- Joined
- Mar 6, 2016
The KF Visual Novel Development Thread - Gremlins 3: Big Trouble in Atlanta
- Thread starter Gorgar
- Start date
blablabla
kiwifarms.net
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- Dec 29, 2019
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2016
NTR is a Hentai subgenre for cheating/cuckoldry.
I sincerely doubt that is in the direction your VN is going for.
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
You are absolutely correct.
Anyway, here's what I've done so far. Everything is incomplete mainly due to how much thought metaphors require—especially new ones. This is for the first 10 minutes of the visual novel.
I descend the creaking staircase toward the smell of pancakes permeating the house, my heart racing with excitement and nerves as I prepare to meet my parents.
Betty's Dad:
Good morning sleepyhead!
Betty:
Good morning!
A massive stack of pancakes greets me with a green-like substance hamfistedly spread between each pancake. The syrup drizzles down the sides, the sticky sweetness almost too much to bear, but hey, that's the life of the Garrisons.
I dig my fork into the soft, fluffy layers and take my first bite.
Betty's Dad:
Are you sure you packed everything? You seemed entirely out of it when you were in the bathroom.
Betty:
I did don't worry about it.
Betty's Dad:
Okay.
Betty's Mom:
Be sure to eat all of your breakfast! You'll need your strength from all that fishing this semester at Richard Blair High School.
The sudden taste of avocado starts to linger on my tongue. These aren't the regular pancakes you would find in a waffle house just off a highway.
Betty:
Richard Blair?
Betty's Dad:
He's a well-known poet, well-known except to the people named Betty Garrison.
My mother began to laugh, and as it filled the room, I then swallowed my bite of pancakes and reached for my orange juice.
Betty's Mom:
Oh, and speaking of Richard Blair, do me a favor, Betty.
As my mother leaned into my ear, I began drinking my Orange Juice. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she confides in me.
Betty's Mom:
When you arrive, try and find an older edition of Richard Blair's poems. One of my friends said a specific edition is good enough to eat and relatively healthy.
As I finished my portion, I began to think of the many questions in my head, but I set all of them aside and answered.
Betty:
Sure thing.
Betty's Dad:
A book you can eat?
Betty's Mom:
You must first heat it to the right temperature and add carrots to enhance the flavor.
As my parents delved deeper into discussing the mystical book, I shifted my attention to my pancakes. For now, all I can do is savor the taste of this breakfast.
-TRANSITIONARY STUFF HERE-
Betty's Dad:
So Diane, when do you think we'll be able to take down the Christmas tree?
Betty's Mom:
Oh, come on, Frank! You know that the tree is Betty's favorite activity.
Betty:
I said that to you when I was six years old.
Betty's Mom:
I keep forgetting how much time flies with you, Betty.
Betty's Dad:
I cast my line in solitude, the hours slipping by, unseen—the gentle lull of water's rhyme, a symphony of memories keen.
Betty:
You're quoting again! Just because you memorized some quotes from a book doesn't mean you're a mastermind!
Betty's Dad:
I thought you would like that since you love to fish! Plus, a quotation made me meet your mom, you know.
-STUFF ABOUT HOW CALIFORNIA WAS GIVEN TO THE USA-
Betty's Mom:
Have you figured out the route yet?
Betty's Dad:
We'll need to cut through US 5 and US 160 to reach the 5.
Betty's Mom:
Reasonable.
Betty's Dad:
Good morning sleepyhead!
Betty:
Good morning!
A massive stack of pancakes greets me with a green-like substance hamfistedly spread between each pancake. The syrup drizzles down the sides, the sticky sweetness almost too much to bear, but hey, that's the life of the Garrisons.
I dig my fork into the soft, fluffy layers and take my first bite.
Betty's Dad:
Are you sure you packed everything? You seemed entirely out of it when you were in the bathroom.
Betty:
I did don't worry about it.
Betty's Dad:
Okay.
