The Dirt-Walled Hovel of the Pretentious Artist
This is where the Pretentious Artist lives.
He also buys rat whiskers for 50 meat apiece. If you have any of them, the message "Ooh, is that a rat whisker? I use those to repair my paintbrushes. I'll give you 50 Meat each for them..." will appear, in addition to the one above.
Ah, but your clothing is so bland. Please -- give me something to work with...
Ah! 8-bit Finery at its 8-bit finest! What adventures you must've had! Accept this painting.
Madness. It's all madness. It's weird, and I don't like it, so it's bad. Here.
I say, what a fascinating collection of vintage armor! Ah, for the days when men were men, women were women, and the latest advancement in protective clothing was a vest made of pig-iron.
Ah, the majestic evergreen, slaughtered in its prime to be gaudily decorated in an effort to amuse selfish, greedy children. Deck the halls, indeed.
Oh, joy. Arrrbor Day. It's a holiday that's far too new to be retro, too trendy to be indie, and too bland to be enjoyed ironically. I mean, it's a holiday about trees, for crying out loud. What do you want me to do, paint you some happy little trees?
Well, I suppose I could do that, if I added a nigh-undetectable undercurrent of blistering irony.
Black. Like my soul. I can work with this.
Hurrying, buzzing, a single mind between them, mindlessly consuming. How like our society is a hive of bees. Disgusting.
Black, like the pain in my soul. Black, like the tar in my lungs. Black. Perfect!
Oh, I see you've spent some time in Hey Deze. As a cautiously seeking agnostic, I'm not sure I believe in Hey Deze, even though people go there all the time and bring back souvenirs.
I'll try and capture some of my internal cognitive dissonance in your tattoo.
Mercenary. You care about nothing but Meat? Meat it is, then.
Bows! This painting shall be a profound statement against the commercialization of Crimbo. Either that or just a picture of some Crimbo lights.
Ah! Your outfit! The angles, the planes, the basic geometric shapes! I never dreamed the Cubist movement would branch out into fashion! Please, allow me to paint something for you.
Ugh. Those freakin' guys. I can't tell you how glad I was when they finally left this continent.
A Bugbear costume! What a delight to commit to canvas! Voila!
How appropriate, that you would dress like a toilet.
Oh. I suppose you're going to criticize me for not "supporting" you. Here. You can wave it like a flag as you slaughter the innocent.
Machines, machines, machines. What has happened to the world, that we allow machines to work, think, and feel for us? I will paint you a quick portrait, but then I have to vacuum.
Your... eyes. What are you seeing? Can you show me?
Ah, yes, you have some gear made out of double-ice. I was into double-ice years ago, and it was totally cool, but now the scene's kind of ruined since everyone knows about it.
Still, it's cool enough to chill even the warmest depths of the human heart. I shall attempt to capture that in my design.
The cold, uncaring Sea, and its bestial occupants. It's really no different than anywhere else.
Crimbo! Oh, delightful Crimbo! What else could bring back the idyllic memories of childhood so poignantly. This painting shall be as heartwarming as it is thought-provoking.
Ah, a biomechanical menace. How suitable a metaphor for the corruptive influences of modern society. Sinister, yet... somehow sensual.
When are you people going to grow up? Toy robots? At your age? It's embarrassing. You should be reading deep, insightful literature about the human condition, and watching boring black and white movies that don't make any sense.
Cursed. Don't talk to me about cursed. You think rotting limbs hurt? Nothing. Nothing compared to the pain in my soul. Take this. I don't want it anymore.
That is... What is that? What is this, this, here, in my mind? A symbol, written in burning blood. I... Get it out. Get it out!
Ugh. The worst artists always get the most recognition. Populist dreck.
Ah, your garments suggest that you are scary as hell, like a hobo who was recently killed and buried in a cemetery where things come back to life, only they come back evil, because the soil of a man's heart is stonier, or some such. I shall try to capture that truth in my painting, once my hands stop shaking.
Such works, those tiny claws on this weak flesh. Monuments of destruction.
Ah, the haunting spectre. I am... all too familiar with its hypnotic allure.
