Keph Writes Stuff with Pictures

Discussion in 'Writers' Corner' started by Kephras, Feb 14, 2020.

  1. "But Keph, don't you already have a thread for all your writing?"
    "That's for stuff that doesn't have pictures."


    More and more games these days have some kind of camera or photo-mode for taking fancy screenshots. And I, being me, am prone to writing up story bits to go along with those screenshots, or just taking them in such a way as they tell a story for me. Expect a fair variety of games, but generally speaking, the more customization the game offers and the more flexible the camera system, the more likely it is to show up here.

    ⚠ Warning ⚠
    This should be obvious, but the thread's gonna be a bit heavy on images.
    They won't be in spoiler tags (as that would defeat the point).

    Enjoy!
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  2. 0/10 not enough images
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  3. Training Session
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    "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

    Cass smirked, nodding confidently. "Are you?" she retorted. In truth, she wasn't at all certain how she'd deal with Aya's newfound strength, but she had a few new tricks of her own and wasn't about to let the elder halfbreed get the better of her. Hesitation was weakness, and Cass refused to show any to her opponent.

    Unfazed, Aya took up a defensive stance. "Then let's begin."




    The arena rang with the sound of metal clashing on metal. Cass unleashed flurry after flurry of strikes, seeking out a weakness in Aya's defense. But again and again, her opponent evaded or deflected the blows with almost supernatural agility. Where Aya had learned this new art, Cass could only guess at, but she had to admit it was damn effective.

    Aya, however, was only getting warmed up.




    The conjured axe manifested so swiftly, Cass barely had time to react. In less than a heartbeat, she was on her back against the cool stone tiles, an ache blooming in her left shoulder where the axe's haft struck her. And still it seemed Aya was holding back, forcing Cass to push herself to the limit just to keep up.

    But Cass wasn't ready to admit defeat just yet. Swiftly, she kicked her heels up, rolling backward into a crouching stance and signaling her companion POD. A yellow-white lance of energy skewered the arena, narrowly missing Aya. Utilizing the small machine had taken some practice to integrate into her fighting style, a radical departure from the dual knives she used to employ. For this sparring match however, Cass was beganing to think she'd have been better off sticking to what she knew best.



    The afternoon wore on. The two halfbreeds traded blows, neither quite gaining the upper hand, but to Cass it seemed Aya was in control the entire time. Cool, calculating, precise, her strikes just enough to deter, her movements just enough to counter. Never tiring, never faltering, never showing a moment's indecision.

    Cass meanwhile felt her stamina ebbing. In a short, decisive sparring session, she had the upper hand, but protracted battle was tiring her out. Eventually, weariness took its toll.




    "Ngh. Dammit," she groaned, rubbing her head as she sat up. "Where'd you learn this stuff Aya?"

    "Everywhere," the red-headed feline answered, helping Cass to her feet. "Old tomes in the archives, fragments in the local ruins, even a tip or two from your brother, if you can believe that. The power's been there the whole time, I just wasn't using it correctly. Now that I've figured out how, well..." She trailed off with a shrug.



    Cass rolled her eyes. "Lucky me," she grumbled, but her characteristic smirk belied any hard feelings. "Maybe next time you can teach me some of those new moves."

    "Maybe next time," Aya replied. "Right now, I'd like to visit the market before Duke closes. I heard he got some fresh melon in yesterday and I've been dying to try it." Cass laughed.

    "You're not fooling anyone. You just want to see Duke."

    Aya grinned. "I wouldn't mind trying some of him, either. Come on, it's getting late."


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    Marie is a bit of a Soulcalibur fan, so one Christmas I suggested it to my folks as a possible gift idea. What I didn't realize is that SCV has a pretty robust character creation system... we both put a lot of time into SCV coming up with a whole cast of fun characters. Fast-forward a few years, SCVI is announced for the PC - no more fiddling with her X360 and video-capture hardware just to share our creations. Even better, they added Nvidia Ansel support last year, which makes it possible to take some really interesting screens in-game and share not just the created characters but their stories as well.
  4. Awakenings pt.1
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    Moonlight filtered through the forest canopy, casting a blue haze over the fallen leaves and undergrowth. It was bright tonight, Vaelyn noted, far brighter than she was used to. She wove her steps skillfully among the tree roots and ferns, her hooves barely a whisper to betray her presence as she patrolled the forest. Still, with the moon so full and heavy overhead, there was little in the way of darkness even among the shadows of the trees. It was less cover than she was accustomed to.

