…Not that it’s always a bad thing. Oftentimes it’s great. But, for the tasks we have in mind, it’s usually going to have more trouble than it sounds. This has nothing to do with how well designed it is, it has to do with the fact that the artist is now partially in the audience, and is under the same spell; and is likely to make improper assumptions about what it can do.
I open this website with a note about the threshold of disbelief—that the real, and imaginary, are limited only by our perception of the media. This is basically rule zero when doing any kind of multimedia work. It’s the difference between hearing a cacophony of vibrating strings, and a symphony. The same goes for a 3D model; you have to keep your eye on your end goal.
That is, an illusion, or maybe an elucidation. You are communicating with your audience. To do that, you need full articular control to do it, which in this case, means full control of the behavior of your model. This is one of the things you inherently give up when you add a physics effect.
I’m sure it sounds, on the surface, like I’m being a jerk here, or failing to appreciate the wonders that Mantaflow and FLIP are capable of. I’m not, they’re awesome; the question is, what is it that you saw simulated with them? Ponds, swimming pools, bathtubs. It is great for these. But what if you’re trying to have water coming out of a faucet? And what if you just need a little water in a glass full of (yikes) non-axis-aligned ice cubes?
If you’ve been screwing around with Mantaflow at all, you know that these are impossible situations. Yes, it is possible in theory to do them; scaling down your domain or turning up its sensitivity, as an example, can hypothetically make a faucet source work. However, physics isn’t computationally simple. It takes time, and CPU cores, to do; and the first few times you’ve consistently screwed something up with it.
So, people get so worked up about the awesome possibilities of Mantaflow, they overshoot them and overlook its costs; while nine times out of ten I’ve found that much more manageable metasurfaces and shape keys will do the job just as well. They’re easy enough to do to almost consistently be used in read-time rendering.
Let’s talk about cloth. Cloth is fun, especially if you have any exposure or background as a couturier, as it behaves exactly like real cloth and borrows a lot of familiar terminology. If you want to make a T-shirt, you literally just have to build faces that match the components of the shirt and sew them together with spring weights.
However, now we have a new concern. Collision. Unless you’re just modeling the shirt—you might be—you’re going to have to get it onto the body of a model. Now you need to worry about collision detection, which means you need to understand collision boundaries. Box, convex hull, or mesh? Should you use a duplicated and simplified collision boundary or not? You’re going to have to go all out to get cloth simulation to consistently work. And, you’re going to hate it. So much.
Once again, though, people bump into the physics tab and get so excited about the options, from rigid body to soft body to fluid (liquid, smoke, and fire) to cloth. They never even notice that there’s a cloth brush, in sculpt tools, meant to help with this exact task in an operationally manageable way.
And, speaking of fire and smoke, they’re fun, and they’re not that hard to get working. Unfortunately, they’re also extremely CPU hungry. Why am I worried about CPUs? Can’t I just “get better hardware”? In theory; but CPU equates to time, which we never, ever have enough of. Don’t fool yourself, you’re already running out of it. That has little to do with hardware, and more to do with how you’re dedicating your use of it.
If you can choose between an ultra-realistic path determination for a single “molecule” of water, or an extremely impressive material, the material will always be more beneficial.
For fire and smoke, it’s much better to get it working within acceptable parameters, bake the whole thing to a folder, and import the contents of that folder (specifically the
data directory) as a volume. Once you’re done editing it, you should never allow it to change itself, as a general workflow principle. The artist must emulate God with these tasks, and volumes, while relatively new to blender, are so much faster, and often more customizable, than a physics calculation.
The thing no one is inclined to realize about Blender’s physics modifiers is that they’re basically advanced noise generators. You have as much control over them as you do over a particle effect. Much like particles, they have their place; but you can’t jump avant garde into them without expecting their effect to spill over into the rest of your animation.
At the end of the day, Blender Physics is not computational physics. With rare exceptions, your computer can’t even handle computational physics; that’s the kind of job that’s typically allocated to a cluster. Physics emulation follows the same rule as everything else—does the viewer find it believable? What do they see?
So, when attempting to emulate a physical effect, I suggest this (flexible) routine:
0. Verify the need. Are you sure you need a physics simulation to do this? Are there any sculpt tools, modifiers, constraints, or material effects, which could do the job for you? Is it something that you could literally just do in compositing? If so, these will be quicker and easier paths.
- Isolate it. You’re still working with pixels and samples, in the end. You don’t need your effect to spill over into other materials. I will often create an entirely new file to model it in, and simply
Appendthe finished product into my master animation when I’m done. You most certainly do not want more than one unbaked physics simulation going at the same time.
- Research it. There’s
Quick Fire, sure, but do you really understand what they’re doing? Do you know how to customize them to meet your vision? I strongly suggest you put some time aside—as valuable as time is—to look up what all of these controls specifically do. If you’re going to apply a physics effect on a regular basis, it’s important to recognize that it is a tool in and of itself, which requires mastery. There really aren’t any useful “wizard”-like interfaces for these.
- Allocate for it. Unless you’re working on something very low budget or are immediately running out of time—which is, actually, a great reason not to bother with physics at all—this is going to take a while to get right. Give yourself a day if you’re completely new to it, and if you’re really feeling the creative impulse to pursue it, don’t be surprised if it overflows into a few days.
- Bake it once you’re done. This applies to everything—rigid and soft bodies, fluid simulations, cloth if it’s got to be attached to an armature. Once you’ve got it behaving how you want, commit it to RAM and drive space. Having multiple physics simulations going at once can increase rendering time geometrically; so it’s always better to have it sorted to key frames. Animation key frames don’t really slow things down at all.
Physics emulation is kind of like handing off your design to a less experienced designer, like an intern, and giving them total creative freedom with it; then stepping back in a few hours later.
We don’t expect Photoshop or Quark to have physics effects. Hell, we don’t even expect After Effects to have them. So, why on earth do we fail to see them for what they are in Blender? I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again—you must know your noise.