Betty's Mom:
Be sure to eat all of your breakfast! You'll need your strength from all that fishing this semester at Richard Blair High School.
The sudden taste of avocado starts to linger on my tongue. These aren't the regular pancakes you would find in a waffle house just off a highway.
Betty:
Richard Blair?
Betty's Dad:
He's a well-known poet, well-known except to the people named Betty Garrison.
My mother began to laugh, and as it filled the room, I then swallowed my bite of pancakes and reached for my orange juice.
Betty's Mom:
Oh, and speaking of Richard Blair, do me a favor, Betty.
As my mother leaned into my ear, I began drinking my Orange Juice. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she confides in me.
Betty's Mom:
When you arrive, try and find an older edition of Richard Blair's poems. One of my friends said a specific edition is good enough to eat and relatively healthy.
As I finished my portion, I began to think of the many questions in my head, but I set all of them aside and answered.
Betty:
Sure thing.
Betty's Dad:
A book you can eat?
Betty's Mom:
You must first heat it to the right temperature and add carrots to enhance the flavor.
As my parents delved deeper into discussing the mystical book, I shifted my attention to my pancakes. For now, all I can do is savor the taste of this breakfast.
-TRANSITIONARY STUFF HERE-
Betty's Dad:
So Diane, when do you think we'll be able to take down the Christmas tree?
Betty's Mom:
Oh, come on, Frank! You know that the tree is Betty's favorite activity.
Betty:
I said that to you when I was six years old.
Betty's Mom:
I keep forgetting how much time flies with you, Betty.
Betty's Dad:
I cast my line in solitude, the hours slipping by, unseen—the gentle lull of water's rhyme, a symphony of memories keen.
Betty:
You're quoting again! Just because you memorized some quotes from a book doesn't mean you're a mastermind!
Betty's Dad:
I thought you would like that since you love to fish! Plus, a quotation made me meet your mom, you know.
-STUFF ABOUT HOW CALIFORNIA WAS GIVEN TO THE USA-
Betty's Mom:
Have you figured out the route yet?
Betty's Dad:
We'll need to cut through US 5 and US 160 to reach the 5.
Betty's Mom:
Reasonable.
For added context,
The pancakes represent California's high land prices. The syrup symbolizes corruption, with the sticky sweetness representing the allure of power that corrupts those in positions of authority. The avocado spread to show the hipness and a way to hide from the pain. The OJ is the fakeness, a solution to a problem that doesn't fix anything. The plate is the problem of homelessness.
The parents are like the authorities in California, full of holes.
I'm thinking of adding a scene like this later on, especially in the dialogue about land:
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
Alright, update!
I'm trying to fix up the above dialogue a bit.
For right now, I'm just going all over the place.
Here's what I got so far:
I'm trying to make Briar's Mother to be a bit like Don Corleone.
I'm trying to fix up the above dialogue a bit.
For right now, I'm just going all over the place.
Here's what I got so far:
Briar's Mother:
"I'll give you the things you need look out for. First the ten commandments. Second, the rest. No smoking, no shouting, no threats, no profanity, clothes should not expose the breasts or buttocks, no talking back, no lying, and no homosexuality."
I look back at Briar with a puzzled expression, <-garbage fix.
Betty:
"I'm sorry, what was the last?"
Briar's Mother:
"No homosexuality. That includes transvestism."
Betty:
"Are you homophobic?"
Briar lets out a stressed out sigh.
Briar's Sister:
"I don't think I want her in Briar's life mom."
Briar's Mother:
"No, no, no. Don't jump to assumptions yet-
Betty:
"I'm... I'm sorry for asking, it was dumb for me."
Briar's Mother:
"Don't apologize to me. The only dumb questions in the world are the ones that are never asked. We're not homophobic in the sense that we actively speak negatively outside our house, we don't allow it because it's against God."
I try to look as presentable to Briar as much as possible.
Betty:
"I understand."