    It also made spotting the intruder that much easier. A tall, hulking form, and armored to judge by the brief glints of moonlight that reflected from it. Crouching, the satyr woman darted through the undergrowth, catching the figure just as it entered the clearing ahead.

    And stopped short as she recognized the leaf-patterned favor he wore around his neck. "Ortho...?"



    The knight whirled in surprise, one hand instinctively rising to the massive sword on his back. Recognizing Vaelyn, he relaxed - if only slightly. "H'lo goat," he greeted her. A lighthearted jibe between them, which fell utterly flat as Vaelyn's sharp ears picked up the strained edge in his voice.

    "Don't give me that, Ortho," she snapped. "What are you thinking, sneaking around in our woods at night? You know what would happen if it was Arden who caught you?"

    "Aye lass, I do," the knight answered. "Is he about tonight too? Best find him first, before It does."

    Vaelyn quirked an eyebrow. "It? What are you on about?"

    "Don't rightly know for sure. Been tracking... something, man-sized, maybe bigger. Leaves death in its wake. Grass blackened, earth scorched, animals decayed. Ain't natural, never seen the like before."

    "And you were planning to face it alone?" the satyr chided him. "You big idiot. These are our woods. Domor would have a fit if I let something like that just wander in without-"

    The crack of branches interrupted her, both warriors going silent as they surveyed the edges of the clearing. Something was indeed out there, and drawing nearer with each step. She could hear it now, heavy footsteps crunching dry leaves and ferns as it approached.




    Vaelyn spotted it first, a dark shape separating itself from the deep shadows of the trees. Was it her imagination, or was everything around it turning a deathly gray? Leaves drifted down from the branches above, falling from what should have been a strong healthy oak. Whatever this thing was, it permeated the area with a wrongness that made her feel sick even at this distance.

    She fought down the nausea with an angry bark. "Ortho, here!" Whatever it was, it had to be destroyed. For the sake of the woods - for the sake of her home. For the sake of life. She didn't wait for the knight to answer her, hurling herself at the creature.




    "What do you hope to accomplish?"

    Piercing violet eyes glared down at her as it shrugged off her attack. The deathly aura was so much stronger up close, Vaelyn could hardly stand it. Her knees buckled, stomach churning as it took all her will to face down the monster. Too late, she saw its weapon arc forward.




    "Vaelyn...!" Ortho gripped his sword tightly, his gaze fixed on the monster standing over her body. To his relief, her chest was still moving - barely. "Dammit lass," he growled, then louder, "Alright ye soulless bastard! Ye want a taste? C'mon then!"

    The withered black figure looked up from its handiwork, staring through Ortho's faceplate, eyes, into his heart it seemed. The knight's blood turned to icy slush in his veins, chills running from his spine straight to his toes.

    "A 'taste'? No," it replied, its voice as deep and thunderous as an avalanche. "You will be consumed."





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    Soulcalibur 6 added a single-player "Libra of Soul" mode, which I found to be a fairly interesting departure from the usual arcade ladder of fighting games. But one thing that quickly began to bug me was how utterly boring and generic the random "knights" or "bandits" you encounter can be. As robust as SCVI's creation is, you'd think the devs could've put just a tiny bit more effort into the mooks you battle.

    Ortho is one of the "Knights" I created as a means... well, mostly to protest that. I can't actually replace the random fighters in Libra with my own (that I know of), but it makes me feel better to have made something more interesting than the dull-as-dishwater defaults.

    Vaelyn and "The Withered One" also belong to a set of creations, in this case a village of Satyrs and a cabal of evil deities (respectively).
  5. Estragement
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    Salty brine stung Rensa's nose as she waited on the pier. The tide was coming in, foamy waves splashing ever-higher against the pier's stonework, then whipped into a fine mist by gusts of cold air. A storm was moving in from the sea as well, and judging by the thick dark clouds already massing overhead, it was likely to be a bad one. Ill omens, to be sure. But where her sister Rasha was concerned, she'd come to expect such circumstances.

