Indulging my vanity.

And getting what I deserve. I’ve just been re-reading the opening act of RUST, all that ever made it on-line. Half of it makes me cringe beyond belief, although there are still bits I like, even though it’s 4 years since I started it – I still don’t think anyone else has tried much of the storytelling techniques we took a crack at in that, and a few of them really do still work, even if my browser resolution is now too high to actually make the general layout behave quite like it was supposed to – the big reveal is blown, for example, although the splash page works much better now, especially with the improved load times that broadband provides (and the “Cult Of The Burning Clinton” sight gag still makes me smile), over that ones that were such a fucker when you were trying to do anything image heavy back in 99, and couldn’t even afford to assume 56.6 as the slowest speed to cater for.

I’ve had this weird itch to go back to webcomics for the last few months. My own purists “text and images only” thing, nothing with flash, or anything like that. But y’know, to tie them up with databases and PHP as well as javascript and CSS…

But y’know, the thing that still fucking haunts me about RUST is that tagline, that opening image. An angel, with wings of chrome, bleeding out, surrounded by decaying machinery – great corroded cogs, dead junction boxes and the last breath of digital angel.

Angels Rust.

I’ve still got to do something with it.

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