Despite my glee at the announcement of the multiplatform Heroes series presently in development, I must admit I was a little miffed, because it rather steals the thunder from my idea for The Gun Seller.
TGS is a great conspiracy story, one which involves both world finance and wolrld politics, to of the world's present hot buttons, which means that viewers can get caught up in the drama of it as if it were real. My idea is to augment the story within the TV show with a subscription SMS service and a series of websites.
The SMS service could send texts to subscribers with additional information about the goins-on of the various characters in the story, and for users in turn to send in their own theories about what's going on in the series.
Rather than a "show website" as is common with Tv shows, I plan to include several seperate sites, each of which connects with a different area of the show. For instance, one could link with the "Sword of Justice" group, another with the fake "Ministry of Defense", in addition to several conspiracy sites connected to the plot of the show. These highten the reality of the story, and can be used to gave extra information. They can also, with the use of message boards or even live chat, allow for the growth of a community around the show.
Though the book was written in 1996, before the days of such wondrous things as blogs, these are an easy and effective way for the characters to interact with the audience. As such, I can see both the show's main characters having blogs.
Finally, let's have some fun in the real world. I have an idea to place special clues in certain places within the real world which could lead viewers to deeper inside information, or even cash and prizes, though I think I prefer the former, as cash and prizes highlight the fact that the show is fiction.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Wk. 10 - Converga-wassa-?
Good grief, I am so very old-fashioned. I don't have an iPhone and have no particularly interesting, I don't Tweet and I barely, BARELY use Facebook.
My main issue with the iPhone is capacity. My 120GB iPod has only about 45GB left, and that shrinks with every new TV show I like or great movie I see. Frankly, I find it hard to get excited about an 8GB iPhone.
But far from that, I see my friends and the apps they have on their iPhones, and I see that the iPhone is in a kind of aloescence. To expand the analogy, when a new concept (particularly a piece of technology) is introduced, it's like a baby everyone wants to see it and "ooh" and "aww" at it and watch it grow and get better.
Then it enters its adolescence it becomes associated with stupid, even dangerous behaviour (i.e. Youtube) and no one really believes it will go anywhere. Finally, it emerges into adulthood (where Youtube is now) and everyone is surprised that after those rough years, it's ingeneous and handy to have around. Right now, the iPhone is great if you want to make lightsaber noises and play games, and even many of the useful apps (such as maps and directions) are available on regular mobile phones.
I guess eventually I'll have to hop on the bandwagon, but I will do so only when I have to, and until then I will shake my head in pompous self-righteousness at all the idiots around me discussing their "apps".
My main issue with the iPhone is capacity. My 120GB iPod has only about 45GB left, and that shrinks with every new TV show I like or great movie I see. Frankly, I find it hard to get excited about an 8GB iPhone.
But far from that, I see my friends and the apps they have on their iPhones, and I see that the iPhone is in a kind of aloescence. To expand the analogy, when a new concept (particularly a piece of technology) is introduced, it's like a baby everyone wants to see it and "ooh" and "aww" at it and watch it grow and get better.
Then it enters its adolescence it becomes associated with stupid, even dangerous behaviour (i.e. Youtube) and no one really believes it will go anywhere. Finally, it emerges into adulthood (where Youtube is now) and everyone is surprised that after those rough years, it's ingeneous and handy to have around. Right now, the iPhone is great if you want to make lightsaber noises and play games, and even many of the useful apps (such as maps and directions) are available on regular mobile phones.
I guess eventually I'll have to hop on the bandwagon, but I will do so only when I have to, and until then I will shake my head in pompous self-righteousness at all the idiots around me discussing their "apps".
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Wk. 9 - The Gun Seller
Here's the piece of writing. As mentioned in a previous blog, I'm basing my project on The Gun Seller, a novel by Hugh Laurie, turning it into a 10-12 part miniseries. This is adapted from the last couple of chapters. Obviously it's not formatted or even written for a screenplay, but anyway, here is is:
"I am here to save the world. Honestly. With my gun, with the grenades strapped to my belt, with my whacky army pants, I am here to save the world. I’m here because Morocco is the place to be; Casablanca, of all the bars in all the towns in all the world…yeah!
