MysteryWriter
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I just read the stroy idea board.... and you thought I was sick... still the midget bearded lady and secret agent do have some appeal to me.... oh that was mine
story idea board
- Thread starter MysteryWriter
- Start date
Apart from that one gem, I notice it is almost entirely requests, rather than ideas. That is really quite a big difference.
ps: I sort of feel like churning out some low-brow space opera. Really just for writing practice. Some sort of colaboration so that things happen even when I am not around, and ideas appear even when its one of my dumb days.~ Any suggestions?
ps: I sort of feel like churning out some low-brow space opera. Really just for writing practice. Some sort of colaboration so that things happen even when I am not around, and ideas appear even when its one of my dumb days.~ Any suggestions?
MysteryWriter
Really Really Experienced
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there is a silly chain in writers hangout called save me from working in wva not much to it really...
Starblayde
5pointboy
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I'll offer you a hand if you'd like one... Sci-Fi is one of my fortes, though i do say so myself.
But really its just having watched Star Trek, Babylon 5, Farscape, Star Wars and a myriad of Sci-Fi crap-a-thons too many times.
Starblayde
That's cool!
Now how to work it? I like the immediacy of forums, compared to chyoo etc, But I would like a little more emphasis on plot rather than roleplay.
My first proposal is that we run it like a roleplay, but with more discussion/consensus of plot in the OOC thread, and not strictly proprietry characters. In fact there might only be one main character for example.
---------------
The next question is genre. We should find an intersection of what we are interested in.
I want to avoid fan-fic and already developed universes (though I have watched ALL of it too)
Sorts of low-brow things I would like to throw into the mix are
Tough women, big guns.
Bug Eyed Monsters.
Space pirates.
Battle Mechs, and technology that has more to do with steel and grease than glowing crystals.
Um, here are two erotic tales on this site. They are perverse and dubious in several ways, but can still be summed up as "mostly harmless", I think.
http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=12942 (Xanthopella)
http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=22972 (Q&A)
I'm not aiming for erotica here as such, but adult while mostly harmless seems a good aim.
That's cool!
Now how to work it? I like the immediacy of forums, compared to chyoo etc, But I would like a little more emphasis on plot rather than roleplay.
My first proposal is that we run it like a roleplay, but with more discussion/consensus of plot in the OOC thread, and not strictly proprietry characters. In fact there might only be one main character for example.
---------------
The next question is genre. We should find an intersection of what we are interested in.
I want to avoid fan-fic and already developed universes (though I have watched ALL of it too)
Sorts of low-brow things I would like to throw into the mix are
Tough women, big guns.
Bug Eyed Monsters.
Space pirates.
Battle Mechs, and technology that has more to do with steel and grease than glowing crystals.
Um, here are two erotic tales on this site. They are perverse and dubious in several ways, but can still be summed up as "mostly harmless", I think.
http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=12942 (Xanthopella)
http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=22972 (Q&A)
I'm not aiming for erotica here as such, but adult while mostly harmless seems a good aim.
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Starblayde
5pointboy
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Damn Straight
I believe we are very much on the same page here (or should that be same Viewscreen?) Not a big fan of Battle Mechs, but given the right size and/or involvement they can work.
The kind of technology in 'Aliens' (still the best movie of the 4) only a lot more advanced... im a big fan of warp drives, they tend to make the plot run smoother (as opposed to the 'hypersleep' method.
I'm in the middle of writing a very long Sci-Fi extravaganza, its just out of control at the moment...A space opera with bits of porn in between really... not exactly 'harmless' but hey...
Its a big "Galactic Federal Government/Space Marine-style/Imperialist Rebellion/elite squad/Bits with aliens" type of thing.. Think along the lines of Star Trek + Star Wars + Top Gun + Gladiator + Any 'Jack Ryan' novel and you're halfway there...
I can send you some snippets if you want
Oh...and as always... big tits = big guns...am i right or am i right?
