Steampunk Pilot Girl.

Even a mere sketching captures her exotic beauty.

My personal leave of absence seems to have come at the worst possible time; even as I speak, the rolling storm clouds of War form upon the horizon. The idea that a single Englishman, or even a group of dedicated citizens, could prevent the coming catastrophe with pedantry alone is unfathomable. But even in the midst of despair, dear reader, drifts a glimmering spark of hope. Pedant I must, then pedant I shall.

Today's offering to the God's of Retrofuturism comes direct from the Polycount forums, the first from said website (I was given a rather involuntary tour of the forums' steampunk offerings today by an acquaintance, largely for her amusement) and it became clear it will not be the last. One example in particular stuck with me, through the pointlessly filigreed firearms and insectoid aeroplanes.
I should warn you, before I proceed, that the following images contain an artificial Venus of such beauty and warmth that merely viewing her for the briefest moment may cause the fathers to displace their wedding rings, young boys to experience their first moments of puberty, and give womenfolk everywhere the urge to play upon the flute of Sapho.

Prepare yourself.

Now, you may be wondering how so comely a maiden could possibly invoke my ire. Well, let's begin at the top, and work out way down. Blue beanie, what appear to be swimming goggles, short skirt, rubber arm-bands (presumably, she desires only that the plight of the lower-classes be the subject of a 'true discourse of past' and thus pass into history) blue socks, and what appear to be rubber clogs. Of course.
But before you decide to join this shining example of oddly-bald human perfection at the altar, it might shock you to know that all along she's been a redhead (with a droopy eye, eczema on her chin, and a rash on her chest) and is capable of producing four distinct sounds.


- Anderson A. Armitage IV

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