Tuesday, December 22, 2015

My Fucked Up Dream: “Mage's Pharmacy”

I was able to sleep in late for the first time in a while and I had another one of my crazy detailed dreams. This one was a strange combination of my experience working in a pharmacy mixed with Wonderland. This one was so memorable, I wrote it all down and created ten threshold images to depict exactly what I experienced. Click on each picture to see the full sized image. It's a wild one, enjoy.

I dreamt I was picking up some hours working a shift in this tiny hole in the wall pharmacy called, "Mage’s Pharmacy". The entire day no one came to drop off or pick up any prescriptions. It was only me and the pharmacist, who was asleep the entire day. Halfway through my shift, I saw a pop up on the computer for 6 QTY of "Qwazitrex Triphazimate 10,000mg Mega Capsules" for a "Wizman, Merlow". The price was several thousand dollars. I was like, ok then, printed out the label, and went to the pill bottle shelves to find this weird drug. There was only a few bottles for Q, but I couldn't find Qwazitrex. I looked at the label again. It said it was a generic for “Actual Real Magic”. I then realized that it was labeled N because it’s a narcotic. I woke up the pharmacist because I’m not supposed to fill narcotics as a technician. In a grumpy delirium he told me to just go look in the last isle of pills. So, I went to the isle and discovered that it was longer than the others, obnoxiously long, more like a narrow corridor wall to wall with pill bottles. The entrance was labeled "Rare RTS" (return to stock).

The Rare Return to Stock Isle
On the left side was the As and on the right side was the Zs. It extended back hundreds of feet and was dimly lit. As I walked down I glanced at the bottles, the farther I got the odder the bottles and drug names became. The bottles began to be shaped more like chemistry beakers and vials of potions with strange names I can’t even remember. Finally, I reached the end of the hallway, now lit by candles between the bottles, and found that the end wall was for Qs.

Pill bottles. potions, and candles
There were a bunch of other strange bottles and names but at the very bottom I found the QWA designation, but there were as no bottles there. I crouch to reach down to reach back and see if there’s one back against the wall and find that there’s no back wall, in fact there’s just a hole. I lost my balance and fell in. I found myself in a dark cave. I make my way through this zigzagging system of tunnels lined with candles, various bottles, and glowing crystals. Strange low pitched drones and dripping echoed through the caverns. With every step there was a crunch, thousands of varying tablets and capsules littered the floor. Finally, I found the end of the cave; it was an immaculately carved hallway lined with carpeting leading to several alcoves, the word QWAZITREX carved into the rock above. A gnome in a tiny lab coat was at the entrance with a clipboard, he didn’t look up at me. He held his hand out, expecting me to hand him something. I gave him the prescription label. He looked up at me with an annoyed glare. “Creds.” he said in a surprisingly deep voice. I gave him my credentials. He looked me up and down, wrote something on his clipboard, gave me a rather large burlap sack, and unhooked the red rope to let me into the hallway.

The Qwazitrex pharmacy gnome
Each alcove had a small gnome-sized hole, but were titled in strange runes I didn’t understand above the entrances. I crawled through the first opening into a chamber with several regular yellow bottles on a table. They were for Qwazitrex Triphazimate, but just as I was about to take a bottle I realized that the dosage was only 100mg, I needed 100 times that amount. I walked down the hallway into another entrance where I found a huge chamber with a single massive red bottle at least two stories high for a 1,000,000mg dosage. I walked back to the gnome and asked where the 10,000mg was because I couldn’t read the runes. “Are you certified?” He asked “Not yet.” I said. “You’re not even supposed to be down here then.” He said annoyed. “This is the only fill I’ve had today.” I said. “Listen kid, do you realize that mortals wait their whole lives to even hope to get a glimpse of a single tablet of Qwazi? Did you even take the online module? This shit’s dangerous.” I didn’t remember taking any module. “No.” He gave me a really agitated look. “Mr. Gnome…” I began to say. “I have a goddamn name.” He blurted. I looked at his nametag. Chauncy Grimbo. I held back laughter as such a silly name. “Mr. Grimbo, I’m only picking up some hours here. I’m part time, I just started a few months ago.” He rubbed his brow, sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Third to the left. Don’t tell management you were even here.” I climbed in the specified hole to find several very large orange bottles, over a meter tall labeled for 10,000mg capsules of Qwazitrex Triphazimate.

