Three Words, One Story. Round 2.

Here are the rules: I ask for an Object, a Name, and an Adjective. With this, I flesh out a short story. In this story, I wanted to focus more on the development of plot structure, as well as dabbling with technical design.

03/22/14 – sci-fi mech, Torel, greasy & gothic (because he couldn’t make his mind up ;) – Chival

Just one more turn. One more and this should complete the reconnection, of the left leg joint. He called it “Berserk”, because it reminded him of an aggressive warrior. The design of the arms allows the pilot to deliver heavy blows, without needing to overcompensate bi-pedal mobility. However, the heaviness of the torso frame would support wild, and over-zealous strikes. If only the restrictions that pilots faced, could be re-evaluated; to allow more freedom of how to handle close quarters encounters. He completed his turn, after a short lapse in focus.

Dask is an apprentice to a renowned mechanic, whose reputation stretched across the nation. The great Torel Ghersa, the “Red Wrench”, the “true success behind the Kazash Skirmish” where three well positioned mechs, thwarted the advance of an advancing Gothic regiment. Dask had great respect for Torel’s accomplishments, but cursed his abidance to “acceptable standards”. He sees more to the potential of mechs, and how they can interact in combat, than anyone else he knew; including the “esteemed Red Wrench”.

Scilofractic Fighting Mechanicals (or “sci-fi mechs”) became the next evolution, in how the Sixth Sun Nation would defend against the impending threat of General Gothic’s armies. After he launched his coup-de-tat at the 3rd Unification Meet, and killed most of the country’s leaders, the outlying nations have struggled to oppose his military technology. Luckily, the SSN was responsible for most of the mech development for the country, before these events took place. The discovery of Scilo crystals, and their ability to generate massive amounts of renewable energy, was the SSN’s only hope of survival.

Dask dreaded the lectures he had to endure, to become a certified Sci-Fi Mech Technician. Torel may have been the genius behind the invention of Sci-Gen, but he was a terrible speaker. “Scilofractic Generation is where solar energy is collected in photosynthetic cells, filtered and amplified through a series of Scilo lenses, and recycled through a series of channels, to power the kinetic engine. If you cannot remember this process in the correct order, then please apply for the opening of overnight janitor, which was just posted.” Dask laughed at remembering this, as he basically fulfills that role, while simultaneously being a technician.

Greasy and exhausted, Dask rose from the work pit and headed for the locker room. Before the images of a warm shower could grant him comfort, he was summoned by a familiar voice. Torel hastily walked up, and presented Dask with a familiar envelop. It was Dask’s schematics of a new type of cooling system, to help improve the performance of the kinetic engine. He was surprised, because he figured that Torel simply disposed of it. “The Gothics have developed a new heat weapon, that may have the ability to warp the Scilo lenses, or damage the kinetic engine. I want you to take the coolant idea, and apply it to the defense against it. We will start testing in 2 days, after the recon team provides more intel.” Torel began to walk off, but made a sudden stop.

“Dask…did I sound a little more relaxed, just now?”
“A little better, dad. Eventually, you will sound less like a robotic dictator.”

Torel cracked a slight grin, and set off to meet the Intelligence Department. Dask was beyond excited. He was certain that the coolant system could avoid frequent overheating issues, while avoiding any further complication to the structure of the kinetic engine. Luckily, the system would not have many external components, and decrease the risk of receiving damage from this heat weapon. The next few days, may alter the fate of Dask’s career. Possibly, the fate of the Sixth Sun Nation.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________

I didn’t anticipate to take this direction, but I wanted to challenge myself. The focus here was to create a narrative that could be perceived an entirely different way. If you can easily visualize what is occurring, then I was successful. I also hope that fellow production nerds will enjoy this.

03/24/14 – catalytic convertor, Kendal, exuberant – Sarah

Scene 2-2a

Cross fade from title into Kendal’s Room. Quick static shots of roughly 2 or 3 seconds, to the rhythm of the background music, reveal the following (in order):

A room decorated in dark blue, with sea green accents; which is completely different from the rest of the house. The bed is unmade, with half of the sheets draped over to the right.

Printed pictures from the internet, and magazine clippings of her favorite metal bands and video games, on a large cork board in the center of the room, which is opposite of the door to the hall.

An old bookshelf lined with books and encyclopedias that barely look touched. A tighter shot shows several math and computer programming books in a clean, vertical stack.

Kendal’s back, while she is sitting at her computer, which has a green painted case, and a white desk fan built into the side of the case.

