ok welcom 2 ma sandbox her i wrietn stuf 4 u to read n tat i edita n 2 maek good
hope u LIEK IT
OK DIS SOTRY IS CALED "TEH JAEGD MAN"
OEN DAY THER WAS A JAEGED MAN AND HE WENT 2 DA ASLUYUM HOUES N HE TALEKD 2 DA MAN
WHAT AER U SAD DA MAN
MAN IM THE JAJEGD MAN N IM GONA KIL U SAID THE JAFFED MAN
OH SHI SAID TEH MAN B4 HE GOT KILLENETED
N HE WAS NEVAR FONUD. U BETR WATHC OUT CUZ TEH NEXT VICTITIM CUD BE YOU!!!!1!11
- The Truly Dead
- The Automobile (two ideas)
- Lamento del Mago
- The Hunter's Disappointment rewrite
- Age of Empires II: Rule of the Daevites
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In a bygone age, the view from the hill on Courtney Lane commanded high prices. Now, with most of the surrounding buildings crumbling to bits, Jacob wondered if the homeowners ultimately got their money's worth.
He stepped through the battered shell of one of the large houses lining the road. There wasn't much left inside either; Mother Nature had long since took over where the looters stopped so long ago. Emerging in the forest of weeds comprising the back yard, he could see the remains of the downtown skyline in the morning light.
The Spracklemore Building, still standing proud even after its steps had flown with blood, was missing more glass - there wasn't much left at all now. Coomb Tower lay in a heap on the north side, and he couldn't decide whether it was more remarkable to remember it crashing down in the first place or that it didn't take any other skyscrapers with it when it did. If it weren't for that and the distantly-visible quarantine wall, he would almost be reminded of home.
He felt a pang of something fuzzy and ill-defined, but he definitely knew it didn't feel good. Feelings were usually like that for him now. It felt like so long since he was last home. The past several years were more of a blur every time he recalled them, and he could forget about before then because he had pretty much forgotten anyway. He figured it would have ended sooner than this, either for the city or for himself. And yet here they both were.
He never used to be this sentimental about old Philly, but after spending more than twelve years as an unwilling disaster tourist in England, he decided he wasn't above pining.
A groan echoed behind him. Jacob turned around.
What approached him through the ruined house used to be human. The scant remains of its clothes were torn and bloodied, the skin a gray-green palette of decay and rot. There were a couple of bits and chunks missing. Its step was an offbeat gait that had a lot in common with a peg-legged pirate's. The thing's eyes were wide open, its lips desiccated. Its hair was beyond hope.
Guess that taught him to try and enjoy a walk. He wondered if it was too far gone for a syringe. He wished he had one to begin with.
The zombie groaned again. Even after all this time for him to get used to it, for its throat to wither away, it was still unpleasant.
It was probably starving. That didn't mean it couldn't put up a fight, and he wasn't in the mood for undead wrestling. No, he relinquished his championship belt a long time ago. He moved past it to his left and made his way past the thing out onto the street, where he started walking.
It was about half an hour on foot from Courtney Lane to the safehouse, across winding, overgrown roads and down cracked residential streets. The zombie had stopped in its tracks at the point where infill started to give way to the city proper, for which he was grateful. The fact that they needed to rest was what probably kept humanity going more than anything else.
He eventually neared the Rothschild Arms, nestled in a block of shops that was somehow more intact than most. Broken windows and faded paint told of better days for the old pub. Its barricade was missing, parts of it strewn about. It wasn't supposed to be missing and strewn about. He ran inside.
Inside was worse. The bar itself was battered and splintered, the meager decorations smashed and trampled. He almost tripped over the destroyed ration packs covering half the lounge's floor and cringed for two - supply lifts were rarer than ever. No sign of the two who were here three days ago, other than the fresh blood stains on the floor mixed with broken bottles and the little alcohol that were left. No bodies.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He'd barely joined up and they'd gone and been attacked while he was out. A search for clues about where they might have went proved fruitless. Not like they would have had time to leave notes, and that's if they hadn't turned already.
He didn't relish the thought of having to find them, much less stick them. Needles were also rare these days, and needle manufacturing was hard enough it hurt just to think about it. At that moment, the city felt larger than his rational mind knew it was.
Jacob leaned against the wall and started thinking. Human attackers would have had to destroy some of the barricade or break off the iron bars to get in, and it would be difficult to find and use a cutting tool for the latter approach. Zombie attackers would have had to completely destroy the barricade to gain entry, and they probably hadn't learned how to use blowtorches…yet. It seemed unlikely that these people would have fallen to a small party of zeds, but he wasn't aware of any large swarms.
