"Is Sometimes Colder Than Ice" is the latest short from the mysterious new Second Life machinima creator named BobE Schism (who also narrates), it's based on a true story recounted by author Paul Auster, from the The Locked Room book of his New York Trilogy, and it's a dark little existential thriller that's eerie and excellent. Put aside four minutes of quiet time, turn off the lights, kick up the volume, and watch. After you've gone to the edge of icy despair, watch this sunny and funky chaser of a machinima, also by Mr. Schism. (Which also shows you what kind of range he has.)
Update, 4:00pm: I just got in touch with BobE Schism, who told me a bit about his machinima making process: "Almost everything in the two machinimas I made is executed in-world," he tells me. "The only exception is for the outdoor scenes where I composited (is that the right word?) some extra snowfall particles to give the idea of a heavier storm. I spend much more time than I should trying to build, animate script or film some random daft idea I may have had. A proper filmmaker will probably tell you any number of easier, less complicated time-consuming ways to achieve a similar result in post-production. Ah well."
Then again, doing it the hard way comes easy to Mr. Schism: "I recently went to a talk given by a machinima creator who basically said 'Know your limits'. I'd wholeheartedly disagree with that advice. If there's a big red button with a sign saying 'Do Not Push', then I'm definitely an advocate of pushing it to see what happens. And then figuring out how to undo the subsequent mess."
beautiful work bob.. congrats! It was worth all the controlled breathing ;)
Posted by: Toxic Menges | Saturday, April 24, 2010 at 07:12 AM
As I commented in youtube, I wonder how you managed to sign Tom Waits to do the narration :P
Outstanding work Bob !
Posted by: Nahasa Singh | Saturday, April 24, 2010 at 08:19 AM
A poem:
A group of people came one day,
long time after he passed away,
They broke into his igloo coffin,
Stuck him on a sledge to be carried off in.
His body was frozen, ice on his throat,
in his cold, blue hands he grasped a note:
"The wind is too loud,
no one hears me shout,
I wish I could cut my way out.
Lord of lord but I am thick,
Why oh why did I forget my icepick?"
Posted by: Extropia DaSilva | Sunday, April 25, 2010 at 03:40 AM
Hmmmm; it sounds like BobE's a student of the Miss Frizzle School of Cinema; take chances and get messy.
Posted by: Harper Ganesvoort | Tuesday, April 27, 2010 at 04:23 AM