A closer shot reveals that it’s almost comically disproportionate to the standard size of a normal computer fan.

Scene 2-2b

Kendal is panned left into view, from behind the computer monitor. She is a white girl in her late teens, with strong Eastern European features (Romanian or Ukrainian descent). She is very pale, with a slightly athletic build, and bright green eyes. Her light brown hair contains streaks of red, with the brown roots slightly showing. It is pulled into a pony tail, and positioned against the right side of her neck, showing a silver, sword shaped pendant. She is wearing a black hoodie, and eye glasses with a thin, black frame. She seems exuberant, as she is quickly typing a message on the computer.

Next shot shows her fingers (covered in black, slightly worn fingernail polish) quickly typing words, and showing great keyboard typing proficiency. The next shot slightly pans right, from behind Kendal’s head, showing the conversation on the monitor. A closer shot shows Kendal, chatting with “automaniac98”, while she uses the handle “Evilcodechic”.

Kendal (internally narrating, excited): It’s been 4 days, and I already know I’m about to lose my mind. It was just a movie, but we talked through the whole thing. (Shots of Kendal, and shots of the screen alternate during the dialogue) (Cautious) I want to believe he is perfect, but I know better than to expect that. I don’t want to end up like Aunt Sheila, and be left a car note I can’t pay off.

automaniac98: if people would stop buying refurbished catalytic converters, before checking the oxygen sensor

(Giddy) Speaking of car, it’s so cute to see how riled up he gets, when he talks about the people that come to his dad’s auto shop.

automaniac98: of their current one, they wouldn’t have to spend the money for it, as well as

(Amorous) He’s well spoken, and seems like he actually gives a damn about people making good choices. I don’t think he’s from this planet…or at least this county.

automaniac98: the cost of installing it. It’s just pure laziness. You know what I mean?

Kendal smiles, as she begins replying. Evilcodechic: yeah, most of the people in my programming class

Kendal (concerned): We aren’t that different, when you think about it. I mean…we are both technical-minded people, but the systems are different. He works on cars, I work on computers. I wish he would see that. Hell, you have to use computers to MAKE cars!

Evilcodechic: just try to cheat off of each other’s work, they don’t learn anything that way!!!

(Frustrated) I’m not looking for my future baby daddy or anything! I just want him to stop looking at me like a “little sister”. That shit is just aggravating! Dude, we are about to graduate soon. You might date some sexy harpy and forget about me, because she enslaves you with her mighty whore magic.

Evilcodechic: I get aggravated with people, who aren’t willing to do what it takes be better.

Cut away to Kendal’s cell phone ringing, which looks like an older Nokia model from the early 2000’s. It displays the text “MOMBOT” across the top. Cut to Kendal who seems indifferent, but quickly answers the phone.

Kendal (professional): I called them already. They said Jacob’s medicine should be ready by 2:15, so I’ll pick it up as I head to his school. (She waits for 3 seconds) Yes, you did. Thank you for leaving that for us. (She turns around in her chair, and we see most of the room again, waiting for another 3 seconds. She suddenly emits a high pitched laugh, as if by accident) Mom, you still suck at telling jokes, but you got me this time. (She waits for 2 seconds) Bye.

Camera returns to showing the opposite of the computer, as Kendal turns back around. She looks slightly embarrassed at whatever her mother said, but her expression slowly fades to a blank. The camera begins to zoom up to the screen, then cuts to a tight pan from left to right.

automaniac98: We think so much alike, I swear (Camera cuts to Kendal’s eyes slowly getting bigger) that we (her brow starts to ruffle in anger) are related.

After several seconds of showing only “are related”, cut back to full shot of Kendal with the same angry expression. She then slowly reaches under her desk. Cut to her firmly pressing the power button, and holding it for several seconds. Cut to the computer screen, as it suddenly goes black. Cut back to her sitting still for a moment, then reaching over to pick up her keys.

Kendal finally speaks out-loud (irritated): Nope.

[END SCENE]
______________________________________________________________________________________________________

I’m still shaking my head, over this next story. It was time for another tale of action, and I was given some interesting materials to build it with.

03/25/14 – katana, Elmo, sour – WB

The foul stench of the ruins, sent a fevering chill down the spine of Elmo. Was this not the street, where human and beast alike reveled in the satisfaction of learning? Where all were respected for their beliefs, and celebrated for their diversity? Where the ignorant could come, and be embraced by the enlightenment of knowledge?

Not any longer.

