Looming Land

This is just a short presentation of the characters of our upcoming interactive book for iPad.

It’s gonna be an original story called ‘Looming Land’ and it’s about four fab friends who decided to change everything in their lives one day with a little help from the fifth one.

Meet them all in the App Store soon.

Aileen the Naughty Alien

One day the day after tomorrow on the outskirts of Looming Land, not far from ramshackle Droidbury Town, surrounded by snowbound ridge of Somersault Hills, a bit north of forsaken Saffron Wharf on the Lake of Million Drops, right above the dancing Hornpipe Forest...

There is an anomalous Aethereal Harrow on the edge of Infinite Dew Field, where our third lyrical hero rejoices in her misfortune. Her name is Aileen and she is the Naughty Alien.

Poem

Just right now
In the young spiral galaxy close,
Very close to a nebula
In your sleepy blue eye
(Objects are always closer
Than they really appear
In the mirror,
On the tip of your curious nose)
Turn on headlights
And fasten lifesaving seat belt –
Naughty Alien goes with the flow,
Good bye!

Tail wagging the comet,
Stars stretch into stripes,
Antimatter is crackling
In hyperdrive’s plugs.
(Solar wind blows strongly,
Inflating the sail,
Starship rushes,
Hot plasma emits from the pipes).
Homeless black hole turns
Into fresh hot donut hole,
Coffee splashes
In Aileen’s mug.

She suddenly swoops down
In a grim country lane
On the fated third planet
From the star called Sun.
(She doesn’t care
What the sly future holds,
Phosphorescent blood’s flowing
Through the onyx veins).
Leave letdown in a vacuum
Off the shell of starship,
And begin laser show,
It is gonna be fun!

A hundred thousand light years
From cozy sweet home
Aileen’s got the loneliest
Feelings in heart.
(There’s nothing kept secret
That won’t come to light,
But she lives for her secret
Under damaged glass dome).
Gamma ray has betrayed,
Atoms go to pieces…
Hurricane of stardust
Will tear her apart.

Sketch

Patterns

Crispin the Trendy Youngster

One day the day after tomorrow on the outskirts of Looming Land, on the right of ramshackle Droidbury Town, surrounded by snowbound ridge of Somersault Hills, a bit north of forsaken Saffron Wharf on the Lake of Million Drops, right above the dancing Hornpipe Forest, very close to anomalous Aethereal Harrow...

There is Infinite Dew Field, where our extraordinary ‘hidden’ lyrical hero walks the dog under the baking sun. His name is Crispin and he is the Trendy Youngster.

Poem

Time is over completely
To the bitter end now,
But the same cotton flowers
Float slowly above.
(After years of sad sighs
Nothing got better
For vain elephant,
Lazy duck, idle cow).
Immersed in gold
Of ripe wheat spikelets,
Trendy Youngster
Is falling in love.

Baking sun bakes
Until golden brown his face.
If you’re lost in the fields,
There’s nowhere to hide.
(All the thoughts melt
And trickle away from the head,
Can you hear an echo?
It prefers empty space!)
Crispin hates maudlin memories
And drives away melancholy,
He just keeps
All inside.

He loves to wear
Iconic brand logos
From top to toe,
Outside of tanned body.
(We’re what we eat,
We’re what we wear.
Otherwise I’m afraid
We’re fake, we’re bogus).
A sky picks bright blue,
A tree picks deep green,
Crispin is more likely
To fix on gaudy.

One field ends in an instant
And another begins.
Chukka boots are too tight,
Deep v-neck tee as well…
(Weary Renny the dog
Always gets underfoot
Sniffing out mole burrows,
And whines, and grins).
They have crossed far and wide
At least five boundless fields.
Crispin goes Southwest,
Renny goes to the smell.

Sketch

Patterns

Nigel the Uptight Dragon

One day the day after tomorrow on the outskirts of Looming Land, between dancing Hornpipe Forest and anomalous Aethereal Harrow on the edge of Infinite Dew Field, a bit north of forsaken Saffron Wharf on the Lake of Million Drops, on the right of ramshackle Droidbury Town...

There is snowbound ridge of Somersault Hills, where our fifth lyrical hero eats snow and peers into white distance. His name is Nigel and he is the Uptight Dragon.

Poem

Sooner or later,
In an hour or maybe never,
Before the Big Bang
Or after the Very Last Day,
(You afraid all your thoughts
Are misguided and naïve,
But you’re reasonable
And pretty clever),
From the tops of the snowbound
Somersault Hills
Uptight Dragon’s
Slip sliding away.

With the frost on eyelashes
And blush on the cheeks,
He’s catching the snowflakes
On sticky snake tongue.
(The eyes is watering
In the gusty north wind,
The snow melts on the lips,
The nose sprang a leak).
Take him up to a warmer place
And heat up the milk,
And sing for Nigel
A lullaby song.

He likes to peer
Into snowy white distance,
Holding the breath,
Rising on tiptoe and sighing.
(The minute hand
Will rotate counterclockwise,
If you cherish your dream
With persistence).
As the distant light
Gives him a wink of the hope
He’s getting rattled
And crying.

Skating on the glacier
With crystal icicles in a claws,
He exhales the spurts of flame
Through his teeth.
(Nigel’s only friend for a moment
Is a dumb snowman,
Even so he’s afraid
Of friend’s sharp biting jaws).
That’s why Uptight Dragon
Doesn’t like an ice cream…
And for him, dear people,
You’re no more than a myth!