If the culprits were human, they would have destroyed the barricade, not to mention everything inside, out of spite or some psycho philosophy, which the city had seen more than its fair share of. While all the groups he could remember who would do such a thing were probably all gone, he didn't rule out a murderer or two being able to break in. Now that there weren't as many undead left for large mobs, his fellow man had proven to be a more dangerous enemy.
They had always been dangerous, he corrected himself. They were just even more dangerous now.
The only saving grace of the whole situation was the untouched emergency kit and rations stored inside the women's restroom wall. Jacob grabbed the kit and one ration, sat down at a relatively intact part of the bar, opened the British Army 24-Hour Operational Ration Pack and considered his next move as he started eating. He wanted a drink, but even if there were any left, he figured he should be sober for the time being. This would be a decent substitute for one, damned if it was a good idea or not.
He could always just forget about this and move on, doing…whatever he somehow thought of doing. But these people were part of a larger group, one of the few left. Not only that, they were trying to do good. Did he really want to go back to wandering, to doing nothing more than scrounging for himself? Again? Did he want to risk whatever had happened here catching up to him? Or, for that matter, anyone else?
It was difficult to find friends in the city now. Brilliant deduction, Captain Obvious, he bitterly thought to himself. Most of the ones he had tended to slip away after a while. It was uncanny. He wasn't too keen on losing these ones either, as much as the odds were against him finding them.
Jacob had a lot of reasons not to ignore this. He still didn't like it, but that couldn't be helped when there wasn't much left to like. Wordlessly, Jacob packed up the rations, grabbed his crowbar from the former sleeping area and walked out of the pub.
The reinforced stone and scrap metal façade of Gorwin Mall loomed large in the evening sun, and a very faint light streamed from further inside the building. The group's modus operandi included regrouping at this place in case of disaster, but apart from that he didn't know about their contingency plans. He figured he might as well try searching inside.
Lying in his vantage point in the ruins of the nearby M43, Jacob squinted through his binoculars at the dozen or so zombies at the main entrance. 12 years and they were still sieging the malls. Who could have guessed they'd stay so popular? He couldn't see any indication he could somehow worm through the zombies and the barricade, which by this point was pretty much also scrap metal. He was almost ready to go looking for another way in when he realized something.
Looking at the group of zombies again, he realized that one of them looked awfully like Asa. On closer inspection, it was Asa. The woman who was at the safehouse.
Looks like she didn't get away safely. She must have remembered, though. Not enough to get inside, but enough to show up here anyway.
Jacob saw her bag slung over her shoulder. He couldn't quite remember if she had a syringe on her or not. He didn't know where any of the others were. He did not like what he was about to do, but that was hardly a strange feeling.
He got up from his perch and started his approach, slowly creeping along to the right of the parking lot. A handful of rusting cars and an old corpse didn't provide great cover; that parking lot was as dead as any place in the city. Most of the zombies, however, were intent on milling around the main entrance and occasionally banging on the sealed entryway. A couple didn't seem to be moving at all. Asa was in the outskirts of the group on the side he was approaching from. If he could just get close enough without drawing attentio-
No. One of them noticed. Sighing, he straightened his own shoulder pack and quickened his pace.
[Death cultists venerate unlife, and want to spread it as much as they can. If this means using operatives who are still properly alive, so be it.]
some zombies are pounding on the barricade, some of them are just standing about
[Actually, you could have Asa be one of the zombies out front. A revive syringe could be found on her person. Drag her body up and inside, let her revive and then stick around for her to heal, and to ask questions. She could have come here out of that ill-recalled memory to meet up.
Can syringes prolong life indefinitely? Do they corrupt? Perhaps their influence is what's slowly killing everything, or at least changing the people inside. Perhaps they're being desensitized, or they've just changed over time, maybe due to changes in manufactured syringe production. Definitely describe the syringes a bit and their effects. How does Jacob like unlife? Maybe Asa could be part of some secret Way business, and therefore unusually cheery because of it.]
[What could the two stand to gain?]
Some of his fellow survivors had resorted to freerunning to get around years back, but there were too many ruined buildings for it to be practical anymore, and he had come to appreciate skulking through the streets. But now, it looked like the only way into Gorwin was by clambering over some narrow welded scrap and stonework 'steps' on the side of the building a ways down. Better than jumping off a building.
Jacob advanced cautiously, skirting around a parking lot that only contained small piles of scrap and the occasional dead body. Clambering over the haphazard staircase and to the roof was relatively uneventful, and soon he was on the roof. A gaping entryway was his way in.
[Roof has rainwater catchers.]
