Backgrounds of the dead world

Someone once told me "Drawing characters is fine, but they're nothing if they have nowhere to live, to work, to play and explore." Then I became obsessed with backgrounds in films and games.

When I first thought of Wastelands I was stranded in the middle of nowhere with an old church (accompanying cemetery), a lone road and two wheat fields on each side stretching to far as I could see.

Inspiration from the various post apocalyptic over humanity has passed and nature takes it course and beautiful concept art from Uncharted helped me develop the plot that the Gods really had left and abandoned the world that they lived in, leaving chaos, fights and wars to break out; not tending to temples and leaving the foliage to grow and wonder about.

This was what I worked to, to take inspiration from old civilizations like the Mayans and old temples covered in the vines and hidden from the world. To have people losing faith from their Gods and abandon them to trust themselves. Some try to bring the Gods back by praying and searching all over but it doesn't work.
Tablets and walls crumbling as tree slowly grow and push, stones breaking letting sunlight and seeds to sprout. Places where no one walks anymore, except for thieves and the Guardians that feast on them, that comfortable but uneasy silence that urges you to explore and feed your curiosity.

I'll keep practicing, to make this little world of mine better. Slowly.

Cry of Fear

Things haven't been going well the last month. But you don't want to hear that. No one does.

Been playing Cry of Fear, a horror HL2 mod by the same chaps who made Afraid of Monsters. Came out last week and has instantly become one of the most downloaded HL2 mods I believe with all the coverage. It's terrifying, if you have the bottle to play it, I suggest you give it a try.

I have reopened my shop with new items. My existing Wasteland comic books need to go so I can try and have some money to put towards printing again. I have a special promo going that every order comes with one of my Marble artbooks

 http://www.etsy.com/shop/Petitecreme

Silent hill 4 styled interior

Happy new year everyone. Here is my contribution to What's the time Mrs Wolf magazine.

Current WIP

Current pieces working on.

Doppleganger is still a devil

It was after hours and the Doppleganger was already late as it was with his usual duties and was losing patience as The Little Prince scampered behind, considering it all a game.

“Wait up, come on! You’re going too fast!” The Doppleganger bit his tongue and strode faster, his patience short and didn’t want to be around the child any longer. He had spent the day tending to his needs and he grew tired of the Little Prince’s childish games and attitude.

“I don’t have time for you, I have proper work to do. Go to bed to something.”

“No! I don’t want to, it’s still early, let’s play more.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to, I’m the Prince, I order you to keep playing with me!” He stamped his foot and folded his arms with a scowl. “You never play with me, friends play! So I order you to play!”

The Doppleganger stopped suddenly, teeth gritting, he turned and stormed back to the child. Magenta eyes blazing.

“Play? PLAY!? YOU CANNOT ORDER ME TO PLAY YOU FUCKING LITTLE BRAT!” He shoved the child hard, watching his frown turn into fear and backed away from the devil. “I only listen to you because I follow your father! You shouldn’t even be alive you disgusting piece of shit! You have no idea what I would do to you if I had the chance! Fucking tear you to PIECES!” His fangs bared and approaching the child with malice and the intention to kill in his eyes.

At the back of his mind, he considered that he may have gone too far as he watched the Little Prince slip and fall down the marble staircase, the sound of the boy’s skull cracking and body contorting at the bottom of the flight.

He stood there, watching the blood seep out of The Little Prince, the smell of fresh blood filling his nostrils, before he carried on across the hallway, to complete his chores.

The Knight who dominates

“No, please!” the Doppleganger winced and hissed in pain as his body slammed hard again the marble wall. His arm sharply bent high, straining to break. The deep snarling behind his ear wasn’t an act; “You go near him again and I will gut you, do you understand, you runt?” A further twist on the arm, a pained cry, a blade lodged against the shape-shifter’s throat. The Knight’s power stronger than his own and he saw stars when the Knight made sure the information would stay in his head, smashing it against the wall.

He tried to run, slipping into the shadows, but the Knight being made of the darkness himself, tormented and punished him severely, throwing him out of the vortex and across the hall. A hard punch to the skull made sure to let him know never to try that again. “You touch the Master again, you even look at him in the eyes and I will make sure you wish you were never saved!” He couldn’t speak as the boot crushed his jaw but the pained whine left the Knight smirking as he had enough and walked off, leaving the Doppleganger to pick himself up and lick his wounds.

It used to be a routine, daily, weekly, whenever. He grew afraid and scared to be summoned by his Master for the Knight would always be there, burning hot anger into his eyes. He became terrified and lost all confidence in himself and of his proud past.

Maybe, the Doppleganger thought, as when the Little Prince came into his life, that it wasn’t so bad, to just have someone who wouldn’t hurt him.

In the land of Limbo

Trying desperately to finish a short project I started a few months ago. A short 32 page comic involving stepping onto the plains of the other side. A mix of comic and narrative writing.
I haven't really wrote much here have I? I have a temporary job at Waterstones, enjoying it immensely being surrounded by books and being in charge of trying to tend the Graphic novel/Manga/Scifi/Fantasy/Crime section. Still looking for a full time job anywhere, been sick and unwell too many times since I graduated, questioned my existence and devoured enough cake within the last two months to open a bakery.

Cannot express my sadness in applying for over 70 art positions, jobs and projects and all being turned down. Bedroom come studio is hardly the place for me to work (my chair is so big it knocks the contents on the shelfs behind) and I'm halfway on obtaining all the achievements in Team Fortress 2 (not to mention spending too much in the Mann.co store).


Was interviewed by Think Act Vote and provided some artwork for their new book to be released next year.

Inspired scifi anthology

Sample page of my scifi short Cleaner Sky for Inspired anthology Science Fiction Octuple Feature which will be featured at ThoughtBubble convention this weekend in Leeds. Sadly I will not be attending but fellow buds Sammy Borras (known for her Best Day Ever work) and Sarah Fogg will be there. A few copies of my print version Wastelands will be available too if you're around.

Doppleganger babysitter

He was once a feared creature that went by many names; Rakshasa, Transmogrifier, Therianthrope, man’s own shadow, the dark figure, that which steals your shape…Doppelgänger. He was one of the strongest demons that outsmarted Noblemen, Priest’s and Kings. Stole their first borns, threw castles into ruin, turned best friends into mortal enemies. He got off on pulling tricks, luring fair maidens and admiring how the bravest of knights crumbled and fell at his feet.

He was then chosen and given an important task, to protect and defend the Great Tower, for thousands of years he waited in silence and darkness until it stirred and came face to a man who he would call his first Master. At the time he loathed how he could be defeated to something so small and weak but time grew along and could never be happier.

Time moved on, things had to change, he became lost and was found by his second Master, his first Master’s brother no less. It wasn’t what he wanted. Though this master was wise, cunning and strong, he became reduced to nothing. Keeping appearance of someone decades ago, he refused to change shape and ended up being the runt of the pack. His years of experience and strength cast aside to be nothing more than an errand boy.

The final nail of the coffin was the Little Prince. Reduced to a babysitter, an escort. He hated it and hated the spoilt maggot he had to follow day in and day out. He wanted anything to get away, he was bitter towards the Little Prince. Always walked too fast, talked in languages his little ears couldn’t understand, bully him, tease him, pick on him; and yet the Little Prince was always coming back, like a puppy.

It sickened him.