Sketch

Patterns

Terrence the Silvan Gaffer

One day the day after tomorrow on the outskirts of Looming Land, right beyond anomalous Aethereal Harrow on the edge of Infinite Dew Field, not far from ramshackle Droidbury Town, surrounded by snowbound ridge of Somersault Hills, a bit north of forsaken Saffron Wharf on the Lake of Million Drops...

There will thrive, dancing tirelessly, Hornpipe Forest, where our first lyrical hero spends his days. His name is Terrence and he is the Silvan Gaffer.

Poem

One of those blond
Lukewarm days,
That began
To so rapidly ending,
(As it usually happens
When infancy’s over
And there’s no other
Possible way),
In dense forest,
Where the trees love to dance,
Silvan Gaffer
Starts bending.

Fragrant juniper,
Hickory, syruping maple
Do the dance steps
Around dazzling glade.
(Bare mystery lurks
In the gloaming thicket,
To reveal it
No one's able).
Via creeping moss,
Mushroom’s bloom and talking acorn
Terrence is going to fade.

Cuckoo sings brand new song
From the hollow in hat,
Time to play evil ape
With the mittens.
(Fossil music wraps forest
Being born by the tapes –
Demagnetized,
Crumbling and sad).
Last sunbeam on the limb
Ebbs away and retreats,
Where shine’s
Always hidden.

Terrence mixes bird voices:
Waxwing’s, nightingale’s…
Sprigs of thyme,
Saffron flowers, gunpowder.
(He learns how to twist
From the roots, wriggling snakes,
And don’t leave any trace
On the trails).
He keeps rustle of wrinkled
Dry last year's leaves,
Teaching silence
Speak louder.

Sketch

Patterns

Walwin the Grumpy Cyborg

One day the day after tomorrow on the outskirts of Looming Land, a bit north of forsaken Saffron Wharf on the Lake of Million Drops, right above the dancing Hornpipe Forest, on the left of anomalous Aethereal Harrow on the edge of Infinite Dew Field, surrounded by snowbound ridge of Somersault Hills...

There is ramshackle Droidbury Town, where our fourth lyrical hero suffers from his futility. His name is Walwin and he is the Grumpy Cyborg.

Poem

When the sand from the clock
Will be scatter,
Squeak on teeth,
Clog the eyes, stick to sole
(Everyone is afraid
To become paranoid,
But not an android.
What does it matter?)
Nobody wants
To know him in this town –
Grumpy Cyborg
Is scented and tall.

He’s made of scrap-metal,
Ice-cold and too rusty,
With chronic CPU ache
And engine oil loss,
(He was born in the basement
Of Cyberdyne Systems
Maybe that’s why
He’s spiteful and overly nasty?)
With limescale on the heart
And bare wires in brain
Walwin likes
Teasing bugs in his OS.

What’s his mission,
Location and serial number?
He’s the last one who left here –
Machine vs man.
(Amongst dull stuffy boxes
Of haunted grey houses,
Cyborg’s wandering slowly
In digital slumber).
Who will come in a dream
When he goes to standby –
Ninja Turtles,
Transformers or Peter Pan?

He would live nearly age
Or about forever,
At least while blue sparks
Feed cheap Chinese chips.
(Everyone got the trembling light
In a troubled mind,
But to keep it
You should to endeavor).
Now please let him rest.
Turn him off! Where’s his button?
Walwin always likes twilight
And adores an eclipse.

Sketch

Patterns

Zoe the Pawky Jellyfish

One day the day after tomorrow on the outskirts of Looming Land, right beyond anomalous Aethereal Harrow on the edge of Infinite Dew Field, not far from ramshackle Droidbury Town, surrounded by snowbound ridge of Somersault Hills, a bit south of dancing Hornpipe Forest...

There will be built forsaken Saffron Wharf on the Lake of Million Drops, where our second lyrical hero drowns her beliefs. Her name is Zoe and she is the Pawky Jellyfish.

Poem

In the days of yore
That gonna get back,
Under fluorescent light
Of the moon,
(While you’re waiting for sunrise
In berth of the cabin
Your ship got lost
And started to wreck).
Between dark layers
Of cold autumn water
Pawky Jellyfish
Swells like balloon.

Seagulls giggle
In pink scale of dawn,
Oyster spreads a smile
From ear to ear.
(Weird fishes got famous
In Worcestershire sauce!
Selfish shellfish shares the joke
With a prawn).
Crying from happiness
In shallow turquoise,
Zoe is laughing
To tears.

She likes watching the glitter
Of dim morning star
Through the ripples
On specular surface.
(She believes she can steal it
And hide in her cave
Full of treasures,
In most beautiful jar).
Lying down on the bottom
Turn off all the lights,
Drown the hope,
Stop being nervous.

Octopus rides the flow
Waving slim tentacles,
Sea owl stares sitting
On seaweed’s branch.
(Like the million teardrops
In salt lake of wide open eye
We’re lonely
But highly identical).
Some are born to learn
How to breathe underwater,
Some are born
To good lunch. 

Sketch

Patterns

Credits

Concept, design and animation
Timid Kiddom

Art Direction
Eugene Borodulin

Illustration
Vladimir Samusenko

Animation
Alexander Rudik

Sound Design and Music
Karim Naser