The interior was as ramshackle as he expected, on par with most of the other malls, but at least they had a generator somewhere. An airy atrium with a broken skylight served as a common area, but the multi-level branching halls were sparse and cloistered, even where lighting was rigged. The grand majority of the stores were empty or simply in shambles. Heavily cracked floor tiles, faded paint and hanging posters defined the mall's aesthetic, and supporting structures had been reinforced with more scrap metal. It felt like a slow-burn apocalypse out of a 70's movie. He wondered if there were any working movie projectors around.
[the hydroponic farm he knew was in this particular shopping complex. He supposed that made it pretty important. They couldn't feed everyone in town, but the fresh vegetables helped.]
A handful of people inhabited the mall. He found one in particular before he had a chance to talk to any of them.
[HOW HARD IS THE ATTACK ON THEIR GROUP? Asa knows information about the attacks on their group. Something about how radio was used in the older days.]
She was waiting near the entrance to a hardware store, sitting on a wooden bench he was very surprised had lasted this long. Had the defenders proved sentimental enough to save it, or had they merely overlooked it before they started welding their barricades? Either way, it wasn't important right now.
[No, Jacob was briefly tempted to give in and die. Pure animal instinct kept him alive. Maybe Asa is the one who fights, and Jacob doesn't?]
Some parts of the city would be rubble by this point
[21:16:06] <thedeadlymoose> well right now it reads like the intro to a much longer story sequence
[21:16:16] <thedeadlymoose> so you'd wanna rewrite to make a beginning/middle/end
[21:16:38] <thedeadlymoose> if you want it at this length, counter-intuitively, you need to make it much shorter
[21:16:46] <Trar> i might write more
[21:16:51] <thedeadlymoose> readers are willing to read through a sort of travelogue if it's long enough that a ton of shit happens
[21:16:58] <thedeadlymoose> but not if nothing much happens
[21:17:07] <thedeadlymoose> which is why short stories are more difficult than novels
<Bunton> Also I think you'll want to get some characterisation going
The story has a forlorn mood, to match the fact that the city is dying - crumbling to pieces behind a military quarantine - and (at least most of) its inhabitants are dying with it. A good portion of the city is definitely ruined. Since everyone left is infected until further notice and will probably turn into a zombie when they die, the military is blocking off the city and the remaining people are slowly disappearing. They are truly dead, in a sense. Jacob is pretty forlorn as well after his time in the city, sometimes to the point of fatalism, but not enough to lie down and stop moving. Something keeps him going, some small flame of life that survived even his encounters with unlife. An outsider's POV on life would seem pretty strange to him, and vice versa.
There could be a Way/magic around, if there's things mysteriously moving in and out of the city. Not to mention the gradual degeneration, or the fact that the a group of zeds could have formed a hivemind. Maybe you could even work in zergers somehow.
Payoff in downtown, where a skyscraper fell down - the shooter's corpse reveals enough information needed to fight the death cultists. Do some of that, then perhaps reveal a twist. He could die at the end, somehow. Don't forget to try and capture the mood of UD you felt that compelled you to write this in the first place.
People still travel around the city. Not as much as they used to - a couple areas are definitely safer to settle down for a while than others, unlike the old days. But much of the city is either largely abandoned or still risky.
People who couldn't somehow find toothbrushes or make do with more primitive implements have had some unfortunate dental health problems. To say nothing of the other diseases lurking in the city.
'He had figured out long ago the top brass were leaving them all to wither away, either as part of an overall experiment or simply to deal with the infestation without leveling the whole city. Considering it used to be the third largest in the UK, he could understand why they wouldn't have done so. He knew they were lucky they managed to seal it off as well as they did. But the city was still falling apart.
Which is why it baffled him that they were still parachuting in soldiers here every once in a while. The supplies, he could understand. But more people? This city was dying. Once you were infected, there was no going back. And he was pretty sure the UN would go ballistic if this was a new form of capital punishment they came up with. What kind of screwball scientists did they have monitoring the place, anyway?'
'Make-do engineers with toolboxes and welders only went so far. There wasn't enough real building material to go around even with what the military still gave them, and the cranes were almost all gone.'
The championship belt is literal. They had actual zombie wrestling several years back. Crazy.
WL story based off lategame/endgame UD w/ theories, hopefully capturing atmosphere.
Your idea: car with multiversal/anomalous parts drives into ordinary auto repair - could be classic car. Mechanic realizes something is quite strange.
Bubble, Bubble, Oil and Transmission (thanks Silber): Auto repair shop run by witches. Customer drives in with a classic car, something about Ways.
Perhaps these automobiles are invented in another universe - the sort of place you'd find on the other side of a Way. Naturally, if they're invented in a place with magic and such, they might function differently…
Maybe you could mention something about fantasy races in a modern setting, or the 'soul' of railroad locomotives.
