Need Good Writer Contact me

I would like somone to make a walk through rpg story that i would use to make a an rpg with. Because im not good with story writer. and i would prefur it to be goood :) and if you ever do make a story and i used it you would be credited majorly. and you would get noticed hopefully so if any ones intested contact me at [email protected] (e-mail) Gl

Uh... not by email. Post it in the forum, otherwise you're making the forum completely useless.

I also sugges that you'd read the FAQ before anything else.

Sparkle~
-Fladian

I'm up ( and glad I can finally be useful ), but I don't suppose you've got anything you want me to write about? I don't know, if I write about some minor nobles machiavellian schemes for gaining the greatest power available in the northern nation of Veandear ( yeah, that's what I'm working on right now ) I somehow figure it might not fall into what you had planned.

yeah, some general outlines would be nice, then we can fill in the details.

Medevil based with knights and wizards or just as well as wc3 style

I would love to help design the story. I would love to help out with the making of it too! :P

I would like to help with stories. I like to make up them off the top of my head anyways. Is it too late to submit?

I don't think so. But for you story writers, we have a story writing forum out here somewhere. If you can link them to a story you made before, it is easier for giving an impression.

Everyone can say, "I'm excellent at stories," but what kind of backup do you have when you write that? People will have to believe your word, and that's it.
Some people don't necessarily have to prove them anymore in their words to show that they are excellent in a certain subject, but even they had to prove them sometime.

I havnt posted anything in the storywriting forum but...

I have a pair of stories i did in the past 6 months or so, both are histories for projects, but i like them none the less.

Yeah, of course, you can post them here on the forum as well. Though it would be kind of you people if you would just copy/paste the text from the document here on the forum.
(You see, I don't think I may open such things while I'm here at work :P)

Uh i would, but it would sort of make the thread reaaaally long, their not super long histories, but nither are they particulary short enough for forum posts.

Maybe not, but some people are not willing to download any file to read it. Or are not able to, like me.

Regardless how long it is. I highly doubt it will be longer than my usual posts ;)

Its a text file for godssake, 800 bytes O_o

If it was a story thread for posting those stories i'd stick them in a post, but as their completely off topic, i'll attach them.

Someone is asking for a story, and you post the story. What's off-topic about that?

Also, even if it was only 10 bytes, I just refuse to open any attachment at work. Quite logical.

THE INTERROGATION

The sun was bright, and although he was sleeping, he could feel it quiet permiously through his wifebeater. He looked down as he arose from his small, fore-cross bed to realize that once again, the people next door were fighting. He reached for his dark blue shirt and badge, sat up, and slammed against the wall with his hand four times and began yelling in a calm, collected voice.

"Joe, if your hitting her again, this'll be the third strike!"

The noises quieted, but he was too lazy to go check what's going on. What a good cop.

He swung off his clothes, climbed into the shower, and began to slowly relax his back after a long night of detective work. Two hours of sleep is always worth it, especially after we booked Albert Perez from the drug run. Who knows? I could get a day off someday. And although he really had several days off, full of morgue inspection, Perez-tracking, and interrogation. Not a cup of tea. However, this was the life he chose, and he enjoyed it. He was deep in relaxation when his alarm clock went off. He exited the shower and got on blue jeans, a dark green sweatshirt and put on his New Balance shoes. He put a small handgun in his back pocket, stored his badge in his wallet, and left his apartment. He waved for a taxi twice, but neither picked him up. Hmph. Am I black? As everyday, he hailed 5 times before finding a good cab.

"Abdul! How's the wife? No hard feelings, huh?"

The cab driver leaned back to reveal a husky Hindu man, burly and with a large scar across his right eye. Abdul Hazbrah, ex-criminal convicted for armed robbery.

"You pretended to be my partner and ended up giving me 9 months in prison. No hard feelings!? Damn, Erik, you stupid? Where you goin'?"

"Hey, buddy, that was 9 months ago. Jeez."

"Don't ever call me buddy again. Now where you goin'?!"

