Revvy
2008-12-30, 16:39
I've had an idea for a story clattering around in my head for nearly a year, possibly more, now. Over time it's gradually shifted from a cliche fantasy tale overly influenced by various other stories into something which I believe is quite original and has some potential.
In short, I want to create a kind of cyberpunk tale set in the past, in the midst of a crusade. Instead of the story being set in the future, in a overly steel and technological city, the tale is set in a grand ancient city which has been corrupted by a new religion. The equivalent to surfing the internet is preying: people going to the temples and communcating to the 'angels' who the civillians foolishly believe are real angels who'll answer their prayers. Little do they know that a galactic empire has realised troop invasions are countr-productive and have decided to expand their influence by taking over planets spiritually before they arrive there, so their arrival is seen of that as a god, not as an invader.
These 'angels' are merely people in call centres trying their hardest to corrupt the minds of the citizens on the planet. However, some rebels have infiltrated these call centres and sneakily relay details to the protaganists in the novel to make them realise what is going on.
In the story I want to create this huge spiritual metropolis which feels incredibly dark and where the charecters feel totally overwhelmed. I want witch burnings of pagans, calls for crusades to be waged on far away lands, mysterious plagues to keep the population in check and dark preachers from far away planets who have powers incomprehensible to the local population.
Anyways last night I took a huge step and actually wrote something down, instead of just planning... Here goes:
The night was cold beyond yonder, but the fumes were vapourising the way. A small red ember casually burning in a mist of smoke, sitting in front of a beard of curly grey: an aura of mystique. He rhythmly chanted verses of alien tongues and exhaled choruses of smoke as his audience sang along to the words merrily. The hazey mist of various narcotics gave the sense of a monochrome summer: heat trails of indica sativa; a full moon barely illuminating the grasses and trees, sunburning the people in a calming flare and feeling of aliveness.
The song came to a close and the grounds echoes in cheers; “cheers” they cried, and a far off group dove into another song, this one fuelled more by the senses of ale and accompanied by the beat of clinging glasses. Pagonis took another toke, long and hard as he embraced his time out; laying beneath the moon, stars and a dense constellation of fumes on a bed of grass and hay. His audience slowly begun to scatter mainly to two other locations: the bar and the main area, with a small minority making way to the nearby hill. Pagona slipped into their ear that he was to be letting off some ancient magic soon, a beautiful ecstatic explosion of his latest concoctions. Well, after he’d finished off his pipe that is, and that was half way done so the young’uns were a bit early for the performance. Nonetheless, at least they secured the best seats in this house.
Lykus and Logan, like most people their age, headed to the bar. A wooden drum of joy spilled out their ale and off they want to join their next singalong. The froth of their beers quickly thinned as it ended up on the floor in celebraterary cheer. “Ho ho ho, beer and rum – we’ll keep drinking till morning come”. Callan the harpist was slightly dissappointed with her choice of song to play along to; preferring a more spiritual, soothing melody to show off her skills to. She was merely heard over the banging of bongos and clattered glasses, let alone the ‘singing’ of dozens of high and drunken teens.
But not for long, all cheer stopped for a moment and a silence plagued the crowd. All eyes looked up in wonder at a trail of fire shooting up above, a flaming arrow heading for their hearts. Yet fear was not upon them, it was anticipation. A moment of wonder overcame them before it erupted in golden trickles: “Bang, ka ripple!”. Pagona had begun his work; letting off his first firework. Cheers immediately resumed, followed by the exploding of the second: a more brilliant attempt, blanketing the gold in ripples of red: mirroring the neighbouring poppy fields, before dissapearing in faint particles of smoke. One by one they exploded, complimenting all the gods of light with various colours of the spectrum and colouring the sky in a variety of shapes and sizes.
As he looked up upon the brilliant show, Lykus realised in the corner of his eye that his glass was empty: the only criminal act in this town, and something punishable by having to get up from his hazy slumber and make his way over to the bar. It was like he was wading through a cornfield. He slipped through huge crowds of slightly taller people with nobody noticing and with him having to use his arm to carve out a path. He eventually plonked his glass down on the wooden side; welcomed with a blonde smile and a golden refill. He got stuck into both at once, alternating between sips and slipping compliments to the beautiful barmaid; subconconsciously knowing that he was the sixty sixth person to attempt it in the same hour. She took everything in honour and her smile grew bigger, though Lykus’ concentration span was pretty small and not before long he found himself in another area of the field; not knowing or caring how he ended up there. He was back beside his friend Logan and Terrick from across the stream.