I came here to be a terrorist, to be An American, to be a patriot hating patriots – a mystery of an enigma – I came here not to break down the fabric that runs society, nor the banks that fund society; I came here to reinforce those wonderful ideals; commerce, capitalism, poor poorer and rich richer, all that jazz.
That’s why they sent me here. Yes, “they” sent me here. They are the bad men, the men in the shadows, the cigarette smoking men who lurk in darkness and add that something extra to conspiracy theories throughout the world. They aren’t just a conspiracy. “They” are real, but “They” are not who we think they are. They’re not government officials, secret societies, men in robes with terrible weapons. They’re bankers, financiers, stock market traders; they are goods manufacturers, short, fat, sweaty men in too-small suits; these are the men that rule the world.
And these are the man who sent me to sunny, sandy Casablanca to maintain the status quo – ironically by disrupting the status quo. Oh yes, you heard me. I’m the sacrificial lamb, so to speak. In gothic novels there was this glamorous bad guy, who was evil and wicked and charismatic (that’s me) and then at the end of the novel, he gets destroyed (that’s in an hour) and the forces of good (that’s “them”) triumph and everything is exactly the way it was before, but now everyone’s happier about it.
It’s an odd psychology, I know, but it’s the way the world works, on a grand scale at least. The only problem though, is I am a poor sacrificial lamb. I’m not wicked or evil; I’m not even that charismatic. What I am is a sap who fitted their needs well and who’s ended up here through coincidence and poor planning.
So we know what they think I’m here to do, but what am I really here to do? Ah, wouldn’t that be so grand, if I could tell you? But I’m not going to tell, so there! I didn’t tell Solomon, I didn’t tell Ronnie; I told Sarah, and Sarah ended up…well…She just ended up not being a good person to tell. So I’ll keep this one my little secret, at least until we see if it pans out the way I hope it will.
Ol’ Carlos is calling for me. Carlos, the heroic leader of the SWORD OF JUSTICE! It sounds like a battle cry from a bad cartoon, eh? Something that would be shouted by a man in spandex before the bad synthesizer music kicks in.
But Ricky doesn’t hate Carlos, Ricky loves Carlos. Not in that way, like in an idolise way. Carlos is standing up for all the things poor lil’ misguided Ricky believes in. Ricky is me, by the way; the name they gave me with the assignment. There was a real Ricky, but he…Yeah, so now I’m Ricky and Ricky loves Carlos and Ricky hates corporations, but according to “them” I love corporations, but really I don’t love corporations. It’s a very confusing business. It really is much like an onion, there are lots of layers, it gets very chopped up, and it often makes one cry.
There’s no sense in trying to explain it all; it’s mostly too convoluted for me, and I was the one who came up with the plan. All I’ll say is that one way or another, this will all end with a bang. Well, that’s saying rather more than I imagined. I mean, I suppose it could be a physical, or psychological or emotional or metaphysical bang; and even though we all know it’ll be physical, it could be a lot of different things making a bang. Bang on the door, bang on the floor, bang in the sky…the possibilities for banging during a hostage negotiation are really endless.
Yes, we have hostages. We have the biggest and brightest of the American Embassy here in sunny Casablanca, crowded in an office, eating strange bread with strange things to dip the bread in; drinking water provided by the hostage negotiation team, ironically better than any of the other water we’ve had here. Maybe they’re trying to make us too comfortable, to that we all take a collective nap, and then they can storm the building on their tippy-toes.
The ambassador is an nice man, not a business man or a prominent buddy of the U.S. president. A career politician; I imagine he’s earned the right to live in sunny Casablanca. But I don’t know, Ricky doesn’t know things, because it’s not his place to know things. Ricky is a good boy from Minnesota, who got tangled up with the wrong girl, then the wrong group, then the wrong side of the law.
