Silverwolf Designs

Doug Walks to the Beach.mp3
[08/26/08 3:12]

This was the third and final demo I put together using eJay's Dance 7. There were a couple things I really enjoyed while using the program, but the drawbacks were really starting to bug me. All 53 of the [hundreds of] sounds/loops I used came with the program, so I don't feel right saying this is my tune... however, I definitely enjoyed putting it together, and learned a lot while doing it.

The levels junk out at a couple spots, but this was back when I literally knew nothing about setting such things. I still know nothing, but it's not quite as literal now. ;)

The tune loosely follows one of my core characters, Doug... as he walks to the beach.

....

We start out at "Casa del Dude" as Doug is preparing to walk down to his special stretch of sand on the beach. This tune kinda merges all his past walks, with and without random friends laughing and tagging along, into one continuous string of clipped memories as the most-present dude packs his gear, takes a smirking breath, laughs, and steps through the door.

The sound of the surf is near as Doug steps onto the landing and peers at the world around him. Doug's a surfer/slacker/club-going college-aged dumbass... with a heart of gold. His mind is used to wandering down the other side of the street aaaaaaaand wot's this? Eye-candy spotted crossing said street. He stops and watches.

...and suddenly gets the munchies. Luckily, he always gets the munchies around this spot... and there just so happens to be a convenience store one of his buddies works at just up the block. He opens the door and *frost* is hit with the aaaaawesome air conditioning. The store is a wonder of snackages, candy bars, chips, soda, beer, chips, beer, hotdogs, brain-freezies, and OMG chips!

The dude finally takes his picks up to the counter and stares at his friend slouching at the till... who is staring at his odd assortment of goodies... and is TOTALLY down for joining him for a swim when he can get someone to cover the rest of his shift... which is the usual routine for the slacker-type friend o' Doug's. They do the obligatory, celebratory Dude-Dance... a dance many people know, but very few know, you know? Duuuuuuude.

But the dude needs to get going and his friend shouts out that they're all going dancing that night. Doug runs off, saying he'll be there.

Once outside, the surfer-pup starts running... feeling the crashing waves in his chest. Talk of the dance club sends his mind racing with imagery of flashing lights and dark shapes all moving as one. The dance floor carries his heart with the same pound of the surf... and the street suddenly takes on a surreal, dark neon quality as he finally arrives at the beach.

Tonight... is gonna rock, he thinks, as he spots his favorite sandy seat beneath a twisted scrub of a tree, weathered by decades of salty, sandy sea breezes. Doug approaches with a familiar, lazy gryn... pulls out his beach towel, flattens it out, sits his rump down, grabs a beer and some chips, and lets his eyes drift out beyond the horizon.

Dude.