Future Imperfect: A very short draftFuture Imperfect: An insufficient draft for A Mock-up game setting of kitchen-sink inanity
Humanity goes in unending cycles: Zealous ignorance followed by enlightenment, insulting misogyny followed by militant misandrism, and iron-clad empires followed by other iron-clad empires posing as democracies.
The planet itself was no different.
It was a secret to no one (at least no one within the right circles) that the planet itself goes through cycles in which magic comes and goes to come back again later on. Places like the infamous Hangar-51 were full of relics of old magical civilizations, safely hidden in order to protect the people from knowledge that might otherwise drive them insane (like the knowledge that we didn't really have to put up with the global village's last Cthonian economy model, but that's neither here nor there).
It was rumored among conspiracy theorists that the 20th century was a full century of preparations for the inevitable: Development of
Intel Inside, and then some"Sir, if you have anything to say, do so in an orderly manner, or I'll have you thrown out" the judge said, looking at the young man who barged uninvited in the court room barely one minute ago. The young man could see in the judge the jaded stare of someone who not only has watched society change immensely in very little time, but who has also had to deal with a good share of it. The biggest change perhaps, was the resurgence of magic in the world, something which took the world by storm and threatened to tear society to pieces. Even today, the legal system still had to make amends and addendums on a nearly monthly basis in order to try to remain all-encompasive in a society prone to having the strange becoming commonplace.
"I will, your honor." The young man said bringing a cart full of boxes of unopened, top of the line laptops.
"In order for your words to be recorded and acknowledged, young man, please give the notary your name and Global Identification Number," the judge sternly r
On the Whispering WayOn the Whispering Way (A fragment of a book of shadows)
The young teen flipped through the pages of the leather-bound tome. Despite its age, the book was still in remarkable condition almost like a grimoire.
"So you're a necromancer dad, no wonder you keep to yourself like you do" the girl said to herself as she ran fingers through her short, raven tresses. Her big, emerald eyes of elven half-blood went through the paragraphs in spite of the most insufficient light she used to read, skipping pages at random, stopping on paragraphs that called her:
Almost every scholar of the black arts is familiar to some degree with The Whispering Way, a philosophy which seeks perfection in stasis, and claims the world must die in order for it to forever live. That, at least, is the assumed philosophical justification for the actual whispering way, necromancy's most prized secret, the immortality formula.
I won't claim to have in my possession the complete se
Mouthy UpstartThe circular lecture hall shone with the rays of midday that came through the tall, clear gothic windows and into the polished marble floor of the hall's bottom, where an elderly man in the black and gold robes proper of the Wise Council paced back and forth behind his podium, addressing his audience with the tone of someone who has done this same thing for decades.
"Skeletons and zombies are evil, even though they are mindless. This is because undeath itself is a naturally evil force, just as fire is naturally hot."
His audience, in turn, listened in silence and, at least most of them, with great interest. Enchantments in the room reduced both glare from the sun as well as excess heat to comfortable levels. Proximity with the podium also enhanced the voice of the speaker to be clearly heard anywhere in the room, reducing the possible causes of a listener not to dedicate his full attention to a lecture to personal causes. This was the case with a young, short-haired woman listen
Superhawke Test ScriptPAGE 1:
This page is divided into four pannels, with the first panel bleeding on the page, extending from side to side of the page and using the top half. The other three panels are arranged next to each other on the bottom half (using the same row).
Long shot at Amanda's cubicle at INN building. The camera is facing Amanda's desk as if the dolly was standing at her cubicle's doorstep. Amanda is seated, her chair facing Nick, who is leaning against a wall with an unhappy face, his shoulders are slouching slightly and there's a foam cup of coffee in his hand. Amanda is wearing her usual suit, impeccably groomed as always. Nick is wearing his usual blue suit, but no jacket. Near Amanda's computer is a small, portable T.V. Her desk has also a couple of framed pictures, a plushie, and a foam cup of coffee.
Amanda: I don't know why you're always like this. You get screen time, you're well-liked, people know y
Kick the Chair"The money is over there why won't you take it!? What did I do to you!?" Louie's voice quivered as he frantically fumbled in the dark, chased inside his own house by an armed man who answered with the casual yet condescending tone of a friend who's helping you fix your car after you wrecked it."Getting a price on your head man, that's what you did!" That's when Louie realized this man represented the law.
Back in the first half of the 21th century, right-wing groups took advantage of the populace's increasing inconformity with a justice system that protected a criminal's rights above those of his victims to rally a crusade that ended in radical changes in several countries. Bills of rights were amended, penal codes were rewritten, and civilian human rights organizations were abolished. Using the earlier success of privatized penitentiaries as a model, the privatization of public security was the next logical step.
Louie was on the verge of tears. He had locked himself