full rig

The Friendship of Salem is a 171-foot replica of a 1797 East Indiaman; Friendship, built in the Scarano Brothers Shipyard in Albany, New York, in 2000.

Class & type: Full rigged ship  Length:171 ft (52 m) bowsprit to spanker boom Beam:30 ft (9.1 m)Height:20 ft (6.1 m) keel to deck at midship    Decks:main deck, ‘tween deck, and holds   Installed power: onboard generators   Propulsion:21 sails, twin diesel engines   Speed:7.2 maximum / 5.8 average knots    Boats & landing
craft carried:1 jolly boat Complement:25 crew, up to 45 persons

I’ve been using some new plugins lately to help streamline the animation process a bit. It’s still a little wonky in some parts but I’m happy with how this head rotation turned out. It works really well when incorporated with a full character rig as well, but the disembodied Ponk head goes really well with the Super Mario 64 title music.

The American aircraft carrier USS Independence (CV-62) flashed the Italian Amerigo Vespucci with light signal asking “Who are you?”, the full rigged ship answered “Training ship Amerigo Vespucci, Italian Navy.” The US ship replied You are the most beautiful ship in the world.

Helios Full Rig!

Hello everyone, here’s an animation update and how there’s a full rig of Helios done now!

It works real well and with a few more tweaks I’ll have all the templates I need :D

Made an HD video with full sound available to our patrons, of course.

But isn’t this awesome!  Can’t wait to use it on more projects!

powerovernothing  asked:

Honestly, I have several Yondad related ideas and concepts that either deal with a young Peter and his first few years with the Ravagers, or perhaps just in general where Yondu is overly protective and worried. But like he would ever admit it. So how about an idea where Peter, maybe barely a teenager, is taking on a solo mission and gets in way over his head. Barely half alive, and Yondu has to come and save his ass. And there's no way he's worried, or afraid of Peter dying. No way~ ;)

You got it, dude!
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“Alright, listen up, boy. Tonight, in honor of your 13th Terran year, I’m giving ya special permission to go on yer first solo raid.”

Yondu held up an evaporative facial rig in front of Peter’s face. His birthday gift. Quill’s eyes went wide at the earpiece offered to him.

He wished that they’d waited another year.

“Is..this mine?”

“Only if ya know what it’s for!” The elder Ravager teased.

Peter snatched the earpiece from Yondu’s hand, placed it in his right ear, and fumbled for the switch that would activate the full mask. With the press of a button, the full rig materialized from thin air, covering his face.

This was a big mistake. It had all been a big mistake. And he’d let the boy get caught up in the middle.

“Whoa!!” He exclaimed, the mask’s view ports igniting a bright, glowing red.

“This here rig is what’ll keep ya breathin’ in the event y'all screw up and get yourself sucked out an airlock or sumthin’. And in addition, we’ll be able to watch you makin’ us proud from right here on the ship, nice and cozy. It’s got a built in camera in the lenses.”

That damned camera. He’d had to watch it all..they’d all had to. While those assholes had beaten Quill black and blue and some in between. All over some dumb-assed little trinket he’d HAD to have for his console, so he could rub it in everyone’s faces.

“Your target is a mobile Gallery. This ship is stuffed to the brim with some of the finest art in the galaxy. And I have a mighty want for this little beauty.”

Peter struggled into his boots and leather jacket, way too excited to be efficient, as Yondu flashed him a hologram of a small, bird-like statue. It’s wings and feathers were made up of gems and crystals in shades of gold, red, and turquoise. It was very pretty.

“What’s the security team like?” He asked, carefully making sure that both his Walkman and his earpiece were secure.

Not to be trifled with.

“Aw, don’t pay them no mind, Quill, they’s nothing. There’s only five ‘a them.”

There had been so many more than five. They. Were. Not. Nothing. They damn near killed his boy. But then who was he to know they’d enlisted an entire battalion to serve guard over a BIRD of all things.

The crew watched silently from the ship as the hulking guardsmen beat Quill into the ground. He screamed for help. Anyone’s name he could remember on the crew, he yelled it. But he cried for Yondu the most. Eventually he stopped talking all together.

Finally the Ravager captain could take no more and ordered a counter strike. He and the crew silently boarded the gallery ship and made their way to the exhibition hall, where the watchmen were still pummeling the poor kid.

Yondu waited behind a bit while his men tore in and started going toe to toe with the guards. Once most of them had been distracted, he swooped in, scraped Quill off the floor, and then proceeded to haul ass back to his own vessel.

He ran as fast as he could, hurrying to get Peter to medical, heart pounding the entire way. The Terran boy was hardly conscious, the only indication of his being awake a pained moan or a wheeze.

“C'mon, c'mon! Don’t you quit me, boy!” He shakes him lightly as they move. Probably a bad idea, but the reassurance that Pete’s awake grounds him more than anything.

They round the corner into the medical wing and Yondu lays Quill on the table, resetting the machinery to treat Terran injuries. Peter’s looking paler by the minute. Yondu flips the switch to start up the diagnostic scanner.

Scans come up showing cracked ribs, bruising on the majority of his digestive tract and then some, and what appears to be internal hemorrhaging.

“Shit boy..you messed yourself up real good this time, didn’t ya?”