I believe we are very much on the same page here (or should that be same Viewscreen?) Not a big fan of Battle Mechs, but given the right size and/or involvement they can work.
The kind of technology in 'Aliens' (still the best movie of the 4) only a lot more advanced... im a big fan of warp drives, they tend to make the plot run smoother (as opposed to the 'hypersleep' method.
I'm in the middle of writing a very long Sci-Fi extravaganza, its just out of control at the moment...A space opera with bits of porn in between really... not exactly 'harmless' but hey...
Its a big "Galactic Federal Government/Space Marine-style/Imperialist Rebellion/elite squad/Bits with aliens" type of thing.. Think along the lines of Star Trek + Star Wars + Top Gun + Gladiator + Any 'Jack Ryan' novel and you're halfway there...
I can send you some snippets if you want
Oh...and as always... big tits = big guns...am i right or am i right?
I can just see recruitment in your universe: Sergent walks down line of recruits with tape measure..
"Assault carbine.. Assault carbine.." Long pause. "Walther PPK.. Assault carbine.. OH MY GOD Get this woman a phased plasma rifle in the 40 megawatt range quick!..Assault carbine"
Yes, battle mechs themselves don't make much sense for war. Often I just like to imagine them up on blocks on some farmyard shed being tinkered with.
Send some stuff over if you like, not too big because it is difficult for me to wade through big on a monitor. I would like to avoid what ever plot you are using... unless you want to look for ideas specifically for it.
"Assault carbine.. Assault carbine.." Long pause. "Walther PPK.. Assault carbine.. OH MY GOD Get this woman a phased plasma rifle in the 40 megawatt range quick!..Assault carbine"
Yes, battle mechs themselves don't make much sense for war. Often I just like to imagine them up on blocks on some farmyard shed being tinkered with.
Send some stuff over if you like, not too big because it is difficult for me to wade through big on a monitor. I would like to avoid what ever plot you are using... unless you want to look for ideas specifically for it.
Starblayde
5pointboy
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You know what i'm saying...A totally different Universe is fine by me, mine's complicated enough already
I'll send some to your email thru LitE....
btw if you're having problems with reading long text on a monitor try the blue background/white text option in Word...i think its in viewing options or preferences of something like that...i use it and it sure helps my eyes at 3am
My main problem is losing my place every time I page down reading one massive column of text.
Lets brainstorm up some real quality cliches:
The setting:
Based around a single ship?
Exploring strange new worlds, nuking them.
Pirates-r-us
(Legitamite) pirates (whatever the name for that is)
War
traders
The enermy:
that big army over there
Opressive masters
Alien infestations
not yet reveiled.
oops, got to go...
Starblayde
5pointboy
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peterpan said:
I like the idea of mercenaries/pirates.... a cliche needs a single hero, a good babe, an evil babe (queen/dominatrix type), a robot (annoying or useful) and rebels of some form or another...think Buck Rogers or BAttlestar Galatica...the really cheesy stuff....Starfighters of some description, plus a band of sub-ordinate guys (and girls as it'll be an adult version)
I have been wondering how to start, and came to this conclusion:
My aim is to practice writing, but have been worrying about putting down the first paragraph. So instead I am just going to write paragraphs that are neither first paragraphs, nor belonging to the same story.
You can write stuff too, but I suggest avoiding any continuity at first. In fact you could make a point of using different styles and everything.
Quite likely these paragraphs could be rewritten into introductions for characters, or scenes that seem to work. The main thing I want to avoid at first is spending time planning that could be spent writing. If nothing comes of it, at least I will have done some writing.
My aim is to practice writing, but have been worrying about putting down the first paragraph. So instead I am just going to write paragraphs that are neither first paragraphs, nor belonging to the same story.
You can write stuff too, but I suggest avoiding any continuity at first. In fact you could make a point of using different styles and everything.
Quite likely these paragraphs could be rewritten into introductions for characters, or scenes that seem to work. The main thing I want to avoid at first is spending time planning that could be spent writing. If nothing comes of it, at least I will have done some writing.