Briar's Mother:
"A lot of people these days don't understand the rules... <-WORKKKK
"I'll give you the things you need look out for. First the ten commandments. Second, the rest. No smoking, no shouting, no threats, no profanity, clothes should not expose the breasts or buttocks, no talking back, no lying, and no homosexuality."
I look back at Briar with a puzzled expression, <-garbage fix.
Betty:
"I'm sorry, what was the last?"
Briar's Mother:
"No homosexuality. That includes transvestism."
Betty:
"Are you homophobic?"
Briar lets out a stressed out sigh.
Briar's Sister:
"I don't think I want her in Briar's life mom."
Briar's Mother:
"No, no, no. Don't jump to assumptions yet-
Betty:
"I'm... I'm sorry for asking, it was dumb for me."
Briar's Mother:
"Don't apologize to me. The only dumb questions in the world are the ones that are never asked. We're not homophobic in the sense that we actively speak negatively outside our house, we don't allow it because it's against God."
I try to look as presentable to Briar as much as possible.
Betty:
"I understand."
Briar's Mother:
"A lot of people these days don't understand the rules... <-WORKKKK
I'm trying to make Briar's Mother to be a bit like Don Corleone.
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
Zoo wee! Not a lot of actual writing today. Instead, I just researched how I should structure this thing. Here's the main thing: I will add some emotional bursts throughout the story, excuse the language, to make it seem like a Disney movie. Apologies for using the D word. Anyhow, the reason is due to the new social workings in the company. If I remember correctly, if there's a black person, then they are treated like the messiah. It's a bit stupid.
In other news, I got a notepad! Funny how I went this long without one.
Anyway, here's your homework if you feel free. Try sharing some fanfiction that a middle schooler would create in the 2010s.
In other news, I got a notepad! Funny how I went this long without one.
Anyway, here's your homework if you feel free. Try sharing some fanfiction that a middle schooler would create in the 2010s.
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2016
Homework: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED; I'm still (unfortunately) active on deviantart but I know one subpar "Creepypasta" attempt that was like 5 sentences maximum.
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
On the mention, I forgot to include why.
It's the same reason why this was in Twin Peaks:
Last edited:
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
Just finished a huge beat for the story. I'm starting to realize what Spongebob said about his process was true.
Here's my process:
I start writing short sentences, i.e Abby went up the hill and then I add all the necessary details. i.e Abby trotted up the hill dancing and singing songs of songs she made up.
Here's my process:
I start writing short sentences, i.e Abby went up the hill and then I add all the necessary details. i.e Abby trotted up the hill dancing and singing songs of songs she made up.
Amara's sobs echoed through the room as her door slammed shut with the echo of the sound reverberating in her small room. She flung herself onto her bed, her screams muffled by the pillow as tears streamed down her face. Her body convulsed with each wail, her hands clutching at the sheets as if they could offer some solace. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with the weight of her despair. She kick so much that her shoes were sent crashing into the pile of discarded clothes. The only thing going through her mind was why? Why on earth was she not accepted? The question echoed through Amara's mind like a taunt.
"After careful consideration..."
"We wish it were possible to admit more applicants..."
"We appreciate your interest in Harvard..."
"Appreciate."
Appreciate.
Appreciate, how?
If they liked her so much then why on earth was she not accepted? She rose from her bed, yelled, and started to rifle through her cluttered room, tossing aside clothes and flipping through her many books as she searched desperately for an answer with frenzied desperation. What had caused her to lose her acceptance?
Had she missed a deadline?
Little Women. Story of four sisters.
Won't help.
Did she somehow forget to send in an important document? Maybe, she got sent something? There has to be!
Pride and Prejudice, a relationship story.
Won't help.
Maybe... maybe... urgh!