Mustn't sleep. Must paint. Not much time left. So much to do. Mustn't sleep.
Death, horror, blunt trauma. It's always the same with you Adventurers. You're like... macabre sheep.
That's more like it. If you're going to be a murderer, at least be an elegant murderer -- pay some attention to your craft!
Nature, red in tooth and claw. How like them we are. Bestial, disgusting.
Every injury is a harbinger of worse. The scratch an infection, the bite a disease. Pain begets pain begets pain.
Ah, I see you're wearing the finery of the Dwarves of Mt. McLargehuge. Allow me to provide some embellishment... I don't actually know Dwarvish, but I expect I can approximate it from old take-out menus I've seen.
What's the matter? Can't find any innocent civilians to blow up? Here. Take this painting. I'll paint another copy later to burn in protest.
Oh, so you're wearing a... er... what is that, exactly? It's like nothing I've ever seen before -- so I'll paint like I've never painted before! And no, I don't mean 'as if this were the first time I've ever painted.'
Ah! I see you've been riding the mindways! The brilliant, scintillating pathways of neurons, the energies of inspiration! Hold still one moment while I bask in the fires of creativity... ahhh... okay, I'm done. Here, let me paint you something to commemorate the occasion.
Bundled up from the cold, eh? Please, allow me to capture this eXtremely important moment in a painting...
Please, no, I'll get you your money, I sw... wait, you're that Adventurer.
Ah, the gentle beauty and poise of the hippy. Behold!
The earth. It is there from whence we come, and there to which we will all one day return. It is pure. Eternal. I will endeavor to make my work as pure and eternal.
Frat Boy, eh? Well, a deal is a deal. Here's your painting.
Drunken brawling. How typical. I'd defecate on a canvas, but I don't want to waste either material. Begone.
Ah, the native garb of the Northern barbarian tribes! Such a gorgeous example of traditional craftsmanship! Allow me to commemorate this with a painting in the native style. I would use native tools as well, but I'm afraid I'm out of seal blood.
Oh, great. A Furry. Enjoy your painting, pervert.
Tch. If you're trying to be ironic, then I believe you've misunderstood the concept.
Such an upstanding person you are, taking what those undereducated and overpaid fools throw away every day and turning it into fine clothing! Here, accept this fine painting of a symbol which represents your commitment to society!
No matter how back in time you go, it's still just bullies everywhere you look.
The Gnauga -- the toughest of creatures. I will paint a portrait that shows the softness hidden behind the tough exterior.
Ah, the majestic hula girl. So understated, so underappreci-- hey, is that plastic oyster grass! Ack! Here, if I give you this painting, will you leave before you get that stuff everywhere? It's so hard to get out of the dirt walls in here, you know.
The spectre of Death. How it haunts us all. But I... I shall live on forever, in my great masterpieces such as this one!
Hatred. What do you know of it. How can you... oh.
Oh, so you've moved on to the industrialized pillaging of the environment! All hail the march of progress!
Ah, you are dressed as Hodgman, the king of the hobos! He is such an amazing post-modern purveyor of absurdist humor! No, I don't think he's just a crazy hobo -- he's a crazy genius hobo.
A Ninja is You, I see. I shall capture your essence with skill and gusto.
Typical. You give an Adventurer enough clay to sculpt anything, and he sculpts himself.
Ah, your garments suggest that your heart is cold and empty, like that of a cold and empty hobo sleeping in a cold and empty vacant lot. I shall do my best to capture your frigid nothingness, provided you don't ask me for any spare change.
Your attire. It reminds me of that one night I spent in Bangkok, all those years ago. The world was my oyster!
The brute strength and questionable hygiene of the Knob Goblin Elite Guard. What an imposing figure your portrait shall cut!
Ah, the curious combination of attraction and disgust embodied by the Knob Goblin Harem Girl. What a beautiful and important painting this shall be!
Do my eyes deceive me? All these mystical artifacts of the Brotherhood of Turtle Tamers, assembled into a single outfit? Please, allow me to immortalize this moment!