Although the best idea seems to be an excerpt of automobile history from another world.
Another idea: wizards trying to repair a purely normal car.
Previous draft was unworkable. Need to start over. Critique from previous draft:
chubert said: lot of stuff thematically that could be worked into magical CIA assassins and you're melding it with the occult, assassination carries with it a lot of implications
what does this imply for the story? you're focusing too much on the minutae of the actual assassination
chubert said: overall though it's competently written and I found myself liking the idea of magical cia assassins way more than i thought i would
<Vivax> Trar: You need to add plot, character and things.
<Vivax> Do more here, homeslice
A stylized poem retelling magic CIA shenanigans, followed by a transcript of a meeting about said shenanigans aimed at Latin America…
Two mighty kings in two great lands
Both of whom vied for power;
Their forces convinced
They may soon see the hour
Between the two hostile realms
There was a most peculiar balance;
A shared realization
That one king's malice
Checked the other.
Such was their might, yet they seeked,
In mocking substitute for war,
To have other nations
Fight for them more
In their stead.
These two lands thought differently
In their principles,
Their realities a bit less
Their machinations significantly less
The grasp of bureaucracy proving a universal ailment
The wise men and the wise women
Who serve them
Yet as hard as they look, the wise ones fail to see:
The legends, the prophecies, the soothsayers too
Say that if they fail in their task
The world may start anew
[i]Fin del mundo[/i].
"Now, ah, mister President"
Because this is a THING THAT SHOULD HAPPEN.
You know, at some point.
(Consider just inventing some strategy game that involves the Daevites. Or Elrich. Maybe just make an advertisement.)
Snippets from the instruction manual, promotional material, strategy guides, and maybe something a bit more mysterious…basically an alternate history/universe/whatever expansion to Age of Empires II featuring the Daevites as a playable faction with new units, features, campaign and all. They could have lasted until the Middle Ages here. Consider something similar for Total War.
The Daevites place an emphasis on well-fortified towns(made with a lot of Rock naturally), hard-hitting wizard cavalry and mages. They can also sacrifice Villagers on Altars for various gameplay bonuses, and can eventually call up powerful spirits and magical forces to fight for them.
NEED TO DEFINE UNITS
DAEVITE HISTORY BLURBS?
NEED TO LOOK UP PROMO MATERIALS AND STRATEGY GUIDES
A Late Night at Ensemble Studios
in which a developer for AOE2 is visited by a daevite spirit thingy
Age of Empires II: Rule of the Daevites
basically snippets from the manual
Age of Empires II®: Rule of the Daevites Expansion continues the epic challenge of medieval combat and empire-building of The Age of Kings® – with a twist.
Age of Empires II: Rule of the Daevites Expansion includes these new features.
- Civilizations – Daevites, Huns and Chinese. For informations about each civilization's abilities, see Civilization Attributes in the Appendix. For historical information about each civilization, click History on the main menu.
Sacrificial Altars let you sacrifice Villagers to gain Sacrifice, create Monks and improve their ability to heal the wounded and bind the enemy. Altars cannt be converted by enemy Monks. Relics placed on an Altar provide a continuous supply of Sacrifice, as explained in Chapter IV. Gathering all relics is one way to summon a Bloodquaker (See Chapter II). Monks can be garrisoned on the Altar if you set a gather point there while the Monks are being created. They cannot re-garrison once ungarrisoned.
Sacrifice was a central part of Daevite culture.
AoE2: Rule of the Daevites FAQ by MrTheDog
a GameFAQs-esque guide to parts of the game
Mission 4: The Hun Interception
STARTING RESOURCES: 300 Wood, 400 Food, 500 Gold, 200 Rock, 300 Sacrifice
Your starting units are: 5 Villagers, 1 Scout, 5 Militia, 10 Blood Riders, 2 Mages
Mission objectives are: Destroy the Hun camp
So after your victory over the Chinese, you must now fight the Huns on the steppes of Asia and defeat them. Sounds easy enough, right? In practice, this will likely lead to Hun cavalry archers and your mounted wizards trading arrows and magic bolts, which looks awesome but is not exactly a cakewalk. You start in the northeastern part of the map in a small town. Begin by producing more villagers (9 or so will do for now) and building an altar. There's a rock deposit slightly to the southeast, get some villagers over there so you can grab it. Also make sure to build some farms.
Alright, that's all the information I've managed to dig up. The only copy of the manual I could find was severely damaged by fire and the strategy guide wasn't even finished yet. Tell the guys I might not be around for a while. I'm following some leads on Total War: Elrich and I might have to get my boots dirty in their world. I can't help but wonder why the Library sorely lacks in video game material.