I clambered
down the Snowlord’s peak until I found an outcropping large and wide enough to
support the phlebotimiser. I set up its tripod and mounted it, plugging in the
ancillary widgets and booting up the compression engine.
Soon the air
was humming with latent energy. The cold air that whipped around the
mountaintop was warmed by unnerving currents and the occasional flurry of
snowflakes became a roiling, pulsing blizzard. Arcs of energy violet suddenly
began to rend the air surrounding the phlebotimiser, earthing themselves in the
exposed rock, or vaporising snowdrifts. Hypercharged particle of whimsy slammed
into each other releasing bursts of flim-flam. Ultimately, I knew I had very
little control over the phlebotomiser in this state, but it didn’t stop me from
throwing wide my arms and shouting, “Bring me a hero; a character of great
depth and human interest!”
The
unnecessary amount of scene setting began to approach 100 mili-Rowlings when,
with a hum, the phlebotimiser stabilised and I knew that what I needed was about
to step through.
My initial
excitement quickly turned to puzzlement as the phlemotomiser disgorged a
bizarre assortment of individuals. “Oh,” I muttered, “the Snowlord is not going
to like this.”
***
The Snowlord
lifted his head from his prize snowdrops as the laboured hum of overworked
engines reached him on the wind. Steadily it grew stronger until a column of
vehicles dragged itself, agonisingly slowly, up the final bend on the path to
the peak.
Seeing who approached - dismounting from the lead vehicle - he crossed his arms skeptically and said, “I asked for a character, not a squadron of tanks and
transports.”
The challenger
looked sheepish, “Well… there were complications, but I did indeed fulfill your
challenge."
“This is Sam.
They’re an Afghan Cap.”
“A what.”
“An AFGNCAAP.
An Ageless, Faceless, Gender-Neutral, Culturally Ambiguous Adventure Person. I
think they’re an escapee from a defunct sci-fi third person shooter that they
used to be the Player Character in. It doesn’t get more characterful than
that.”
“But if
they’re game was never made, they don’t have a backstory!”
“Ah, but we’ve
gone meta you see. Because they’re a tabula rasa escaped from an EA game or
whatever, their drive and further adventures all involve self-discovery and the
formation of their own character. And probably melting corporate lawyers with a
plasma pistol.”
“Now that’s a
game I might play. So what’s with all the dated armoured vehicles?”
“Not sure.
Sometime the phlebotimiser just likes to throw random stuff my way. But they
were kind enough to give us a lift. My French isn’t great, but they said
something about being left on the shelf for two years?”
“Well, you
seem to have completed your challenge, now time for…”
“There is one
more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“This guy.”
“Is that a
bana…”
“Yes.”
“Why is there
a bana…”
“I don’t
know.”
The banana
watched us impassively.
“Does it... have
a name?”
“I don’t know.
It can’t speak. It’s a banana.”
“Does it have
a story?”
“Again, it... it
can’t talk, it’s a banana.”
“I’m going to
pretend this didn’t happen.”
“That seems
fair.”
“Now come,
claim your reward.”
I turned my
back for the last time on the bizarre, ever changing view of Challenge Island
that the peak afforded. Somehow, I knew that I would be back, if not here, then
somewhere very much like it.
***
It had been a
dramatic final sprint for the finish line. I’ve decided to include everything
I’ve been painting, as the initial item, plus those I chose as backups, arrived in reverse order.
The French
armour was left over from the challenge 2 years ago, and I negotiated with Curt
to use it as a backup when my preferred beer based 3D printer person went dark.
Most of the way into painting them, my backup beer based 3D printer person
delivered the generic space adventurer and the banana knight (do doo do do do)
and most of the way into painting them my original 3D printer person
came through for me, but too late to be ready for the final deadline.
The Banana
Knight (do do do do) really is indicative of the amount of restraint both
showed when I gave them my brief, as beyond “a character” “not too complicated”
“and preferably 28mm” I didn’t really give them much guidance. Not only were
they very up for it, but they avoided the depraved excesses of the Thingyverses
darker corners. The phrases “so many tits” and “Dickosaurus Rex” were bandied
about.
In all
honesty, I’m very happy with the way the generic space adventurer came out. The
prints were quite rough (due to the quality of the printer being used) and I
didn’t initially think that I would have enough skill or patience to salvage
the figure.
I don’t know
what to think about the French. I hate painting their three colour camo.
It takes ages and somehow I don’t think I really capture the… je ne sais quoi of
the actual design. Still, good enough for army work. For technical reasons (I
lost my decal sheet) I will be decaling the figures and flocking the bases at a
later date.
Meanwhile in
international events:
With
everything else I do – dance, fencing, general nerdery – being cancelled, it
looks like I will be continuing my painting challenge for a bonus round. The
expectation is that work will be sending us home any time soon (we’ll still
have to work from home, booo!) so that’s another 40mins of commuting time a day
saved. I’m planning to call it the COVID cup or something similar. I’m going to
clear the rest of my paint queue and really get stuck into the led pile. I’ll
start posting the progress on the blog again so please feel free to drop by.
Also I hope
everyone is staying safe, and if they’re not in a risk group, looking out for
those around them. It’s a real privilege to get to paint alongside you all, and
I hope that I will see you all again in the years to come.
__________________________________
For your efforts, I present to you Simon's bespoke golden Dalek (with just a tantalising hint of Nuln Oil)
Sebastian, it was a delight having you with us again this year. Take care and be sure to be back for the next edition of the Challenge.
-Curt
