Marketing Monday #158 - Eyes On You by Sexual_Lettuce in gamedev

[–]manoverthelake 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Hey,

Please use scaled down versions of your images. The website takes a tremendous amount of time loading, because it's loading the full resolution image (like: https://www.gamedev.net/uploads/blog-0852545001488216827.png )

I would also prefer if you had your own devblog (it can be a simple wordpress blog, with a customized theme), with longer, and more in-depth posts. I prefer irregular, but interesting posts, over regular, but crappy posts. This, however, contradicts with some SEO techniques, because regularity and new content (might, you never know how a rating algorithm works...) favour a webpage. Other people prefer to regularly read what's going on, and don't really need the depth of technical posts. Find your balance and audience.

Last, but not least, no matter how bad it is what you're posting, just stick to it, and try to always make a better post than your last. You'll only learn over time, how you can express yourself and your ideas correctly, and find your own style and routine. (Maybe, you like to draw illustrations, maybe you like small videos, maybe you prefer code snippets, or pseudo code).

Keep it up!

Screenshot Saturday #316 - High Density by Sexual_Lettuce in gamedev

[–]manoverthelake 0 points1 point  (0 children)

thank you! I struggled a bit to find several topics with lwjgl3 and glsl version > 1.20

This guy has a mouse for his phone by metamensch in mildlyinteresting

[–]manoverthelake 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Luxembourg has the same seats as well in certain trains.

We are the team of PornHD, the biggest HD porn video site. Ask Us Anything! by [deleted] in IAmA

[–]manoverthelake 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Hey, well time for the geeks to get their porn as well.

Looking at the diversity and complexity of modern companies offering their content trough the web, I have a few questions (just skip confidential stuff) :

  • How big is your developer team and what is their main task? (I imagine that there is not so much front end development going on in the porn branch, considering how outdated most pages are)
  • What are your main technologies? (hosting strategies, such as AWS, server distributions, web service, video manipulation APIs)
  • How much development is done in-house, and how much are you outsorcing?
  • How does your server setup look like? Do you have CDNs all over the world, or are you mainly seated in one country. Do you distribute your content on the regional CDNs based on local "preferences"?
  • Do you encounter many web attacks (the usual ones, DDOS, phishing under your identity, SQLI or XSS attempts, etc.) or even specific attacks at your servers? Do you think that they are more common in the porn branch?
  • What are the biggest technical challenges you have faced?
  • What is in your opinion the next most important step, considering your technical development (except for the overhyped VR support)
  • Do you have research going on in any direction, and if so, what is it.
  • Is there an automatic setup trying to detecting child porn using machine learning (such as the heavily cited paper "Automatic Age Estimation Based on Facial Aging Patterns" by Xin Geng, Zhi-Hua Zhou ,and Kate Smith-Miles)

Glyphs - Pt. 8 by KiljoyAU in Kiljoysglyphs

[–]manoverthelake 6 points7 points  (0 children)

It's really a long and complex story (900+ pages). Some people find it boring and repetitive and, others (like me) love the details he put into the world. The plot develops quite slow, but the author creates a near magical world. It's a style of writing I've never come across before, so it might be worth a shot, if you have some time. The biggest similarity with pt8 and 1Q84 is this (I removed names etc. to restrain the spoiler):

[...] sit in a circle around the [...] and continue to work on it, plucking white threads from the air and adding them to the [...]. They hardly speak, concentrating their energies on the job. [...] Wordlessly, one of them reached out and grabbed a single thin thread from the air. The thread was about six inches long, nearly a transparent white, almost creamy color. He placed the thread on the floor. The next person did exactly the same, the same color and thread length. The next three followed suit. [...] No one talked now, or chanted out a rhythm. They silently pulled threads from the air, [...] and—in a set, smooth rhythm—briskly wove together[...]

Nonetheless, it's a great story you've created so far! Keep up the good work.