(This may come off as very corny or pretentious)
Every jump is like a little death.
Cheating the universe. Like girls with girls. Your not meant to enjoy it but I do. Its breaking the Law and not allowed, and someday They are going to catch you, whomever it is that wrote the universal law I just broke.
But the human race has known that for centuries. We've seen the signs: the wreckage of civilisations to which we would have been gnats, if they had not been swatted by something bigger still. Not so long ago, in astronomical terms. Lucky us.
But Jumping is better than sex too. In the afterglow you have not picked up one more peice of emotional baggage to drag on you. Instead You have left it all ten lightyears behind.
My job I guess is trucker. Not a bad job when you are paid by the mile... But who I am is this. Right now.
Now a million miles from anywhere or any body, I think I'll have a cigarette.
Every jump is like a little death.
Cheating the universe. Like girls with girls. Your not meant to enjoy it but I do. Its breaking the Law and not allowed, and someday They are going to catch you, whomever it is that wrote the universal law I just broke.
But the human race has known that for centuries. We've seen the signs: the wreckage of civilisations to which we would have been gnats, if they had not been swatted by something bigger still. Not so long ago, in astronomical terms. Lucky us.
But Jumping is better than sex too. In the afterglow you have not picked up one more peice of emotional baggage to drag on you. Instead You have left it all ten lightyears behind.
My job I guess is trucker. Not a bad job when you are paid by the mile... But who I am is this. Right now.
Now a million miles from anywhere or any body, I think I'll have a cigarette.
She trimmed the foil and skimmed over the smooth valleys like spit on some sorta smooth hot shit. Engines were cool and the gieger barely ticked over. Even cancer couldnt ruin her day anyway. Hell, there were pills for that.
The cocpit, all air conditioned and crystal clear and sound-black, gave everything a feel of unreality. or virtual reality. The landscape was almost as clear as direct input. That feeling was missleading and dangerous, but they wouldn't have let her fly for real if they didn't trust her that far.
A voice crackled:
"Harry, activate you heads up and bring everything you have on line. Don't make mistakes. Better to be slow than burst a frozen gas feed."
Harry knew exactly what to do. Her hand slipped to the relevant controls. It was exactly like the simulator.
DAMN!
The screen went black. To her horror the canopy lifted and before she recovered a technisn was swabbing her face.
"You know what you did wrong?" her instructor said.
"Yes, Yes, I just.."
"Fine. We are going to keep at it until it is instintive. Shutting the canopy now."
"But wait aaaawwoo!" The jolt shuddered the hapless Harry, not the first time that morning, erasing her short-term memory.
She trimmed the foil and skimmed over the smooth valleys like spit on some sorta hot metal shit.
The cocpit, all air conditioned and crystal clear and sound-black, gave everything a feel of unreality. or virtual reality. The landscape was almost as clear as direct input. That feeling was missleading and dangerous, but they wouldn't have let her fly for real if they didn't trust her that far.
A voice crackled:
"Harry, activate you heads up and bring everything you have on line. Don't make mistakes. Better to be slow than burst a frozen gas feed."
Harry knew exactly what to do. Her hand slipped to the relevant controls. It was exactly like the simulator.
DAMN!
The screen went black. To her horror the canopy lifted and before she recovered a technisn was swabbing her face.
"You know what you did wrong?" her instructor said.
"Yes, Yes, I just.."
"Fine. We are going to keep at it until it is instintive. Shutting the canopy now."
"But wait aaaawwoo!" The jolt shuddered the hapless Harry, not the first time that morning, erasing her short-term memory.
She trimmed the foil and skimmed over the smooth valleys like spit on some sorta hot metal shit.
Starblayde
5pointboy
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I'm a huge fan of introducing mini characters, then geting them embroiled in some huge event in which they are relatively insignificant, but have a unique view on the scene. So, for a bit of continuity (boo hiss!) with your trucker perhaps:
Karrg looked at his radar screen, a smile playing across his wide mouth, fangs bared.