Giant bottles for Qwazitrex Triphazimate 10,000 mg
I went over to the bottle with a big black X marked on it, meaning it had already been opened, wrapped my arms around the lid and with a lot of force was able to remove it. A very strong sulfury yet sweet stench permeated the bottle, like rotten eggs mixed with cotton candy. Inside were many football sized capsules. I took one out to examine it; one side was a marbled purple and the other one was translucent revealing that it was filled with thousands of similar yet regular sided capsules, each filled with tiny balls of every color of the rainbow. It looked absolutely fucking ridiculous. I took out six and fit them snugly into my sack and made for the Qwazitrex entrance. “Tell no one what you’re carrying. You’re lucky this is my last century here.” “Thanks, Chauncy.” I said. “Don’t fucking speak to me.” He growled under his beard.

A single unit of Qwazitrex Triphazimate
Tracing my steps back to the Rare RTS hallway proved to be harder than finding the Qwazitrex hoard. All of a sudden I heard the sound of shaking pill bottles in front of me. I took a candle off the ground and lifted it up to illuminate the area. An old ragged man stood with a long white beard wearing nothing but a dirty tattered lab coat with the title “Pharmacist” sewn into it, pockets filled with loose pills and bottles. “Are you lost, boy?” He whispered. “I’m heading to the pharmacy now.” I said, trying to keep calm. His eyes glistened in the candlelight. “Child, but you ARE in the pharmacy.” I froze. “How long have you been down here?” “All my life since medical school. I came here as a young pharmacist to fill a rare prescription and I’ve been living down here ever since, counting our stock for over 40 years. I am one with the medications now.” He began sniffing the air, taking a step forward. “Child, pray tell, what medication have you in your sack?” “Sir… you know, it’s against company policy for me to disclose that information.” “But, I’m a pharmacist! You can trust a pharmacist, can’t you?” he said adamantly. “Ok, show me your credentials.” He reached into his pocket and shuffled around his pills. Suddenly, he threw a handful of them at me and lunged for my bag. I slid out of the way just in time as he slipped on some floor pills. “Relinquish your Qwazitrex to me, child.” He said gaining footing, grasping a sharpened broken amber vial. “No!” “But Adam, my dear nephew, don’t you remember me? I’m your good old uncle Joey, I can show you the way out! Just give me some of that sweet Qwazi…” I turned and ran as fast as I could through the labyrinth, followed by a crotchety laughs and screams from behind. “Don’t leave me, Adam! My sweet boy! Help me find my prescription!” he shouted into the darkness.
Never trust a naked pharmacist
I wondered how he knew my name, but then realized that he just read my name tag. Finally, somehow after getting lost at dead ends and other random medication grottos, I found the hole leading to the hallway of pill shelves. I crawled back up and sprinted down to the main pharmacy. The pharmacist was still asleep, but there was another technician there. “Hey, what’re the largest bottles we have?” She walked to the back and brought out a huge amber vial, just big enough for two capsules of Qwazitrex to fit in. “I’m gonna need about two more of those.” “What the hell are you filling?” “Qwazitrex?” “Oh. Your first time?” “I guess? I’m new.” “Whoa, nice. I just took the module on those. Surprised you made it out of the catacombs with your sanity on your first try. The online training really helped me. Chauncey’s a dick, huh? I still have trouble reading the runes.” She fetched two more and I filled them, affixing a tiny regular sized label to each. They still looked absolutely fucking ridiculous.

Only two capsules were able to fit in the largest vial
There was a ring at the front counter. “Could you take check-out? I need to print some labels.” I went to the counter to greet this ridiculous looking man. He was an older man with a white mustache, wearing a purple zebra-striped zoot suit and what looked like a wizard hat mixed with a pachuco hat, a peacock feather lazily hanging out. “Hi there, how can I help you?” I could see his wide eyes through his obnoxiously large sunglasses. “Picking up a prescription for Merlo Wizman.” This was the fucking guy. 

