intermitten phobia

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

There's a good chunk of Lovecraft stuff now in the public domain. That might fit the theme a bit better.

[the last yatto]

there's a wealth of great public domain stuff out there lying around waiting for somebody to use it

true true, but i thought like any service they keep the really good images behind the counter...
while i got you here mind dropping the template urls for scribus?



YES lovecraft
plus zargo? or too much for one issue?

re:looking glass
i was thinking one of the absure poems... maybe the one about walrus, carpenter and the oysters...
i really like the wall of text apporach cram? did on etc

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

Well, I have a text file with the complete works of Lovecraft. Shall I upload it somewhere and link it for your perusal, or would you prefer I cut suitable chunks out?

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Since people are posing their fears in this thread, maybe one of us can make a WOMP collage designed to scare the fuck out of everyone on the forum without being remotely frightening to anyone else? Dog-bear-spiders making phonecalls outside of someone's mailbox, or something.

[the last yatto]

Well, I have a text file with the complete works of Lovecraft. Shall I upload it somewhere and link it for your perusal, or would you prefer I cut suitable chunks out?

if its public domain there should already be hosted isnt it?

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

Well, I have a text file with the complete works of Lovecraft. Shall I upload it somewhere and link it for your perusal, or would you prefer I cut suitable chunks out?

if its public domain there should already be hosted isnt it?

Yes, but it took me forever to find. Also, I ended up putting everything in a single file.

[Cramulus]

true true, but i thought like any service they keep the really good images behind the counter...
while i got you here mind dropping the template urls for scribus?

ooh sure -- I'm at work right now and don't have access to the templates, and not sure how many templates I've got lying around at home.

Ratatosk should have them though, if they didn't all go POOF in the Intermittens website disappearing act of 2009.




If there's something "Behind the counter" that you'd really like, a buck fifty is a good price. When image stockhouses sell images for print, they usually give a price based on how big the first print run will be. If IM were a professional magazine, and we were commissioning professional stock photos, the actual price would probably be some number of pennies due to our super-low distribution numbers  . A buck fitty is actually a pretty good price for stock photos if its exactly the photo you need.

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

http://namcub.accela-labs.com/stories/ebooks/lovecraft-full.txt Here is the complete thing. If it doesn't load, assume my disk is having a fit and try again later. If it needs to be cut up, I can provide. Likewise, if it would benefit from a markovization, I can provide.

Edit: Nevermind, I generated the markovization: http://namcub.accela-labs.com/stories/instantLovecraft.txt

It's about as good as the original

[Triple Zero]

I'm sorry but it wasnt... This is Lovecraftian word salad: (well not quite)

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Nyarlathotep

If you need a short bit for Intermittens, just cut the last paragraph:

Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were can tell. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctified temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods -- the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.

[the last yatto]

thanks i was thinking of rendering a word salad along the border that is very cryptic font, and no not ariel

maybe...
http://www.dafont.com/fnord-hodge-podge.font

other suggestions

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

PV Enochian if it's supposed to be totally illegible, Alchemist if it's supposed to be merely funny-looking.

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

I like it . Are you planning to superimpose one on the other? Because, you could probably stick a bunch of layers behind the image.

[the last yatto]

http://www.eeemo.net/

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

In the absence of a proper article, may I submit this? http://namcub.accela-labs.com/stories/jabberwocky.odt

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

Another submission: "WUMPUS"

I SMELL A WUMPUS!
I FEEL A DRAFT
YOU ARE IN ROOM 3
TUNNELS LEAD TO 2 4 12

The sweat drips down my brow, the draft from the nearby pits not calming me. I'm down to my last crooked arrow.

Shoot, or move?

The stench of the wumpus is overpowering. I had been attacked by bats three times already on this hunt. I had wasted my arrows on ghosts. Coming to this cave initially in the hope of feeding my family, my goal is now to stay alive.

Shoot or move?

I shoot, and I have one shot. If it misses, I'm as good as dead.

I could go back from whence I came. I think that was tunnel two. But, they all look alike, and I certainly can't get home now that the bats have made me lose my sense of direction. If I'm right, either tunnel four or tunnel twelve contains the bottomless pit -- and the other contains the wumpus. If I'm wrong, or if the bats are migrating again, turning back could be just as immediately fatal.

Shoot or move?

Regardless of my choice, my chances are slim. "Wait until you see those bats," they sneered in the village. A fool, I ignored them. In the dark dry warmth of the wumpus caves, I could not survive long indecisively -- the only creature who lives here is the wumpus, outside of the bats which are hardly edible and impossible to catch. I might succumb to dehydration first, the geothermal heat dessicating my body and serving as a warning for the likes of me, foolish boys who know not the wily ways of the wumpus caves.

Shoot or move?

I draw my last arrow, choosing tunnel four. I hear a clunk -- I shot into the pit.

Fleeing to the second tunnel, I feel a sudden sense of dread -- but too late. I come face to face with a grue.