There’s Ricky, cropping up in my mind again. Ricky, last known address: Hills. Somewhere. What a way to go out, last known address, somewhere. Tombstone: Here lies Ricky, someone, somewhere, some time. I feel bad for the kid.
I feel bad for all these guys. Saskia and Sofia and Stefan and even Benji, yeah Benji, who insists on calling me a “fucking fuck”, I even feel sorry for him. Because all these little chaps with their little ideologies aren’t really fulfilling their ideological ends. They’re the other charismatic lotharios and lothariettes, rounded up like so many usual suspects, given guns and a fancy, stupid name and sent out to do exactly what their cigarette smoking, bracket-named masters ordered.
There’s no getting out now. I already got out once; I don’t think anyone noticed. I had to knock Saskia out to do it, but I’m not sure she noticed either. Sarah, the last thing I’ll see of this world, before I enter a new world, of one kind or another. It’s not the sight I would have seen, had it been up to me. I lost my interest in that sight a long time ago, but it happened to be the sight that most fits the plan, and whom I don’t entirely mins giving up. I gave her my thing, she gave me hers, and hopefully we’re both on our way to our respective packages’ final destinations.
I’m on my way, but I don’t know about her; about Russel P. Barnes, about Graduate Studies. I don’t know about any of it and so I don’t trust any of it. Especially not Sarah."
Does cynical count as an emotion? I dunno that's what I see. I guess there's a little stuff there about Sarah, and about his main aims, but there's not much of either. Oh well.
"I am here to save the world. Honestly. With my gun, with the grenades strapped to my belt, with my whacky army pants, I am here to save the world. I’m here because Morocco is the place to be; Casablanca, of all the bars in all the towns in all the world…yeah!
I came here to be a terrorist, to be An American, to be a patriot hating patriots – a mystery of an enigma – I came here not to break down the fabric that runs society, nor the banks that fund society; I came here to reinforce those wonderful ideals; commerce, capitalism, poor poorer and rich richer, all that jazz.
That’s why they sent me here. Yes, “they” sent me here. They are the bad men, the men in the shadows, the cigarette smoking men who lurk in darkness and add that something extra to conspiracy theories throughout the world. They aren’t just a conspiracy. “They” are real, but “They” are not who we think they are. They’re not government officials, secret societies, men in robes with terrible weapons. They’re bankers, financiers, stock market traders; they are goods manufacturers, short, fat, sweaty men in too-small suits; these are the men that rule the world.
And these are the man who sent me to sunny, sandy Casablanca to maintain the status quo – ironically by disrupting the status quo. Oh yes, you heard me. I’m the sacrificial lamb, so to speak. In gothic novels there was this glamorous bad guy, who was evil and wicked and charismatic (that’s me) and then at the end of the novel, he gets destroyed (that’s in an hour) and the forces of good (that’s “them”) triumph and everything is exactly the way it was before, but now everyone’s happier about it.
It’s an odd psychology, I know, but it’s the way the world works, on a grand scale at least. The only problem though, is I am a poor sacrificial lamb. I’m not wicked or evil; I’m not even that charismatic. What I am is a sap who fitted their needs well and who’s ended up here through coincidence and poor planning.
So we know what they think I’m here to do, but what am I really here to do? Ah, wouldn’t that be so grand, if I could tell you? But I’m not going to tell, so there! I didn’t tell Solomon, I didn’t tell Ronnie; I told Sarah, and Sarah ended up…well…She just ended up not being a good person to tell. So I’ll keep this one my little secret, at least until we see if it pans out the way I hope it will.
Ol’ Carlos is calling for me. Carlos, the heroic leader of the SWORD OF JUSTICE! It sounds like a battle cry from a bad cartoon, eh? Something that would be shouted by a man in spandex before the bad synthesizer music kicks in.
But Ricky doesn’t hate Carlos, Ricky loves Carlos. Not in that way, like in an idolise way. Carlos is standing up for all the things poor lil’ misguided Ricky believes in. Ricky is me, by the way; the name they gave me with the assignment. There was a real Ricky, but he…Yeah, so now I’m Ricky and Ricky loves Carlos and Ricky hates corporations, but according to “them” I love corporations, but really I don’t love corporations. It’s a very confusing business. It really is much like an onion, there are lots of layers, it gets very chopped up, and it often makes one cry.