    A heavy sigh escaped Rensa's chest. She'd managed to track her sister this far, but she still had no idea how to confront Rasha even if she was able to catch up to her estranged sibling. The trail hadn't been hard to follow - Rasha's penchant for bloodletting had some folks in the taverns calling her the 'Red Queen' now. Her reputation was the reason Rensa had taken up the sword in the first place. The thought of a family member being responsible for those sort of atrocities...

    "Rasha, how could you?" she muttered to herself.

    "Because I enjoy it," came the unexpected reply.



    Rensa turned, silently berating herself for her inattention. There stood Rasha on the pier behind her, weapon already in hand. At least my information was correct... "You'd draw steel on your own blood, Ras?"

    If the remark stung, Rasha hid it well. "For a high enough price, maybe. Especially when she comes looking for me in Hunter's gear. A girl's got to protect herself, after all."



    "Protect yourself? I didn't come here hunting you, Ras. I just wanted to talk."

    "No? I'm almost disappointed," Rasha chided her. "It would've been poetic, don't you think? But alright, talk. Just be quick, I have a ship to catch and a contract to finish, both before that storm reaches us."



    Rensa's heart was twisting itself into knots. The trail of bodies, the bloodstained sword in her sister's hand, the callous dismissive tone in her voice - this wasn't the sister she once knew. "Ras, what happened to you?"

    "What happened...?" Rasha laughed. "You mean like, 'I was traumatized by an abusive man,' or 'the cruelty of the world corrupted my spirit in a moment of weakness?' Is that what you're looking to hear?" Her laughter turned to a quiet snarl. "Sorry to disappoint you, sister dear, but I chose this path on my own. I enjoy my work - it's fun, and they pay me for it. Many pay extra, in fact, just for my 'special' touch."

    Rasha's words cut through the knot as surely as any real blade. "My sister was never that kind of monster."

    "Then you never knew your sister." The chainsword unfurled, its links burning with ominous violet flames. "Now get out of here. I've got a job to do."



    "No."

    Rensa forced the word through gritted teeth. Her head was spinning, her heart in turmoil, her spirit an echo of the canvas sails in the harbor around her as it was lashed by mad tempests. She needed an anchor. She needed to fight. This bloodthirsty monster wasn't the Rasha she once knew.

    Maybe if she beat the monster, her real sister could return. But the Beast in front of her, the one wearing her sister's face and sullying her name, was not accustomed to taking 'no' for an answer.




    The bladed links bit deep into Rensa's side, scarring the bits of metal and skintight leather that were her armor. This is the pain she brings others. The words were a beacon in her mind, a flame to fuel her determination. No more. I won't let her hurt anyone else.

    Even before setting foot on the pier, Rensa wondered if she could bring herself to fight her own sibling. She realized now, she'd never had a choice. This is how it had to happen, how it was always bound to be. The real question was whether she had the will to triumph.




    The counterattack caught Rasha completely by surprise, sending her tumbling over the slick stonework. Feeling slightly dazed, she pulled herself to her feet, wiping a trickle of blood from her lip.



    "Not bad," she growled. "Been a while since anyone made me bleed. Don't expect to get any more from me, though."

    "I'm not here to bleed you," Rensa bit back. "I'm here to stop you. The monster you've become - that dies today."

    Rasha snorted derisively. "Such drama! Come on then, little sister, come slay this 'monster'!"





    One moment, Rasha was hurled into the air, Rensa's blade striking everywhere at once in sudden fury. In the next, she crashed to the ground, cracking tiles as the breath was driven from her lungs.



    It did not return with her first strangled gasp, or the one that followed. As panic flooded her empty, starving lungs, a small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. Absurd as it seemed, she felt... proud of her younger sibling. Rensa was far stronger than she'd realized.

    Whatever other thoughts may have followed became lost in a suffocating haze of darkness.

    Rensa knelt beside her sister, checking the elder's neck for a pulse. "Good," she whispered, finding the vein still pumping. Behind her, sailors clamored on the ship's deck, final call for casting off. Remembering what Rasha had said, she searched the other's clothing swiftly - and smiled as she found a folded bit of parchment in her sister's left stocking.

    'Contract for the assassination of one Frederick Duvall, Esquire, sole heir to the estates of his father, James Duvall IV.' I'm afraid you'll be missing the bounty on that one, dear sister. Without hesitation, she tore the parchment to scraps and dumped it over the edge of the pier.