Winnie-the-Pooh. She opened the book, not even bothering to read the title. As she swiped through the pages an old bookmark slipped out and fluttered to the ground. Amara picked it up and realized that it wasn't your normal bookmark, it was a ribbon congratulating her for perfect attendance at her old elementary school. It was barely readable as the letters all nearly faded away leaving only the outlines of the once golden letters. As she started to put it back, she noticed the crayon-filled drawings of her and Pooh as well as many underlined passages. She looked back somberly, she knew that there was more than just this silly ribbon. With a heavy-hearted sigh, she made her way to her closet and started to rummage through clothes too small for her and old boxes until she finally found what she was looking for: a box that said "Old Elementary Stuff." Amara set the box on the floor and opened it up and was greeted with many cheap trophies all congratulating her for perfect grades. She smiled. Memories of long-lost friendships, games of battle, and unforgettable teachers started to ring through her mind. She began to undo the mess that was the bed as nostalgia flooded through her mind. She carefully read through each test, assignment, essay, student introduction, and almost anything she could get her hands on.
"What's your greatest fear?"
"Snakes."
She chuckled. She finds snakes okay now.
"What is your greatest dream?"
"Learn EVERYTHING!!"
Her eyes started to water and her hands started to cup in her mouth hoping that her parents wouldn't hear yet another somber melody as she read the teacher's note.
"Well Amara, maybe you should go to an ivy league school!"
Amara's hands trembled as she began to slowly place everything back with a mixture of exhaustion and anger. She was deliberate with every little object but she was still weak and clumsy. Each passing report card, each trophy, felt like a reminder of her failure. She finally closed the box, the flaps of the box may as well be the final nails of her coffin as she buried deep beneath her closet she wept a single tear. The injustice of it all weighed heavily on her, threatening to crush her. Her attempts to push such feelings failed. It simmered inside her like a cancerous tumor spawned from hell. Why did she deserve this? What had she done to be denied the future she had worked so hard for?
Her gaze shifted to the photo of Ruth Bader Ginsburg on her dresser, a woman she had once admired for her sense of justice and determination. She placed the photo in her closet, unable to bear the sight of it any longer. It may as well come alive and start mocking her at her defeat. As she closed the closet door, she shifted to her bedroom window to see the outside. Her eyes unfocused and filled with a simmering rage the only thing she can focus on is a car passing by. It may as well be some low-class druggy she thought, they don't know what an opportunity is when they first see it. She closed her eyes before she could see yet another damn sight of human life and sank deeper into her thoughts of failing to be accepted.
"Appreciate..."
She took a deep breath as her mind started to replay the deceiving rejection letter.
Amara:
As God is my witness, as God is my witness, I shall go through this. I'm going to be the most successful person in all of Blair High, and when I do, no one else will! No matter if I have to lie, cheat, or kill. As God is my witness, I'm going to be the most successful person in the world!
"After careful consideration..."
"We wish it were possible to admit more applicants..."
"We appreciate your interest in Harvard..."
"Appreciate."
Appreciate.
Appreciate, how?
If they liked her so much then why on earth was she not accepted? She rose from her bed, yelled, and started to rifle through her cluttered room, tossing aside clothes and flipping through her many books as she searched desperately for an answer with frenzied desperation. What had caused her to lose her acceptance?
Had she missed a deadline?
Little Women. Story of four sisters.
Won't help.
Did she somehow forget to send in an important document? Maybe, she got sent something? There has to be!
Pride and Prejudice, a relationship story.
Won't help.
Maybe... maybe... urgh!
Winnie-the-Pooh. She opened the book, not even bothering to read the title. As she swiped through the pages an old bookmark slipped out and fluttered to the ground. Amara picked it up and realized that it wasn't your normal bookmark, it was a ribbon congratulating her for perfect attendance at her old elementary school. It was barely readable as the letters all nearly faded away leaving only the outlines of the once golden letters. As she started to put it back, she noticed the crayon-filled drawings of her and Pooh as well as many underlined passages. She looked back somberly, she knew that there was more than just this silly ribbon. With a heavy-hearted sigh, she made her way to her closet and started to rummage through clothes too small for her and old boxes until she finally found what she was looking for: a box that said "Old Elementary Stuff." Amara set the box on the floor and opened it up and was greeted with many cheap trophies all congratulating her for perfect grades. She smiled. Memories of long-lost friendships, games of battle, and unforgettable teachers started to ring through her mind. She began to undo the mess that was the bed as nostalgia flooded through her mind. She carefully read through each test, assignment, essay, student introduction, and almost anything she could get her hands on.
