Saturday, February 2, 2013
Friday, February 1, 2013
Writing a narrative for a game that doesn't have one:
Game & Watch Narrative
“FIRE”
Alex Cunningham
Meet Freddy. An twenty-three year old high school dropout in Suburbia USA. He lives in the garage of his father’s house, where he spends his days rotating between FPS clan warfare, internet porn, and working out his abs, chest and shoulders exclusively on a rusty old bench press and pull up bar he picked up from the street. The days he is not working his shift at the gas station are a haze fuelled by weed, protein powder and energy drinks. Actually, all his days are like that. He must climb the leaderboard! He insists he’s not a nerd, after all he has to “stay cut for the bitches”. He hasn’t gone on a date in over a year.
His workaholic father manages a cell phone store in the city. His navy blue polos always tightly tucked into his khakis. He displays a gaudy red and gold pin of a fire hat on his chest. To find love after his wife left, he decided to become a volunteer firefighter. Chicks dig firefighters. He has yet to answer a call in the five years since signing up, yet a brick of a pager is always on his belt, holstered and charged, ready for action. The trunk of his Explorer never has room for anything other than his pristine firefighting gear. The fact that he’s a bald, out of shape, middle-aged man hasn’t hindered him forming his new identity one bit.
After his wife’s departure, Freddy Senior turned the house into a “Swag Pad”, complete with a short “fire pole” in the middle of the living room, furry couches and party lights on one of those aluminum rail trusses. Needless to say, Junior’s move from his room into the garage wasn’t a difficult one.
Enter the Ford Explorer, on a typical day. Senior’s dropping Junior off at the gas station on his way to work.
“Dad, why do you insist on wearing that stupid beeper and badge everywhere?” His father sits up a little straighter.
“Son, a firefighter must always be ready for a call, lives are at stake here!”
“Cmon, not like you ever answered a call.”
“We are blessed to live in a safe city, but a fireman must be ever vigilant.” He says authoritatively while he pulls the lower band of the seatbelt out from under his belly roll.
“Riiight, yet you bitch about how much money you’re spending on gas all the time.” Freddy stares out of the window, frustrated and tired from an all-nighter of gaming, not particularly motivated for his shit clerk job. Looking back, bored, he sees the towering pile of duffel bags in the trunk.
“Why the fuungh.. do you need two sets of gear?” He shouts, startling his father who was happily humming to muted radio music.
“One suit may get damaged in a rescue. What if there is another call the same day? And watch your fucking language!
“... and still, you never had a call. Don’t you feel like Jim let you sign up out of pity?”
“WHAT?”
The SUV swerves a little, to be immediately answered with a horn. A heated argument proceeds between the two. They miss a subtle buzzing sound, growing louder with every ring.
“DAD! SHUT UP! YOUR PAGER!”
“HOW dare y... oh” He looks down at the flashing buzzing box, bewildered. He pulls over to unclip it and reads it. He taps his bluetooth earpiece;
“Risi. navigate. 4th street and Washington.” He reaches over to glove compartment and pulls out a magnetic siren and light gadget that he sticks on the roof of the car. Freddy rolls his eyes. Dad tries to plug the power cord into the center console. Clumsily, he manages to thread the coiled cord through gear shifter, hand brake and cigarette lighter. Once the siren starts blaring, he cuts back into traffic among tire squeals and horns.
The SUV weaves through thick traffic, honking its way through safety lanes and disgruntled commuters. They pass a squad car, where the cops inside stare back, perplexed at the vigor with which Freddy Sr. drives.
The Freddys arrive at the scene, a multistory building with smoke pouring out of it. A team of Paramedics has beat them there, but can’t do anything. All exits to the buildings are mysteriously blocked by inconveniently parked armored trucks! Oh No! They have all been vandalized and can’t be moved! No one can get in or out of the building by foot! With thick traffic, the real firefighters with their big shiny trucks, with their water pumps and ladders won’t be here for a while!
Volunteer Firefighter Fred and his slacker son are here to the rescue! They are already wearing their red fireman hats as they step out of the car. They unload the trunk, laying out all the gear. They conclude that they won’t be needing any of the fire axes, gas masks, fire suits or flashlights they brought.
The people in the building are threatening to jump! They need something to catch the suicidal fools!
What say you? There’s a trampoline in the neighbor’s front yard across the street?
Gameplay
Voice-overs / gameplay chatter
Whoa he bounced real high there..
Quick! We’re going to miss the rebound
Phewww!
Stop jumping people!
The Fire Truck will be here any minute!
You people are crazy!
...Is he enjoying this?
Not all at once!
How the hell are they ok landing in the ambulance like that?
Watch out!
Miscellaneous grunts of fear and relief, etc...
Ending
After a considerable level has been reached, having trampoline-saved hundred of people, a cutscene starts:
We see a reverse of the scene, revealing a large poofy catch pillow hidden behind the ambulance. The jumpers, running around the block through an open back door the Freddys missed, are coming back for second turns at jumping. The camera follows one jumper into the top story, where several smoke machines are daisy-chained together bellowing large smoke clouds out of the window.