Merlow Wizman
He immediately swiped his card in the card reader, which of course didn’t go through because it was too early in the transaction. “I’m in a big hurry, speed it up.” I already hated this guy. I pulled up his information.
      Qwazitrex Triphazimate 10,000mg Capsules – $42,682
      Viagra 100mg Tablets $0.00
      Warfarin Sodium 5mg Tablets $0.00
      Yascazal 32 pack $3.00
Besides the Qwazitrex, the only one I didn’t recognize was Yascazal. “Ok sir, we have 4 prescriptions ready for you, let me get them. I’ll be right back.” I went to the waiting bins and checked under W. I found the Viagra and Warfarin but not this Yascazal stuff. I asked the other technician where it could be. She pulled up his profile and told me it should be ready. So I checked the waiting bin again, reaching deep back behind all of the prescription bags. Low and behold, it was waaaaay deeper than it should be. Somehow the bin was wide enough for me to fit into and I found myself crawling into this deep narrow passageway, the floor completely covered in an uncountable amount of prescription bags. I reached the other side of the tunnel, which opened into an enormous library with towering shelves of bags. There was a desk down where the shelves began, and a very skinny woman with a lab coat sat with her arms folded eyeing me down. The best way to describe her would be Mr. Bitters from Invader Zim with the mannerisms of Roz from Monster’s, Inc. “Name.” she said. “Adam.” She narrowed her eyes even more. “Not you.” “Oh, Wizman. Merlow.” “Creds.” I gave her my credentials and she typed something into her computer insanely fast. She handed me a printout which read “Shelf 47W, Column 72, Row 276”. Then I just stood there for a while, feeling lost. “Um, ma’am. What do I do now?” “Get the prescription and leave. Didn’t you take the module?” “I’m new to this.” She gave me an even narrower gaze, pressed the page button on her desk phone and shouted into it. “HELP THE NEWBIE.” It screeched loudly over the static filled intercom and reverberated for a while. Off in the distance, I saw a small golf cart speeding towards the desk. The driver was a smiling Rasta man with dreads, also wearing a lab coat. “Hop on in, brotha.” I took shotgun and he sped off immediately. Turning the corner at the first shelf, the true vastness of this library really hit me. You had to really squint to see the end of the compound, and the ceiling… I wasn’t even sure if there was one.

The massive library of prescription bags
The driver took my print out, had one look at it, and said “First timer in the pharm, ah?” “Yeah, I’m kinda lost.” “Of course you’re lost, we’re all lost. I bet you’re thinking this is hella bizarre.” “You got me.” “Well, what if I told you this is all in your head? Ever think maybe you’re the ridiculous one?” I wanted to answer but before I could say anything, he put his knees on the wheel, sprinkled some green stuff on the printout, rolled it up and began smoking. “Uh, are you sure you can do that in here?” “You gonna let me? I’m my own prescriber, you know.” He said, pointing to the PhD tag sewn onto his jacket. I didn’t say anything and he took a long drag, before belly laughing smoke. He began telling me about how he was raised in the pharmacy and how he loved having conversations with the prescriptions saying “every pill has a story to tell” or something like that. We finally reached a skyscraper like shelf labeled “47W”, drove alongside it, and stopped. “Hey, pull that there lever.” He pointed to a lever sticking out of the dashboard. I pulled it and the small cart spring upward like some kind of cherry picker. I grabbed tight onto my seat as the Rasta man laughed at me. “I love the way they freak out!” at this point I actually began to become aware that I’m probably dreaming. “Is this a dream?” I asked him. “Maybe you’re my dream?” “How can that make any sense?” “Who says we can’t be dreaming of one another?” Without looking he reached past me and blindly plucked out a prescription. It was the Yascazal. “How did you know?” “Because you told me in a dream.” The cart retracted to ground level and we drove back to the desk. He talked about his favorite prescriptions as I looked at the Yascazal label details. Apparently, it was a generic form of the Pixy Stix candy, but in suppository form. The library lady scanned the label and sent me on my way. The Rasta man dropped me off at the tunnel mouth and left me with some more offbeat wisdom, “Don’t forget. The pills are taking us, man.” I crawled back through the hole of bags to an impatient Mr. Wizman, his arms folded. I dragged over the bottles of Qwazitrex and put all his prescriptions on the counter, scanned them. “Can I see you’re your ID?” He motioned downward with his eyes to a rainbow colored card already on the counter. It was a “Wizardry” license. I took it to the other technician and asked if we could take it, she said of course. “Ok sir, the Viagra and Warfarin Sodium are covered by your insurance but the other two aren’t.” “Excuse me? They should be covered. What are the prices?” “The Yascazal is $3.00” “Ok. That’s fine.” “And the Qwazitrex is over $42,000.”

The check-out screen
He was taken aback. “Balderdash! Can I speak to the pharmacist?” He was still fast asleep, snoring audibly. The other technician ran over and said “He doesn’t like to be woken from his nap. I can help. What’s the problem, sir?” “Is the Qwazi covered by my insurance?” She brought up his profile. “I’m sorry, your Medicare part Z plan doesn’t cover schedule 1 drugs, Mr. Wizman. You’ll have to pay the amount or try a different pharmacy.” “That’s completely ludicrous, ma’am. You’re really busting my buttons here. If that’s the case, then I don’t want them. Just give me the rest.” At this point I was very angry at him, I kind of went out of my way to get those fucking ridiculous pills. “Alright, sir. Sorry about that. That’ll be $3.00 please.” He reached from under his coat and dropped a heavy sack of mixed coins labeled “$100” on the counter. “Wire the change to my castle on file. I’ll be taking my business elsewhere where sorcerers are appreciated.” He stormed out of the pharmacy, his silly hat bouncing as he walked with his skull cane. “What a dick wad.” I said to the technician. “Did you catch what happened there?” she asked me. “…No?” “That guy’s a regular, comes here a lot. Huge drug dealer, repeat offender. The Qwazitrex was covered by Medicare, but he was going to use it to make Super Viagra. We’re not even supposed to sell it with regular Viagra.” “Oh.” “You really need to take those modules. If I was here, I would have told you not to fill the Qwazi. Now you’re going to have to RTS it.” “Are you fucking kidding me.” 

