Late night, feelin' good, had some time to unwind and I'm gearing up to get this show on the road. I'm feelin' a sentimental so watch yourself, blather incoming!

What a f*ckin' ride. Through the thick and thin. Thin of late... I've got a lot of ground to cover. I'm pulled in a million directions, if I allow my brain to spill down any rabbit hole, it saturates with a multitude of paralyzing clusters of possibilities riddled by technical frameworks, visions of horrid code splashes against the neurons. *shudder*. That's ok! We're going to plow through this shit system by system, day after day till this game starts coming together as we've done every hard earned day of progress over the years.

I wonder where all this time has gone. I open the project, I swim around a little. 7 f*cking years for this!? WTF ARE YOU DOING U DUMB F*($? I think about what could have been, what a more succesful version of myself might be doing in another plane of existence rather than tuning idiot fish in a cave. 

What if this, what if that? What if I hadn't f*cked everything up? What if I hadn't squandered everything? What if the world hadn't been so f*cking unfair? Waah wah, wah.

What's it matter? The dumbfounding mechanisms of stature, the mechanisms of corporation, of social media, of fame and fortune, of this club and that club. A convoluded mess engineered by crooks and groveling backscratchers. F8ck it, doesn't matter. Just make the fish game.

So maybe I'm not typing this blog from my private yatch. Maybe I didn't go to some fancy restaurant this weekend, maybe I'm just sitting here in a wife beater listening to dire straights on some dingy head phone that fell apart a year ago, in a dilapidated computer chair, watching on a tiny scratched up monitor and developing SeaCrit on a budget PC I built 7 years ago. 

I wouldn't have it any other way. I cook better food than most restaurants anyhow! Satisfaction is a matter of perception. I'm satisfied knowing that I have a purpose, that I'm in a fight worth  fighting, that there is still a future to fight for even after all the struggle and after all the mad decay. 

I used to love watching competitive cooking shows, they were my thing. Ask me what my favorite shows were 10 years ago I'd have said Top Chef and MasterChef (British version). I relish in this sort of craft, in people having passion for something that transcends culture and stature and brings people joy in life like food and or gaming, and professionals who put their craft before themselves coming together to get better at that thing so that this world can be a less shitty place, so that we may strive for goodness and greatness, to compete and make the best shit possible in celebration of this imperfect human existence, in doing something fucking worthwhile before we bite it from this shallow plane of existence. 

No more present day cooking shows for me, I'm going to go back to older seasons I never watched:

(Good god this show wasgood)

HOLY F*CK HAVE WE DROPPED THE BALL. It's pathetic what has become of cooking shows, of game companies, of movie studios, of television production, to education, to medicine, to politics, to trying to get a well made sandwich from the d@mned sandwich shop. To just watching the god d@mned Food Network. Somehow we have become absolutely and completely up our own @sses, obsessed with the most mundane, insufferable bullsh*t. Sick of it. Sick of self fulfilling, scum sucking, circle jerk horse sh*t from holier than though, unpassionate, over-medicated, pretentious @sshats seeking to divide us and kick us into the dirt for their own amusement.

I was trying a new show, "Bobby's Triple Threat" (Bobby Flay HATES to lose).  And it was just so sad to watch. You could really feel everyone was just nervous and going through the motions. All this money spent on this big set, all this money on nice clothes and this nice atmosphere, but everything was so poorly run. The audience was so out of place, the judges were checked out and hauled in randomly, the in-house chefs were there for a paycheck. It was a poorly executed piss poor attempt at a cooking show with no soul, it wasn't about the food, it was about these silly gimmicky ideas for a game show, and everyone was showing up for their paycheck, going through the motions, all smiling and nodding, terrified of telling anyone running the show that everything was disjointed and terrible.

You can spend millions and millions of dollars for the best set, for all the posh clothes, you can fill the bar on that set with all the top shelf liquor, and you can bring on the most suave and personable cohosts... but if you don't have the passion for the art of preparing food, if chefs aren't bringing it to compete, if it's all a fake show and dance to dress up and have some cocktails and gulp down some funds from the food network, then you just have some soulless program that steals away people's time and accomplishes nothing. 

It's everywhere, in everything. This decline. This groveling, subservient mediocrity.

I lost it at this shot. You've got this fake audience on the left looking bored out of their mind in the wrong direction, can't even be bothered to look at the chefs looking for cues on WTF they're supposed to be doing. The set is desolate, you don't have 2 cooking stations side by side so you can have some banter between the 2 competing chefs. Bobb's out of frame awkwardly in this desolate part of the set talking to the chef across the way. No one's in frame, the show's fake AF, everyone's phoning it in. Bobby can't be assed to give color commentary on the dishes being cooked, and the in house chefs just feel like they're barely trying. There was no soul, no one gave a damn, it all felt like the usual tripe we're allotted this day and age. 

