Story to Music: Unkempt

Note - I really enjoyed writing this one and I think this could be fleshed out into something decent -

Ryley walked up the steps to the station where Claire was waiting for him. She signaled to him the moment he was in view as he hurried to meet her.

"Where did you disappear to?" Claire asked.
"Sorry the teacher slowed me down." replied Ryley

The train screeched into the station as they lined up to get on board. As Claire got on she swiped her arm bar-code over the payment scanner. On verification the computer chimed in, "Thank you Claire McKenny, enjoy your ride!" Ryley had always struggled to separate himself from the pack so he had his bar-code embedded into his right arm. This was technically illegal but his father was connected enough that no charges we're ever bought against him. Once again after verifying his identity the computer cheerfully replied, " Thank you Ryley Deckard, enjoy your ride!

As usual all the seat we're taken so Claire and Ryley resigned to standing. The computer's voice once again filled the cabin with it's overly friendly tone. "The train will be leaving soon but first a word from our sponsors. At this point all the walls turned transparent as each one began showing the same advert.

"Think your neighbours are up to something. Turn you paranoia into cold hard cash. Call 1800-Betrayal Today!" The Ministry of Protection logo flashed briefly as the wall transformed back.

Ryley lent over to Claire and asked "Have you ever actually called that number?"
"Are you kidding me, my neighbours work for the Ministry of Protection. At this rate I'll never get a new car. You should call it; your neighbours aren't even Australian, it's easy cash."

Ryley ignored her as he watched the other station from afar. Something was happening but he couldn't make out what exactly. The police we're interviewing several passengers. This was all standard behavior but suddenly a large thud was heard, it was a sound Ryley had never heard before. It was gunfire, the police had opened fire at a couple as they fled across the station. The first was a man whose face had been scarred by small pox but other than that he was quite handsome, well built and incredible fast.

"What's wrong with his face?" asked Clarie.

It was the second runner that fascinated Ryley. She was young and quite petite with long unkempt red hair. As she ran Ryley was transfixed, he had never seen anyone quite like her before . So full of life and so very fast. Bullets flew passed her head but she paid not attention, in fact she was smiling like it was a summer afternoon and she was running away from her brother. Nothing seemed to be real for her, she existed in her own world free from worry.

Ryley asked, "Who do you think they?"
Claire replied, "Some derelicts probably don't even have arm coders. I don't know why I hate carrying cash, I prefer just having all my money written on my hand."
"Wouldn't it be great to be that free," quipped Ryley
"Your weird" Claire smiled.
Ryley watched the red head run on as their train began to move on, leaving her in the distance.

Short Script: Dead Tired

Scene 1

Claire: And why were you making that face when I told Joyce and Brent about what happened to me at work.

Ben: Because it was embarrassing

Claire: They're my friends I'm sure they don't care

Ben: And it was also boring

[Car pulls into park]

Claire: Oh and your story about how you once sold a pair of shoes to Jimmy Barnes is so much more compelling

Ben: Hey! We connected... he mentions me in his latest album

Claire: Oh name one song where he refers to anyone by the name of Ben

[They begin taking bags out of the boot]

Ben: Well... no great songwriter would mention anyone by name

Claire: Oh how convenient, don't forget to shut the boot

Ben: Yeah, yeah...

[They continue bickering while camera focuses on the open boot]

[Title Card]

Scene 2

[Ben opens the boot to discover a body with a head-shot wound]

Ben: Whoa

Claire: [Rolls eyes] What?

[Claire walks to the boot and looks down]

Claire: Whoa

[The couple close the boot and sit on the boot]

Claire: Ben

Ben: Yes?

Claire: Are you secretly killing people and stuffing them in our car boot at night?

Ben: No

Claire: Maybe he’s gone

Ben: Hmmm

[The couple re-opens the boot to discover the corpse is still there]

Claire: Ok we just hand it in to the nearest police station

Ben: What! This isn’t some lost handbag; you can’t just drop off something like this

Claire: We will just explain that you left our boot open and we came back to discover this body.

Ben: You want to drive to the police station with a dead body in the boot of the car and explain how we just found it there

Claire: Fine [Pause] we just have to get rid of it

Ben: How?

