Now For Something Completely Different

I have taken on the exciting task of writing for a blog series, the main theme concerning continuing a story and tacking on songs. I sure hope my submissions will be good enough. This idea came fro Absolute Write, a lovely forum to chat and have fun on.

The participants and articles before me are:

The Beginning
Second Page, from nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com
Third Page, from bigwords88.wordpress.com
Fourth Page stainedglassinthenight.wordpress.com
Fifth Page, from ralfast.wordpress.com
Sixth Page, from hillaryjacques.blogspot.com
Seventh Page, from dustinbishop.wordpress.com
Eighth Page, from matrix-hole.blogspot.com
Ninth Page, from blog.dianarajchel.com
Tenth Page, from drlong67.wordpress.com

The growling voice of hatred cut through the thick fog of music to a single sleeping boy's mind. He lifted his heavy head, covering his ears even though they were already covered by top-of-the-line, noise-cancelling and bass-boosting headphones. The young adolescent smiled suddenly, sitting up from his room, past his sleeping parents and into the kitchen. There he took the largest blade he could find, and his father's trusty gun. Playing with the cold metal in his fingers, he pressed it to his temple and snickered quietly as if there was some kind of joke to be had from suicide. Slipping both gun and knife into his pockets, he left to hunt and answer the calls for justice of the disrespected dead.

Chris seemed confused a moment, curious as to what this obviously drunken woman wanted from him. Nevertheless, he stayed by her side, hoping for a chance of company tonight and also to make sure she would not be ending up dead. A pretty face and a better body did not deserve the poisonous clutches of alcohol, regardless of whether or not it gave him the chances further to make his night worthwhile. The note slipped from his mind with the music and the booze foggying over his judgment. He kissed the stranger, drunk off his mind and seeking a way to escape himself.

Willow was stuck playing baby sitter to a child who could not sleep, porcelain face streaked with tears. There were no words he could offer of comfort, nothing he could say. Hell, he never liked kids to begin with. He set the girl to bed some time ago, but could still hear her soft sniffling, trying to hide her sadness and shock by being as quiet as she could. For a moment his heart went out to the girl, and he stood to move to her and just try to be there for her, when he heard the odd creaking of footsteps and muffled music one would hear from an annoying git who played his heavy techno music too loud. The only warning he got was a click. His eyes trailed down to the gaping hole that was his chest, a crater that once held life. Then, his skull shattered as another bullet pierced his brain, slicing up soft, giving tissue with force alone. He mouthed the name of the girl once, the beginning of what may have been 'Clarissa, run' but never quite made it that far.

Clarissa woke to the sound of music, loud and encompassing, encouraging all who listened to fall into the trance of beat and flow and never awaken again. She shivered in a fear she could not understand. The darkness gave no caution to the hands that wrapped around her neck. She tried to scream, but could not inhale to let out her yell. Her wide eyes stared into tired ones, of a boy who looked like he had not slept in years. His face was comically framed by huge disks on each side of his head, his jaw slack and tongue lolling out, giving the impression of some kind of doggy smile.

But so much worse.

The world glinted silver with the metal on the assaulter's head and white with teeth and saliva's reflection of light. The last thing Clarissa felt was the music.

The boy let go as soon as the girl fell into unconsciousness, just as was ordered. He did not bother to check if the man he killed was really dead, that was not his concern. The ghostly voice that cut through the beats of his music spoke again, demanding even more vengeance, and to use the girl to embark even more suffering on the world. He nodded to the darkness and picked up the girl, sneaking outwards and to the nearby party as directed. They all would pay, and then maybe he could get some peace to his music. Something told him he would be pulling yet another all nighter tonight.

Greg heard gunfire and a scuffle. His casual pace back to check up on his cop friend quickened to a pace. By the time he arrived he was too late by far too long. Willow was bathing in his own blood, Clarissa was gone, and there were no signs of life. His eyes narrowed. Spanky. The cop turned and began to dash his way back.

Nothing is Sacred

Sometimes, a person will put down a book and sigh, frustrated. A hushed mutter under their breath speaks volumes of whatever line the story has crossed with them. "Is nothing sacred?" They wonder, hissing it out between teeth and clenched jaw.

Hell yes, nothing is sacred. That is the beauty of art.

This applies as well for games. Many lines are crossed in video games. Suddenly the pope is an evil, arrogant old coot (Assassin's Creed II) or there's a young manchild whose's desire to meet with his mother must be crushed, along with the remnants of his life (Silent Hill 4). Some may gasp in horror at the audacity of these games, but you know I think that lines must be crossed if we want to really strike the core of humanity, who we are without the structures of morality and structured society.

In fact, I think I'll go so far as to say it with a smile that no concept is too horrifying or too immoral for artwork to come over. Lines must be crossed if we are to describe who we are, these lines are more like caution signs to our hearts and souls. We must pass them to show who we are behind the yellow tape of society we have established to protect ourselves. In the right way, torture, rape,  murder, even human trafficking in the right example can show the darker side of who we are and how to overcome it. We should not run from the darker side of ourselves, but face, accept, and conquer it.

Regards,
Sullivan

Cliches Aren't Bad

Archetypes and cliches aren't bad. A story full of them doesn't mean its bad. All it takes is some creativity to perceive the archetype differently, and it becomes a whole new story. Many themes in visual novels and japanese anime take these differing perceptions to turn a normally bland or shallow story into one with so much meaning it takes an entire nation by storm. I haven't really seen this deconstruction in western medias, instead I see a grimdark horizon coming along, taking archetypes and trying to make them darker and edgier. The only things I seem to find that take the whimsical, maybe-things-aren't-as-they-seem approach to archetypes would be Tim Burton's movies, and even they seem somehow off the mark of what I'm looking for.

This used to be a magical girl.

I'm not one for darker and edgier everything, to be honest I prefer a much more whimsical approach to traditional stories. Take the anime Puella Magi Madoka Magica, a very beloved anime in japan. It has only spanned 12 episodes purely about magical girls trying to solve the world with their hope, but somehow it has broken records for popularity. Why is this? Simply put, it is a deconstruction of magical girls, taking the archetype and twisting it so that suddenly, even though the core of the archetype hasn't changed, the situation has and a story about a girls trying to give the world hope suddenly becomes fruitless, depressing, and a warning that we all must find joy in ourselves, lest we spit in the faces of the girls who gave their lives for our joy. This lesson hit so hard only because of how familiar the concept of a magical girl was to the Japanese society. It would not work with the same emphasis in another nation.

In short, I don't think that darker and edgier is the way to go, I think it'll just devolve to violence on violence and 'scary' things. I think that if we took a very common archetype and constructed it perfect, then deconstruct it so thoroughly it changes one's view on that archetype forever, it could potentially be a very successful piece of work. I just hope something like this happens soon,  I have a feeling it would be a brilliant way in introducing a new take on how to make old things fresh again.

Regards,
Sullivan

Hello there...

Well, this is my blog. I figured I may as well make one, to organize my thoughts and to write down my daily life or so. I am certain a good many of you will simply not care, but at least a few may be interested in the rantings of a writer with too much in his mind.

When I'm not asleep, I am usually writing, be it roleplay or freeform. I enjoy lurking in writer's forums, and just about anywhere else. Occasionally I'll post a few aspects of interest to me, mostly I'll just write random things that may or may not be useless, depending on what your interest is. I'll also post and review some less-known games, things that touch the inner spirit within us.

I spend my time asleep, mostly. You see, my dreams are fairly real- in fact, a little more real that I see reality as real. I'll write my dreams here from time to time...

Regards,
Sullivan
I'm a little tired now, I think I will soon rest...

Regards,

Soulless