Alan Moore’s Levitz Grid for all 12 issues of Big Numbers, continued on the next double page spread! Illustration from „Alan Moore: Storyteller“ by Gary Spencer Millidge.
Paul Levitz probably thought about what a comic book writer does more than any of his contemporaries, or mine, and during his dozen-plus-years stint as writer of The Legion of Super-Heroes, systematized what his predecessors did haphazardly, if at all. Then, as an aid to his own work, he created three versions of the Levitz Grid  Basically, the procedure is this: The writer has two, three, or even four plots going at once. The main plot—call it Plot A—occupies most of the pages and the characters‘ energies. The secondary plot—Plot B—functions as a subplot. Plot C and Plot D, if any, are given minimum space and attention—a few panels. As Plot A concludes, Plot B is „promoted“; it becomes Plot A, and Plot C becomes Plot B, and so forth. Thus, there is a constant upward plot progression; each plot develops in interest and complexity as the year’s issues appear.
Additionally check out The Levitz Paradigm: „The best imitation of life possible in a work of fiction“
[T]he various plotlines as they progress through 30 issues of Fantastic Four.
In By Balloon to the Sahara, you’re in a balloon and are presented with a choice on the very first page. Storm clouds are on the horizon. Choice 1: “If you act now, you can release gas from the balloon and land before the storm overtakes you.” Choice 2: “Perhaps the storm will pass quickly. Maybe you can ride it out.” That’s just the beginning, since this book has the most decision points—48—of the series.
Das Kulturelle Gedächtnis, verstanden als generationenübergreifende, interaktionslose Kommunikation über aufgezeichnete kulturelle Äußerungen (Text, Musik, Malerei etc.), kann nur dann dauerhaft, nachvollziehbar und zuverlässig funktionieren, wenn der Kommunikationsfluss durch Gedächtnisinstitutionen organisiert wird. Gedächtnisinstitutionen pflegen das Kulturelle Gedächtnis durch den Aufbau eines Bestandes kultureller Äußerungen, ihre Bewahrung und Vermittlung an gegenwärtige und zukünftige Nutzer. Der Aufbau einer Sammlung entspringt im Analogen einer Idee, folgt einem Plan, entwickelt sich in der Geschichte, wird von Generation zu Generation weitergebaut, ist ortsgebunden, strukturiert und eingehegt. Mit anderen Worten: ermöglicht kulturelle Nachhaltigkeit. Nur, wenn sich kulturelle Nachhaltigkeit auch für über digitale Medien kommunizierte kulturelle Äußerungen gewährleisten lässt, kann auch von einem Funktionieren des Kulturellen Gedächtnisses im Digitalen gesprochen werden. Hierauf sind die digitalen Geisteswissenschaften angewiesen um nachhaltig Innovation und neues Wissen hervorbringen zu können!
We present an approach that takes multiple videos captured by social cameras—cameras that are carried or worn by members of the group involved in an activity—and produces a coherent „cut“ video of the activity. Footage from social cameras contains an intimate, personalized view that reflects the part of an event that was of importance to the camera operator. We leverage the insight that social cameras share the focus of attention of the people carrying (or wearing) them. We use this insight to determine where the important „content“ in a scene is taking place, and use it in conjunction with cinematographic guidelines to select which cameras to cut to and to determine the timing of those cuts. A trellis graph formulation is used to optimize an objective function that maximizes coverage of the important content in the scene, while respecting cinematographic guidelines such as the 180-degree rule and avoiding jump cuts. We demonstrate cuts of the videos in various styles and lengths for a number of scenarios, including sports games, street performance, family activities, and social get-togethers. We evaluate our results through an in-depth analysis of the cuts in the resulting videos and through comparison with videos produced by a professional editor and existing commercial solutions.
Logan and how it relates to established genre structures while also offering responses to „too well-known“ genre patterns.
[..] [G]ames are the aesthetic form of everyday objects. Of ordinary life. Take a ball and a field: you get soccer. Take property-based wealth and the Depression: you get Monopoly. Take patterns of four contiguous squares and gravity: you get Tetris. Take ray tracing and reverse it to track projectiles: you get Doom. Games show players the unseen uses of ordinary materials.
[…] The true accomplishment of What Remains of Edith Finch is that it invites players to abandon the dream of interactive storytelling at last. […] To dream of the Holodeck is just to dream a complicated dream of the novel. If there is a future of games, let alone a future in which they discover their potential as a defining medium of an era, it will be one in which games abandon the dream of becoming narrative media and pursue the one they are already so good at: taking the tidy, ordinary world apart and putting it back together again in surprising, ghastly new ways.
One of the most immersive and rarefied experiences in the history of cinema, Andrei Tarkovsky’s STALKER embarks on a metaphysical journey through an enigmatic post-apocalyptic landscape. A hired guide – the „Stalker“ of the title – leads a writer and a scientist into the heart of the Zone, the restricted site of a long-ago disaster, where the three men eventually zero in on the Room, a place rumored to fulfill one’s most deeply held desires. Adapting a science-fiction novel by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, and making what would be his final Soviet feature, Tarkovsky created a challenging and visually stunning work, his painstaking attention to material detail and sense of organic atmosphere further enriched by this vivid new restoration. At once a religious allegory, a reflection of contemporary political anxieties, and a meditation on film itself-among many other interpretations – Stalker envelops the viewer by opening up a multitude of possible meanings. Restored by Mosfilm from a 2k scan of the original negative.
Tommy Westphall was an austistic child on the TV series St Elsewhere who, it was revealed in the closing moments of the final episode of that series, had dreamt the entire run of the show. […] St Elsewhere has direct connections to twelve other television series – many of them direct crossovers of character to and from the series. Others make mention of specific parts of the St Elsewhere fictional universe, placing them within the same fictional sphere.