Hello everyone! I'm thinking about writing a story, long-ish short story or very short novel. I need some ideas, as I only have a vague idea of what it'll be about.
i'm thinking it will be set in the near future, possibly post-semi-apocalyptic, but that's as far as I've gotten. I need ideas for characters, settings etc.
If I have sufficient criteria, I'll write it here for you to enjoy!
Kol woke from yet another long, woeful sleep, at 11 am. He slipped out of bed and walked over to his wardrobe and selected his atire. It was his usual; Black cargo pants, multi-temp shirt, tactical casing over the sides of the shirt, and his long black coat which reached near his ankles and served to keep him both warm, dry or cool if need be. He then strode out of the room, clanged down the steps and reached the library, where a tall, slightly broad-shouldered man in a simple butlers uniform waited. "Breakfast, sir?" asked Gerard, Kol's good friend and close confidante and butler. "Yes Gerard, what's on the menu?" "Bacon, egg and a spot of lemon tea, with a finish of brandy, sir." They walked and talked and Kol seated himself at a large table in an opulent dining room, all deep red and brown and gold. "Excellent, Gerard, see to it." Gerard left him, and while he prepared the food, Kol set to polishing his gun, a revolver, chrome barrel and chambers, black rubber grip. Classy, but not too extravagant. Kol was up to cleaning the empty chambers when Gerard came back, carrying a silver tray piled with food, and waiter-balancing another tray which held a tea cup and teapot. "Breakfast is served, sir." Kol thanked Gerard and set to eating. Gerard went off into some other part of the house, his butler sense telling him that there was something to do. Kol finished his meal, and clapped his hands and said loudly but not too overtly; "Uh, Gerard. Brandy please." Gerard came back, a bit flustered. "So sorry, sir. I'm getting forgetful. I used to be so much more...organized" "Don't blame yourself. After this, take one of the Cassus 13s and go for a trip to town. Cool off. Relax. But first; Brandy." Gerard smiled. "Of course, sir"
I'm rather pleased with this last entry. Don't worry guys, the storyll get going soon. I'm just giving you a small insight as to how the characters, mainly Kol, think
Kol summoned his car from the depths of the garage, and sped off down the curving mountain roads, his car silent and sleek, and beautiful black blur weaving between the pines. The car reached the bottom of the twisting mountain road, and then Kol really got to have fun with the engine. He switched it to top gear, and his car shot down the long, straight road with the imposing shape in the distance. He made amazing time, as usual, and reached the city of Goryag 2 in 10 minutes, a trip that would've taken a normal car more than double that.
Goryag 2 is a sprawling, post-apocalyptic metropolis. It has towering buildings from an age past. It's streets are clean, kept so by both the usually less-than-good weather and also the inhabitants. The population is a wonderful 700,000, a testament to the old world. The city is a mix of hi-tech and old-world. Brass and copper wheels stand next to complicated, multi-colored control panels. There are wonderful bookshops, cafe's and streets, with a people so readily welcoming and wise, the previous age's people were imbeciles in comparison.
But Kol had business here. He drove to a small, petite cafe and got out, his coat swishing as he strode inside.
Kol picked a corner table. He could watch who came in, who went out, and the people already here. His "client" wasn't here yet. A waitress came round, and he asked for a espresso coffee. When she left, he quietly and secretly loaded his gun, and also put six bullets in a rubber holder for a quick reload. Always be prepared. The man he was meeting was a ganglord called Norris Evalglen, a notorious, slightly overweight jerk who lacked a care for human life. He was the one remaining head scumbag in the city. Kol had already killed the rest. Goryag 2 had no police force to speak of, Kol worked as detective and officer at the same time. He didn't get paid, he was self-sufficient, and not many people knew him in the city anyway. His money was earned much more easily. You'd be surprised how much you can find in the pockets of corpses. A man walked in. He was shortish, stocky and he wore a black suit. No tie, just dark cloth. He wore sunglasses so the only things to see on his face were his small nose and tight mouth. His hair was a bleached blond and spiky. He looked around the cafe, sighted Kol, and stared at him. Kol smiled, without humour, only menace. Satisfied, the man walked out, and came back with a fat man and a small troop of men behind him. The fat man sat at Kol's table. His face was paunchy and stupid-looking, but his eyes were beady, dark and alert. He stared at Kol, and said; "Good morning, Mister-" "Mellenhel, sir" "Mister Mellenhel. I trust you have what I want?" Kol patted his inner pocket, tapping the gun that lay within. "Right here" "Good. Now, seeing as you have asked for nothing in return, hand it over." Kol smiled, reached into his jacket and pulled out his revolver. He didn't pause, he simply shot Norris in the head. The roar of the gun filled the cafe. Norris was thrown backwards, his chair falling down. Someone screamed. The other men pulled out Ecclipe 12s, the best semi-autos on the market. Kol whirled in his chair, grabbing the back and throwing it at his assailants while his left arm opened up a series of armor panels, stopping any bullet that might be shot. The men grunted, and gunfire started to fill the air. Kol threw up a table, the shots pinging off the sturdy metal frame. As the men started to reload their guns, Kol whipped up and started firing. The gun roared and bucked in his hand, eager to cause more death, But Kol only had five shots left, and even with his skill and accuracy, he missed one man, leaving three left. Kol ducked underneath the table again, reloading his gun. before his attackers got their bearings, his gun was sending death flying around the place. Two more of Norris' men fell, dead before their bodies finished crumpling. The last man, also the first to walk in, dropped his gun and fled. Kol laughed, the cruel, mirthless laugh of someone who did a job ridiculously well. Corpses littered the rooms, lamps hung askew, and Norris' body lay before Kol. A job well done.