Elmo watched with awe, as the green mist floated into the cloudless blue sky. At first, the denizens looked upon it in curiosity, and believed it to be some interesting trick. When did harm ever come to Sesame Street? As it began to settle to the ground, it emitted a sour, and unpleasant smell. Gordon began to walk past, with a confounded look upon his face. He sat at the table adjacent to Elmo’s, and stared blankly ahead.

“Hi, Gordon. This stuff sure smells gross! I wonder what’s going on?” said Elmo, as he hoped his mentor would answer; as he always did. Gordon’s eyes began to lose their luster, and streaks of red spread across them. He slowly looked over at Elmo, blinking erratically, dripping blood down his cheeks. Suddenly, his labored breathing stopped, and a strained groan left his lips. Gordon’s final words will forever echo, within Elmo’s mind.

“Elmo….run”

Elmo became frightened, completely perplexed by what he was witnessing. He stood up, and cautiously made his way over to help his lifelong friend. Before he could make it around the table, Gordon suddenly lunged out of his chair. In a frenzy, he knocked the table away with inhuman strength, and reached out for Elmo’s throat. Elmo panicked, and tripped over a chair that was nearby. He kicked it at Gordon, causing him to stumble to the ground. Fiercely clawing, clumsily regaining traction, dragging his heavy body towards his primal objective. Elmo was paralyzed with fear; tears streaming down his red fur. His mind ran amok in terror. “Why does Gordon want to hurt me? Where are my mommy and daddy? Where are my friends? Why am I starting to feel angry? Big Bird told me when I feel…..angry….I…..that I……should kill everyone!”.

Elmo felt a surge of emotions that he could not understand. He was effortlessly moving without thought, and readied himself for the enemy before him. As Gordon meagerly reached up for Elmo again, his hand was grasped by Elmo. Gordon stopped for a brief second, and matched eyes with Elmo. His hand was suddenly twisted backwards, and torn from his body with the rest of his arm. Gordon let out a cry, and continued his pursuit. Elmo lifted the stone top from a broken table, and savagely struck Gordon’s skull. He screamed out as he smashed the object repeatedly, until he had nothing but bits of rock left in his blood stained hands.

It made no sense. Elmo should feel something, after what he has done. There was nothing. Only the burning desire to survive. He looked around, as old friends mercilessly tore into each other’s bodies. Blood flowed between the bricks of the once pristine road, that bridged all of these wonderful entities together. Elmo kicked in the door of the cafe, and walked up to the mantle of the shopkeeper’s old fireplace. A katana rested over it, untouched and ready for battle. Elmo grasped the sheath, and slid the smooth blade out to witness it’s splendor. A slight glimmer flashed on the sword, and a sudden scrape sounded behind Elmo. He spun and raised his blade in defense, as Grover swung a meat cleaver towards Elmo’s face.

The swing was vertical, causing the cleaver to slide down the katana blade. Elmo instinctively shifted the handle in the opposite direction. The heavy cleaver threw Grover off balance as he attempted to compensate, for the loss of momentum. The katana was now angled downward, with the blade facing his new adversary. Elmo threw his body forward, and swung with feral might. A splash of warm blood doused the room, as pieces of Grover dropped to the floor with sickening thuds.

The sight and smell of death. The sound of cut flesh and bone. The skills of combat. Elmo knew none of these things, roughly half an hour ago. Now he has become one with this tool of murder. No hesitation. No remorse. Elmo has truly become, a little monster.

Elmo rubs his face, as he returns to the present. Through his travels along the shattered remnants of other fallen avenues, Elmo began seeing signs of a calculated attack. The green mist had reached much further than Sesame Street, and the highest concentration came from large trash cans. He was not privy to the strategies of war, but he knew enough to grasp an understanding of the situation. Overlooking the landscape of Sesame Street, from atop an apartment building, his suspicions are confirmed. The Grouches are beginning to take over the entire city. Intertwined mounds of trash slowly creep up the sides of the walls. Odorous puddles of waste seep out of the sewers, and fill the streets. Among this chaos, a familiar figure slowly trudges through the mire. It is Mr. Snuffleupagus, tied up and mounted by Oscar the Grouch. Oscar cackles with fiendish delight, as he watches the formation of his new land, over the bodies of his former co-habitants.

Whatever is left of the old Elmo, began crying out for his fallen loved ones. The new Elmo perceives Oscar as a threat to his longevity. Together, they know what needs to be done. Elmo leaps from the building towards Oscar, with his blood stained katana in hand. The Grouches must fall.

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