Meet Freddy. An twenty-three year old high school dropout in Suburbia USA. He lives in the garage of his father’s house, where he spends his days rotating between FPS clan warfare, internet porn, and working out his abs, chest and shoulders exclusively on a rusty old bench press and pull up bar he picked up from the street. The days he is not working his shift at the gas station are a haze fuelled by weed, protein powder and energy drinks. Actually, all his days are like that. He must climb the leaderboard! He insists he’s not a nerd, after all he has to “stay cut for the bitches”. He hasn’t gone on a date in over a year.
His workaholic father manages a cell phone store in the city. His navy blue polos always tightly tucked into his khakis. He displays a gaudy red and gold pin of a fire hat on his chest. To find love after his wife left, he decided to become a volunteer firefighter. Chicks dig firefighters. He has yet to answer a call in the five years since signing up, yet a brick of a pager is always on his belt, holstered and charged, ready for action. The trunk of his Explorer never has room for anything other than his pristine firefighting gear. The fact that he’s a bald, out of shape, middle-aged man hasn’t hindered him forming his new identity one bit.
After his wife’s departure, Freddy Senior turned the house into a “Swag Pad”, complete with a short “fire pole” in the middle of the living room, furry couches and party lights on one of those aluminum rail trusses. Needless to say, Junior’s move from his room into the garage wasn’t a difficult one.
Enter the Ford Explorer, on a typical day. Senior’s dropping Junior off at the gas station on his way to work.
“Dad, why do you insist on wearing that stupid beeper and badge everywhere?” His father sits up a little straighter.
“Son, a firefighter must always be ready for a call, lives are at stake here!”
“Cmon, not like you ever answered a call.”
“We are blessed to live in a safe city, but a fireman must be ever vigilant.” He says authoritatively while he pulls the lower band of the seatbelt out from under his belly roll.
“Riiight, yet you bitch about how much money you’re spending on gas all the time.” Freddy stares out of the window, frustrated and tired from an all-nighter of gaming, not particularly motivated for his shit clerk job. Looking back, bored, he sees the towering pile of duffel bags in the trunk.
“Why the fuungh.. do you need two sets of gear?” He shouts, startling his father who was happily humming to muted radio music.
“One suit may get damaged in a rescue. What if there is another call the same day? And watch your fucking language!
“... and still, you never had a call. Don’t you feel like Jim let you sign up out of pity?”
“WHAT?”
The SUV swerves a little, to be immediately answered with a horn. A heated argument proceeds between the two. They miss a subtle buzzing sound, growing louder with every ring.
“DAD! SHUT UP! YOUR PAGER!”
“HOW dare y... oh” He looks down at the flashing buzzing box, bewildered. He pulls over to unclip it and reads it. He taps his bluetooth earpiece;
“Risi. navigate. 4th street and Washington.” He reaches over to glove compartment and pulls out a magnetic siren and light gadget that he sticks on the roof of the car. Freddy rolls his eyes. Dad tries to plug the power cord into the center console. Clumsily, he manages to thread the coiled cord through gear shifter, hand brake and cigarette lighter. Once the siren starts blaring, he cuts back into traffic among tire squeals and horns.
The SUV weaves through thick traffic, honking its way through safety lanes and disgruntled commuters. They pass a squad car, where the cops inside stare back, perplexed at the vigor with which Freddy Sr. drives.
The Freddys arrive at the scene, a multistory building with smoke pouring out of it. A team of Paramedics has beat them there, but can’t do anything. All exits to the buildings are mysteriously blocked by inconveniently parked armored trucks! Oh No! They have all been vandalized and can’t be moved! No one can get in or out of the building by foot! With thick traffic, the real firefighters with their big shiny trucks, with their water pumps and ladders won’t be here for a while!
Volunteer Firefighter Fred and his slacker son are here to the rescue! They are already wearing their red fireman hats as they step out of the car. They unload the trunk, laying out all the gear. They conclude that they won’t be needing any of the fire axes, gas masks, fire suits or flashlights they brought.
The people in the building are threatening to jump! They need something to catch the suicidal fools!
What say you? There’s a trampoline in the neighbor’s front yard across the street?
Gameplay
Voice-overs / gameplay chatter
Whoa he bounced real high there..
Quick! We’re going to miss the rebound
Phewww!
Stop jumping people!
The Fire Truck will be here any minute!
You people are crazy!
...Is he enjoying this?
Not all at once!
How the hell are they ok landing in the ambulance like that?
Watch out!
Miscellaneous grunts of fear and relief, etc...
Ending
After a considerable level has been reached, having trampoline-saved hundred of people, a cutscene starts:
We see a reverse of the scene, revealing a large poofy catch pillow hidden behind the ambulance. The jumpers, running around the block through an open back door the Freddys missed, are coming back for second turns at jumping. The camera follows one jumper into the top story, where several smoke machines are daisy-chained together bellowing large smoke clouds out of the window.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
