Ask me anything

This is the tumblr of Dan John Cox. I'm a game artist working in the industry, currently at Ubisoft Toronto. Check out my portfolio at danjohncox.tumblr.com and follow me on twitter @danjohncox

ducktastic:

door:

thenintendard:

Nintendo Comic Peach > Any other Peach.

Bowser, you buckethead!

My favorite version of Princess Peach, when she was basically Sailor Jupiter.

(Source: firevideogamemaster92, via glenmanalo)

1 month ago
58,553 notes
Women Are Not Too Hard To Animate

axl99:

Spoken by an animator who worked on Mass Effect 1&2, Assassin’s Creed 3 and now some game at Naughty Dog.

He doesn’t go too much into specifics in the article either because of tech/expertise related NDA and or tech talk scares people in general but the principles are there!

2 months ago
20 notes
sarapocock:

I grew up within a strict religious dogma that taught me my body was a temple.  My body is not a temple.
I grew up in a culture that told me certain dress sizes dictate your physical attractiveness.  My body is not ugly.
In high school I was told that my breasts and how they looked in certain clothing was “a distraction.” My body, just because it exists, is not a distraction.
I belong to a gender that is treated as a prize for sexual conquest.  I am not a prize. I am not an object. My body DOES, however, exist for sex and pleasure and fulfillment: my own.

sarapocock:

I grew up within a strict religious dogma that taught me my body was a temple.  My body is not a temple.

I grew up in a culture that told me certain dress sizes dictate your physical attractiveness.  My body is not ugly.

In high school I was told that my breasts and how they looked in certain clothing was “a distraction.” My body, just because it exists, is not a distraction.

I belong to a gender that is treated as a prize for sexual conquest.  I am not a prize. I am not an object. My body DOES, however, exist for sex and pleasure and fulfillment: my own.

3 months ago
1,151 notes

ELLIOT ALFREDIUS

*Cough sputter* oh god these designs are so beautiful!

(Source: azertip, via tinyberseeerk)

6 months ago
18,518 notes

dendropsyche:

plzdiekthnxbye:

like for real I would fight the world and this would be my magical weapon

at first i thought this was going to be super dumb but then

(via tinyberseeerk)

6 months ago
101,029 notes

axl99:

Guilty Gear Xrd Sign.

NOW THIS IS HOW CGI ANIME IS SUPPOSED TO LOOK AND ANIMATE LIKE.

There’s also a pretty awesome written interview [in japanese] with the devs on how they managed to achieve the look and nail the animation.

How they managed to get such sharp lines without the pixelly artifacting and achieving actual line-width with the atypical backface cull cellshade method [made famous by Jet Grind Radio] while culling extraneous shapes is just cool hackery stuff.

Boggles my mind that this was also done in Unreal Engine. They’re doing some great work with devs all around.

I dunno how well Guilty Gear’s methods would translate to tv animation as there’s so much prep work to be done.  At the very least, anime studios should pay damn good attention to the lighting shaders used the next time they stick in a CGI object outta the blue.

Good lord that’s good stuff!

1 month ago
25 notes
Creative people are confident in only one thing: their own doubt. I think there’s a huge lack of self-confidence in a creative person because, by nature, the definition of a creative person is someone who is trying to make something new. They know, if they are professional creatives, that the likelihood of doing that—making something new and significant—is hugely unlikely, so they build within that city of doubt. From doubt, they get to iterate and work extremely hard, hoping to find something new; it’s all about hope. I’ve never met anyone who is good at what they do creatively and is super-confident. Maybe they pretend to be confident in front of their agent or the media, but I’ve never been confident in that way.
A conversation with the inimitable John Maeda. Complement with Seth Godin on dancing with self-doubt and Anna Deavere Smith’s advice to artists on what self-esteem really means.  (via explore-blog)

(Source: explore-blog)

2 months ago
5,492 notes

sandandglass:

Jason Jones talks to a Russian woman protesting against Russia’s anti-gay laws.

(via glenmanalo)

6 months ago
128,098 notes

jackandsamforever:

randomfandemonium:

jeremyloverobsessedmoi:

nuwanda13:

irefusetobedefined:

ddowney:

i’m just gonna leave this here as a reminder that “hitting bottom” doesn’t mean “staying on bottom for the rest of your life and dying as a piece of crap”

I will never, ever, not reblog this. 

*huggles RDJ*  Anyone on here who loves him, someone posted an amazing story about him when he was younger.  I wish knew where the link was so I could share it.  Instead, it’s just cut and pasted below.  If I find the link, I’ll replace it with that.

I will also say that I have read this several times now and it still makes me  cry.

“True story: His Name is Robert Downey Jr.” by Dana Reinhardt

I’m willing to go out on a limb here and guess that most stories of kindness do not begin with drug addicted celebrity bad boys.

    Mine does.

    His name is Robert Downey Jr.

    You’ve probably heard of him. You may or may not be a fan, but I am, and I was in the early 90’s when this story takes place.