Then, I woke up.

Monday, May 18, 2015

TribeTwelve: Five Years Later

An ominous meeting.

It's been five years since I started this little project. I've been meaning to make a new post on this blog for basically a year now, so I feel that the 5 year anniversary would be a good opportunity to get my thoughts out there. I feel like reiterating what I said in my previous post from last year would be a bit redundant, so let me take this time to give a sincere thanks to all of those who helped me stay afloat and gave me a reason to continue TribeTwelve. This blog post will update you on the past, present, and future of TribeTwelve since my previous post.

The Past

After the Slender Man stabbings about some 13 days after last years 4 year anniversary blog post, a lot of us creators halted our thought machines just to take a breather from the bombshell event that overexposed us to the media masses. It's honestly not been the same since. Even though we've still been updating here and there, our image took a big blow that we had to take a while to recover from. Since the stabbing to this day, I've been spending most of my TribeTwelve work time planning and polishing structured ideas for the rest of the series. I've also been focusing on my school work; I just finished two semesters of Chemistry 1 and 2. I've never been that good at chem, but I managed to pass both with flying colors... at the expense of taking focus away from working on TribeTwelve.

The Present

Let me just say that I'm pretty upset that I've not been able to update regularly like I used to. Since my old group of friends that I started this series with moved to Orlando, as well as losing one key crew member, it's been a trying task to really restart the motor of my series and get reliable help to keep it running. For the most part, I am still managing this project all by myself and it's tough for me when I'm such a perfectionist delivering on a vision of mine, especially when I'm trying to balance finding a job and getting schoolwork taken care of. Right now I'm finishing polishing scripts that have been in the oven baking for a few months. I'm still very excited to get them made and posted.

The Future

The next five or so videos I have planned are real ambitious ones that I've been sitting on for a while now, and as much as I'm proud of uploading Fortunes as a precursor to those videos and the livestreams, I apologize for not keeping a regular pace. Sure I made some vines and posted a few tweets, but that's all I was able to do within the constraints of my social life and academic track. But, now that classes are over and Summer is upon us, I'll take this time to get back in the swing of things. After getting these next five or so videos completed, I would like to get the TribeTwelve Season 1 DVD created. It may take a while to produce, but I've been wanting to get it underway for a long time.

Now, while I don't have any new video content to present to you at this moment, know well that I have not given up and production is underway on new videos.This year has been less of a hiatus and more of a slow developmental process. The image at the top is some concept art for you to ponder over. I'm not giving any release dates because I'm not making that mistake again. New videos will pop up when you least expect them, and that's kinda the way I want it right now given Noah's mental state. He's not well anymore, and it will show more than you think.

I hope fans will understand where I'm coming from and find it in themselves to be patient as I create more horror content at my own pace. I promise, once these videos start coming out you'll be glad you waited.

In the meantime, here's a trailer I made for TribeTwelve that you can show your friends.


Sunday, May 18, 2014

TribeTwelve: Four Years Later

As my journey creating TribeTwelve reaches it's fourth year, I'd like to take this time to say a few things to mark this production milestone. Within that time, I've accumulated many talented fans and wonderful friends that I'm not sure where I'd be without. You guys have supported me for so long, you feel more like family than strangers I've connected with online. After finding a 4chan thread discussing Marble Hornet's newly posted Entry #7, I became infatuated and planned an experimental video YouTube account of my own to test my videography abilities and have fun creating something spooky. When viewers began to pour in, I took the reigns and started putting serious effort into making it a unique series and 42,000+ subscribers later, I feel like I've done a decent job captivating independent horror fans in the wake of the POV boom. I feel very blessed to have had the opportunity to work with these fantastic people and have my work considered canon by an entire fandom of people. Helping to form the foundation of the Slenderverse has been a real trip. From the amazing fanart, fanbase community, and convention shenanigans to the heartwarming messages I get from viewers explaining how my videos have helped them and friends through adverse times, I'm extremely humbled to entertain and grow with you guys these past few years. I'd like to thank The crews of EverymanHYBRID, DarkHarvest, The Andersen Journals, and WhisperedFaith for crossing over and helping each other out along the way; the Marble Hornets crew for inspiring all of us; and the communities that keep our verse alive: Unfiction and the other forums, Tumblr and HornetCon, and the Facebook groups.