    As the ship departed, Rensa spared a backwards glance at Rasha's prone figure. How the other had come to be possessed by such bloodthirst was a mystery, but if the Beast could not be tamed by battle alone, perhaps it could be starved. If this defeat didn't awaken the sister she remembered, then they would certainly meet again. Rasha took contracts to steal life and shed blood - Rensa would do the opposite, and deny the Beast what it craved. Thus weakened, maybe her sister could return to her senses at last...


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    Oh, this was a fun one. The story between these two had been building in my head for a while, but I had no idea how they'd ever actually resolve that conflict. The above tale is the result of me wanting to show off Rensa's alternate costume (this is her original look), and the story portion just fell into place naturally.
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  6. Word about this thread even found its way to Steam, where it was disclosed to me by one of my Steam friends!
    (sorry for the wee dramatics, but you have to admit that it sounded cool! :cool:).

    Haven't read everything just yet (that's gonna take a while, just got home and read the mystery PM I referred to) but I'm already loving it!

    Quality games (and IMO Minecraft also falls within that category) can indeed spark tons of ideas for storytelling. And this is pretty good stuff IMO!

    Thanks for sharing Keph!
    607, BreezyMan and Kephras like this.
  7. I'll read the Overwatch (at least that's what it looked like at a glance) stories later!
    I wanted to ask, though: haven't you done several of these with Skyrim?
    Kephras likes this.
  8. Soulcalibur 6 actually, not Overwatch ;) But yes, I had a few in the old Skyrim thread as well. I suppose I could repost them here, for the sake of completeness, but it feels a little silly to have the same stuff posted twice in different threads.

    Appreciate the comment! And yes, there are quite a few games that spark storytelling on their own. I've been having fun with Soulcalibur, and there's more of that to come certainly, but also games like No Man's Sky, Skyrim (as 607 mentioned), and maybe Conan Exiles as well.

    How about now, sassypants?
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  9. 10/10, enough pictures.
    However, the pants will remain sassy.
    Kephras likes this.
  10. The Scouts of Tolbrynd
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    It isn't a particularly stimulating job, Lawrence told himself for the hundredth time, but at least it's peaceful. This was the third month of his assignment, floating among the mountain peaks with his fellow scouts, surveying the gloomy mist-shrouded horizon for signs of trouble. Trouble, of course, that never came. After all, the mountains were all but impassable without a flying mechanism, and the Duke's flyers were far superior to anything the neighboring islands had yet devised. Even the unarmed balloon in which he sat was a substantial deterrent.




    Of course, Fate's sense of humor being what it was, Lawrence found his thoughts interrupted by alarmed shouting. Dutifully, he picked up his spy glasses and peered into the gloomy clouds. There was little to see at first except swirling shadows, rocky spires, and a flock of white seabirds. As he looked on however, he noticed the birds were in something of a panic. Was it possible that some lunatic warlord was actually attempting to brave the peaks?

    Seconds later, "possible" gave way to dead certainty as the balloon at the furthest end of the pass became shredded canvas and the scout's alert turned to a rapidly fading scream. Where the scout had floated, Lawrence could now make out a dark shape hovering in the hazy gloom.



    But... what in the Devil's name was it? The strange contraption was nothing he could put name to. His armored mittens struggled with the lens piece as he tried to focus on the distant shape, only to find its image was already as clear as he could make it.



    Like the Duke's flying freighters, it had a set of whirling fan blades on the top - but where the Duke's vessels mounted four, one to each corner, this only had two stacked directly atop each other. Nor did it seem made of wood, unless that wood had been finely sanded, polished, and blackened.

    A loud tearing noise broke his concentration, and he looked up.



    "Oh." As gravity sent him on his one-way trip back to earth, Lawrence had just enough time to reflect on how absurdly unfair the whole encounter was. Worst of all, his bunkmate James had squarely beaten the pants off him in a game of cards last night and now he'd have no opportunity to reclaim his lost pay.

    Though, judging by the dismayed shout overhead, James would be joining him shortly.



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    Besiege is a game where you can conquer knights, castles, and mystic ruins with an attack helicopter.
    I don't really know what more needs to be said.
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