The little joys of comping Guitar Hero

Like any job as a creative, you spend a lot of time comping ideas for presentations. Luckily for those of us working on Guitar Hero, Flickr is a veritable bottomless magician's hat of picture of people playing the game. Like any social phenomenon, it's well documented on there and on YouTube.

But the best part of comping for Guitar Hero is finding really, really weird shit on Flickr involving Guitar Hero controllers. The images below are highlights from about a two-minute session for "guitar+hero+back".









Yeah. I have no idea what that last one has to do with Guitar Hero or backs, but hey, it was there. My favorite is obviously the dude in the Matrix cape on the roof. You can't make that up.

You should've spent more budget on getting a better concept

I think I was searching for "businessman seated" today on Google Images when this came up.

I suppose it's a more contemporary version of clipart. (Ah, remember lovely, horrible clipart?) Every time I come across images like this (and there seems to be an abundance of them related to businesspeople) I always wonder to myself, Who are these photographers? Who are these people that concept, set up and then shoot these atrocities? Then there's the retoucher, props people, models, all that.

Truthfully, I'm fascinated by this sector of the communications industry. I guess you can find bad art anywhere, just like you can find bad ads, bad writing, bad TV. It still just blows my mind.

Speaking of bad TV/movies . . .

Death scene from Hard Ticket to Hawaii
Tough break.

THAT Guy

You may know that guy. You know, that guy. The one that jumps into the background of an innocent group of girls' photo and utterly ruins it with some bizarre face or obscene gesture. Well, one of my friends from UGA discovered a flaw in the UGA Facebook system and was able to create an account for him. Check him out here, friend him so you can tag your own pictures with him in it.

Oddly enough, Valentine's Day is THAT Guy's birthday (note the spelling). And recently College Humor published a gallery of some of his greatest work. It's not connected to the Facebook page, but still awesome in its own right. Here's just a taste.

Creep McGee.

A classic. A favorite.

The ultimate.

The sasquatch. (Also, what is going on in this picture? And how can I be there?)

Check out the whole gallery for yourself. As someone who's been THAT Guy his fair share of times, I can tell you, there are some true gems in here.

Sunset Boulder

Summer Bummer

Lest anyone forget that it's still summer, here's another little reminder.


The future of advertising right there, ladies and gentleman.

Ahahahahaha

Happy Fourth.

(Sorry, Liza.)

Arch/land

Big day of wins yesterday between the Student Award Show and Baddies--Gold in (of all things) Package Design for my Goya black beans and rice boxes, Best Facial Hair Superlative and another big Beer Olympics win for Four Hairy Chests. (Three out of four quarters reigning champions.)

So, this has nothing to do with that, but here are some things I shot recently.








I call the last one "Irony, Or, How I Feel Every Day." It's a billboard whose pole is actually in our parking lot at school. Right now there's nothing on it. Ironic.

[Again, these colors are so desaturated on here. It's starting to piss me off. They look like crap on here. But trust me, they are sweet.]

Bowled Over

Bowling trip with photography class tonight. Pretty fun actually. Makes sense since we were at Funtime Bowling.

I bowled probably the best game of my life by accident--a 150. Considering that that's halfway to perfection, and I'm almost exactly halfway through school, I'm taking that as a sign that I will be a perfect copywriter/art director/designer/photography by the time I graduate next December.

Lovely.





[Also, why does Blogger dull all the colors and saturation of uploaded images? Lame.]

7,000 Words: the last 3 days in photos

Lines

Escher's paranoia toggles the mind's dim switches—on to black and back—searching for something burning. Flick to Friday nights that punch with the evolutionary whallop of a two-ton kangaroo and a box of matches and tell me that each of us aren't a cloister onto ourselves. A year's peace and five gone. Let's tell it like it is and just go for broke.