Post by Ebil on Oct 28, 2009 1:05:54 GMT -5
Actually making a thread this year. A sign of the chickenpocalypse, surely.
So. I'll be really, really crunched for time this November; whether I'll stagger across the finish line with the rest of you is quite debatable. But hey, through some miracle I managed it last year (22k words in one weekend, dude o-o And all of them were coherent and only like a third crappier than my usual writing) so perhaps in '09, too... And the free manuscript promotion is a great motivation, heehee :3
Right now, all I have is half a premise, a couple potential characters to use in it, and an idea for a solid ending (useless without a beginning or middle, of course.)
Here's my stuff:
Things old, forsaken, lost, forgotten,
Nonexistent, pushed aside,
Have each and every one their place
In the VOID at the heart of outer space…
[/center]
-Far future; scattered human space colonies; limited transportation for most people.
-Living ships (adapted from previously existing species of space creature) as the only truly efficient method of space travel, and a highly respected, elite (and slightly elitist) hierarchy/association/order composed of those who associate with them.
-Plague-survivor, passive-aggressive main character who through unlikely events paired with her own volition gains the opportunity to pilot a living ship and in the process contemplates her navel.
-A pathological issue with the organic technology creation complex that they use - it's like, a huge, living factory in space, almost a giant ribosome - that needs fixing, and is a topic of contention among people
-a couple of intriguing secondary characters to show up and catalyze subplots (they're just Expys from my other projects, shhh)
-an ending (I'm not putting that here, it's a spoiler .~.)
The premise is actually a good bit more structured and detailed than that, but I'm too busy at this second to write it up, I'll do that tomorrow.
Bond Creatures...IN SPACE!
Broken Bird
Living Ship
Organic Technology
Feudal Future
Did Not Do The Research - You know I won't. Likely to end up reading back over it and going "Neurons do not work that way!", "The CNS does not work that way!", "Viruses do not work that way!", etc.
You Fail Biology Forever.
INSPIRATIONS
OUTLINE
ART
Right now, all I have is half a premise, a couple potential characters to use in it, and an idea for a solid ending (useless without a beginning or middle, of course.)
Here's my stuff:
indigo void
Things old, forsaken, lost, forgotten,
Nonexistent, pushed aside,
Have each and every one their place
In the VOID at the heart of outer space…
[/center]Ten short years ago, Plague D boiled across the galaxy, leaving in its wake damaged, weak and ugly children - pale with harsh blotches of pigmentation scattered across their faces, nearly deaf and retaining little sensation in their rotted maroon extremities. Ten years ago as well, disturbing signs of stress-induced structural damage were reported in Spacetrain Terminals K-W; meanwhile, as predicted, Terminals F, H, and Y collapsed within the year, giving way finally to millenia of rot. At the same time, the Prime Ribosome began to falter in its hitherto regular production as the Ray birthing rate entered a decade-long crashing decline; for the next ten years, the Void Corps of Blessed Imperfection maintained a calm outer facade while behind the scenes their pilot training program slowly ground towards a halt. Efforts to the contrary produced no relief.
But time passed anyway.
Today, the Corps finds itself training the pilots of the tiniest, most meager clutch of Ytsnavi Space Rays it has ever been their misfortune to obtain - sickly, strange creatures. Next year, they will be lucky if they obtain any rays at all. Of late the public facade has cracked; the ailing organization has lost the trust of the common people and only the incredible charisma of its seasoned leader calms them suitably to keep the aging Union from falling into turmoil and bloody revolution. If that weren't enough, the pilots - oh, the pilots...
Chief among their incongruous ranks is Duriban Sekichi, quiet plague-baby from a backwater planet; her phenomenal scores on the suitability tests shocked and amazed her friends and family, the Corps, and to some degree herself. Duriban, who can be described as a smiling blotchy wad of passive-aggressiveness, finds herself processing the thoughts of both herself and her new ray Pseriyune while she navigates a new world of rules and regulations and crisp uniforms and wide spaces. In Pseriyune, she finds a friend and confidant of a kind she's never had before, a well of new senses and colors and sensations, and a new piece of soul; and in her fellow pilots, a colorful and diverse rush of rivals and friends from every leg of the sky and every walk of life. With the help of the allies and enemies the two of them make in their new life together, this fresh conglomeration of one soul in two bodies has the potential to change the course of history.
A solar wind rushes through the sky. It carries not only a number of the charged solar particles Space Rays find so delicious to snack on with their multiple serrated tongues, but the heavy pang of an unfamiliar scent, absent from the skies for many a century.
That scent is change...
But time passed anyway.
Today, the Corps finds itself training the pilots of the tiniest, most meager clutch of Ytsnavi Space Rays it has ever been their misfortune to obtain - sickly, strange creatures. Next year, they will be lucky if they obtain any rays at all. Of late the public facade has cracked; the ailing organization has lost the trust of the common people and only the incredible charisma of its seasoned leader calms them suitably to keep the aging Union from falling into turmoil and bloody revolution. If that weren't enough, the pilots - oh, the pilots...
Chief among their incongruous ranks is Duriban Sekichi, quiet plague-baby from a backwater planet; her phenomenal scores on the suitability tests shocked and amazed her friends and family, the Corps, and to some degree herself. Duriban, who can be described as a smiling blotchy wad of passive-aggressiveness, finds herself processing the thoughts of both herself and her new ray Pseriyune while she navigates a new world of rules and regulations and crisp uniforms and wide spaces. In Pseriyune, she finds a friend and confidant of a kind she's never had before, a well of new senses and colors and sensations, and a new piece of soul; and in her fellow pilots, a colorful and diverse rush of rivals and friends from every leg of the sky and every walk of life. With the help of the allies and enemies the two of them make in their new life together, this fresh conglomeration of one soul in two bodies has the potential to change the course of history.
A solar wind rushes through the sky. It carries not only a number of the charged solar particles Space Rays find so delicious to snack on with their multiple serrated tongues, but the heavy pang of an unfamiliar scent, absent from the skies for many a century.
That scent is change...
-Far future; scattered human space colonies; limited transportation for most people.
-Living ships (adapted from previously existing species of space creature) as the only truly efficient method of space travel, and a highly respected, elite (and slightly elitist) hierarchy/association/order composed of those who associate with them.
-Plague-survivor, passive-aggressive main character who through unlikely events paired with her own volition gains the opportunity to pilot a living ship and in the process contemplates her navel.
-A pathological issue with the organic technology creation complex that they use - it's like, a huge, living factory in space, almost a giant ribosome - that needs fixing, and is a topic of contention among people
-a couple of intriguing secondary characters to show up and catalyze subplots (they're just Expys from my other projects, shhh)
-an ending (I'm not putting that here, it's a spoiler .~.)
The premise is actually a good bit more structured and detailed than that, but I'm too busy at this second to write it up, I'll do that tomorrow.
Bond Creatures...IN SPACE!
Broken Bird
Living Ship
Organic Technology
Feudal Future
Did Not Do The Research - You know I won't. Likely to end up reading back over it and going "Neurons do not work that way!", "The CNS does not work that way!", "Viruses do not work that way!", etc.
You Fail Biology Forever.
INSPIRATIONS
OUTLINE
ART