    It was at a garden party for the ACLU of Southern California. My stepmother was the executive director, which is why I was in attendance without having to pay the $150 fee. It’s not that I don’t support the ACLU, it’s that I was barely twenty and had no money to speak of.

    I was escorting my grandmother. There isn’t enough room in this essay to explain to you everything she was, I would need volumes, so for the sake of brevity I will tell you that she was beautiful even in her eighties, vain as the day is long, and whip smart, though her particular sort of intelligence did not encompass recognizing young celebrities.

    I pointed out Robert Downey Jr. to her when he arrived, in a gorgeous cream-colored linen suit, with Sarah Jessica Parker on his arm. My grandmother shrugged, far more interested in piling her paper plate with various unidentifiable cheeses cut into cubes. He wasn’t Carey Grant or Gregory Peck. What did she care?

    The afternoon’s main honoree was Ron Kovic, whose story of his time in the Vietnam War that had left him confined to a wheelchair had recently been immortalized in the Oliver Stone film Born on the Fourth of July.

    I mention the wheelchair because it played an unwitting role in what happened next.

    We made our way to our folding chairs in the garden with our paper plates and cubed cheeses and we watched my stepmother give one of her eloquent speeches and a plea for donations, and there must have been a few other people who spoke but I can’t remember who, and then Ron Kovic took the podium, and he was mesmerizing, and when it was all over we stood up to leave, and my grandmother tripped.

    We’d been sitting in the front row (nepotism has its privileges) and when she tripped she fell smack into the wheelchair ramp that provided Ron Kovic with access to the stage. I didn’t know that wheelchair ramps have sharp edges, but they do, at least this one did, and it sliced her shin right open.

    The volume of blood was staggering.

    I’d like to be able to tell you that I raced into action; that I quickly took control of the situation, tending to my grandmother and calling for the ambulance that was so obviously needed, but I didn’t. I sat down and put my head between my knees because I thought I was going to faint. Did I mention the blood?

    Luckily, somebody did take control of the situation, and that person was Robert Downey Jr.

    He ordered someone to call an ambulance. Another to bring a glass of water. Another to fetch a blanket. He took off his gorgeous linen jacket and he rolled up his sleeves and he grabbed hold of my grandmother’s leg, and then he took that jacket that I’d assumed he’d taken off only to it keep out of the way, and he tied it around her wound. I watched the cream colored linen turn scarlet with her blood.

    He told her not to worry. He told her it would be alright. He knew, instinctively, how to speak to her, how to distract her, how to play to her vanity. He held onto her calf and he whistled. He told her how stunning her legs were.

    She said to him, to my humiliation: “My granddaughter tells me you’re a famous actor but I’ve never heard of you.”

    He stayed with her until the ambulance came and then he walked alongside the stretcher holding her hand and telling her she was breaking his heart by leaving the party so early, just as they were getting to know each other. He waved to her as they closed the doors. “Don’t forget to call me, Silvia,” he said. “We’ll do lunch.”

    He was a movie star, after all.

    Believe it or not, I hurried into the ambulance without saying a word. I was too embarrassed and too shy to thank him.

    We all have things we wish we’d said. Moments we’d like to return to and do differently. Rarely do we get that chance to make up for those times that words failed us. But I did. Many years later.

    I should mention here that when Robert Downey Jr. was in prison for being a drug addict (which strikes me as absurd and cruel, but that’s the topic for a different essay), I thought of writing to him. Of reminding him of that day when he was humanity personified. When he was the best of what we each can be. When he was the kindest of strangers.

    But I didn’t.

    Some fifteen years after that garden party, ten years after my grandmother had died and five since he’d been released from prison, I saw him in a restaurant.

    I grew up in Los Angeles where celebrity sightings are commonplace and where I was raised to respect people’s privacy and never bother someone while they’re out having a meal, but on this day I decided to abandon the code of the native Angeleno, and my own shyness, and I approached his table.

    I said to him, “I don’t have any idea if you remember this…” and I told him the story.

    He remembered.

    “I just wanted to thank you,” I said. “And I wanted to tell you that it was simply the kindest act I’ve ever witnessed.”

    He stood up and he took both of my hands in his and he looked into my eyes and he said, “You have absolutely no idea how much I needed to hear that today.”

OH MY GOD………………………..

reblog forever

I love seeing this on my dashboard

That’s ok..I wanted to cry tonight anyway.

(via thevicker)

6 months ago
445,631 notes

blindsprings:

secondlina:

Here is “Knot”, a short comic I drew to sell at Mocca and TCAF this year. The printed version is going to be SO PRETTY. I’m in love with the cover (which I will post later).

I just wanted to do something fairy-tale-like that talked about doubts and frustrations and how to deal with them. I’m really happy with how colorful and adorable the story turned out to be. 

If you enjoyed “Knot”, please consider reblogging it and/or checking out my ongoing webcomic Namesake! HUGS TO ALL OF YOU!

Isa’s been showing me wips of this for awhile, look how pretty this is finished, ahhh!!

(via deugenio)

6 months ago
166,122 notes