There’s no sense in trying to explain it all; it’s mostly too convoluted for me, and I was the one who came up with the plan. All I’ll say is that one way or another, this will all end with a bang. Well, that’s saying rather more than I imagined. I mean, I suppose it could be a physical, or psychological or emotional or metaphysical bang; and even though we all know it’ll be physical, it could be a lot of different things making a bang. Bang on the door, bang on the floor, bang in the sky…the possibilities for banging during a hostage negotiation are really endless.
Yes, we have hostages. We have the biggest and brightest of the American Embassy here in sunny Casablanca, crowded in an office, eating strange bread with strange things to dip the bread in; drinking water provided by the hostage negotiation team, ironically better than any of the other water we’ve had here. Maybe they’re trying to make us too comfortable, to that we all take a collective nap, and then they can storm the building on their tippy-toes.
The ambassador is an nice man, not a business man or a prominent buddy of the U.S. president. A career politician; I imagine he’s earned the right to live in sunny Casablanca. But I don’t know, Ricky doesn’t know things, because it’s not his place to know things. Ricky is a good boy from Minnesota, who got tangled up with the wrong girl, then the wrong group, then the wrong side of the law.
There’s Ricky, cropping up in my mind again. Ricky, last known address: Hills. Somewhere. What a way to go out, last known address, somewhere. Tombstone: Here lies Ricky, someone, somewhere, some time. I feel bad for the kid.
I feel bad for all these guys. Saskia and Sofia and Stefan and even Benji, yeah Benji, who insists on calling me a “fucking fuck”, I even feel sorry for him. Because all these little chaps with their little ideologies aren’t really fulfilling their ideological ends. They’re the other charismatic lotharios and lothariettes, rounded up like so many usual suspects, given guns and a fancy, stupid name and sent out to do exactly what their cigarette smoking, bracket-named masters ordered.
There’s no getting out now. I already got out once; I don’t think anyone noticed. I had to knock Saskia out to do it, but I’m not sure she noticed either. Sarah, the last thing I’ll see of this world, before I enter a new world, of one kind or another. It’s not the sight I would have seen, had it been up to me. I lost my interest in that sight a long time ago, but it happened to be the sight that most fits the plan, and whom I don’t entirely mins giving up. I gave her my thing, she gave me hers, and hopefully we’re both on our way to our respective packages’ final destinations.
I’m on my way, but I don’t know about her; about Russel P. Barnes, about Graduate Studies. I don’t know about any of it and so I don’t trust any of it. Especially not Sarah."
Does cynical count as an emotion? I dunno that's what I see. I guess there's a little stuff there about Sarah, and about his main aims, but there's not much of either. Oh well.
Wk. 8 - Motivations to Play
I read the article. It made my head hurt. Because whether it's games or film, it's all there for the sake of escapism. And all of Yee's catagories of motivation are essentially tied to escapism. Achievement - you're not a badass in the real world, no one's a badass in the real world, except Samuel L. Jackson, so it's cool to be the badass champion of a videogame; Social - We've talked about this, when you're in a game, you're not really socializing as yourself; Emersion - At least this catagory is admitting to being escapism.
I suppose that apart from anything else, I'm an old-fashioned soul, and I believe that what draws people is character and story. I guess it's different with games, but when I look at the shelves in EB-Games, I see boy games and I see girl games, and that's why boys go for certain games and girls go for others. Not because they have different modes of thinking, but because games are shoved at the one or the other.
For me and my assignment, I have a strong lead character, good supporting characters and a great story. That'll draw audiences and that will hook audiences. The interactive element, that's just gravy.
I suppose that apart from anything else, I'm an old-fashioned soul, and I believe that what draws people is character and story. I guess it's different with games, but when I look at the shelves in EB-Games, I see boy games and I see girl games, and that's why boys go for certain games and girls go for others. Not because they have different modes of thinking, but because games are shoved at the one or the other.