"Claw-Captain, we have a new mouse to play with... It has just jumped into our system, 120 Talonets and closing"
*OOC: its a mark of a truly shite space-opera when it uses non-imperical measuremeants, so you have no idea how far apart things are, or how long things will take*
"Warm up the Plasma Cannons. Swing in behind her" Tarath ordered, growling deep in the back of his throat, stroking the long dark fur around his cheeks "Then take out her engines..."
The sleek, deadly Falaan ship banked to starboard swiftly overtaking the long slow freighter. Plasma cannons roared, incandesent fireballs of white-hot plasma, ripping into the soft frame of the freighter
******
Damn that feels good, for all the bad its doing me...
What the hell was that? The engines have just gone... oh shit. Goddamn furballs. How in god's name am I going to get out of this one?
Karrg looked at his radar screen, a smile playing across his wide mouth, fangs bared.
"Claw-Captain, we have a new mouse to play with... It has just jumped into our system, 120 Talonets and closing"
*OOC: its a mark of a truly shite space-opera when it uses non-imperical measuremeants, so you have no idea how far apart things are, or how long things will take*
"Warm up the Plasma Cannons. Swing in behind her" Tarath ordered, growling deep in the back of his throat, stroking the long dark fur around his cheeks "Then take out her engines..."
The sleek, deadly Falaan ship banked to starboard swiftly overtaking the long slow freighter. Plasma cannons roared, incandesent fireballs of white-hot plasma, ripping into the soft frame of the freighter
******
Damn that feels good, for all the bad its doing me...
What the hell was that? The engines have just gone... oh shit. Goddamn furballs. How in god's name am I going to get out of this one?
Starblayde
5pointboy
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The great thing about colonising Mars was that there was some much room... billions of billions of acres of prime farming land. Rik Ravanelli (its a soccer player's surname i know but couldn't think of anything beginning with 'R' for the mo') dropped his bulky tool box in front of the open doors of his huge barn.
"Goddammit, so what's up with you this time?"
The great mechanised walking battle machine towered twenty-five feet above him, supported by heavy-duty scaffolding. Silent.
"Gyros gone again? Why the hell they couldn'ta given you cat' tracks i don't know..." He put his hands on his hips, trying to figure out where the hell he was going to get replacement parts at this time of year, with the Earth practically on the other side of the Sun.
His thoughts were broken as he heard the quiet sound of a car ripping up the dusty Martian road behind him. Only one set of people knew where he lived... something big was happening.
"Goddammit, so what's up with you this time?"
The great mechanised walking battle machine towered twenty-five feet above him, supported by heavy-duty scaffolding. Silent.
"Gyros gone again? Why the hell they couldn'ta given you cat' tracks i don't know..." He put his hands on his hips, trying to figure out where the hell he was going to get replacement parts at this time of year, with the Earth practically on the other side of the Sun.
His thoughts were broken as he heard the quiet sound of a car ripping up the dusty Martian road behind him. Only one set of people knew where he lived... something big was happening.
Starblayde
5pointboy
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peterpan said:
Isn't that the point? A little corny perhaps, but not pretentious...
Nice future distopia thing: "Even cancer couldnt ruin her day anyway. Hell, there were pills for that" and the fact humainty knows its on its way to oblivion by Jumping so he smokes anyway...nice touch... I got a Mech on blocks and some evil pirate / possibly acting under orders from Furball HQ type stuff going on...what do you think?
(_SHE_ smokes anyway )
What you said about incomprehensible units gave me a silly image: Pirates turn out to be housecat-size and irresisitably cute -- really fat and fluffy and hugable.
..But I wouldn't do that to you..
Another silly note: "That time of year" might imply that the martians define their year by how long it takes for eath to overtake mars in it's orbit rather than to the season?
Hmmm, I think the martian year is about double the earth year. when I try to work it out, I keep coming to a time of about double an earth year for earth to catch up.. I guess that could be right
)What you said about incomprehensible units gave me a silly image: Pirates turn out to be housecat-size and irresisitably cute
-- really fat and fluffy and hugable...But I wouldn't do that to you..
