I decided to base the dog avatar on a video of a real bulldog from the outside world that I found online. He was brown with white accents around the face and neck, one eye spotted brown, jowly but not overly wrinkled, bottom jaw protruding just enough to show two upwards pointing fangs, bracketing a series of little nibblers. Now I just had to make this into an avatar.
So in terms of being a real, functional dog avatar, it was coming along. But it looked atrocious. Its legs swung around like they were on hinges. All of the moving parts looked off, really. The bulldog’s facial expressions, to the extent that it had any, changed instantly. It needed a lot of work.
It didn’t take long for Fido to appear in his dog avatar on my teleportation platform. I stood there, watching him, shifting myself back and forth, anxious. I wanted to know he was OK, but I knew he needed to get his bearings. It was his first time in a body. Everything would be brand new to him, he would need time to adjust.
Fido shuddered and issued a few muffled barks, like he was dreaming. Then, suddenly, his eyes popped open, and he ran forward at maximum speed, right off of the teleporter, and fell to the ground and slid. Most of his legs were pointing in impossible directions, one straight up at the ceiling. He got them spinning again, and he was able to progress forward in fits and starts, up, down, forward, sideways, fall. Then he ran head first into the wall, and let out a squeal.
I should have gone over to him and helped him up, rubbed him, comforted him, but all I could think was: “I cannot believe I built his legs to spin like wheels. This will never work.”
After running into the wall a few more times, Fido managed to get himself turned around, aiming towards me, and then laid himself flat, paws jutting every which way. His face showed massive confusion, adding even more wrinkles to his furrowed countenance. His lower teeth stuck up into the air. He looked betrayed.