig this idea a lot. Have you got a timeframe you're looking for? I'm in the middle of a move right now so I can't really put any time down but I'd like to give it a go. The general consensus seems to be 'use common sense' when doing these maps. Bring out the concept as best you can without starting from scratch. Is that a fair assestment? Also, I didn't notice but is there a specific port to be aiming for or are we looking for just 'limit removing'?

Yeah, I know but it seems to help me focus on just the layout :p As for the plasma, that was the intent, yeah. I might change it a little but it seems easy enough to get. Maybe change the item in there to something more desirable. Thanks for the feedback :)

It's been quite a while since I opened an editor but I thought I'd give it another go. While I'm messing around with textures for this, I'd really like some input on the layout of this map. It's designed for 2v2 or 4 way FFA but I'm not sure it flows right. Any input would be welcomed. http://www.mediafire.com/file/khnjmcgktml/ATLAS_DM_Layout00.wad

... Look, dude, making a project of that kind of scale takes an incredible ammount of work. It takes infinitely -more- work to make it -good-. Look at some of the development times on projects like "The Island" http://www.doomworld.com/idgames/index.php?id=12819 Or Cold as Hell, KDiZD, Shotgun Frenzy or a multitude of other wads. These projects are massive in their relative scale due to the amount of time, effort and design that had to go into them to make them work. As someone who's started and fell flat on more projects than he can count on his hands, I offer this token of advice, take it or leave it. Your project is absolutely meaningless until such a time that you: A) Prove you have the skill to pull off something WORTHY of attracting the help you want (regardless of what skillset you're looking for) and more importantly: B) Show that you are in it for the long term, have -significant- work to show. Levels complete, story in place and so on. Further to that, the vast majority of the community is interested in -their- projects and -their- interests. Chances are quite good that you'll never draw (pardon the pun) a good spriter because, quite simply, the good ones are busy doing other things that they find more interesting/personally rewarding/what have you. The sprites you have shown already aren't terrible, while they certainly won't win any awards at least your brother (I believe?) is honing a very time consuming albiet rewarding skill. Don't worry about the visuals until you have your stuff laid out and do some poking around for other character/model rips if you're dead set on that kind of thing. You can do quite a lot of interesting stuff with resources already available but -your- main concern should be making your project fun and interesting, both for your player -and- you. -Timber

As much as it sucks to hear about a teenage life being cut short. . . You, my dear, got owned. Now if we could put these fuck wits driving their urban combat vehicles (SUV's) while talking about meaningless bullshit on their cellphones in the dirt, my life would be complete. If it's going to possibly kill you or someone else, please, don't do it.