Another silly note: "That time of year" might imply that the martians define their year by how long it takes for eath to overtake mars in it's orbit rather than to the season?
Hmmm, I think the martian year is about double the earth year. when I try to work it out, I keep coming to a time of about double an earth year for earth to catch up.. I guess that could be right
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Meanwhile, in the Mandelbrot Nebula...
Sir Jericho Blood, Captain, owner, and entire crew of the ancient Merchant ship "Blood Money" was gouging out lint from his navel with a fingernail. The navel had not been easy to find, being buried deep between two folds of his enormous gut. At the beginning of his search he had not been sure which two.
The "Blood Money" had been floating here for days, waiting for Jericho's secret partners to reappear. They were not a punctual people. Or perhaps the fault was in Sir Jericho's own universal translator. "Seven million stored languages crosslinked to a huristic quantum computer guarunteed to allow fluent discourse with any life form not entirely purpendicular to conventional space time axies". Translation: uninteligible.
A pinging alerted him to the approach of a massive object. Jericho's secret partners were, as always, cloaked. Only the nebula's interaction with their structural shields reveiled anything of their craft's form. It was probably an illusion of the fields, but the impression was of a wraithlike Kraken, some light minutes across, poking it's head inquisitively into normal space from an equally wrathlike funnel. The effect was also rather like an inferior electron image of a creature otherwise to small to be seen.
[HELLO! hello! HELLO! One usually equal one!] the universal translator reported.
Then trading began in earnest.
***
Afterwards Jericho sat, exhausted and somewhat disappointed, looking at a cargo hold of alien brickabrak. His secret partners had godlike powers and were intensly gullible, yet as yet seemed totally unable to comprehend the most basic principles of supply and demand, and scale. "What would you trade for this pretty rock. This rock that is a kilometer wide but has a particularily asthetic and amusing pattern of impact craters. What about this one then?"
But every now and then they would deliver something rediculously valuable. Jewels, diamond bricks, paper...
This time it was mostly junk he had taken mainly to avoid hurting their feelings. The only thing of any worth was the strange orb he held in his hand.
The Orb was about the size of a baseball, and contained what appeared to be a central spark of light, with (if you looked very closely) some orbiting specks of light. A model of a solar system, obviously.
Where is this system, he had asked, but they did not seem to remember. Only that it was very very old, and no longer interesting to watch.
Nevertheless, they would not take less than three star systems for it. Jericho often traded star-systems for brickabrak. It was no great price, because they had agreed to suspend taking ownership for half a galactic rotation, in order to give the inhabitants time to move out. But gullible though they were, Jericho had learnt he could not sell them the same system twice.
"If I embellish it's history a bit, perhaps I can sell it to a collector for say, a couple of thou," Captain Jericho Blood thought. He chucked it into the air, forgetting that gravity within the cargo bay stopped above two meters of the floor.
"Damn!" All he could do was watch as the fragile crystal sphere drifted towards the steel ceiling, ten meters above.
Noone ever discovered what had happened to Captain Jericho. No ship venturing to the Mandelbrot nebula ever returned.
Sir Jericho Blood, Captain, owner, and entire crew of the ancient Merchant ship "Blood Money" was gouging out lint from his navel with a fingernail. The navel had not been easy to find, being buried deep between two folds of his enormous gut. At the beginning of his search he had not been sure which two.
The "Blood Money" had been floating here for days, waiting for Jericho's secret partners to reappear. They were not a punctual people. Or perhaps the fault was in Sir Jericho's own universal translator. "Seven million stored languages crosslinked to a huristic quantum computer guarunteed to allow fluent discourse with any life form not entirely purpendicular to conventional space time axies". Translation: uninteligible.
