h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

*waves a wing at Titania, while wondering what, or who, has come through the rift from (or to) the Library of Doom *

*also decides that studying library stuff for three years definitely makes someone an honourary librarian, which may or may not be a good thing *

How come you've turned into an owl David? How many conversations back is that?

I've downloaded and started playing with Artrage - how do you make the oil paint dry before adding another layer/colour? It keeps smearing...

*flies down to the ground, shedding a couple of feathers*

I realised I was an owl when Lil asked us to describe our online personas. Amy said that she'd always known I was an owl, and was quite surprised that I hadn't noticed...

I don't think the oil paints in ArtRage do dry. So I use the chalks!

David

*on her way back to her rooms from getting a cup of tea, Lil stops at the library*

The oil painting experience in artrage is totally without layers. How the oils perform is what they would do in real life. But if you change to another tool you can draw or crayon over them. This lets you scumble or add detail. And the eraser does interesting things, too.

The matter of David B's online persona reminds me of a favorite stanza from Mervyn Peake's children's verse.
When Uncle Jake
Became a snake
He never found it out;
And so, as no-one mentions it,
One sees him still about.

A pity that Jim Lynn has turned of the search function for conversations - I haven't come across the backlog where Salonistas imagine each other as owls or whatever yet. I wonder which section I've failed to read?

About artrage - is it possible to 'delete' an imported picture once you've painted all over it? I'm using crayons, but I'm not sure how much of the original picture that is shining through...

1. You're thinking of daemons. In the Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pulman (not sure if that should be Phillip), people had animal familiars called daemons.

2. Click on the coin in the middle bottom of the page and you'll see a set of options. If there's an image being traced, you have the option to show or hide it.

The program is full of little unexplained features like that. Did you notice that if you click on the little rainbow in the lower right corner, it hides the palette? You just click there again to bring it up again. Ditto with the tools.

Hmm. I don't think me as an owl was from a daemon conversation, as I'm not sure I've been in the Salon when such a discussion has taken place. I do like the Pullman trilogy, though. It came from your idea to paint a group shot of the Salonistas and the subsequent need to find out what we all look like. So a bit before ArtRage, I think, but not all that long ago.

*tidies up the works of Charles Dickens*

David

Good, there don't appear to be any other uninvited visitors. I have to get the caveman back to his own time and get this lock secured before someone really dangerous shows up and Hypatia gives my circuits to Captain Nemo for safekeeping.

He looks thirsty. I should give him a drink first. These biological creatures are such a nuisance.

* a small, brown shape scurries around the perimeter, stops suddenly and raises itself onto back legs, nose wiffling as it scents the air

*enters the portal lounge in search of coffee, a cinnamon bun and some kibble for StarKist*

What's that awful smell?

*notices the caveman and a rather flustered Eleven*

Where did he come from? You're going to have to put him back, you know.

*she turns to the aromatic visitor* Exactly which book are you from?

*has followed Number Eleven and Caveman Jack into the library*

My first guess would have been a Jean Auel novel. But the name is somehow redolent of F. Paul Wilson's Repairman Jack novels...

*offers Hypatia a bun from the tray she's carrying*

My finely tuned librarian senses twingled. What in heck is going on?

*Peers into Rift in a worried sort of way*

I blame our builders. They're knocking through a wall at the far end of the fourth-floor stacks. I think they've destabilised L-Space.

* the small brown beastie is helping himself to cinnamon bun crumbs when he has a wizard wheeze

"Oi - why don't you try a babelfish if you want to know what the big smelly creature's saying"

*eyes TimorousBeastie*

If we're lucky he won't be here long enough to make that necessary.

Excuse me, have we met?

Eleven, are there any bablefish left?

*also eyes Timorous Beastie* A babelfish is all very well, but you have to persuade the fellow to stick it in his ear first.

Pleased to meet you, incidentally; please excuse our distractedness, but we've had ever so many strange and new visitors...

* the mouse stands on his back legs and makes an elegant bow

"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies. If you would like to let me have a babelfish, I might be able to help."

*wanders in on her daily amble and looks somewhat bemused, then looks for a copy of 'The Whiteoaks of Jalna', retrieves it, scans it and heads off to the Salon for a comfy afternoon's reading*

*rummages around in her desk and produces a babelfish for the small visitor*

This is nearly as large as you are. Are you sure you can handle it? Perhaps we should let Eleven do it. Besides his larger size, he has the advantage of not being able to smell the caveman.

Eleven, we need this situation resolved quickly. I can't have this smell in my library.

Introduces newcomers to long-standing principles governing creative play in the Atelier:

1. Respect your fellow players' free will. Do not foist actions on other players, no matter how much you desire a certain outcome. You may throw a custard pie at Player X, but it is up to Player X to say whether they caught the pie, hurled it elsewhere, or took it full in the face.

2. Respect the plot, such as it may be. If a number of players seem to be in consensus about something that is happening, it is very rude of you to leap in and change the plot entirely. Heroes and villains are of course contending for the outcome, but as part of respecting free choice, we refrain from taking over the story or twisting it violently in midstream.

3. Respect the possibilities inherent in your character. Long experience has shown that an adventure or quest is much more satisfying all around if participants restrict themselves from instant solutions. If you should be imprisoned, you could magically burst your bonds in the very next post, but where is the fun in that for everyone else? In the long run, super powers are boring.

4. Respect the environment. You may post that you discover items, but it is an imposition to invent anything which contravenes the story so far. If a group of players are in the dining room having tea, it is rude in the extreme to invent a rhino charge going through the room. Broken cups and furniture would forever have to be accounted for.

5. Respect other people's devices. Once something has been brought into the action, whether it's a pair of pliers or a garden gnome, it becomes part of the story and its existence becomes a fact of life for all other players AND audience members. Per rule 4, this power of invention must be used carefully and with consideration.



*observes the babelfish with interest* How do babelfish live out of water??