To see so many ancient artifacts of the Masters of Groove worn by a single individual is truly inspirational! Please allow me to immortalize this momentous occasion!
The ancient mystical artifacts of the Accordion Thieves are so shrouded in mystery, it is a major event to set eyes upon even a single one of them, let alone four! Please, I must commemorate this moment!
Amazing! So many ancient artifacts of the ancient Pastamancers, together in a single glorious outfit! I must commemorate this event!
I am not easily astonished, but to see so many ancient artifacts of the Saucerors together in one place is awe-inspiring! Come over here into the light, so that I might immortalize this occasion.
Ah! The ancient artifacts of the Seal Clubber, incorporated into a single glorious outfit! You simply must allow me to commemorate this for posterity!
Ah, the Moonthril of the moon-bound elves. I know all about them, of course. I knew when everyone else was still talking about Yetis attacking Valhalla.
I much preferred it when they were up there alone, mutating and slowly dying. That's the kind of pain a true artist can share and appreciate. I'll try to channel that into this tattoo.
More violence. How creative of you.
Academics. Pfft. What's the use of understanding things if you refuse to understand anything real.
Ah, the dedication and integrity of the Dwarven Miner. I'll need lots of black paint for this...
You see? You see what science has wrought? The loss of our essential humanity. Oh, our humanity!
Oil. On the one hand, it destroys the world. On the other hand, it allows us to experience the glorious agony of watching the world be destroyed.
Ah, the stoic stoicity of our stoic neighbors to the north. I shall paint one of their most enduring symbols. Never mind that they only really have one enduring symbol.
A vacation. How I wish I even remembered the meaning of the word. My life is torment.
What is that? Oh, I see. That's a thing you use when you have a job. I wouldn't know about a thing like that.
Papier-mâché! When we are young and starving, we make what we must with what we have.
I shall return to my roots. Primitive. Cheap. Authentic. Real.
Ah, the finery of the ancient Pork Elves! Such detailed craftsmanship, such grace and artistry!
Ah, I see you're a proud supporter of Radio KoL! While I don't listen to the station myself -- they play bands you've heard of, and I only listen to bands you've never heard of -- I appreciate their scrappy, do-it-yourself attitude. I shall try to capture that indie spirit in my design.
Ah, your garments suggest that your brain is fevered and hot, like a fevered, hot hobo sleeping too close to a fevered, hot trash can fire. I am inspired to paint the hot and feverish images that would sear such a hobo's brains.
Radio! What a glorious invention. It shall inspire me to works of high concept -- I shall paint using not color, but sound!
Well, I guess I only have one option.
Only the lonely, indeed! You're a legend! An icon! Let me commit you to canvas.
Your outfit perfectly blends the whimsy of a child's imagination with the harsh realities of life for the noble working sailor. The juxtaposition shall make beautiful tragic art.
That is... disgusting. Vile. And yet... intriguing. Perhaps I can... capture it. Yes! Yes!
Is it 4:20 already? Daylight is wasting, and I've got so much art to share with the world!
The frigid emptiness of life. The cold grip of loneliness. My hovel, which is freezing because I can't afford to pay my heating bill...
Great. As if there isn't enough annoying crap on this planet, you've got to bring some in from outside?
Well, at the very least I can appreciate your desire to remain underground.
You're a superstar, that's what you are! Allow me to capture this fact on canvas.
A samurai! As noble and skillful as it is oppressive and paternalistic. A paradox. A contradiction. An inspiration!
Swashbucklery! What a grand theme for what will undoubtedly be a grand painting!
Polyester? Come on. That's not even retro-cool anymore. You guys will just never get it.
Duct tape, eh? Clever! I shall glorify the substance, and its many uses, by immortalizing it as art!
Ah, your garments suggest that you're the kind of hobo who hides in the bushes and makes furtive rustling noises as women walk by. I'm not sure why you wish to give that impression, but art pursues a higher calling. Moral judgment is so jejune, don't you think?
Nothing embodies the sheer terror and unpleasantness of childhood so much as the Clown. The Everyman shall see this painting and weep!
Ah, the noble towel! Paragon of versitility and comfort! I shall paint your portrait on terrycloth to commemorate it.
