We starred at the seemingly innocuous block of upholstery foam, cautiously silent, growing more ill at ease with every passing minute. For we knew that just beneath the soft exterior lay a horror so terrible it dare not be acknowledged, as if acceptance of it would challenge our already teetering sanity. Nevertheless, the terror was about to be freed from its plush prison for without it we could not film our tome of terror thus inducing an apocalyptic shockwave across our known universe. In our party was the producer Jessica, co-writer/actor Matt, and my partner Amanda. The team stood steady, blades poised, waiting on my instruction.
“So how do we do this?” asked Jess.
“Take a piece of foam and remove anything that doesn’t look like a claw,” I replied.
Earlier we had eaten a sacrificial feast of raw fish and rice downed with copious quantities of Dutch vodka. We hoped this meal would please That Which Lies Below and that the spirits would dull our conscious minds, that we may relinquish control so the old ones may enter our bodies and guide our hands. Failing that, at least we’d be totally loaded and filled with false-confidence. Here’s where we netted out.
We contacted all our contacts, friends called friends who called acquaintances, we made offerings of desecrated flesh to those that dwell beyond the stars, yet our cries went unanswered. Oh well, you know what they say, “stare into the void and the void stares back.” Desperate to film, we scoured the internet looking for a small, vulnerable, company to impose upon. This also proved fruitless, but in the process we came across the uncommonly kind people at North Fur FX & Mascots. They suggested that with some upholstery foam and latex we could fashion our own crude creations which would be as equally effective at invoking both fear and laughter as an effort on the part of a professional practicing on the plane of prostheitics. Jason from the company made it sound ridiculously simple like any blabbering idiot could do it. So we figured heck, we’re blabbering idiots, let’s give it a shot. Thanks Jason.
Throughout preproduction we have encountered countless curious souls who are prepared to dash their reputations against the rocks of risen R’lyeh in a futile attempt to break through the calm waters of sanity and embrace the madness of what lies below the surface, to catch even a momentary glimpse of what may be impossible. Yet, for all the eager followers who join our cult of the creative endeavor we still can’t find someone to help us make prosthetics. Surely such subject matter should attract an endless amount of artists engaged in the transformation of the flesh. After all, thanks to 4 Stroke, the creature now exists as a 3D model – for I have seen it with my own eyes! But props, something seemingly simple, has the entire production trapped in nether world. Perhaps the following illustrations, traced directly from Webster’s Necronomicon, were too confounding for puny prop-building minds to comprehend.
Or maybe they’re all just really busy and don’t want to work for free.