Now for a small update:
Since my previous two crossover videos, I've been terribly busy and forced to put the series on hold to focus on graduating college. Since I've just graduated, I've begun resuming work on the next chapter(s) of the series. It will include written portions that I've been working on for quite some time. I still see a ways to go ahead, I have a lot planned for the coming months and I hope you all enjoy where I lead you, blindfolded, through the deep woods of a foreign country.

Thanks for watching for the past 4 years, I love you all.

Stay tuned,
~ Adam

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Big Ol' Belated Update Time

I haven't updated this production blog since I posted the briefcase teaser due to a mixture of college work, personal life, and general laziness. However, due to some recent developments regarding the series, I'd like to give a proper update.

First, let's backtrack. The first video in 'Season 2' of TribeTwelve called DEUS EX MACHINA, posted after the Live Stream Incident, was a massive undertaking for me. As you may have noticed, the effects in the video were a lot more dynamic and complex compared to previous monochrome videos I have made. There's a reason for that and the near 6 month hiatus that preceded it; I was saving up for some cleaner tools. Coming back from my junior year of college, I had a lot of planning under my belt for the next direction the series was going to take, but at the same time, the laptop I have been working on since the beginning of the series had begun dying on me, crashing regularly. The copy of Premiere CS3 that I had was beginning to give me rendering errors more frequently than ever and being unable to handle large projects. I knew if I wanted to keep the series going strong and realize my vision, I needed not just new hardware but exceptional hardware that could handle how much I lifted. And in the editing department, I lift a lot. When it comes to editing and performance, a well endowed PC is great, but not ideal whereas Macs are built for media creation in mind. A good analogy when it comes to editing and computing would be swimming and footwear: If PCs were sneakers, Macs would be flippers. You can still swim with sneakers, but flippers are far more efficient and make for a faster and overall better swimming experience. So, with the help of my parents and grandparents, along with money that I've saved over the years and from Adsense profits, I was able to procure myself three major things; A new laptop (my command center), a Mac Mini (editing powerhouse), and a legal copy of Adobe CS6 Production Premium for Mac (student edition, because I'm a college student and it's hella cheaper.) I really wanted a certified version so I can update for cheap and after pirating all these years, I felt Adobe deserved a proper thank you. With the money I pooled up I was able to afford a fully pumped up 250GB solid state Mac Mini with 16 GB of memory, and let me tell you, it runs like a dream.

To prove the remarkable synergy that this computer and I have, let me first explain the process behind DEUS EX MACHINA. I ordered the Mac Mini in early May and was hoping to receive it around May 20th. My plan was to set it up and put out a video on June 4th, marking the 3rd anniversary of my first video posted in 2010. However, the Mac arrived a week later than expected around May 28th. This gave me only one solid week to put out this highly ambitious editing project. The day I received that Mac, I immediately shifted into high gear. For a solid 7 days of editing, I slaved at that Mac slowly tracking motion, rotoscoping, and creating the effects that ended up in the current video. I stayed up late, slept little, woke up early, ate as much as I needed to, and just stopped for bathroom breaks. Needless to say, I was very satisfied with the end product's quality and surprised with the sheer ability I now had. With rendering times up to 10 times faster and beyond, difficult effects on my old laptop seemed trivial. Minimal lag and high processing ability really helped for my visions to come to life like in no other previous monochrome video. Just looking back at what I did with DEUS EX MACHINA and acknowledging that I was able to create such an amazingly polished thing in only a week makes me proud.

The months following, I began laying more foundations for the upcoming videos. I was originally going to film, edit and post Obituary and Extraordinary Circumstances in mid June but props were not ready and I didn't have enough time to get it all finished before my annual summer visit to Jersey. I hung out with the other Slenderverse creators and filmed a bunch of goodies that you won't soon forget once they grace your eyes in the coming months. For the Obituary video, I created Mary's newspaper article from scratch. The face of Mary is a mugshot of the late Mindy McCready that I warped to look like another woman (Note: My headcanon of Mary's face was a mugshot of Mindy McCready before she died. I didn't realize it was her until after her death). The car photos I used were from this article that I found. I printed them on glossy paper and scanned them for Twitter.

