So, the story is set within the universe of an old (but good) computer game called StarCraft. Tell me if you liked it. Feedback is definitely welcome, and sorry for any spelling errors (if you find any).
âAttention! Attention! Atten-â The rest was cut short by another attack of static on the loudspeakers. But it was enough to inform Chris. âAttentionâ was always followed by an order to scramble fighters. He signaled Team Echo, to get to their CF/A-17 âWraithâ Fighters. He turned around and headed toward Jonathan. Jon was his fighter, his Wraith. Chris and Jon had come out of 21 battles together, sometimes keeping each other alive â" barely. â-Ramble all fighters. Repeat, scramble all fighters.â The speakers seemed to work now. He picked up his pace. He got inside the cockpit, evidently late now, because there was chatter on the radio. He picked up the headset and set it overtop of his head. He was proud, that his men had disciplined themselves to do the flight check by themselv- âSo then I says to George, looks more like your mothe-â Chris sighed. Okay, not that much discipline. He spoke into the radio. ââThought this channel was for the flight check, boys.â âUhâ¦Well, thatâs whaâ we were doinâ, sir.â âRight.â Chris checked Jonâs engine, flashed his light green. 3 others blazed green along with him. Another voice came over the radio. âWraith Team Echo 271 cleared for liftoff. Good huntinâ boys.â Chris turned and looked back to the hangar. He saluted, unsure to exactly who, but it was a ritual. He was positive someone felt special because of it. Suddenly, he felt the ship launching, clawing for air. The bay doors opened and he was launched into the dark abyss
Alfred Fawron was alone in the commanderâs room, his room, aside from the steady ticking of the wall-mounted clock. He had a perfect view of the barrenness of space. Four Wraith fighters launched, briefly obscuring from view Tarsonis Orbital Defense platform 28563. âGodspeedâ, Alfred whispered. He cracked a smile and poured himself a glass of wine. The smile began to waver and a snicker erupted into the almost-silent room. He settled down on his favourite chair and watched the A-17 fighters gradually become smaller. Another snicker exploded. âDonât think I donât knowâ, Alfred said. He took a control panel from his desk. Four buttons sat on it, waiting to be pressed. âCanât hide it from me!â he yelled, and slammed his hand down on the first button. An explosion showed up on the black canvas that was space, white against black. Two explosions, a third. Alarms sounded on the ship. He hit the fourth button and turned away, before he could see the detonation of Jonathan. He stepped out of the room, coolly sipping his wine.
"Attention! Attention! Atten-" The rest was cut short by another attack of static on the loudspeakers. But it was enough to inform Chris. "Attention" was always followed by an order to scramble fighters. He signaled Team Echo, to get to their CF/A-17 "Wraith" Fighters. He turned around and headed toward Jonathan. Jon was his fighter, his Wraith. Chris and Jon had come out of 21 battles together, sometimes keeping each other alive â" barely. "-Ramble all fighters. Repeat, scramble all fighters." The speakers seemed to work now. He picked up his pace. He got inside the cockpit, evidently late now, because there was chatter on the radio. He picked up the headset and set it overtop of his head. He was proud, that his men had disciplined themselves to do the flight check by themselv- "So then I says to George, looks more like your mothe-" Chris sighed. Okay, not that much discipline. He spoke into the radio. "'Thought this channel was for the flight check, boys." "Uhâ¦Well, that's wha' we were doin', sir." "Right." Chris checked Jon's engine, flashed his light green. 3 others blazed green along with him. Another voice came over the radio. "Wraith Team Echo 271 cleared for liftoff. Good huntin' boys." Chris turned and looked back to the hangar. He saluted, unsure to exactly who, but it was a ritual. He was positive someone felt special because of it. Suddenly, he felt the ship launching, clawing for air. The bay doors opened and he was launched into the dark abyss
Alfred Fawron was alone in the commander's room, his room, aside from the steady ticking of the wall-mounted clock. He had a perfect view of the barrenness of space. Four Wraith fighters launched, briefly obscuring from view Tarsonis Orbital Defense platform 28563. "Godspeed", Alfred whispered. He cracked a smile and poured himself a glass of wine. The smile began to waver and a snicker erupted into the almost-silent room. He settled down on his favourite chair and watched the A-17 fighters gradually become smaller. Another snicker exploded. "Don't think I don't know", Alfred said. He took a control panel from his desk. Four buttons sat on it, waiting to be pressed. "Can't hide it from me!" he yelled, and slammed his hand down on the first button. An explosion showed up on the black canvas that was space, white against black. Two explosions, a third. Alarms sounded on the ship. He hit the fourth button and turned away, before he could see the detonation of Jonathan. He stepped out of the room, coolly sipping his wine.
You can probably cut out a few things. The important thing is to streamline action so that it does not drag. One way is by not using a passive voice.
Was is passive. Passive is not active. Not active in an active sequence does not work. --> Was in an active sequence does not work.
Compare:
"Attention! Attention! Atten-" The rest was cut short by another attack of static on the loudspeakers. But it was enough to inform Chris. "Attention" was always followed by an order to scramble fighters. He signaled Team Echo, to get to their CF/A-17 "Wraith" Fighters. He turned around and headed toward Jonathan. Jon was his fighter, his Wraith. Chris and Jon had come out of 21 battles together, sometimes keeping each other alive " barely.
"Attention! Attention! Atten-" Another attack of static on the loudspeakers cut the message short. "Attention" always preceded an order to scramble fighters. Chris signaled Team Echo, to get to their CF/A-17 "Wraith" Fighters. He turned around and headed toward Jonathan. Jon was his fighter, his Wraith. Chris and Jon had come out of 21 battles together, sometimes keeping each other alive " barely.
Another is by taking out the expository bits and weaving it into the narrative. Try saying blahblah with reference to so-and-so without saying "So-and-so was blahblah."
I love StarCraft. Just a question but are you including the races you know Terran, Protoss, and what was it... oh yeah Zerg. Are you gonna include those? Other than that great story. Keep it up.
It was okay. It wasn't the best thing out there, but I've seen worse. It reads a great deal like a fan-fiction and that was a big turn off, creative in it's own way but the idea just seems to ingrained in the star craft...I suggest breaking free and writing something you created from scratch.