For me and my assignment, I have a strong lead character, good supporting characters and a great story. That'll draw audiences and that will hook audiences. The interactive element, that's just gravy.
Wk. 8 - AVATAR
I think I may have slightly missed the point of the excircise, I don't know. I wrote the first thing that came into my head, like the very first, without thought, AND didn't stop until something grabbed my interest, which meant a VERY long, linear list. anyway, here it is
AVATAR - BLUE - JUNGLE - JAMES CAMERON - EPIC - TITANIC - KATE - TODD - SURGEON - DOCTOR - HOUSE - CANE - ABEL - FIT - CLEAN - OUTKAST - BREAKUP - JENNIFER ANISTON - FRIENDS - AND NEIGHBORS - TOMORROW - STEWART BEATTIE - PIRATES - 4 - MORE YEARS - IMMORTAL - ETERNAL - DO NOT GO GENTLE - STEWIE GRIFFIN - BRIAN - DOGS - CHASING HOME - CARTOONS - SIMPSONS - BARNEY - RUBBLE - RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE - WILLIS - MOE SZYSLAK - DUFF - DUFFMAN - HUGH LAURIE - TOM - THE GUN SELLER - THE LIFE OF PI - ROTOSCOPING - WAKING LIFE - PINS - PEACE - FUR IS MURDER - KILL FOR LOVE - CRIME OF PASSION - ARTIE AND THE ATOMICS
Ha! Figure that one out Freud, you dead bastard!
As it is, this has nothing to do with any potential pitch, (well, I am basing it on The Gun Seller, which was one of the points), it seems my subconscious is very much against me finishing these last assignments, because it's not doing anything to help me. I didn't even get to elaborating on the story, but I don't need to, because I know the story of Artie and the Atomics because it's an idea I already have. Ah well...maybe I'll eventually get something relevant.
AVATAR - BLUE - JUNGLE - JAMES CAMERON - EPIC - TITANIC - KATE - TODD - SURGEON - DOCTOR - HOUSE - CANE - ABEL - FIT - CLEAN - OUTKAST - BREAKUP - JENNIFER ANISTON - FRIENDS - AND NEIGHBORS - TOMORROW - STEWART BEATTIE - PIRATES - 4 - MORE YEARS - IMMORTAL - ETERNAL - DO NOT GO GENTLE - STEWIE GRIFFIN - BRIAN - DOGS - CHASING HOME - CARTOONS - SIMPSONS - BARNEY - RUBBLE - RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE - WILLIS - MOE SZYSLAK - DUFF - DUFFMAN - HUGH LAURIE - TOM - THE GUN SELLER - THE LIFE OF PI - ROTOSCOPING - WAKING LIFE - PINS - PEACE - FUR IS MURDER - KILL FOR LOVE - CRIME OF PASSION - ARTIE AND THE ATOMICS
Ha! Figure that one out Freud, you dead bastard!
As it is, this has nothing to do with any potential pitch, (well, I am basing it on The Gun Seller, which was one of the points), it seems my subconscious is very much against me finishing these last assignments, because it's not doing anything to help me. I didn't even get to elaborating on the story, but I don't need to, because I know the story of Artie and the Atomics because it's an idea I already have. Ah well...maybe I'll eventually get something relevant.
Wk. 6 - My "Heroes"
Yeehaw, it's finally happened! I have procrastinated for weeks, reading articles about interactive media companies, trying, willing myself to care about their great "breakthroughs". But I couldn't. Because they are breakthroughs that are slowly, very slowly, making TV capable of doing things the internet was able to do years ago.
For instance, ActiveVision and Videon Central are entering a new partnership which could see greater depth of content for web-connected TVs, well that's dandy, except that I have the web and all its depth of content on my computer already, and between a $1,600 computer and the + $5,000 TV/DVD/Blu-Ray setup ActiveVision would have me buy, I know which one I will always, always, always choose!