"Station. Grouch."

He always got on the nerves of his convicts by being very cheerful all the time. But today was a special day. Perez was busted and the drug ring was settling. Ring activity was decreasing, now all he had to worry about was car theives and gang violence occasionally.

"That'll be $17.50."

"Rip-off."

"You forgetting my 'cop-tax'. You a cop, you pay extra $6.50."

Nothing could ruin this day, however, even if Abdul the cab driver had taken several dollars in lunch money. He walked into the station nonchalantly, observing everything going on.

Jerry was stereotypically eating a donut, holding a box of artery-clogging Krispy Kreme, while sipping coffee between bites, brandishing his M87 Black Hole. The Black Hole was a designer shotgun he bought around 2 weeks ago and now he's been obsessed with it for as long as he's been around it. Naz, a young spanish girl who actually was very pretty and... daring was known for her bad decisions and quick-thinking. She was very impulsive and quick-to-fire. Some people went as far as to say she had little respect for human life. She was talking on the phone like a teenager, bragging about her 'new job'. She's been here for around 5 weeks. And the last person in the office hanging around was Harry "Tow" Aaron. He was a jack of all trades. Detective, cop, and squad leader. He could hack computers, read fingerprints, quickly find small clues, and had a sharp, quick tongue. He was also on the phone, probably talking with the commisioner.

"The guy is a freak. We're gonna need a top security SWAT team before we take him into the interrogation room. Serial killers are very dangerous, a lot more-so then the usual drug dealer or confused gang kid..."

It was time for Erik Damian, Detective and ex-soldier to go to work. But something was odd about this occurance. A serial killer? In HIS office? That's very rare. But it was time. Time to get to interrogation.

"Is this guy mine?"

"What's that's supposed to mean, Erik?" Snapped Tow.

"It MEANS that I'm going to interrogate him."

"It depends on what you mean by interrogate." Replied Tow. "We're gonna have you two sorrounded by around 30 R7-SWAT and he's gonna be in a straight jacket. He's a nut, I don't think you'll get anything out of this... But the Chief is in charge for this one. He requested YOU."

"Me?"

"Yes you. Now... Go."

Erik wheeled off to the interrogation room, activated the SWAT, and looked around the room. The room was dark, a blue-ish black color, sourrounded by bright red lights. The eyes of the SWAT.

The SWAT were robotic humanoids, programmed with a special AI that is completely unhackable. The SWAT were designed to kill instantly with a needlecannon. The cannon was dipped with a small bit of hemlock, and was aimed at the throat for maximum effeciency. The Hounds were the backbone of the military force and police force. Hounds were virtually invincible.

The prisoner, now mumbling to himself, was stirring, and it was Erik's chance to interrogate. Speaking into a small microphone attached to his ear and the inside of his cheek, he started with the basic interrogation form.

"Around the walls are R-Hounds. Make any sudden movements and you will feel a slight pain. Then you will die. Please answer my questions correctly if you desire to live.

"Now that that's out of the way, I can rip this thing off."

Erik pulled off the microphone and took out a black suitcase.

"Hmm... lets see... I got... 19 murders of major... media politicans? Political talk show hosts? Democratic political analysts? You're a damn psycho. Wait... It also says here you're a computer scientist... Wait... YOU're the guy working on the new SWAT AI chips!? I have enough evidence in this case to put you to stasis holding and brain nullification. I want you to answer, and maybe we'll give you the ability to think when you're locked in permanent motion for the rest of your life."

"Smells like dust to me."
The prisoner leaned up his head to reveal short, charcoal colored hair. His face was a mess, with strong cheeks coated with cuts and bruises.
"But I don't have much time. I have to tell you before this is over. The commisioner's listening too... I promised I'd tell him what's going on too." Whispered the prisoner.

The SWAT twitched awkwardly. He turned to see what it was doing, but snapped back quickly.

"Now we're getting somewhere. What do you mean by 'telling me before its over?'"

"I don't have time. Just let me tell it."

