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About Digital Art / Professional Core Member Steve ArgyleMale/United States Groups :iconspheres-of-phyrexia: Spheres-Of-Phyrexia
All Will Be One.
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Deviant for 11 Years
2 Month Core Membership
Statistics 181 Deviations 1,052 Comments 593,150 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Terminator Genisys: Fall of Skynet by SteveArgyle Terminator Genisys: Fall of Skynet :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 251 15 Terminator Genisys : Rise of the Resistance by SteveArgyle Terminator Genisys : Rise of the Resistance :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 156 4 Kaine, the Bane of Humans by SteveArgyle Kaine, the Bane of Humans :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 398 9 Angelica, The Light of Logres by SteveArgyle Angelica, The Light of Logres :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 285 8 Christine Sprankle cosplay angel token for charity by SteveArgyle Christine Sprankle cosplay angel token for charity :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 134 7 Tigri Drakkor, Kitten Khan of Kiutopia by SteveArgyle Tigri Drakkor, Kitten Khan of Kiutopia :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 274 9 Titanius Fuzzwuzzlewing, Frolicksome Dracofeline by SteveArgyle Titanius Fuzzwuzzlewing, Frolicksome Dracofeline :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 307 16 Aurum, Gen Con 50 Golden Dragon by SteveArgyle Aurum, Gen Con 50 Golden Dragon :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 540 23 Riddleform by SteveArgyle Riddleform :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 485 31 Soul-Scar Mage by SteveArgyle Soul-Scar Mage :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 364 10 Angel token, Patreon Exclusive Pirate Edition by SteveArgyle Angel token, Patreon Exclusive Pirate Edition :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 108 9 Pinklecheeks Von Mauvebottom by SteveArgyle Pinklecheeks Von Mauvebottom :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 109 9 Patreon Custom Rewards Feb2017 by SteveArgyle Patreon Custom Rewards Feb2017 :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 72 5 Servo - Patreon exclusive edition by SteveArgyle Servo - Patreon exclusive edition :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 98 2 Servo by SteveArgyle Servo :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 95 7 Devil Token by SteveArgyle Devil Token :iconsteveargyle:SteveArgyle 180 6


Terminator Genisys: Fall of Skynet

Terminator Genisys: Fall of Skynet

The expansion to Rise of the Resistance, available as a reward bundle if you help us kickstart this awesome game!

So cool to paint a T-3000!…

Christine Sprankle cosplay angel token for charity
Celebrate and nurture creativity everywhere you see it.

I'm very fortunate to be part of very supportive communities.  The artists that I've known are supernaturally positive people, warmly sharing their time, skills, and friendship.  (Also snacks.  And occasionally whatever cold/flu the convention we're at is an incubator for.  That's a gift with no return receipt.)  The gaming community has cheered me on since the very beginning, inflating my ego to the rock star standard that keeps me going long after any sane or safe person would.  You folks are the awesomest!

Being a creator - whether it's art, story, music, performance, or crafting planets from the bones of dead gods - takes work, patience, and a kind of emotional fortitude that can withstand the bites and stings of an ever-spawning swarm of critics.  Including the insidious, persistent, most poisonous of them all: ourselves.

I doubt many of us make it very far without friends, family, and eventually fans, to stand behind us and chant encouragement and praises we may or may not deserve.  (Miss Manners says it is courtesy to refrain from all flatulation while praise-chanting is happening behind you.)

We create so we can share what we love.  Nobody says "I want to be an artist/writer/actor/cosplayer/cheese-sculptor because I know that's the fast-track to riches, glory, and cosmic powers to re-write the universe to suit my whims!"  We create because we want to be part of those things that have enriched our experience.  ...Maybe just a little hope of cosmic powers.  

Sharing our creations leaves us exposed to the world.  It's strange, because there's such an imbalance of the impact between positive and negative feedback.  One bad experience outweighs hundreds of good ones.  

I've had countless great experiences with fans at conventions.  But I remember every single bad one.  Whether it was them or me.  I still feel guilty about not signing a fella's cards at a con five years ago.  I was actually sitting in a taxi, markers and everything packed in my luggage and in the trunk, already late for my flight, and a guy ran out and dropped his backpack on the curb and started rummaging through it with a "hey, don't leave yet, I've just got a few cards I need signed, and your line was too long."

I told him no, and I still feel bad about it.  I know that's it's totally reasonable to not miss a flight for that.  And it probably didn't make all that big of a difference to that guy.  But I can't help but think "what if?"  What if a good experience with an artist was the nudge he needed to start on some fantastic journey of his own?  What if I just snuffed out someone's creative spark by not taking the time?