Extraordinary Circumstances was difficult in terms of getting the 100 grand. Yes, it's all fake. There are 10 stacks of 100 $100 bills. It took me a lot to get the dimensions exactly right, but the prop money looks damn real up close. I found HD scans of both sides of a $100 bill and edited four different versions with alternating serial numbers, one was even my birth date. Four of the ten stacks were printed front and back, one stack had only the top printed, and the rest were completely blank with a top and bottom bill. Printing, cutting and getting all that together took a good two weeks.

Now that those videos are posted, phase two is set into motion. This is where the recent developments come in; I am doing an independent study where I'm getting college credit for the production of two TribeTwelve episodes. Now, this is more of a personal gain because I've always wanted to get some sort of credit out of making this series, but hell am I excited that I get to have this opportunity. The episodes I make for this independent study may or may not be the ones that I post next, since I am still in the planning phases, but I just think it's real damn neat that I get college credit for making a YouTube series.

Phase two of this first arc of season two is something I've been working on for a few years now, the contents of which is first shown here in an earlier blog post. I think it goes without saying what it could be at this point, considering what I found in the briefcase, but it is not finished - far from it. Most of that document is for a different purpose later on in the series. I do plan to start a blog listing this important info, but it will not be public until I finish it and until the plot allows it. This may not be for a while. I need to set it up properly: a few videos need to be posted first to establish certain notions before it can be unveiled. That's all I'm going to say about that biz for now.

The next video will take a lot of organizing and scavenging of old forgotten files that are years old and I may no longer have due to hard drive crashes. Re-filming certain things is neigh impossible, so how the episode will pan out will be according to how many of these assets I manage to find / successfully recover. This may also take a while to get together, but not months. Just know that I'm working hard to secure many different parts of the series before I go balls deep in the next video.

Again, I greatly appreciate all of the continued support, but that's all the info I can give right now. But big things are in the works and I hope you stick around long enough for them to blow your mind.

Bye for now ~

Monday, May 20, 2013

Saturday, March 2, 2013

My Fucked Up Dream: "Sanctuary 7"

Here's a very crazy dream I had about two weeks ago. I seldom have these kind of vivid dreams, but they always tend to coincide with me sleeping in past noon or under some sort of influence the night before. This one was particularly realistic and memorable, I have created a few photo-manipulated threshold renditions of scenes from my dream. Click them for a larger image.

Pictured here is the cargo hold that I woke up on among hundreds of kneeling bodies. 

I awoke in the dream in a white uniform, kneeling in a large cargo hold of sorts. Surrounding me were hundreds of other people with identical white uniforms lined up with their heads to the ground as if they were praying at a mosque. I stood up and noticed that there was an opening to the outside of the chamber, and I stepped over the crouched bodies to exit. Outside the craft, I find myself in a large metallic cage-like enclosure, the floor a large steel walkway suspended above choppy waters. It resembled something you'd see in a refinery or oil rig. All the surfaces of this enclosure were heavily rusted to a reddish hue and corroded. It was quite windy and cold, as various gaps in the metal walls allowed for wind and surf to blow through the metal construction. Beyond the metal, I notice that it is dark and stormy outside. Through the steel grating, a choppy ocean lapped at the supports a few hundred feet below. I walk out onto the platform and see that we were on what appeared to be a hollowed out cargo jet, somehow positioned at the mouth of the metal tunnel. At the end of this area was what looked like the mouth of an aircraft hangar door with large rusted text above it reading "SANCTUARY 7".

This is the entrance to Sanctuary 7 as viewed from the opening of the cargo hold.

I walked down a smaller walkway at the end of the large walkway that led to a path underneath it with low railing. There, I ran into a guy who seemed to be some sort of guard with black clothing and a strange elongated gun in his holster. He yelled at me, "Hey! You! Get back with the others! You aren't allowed down here!" He reached for his weapon and I dove at him. I knocked one of his legs hard enough to throw him off balance and tripped over the railing, falling over the platform. He fell straight down into the pitch black waters below. Luckily, he had dropped his curious looking gun before he plummeted and I picked it up to examine it. It was an odd weapon that looked like a cross between a small trumpet and an uzi carbine, with various buttons and other gizmos on it. I noticed that from it's design, I could collapse it into a smaller form, about 1/4th it's initial size. I collapse it to the size of a pistol and tucked it snugly into my pocket. I also see that he had dropped a small flashlight, which I also took and pocketed. I walked back up to the main walkway to find that everyone from the cargo had woken up and begun walking towards the large hangar door. I joined them and walked to the front of the hangar. Everyone around me looked my age. Half of them seemed really excited or nervous and the other half were pretty apathetic looking, almost like it was something of a routine or expected occurrence. The large door finally opened a bit and we were welcomed by a blast of cool fresh air and a smell resembling that of a freshly cleaned hotel hallway. Older people in white and black suits ushered us through the mouth of the hanger. Inside everything was and clean and orderly, a stark contrast to the grungy exterior.