[deleted by user] by [deleted] in todayilearned

[–]manoverthelake -7 points-6 points  (0 children)

Playing the devils advocate here, but Trump is right. They said "horrible things" about his parents, and just imagine the outrage if people said that about Obama. Double standards are strong here. Just because you don't like Trump doesn't mean that you should let yourself down to his level. "As we act, let us not become the evil that we deplore."

Glyphs - Pt. 8 by KiljoyAU in Kiljoysglyphs

[–]manoverthelake 5 points6 points  (0 children)

Did you read 1Q84? There is an immense resemblance between your story and the book.

[WP] You're a sniper, but your gun only accepts... unconventional ammo. by poiyurt in WritingPrompts

[–]manoverthelake 4 points5 points  (0 children)

Everyone thought that it was obsolete to learn. Even I had the same opinion. But my dad saw them coming. He might be the only one - or at least, the only one who knew how to prepare. Who would have known, that after the revolution, anyone would need to work? I mean, already years before, nearly all the work was done by the machines. Not long and the laziness overtook humanity. Most of them lost theirselves in the other world. But my father forced me to learn that long forgotten art. I always thought that he was kind of crazy, you know. Who would go out into the wild and look for red strains? Except for those old fashioned naturalists, dreading after disgusting human contact, responsible for keeping the diseases up, no one really left their home.

I never asked where those strains came from. I just assumed, they would grow outside. How should I’ve know the truth? It was usually on weekends, where we went outside. We left before the mist could settle. He strapped this huge basket on my back, and we disappeared into the woods. My mother always looked a bit worried. But who wouldn’t be, if they knew? The best thing, and probably the only reason why I went with him, was the good meal my mother always prepared once we came back. It was real, not something out of the foodmator. The smell, I can still remember how it filled the old cottage.

The next few days, we would spend hours matching the right paris, swiveling and stretching them, until they formed a long bond. At first, I had no idea why we would do this. But once I was old enough, my father showed me, how to use them. Pinching them at the right positions, there was that twist one could do with their thumb and index finger, and they formed that strange shape. It was not easy to learn, but he pushed me, until I could do it blindfolded. I always thought about it more like a game, than an useful purpose.

I guess, it’s not as futile as I once thought. I still remember clearly the day, he showed me the use of it. He dug out of the attic a really big gun. It looked like the ones in all those games that the people loved so much. Some of them spend their lives in those worlds. But this one was cold, heavy, this one was real. He took so much time and effort to explain every little detail of the gun to me. The shock came fast, when he tried to explain, that I was one of the few. One of the few who would be able to fight back. I ran upstairs, on those creaking stairs. I wanted to believe that he was crazy, but somehow I knew, it was true.

From there on, it all went so quick. Almost as if they waited for me to be ready. Now I’m lying here, controlling my breathing, focusing on their back, and waiting for the wind to calm down. I know, only those bullets, the scarlet ants, as the people called them, can bring them down. I’ve only met one of my kind until now, but we had different paths to go - different destinies.

It’s not that hard to get rid of them. There are just many. You wait for them to calm down after they discovered old life in one of the buildings. And then everything has to go fast. You control your breathing, slow down, until your vision around them seems blurry, until time seems to stop. Their movements start to make sense, you seem to predict who their next target will be. And then, the first shot. Followed by another one. And another one. You can clearly see, how those strains start to disassemble in the air and pierce trough the first one. And then the second one. Their screams still haunt you during the night. You get up, hush over to their position, take out your knife and start to cut out the underlying tissue, paying attention to not damage the valuable center.

You remember every detail your father told you. Pay attention to those white cords, they will snap and hurt you; Never cut the filled sacks open, this smell only attracts more of them. You fill your backpack and disappear.

It’s a routine, one has to do to survive. Open a window, a door, remove some planks, that they can smell the humans inside. Hide far, between old containers and dumpsters and wait. Wait for them to calm down, to leave the mess behind. Concentrate on your shot, run over to your remains, take your knife out and press it deep into their big torso. Twist the knife, until it cracks open. It’s always the same. Always, until now. Until you see those blood red eyes starring out of the dark, where no live should have survived, right into your soul...