Depressed

Work's totally fucking me up.

I've been making a platformer for mobile phones, very much like the splinter cell game, which is very much like 'flashback' from the old console days.

Horizontal Engine Demo DivX - DeathBoy (1mb)

Because this is for internal use only (when we sell to a client, we'll actually pay an artist), I made the graphics and stole the player sprites from Flashback - if it looks familiar, it *is*.

Loads of shit's not in place yet, but it's totally getting there. In all but the right time :/

It's all coming along just *ace*, except I had a row with my partner last week because yet again I've been given a whole heap of shit I've not done on this platform before and yet again my time estimate has been bang out of line. I promised to do my best to finish on time, worked some of sunday, worked until now today, and it's STILL fucking late.

So, no doubt tomorrow, I'm going to have a bollocking from Chi.

I've written this damn thing from scratch, every fucking line of code, made or manually ripped all of the graphics (batch processing down to something suitable for the 7210 is a BITCH), designed the 'level' (which doesn't yet have the baddies / pickups in, but is planned out and documented), kept to the stupid fucking memory constraints, can't even fucking TEST it on the target phone because we don't HAVE ONE and I'm going to get my arse chewed out.

Fuck this.

This might wind up being my swan song for me and Chi and our little company because at the moment, I reckon I could get another 9->5 on the basis of this as a demo on a few more quid and for less heartache.

Gah.

I *like* my job.

But I don't like busting my arse and being made to feel like it's MY fault I was asked for the moon on a stick and couldn't deliver.

Bollocks.

Shit shit shit fuck you shit fuck off hate you hate you HATE YOU FUCK OFF DIE YOU *FUCKER*

am in foul mood.

shit fucking review from some shit-eating wanker slagging me because I don't scream.

well fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU.

i spose i should have called the fucking thing 'music to have a quiet, mopey, non-aggressive non-manson-clone cry to'

'was already feeling like shit because of work.

this is just a bad day.

this isn't the rule.

i'm just having a bad day.

people are entitled to their opinions.

if i invite commentary, i should take it with a good grace and grow on it.

i need to learn how to ignore criticism and accept praise.

but first, I'm going to get some glass and push it through some fucker's retina while raping their fucking children with an acid-filled, nail-covered dildo.

yeah.

guess I'm screaming now.

for reference

( evidently not someone's cup of tea )

More easy to swallow, well researched German piece in original german

... or in english...

( all samey on the german front )

Fix myself / Fuck myself / Look at me, I'm dead again

You know what's cheered me right up?

MY FUCKING MUSIC.

Full fucking volume.

Ciggy in hand.

Raging at the fucking sky.

Yeah.

*That* was the point of it all, wasn't it?

I recover.

Unexpected upturns

Apart from other weirdness / bad karma today (of which there appears to be a lot), my work thing's temporarily improved... Chi liked the update I sent him (as well he should), and isn't blowing his stack about the timescale, which means I get to shoot out this evening, and finish the project at a pace that only *half* kills me, rather than going the whole hog.

I'm sufficiently over my earlier anger from the ass review, lotsa thanks and hugs to those who said nice things... it really does make a difference.

Roight. A few things to finish, then I get to *relax* a little.