This is the atrium that lied beyond the hangar door.

Beyond the threshold of the hanger, a gorgeous domed atrium with several stories of encircling balconies and windows. The large windows that composed the domed ceiling of the atrium weren't windows at all, as through them a bright cloudy sky could be seen. The floor was sectioned into four quadrants, divided by a depressed area shaped like an X. In the X, a myriad of toys of all kinds filled the spaces, which were around a meter wide. People were walking over and picking up the electronics curiously, examining them. Above the entrance a massive television broadcast a slideshow of several photographs of beautiful landscapes. The people clothed in white had formed into a few groups with one or two older black clothed individuals talking to them. I walked over to one of the groups and sat with them. Small squares were being passed out by the called "protein squares" which resembled beef jerky, but tasted a bit off. The emotions I remember seeing on their faces ranged from astonishment to sadness. In the dream world, I felt like I knew some of these faces, like they were friends that I had known for some time. Some of the things I distinctly remember hearing were "What happens when you graduate?", "Where do you go afterwards?", "I'm so happy to finally integrate!", and "They didn't tell us what graduation is, do you know?". Then, one of the people in black clothing was yelled at and told everyone to come with him. The group stood up and followed him to one of the smaller entrances around the atrium.

Here is the curved hallway we were taken to for "denaturing".

The room we entered was narrow but long, curving right as it went. Oddly enough, the whole place was carpeted with this rough fiber. There was a small stage to the right. The door to the room closed and the lady at the side of the projection announced with a smiling grin, "Ok everybody! Please form a single file line." A line was formed and she announced, "Welcome to graduation. You are all now going to be denatured." At this, there was a loud uproar of amazement. Half of the crowd was ecstatic, while the others were more apprehensive and nervous. Some of the people left the line. I asked someone what denaturing was, but they just said, "I didn't know it was happening so soon. This isn't fair." On the stage, a trap door slid away and a glass tube arose. "Please form an orderly line at the stairs," she said. A bunch scrambled right into the line, whereas the others and I stayed standing at the front of the stage. "Could the head of the line please step into the chamber?" An eager man ran up the stairs onto the stage. "Are you ready to be denatured?" said the lady in black politely. "Sure are!" he responded excitedly. A gap opened in the cylinder and he ran into it, excitedly closing his eyes and pointing his head upward. She grabbed the handle of a lever on the wall and pulled it. There was an electrical zap and bright flash as the cylinder filled with light. Once the light faded away, the man was gone and his clothes were wiggling on the ground. Out of the wiggling mass of clothes crawled out a child no older than three. It looked at us and began crying. The crowd gasped and began talking among one another. Some were looking very afraid, while others were ecstatic. "Next!" said the woman, as two men emerged from the curved hallway and moved the naked child to a small pen down the hall, dressing it in a small white outfit. The next person walked on stage. "Are you ready to be denatured?" He looked at her shyly, "No. I refuse this." There was a pause. "Take him away," said the woman and the two guards walked him down the curved hallway out of view. One by one, the people stepped up on stage and were turned into toddlers, each less eager than the last. Surprisingly to me, only a few people out of the group said no and were taken away. Once the last person remaining in line was transformed, there were about a half dozen of us left standing next to the stage anxiously. The two guards took out their guns and pointed them at us. "Form a line immediately!" they shouted. We all formed a line, I managed to get the last spot. This time, the more reluctant of us were being denatured. They walked up slower and less enthusiastically, yet most were still willing. These people asked her questions before they agreed to be denatured.
"Will it hurt?"
"You won't feel a thing."
"Will we remember anything?"
"You will know as much as you knew as a toddler. It's like rewinding your life."
However, regardless of eagerness, once their age was reversed they all seemed to behave the same; bewildered and confused as if they didn't understand where they were or what was happening. In front of me was this guy and girl who were holding hands, I'm pretty sure they were a couple. Once the three of us were left, the man hugged her tightly, as she was next in line. She hugged back at first and then abruptly shoved him away. "We've been given a chance to start over," she sobbed to him, "I've been looking forward to this all my life. I'm sorry, I love you, but I want to start over. I'm so sorry, goodbye." She walked up on stage as her lover screamed at her in sadness. "Are you ready to be denatured?" said the woman in black. "Yes," she said smiling, holding back tears. She entered the cylinder and looked at her friend longingly, placing her hand on the glass towards us. Light enveloped her, and in the blink of an eye she was a small child. She was taken away with the others and the man burst into tears as the men escorted him to the stage. "Are you ready to be denatured?" she said exactly as before. "No!" he shouted. "You don't want to start all over?" she said. "No! Never!" and with that he was taken down the hall by the guards. Once they returned, I was also escorted to the stage and asked if I wanted to be denatured. I hesitated. "...No. I don't want to." She gave me a look, "Are you sure you don't want to be a kid again?" I looked her straight in the eye, "I'd rather die." Her smile widened and she nodded to the men. I was taken off stage and escorted down the hall. As I passed the pen of new children, none seemed to realize what had happened to them, aimlessly exploring the small pen and playing with each other. We finally reached the end of the curved hallway where there was a slick white door. I was positioned standing next to the other people who denied denaturing. The woman in black came over and stood in front of the door, facing us. "Congratulations, boys. You've passed graduation." She began telling us the truth. Once we graduate, the majority of us are turned back into children due to population control. In this system, a human being is recycled in order to keep society under control in the sanctuary. We were all dumbfounded. She told us that we will now work for them and integrate into society. The two guards handed us black clothing and we all broke down sobbing, knowing that being defiant had saved us was just too much to take in. The next thing I remember is being taken across the facility. They told us that we were going to see the heads of the facility for debriefing. We all entered this large office and two women in black suits sat at a desk, a white woman and a black woman. They began telling us about the facility, most of which I don't remember. I do recall them saying that they ran one of the last surviving shelters for human kind left and showing a graphic on screen that displayed the profiles of the previous heads of Sanctuary 7. There were many people of varying genders and ethnicity suggesting a long history. They asked if we had any questions, and I rose my hand. "What year is it?" I asked humbly. "The year is no longer important. Only the survival of our species is important," they responded sternly. We were then all assigned our own mentor and sent off to different places. My mentor was a black guy in his late 30s. He took me to this room where he said that relics were being recovered. In the room there was this long table filled with old junk that people in white hazmat suits were cleaning. We walked to the end of the table and my mentor picked up something. He handed me an old super soaker. "Here is a weapon from a bygone age." I asked him if I could go outside to see what it looks like. He said ok, gives me a white hazmat suit, and shows me to an airlock.

