Oh god I suck pretty hard

Sorry again. Haven't written next bit yet. No excuse really. May have a bit of writers bock. Next friday.

I may have an excuse

No update. I feel pretty terrible and haven't got around to writing, my tongue is fucked up pretty majorly and lolepilespy. To attempt to make up for the lack of update you get to gawp at my tongue. Hooray for you.

HEY SUCAKAKAKAKAKAAAKS

Tom:
Today was pretty good. Me and Sam originnaly went to a party then we got kicked out for not being invited ;_; but we had the moral highground because we left when we were supposed to when

Sam:
Pretty cool i guess. I pretty much just summed this up in msn:

went to a party
59:00
got kicked out
59:05
came home
59:22
played gears 2 with tom college (you don't know him)
59:31
and drank whiskey and beer and cider


THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED FOLK.

Whiskey is fucking foul you guise. Shitsux.

The settlement man

Note: Miles is here :)

Chapter one

“Ugg.”

A crude stereotype, which is sadly true, the “caveman” is a simple creature, with simple urges. Eat, sleep, and reproduce. These are the things that drive it forwards. It has little to no morals and will do all three of these things with reckless abandon. It eats anything and everything, scarcely stopping to consider it’s waistline, it will sleep in the middle of the day, without a thought about all the cleaning that needs to be done and of course he will reproduce, without a moments consideration for what he may be bringing into the world and, indeed, with whom. However the story told here does not star these uncouth savages. We have business with a better class of homo sapiens, a new class of man.

They aren’t cavemen of course, to be a caveman one must live in a cave. The problem is public perception, smallprimitivesettlementman doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, you see? So caveman it became and caveman became engraved in the public subconscious. Boundaries were set as to what was classed as a caveman and without things like an accurate description it soon became a piece of “common knowledge.”The man in question broke the boundaries of pre-historic civilisation; the social norm did not exist to this man. He was an inventor, an explorer, a linguistic genius and much, much more. Without him, we would still be sat in a dank cave somewhere, fondly thinking of the animal we killed and ate today and falling asleep in the middle of the day. Like savages. We are, of course, much better off for if we were in that situation, most of you, would be dead. I do not think that the type of people who read this particular type of thing, usually have the strength and agility that is required for this sort of a life.

A strange word, Ugg, it is the very foundations of language as we know it, yet we have never known what it means. A strange word indeed. We know of what it becomes though. From “Ugg” to “Ugh” it has slowly changed, we assume over the ages. “Ugh” to “Huh”. The truth is of course that it all happened over five or ten minutes. “Huh” to “Hi” it became what it is today. A greeting. Intelligence, sparked in even the most primitive of life, can do a lot for a young race, unsteady on their feet as they travel through thick forests. How else will they make shelter? Fire? Food? As soon as this stage is done though, most races settle down, they are happy like this. They satisfy all their primal needs, they have no reason to change now and why should they? They are fine, fine as they are.

We visit a small community, sitting on what will one day be known as a beach. It is here that we see this man, this visionary, at his most vulnerable. He was not always as he is known to be. Once upon a time he was a mindless peon as well, toiling in the sun to catch food for the village. Sleeping, eating, reproducing. One day of course that all changed, fantastic isn’t it? The change just one person can make to the world.

“Ugg.”

Hello there.

Yeah, just making this quick post to say that I've decided to write things once a week instead if three times. This way the stuff should be better and longer. Had a pretty boring week, didn't really do much :/

Bye.

Caps

Note: I woke up this morning feeling pretty terrible. Didn't feel like writing, heres an old script I was working on instead. Sorry.

SCENE ONE (ORIGINS OF FEAR)

MARK is seen walking around a main road, the camera become POV and turns to shop signs using all capital letters or mainly capital letters. The camera is back on him and he is starting to look uncomfortable. He ducks into a side road with only houses (Possibly sees a to let or for sale sign with caps on) MARK bumps into his friend who is walking to a bus stop.

