The 2024 REALLUSION 3D Character Contest - PUTTA and Character Creator 4 was used to make the male people semblance individual, the facial and body proportions modified. We explored various lamp illumination. Do you like skin porosity? We changed the hair colors.
The skin porosity adds realism for the close ups. We had problems trying to use GoZ, and installed GoZ for use with ZBrush to make clothing apparel. We have used a bunch of tutorial videos to learn various aspects of the computer software, and our thanks to those who made the videos.
We made the pants, shirt and accessories with ZBrush, and colored textured them with 3dcoat. We posed and used a turntable with REALLUSION iClone 8, and rendered. We uploaded the videos to our account at YouTube, and submitted the contest info.
USE AT YOUR RISK. Do not use abusively. FICTION. He was existant. He was not noticed at all places, at all times, yet he was there, someplace. He waited for you to notice him. You looked at him with prejudice, discriminating and hatreds, jealousy and envy. You departed, yet there was something haunting you, the look in his eyes. You were obsessed, addicted. You wanted to look at him again. There was something to learn of him. What was his name/ Putta. Where did you see him? It was awhile ago. Your mind and memory raced frantic and crazy, trying to remember where you had seen him. You couldn’t get his face out of your mind. You looked and looked, checking history websites that had been deleted departing the browser. You asked friends, strangers, while trying to describe his face. You had a dream, with you and him interlocked in a serious interchange scenario. He said something, you said something, and a third individual lingered in your consciousness. You awoke, sweating and annoyed. Your heart was pounding, then ruptured, and you were dead. There was a funeral, and nobody came, except that one man of your addiction. He walked up to the open coffin box, and looked at you. Your eyes popped open, and you saw his face, his penetrating gaze. You sat up with an urgency to ask him why, what, who, when and where? He walked away not saying anything, and departed the funeral parlor. You climbed out of the coffin, while the funeral parlor director protested vehemently saying that you were supposed to be dead and buried at the cemetery. You both fought, wrestled, and you were knocked unconscious. You were stuffed into the coffin box, and were buried at the cemetery. You are dead now, amongst the dark, with 6 feet of dirt on top of you. It’s a nice day, blue sky and water sprinklers watering the grass. Here comes the grass mower cutting the grass, driven by that man! It’s him, that man again. You scratch at the coffin lid, trying to open the coffin. You try screaming, but you lost your voice many years ago. It is the same scenario every summer, you locked in a dream of your death. Your body organisms decomposed, stunk and dried up. Bugs somehow got into the box and ate your brain and eyes, your tongue. Your skull and bones are still alive, decaying slowly until death do you part. You are waiting time. There are other dead buried all around you at the cemetery. They all stink, collectively. You are in hell.