Anyway, I'm going off on a tangent there.  Point is: I should really hire an editor.  Wait, no, that's not it.  The point is that creativity is fragile, and requires nurturing.  I've benefited so much from encouraging people and communities.  I want to be one of those supportive people for other creators.

So that's what this is.  This is a token to represent and remind that we should celebrate creativity.  We should participate in whatever flavor of "makin' stuff" we enjoy, and we should encourage others to join us.  And we should embrace and appreciate that support from others.


Oh right, details on how to get some!  This is a gift to all my Patrons as a bonus when I release the Cat Dragon.  It is also available through Channel Fireball, with proceeds going to the ASPCA…


For extra credit: Try to figure out how many of Christine's cosplays are smooshed together in this one painting!



Steve Argyle
Artist | Professional | Digital Art
United States
NOTE: No notes! In my supreme big-shot-edness, I get too many messages to juggle inboxes for a billion online galleries.

All inquiries, praise, and blackmail demands should be sent through my website contact page: It's cozier there anyhow.

It wouldn't hurt to read my FAQ first. I've probably already got an answer to your question. I'm sure that if you tried, you could come up with something I haven't heard before. But it's not easy.

If you're averse to reading my FAQ, which is just tragic, here are quick answers to the most frequent DA questions:

Everything in my galleries is wholly owned or licensed. (Specifics are in the descriptions for each image.) So none of it is available for stock, derivative work, personal projects, to burn into toast, or anything else. No matter how just-for-fun, not-for-profit it may be. It's not my call. I've got some litigious clientele.

I am not available for private commissions at this time.

No, I do not put my pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else. (That would mean I'd be wearing pants.)

Auckland, NZ 2015 - Day One

Journal Entry: Mon May 11, 2015, 6:03 PM

Day 1 – Getting the hell to the other side of the planet – the (technically) three day journey.

The awkward wrestle of transporting our chimeric towers of luggage has become a familiar choreography.  A cantankerous jig of squeaking wheels, clanks, clunks, and the occasional profane outburst.

Checking in to our flight, we are surprise ambushed by a monster so common it needs be in no Dungeons & Dragons manual.  Perhaps the most sinister of their genus, the red-tape viper, (technically an elemental,) has many natural nesting grounds, preferring dreary cubicles, but has also become an invasive species of the wilds of the internet as well.  It paralyses its prey with a long tail of paperwork, and has two sets of venomous fangs, colloquially referred to as their fees, and their more poisonous penalties.

This particular species we had not encountered previously, despite the great deal of time we’ve spent navigating through its preferred territory.  But we should have known.  We were, after all, travelling through Australia, land of everything-here-kills-anything.  The Temporary Visa Even Though You’re Just On A Connecting Flight Sidewinding Red-Tape Viper struck as soon as we presented our passports at check in, and though the bite was a small $40, the paralysis a brief forty five minutes, we started our journey with the lesson we needed to be wary in this new land.

I have no idea how people survived long-haul flights before there were prolific electronic devices, and video players in the back of every seat.  I can only assume that every single passenger on every single long-haul flight in those dark ages would stop by the duty-free store before their flight.  Selecting a bottle of their preferred 80-proof way to wash down the fistful of pills they’d talked their doctor into prescribing for “nerves” and/or “back pain.”

Personally, I use the time to watch bad movies that I secretly wanted to see, but had to wait for the excuse of “Well, I ran out of everything in their ‘Critically Acclaimed’ section.  Therefore ‘the Hangover’ trilogy was all that stood between an uneventful flight, and an emergency landing to expel and probably arrest me after what happens when I get bored!”

Even so, I will echo the cries of countless airline nomads.  The seats are apparently designed by devious chiropractors who have turned to the dark-side; sinisterly engineered to turn the human spine into an aching bramble of tangled vertebrae.

Upon arrival in Sydney airport, we begin our forage for snacks, and survey for a lounge for our eight-hour layover.   (Which became a ten-hour layover.  Thanks, cyclone Pam.)  Kat, for the umpteenth time of the day, uses her mutant power to Cerebro-style detect every person from the Phillipines within a two-mile radius, finding some very helpful lounge gatekeepers.  Phillipinos are always incredibly friendly and open, marveling at Kat’s proficiency in a very uncommon second language.  At least I think that’s what happens.  They’re speaking Tagalog, so for all I know, it’s a cultural thing to argue with bright smiles, and they were actually in a vicious verbal duel.  If that’s the case, Kat is deadly.  And victorious once again, we find ourselves in the American Express Lounge, surrounded by snacks.  And for many hours, solitude and serenity.