"Alright... Go ahead. Explain."

This guy is an open book. Since when we're serial killers this easy? He thought to himself.

"I didn't want this. Killing people was not what I applied for when I started designing the chip. But something big is going on beneath the surface. A new revolution is coming!"

"Where have I heard this before, you psycho. There is no 'revolution', You're rambl..."

"Wait! Here me out!"

"Waiting..."

"The communication era. An era where bloggers, newscasters, political analysts can all give their own twist to eveything that happened. Imagine a world where everyone thought different things. No one would agree on anything, because they all were convinced what THEY thought was right. Even though THEY were combining the theories of other individuals who thought for themselves. No one would trust anyone. Complete anarchy. No more goverment. I am one of the few who supports freedom, but wants to save us all by somehow stopping the overflow.

I'm not saying complete removal of freedom or freedom of speech. I wanted regulation! So I began research into... a rumor. That's why I used the SWAT research as a cover-up. IT forced me to do this. Something few speak of and fewer know. The few hackers who found it are dead, as I'll be soon, because it controls everything, it sees everything. The overflow has already begun! Through my studies... I have found a patch of unfiltered information building itself up into..."

He trailed off as a SWAT stepped out of the shadows. It twitched. Jerked. Then stood upright.

"Datalogs! Check my datalogs!"

"Stand down, SWAT. The interrogation is not over."

Jerked again.

"Stand down! Did anyone order you to move! There is no threat here."

The SWAT spoke in an iron, electronic voice.

"This interrogation IS over. He is the threat."

"WHAT!? YOU DISOBEYED AN ORDER!? STAND DOWN!"

They aren't programmed to do this?! What's going on?!

"Run! The AI! The overflow has begun!"

The SWAT's arm transformed into a pulse rifle and shot the man, ripping 3 holes in him. The man fell silently, no screaming, no shouting... As if he expected it. Erik stared at the Hound, horrified.

"He spoke too much." Said the SWAT, in it's dark, electronic voice.

"Error. Error. You are experiencing a heart attack. Sit down and I will assist-"

The Hound exploded in a burst of flames. Suddenly the other SWATs ran from the room, and began shooting everything in site.

"ERROR! ERROR!" The word echoed through the room, as officers fell silently. Chaos ensued but somehow, Erik escaped. He knew the hound's only weakness. It has a blindspot if you lie flat on the floor, so he shimmied on the floor under a ventilator and ran out of the building, into the city...

A red "18" was painted sloppily in blood by the victim's finger. A datapad was in the pocket of Erik's jacket.

END OF CHAPTER 1
POSSIBILITY

Erik locked himself up in his room and fell deep back into thought. Was this man telling the truth? What was he saying at the end? Was this guy crazy? Am I crazy? What does he mean by information? Just like, regular information, like my phone number? Why did he kill only...

He took his mind off the man by flipping on the TV. There was bound to be something about the SWAT incident on TV.

"WARNING! A series of chaotic events have unfolded in the northeastern section of New Manhatten. Several Precinct 18 SWAT, known as the virtually unbreakable robots who patrol the city at all times, have gone haywire. The robots have gone on a killing spree. The problem is currently under containment by SWAT7 Officers and R-Mechs. However, it is important to STAY INDOORS AT ALL TIME. The problem is believed to be connected to an ongoing virus released by malfunctioning nano-reactors in the southern West Side generator district...

In global news, United Europe has also been scheduled to declare war at..."

Probably a media coverup, as usual, and no one would know the...

He looked through the datapad and found an address. Wait a second, he thought to himself. The guy knew he was going to die, he knew something was after him. He must have left a trail. Something to follow. Something to find.

He ran to the address as fast as he could, hindered by the chaos of the city. Several apartments had been completely totaled and sirens blared in the distance. Shadows of people running disturbed Erik, but he paid no attention. He just kept running.... running....

END CHAPTER 2

------------------------------------------------------------

If you can't dazzle them with your brillance, then baffle them with your bullshit.