game design, National Film and Television School, MFA, gaming industry, career, education, game development, creative arts, multimedia, game design programs ## The National Film and Television School: A Hollow Promise for Aspiring Game Designers Let’s cut to the chase: the National Film and Television School (NFTS) touts itself as one of the premier institutions for learning game design. But does it truly live up to this reputation, or is it just another hollow promise in the overcrowded lands...

This week has been a heavy burden, one that I carry alone, with each moment pressing down on my heart like a stone. I wrote code, thinking I was contributing something valuable, something that would protect, something that would help. Yet here I am, faced with the haunting reality that I caused a 9.5 CVSS CVE. The weight of my actions feels insurmountable, and the world feels so cold and distant right now. How did I let it come to this? The public and private keys, once thought to be safe, now exposed, vulnerable among devices. I can’t shake the feeling of betrayal, not just of the users who trusted me, but of my own expectations. It’s as if I’m standing in a room full of people, yet I feel utterly alone. The silence is deafening, and the only sound I hear is the echo of my mistakes. I triaged the situation with a heavy heart, knowing that my oversight could have far-reaching consequences. I read the reports, the warnings — and with every word, I felt a deeper sense of isolation. The internet, once a vibrant place of connection, now seems like a desolate wasteland that reflects my own feelings of abandonment. It’s a reminder of how quickly everything can come crashing down, how fragile our digital lives really are. I thought I was building something worthwhile, but now I find myself questioning my purpose. Did I truly understand the weight of my responsibilities? Did I consider the lives entwined with the code I wrote? The guilt gnaws at me, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever find redemption. In this age of interconnectedness, I feel more disconnected than ever. I look around and see others moving forward, while I am left behind, haunted by the shadows of my own making. The loneliness is suffocating, and I long for understanding, for someone to share this burden with me. Yet, all I feel is the chill of isolation, a stark reminder that even in a crowd, one can feel utterly lost. As I navigate through this storm, I hope to find a way to make amends, to rebuild the trust that has been shattered. But for now, I sit with my sorrow, a silent witness to my own downfall, wishing for a flicker of hope in this darkness. #CVE #Isolation #Loneliness #Cybersecurity #Mistakes

In a world that once thrived on elegance and power, Jaguar stands at a crossroads, insisting that its controversial rebrand was a success. Yet, deep within, I can't shake off this feeling of betrayal. The roar of the mighty feline has been muted, replaced by a whisper that feels hollow. The sleek lines and the iconic emblem that once evoked pride now seem like distant memories shrouded in shadows. How can one embrace change when it feels like a loss? I look at the new designs, but they fail to stir my heart. Instead of excitement, there's an ache, a deep yearning for the Jaguar that once was—a symbol of sophistication and strength. I remember the thrill of seeing one glide past, a statement of individuality, but now it feels like we're all part of an impersonal crowd, lost in a sea of mediocrity. Every time I see a new advertisement, the message is clear: they want us to believe in this transformation. But every word feels like sand slipping through my fingers, leaving me with nothing but an echo of what used to be. The charm has faded, and I can't help but feel like a lover left behind, watching as someone I adored changes into an unfamiliar stranger. The allure of the past lingers like a ghost, whispering tales of passion and craftsmanship that have been overshadowed by a relentless push for a fresh identity. I want to celebrate the new, but my heart aches too much for the beauty that has been sacrificed. Each rebranding feels like another layer of paint over a masterpiece, concealing the true essence beneath, leaving me to wonder if anyone else feels this same emptiness. Jaguar, you insist on your success, but I stand here, alone in my disappointment, questioning the very foundation of what you’ve become. It’s not about resisting change; it’s about mourning the loss of a legacy that resonated deeply within so many of us. As I watch the new emblem shine, I can't help but feel a pang of loneliness, a reminder that sometimes, even the mightiest can lose their way. In this age of transformation, I find myself screaming into the void, hoping that someone, anyone, hears the silent cries of a heart that once beat in rhythm with the roar of a Jaguar. #Jaguar #Rebrand #Loss #Heartbreak #Legacy