A pinging alerted him to the approach of a massive object. Jericho's secret partners were, as always, cloaked. Only the nebula's interaction with their structural shields reveiled anything of their craft's form. It was probably an illusion of the fields, but the impression was of a wraithlike Kraken, some light minutes across, poking it's head inquisitively into normal space from an equally wrathlike funnel. The effect was also rather like an inferior electron image of a creature otherwise to small to be seen.
[HELLO! hello! HELLO! One usually equal one!] the universal translator reported.
Then trading began in earnest.
***
Afterwards Jericho sat, exhausted and somewhat disappointed, looking at a cargo hold of alien brickabrak. His secret partners had godlike powers and were intensly gullible, yet as yet seemed totally unable to comprehend the most basic principles of supply and demand, and scale. "What would you trade for this pretty rock. This rock that is a kilometer wide but has a particularily asthetic and amusing pattern of impact craters. What about this one then?"
But every now and then they would deliver something rediculously valuable. Jewels, diamond bricks, paper...
This time it was mostly junk he had taken mainly to avoid hurting their feelings. The only thing of any worth was the strange orb he held in his hand.
The Orb was about the size of a baseball, and contained what appeared to be a central spark of light, with (if you looked very closely) some orbiting specks of light. A model of a solar system, obviously.
Where is this system, he had asked, but they did not seem to remember. Only that it was very very old, and no longer interesting to watch.
Nevertheless, they would not take less than three star systems for it. Jericho often traded star-systems for brickabrak. It was no great price, because they had agreed to suspend taking ownership for half a galactic rotation, in order to give the inhabitants time to move out. But gullible though they were, Jericho had learnt he could not sell them the same system twice.
"If I embellish it's history a bit, perhaps I can sell it to a collector for say, a couple of thou," Captain Jericho Blood thought. He chucked it into the air, forgetting that gravity within the cargo bay stopped above two meters of the floor.
"Damn!" All he could do was watch as the fragile crystal sphere drifted towards the steel ceiling, ten meters above.
Noone ever discovered what had happened to Captain Jericho. No ship venturing to the Mandelbrot nebula ever returned.
Hmmm, that did not work, but I think maybe it could be made to work.
The idea was sort of a joke on buying land off indigenous people, and the globe is a pinch-bottle universe holding an entire system of some horrid and ancient alien race. Perhaps these were once enemies of the partners, but the partners are now millions of years more advanced and really don't care about their old enermies or the vanilla dimensions anymore.
..However the horrid alien race has just sat there getting more and more bad tempered. They became "Boring to watch" because they have built every possible war machine they can with their resources and now are just waiting for some accident to set them free.
I think the trucker should be a woman, who could be captured by the pirates, but something like this race becomes the real bad guy.. preying manti with attitudes and a lot of history. This could force a bunch of races to become unexpected allies.
The idea was sort of a joke on buying land off indigenous people, and the globe is a pinch-bottle universe holding an entire system of some horrid and ancient alien race. Perhaps these were once enemies of the partners, but the partners are now millions of years more advanced and really don't care about their old enermies or the vanilla dimensions anymore.
..However the horrid alien race has just sat there getting more and more bad tempered. They became "Boring to watch" because they have built every possible war machine they can with their resources and now are just waiting for some accident to set them free.
I think the trucker should be a woman, who could be captured by the pirates, but something like this race becomes the real bad guy.. preying manti with attitudes and a lot of history. This could force a bunch of races to become unexpected allies.
Starblayde
5pointboy
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peterpan said:
Yeah, maybe "at this point in the solar calendar" or something hmmmm.
Different scales...like the two fleets in Hitchhiker's Guide... that were acidentally swallowed by a small dog
Starblayde
5pointboy
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peterpan said:
Yeah... as soon as i read it i got the feelin' it was Men in Black in space... with the 'galaxy' on orion's belt/collar.
I think the use of indigenous people can run... perhaps on a galactic scale... ancient civilisation kicked off by new up-and-coming technologically advanced types returning to wreak havoc on the races that supplanted them. Pehaps a B5/Vorlons type race, maybe very 'earthy - hippy' types... using the natural flow of the universe etc.