Thankfully (due to advanced space tech, that is probably stolen) the bleeding is an easy, reversible fix. A regeneration beam bathes Quill in a warm light the blood flow begins to staunch and return to it’s designated places in the body. Yondu pulls the boy’s jacket off as gently as possible, and lifts the edge of his shirt.

A clear, detailed bruise in the shape of a boot print mars Peter’s stomach, standing out in a vibrant aray of reds and purples. It sticks out like a brand. The centurian is so enraged by this that he nearly sends his yaka arrow into a wall. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls Quill’s shirt back down, sets the boy up with some oxygen, and waits.

Then next 12 minutes are the longest of his life so far. Peter’s ribs and bruises will unfortunately have to heal on their own. They can’t waste that much energy. But that’s ok. He’s doesn’t need to be going out on any more runs where Yondu can’t keep an eye on him at all times.

Kraglin’s voice comes in staticky over his comm by the time Peter finally starts to come around.

He says that the guards are dead. He asks if he still wants the bird. Yondu tells him no. The bird was a bust. It’s not worth it.

Peter mumbles something that sounds like his name and he relaxes visibly in relief. Yondu pulls the boy into his arms, wary of his ribs and the regeneration beam, and just holds him. He’d never admit it to the crew, but a few rogue tears escaped him that night.

“Don’t you ever do anything to scare me like that again, Quill. Never.” He snivels.

Peter leans against his chest bonelessly, completely spent. He wheezes a little when he breathes, but it isn’t anything to worry about too much. Kiddo’s alive. That’s all that matters right now.

The moment is sweet. Almost tender, akin to that of a real father and son. That is, until Pete spews what was left of dinner all over Yondu’s Ravager garb. Then it’s less sweet.

“Boy-o, I hope you know that you’s the one gonna be cleanin’ this up.” Comes out in a grumble, but secretly, he doesn’t mean it.

Not that the comment’s intended target had heard him, anyway. Quill was solidly out cold now.

Yondu’ll probably end up sneaking both of their laundry to be done while everyone else is asleep. Or have Kraglin make himself useful.

3

I am about out of candle left to burn. I am finally experiencing the desperation of not being able to find any veins because they are all blown up or buried under misses, almost like I have rocks under my skin. These misses are a blow to my ego, and they hurt more than just my body. I am embarrassed to try and do shots in front of anyone because I have to fish for a usable vein, and 9 times out of 10 I end up with a rig full of blood and a chip on my shoulder. I get so mad that I could stomp on kittens, I’m filled with an urge to just hurt everyone around me in the worst possible way. My girlfriend has been taking an emotional beating that I can hardly believe she puts up with. I feel so bad about it, but at the time I just lose all rational thought and just spray hatred. Fuck, I’m so deep into this that I can’t stop and it’s only a matter of time before I push the only person that I have left away.

anonymous asked:

For your character design dilemma, why not a coat that’s tailored to the waist and then more swishy? It seems like a full coat, with reinforcement straps adding flair, until you realize the whole goddamn thing is a pocket. Depending on footwear or pants, it could also be almost a full rig, snapping on to rings on the top of boots/pants legs for stability to move with him when he runs? Suspenders and other “flair” pieces of the coat equalize weight distribution

Ok first of all, thank you so much for this, it’s an amazing idea

Secondly:  so what i took from this was pockets and scroll holder belts, rings ect hidden underneath a false liner which connects to the inside of the coat via easily undone clasps (such as metal corset clasps) So the coat doesn’t actually have to be done up as he would probably trip on it while parkoring over everything.

Is this sort of what you meant or am i waaaay off? Clothing and details isn’t a strong suit of mine haha

Mystic, Connecticut, Preserves Memories of Sail’s Day of Glory

Sealers, whalers, and clippers once sailed for the seven seas from Mystic shipyards and wharves. Today sailormen best know the little port as home of the Marine Historical Association’s maritime museum. Here in restoration lives a New England seaport of 100 years ago, complete with ropewalk and shipsmith’s shop, counting house and sail loft. At the wharves lie ships of the past– the whaler Charles W. Morgan, the early coasting schooner Australia, and the full-rigged Joseph Conrad (visible through window).

John Muise, a shipwright before he joined the museum staff, works on a square-rigged American cargo carrier with the single topsails and long steeving jib boom common in the early 19th century

Muise restores a figurehead probably from a British merchantman built in the 1850s. Wall posters advertise a pre-Revolution spermaceti candlemaker and ship’s chandler at Newport, Rhode Island.

National Geographic, June 1955

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THE T-SHIRT ISSUE ‘Muybridge Part Two’ at MAD NYC

Art collective THE T-SHIRT ISSUE were born out of a frustration with the current approach to clothing design and their result is an innovative digital approach to apparel construction that uses a 3D construction technique to give them the freedom to create garments that begin with a concept. Their latest installation, Muybridge Part Two, is currently on show at the Museum of Arts and Design in NYC. The exhibition is a study on temporal change in 3D: a bird in full flight is rigged, animated, and transported into T-shirts, and is inspired by Edward Muybridge’s photography from the late 1800′s which pioneered the capture of animal and human locomotion. Exhibitors alongside THE T-SHIRT ISSUE include Zaha Hadid, Frank Stella, Anish Kapoor and many more. The show continues until June 1.


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