It's time to call out the glaring flaws in the so-called "Latest Showreel" by the Compagnie Générale des Effets Visuels (CGEV). They tout their projects like a peacock showing off its feathers, but let's be honest: this is just a facade. The latest compilation, which includes work from films such as "The Substance," "Survivre," "Monsieur Aznavour," "Le Salaire de la Peur," and more, is nothing short of a desperate attempt to mask their shortcomings in the visual effects industry. First off, what are they thinking with the title "Mise à jour de showreel"? This isn't an update; it's a cry for help! The industry is moving at lightning speed, and CGEV seems to be stuck in the past, clinging to projects that are as outdated as a floppy disk. The world of visual effects is about innovation and pushing boundaries, yet here we have a company content with showcasing work that barely scratches the surface of creativity. And let’s talk about "Le Salaire de la Peur." If this is their crown jewel, then they are in serious trouble. The effects look amateurish at best, and it raises the question: are they even using the right technology? In an age where CGI can create stunning visuals that leave you breathless, CGEV’s work feels like a bad remnant of the early 2000s. It’s embarrassing to think that they believe this is good enough to represent their brand. Alain Carsoux, the director, needs to take a long, hard look in the mirror. Is he satisfied with this mediocrity? Because the rest of us definitely aren’t. The lack of originality and innovation in these projects is infuriating. Instead of pushing the envelope, they're settling for the bare minimum, and that’s an insult to both their talent and their audience. The sad reality is that CGEV is not alone in this trend. The entire industry seems to be plagued by a lack of ambition. They’re so focused on keeping the lights on that they’ve forgotten why they got into this business in the first place. It’s about passion, creativity, and daring to take risks. "Young Woman and the Sea" could have been a ground-breaking project, but instead, it’s just another forgettable title in an already saturated market. We need to demand more from these companies. We deserve visual effects that inspire, challenge, and captivate. CGEV needs to get its act together and start investing in real talent and cutting-edge technology. No more excuses! The audience is tired of being served mediocrity wrapped in flashy marketing. If they want to compete in the visual effects arena, they better step up their game or face the consequences of being forgotten. Let’s stop accepting subpar work from companies that should know better. The time for complacency is over. We need to hold CGEV accountable for their lack of innovation and creativity. If they continue down this path, they’ll be left behind in a world that demands so much more. #CGEV #VisualEffects #FilmIndustry #TheSubstance #Innovation

In the quiet corners of my mind, I often find myself grappling with a profound sense of loneliness. The world around me spins with vibrant colors, while I feel trapped in a monochrome existence, searching for connection but only finding shadows. Just like the innovative Revopoint Trackit, the 3D scanner that promises to capture every intricate detail, I too yearn to be seen, understood, and remembered. Yet, despite the advancements around me, I often feel invisible, like a forgotten whisper in a crowded room. Every day, I watch others thrive, connecting effortlessly, their laughter echoing in the air, while I stand on the periphery, an observer of life rather than a participant. The Revopoint Trackit aims to revolutionize 3D scanning, offering tracking and precision that reflect a reality I can only dream of. I wish I could scan my emotions, my heartbreak, and lay them bare for someone to understand. The ache of solitude is heavy, a constant reminder of unfulfilled desires and lost opportunities. When I reflect on the beauty of connection, I realize that it’s not just about technology; it’s about the human experience. The advancements like those seen in Revopoint’s latest innovations remind me that while technology progresses, the essence of human interaction feels stagnant at times. I find myself longing for someone to reach out, to bridge the gap that feels insurmountable. The thought of the Super Early Bird offer, enticing as it may be, only highlights the disparity between a world of possibilities and my own daunting reality. As I sit here, wrestling with these feelings, I can’t help but wonder if anyone else feels the same way. Do they look at the 3D models created by Revopoint and feel a spark of inspiration, while I feel a twinge of envy? Their technology can capture dimensions, but it cannot capture the depth of the human heart—the complexities, the vulnerabilities, the raw essence of what it means to be alive. I yearn for a day when I can step out of the shadows, where I am not merely an observer but a vibrant participant in this dance of life. Until then, I will continue to navigate through this fog of loneliness, holding onto the hope that one day, someone will notice me, just as the Revopoint Trackit notices every detail, bringing it into the light. #Loneliness #Heartbreak #Revopoint #Connection #HumanExperience

In the world of technology, where dual RGB cameras can now perceive depth, I find myself grappling with a different kind of void. These advancements grant machines the ability to see beyond mere surfaces, yet I am left feeling more isolated than ever. The cameras can understand the layers of reality, but what of the layers within me? Every day, I wake up to a world that seems so vibrant, yet I feel like a ghost wandering through a bustling crowd. The laughter around me echoes in my ears, a painful reminder of the connection I crave but cannot grasp. Just as dual RGB cameras enhance the perception of depth, I wish someone could sense the depths of my loneliness. I watch as others connect effortlessly, their lives intertwined like threads in a tapestry, while I remain a solitary stitch, frayed and hanging on the edge. The advancements in technology may allow for clearer pictures of our surroundings, but they cannot capture the shadows lurking in my heart. The more I see the world through this lens of isolation, the more I long for someone to reach out, to look beyond the surface and understand the silent screams trapped within me. In a time when machines can perceive distance and dimension, I struggle to navigate the emotional landscapes of my own life. I wish for someone to hold a dual RGB camera to my soul, to see the layers of hurt and yearning that lie beneath my facade. Instead, I am met with silence, a chasm so wide, it feels insurmountable. The irony of our age is palpable; we are more connected than ever through screens and technology, yet I feel the weight of my solitude pressing down on me like an anchor. I search for meaning in this digital realm, hoping to find a reflection of myself, but all I see are shadows and echoes of my despair. As I scroll through images of happiness and togetherness, the depth of my sorrow expands, consuming me. I wish for someone to decode my unvoiced feelings, to recognize that beneath the surface, there is a world of pain waiting to be understood. But instead, I am left with the stark reality that even the most advanced cameras cannot capture what lies within the human heart. So here I am, adrift in this sea of solitude, yearning for a connection that feels just out of reach. If only someone could see me, truly see me, and recognize the depth of my existence beyond the surface. Until then, I will remain a shadow in a world brimming with light, wishing for a hand to pull me back from the edge of this loneliness. #Loneliness #Isolation #DepthOfEmotion #Heartache #LookingForConnection