This view is of the area directly outside of Sanctuary Seven that I observe when exiting the facility.

I stepped outside of the large airlock door onto a long boardwalk made of metal. A bleak sight of what looked to be a flooded city filled the horizon. The water looked black as ink and very rough. The majority of the buildings were skeletons of their former selves. Looking back at the facility as I walked, many white geodesic domes and tubular structures composed the exterior, many covered in antennae. A stormy sky loomed over the scene, clouds writhing fast. Horrified, I reentered the facility and removed the suit. My mentor told me that this perpetual storm has always been brewing. I accidentally brushed past him and he felt something in my pocket and told me to show him. I almost freaked, but remembered that I had the guy's flashlight. I took it out and said that I found it outside, luckily he bought it.

Unfortunately this is where the dream ends, as I was woken up by my alarm to go to class and I began writing. I plan on developing this concept further and writing a longer version with more detail, which may eventually turn into something worth publishing. Comments are appreciated!

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

"The Live Stream Incident" and A Special Announcement


(SCURVY SPOILERS AHOY, watch the above video before reading)

After weeks and weeks of tedious editing and rendering, this massive 30 minute, 1.5GB video is complete and uploaded. The shots were tricky, the planning was intricate, and the editing was grueling, but it's finally been completed and posted. What really took the bulk of my time to edit was the scene where I get teleported around to previous videos. I had that teleport scene planned for a long time, at least since one of my first rewrites of TribeTwelve's plot. The most difficult bit to pull off was the hotel scene, which took up nearly 3/4 of my entire editing time to execute correctly and polish as best I could, easily proving to be the most monotonous and tiresome editing process I have ever committed myself to performing. Hope you enjoyed the video, even though it was a bit lengthy. Because Stickam didn't record the livestream on my account, I decided to include as much as I could from what I had recorded on my camera so that people who weren't there to witness it live could see what happened.

Now, for the announcement that I was talking about...

This is the end of Season 1, or Part 1, or the first half of TribeTwelve, whatever you want to call it. Now, don't jump to any conclusions over this. Just because there are 40 videos now, doesn't mean that the series will conclude with 80; there may be more or less. I'm really not quite sure yet myself how many videos the rest of the plot will entail, but I'm very excited to make them regardless. I'm going to take another short hiatus or so from making videos, and by short I really mean a month or two as usual. I'm allowing myself this time to work on a section of the series that has only been planned out but not written down yet. If any of you are curious, it's this mysterious document that I talked about in a previous post. I've been working hard with my writers for years on it and it's looking positively marvelous.

More updates on that will come in the future.