Mark

Oh, Hi.

Otis

Hey Mark, what are you doing?

MARK

Oh, I'm just going home.

OTIS begins walking MARK follows.

OTIS

You don't live this way.

MARK

Oh yeah, I.. I forgot.

OTIS

Do you want to come with me to my house? You live pretty close.

MARK

No, no. It's alright I'll walk it.

OTIS

O.K. Stay calm and don't get too freaked out.

MARK

Yeah, I'll try.

OTIS gets on a bus and leaves Mark in front of a shop, the sign has got only capital letters. MARK runs out of the road into a road with just houses again. Scene finishes.

SCENE TWO (Overcoming terror)

We see MARK sitting down at his house writing on paper, it is him trying to write down capital letters but he always writes down half of it and stops as if it hurts him to write them. He retires for the night.

It is now inside MARK's dream. He dreams of himself being older, running at the sight of capital letters. We see him in a suit going in for a job interview. He is told to sit down by someone off screen. The camera is now POV he looks around the office. He sees posters with capital letters on and tries to stay calm.

Interviewer

It says here you have Hoofdaphobia?

MARK

*Stammers* Yes

INTERVIEWER

Well, can you tell me what it is?

MARK

It's going to sound stupid, but it's a fear of capital letters.

INTERVIEWER

Oh I see, how will you be planning on doing your job?

MARK

I will just have to deal with my fear.

INTERVIEWER

Like this?

Interviewer stands up, he has a capital I on his shirt. MARK looks shocked and runs out, INTERVIEWER is laughing. MARK runs away and into OTIS.

MARK

Oh thank god. Otis, they are after me.

Otis takes off shirt and reveals t-shirt underneath with a capital M on. Dream ends.

MARK wakes up and grabs a bag, he quickly shoves some clothes in the bag. He grabs a small book and sneaks out of his house. It is getting dark outside, we see MARK quickly walk away out of his road. He settles down and leans against a wall, he gets a pen out and starts writing in the book. We hear what he is writing.

MARK (writing)

I've left civilization. Everyone had abandoned me, even Otis. I can't live in the city, my fear jumps at me from every direction. I'm leaving for the wilderness.

We see MARK walking away and the scene ends.

Scene three (the wilderness)

Katamari March

Note: I didn't think that a comic book script would be good enough so i wrote a very short story about katamari instead. If you want to see the script just tell me and I'll post it on friday.

My ball rolls down a ever stretching hill. It picks up the grass, the flowers, the trees, the ground. I start small, lifting pennies and toys. I grow quickly, gathering mass as my rolling sphere reaches the maximum it can be. It becomes a star, a planet, a meteor. It becomes anything. I recreate a universe, step-by-step, planet-by-planet. My father’s guiding hand shows me the way to go, the areas of the world slowly being unlocked. My recreation is a mere portion of the greatness of the original. My rolling star; collecting the fragments of this, the final perfect world, he hopes to create a galaxy; an imperfect one but a galaxy nonetheless. The ball is rolling and rolling, lifting the very continents themselves. How many lives must be sacrificed for my king? This world is littered with life and I scoop it up without any thought. England, Japan, North America. They have all fallen under the weight of this ball.

We have a lift-off. The ball has escaped the pull of the planet and is flying free in space. Basic physics do not hamper my journey; I pull in the stars from the sky, as they are suddenly specks. All the prior made planets, al the lives sacrificed are added to my ever-growing death toll. The sun is my target and I roll it up as easily as the rest. This stops now. I begin to slow but from the corner of my eye, the king of all cosmos sits in space, staring at me. I am weak and must oblige. The ball rolls towards the black hole. Not stopping to collide with more planets, it simply goes through them now; they are added to the ball. The hole is plugged. This makes no sense. The matter used against it, it begins its long battle against it. I say it was plugged; it was simply stopped. The hole will slowly deteriorate until one day, it will be safe to re-populate.