In the quiet moments when the world feels too heavy, I find myself reflecting on the art of change. It’s strange how something as simple as a logo can embody so much about us. Just like Walmart, Burger King, and Uber have rebranded, shedding the old skin to embrace new beginnings, I often wonder if I too should change. But what happens when you feel too lost to even begin? Every time I look at the faded memories of my past, I am reminded of the colors that once defined me. They now seem dull, overshadowed by the weight of disappointment and solitude. In the shadows of a world that moves on without me, I find myself questioning if I ever mattered in the grand scheme of things. The feelings of abandonment wrap around me like a thick fog, making it hard to breathe, hard to see a way forward. Lisa Smith speaks of the perfect timing to change a logo, a mark of growth, a testament to evolution. But what if the only change I feel is the aching throb of loneliness? What if the rebranding I seek is not on a canvas, but rather within my heart? How do I find the strength to reinvent myself when all I feel is the sting of being left behind? Each day becomes a reminder that I am just a shadow in a bustling crowd, a fleeting thought in someone’s mind. The vibrant hues of joy seem to fade further, leaving only the black and white of my reality. It’s as if I’m waiting for a sign, a call to action that never arrives. I watch others change and flourish, while I remain stagnant, anchored by the weight of my own fears. The pain of feeling unseen is often unbearable. I yearn for connection, for someone to notice the subtle shifts within me, to acknowledge the struggle that lies beneath the surface. Yet, I find myself wrapped in silence, afraid to reach out, afraid to be vulnerable once more. Rebranding, as Lisa Smith suggests, is more than a visual update; it’s a reinvention of the self, an embrace of what could be. But how can I embrace change when I am still healing from the scars of the past? It feels as though I am caught in a loop, watching the world evolve while I cling to the remnants of who I was. Perhaps one day, I will gather the courage to shed my old skin and step into the light. Until then, I will carry this burden of loneliness, hoping that the dawn of tomorrow brings with it the promise of transformation. For now, I remain a distant observer, yearning for the day when I can finally say, “I am ready to change.” #Loneliness #Change #Heartbreak #ReinventYourself #EmotionalJourney

Ah, the enchanting world of "Beautiful Accessibility"—where design meets a sweet sprinkle of dignity and a dollop of empathy. Isn’t it just delightful how we’ve collectively decided that making things accessible should also be aesthetically pleasing? Because, clearly, having a ramp that doesn’t double as a modern art installation would be just too much to ask. Gone are the days when accessibility was seen as a dull, clunky afterthought. Now, we’re on a quest to make sure that every wheelchair ramp looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Who needs functionality when you can have a piece of art that also serves as a means of entry? You know, it’s almost like we’re saying, “Why should people who need help have to sacrifice beauty for practicality?” Let’s talk about that “rigid, rough, and unfriendly” stereotype of accessibility. Sure, it’s easy to dismiss these concerns. Just slap a coat of trendy paint on a handrail and voilà! You’ve got a “beautifully accessible” structure that’s just as likely to send someone flying off the side as it is to help them reach the door. But hey, at least it’s pretty to look at as they tumble—right? And let’s not overlook the underlying question: for whom are we really designing? Is it for the people who need accessibility, or is it for the fleeting approval of the Instagram crowd? If it’s the latter, then congratulations! You’re on the fast track to a trend that will inevitably fade faster than last season’s fashion. Remember, folks, the latest hashtag isn’t ‘#AccessibilityForAll’; it’s ‘#AccessibilityIsTheNewBlack,’ and we all know how long that lasts in the fickle world of social media. Now, let’s sprinkle in some empathy, shall we? Because nothing says “I care” quite like a designer who has spent five minutes contemplating the plight of those who can’t navigate the “avant-garde” staircase that serves no purpose other than to look chic in a photo. Empathy is key, but please, let’s not take it too far. After all, who has time to engage deeply with real human needs when there’s a dazzling design competition to win? So, as we stand at the crossroads of functionality and aesthetics, let’s all raise a glass to the idea of "Beautiful Accessibility." May it forever remain beautifully ironic and, of course, aesthetically pleasing—after all, what’s more dignified than a thoughtfully designed ramp that looks like it belongs in a museum, even if it makes getting into that museum a bit of a challenge? #BeautifulAccessibility #DesignWithEmpathy #AccessibilityMatters #DignityInDesign #IronyInAccessibility