In other spine-tingling news, TAG Networks has developed a way for people to play multiple games concurrently on their game-based interactive network. So now, I can pause mid-poker-hand to make a move at solitaire. And I am over the damn moon about it, because the hundreds of online poker games, and the solitaire game I got free with Windows just couldn't exist at the same time on my computer and made it blow up.
This is what Interactive TV people get excited about. Because their breakthroughs are just ways to repackage their nonessential fluff to make themselves some more cash. It's never to enhance the viewer's experience of their favourite shows, to make them more engaging. Until now!
Yessir, the wonderful, beautiful people at NBC have announced that the next season of "Heroes" will feature a 10-episode multiplatform, interactive storyline. Yes, interactive AND multiplatform. The storyline will contain:
Graphic novels for mobile devices.
Interactive SMS, synched to broadcast.
Interactive storylines from which Sprint [telecom] users will receive clues to unlock a mystery.
A $25,000 sweepstakes which links the interactive story.
A "Heroes" survival game.
One-minute Internet video scenes, tied to the on-air version of the show.
A microsite for the show's carnival storyline.
Carnival-themed online games.
What does all this mean? Greater emotional connection with characters, deeper engagement with the story, and wholesale escapism which, after all, this kind of show is all about. It amazes me that the best so many shows can do is to make websites full of "Whacky behind the scenes footage!" and create phone numbers leading to answering machine messages "By the actual characters!". No one ever thought of using all this other media to actually tell the story? Well that's just sad, and I'm glad that we will have some forward thinking that ACTUALLY MOVES THINGS FORWARD.
Too bad we in Australia probably won't see the series for another 2 years, each episode preceded by warnings that all references to phone numbers and websites are no longer applicable.
Dammit.
REFERENCES:
http://itvt.com/story/5675/nbccom-sprint-team-multiplatform-interactive-heroes-storyline
http://itvt.com/story/5677/activevideo-videon-partner-bring-interactive-tv-consumer-electronics-devices
http://itvt.com/story/5651/tag-networks-launches-new-version-its-interactive-tv-games-platform
For instance, ActiveVision and Videon Central are entering a new partnership which could see greater depth of content for web-connected TVs, well that's dandy, except that I have the web and all its depth of content on my computer already, and between a $1,600 computer and the + $5,000 TV/DVD/Blu-Ray setup ActiveVision would have me buy, I know which one I will always, always, always choose!
In other spine-tingling news, TAG Networks has developed a way for people to play multiple games concurrently on their game-based interactive network. So now, I can pause mid-poker-hand to make a move at solitaire. And I am over the damn moon about it, because the hundreds of online poker games, and the solitaire game I got free with Windows just couldn't exist at the same time on my computer and made it blow up.
This is what Interactive TV people get excited about. Because their breakthroughs are just ways to repackage their nonessential fluff to make themselves some more cash. It's never to enhance the viewer's experience of their favourite shows, to make them more engaging. Until now!
Yessir, the wonderful, beautiful people at NBC have announced that the next season of "Heroes" will feature a 10-episode multiplatform, interactive storyline. Yes, interactive AND multiplatform. The storyline will contain:
Graphic novels for mobile devices.
Interactive SMS, synched to broadcast.
Interactive storylines from which Sprint [telecom] users will receive clues to unlock a mystery.
A $25,000 sweepstakes which links the interactive story.
A "Heroes" survival game.
One-minute Internet video scenes, tied to the on-air version of the show.
A microsite for the show's carnival storyline.
Carnival-themed online games.
What does all this mean? Greater emotional connection with characters, deeper engagement with the story, and wholesale escapism which, after all, this kind of show is all about. It amazes me that the best so many shows can do is to make websites full of "Whacky behind the scenes footage!" and create phone numbers leading to answering machine messages "By the actual characters!". No one ever thought of using all this other media to actually tell the story? Well that's just sad, and I'm glad that we will have some forward thinking that ACTUALLY MOVES THINGS FORWARD.
Too bad we in Australia probably won't see the series for another 2 years, each episode preceded by warnings that all references to phone numbers and websites are no longer applicable.