This is Katamari Damacy.

The grey city

Note: For Wednesday's entry I am going to write a script of the first comic book featuring this character.

January 30th, 2030

A man lays dead in the alley, bullet wounds in back, pool of blood beneath him. Regulation bullets are ploughed deep into his wounds and the mark of the enclave scars his head. A bag full of clothes and food lays next to him. Stolen. In this hell-hole the government call our country’s capital city the law is upheld to the extremes. His man stole some food, probably for his starving family. He is dressed in rags and is incredibly thin. Not sure how he survived this long without food. As I say this, the enclave will be heading to his family; likely somewhere in one of the homeless areas, hunting them down and killing them. This city has an infection. More deadly than any threat the human race had faced yet. Corruption. This city has an infection and I, I’m the cure.

February 5th, 2030

Investigation continues. The police are ever more vigilant, they cover the public’s head with wool. Drown out the sights, the smells, the sounds. The brutal force of the enclave; seen but ignored. The smell of burning corpses; noticed but ignored. The sound of children crying, as their families are killed in front of them; heard but ignored. While most of the people of the upper classes, simply walk past. Ignoring everything happening around them, I cannot do that. I must take action. The situation of my home today is appalling. It all comes back to the police. They sit in their office chairs, safe from the very people they are supposed to be protecting. Their egos are only satisfied by the amount of power they hold, they tell someone to do something and it is done, anything is done for them. They believe themselves immune from the law, they put aside morals to fuel their ego. Well, morals are my law and no-one escapes my judgement.

February 12th, 2030

I can feel the police moving in on me, they won’t catch me, they never do. Funny thing about a costume and mask, the “crimes” you commit while attached to it, stay with it. I can take the costume off and disappear into obscurity. The enclave cameras buzz overhead, capturing the image of an unfamiliar face. I haven’t taken my costume off in months, but now more then ever I must stay hidden. The corruption of this place sickens me. I have been living among these people for only a few hours and I can already tell that the time spent away from bringing justice to the world will be a living hell. For now I will stop making entries into this. It’s not he normal thing to be doing, now is it?

February 18th, 2030

My self-inflicted confinement from the streets of this diseased city has left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I must continue the investigation as a means of…distraction. Found gun discarded in bins nearby, standard issue pistol. My gloves allow interaction, without risk of tainting evidence. The gun is lifted out of the bin, I slowly pocket it and am on my way. I realise now how much I am distracted from my cause, the police are on a never-ending manhunt. I am the deer in their headlights. I arrive home and peel off my mask. I lay it down on the counter and hang my coat up. The gun is wrapped up in a parcel, soon to be delivered. The stamp and address on the package assure it’s safe arrival at the police station. This gun is a symbol of the many Americanisms we have let, come in and poison our country from within. It ends here. I send a note with it, it reads as follows:

The Police of London, now known as City ten, have drawn the line. I found the attached weapon dumped near the body of a civilian, the civilian in question was starved, cold and stealing, for his family. If these senseless acts of violence do not stop, I shall not rest until the people responsible for these acts against the basic moral fibre of the human race have been silenced. This is your last warning, stop immediately or face redemption.

February 25th, 2030

The police have made their move and in this, their declaration of war. I found a man, laying beside the other, in the same situation. There is a note on his body. “Consider this” It says, “the very moral grey area you fight for is held by us. We kill but only the criminals of the world; it is a crime for the greater good. The men who lay before you are criminals, as you have now announced yourself to be.”

They are wrong. They are the true criminals; they prey on the weak whilst I prey on the unjust. Their set of morals is comparable to the stripes on a zebra crossing; black or white, no middle ground. How can they claim to fight crime when they kill these men and let rapists and killers loose? Corrupt, evil men. I would sooner kill myself then side with one of them. This may be the last entry; I begin my reign of justice tonight.