Claire: [Angrily] I don’t know we will just have to put him in the back and drive him someplace like we’re a Taxi service.

Ben: [Equally as angry] You can’t just prop him up in the back he has a hole straight through his head

Claire: Well… we will put a hat on him

[Transition to Ben and Claire staring down at the backseat]

Ben: Good?

Claire: The sombrero is a bit much

[Brief shot of the body wearing a sombrero]

Ben: Better?

[Brief shot of the body wearing a Fedora]

Claire: You know with that hat on he kinda looks like my father

Ben: Nah, he needs a whisky bottle in his hand

[Claire shoots Ben a Death Stare]

Scene 3

[We rejoin the couple driving]

Ben: [Slightly hysterical] What are we going to do?

Claire: Don't Panic!

Ben: [Very hysterical] Don't Panic, we have a dead body in the backseat and we've been around this round-about 5 times already

Claire: Then take the next left, do you want to get caught!

Ben: [Tearily] Don't yell at me

Claire: Don't you dare cry

Ben: I'm not its just a highly stressful environment

[They pass a Myer store]

Claire: You know with that hat he looks a lot like a mannequin

[The couple look at each other]

Scene 4

[The couple sneak into Myer and attempt to dress the body in the shop window]

Claire: This would never would have happened if you listened to me for once in your life

Ben: That's not true I always listen.... you said you liked the Cure so I bought you their greatest hits for Christmas

Claire: I said I liked the Clash, I hate the Cure

Ben: Oh come on what about Boys Don't Cry

Claire: Well judging from your performance in the car before clearly they do cry

Ben: Low blow

[A clerk walks over to re-dress the mannequins]

Clerk: Hey what are you doing?

Ben: Shit! It's the fashion police!

[They grab the corpse and run back to the car, quickly shoving the corpse on the backseat and driving off]

[The clerk stands still eventually walks to the phone]

Clerk: Yes security, someone just stole a mannequin

Scene 5

[The couple speed away]

Ben: Woah that was close

Claire: [Smiling] We've still got this stupid corpse though. [Looks back] Ben... where is the corpse

Ben: Frak! The fashion police must have got him

Claire: You didn't shut the door properly AGAIN! Pull over

[The corpse has fallen out of the car, down a hill and into the river]

[The couple make their way down to the river to discover the corpse floating]

Ben: Maybe if we throw a big enough rock on him, he will sink

Claire: That's just dumb enough to work

Scene 6

[We switch to two men in a parking lot]

Boss: So explain to me what you did with the body again?

Grunt: Well naturally after I whacked him I needed to move the body

Boss: Naturally

Grunt: So being board daylight I of course hid it as quickly as I could

Boss: Of course

Grunt: So I stuffed him in this car I found with an open boot, some people are so careless these days a thief could have stolen a number of items from their boot

Boss: See this is where your planning falls apart. WHERE IS THE FUCKING CAR?

Grunt: Well it's gone now

Boss: Why the fuck didn't stick around and watch it?

Grunt: I got thirsty

Boss: So how are we meant to retrieve this body?

Grunt: Oh I took down the rego I'm not a complete idiot

Boss: No just a dead one [Begins making a phone call]

Grunt: Who you calling?

Boss: Le Fixateur

Scene 7

[We return to the couple attempting to throw large rocks at the body]

Claire: This isn't working let's just fish him out

Ben: I've been thinking we should name him

Claire: Yeah I've started to grow attached to him

Ben: How about Fred?

Claire: That's a terrible name, thank god I'm never having children with you

Ben: Why not?

Claire: It's not really working out

[Ben looks visibly hurt]

Claire: Fred sounds fine

[Fred has been fished out of the river]

Claire: Let's take him home and dry him

[As they walk off Ben picks up a nice looking rock and puts it in his pocket]

Scene 8

[They dry the corpse off with hairdryers, which takes several hours]

Ben: What are we going to do we're running out of time?

Claire: [Smirking] There's a time limit? Fine let's just put him in the rubbish bin it

[The couple sneak the body out to the bins, it is now visibly dark]

Ben: Fred doesn't fit

Claire: Then let's cut him up until he fits

Ben: [Shocked] How could you even think of doing that to Fred?

