Story Environment
There was a sort of buzzing that starts in one's skull. It's hard to tell where exactly it stems from, though many a Hazel conduit have tried. Perhaps the pollen of the waking ferns calls the innermost awareness. Or the whisper of the woods, the dryads and their dreams stimulates the energetic subconscious? One can never be sure from where it came - not even the oldest of stone that caress the skirts of the fey vegetation - but that it was a power both welcoming and volatile was certain.
The North-most part of Fairk county, where this dense, thrumming thicket lives, was not for those faint of heart. One would have to be foolish to even consider the area safe. Ignorant to traverse the well worn trails, softened under unknown soles of the creature that lay within. Foolish AND ignorant, to settle down there. Either that or confident to think, at the expense of their inexperience, they would have a non-magical experience . Unless, of course, they could listen to the call of the charge.
Velma Sandra Hazel was second generation dweller of this fair fey fern. With whispers of love and a glib tongue her father struck deals with the land to reside there; and with nimble hands and a quick brain her mother fostered it's culture and growth. They lived in respect of it, of the creature in the deep and the critters in the damp, and taught Velma the exact way to tickle the stream and hone her craft. And so from the year 1700 to 2000, after her parents had gone and became with the energy once more, Velma had seen the town of Cloudventperth Creek sprout along the mountain brook. From her cozy Tudor cabin atop the Hazel Hills, deep in black pepper brush and lavender still, she had her own children who grew up and took their practices to the city. And those children had children.
It was fresh into fall, when the squashes bear their vibrant skins and the leaves lose their battle to the chill, that the grandchildren would visit. Never more than two at a time (though at least one always present) late September was a time when the spirits would call the parents to arms and wealth would flow from the unsuspecting cursed soul. With no one to watch the gifted young conduits, Velma, with her wonder and lessons hard learned, seemed best to take care.
Evenings were when the sun kissed bye the valley high, and charge innate to the land would lull the children into peaceful silence. Nestled on cozy coaches quarter a century old, and blanketed in the trailing vines from plants that grew into the cabin's beams, their attention was captured by their grandmother as she intertwined with the space. Her song, one that brought safety and slumber, channeled the energy into a warm embrace. The soft spruce sung with every step she took, her grimoire a gentle rustle in chorus to the leaves, and bubbling concoction brown noise to their drifting consciousness. The air bore the deep smell of rained upon earth, though no rain had fallen for quite some time, and paired with the simmering lavender stew it would bring about peace. The small window, letting in the last rays of the day caressed their eyes a gentle close, the glasses of sea and it's contents blurring further still; and the embers of the gentle flame bid the young ones adieu.
This was a safe space.
This was Grandmother's house.
This, was home.
Scene Mood Board
Proxy and Grayboxing
Maya Camera Angle Tests
Unreal Camera Angle Tests
Lighting and Camera's First Pass
Screenshots
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starting first pass
final first Pass
New Lighting References
Lighting and Camera Second pass
Second Pass Screenshots
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Creation of Master Material
Master Material
Examples
Blueprints that contain Static Meshes which use Material Instances from Master Material
Proof of Material Instance Function
First Pass Camera
Set Dressing
Final VIdeos voice-over explanation
