I can think up story ideas, but it's hard for me to put them into words. I go on spurts, like D4rk_ace (did I get that right?
)
Currently I'm working on a story with a mixture of Thief and WWI technology. Here I'll post it up.
This is all I have so far..
<[HH]Alikchi^R> maybe a bunch of thieves + assassins all competing for a job, a treasure..a..hrnng..*brainstorms*
<[HH]Alikchi^R> I'm SUPPOSED to be making a mission for FS2 right now, but I'm not
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> What if a contractor hired two different assassins for the same job?
<[HH]Alikchi^R> incentive
<[HH]Alikchi^R> the one who kills gets the money
<[HH]Alikchi^R> then of course you'd have a rivalry
<[HH]Alikchi^R> you'd end up weeding out the bad assassins and only the best would be left
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> what if a third assassin didn't know about the other two? =)
<[HH]Alikchi^R> the top two assassins of the town, on one job, assassinating the sheriff
<[HH]Alikchi^R> hmmm
<[HH]Alikchi^R> but the third assassin has to do it for personal reasons
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> hmhm
<[HH]Alikchi^R> cause the contractor wouldn't have the watching theri backs the whole time
<[HH]Alikchi^R> okay, so this sheriff, he's the closest we've got to a good guy
<[HH]Alikchi^R> this Medieval Mafia guy has two assassins, bows, arrows, and flintlock pistols etc, dispatched to kill them
<[HH]Alikchi^R> one who kills the sheriff gets the money
<[HH]Alikchi^R> in the meantime, this other guy, a thief, has broken out of jail, and is attempting revenge on this guy
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> Hmmmmm... what does the contractor stand to gain from this?
<[HH]Alikchi^R> he can traffic his drugs and crap a heck of a lot easier
<[HH]Alikchi^R> the sheriff's been cracking down on crime
<[HH]Alikchi^R> I'll have it from the point of view of these four people: the thief, the two assassins, and the sheriff himself
<[HH]Alikchi^R> and, of course, the sheriff won't be a nice guy either
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> okie dokie
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> of course not
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> he already sounds like a right bastard =P
<[HH]Alikchi^R> because he's indiscriminately burning down bars and entire housing complexes that are "full of outlaws"
<[HH]Alikchi^R> and of course, the brigands who lurk outside the city
<[HH]Alikchi^R> now for a time period and setting
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> thief setting thief thief
<[HH]Alikchi^R> yes that would be good
<[HH]Alikchi^R> How about this..a world of magic and technology, like Arcanum
<[HH]Alikchi^R> you'll see mages, you'll see trolls with World War I - era Maxim guns
<[HH]Alikchi^R> perfect setup for a mafia-esque type thing
<[HH]Dragonfly^C> sounds good
<[HH]Alikchi^R> Molotov cocktails..hmm..this will be fun
Tye woke to the sound of a machine gun.
The familiar roaring sound, the ripping, tearing resembling an entire company of soldiers firing their Tredegars at once, took him back to his days as a thief, the days he was free. "Everything was easier before the sheriff came," he muttered under his breath. Machine guns were a new thing. How the Sheriff had managed to get his bloody hands on one (or more?) before the military had gotten its share was a mystery. The machine gun finished its murderous work, the water jacket around its barrelhissing as it cooled the weapon. Through the tiny slit in the concrete roof of his cell he heard screams and moans. Either the sheriff was "striking back" against the "undesirables" of the city once again (that is, shooting prisoners or simply firing into suspicious-looking apartment buildings), or Uncle Luigi had decided it was time for a little striking back himself. More likely the former, the Mafia wasn't looking for a fight. The Mafia never wanted a fight. The boys in blue, however, did.
Tye sighed and rolled out of bed. He rolled over and out and landed on the concrete floor, like he did every day. After a few months in the Sheriff's prisons, you learned to wake up early, but not too early; fast, but not too fast. Every moment of sleep was treasured. You learned to sleep through machine gun fire. If you didn't, you'd be beaten awake and dragged off to interrogation. Everyone in his cell block woke up at the same time, even though he didn't know what that time was. Tye didn't know what day it was, either, no matter the month. All he knew is that he had to be awake right now.
Sure enough, one of the Sheriff's Constables swaggered through the cell block, screaming name after name after name.
He stopped at Tye's name. He always stopped at Tye's name, every day for the past however many months it had been. He always seemed shocked that Tye didn't have a last name, it threw him out of his last name, first name rhythm. "Here," Tye chirped, and the fat prison guard resentfully moved on. The last names
were called, and the guard stomped out again, trying to look menacing but barely passing the "laughable" mark.
It was back to sitting. What else was there to do? The bureacracy was either too stupid or too smart to use their prisoners as forced labor.
Tye fell asleep to the rhythmic pounding of his own, quite audible heartbeat.
