Maybe next year
Stephen Sondheim
A dark, stormy night, too hot to think, much too hot to seek out crowds, or feign interest in upcoming birthday parties, is the best time to visit Carnevil.
RaggedyMortis Haystack delivers a detailed, sinister atmosphere in a surprisingly small space, nay-saying the current mantra that you need a whole sim to make your point. Free bits by the likes of Arcadia Asylum and Chicanery Turnbull add to the awesome gruesome.
But if Carnevil exudes quiet cleverness, the quietness itself delivers something disturbing. What happened here, in this empty garden? Signs that might be omens greet the unhappy wanderer. Stains, glowing grass, a shrunken head in the pool. That kind of thing. Add a rubber duck or two, and you've got a metaphor for SL9B. But like, with some class.
Ought there to be clowns? You can't be sure they're not already here, phantasms of grunge existing at a slightly different resolution, just beyond what your viewer can see, a sort of spiritual mesh.
But if Carnevil exudes quiet cleverness, the quietness itself delivers something disturbing. What happened here, in this empty garden? Signs that might be omens greet the unhappy wanderer. Stains, glowing grass, a shrunken head in the pool. That kind of thing. Add a rubber duck or two, and you've got a metaphor for SL9B. But like, with some class.
Ought there to be clowns? You can't be sure they're not already here, phantasms of grunge existing at a slightly different resolution, just beyond what your viewer can see, a sort of spiritual mesh.
Carnevil is SL art at its best: well-crafted, avatar-relevant items curated with imagination. It's a perfect showcase for a commercial venture (including Meat 'n' More in the Haunted Farm next door, and Pinkmares House) that leave you reaching for more, not reaching for Mute.
Wait. Did you hear that?