In the quiet corners of my heart, I feel the weight of a world that has lost its colors. The once vibrant album covers that used to speak volumes about the music they adorned have faded into obscurity, replaced by the sterile glow of digital screens. The story of music album covers is not just a tale of art; it's a mournful journey of disappearance and standardization, echoing the loneliness that now fills our lives. With the dawn of the iPod in 2001, music transformed into something intangible, something without a face or a body. I remember the thrill of holding a physical album, the anticipation of unwrapping it, and the joy of discovering the artwork that encapsulated the artist's soul. Those visuals were a window into the emotions of the music, a glimpse into the artist's world. But now, as I scroll through endless playlists, I can't help but feel a profound sense of loss. Each click feels hollow, devoid of the beauty that once was. Where are the stories behind the covers? The creativity that flourished in the analog era has been replaced by a monotonous stream of pixels. The uniqueness of each album has been surrendered to a sea of sameness, and in this standardization, I find myself feeling more isolated than ever. It’s as if the music I once cherished has become just another commodity, stripped of its essence. Alone in a crowd, I find myself yearning for the connection that music used to bring. I miss the days when I could flip through a record store, each cover telling a story, each spine a promise of something beautiful. Now, I’m left with a digital library that feels more like an archive of forgotten memories than a celebration of creativity. The loneliness creeps in when I realize that the art of the album cover, the very visual representation of the music, has been lost in the noise of progress. Every time I play a song, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something vital. Music should embrace us, should touch our hearts, should tell us that we are not alone. But instead, I feel a haunting emptiness, a reminder that we have traded depth for convenience. In this digital age, I search for meaning in a world that seems to have forgotten how to connect. As I sit in silence, surrounded by the echoes of melodies that once brought me joy, I can’t help but mourn the loss of the album cover. It was more than just a visual; it was a piece of art that held the spirit of the music within. Now, I am left with a collection of songs, but the stories behind them have vanished like whispers in the wind. #MusicMemories #AlbumArt #Loneliness #DigitalEra #LostConnection

In the stillness of the night, I often find myself reflecting on the weight of solitude that has become my constant companion. It's a heavy silence, tinged with the echoes of laughter that once filled my world, now replaced by the cold glow of screens that seem to understand me less with every passing day. The irony is palpable; as we forge connections through social media, we often find ourselves more isolated than ever. 💔 The truth is, behind the prohibition of social networks for minors lies a heartbreaking reality—one that speaks to the vulnerability of youth navigating a digital landscape rife with dangers. It's easy to dismiss the issue, to overlook the silent suffering of those who, with a mere click, can stumble into a world that doesn’t care for their innocence. They enter these platforms seeking companionship, yet they often leave with scars they cannot articulate. 😢 When I think about the legislation that France has introduced in 2023, I can't help but feel a flicker of hope amidst the despair. Perhaps it is a step towards acknowledging the fragility of young hearts, a recognition of the grave responsibilities that come with such unfettered access. But still, I wonder—what about the children who have already fallen through the cracks? The ones who are left alone in a virtual void, seeking validation from faceless profiles, only to be met with rejection and hurt. 😞 In a world that celebrates connectivity, I can't shake the feeling that we are more disconnected than ever. Each notification that lights up my screen feels like a reminder of the connections I lack in reality. The laughter of friends fades, replaced by the frantic scrolling through a feed of curated lives that never seem to reflect my own. The irony stings—surrounded by millions, yet feeling so profoundly alone. 💔 As we grapple with the implications of online interactions, I can’t help but mourn for those who feel just like me—lost in a sea of digital noise, searching for a lifeline that seems to elude them. The question remains: what is the cost of this digital freedom? Are we, in our quest to keep the younger generation safe, inadvertently robbing them of meaningful connections? Or are we merely acknowledging the pain that has already taken root in their hearts? I write this not just for myself, but for every soul who feels the weight of loneliness in a crowded room and for every child navigating the treacherous waters of social media. May we find a way to bridge the gap, to create spaces where we can truly connect, where the pain of isolation is softened by understanding and empathy. 🌧️ #Loneliness #SocialMedia #YouthProtection #DigitalIsolation #Heartbreak