All we are is... bones in the wind.
Time. It heals all wounds, they say, but I have yet to verify that. Sigh. If I were truly inspired, this would be melting on a branch, or something, but I'm not in a surrealist mood right now. Here you go.
Ah, I see you're enough of a badass that you've acquired the complete set of transparent finery!
While I don't suffer from such mundane and common impulses like modesty or decency, I will be able to capture the essence of your outfit better if you go stand behind that waist-high bush.
Tropical Crimbo. I'm not sure whether to berate you for your crass commercialism, or for your sloth. I shall paint a portrait that expresses both!
Ah, I thought I heard some bad-ass clanking coming my way. Clearly, you are not only too metal for one hand, but too metal for one equipment slot.
I shall try to capture your stainless steel essence without giving in to cheap irony, or terrible puns.
Ah, yes, the ongoing saga of Uncle Crimbo. Have you noticed how it mirrors the birth, death, and rebirth of the traditional Messianic quest, as well as embodying deep echoes of traditional hero and coming-of-age quests?
Or have you noticed that it appears to be an ongoing metaphor of the struggle between an artist and the plebeians who don't appreciate his art? Now, that's a struggle with which I can relate.
Ah, you have clothed yourself in the bark of undead trees! I shall use them as a metaphor for the howling emptiness of human existence, and the heartbreak of Dutch Elm Disease.
Ah, your garments suggest that your soul is decayed and rotting -- or at least that something is decaying and rotting. You do look and smell like a hobo who has slept in a dumpster for a week. I will try to capture that essence. No, don't come any closer, I can see you just fine.
More violence! More! Destroy everything!
Ah, the futility of war. Man's inner struggle against both it and his own violent nature. Pop art it is.
Ah, the usually violent bear, juxtaposed ironically with... nope. More violence.
Ah, childhood. Where we first learn to create art, and where we first learn to hate our critics.
Oh. If we're going with a 1970s aesthetic I suppose I'll make you a portrait out of macramé. Enjoy your disco or whatever.
Insufferable, your focus on your... husk. Pointless. Vain. Please leave now.
Ah, the majestic wumpus, long ago hunted into extinction by profiteers and adrenaline junkies. Here, allow me to commemorate what a mighty murd-- I mean warrior you are.
Who's there? Seriously. Is somebody there? Hello?
The splendor of Yendor! It renders me aloft to the pinnacle of creativity!
- The Artist's hovel had the following look before October 6, 2010.
- The Artist is completely missing during a Zombie Slayer run -- no icon is shown in the Wrong Side of the Tracks and trying to use URL manipulation to visit him just sends you back to the tracks with no message.
- Prior to an unknown point, during a Zombie Slayer run, the Artist was not at home:
- The Pretentious Artist's dirt-walled hovel is empty, except for all the red paint splashed around the place.
- The Star Garb message may be a reference to the lyrics of John Lennon's "Instant Karma!" ("A super star / Well, right you are"), Pras' "Ghetto Supastar" ("Ghetto supastar that is what you are"), or Madonna's "Vogue" ("You're a superstar, yes, that's what you are").
- The Time Trappings message is a reference to the 1931 painting The Persistence of Memory, the most famous work of surrealist painter Salvador Dalí.
- The Mutant Couture message is probably a reference to the Herbert Morrison phrase "Oh, the humanity," which has now become a satirical way to ridicule, diminish, and trivialize deep, emotional feelings.
- The Knight's Armor message is a reference to the song "One Night in Bangkok", from the musical Chess ("One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster").
- The Arrrbor Day Apparrrrrel message includes the line "painting happy little trees", which is probably a reference to the painter Bob Ross.
- The Smoked Pottery message is a reference to 420 and smoking marijuana.
- The Thousandth Birthday Suit message is a reference to the Kansas song "Dust in the Wind".
- The Pretentious Artist is one of two KoL NPCs that are based on real people, the other being Doc Galaktik. The Artist is one of the T-shirts models in the Store of Loathing; he is wearing the "Minimalist Sword and Martini Guy Shirt".