How did this shot not get cut in the editing room? How does everyone involved in this show see this frame in post and think... "This is fine, this show we've put so much into the past year is perfectly ok having this in it". It's only a fraction of a second, but this really just kinda pissed me off. This is a small fractal of a microcosm of how everything has decayed over the years, how we're all comfortable now, how no one holds anyone to any standard. That one elite gruop of rich f*cks, have taken the reigns, and wrapped them tightly around their soft knuckles and steered us off the cliff.

Slop from comfortable, deep pocketed has-beens. Bobby Flay once clawed his way to prominence with hard work and passion. This dude used to make great tv shows, watching him in the kitchen was enjoyable, you saw that ethic and passion to do great things in how he handled food. Now he's utterly phoning it in and putting together a sh*tshow of fake nonsense, and you have a throng of extras: cameramen, editors, musicians, stylists, set designers, chefs who you can tell were all held to a high standard, they're all doing their best to contribute, glimpses of quality and competency, but it's all squandered by those who are above these criticisms and standards, by those who want their fat paychecks, who know they hold all the keys from their stature. They're comfortable in scratching backs and schmoozing and playing the game, resting on their laurels and breathing all the oxygen from of the room. Everything's devolved into this big club of has-beens and back scratchers fervently rubbing elbows in a circle jerk of posh mediocrity. The torch muddies in a puddle.

I miss living in a world where people give a f*ck. I miss living in a world where people bust their ass long hours to make something next level and push the envelope. I miss the days where people crawled through glass, suffered through hell and high water for a chance to prove they have the right stuff. I miss when there were adults in the room who would tell the fakes and grifters to get the hell out of the way so progress could be made. Where did the days go when you could put the TV on after a long day of work and enjoy some quality entertainment by those with a fire in their belly to make something worth your time. I miss living in a world where you can put your faith and hard earned money into a product and not be attacked by ungrateful hacks who have stolen what you find dear. I miss the world where we busted our asses with pride, shoulder to shoulder, compelled by the shared task at hand, because we want to do something that's going to make this f*cked up world a slightly less sh*tty place to trudge through for generations to come. 

OUR WORLD IS RIDDLED BY DISTRACTIONS OF SELF ABSORBTION BY LIMP PEANUT GALLERY F*CKS HIGH IN THEIR IVORY TOWERS, KICKED TO DIRT FOR ILL GOTTEN REVELRIES, MANDATED BY HAND-ME-DOWN CONTRIVANCES OF D*CKLET MORAL SUPERIORITY. 

I HAVE HAD IT WITH THESE MONKEY FIGHTING SNAKES ON THIS MONDAY TO FRIDAY PLANE

I hope this is the push. I hope this is the push that finally leads to a demo that makes some waves, that makes all this hard work and sacrifice something other than forfeit, my existence something other than forfeit.

SeaCrit was never about finding frivolous fortune, or any mundane, self absorbed garbage that has caused so many to throw our world into the trash for self revelry. I'm pretty pumped to get to work tomorrow, I'm also pretty f*cking angry at what the privildged d8mb f*cks with every advantage have done to what few things have any value. I may be deep in a cave, I may be utterly and completely disconnected from this world, from any source of funding, from any source of exposure, from any source of assistance handling this code, art, design. But that's fine, I don't need a publisher to wipe my @ss. I started SeaCrit because I fancied I was pretty good at this sh*t and far as I can tell, everyone else is sh*tting the bed as they blow smoke up their own @sses.  I look back and these years are a blur. I look back on this madness setting in so long ago, the smarmy masses wrestling this world to it's knees in celebration of their mediocrity. Never made any sense to me. Visions of madness day after day year after year for so long, and through it all I've been focusing on this project. Wreslting animation systems, learning to code, fighting bugs every single hard fought day, fighting against burn out, fighting against notions of helplessness, fighting encroaching doubts and feelings of worthlessness as everything seemed to be cindering to ash, as everything felt so hopeless in a world that didn't care.

I have no team to pump up. I have no hands to hive five as I enter this final stretch towards the first decent build of SeaCrit. It's bittersweet that it's just me and this idiot dream listening to Al Pacino talk about finding strength in your team to go the distance in the middle of this quiet night. I miss a great deal what has been squandered over these past few bullsh*t years of inane pettiness and judgmental inanity. 

I've still got the fire after all these years, after being kicked into the dirt time and time again, after slaving year after year through the most tedious bull to get this game online, even in the still maddening quiet of this cave, through the thick and the thin SeaCrit is pressing forward.

It's gonna be a hell of a week, much to do. Ain't out this fight.

Edit 1:

New shaders on the left utilizing some new fresnels and blend stuffs