Claire: [Angrily] Look... [Suddenly a taxi drops someone (Le Fixateur) off one the other side of the road]

[The couple look at each other and run to the taxi]

Ben: Mate can you drop our friend off he's had a bit too much to drink

Claire: Yeah he's 'dead' drunk

[Ben grabs her mouth]

Ben: No he's not dead anything... he's just drunk

Cab Driver: So where?

Ben: Where what?

Cab Driver: Where do you want me to take him? Where does he live?

Ben: Oh you know where ever, just surprise him

[Ben pays the cab driver and taxi along with Fred drives off]

Scene 9

[The couple walk back into their apartment to find a man looking through their CD collection, he sees them and points his gun at them]

Le Fixateur: Good evening I'm here to retrieve the body you stole from my benefactors

[Both put their hands up]

Claire: We got rid of the body so there's no need

Le Fixateur: Well that was awfully nice of you but I was contracted to get rid of three bodies and I hate to disappoint

Claire: Not fair

Ben: Claire... Monday you can fall apart, Tuesday Wednesday break my heart, Thursday doesn’t even start, It’s Friday I’m in love.

Claire: Wow that was actually kind of romantic

Le Fixateur: Are you kidding me, he stole those lines from a Cure song? Look you even own the album [Starts searching through the CD's]

[Ben uses this opportunity to throw the rock from the river at his head. Killing him stone dead]

[Both walk towards the body and bend down]

Claire: [Both look at each other] I'll call a cab

[End]

Story to Music: An entirely different dream

"Write no more", Quinton thought to himself. "It’s all been said before and said better." His eyelids had grown too tried to support themselves as all he longed for now was rest. It was all there in front of him, his entire life on paper. All his triumphs and his failures in one document for posterity. He tried to drink but the moment the water touched his mouth he keeled over in pain. He didn’t bother reaching for his pills it had been a long time since they had helped; if in fact they had ever helped him had now become a distance memory. Determined to press on Quinton put pen to paper one last time to write one last sentence that had some kind of deep meaning. Something that could sum up his entire life in one statement. He closed his eyes and dreamt about his youth, everything that had come before the pain and for a split second he had trouble returning to the present. He was so young back then, so handsome and like so many young men he was so very arrogant. He imagined himself sitting on the pavement, basking in the spring sun. Nothing ever bothered him in his youth, he missed that feeling. The air swirled around him and for he briefly felt content. And at that moment he wrote that last sentence which eluded him for all those years. With his story completed he stumbled to his bed, allowed his eyelids to close and dreamt an entirely different dream all together. You are probably asking yourself what his last line was; the line that summed up his entire existence, then I will tell you since to leave you hanging would be cruel. It was a simple phase, “Better luck next time,” but then he was a man of simple tastes.

Now for something completely different!

Tegan and I have decided to do something different this week and write individual scenes to the same story. Here is a quick summary of the universe:

In the year 2535, humanity is caught in a brutal civil war. Five years earlier the Terran Union outlawed using the benign Bren race as a source of slave labour in favour of sentient machines. The Union's colonies did not appreciate this move and ceded to form the The United Free Colonies.
_____________________________________________________

And here's my scene from the script:

Int. Doctor's Surgery

[Laura stumbles in to the surgery cradling her arm writhing in pain. Saul looks up from his current patient and his eyes are drawn to Laura standing in the doorway. He nods to the nurse to take over as he walks towards the doorway.]

Saul

What happened?

Laura

I tried to light a cigarette while trying to land my bird single handed

Saul

Well at least you have your priorities straight. I'm Doctor Curtis please take a bed Lieutenant I'll be with you as soon as I can.

[Saul turns away]

Laura

That's your title. What's your real name?

Saul

Saul, yours?

Laura

Laura

Saul

Nice to meet you, can I get back to doctoring

Laura

You don't like patients much do you?

Saul

I love them it's the healthy ones I can't stand

Laura

Do you have cigarette?

Saul

I'm a doctor

Laura

You didn't answer my question

[Saul takes out two cigarettes from his coat. He lights both in his mouth and gives one to Laura.]

Saul

Feel better now

[Saul returns to his other patient with a cigarette in his mouth.]

Nurse

Sir you can't smoke near a patient

[Saul begins to cut into the patient.]