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated :D
In short, I want to create a kind of cyberpunk tale set in the past, in the midst of a crusade. Instead of the story being set in the future, in a overly steel and technological city, the tale is set in a grand ancient city which has been corrupted by a new religion. The equivalent to surfing the internet is preying: people going to the temples and communcating to the 'angels' who the civillians foolishly believe are real angels who'll answer their prayers. Little do they know that a galactic empire has realised troop invasions are countr-productive and have decided to expand their influence by taking over planets spiritually before they arrive there, so their arrival is seen of that as a god, not as an invader.
These 'angels' are merely people in call centres trying their hardest to corrupt the minds of the citizens on the planet. However, some rebels have infiltrated these call centres and sneakily relay details to the protaganists in the novel to make them realise what is going on.
In the story I want to create this huge spiritual metropolis which feels incredibly dark and where the charecters feel totally overwhelmed. I want witch burnings of pagans, calls for crusades to be waged on far away lands, mysterious plagues to keep the population in check and dark preachers from far away planets who have powers incomprehensible to the local population.
Anyways last night I took a huge step and actually wrote something down, instead of just planning... Here goes:
The night was cold beyond yonder, but the fumes were vapourising the way. A small red ember casually burning in a mist of smoke, sitting in front of a beard of curly grey: an aura of mystique. He rhythmly chanted verses of alien tongues and exhaled choruses of smoke as his audience sang along to the words merrily. The hazey mist of various narcotics gave the sense of a monochrome summer: heat trails of indica sativa; a full moon barely illuminating the grasses and trees, sunburning the people in a calming flare and feeling of aliveness.
The song came to a close and the grounds echoes in cheers; “cheers” they cried, and a far off group dove into another song, this one fuelled more by the senses of ale and accompanied by the beat of clinging glasses. Pagonis took another toke, long and hard as he embraced his time out; laying beneath the moon, stars and a dense constellation of fumes on a bed of grass and hay. His audience slowly begun to scatter mainly to two other locations: the bar and the main area, with a small minority making way to the nearby hill. Pagona slipped into their ear that he was to be letting off some ancient magic soon, a beautiful ecstatic explosion of his latest concoctions. Well, after he’d finished off his pipe that is, and that was half way done so the young’uns were a bit early for the performance. Nonetheless, at least they secured the best seats in this house.
Lykus and Logan, like most people their age, headed to the bar. A wooden drum of joy spilled out their ale and off they want to join their next singalong. The froth of their beers quickly thinned as it ended up on the floor in celebraterary cheer. “Ho ho ho, beer and rum – we’ll keep drinking till morning come”. Callan the harpist was slightly dissappointed with her choice of song to play along to; preferring a more spiritual, soothing melody to show off her skills to. She was merely heard over the banging of bongos and clattered glasses, let alone the ‘singing’ of dozens of high and drunken teens.
But not for long, all cheer stopped for a moment and a silence plagued the crowd. All eyes looked up in wonder at a trail of fire shooting up above, a flaming arrow heading for their hearts. Yet fear was not upon them, it was anticipation. A moment of wonder overcame them before it erupted in golden trickles: “Bang, ka ripple!”. Pagona had begun his work; letting off his first firework. Cheers immediately resumed, followed by the exploding of the second: a more brilliant attempt, blanketing the gold in ripples of red: mirroring the neighbouring poppy fields, before dissapearing in faint particles of smoke. One by one they exploded, complimenting all the gods of light with various colours of the spectrum and colouring the sky in a variety of shapes and sizes.
As he looked up upon the brilliant show, Lykus realised in the corner of his eye that his glass was empty: the only criminal act in this town, and something punishable by having to get up from his hazy slumber and make his way over to the bar. It was like he was wading through a cornfield. He slipped through huge crowds of slightly taller people with nobody noticing and with him having to use his arm to carve out a path. He eventually plonked his glass down on the wooden side; welcomed with a blonde smile and a golden refill. He got stuck into both at once, alternating between sips and slipping compliments to the beautiful barmaid; subconconsciously knowing that he was the sixty sixth person to attempt it in the same hour. She took everything in honour and her smile grew bigger, though Lykus’ concentration span was pretty small and not before long he found himself in another area of the field; not knowing or caring how he ended up there. He was back beside his friend Logan and Terrick from across the stream.
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated :D