So you want your sprays to have that extra pop? You want them to move and shake a little? Well this handy little guide will tell you how. Here’s what you need:

• Photoshop C.S. or something simular like GIMP (I’m using PS for this tutorial)
• Team Fortress 2
• Winrar
• Notepad
• Vtex (provided)

Ok, here’s the spray we’ll be making:

It’s important to remember that there is a size limitation of 120KB, which is why we are creating these sprays at 128×128 pixels instead of 256×256 pixels. The game itself will enlarge them to 256×256, albeit a bit blurry (as seen in the example). Due to this size limitation, there’s also a limit to the number of frames. It’s a bit touch and go there, I found that 5 frames is safe.

First we’re making the frames we’re using. Create a new document in photoshop at 126×126 pixels and a transparent background. Write a 1 in the center of the frame (in courier sans). Save this image as .psd so you can later repeat the steps below for the 2 and the 3, simply by changing the writing.

Next rightclick on the layer and choose rasterize type.

Now we have a pixelated 1 in the middle of an empty document.
Next click the channel tab and the new channel tab to create an alpha channel.

Using the magic wand selection tool, click outside of the 1 and make this black in the alpha layer.

Remember:

• White = Visible
• Black = Fully Transparent
• Shades of Gray = Partial Transparency

Now it’s time to save the file as spray001.tga

Repeat the above steps for the 2 and the 3 and place these three files in the same folder with filenames ending with 00# where # is the number of the frame, 1 being the first frame.

When you’re done you should have three files: spray001.tga for the 1, spray002.tga for the 2 and spray003.tga for the 3.

Now it’s time to convert the file to a spray for Team Fortress.  The method I’m using is something that I’ve taken from another website which has been taken down now, so I’m hosting the file myself. But the credits go to a guy named SMiDDY. I have left the original readme.txt in the rar, so credits go where credits are due.

First download this file and unrar it somewhere on your computer.

Now  put all three .tgas in the hl2/materialsrc/animated folder inside the folder that was made when un-raring the file.

Edit the spray.txt file (in the same folder) in notepad and replace the endframe value to the amount of frames you have, 3 in this case.

Run convert.bat – your .vtf will appear at hl2/materials/animated/
Note: If your .vtf file is over 120kb, you will have to go back and edit the amount of frames you have of the size of your frames until they are under 120kb, otherwise you will not be able to use the spray.

I advise to rename the file now to something like: counting-ani.vtf

Put the .vtf file into <steamfolder>\steamapps\<your_steam_ID>\team fortress 2\tf\materials\VGUI\logos\

Open notepad and make a new file and put in this text:

LightmappedGeneric”
{
“$basetexture” “vgui\logos\gabedance”
“$decal” “1″
“$decalscale” “1″

}

Then save it as counting-ani.vmt in the same dir as you saved the .vtf  (or a different name if you renamed the file differently).

And that’s all, fire up Team Fortress and test out your new spray.

I’ll start of with Pictaculous a wonderful tool to get a colour palette to go with your image. Please note: It doesn’t work well with CMYK images, so be sure to upload the RGB version.

Next is a tutorial I ran into to create a smashing 3D text that looks natural using both illustrator and photoshop. I like this one, because I rarely run into tutorials that also use illustrator. You can find it here over at Six Rivisions.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s using a script letter. But every once in a while you get a design that just calls for a hand-written font. The Calligrapic section over at Font Squirrel has a lot of very good handwritten fonts.

And last but not least, four photoshop brush sets I have found and saved this month which I think are awesome. Click on the images to go to their download page on DeviantArt.

The good: Howmuchfortheape.com went live today. But wait, didn’t you just say it went down? I did. I’m turning it into a personal portfolio site for myself. Or at least, something like it. Basically a personal homepage. It will hold a blog where I will still write stuff. My stories from the old site will also be featured somewhere on the this site and I am going to host my game screenshots on it, since I’m already hosting them on this web-space and the plug-in I’m using now is so much easier then the one I currently have.

That was all, I would like to thank everybody that made this site possible, mainly Mike who inspired me to make it in the first place.

It was a fun dream while it lasted. Farewell apeshit, I will miss you.

The trip to the festival was a disappointment; no reggae bands yet, just a MC and a DJ. We decided to check out the craft market we heard about. Terrible paranoia crept upon us the moment we entered. Every stand had it’s own music. Which in some way all had very, very loud bass. We rushed through, clearly not drunk enough to handle this. A drunken mind can shut out all the noise and focus on the important stuff. Sadly, a drunken mind decides for itself just what the important stuff is. My findings are that this mostly results in pussy and beer. A good combination, unless you’re drinking one from the other. I’m straying from the point.

Terrible gibberish at the campsite; money makes the world go round, so does self-made beer. These Belgium’s are weird people. Their language is almost identical to mine; however I don’t understand a thing they are saying. The true Reggae Feeling is C. What C? What are you talking about man? You’re useless, all of you.

My photographer and myself find ourselves reunited somehow, at the craft market. My mind is in such a state that it can filter out all the music. This did result in buying a terrible Hawaiian shirt together with my photographer, but hey, chick must think we are hot now. I mean, look at us.
After leaving the craft market, we return to with our journey. We were searching for something, it isn’t quite clear what it was. But man, are these girls hot. I decide to look at the thing in my hand, a yellow coke bottle… What is this? Reggae Geel coke bottles? What’s the use? Why? Why would a big ass corporation like Coca Cola be interested in a reggae festival, what’s the point? I can’t grasp is, fuck man, what’s next… This is the end. Next thing you know I’ll be putting on a rubber in the shape of a coke bottle. Fuck man, why not? The fuckers will get away with it.

I find myself at the campsite, totally relaxed. The boom box is playing the Toy Dolls this has to be the Reggae Feeling, escaping the mayhem and craziness of a festival, the conversations that you forget only seconds after they end. Escaping from the never-ending reggae with some British punk. Yes, this is true relaxation. It might have been the guy who I’ve never seen and pressed a joint in my hand, only to pass out seconds later. I don’t know.

Well well, that’s that..
Beer more beer, why the hell here?
Ok give the man paper and some towels.

This morning has been rough; to say the least… now after finding some shade and beer the recovering has began. Just lost three bucks in poker, which is quite the accomplishment seeing we were playing for cents. I lost the Reggae Feeling, or I might never have found it. My appointed photographer is rambling about truth and the lack of it. There is no Reggae Feeling.
This is quite disturbing coming from a black man with a dreaded mohawk. Fuck, he is the closest thing we have to a Rasta. The search goes on. There will be no stopping. I did realise that there are less drunken idiots here then at a regular festival. There might be some connection.

There is some truth…. somewhere.

Fucking wasps, everywhere. What do these little fuckers want? I found the cocktail bar and ever since they are bothering me even more. My drink of choice is a Rasta safari. But in my other hand I’m holding my vodka caffeine. Bloody brilliant combination if you ask me. My photographer is out of collision, due to too many THC, eating in a horrible deadly fashion. He’s tripping by the campsite. I think we won’t see him for the next couple of hours. He needs beer, that’s right it’s a bloody festival. What is this Reggae Feeling, I wonder. Maybe I’ll find it, later, after organising this mess, these terrible notes. My photographer deemed it necessary to make some additions. So many possibilities.
Maybe it is the feeling of relaxation when retreating with some punk music. Every pie has it’s own flavour. I didn’t go backstage. The big fucker at the entrance said my press pass wasn’t valid. And since it wasn’t, there was no point. I didn’t think of the possibility that they wouldn’t believe me. And why would they hide the Reggae Feeling back there.
It’s fucking Woodstock in 2004. There is almost a religious aspect to this festival, the almighty Jah and king Rastafari, the terrible dictator who some Rasta’s believe is Jesus. They are the Jews and Ethiopia is the Promised Land. Holy mount Zion.

What is this terrible thing eating me from the inside. My vision has gone blurry, my balance is gone and I can’t make a coherent sentence leave my mouth. My liver has gone on strike. Who can blame him? He’s been working hard for two days now. My photographer is still missing, have you seen him? He’s black, just like you. Terrible gibberish around me about lighters, why? It’s not that you need it; your cigarette is lit.

The night ended in a blur and when the morning came most tents around mine were already gone. My photographer was packing his and offered to help me pack mine when I recovered. I needed to take a dumb, but the toilets were all messed up. Man, they threw one over and put it back up, shit was coming from under the door. Fuck this I thought; let’s go. After packing the stuff we drove back to our home. Making a stop only to take a dump at the nearest gas station. Did I find the Reggae Feeling? I don’t know. Maybe it was the feeling when entering a trance like state while Skanking. Maybe it was the common feeling of togetherness that this festival had over it. Who knows? Frankly, who cares?