Dammit.
REFERENCES:
http://itvt.com/story/5675/nbccom-sprint-team-multiplatform-interactive-heroes-storyline
http://itvt.com/story/5677/activevideo-videon-partner-bring-interactive-tv-consumer-electronics-devices
http://itvt.com/story/5651/tag-networks-launches-new-version-its-interactive-tv-games-platform
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Wk. 5 Inglorious Music
Janek's second speedwriting piece, written to “Zyklop” by Thomas Koner:
"I can hear them coming, the roar, the march, the murmuring machines. And before the fall, just the individual footsteps of 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, the last, who stands above me, stands on me, across my chest, steps onto my face. “Don’t scream!” I tell myself “Don’t breathe!” The steps pace, devoid of voice, and so of thought or spirit of feeling. Just steps, crunch of stone, clap of wood, and the murmur of the machines, waiting. A ride in pitch and slow in pace. Then, they’re gone. No steps, no crunch and clap, just the rising and falling of the murmur of the machines. “That’s all?” No, there’s more. There must be more than this. The great terror in Paris, the night of burning in Berlin, the Polish wave, and all inspired by this? Inhuman footsteps and murmuring machines? A clap, and another, then clicks and scrapes. The machines awake No, too small., and the machines are too slow. Smaller machines, wielded by the men, held above their footsteps. A code of sorts, a click “hello”, a clap to indicate we are here, another points out where. A foreign language crates by footsteps to disguise their chatter from human ears, and to storm human minds."
Again, I got lots of atmosphere, and next to no story. I've written based on music before, but of course it's a lot easier when there are things like lyrics, melody and tone. Even if I don't directly transcribe what's going on in the song, I can generally ween something interesting out of it. But I remain unsatisfied with these pieces; it's puting some perepctive of my weaknesses, and I generally like having nothing to do with those. This time, however, was Quentin Tarantino to the rescue. Having just seen Inglorious Basterds last week, the development of this scene is based on what happens in the very first scene in that film.
In it, a German officer arrives at a French farm house and, being exceedingly polite and genial, convinces the resistant farmer to identify where he's hiding a Jewish family, who are, at his word, massacred, except for one. This was written about the one, and if anything had actually occurred in the music, that would have been her escape.
One thing I did like was the disembodiment of the footsteps; in a longer, more thought out story, I'd like to use that to better effect.
"I can hear them coming, the roar, the march, the murmuring machines. And before the fall, just the individual footsteps of 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, the last, who stands above me, stands on me, across my chest, steps onto my face. “Don’t scream!” I tell myself “Don’t breathe!” The steps pace, devoid of voice, and so of thought or spirit of feeling. Just steps, crunch of stone, clap of wood, and the murmur of the machines, waiting. A ride in pitch and slow in pace. Then, they’re gone. No steps, no crunch and clap, just the rising and falling of the murmur of the machines. “That’s all?” No, there’s more. There must be more than this. The great terror in Paris, the night of burning in Berlin, the Polish wave, and all inspired by this? Inhuman footsteps and murmuring machines? A clap, and another, then clicks and scrapes. The machines awake No, too small., and the machines are too slow. Smaller machines, wielded by the men, held above their footsteps. A code of sorts, a click “hello”, a clap to indicate we are here, another points out where. A foreign language crates by footsteps to disguise their chatter from human ears, and to storm human minds."
Again, I got lots of atmosphere, and next to no story. I've written based on music before, but of course it's a lot easier when there are things like lyrics, melody and tone. Even if I don't directly transcribe what's going on in the song, I can generally ween something interesting out of it. But I remain unsatisfied with these pieces; it's puting some perepctive of my weaknesses, and I generally like having nothing to do with those. This time, however, was Quentin Tarantino to the rescue. Having just seen Inglorious Basterds last week, the development of this scene is based on what happens in the very first scene in that film.
In it, a German officer arrives at a French farm house and, being exceedingly polite and genial, convinces the resistant farmer to identify where he's hiding a Jewish family, who are, at his word, massacred, except for one. This was written about the one, and if anything had actually occurred in the music, that would have been her escape.