Arrgh, won't anyone comment? I feel like my hard work is being ignored. That last section took ages to plan and write. Although, the Forge is very inactive. But still, so many views but so little posters?
Goryag 2 is, to a point, an extremely creative city. The inhabitants have no use for a sad, depressing outlook on life, so they formed Goryag 2 from the ruins of the first Goryag, a city destroyed in the final attacks of the Centrifugal Control War. It is surrounded by flat, unyielding planes of grass, a pretty offset of the weapons used to destroy the first city. Goryag 2 has no mayor, it has a council, with no chairman, just someone to keep order. Since its creation, Goryag 2 has prospered and grown, its huge, semi-steampunk facade creating an aura of a time passed, a time before the rise of the Corporations and the oppressive Governments. The only bad points were the crime lords, vile men and women who sought the benefits of no law, dealing in drugs and weapons, killing indiscriminately. That is, they did that before Kol came. He wasn't known to them, he simply went under a pseudonym, making false deals, and when they came to meet him, he killed them and their entourage. With Norris dead, no crime lord remained. The city was safe.
But let's not ruin the horror of the times to come, shall we?
At the same time, high in the Swiss alps, Unorthodox Industries had been experimenting with a device that could teleport whole cities into space or, better yet, oblivion, come back and start again. Until the late Dr. Ellis failed, the project moved with frightening speed. Now, I know you guys think 'Phew. With Ellis dead, they can't continue' Wrong-o. Dr. Creed, Ellis' rival, had already perfected the device. Albeit, in a much more sinister manner. The device now had AI, thus could think and act according to its own will. That is why the 'Monolith' in the lab disappeared.
Kol waited a bit, standing in the remains of the cafe, before he set off to kill the last man. More fun when they have a small chance, thought Kol. When Kol got tired of waiting, he strode out of the cafe, looking up and down the street. The street in question was narrow, and small shops lined the sides, with the opposite side punctuated by a tavern with a bit of outdoor seating. A few people were seated at the tavern, early risers come for a shot of whiskey, but the main traffic were pedestrians on their way to work. There were a couple cars on the street, but none were coming besides. Kol spotted his quarry. The idiot had stopped at a phone booth, trying in vain to summon help. Kol ran straight at the man, a blade extending from his arm as he went. He reached his target and rammed the blade straight through the man's back. The man's chest arched upwards, the blade sticking from under his breastbone, covered in crimson blood. The man coughed, gargled something through a mouthful of blood, then Kol yanked out the sword, retracting it back into its sheath. His prey collapsed before him, crumpling in a heap. A couple people stared at Kol, shocked at his ruthlessness, but they knew a gang member when they saw one, and turned a blind eye to the matter. Kol walked back to his car, got in and rove off.
It's poorly written. It's choppy and saying that it's written quickly and you'll "come back to it" is a poor excuse. This is very two dimensional writing. I don't know if you want to get serious about writing, but if you do inspire yourself, don't ask for someone else's ideas. If you want to be a serious writer I suggest you start from scracth, develop your own story and write it. When you finish it then edit it, but before you finish it make sure you put some effort into it.
Never mind. Obviously my work is not up to your richer, sophisticated standards. Contrary to your belief, your criticism has not helped, in the least. Putting people down serves no purpose when your efforts are supposed to be on helping. And i'm coming back to it, i'm just tossing ideas around. Perhaps, Wolf, you might set your canine brain on what I've said, not what you have.
You asked me to critique your work. You did not give me anything else to go on. Now I'm sorry I offended you, however I don't see you attacking anyone else for being honest with you. If you do not like my opinions then ignore them, however, do not blame me when it was you who asked for them.
I only mean that good criticism needs a helping word after it, otherwise it's just insulting, not a worthless tip and doing the equivalent of repeating yourself. That's all.