I semi-industriously scrawl sticky paintmarker across the tiny, but remarkably expensive canvases of Magic cards.  The rare interruptions are pleasant folks asking what I was doing, or hovering ever closer until I offer for them to take a look.  I’m reminded how few adults engage in creating art every time I’m in a public place doing just that.  People orbit around me, their eyes tethered with a quiet curiosity as though I was practicing a craft they’d only heard of in legends.  Long before anything interesting is on the page, mind you.  And when they finally decide to swoop in for a brief conversation, it does not matter how far along the drawing is: I am seven  years old to them.  I can have four wobbly lines, and they will exclaim “Oh my gosh!  You’re such a good drawer!  That’s so amazing that you can do that!  Boy, I wish I could do that.  I bet your parents are very proud!”  And if they happen to have an actual seven year old along with them, I get introduced to the children as though I am the Avatar-god of Dreams Fulfilled.  Steeped in myth, with the power to inspire a young mind with but a few words, gifting everlasting keys to forge destinies, conquer all obstacles, and live every hope one will ever have.  This, of course, always ends in disappointment when I offer up something like “Yeah, it just takes practice.  Art is no different than anything else.  Put the work in, and you can do whatever.”  It’s like they expected my words to call a rainbow on a bolt of lightning, revealing the gift of a talking pegasus, hand them an amulet that fulfills desires; and what they got instead was a grunt of “meh,” and mildly farty dog wanders in from somewhere and won’t go away.

Our oasis paradise of free snacks and power strips was not to be entirely blissful, however.  There is another sort of family, with another sort of child, that you’ll occasionally encounter out in the wild.  The family that advertises vasectomies far better than any pharmaceutical company ever could.  The family of gremlin children born to zombie parents.  This will be how we spend our final hours in the airport lounge.  Peace broken by a dozen adults, trailed by what seemed like a thousand grabbing hands and slobbering mouths.  A rising tsunami of smelly bodies, screeches and howls, leaving everything in their wake sticky, gross, and somehow violated beyond the realm of physicality.  The “adults” scavenge the free bar like starving, shell-shocked survivors of the apocalypse, drenching and drowning what was left of the awareness of the multitudinous horrors they’ve unleashed, with whatever bottom-shelf liquors they could find.  In the meantime, those tiny humanish-shaped horrors descended upon the lounge as slimy pink locusts suddenly let loose from their 12-hour imprisonment on a plane.

These people and children are…  less than pleasant.  I had to save several Liliana of the Veil from literally being eaten.


Arriving at the hotel after midnight, the instructions for getting in included getting our room key from a safe in the lounge.  We arrived along with a handful of players, who opened the safe and rifled through a handful of envelopes exclaiming “Steve Argyle!”  Silly me, I thought they had recognized me, and wandered up to claim my envelope.  “I’ve got a ton of stuff to get signed.  We should totally wait in his room and ambush him.”

“Hi guys!  Hope to see you tomorrow at the show!  Have a good night!”  And gestured for my envelope.  They looked at me with an inquiring scan, suspecting I was a crazy person.  While not wrong, I clarified “that one’s for me.”

“Nice try.  There’s just ours, another group we know, and Steve Argyle’s”

“Yep.  Steve Argyle.  …  Um, that’s me.”

They then delightfully lost it for exactly seventeen seconds.  A frantic whirlwind of questions and compliments later, we parted ways to hibernate in our remarkably large suite.  We were in Auckland.  The GP was about to begin…

  • Listening to: Half of the voices in my head. The rest is jerks.
  • Reading: I'm trying to learn how.
  • Watching: Every step you take, every move you make.
  • Playing: a lovely little fiddle ditty vs. the devil.
  • Eating: Whatever wanders close to my glowy angler tongue.
  • Drinking: in the irony of it all.

Journal History


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TangentExpress Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
:party: :cake: Hope you had a good birthday! :cake: :party:
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Happy Birthday!
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Happy birthday =)
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:cake: Happy Birthday! :cake:
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happy birthday :D
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Happy birthday. Huggle!Have your cake and eat it toobirthday cakeBirthday cake  icon :iconcake3dplz:happy DA B-day :3 Hope your day is awesome.
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Happy Birthday!
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Happy birthday ! onion dance 
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Happy Birthday! Party Have your cake and eat it too 
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