Saul

I don't think the cigarette is going to kill our patient

Insercurity Insight

As the man stepped up to the podium all he could think about was lump in his throat. He stood on the podium looking down at the sea of people in front of him. As his insecurity rose his mind started inventing the most absurd thoughts. People would become bored and talk amongst each themselves, his father would rise from the crowd to publicly disown him, or worse people would like his speech and demand a follow up. The man realised he had been staring at the crowd for too long silently. He could feel their eyes searching his face for any imperfection and judging him accordingly. His mouth became dry as he felt himself literally shrinking as the entire crowd grew larger. The pause continued becoming more and more awkward soon it would consume the entire room and everyone in it. One giant bubble of awkwardness threatening his entire existence if he did not say something now all would be lost. So he did and as he did it all flowed through him and as he stepped down he thought to himself, “That was fun.”

More idols than realities

The iPhone itself is a convergence device, at it's factory settings the iPhone is not only a phone but a calendar, email device, iPod, video player, gaming machine, and a sub-par GPS. With a recent update Apple added a horizontal keyboard which now allows me to type out ideas and store them while I'm out and about.


If the iPhone had a more robust document application and a more streamlined to get text files off the iPhone and on top a computer, the iPhone could replace my laptop as my main scriptwriting device. Some of my friends even use the iPhone to play movies on their TV in lieu of a dvd player, personally I can't afford the $90 cables to make my iPhone work with my TV.

The iPhone as a convergence device isn't perfect, the keyboard is still too small for long writing sessions, 3G is too slowly and inconsistent for real internet use/gps and the touch screen isn't always precise (works 90% of the time). Although it is a step in the right direction and is miles ahead of it's competition on intergation. It's main advantage is how Apple has turned the iPhone into a open platform through the App store which allows 3rd parties to help shape the iPhone's direction.

Motivation to write this blog

Motivation to Play is an article that breaks down the reason why people play certain video games into 12 main factors. I decided to test the questionnaire on a self-proclaimed game addict Rebecca Ambrose.

Sample Questions:

1) How much do you enjoy being the leader of a group?
A) Not at all

2) How often do you take charge of things when playing in a role-playing group?
A) Don't like taking charge

3) How important is it to you that your character has unique skills and abilities that the other characters in the group do not possess?
A) Important

4) Socializing with the other players?
A) Hate it

5) Planning and executing tactical strategies and plans?
A) Good

6) To create stories of individual character rather that of the entire group?
A) No

7) Prioritize character interaction rather than combat?
A) Not often

8) How important is it to you that you play a character that is central to the game story?
A) Not at all

9) How important is it to you that you play a character that has a large impact on the fictional world of the game? (e.g. saves or dooms it)?
A) Very Important

10) How important is it to you that you can customize the appearance of your character clothing, armor and similar?
A) Bonus

While going through the questionnaire we found that without a point of reference some of the question we're too vague to make much sense and in some cases didn't seem relevant. An online RPG rarely contains a story they are played for their social interaction and so question about story development don't seem relevant. Since there are some many different variations on the RPG formula, the study should have focused on one game or one type of rpg to avoid confusion in the respondents.

A Million pixels for a million idiots

The million dollar homepage is a reflection of a new trend that is sweeping the internet called micro-transactions. When the iPhone app store was first unleashed on the world (11 of July, 2008) many experts scoffed at the idea that anyone would purchase such truly terrible 99 cent games and applications. By the 23rd of April 2009 a billion applications had been sold and by September 2009 over 1.8 billion applications had been sold. The experts believed since consumers are so carefull and picky when they buy full priced$100 games that this would mean death to iFart and a million other bad ideas turned into applications. But the less money involved in the purchase the more carefree (more stupid) the customer is with his or her money. Many people applications were bought on a whim since 99 cents seems like a trifle amount but when 1 million people buy a million 99 cents applications, the money begins to roll in for developers. The same logic applies to the million dollar homepage where the consumer was happy to fork out such a small amount for invisible real estate. Especially since the micro-transaction is electronic people don't have to physically watch their dollar leave their possession, it's just a number on bank balance screen.