One thing I did like was the disembodiment of the footsteps; in a longer, more thought out story, I'd like to use that to better effect.
Wk. 4 Jenniy
Janek's story, written to “Storch” by Trio Slicnation:
My name is Jenniy. With an "I" in the middle, and a "y" on the end. Yeah, that’s right, I got both, what of it? No one hears my name any more anyway, not under the cold wind and the cars and the sound of the streetlamps as they explode. The only thing about my name that’s important is who it used to be. Not me. No, it wasn’t always me, I wasn’t always Jenniy with an I and a Y. That great misfortune once was hampered upon another girl, but she’s gone now, and the name doesn’t mean anything to her either. But it means something to other people; to the people who knew her, to the people who felt close to her and her story, and I imagine, to the people who knew me, who felt close to my story. It meant something to a thousand other people who knew a thousand other Jenniy’s with Ys or Is or both, and who millions more who felt close to our stories. Maybe there was a Jenniy before the last one, maybe there were two or three or a million or a billion, I don’t know. But I spent three years as a Jenniy before Jenniy’s left me, and before that day I was happy and I was safe and I was amazingly, unbelievably, jaw-droppingly rich. Oh yes. But that day disappeared with Jenniy, and that life was gone and I was in the cold, in the wind, standing under exploding streetlamps, but there’s nothing out there that can make me regret what I did, nor anyone who can tell me that what I did was wrong, not with any sense of righteousness or justification; there’s nothing they can tell me that I haven’t heard before, and which I haven’t laughed off.
No editing done since it was first written.
I got a real neo-noir vibe from the music, and there was a kind of sound like wind going through it, which led to the atmosphere. The problem was, while I came up with plenty of atmospherics, pushing myself not to think meant that I couldn't plot out a story, and nothing naturally occurred to me, so I basically just kept going with atmosphere, and it doesn't go anywhere.
I really like repeating motifs, so the "I" and the "Y" became one, and the streetlights would have, I think, if I had more time. The "I" and the "Y" might have gotten out of control, again without the self-censoring thoughts, my worst excesses were allowed to shine through.
My name is Jenniy. With an "I" in the middle, and a "y" on the end. Yeah, that’s right, I got both, what of it? No one hears my name any more anyway, not under the cold wind and the cars and the sound of the streetlamps as they explode. The only thing about my name that’s important is who it used to be. Not me. No, it wasn’t always me, I wasn’t always Jenniy with an I and a Y. That great misfortune once was hampered upon another girl, but she’s gone now, and the name doesn’t mean anything to her either. But it means something to other people; to the people who knew her, to the people who felt close to her and her story, and I imagine, to the people who knew me, who felt close to my story. It meant something to a thousand other people who knew a thousand other Jenniy’s with Ys or Is or both, and who millions more who felt close to our stories. Maybe there was a Jenniy before the last one, maybe there were two or three or a million or a billion, I don’t know. But I spent three years as a Jenniy before Jenniy’s left me, and before that day I was happy and I was safe and I was amazingly, unbelievably, jaw-droppingly rich. Oh yes. But that day disappeared with Jenniy, and that life was gone and I was in the cold, in the wind, standing under exploding streetlamps, but there’s nothing out there that can make me regret what I did, nor anyone who can tell me that what I did was wrong, not with any sense of righteousness or justification; there’s nothing they can tell me that I haven’t heard before, and which I haven’t laughed off.
No editing done since it was first written.
I got a real neo-noir vibe from the music, and there was a kind of sound like wind going through it, which led to the atmosphere. The problem was, while I came up with plenty of atmospherics, pushing myself not to think meant that I couldn't plot out a story, and nothing naturally occurred to me, so I basically just kept going with atmosphere, and it doesn't go anywhere.
I really like repeating motifs, so the "I" and the "Y" became one, and the streetlights would have, I think, if I had more time. The "I" and the "Y" might have gotten out of control, again without the self-censoring thoughts, my worst excesses were allowed to shine through.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)