An off-shoot of micro-payments is the development of micro-currencies. Micro-currency is a kind of virtual currency that is purchased in bulk, frequently with greater discounts for larger purchases. The currency is then spent, in a separate transaction, on whatever items are available for purchase. For example Microsoft's Xbox Online Marketplace uses Microsoft-Points instead of dollars. A user buys the points using their credit card ($10 = 800 Points) up front and then spends the points at a later date. The (evil) advantage of this process is that even if a customer doesn't buy anything they have already bought the non-refundable points.

Story to Music: Celebration

We enter as a group of women are arguing in a large hall. Each one of them are related to a man of importance in different ways his wife proud and ambitious, his mother full verve and venom and his sister who has simply resigned to her fate. Each one wishes to led the others out of the hall and out into the parade. After much discussion the mother takes the led as the doors open to reveal the city streets are covered with cheering crowds. The women walks down the path lined with a sea of onlookers and take their seats upon the podium. The crowd begin to jeer as actors portraying the man's rivals walk down the path wearing monstrous masks to represent their failings. The first one with the head of a goat represent his father who believed men should not be ruled by one man, the next two who have dog masks are his younger brothers who foolish believed they could all share power together. The animal like masks please the man's wife but the mother and the sister turn away in discuss as they realize what they have lost. Finally the man steps out from his his fortress into the city surrounded by his screaming people. He waves at them as throw rose at his feet, since the deaths of his rivals all opposition has washed away and all that remains is acceptance. As the man approaches his throne he smiles to himself content in knowing he had achieved his life long ambitions. He sits down on his throne for the first time as the crowd yells, "Savior," "hero," "leader." Another word springs to mind, "Tyrant".

The Big Red Button of Interactivity

Article 1: Fox to Air Twitter-Enhanced Re-Runs of "Fringe" and "Glee"

Personally I think this is more of a gimmick or tie-in than an actual improvement. It's seems rather jarring to have part of your screen taken up with a twitter feed especially when your trying to absorb the story. Maybe if each show housed the text in boxes that had a similar colour palette to the show. Twitter's bright blue and white colour scheme against the subdued colours of Fringe would be distracting. Plus I prefer to watch a show for the first time without director's commentary and then on later viewing find out about the tidbits. Perhaps they could had a Q&A after the show has aired not during.

Article 2: BBC Unveils its Red-Button Interactive TV Schedule for the Coming Weeks

BBC recently unleashed the Red-Button on it's unsuspecting viewers as a new level of interactivity. The problem is it doesn't seem to amount to a lot of actually interacting. The Proms in the Park concert could be viewed from different camera angles and you could take a quiz while watching Doctor Who but neither option seems that compelling. While the quiz would be distracting and would actually detract from the show, the different camera shots might be interesting in a scripted drama. For example during an intense scene the viewer can switch between cameras to see how each character is responding to what they are seeing and hearing.

In my opinion both of these options are very poor attempts at interactivity. Neither option allows the user to interact with the narrative (the main reason we watch TV) in any meaningful way. Both options seemed to be sticky taped on to existing show rather than starting with interactivity and building up from there.

Deep End

The Myth of the Ergodic Videogame by James Newman discusses his belief that games are not an interactive medium, which I do not agree with. My problem is not with his conclusion but with his choice of evidence. First problem is with his first choice of the game Star Fox 64. This game was created on the cuspid of the 3D game revolution (1997) and so Nintendo did not take too many risks with their new platform, the Nintendo 64 and decided to remake Star Fox (1993) in 3D. The end result was Star Fox 64, a game with a 20 year old approach to game design.

This is the main problem with the entire article, James has selectively chosen games that are known more for their narrative or a single game mechanic rather than their interactive qualities. Despite writing this article in July 2002, James seems intent on discussing games that are five years old. In some cases the games appeared on last generation consoles. These points weaken his argument and make him come across as a man with only cursory knowledge of game design.

My Five Minute Story

Aaron stood in the rain soaking to death, he had long forgotten why he was standing but was compelled to walk forward to the door. As he approached the door his hands began to tremble with anticipation. Slowly he turned the door knob and the door creaked open letting in a blazingly cold wind. He did not try to dry himself or take off his coat, Aaron just walk forward towards the kitchen. A woman was sitting at the table reading a magazine, Aaron slowly snuck behind her. He lifted his hand and touched her on the shoulder and whispered, “Honey I forget the milk.”