"What's your greatest fear?"
"Snakes."
She chuckled. She finds snakes okay now.
"What is your greatest dream?"
"Learn EVERYTHING!!"
Her eyes started to water and her hands started to cup in her mouth hoping that her parents wouldn't hear yet another somber melody as she read the teacher's note.
"Well Amara, maybe you should go to an ivy league school!"
Amara's hands trembled as she began to slowly place everything back with a mixture of exhaustion and anger. She was deliberate with every little object but she was still weak and clumsy. Each passing report card, each trophy, felt like a reminder of her failure. She finally closed the box, the flaps of the box may as well be the final nails of her coffin as she buried deep beneath her closet she wept a single tear. The injustice of it all weighed heavily on her, threatening to crush her. Her attempts to push such feelings failed. It simmered inside her like a cancerous tumor spawned from hell. Why did she deserve this? What had she done to be denied the future she had worked so hard for?
Her gaze shifted to the photo of Ruth Bader Ginsburg on her dresser, a woman she had once admired for her sense of justice and determination. She placed the photo in her closet, unable to bear the sight of it any longer. It may as well come alive and start mocking her at her defeat. As she closed the closet door, she shifted to her bedroom window to see the outside. Her eyes unfocused and filled with a simmering rage the only thing she can focus on is a car passing by. It may as well be some low-class druggy she thought, they don't know what an opportunity is when they first see it. She closed her eyes before she could see yet another damn sight of human life and sank deeper into her thoughts of failing to be accepted.
"Appreciate..."
She took a deep breath as her mind started to replay the deceiving rejection letter.
Amara:
As God is my witness, as God is my witness, I shall go through this. I'm going to be the most successful person in all of Blair High, and when I do, no one else will! No matter if I have to lie, cheat, or kill. As God is my witness, I'm going to be the most successful person in the world!
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
I'm only halfway done with this part here. Fun fact, it was so good that I had trouble posting it.
But as he closed his eyes, he started to hear a strange noise. The only conclusion he could think of was that it was somehow Brian though he wasn't entirely sure. He opened them back up and found himself on the wooden floor. As he struggled to rise, his palms scraped against a rough wooden floor, sending a jolt of pain up his arms, that's a trip to the bathroom right there.
The once-familiar surroundings of his house were now warped and grotesque, like a funhouse mirror come to life. Briar looked around the room, his heart racing as he realized that something was very wrong. The beds and the belongings that were once occupied by Belle and Brian were gone, leaving the room eerily empty. He could feel a chill creeping up his spine as he looked around, trying to find any sign of life. But there was none.
"Hello?" ... "HELLO?" His ears began to pin back as he realized that he was completely alone. The room felt different, wrong somehow, and Briar couldn't shake the feeling that he was in grave danger. His stomach churned with fear, and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his siblings. Were they okay? Were they even alive? The questions swirled in his mind as he started to pace around the once-vibrant room, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. Something terrible had happened, and he was all alone in the midst of it.
As the minutes ticked by, the darkness crept closer, enveloping everything in its inky embrace. He couldn't even see his own feet. He needed light more than ever now. So Briar stumbled his way to the row of the lightswitches but as he approached them, he could faintly see the walls, they seemed to pulse and throb, and the floorboards creaked and groaned beneath his feet. But as he finally flick the light switch on, it did nothing but make things worse. The flickering lights barely illuminated the darkness that seemed to be swallowing everything in its path and the bare amount of light only cast strange, shifting shadows along the walls. He had enough. He wanted out.
Briar started to reach for the doorknob, but before his fingers could touch the cool metal... "AHH!!" He felt a sudden sharp pain in his hand as he recoiled in surprise. Confused, he tried again, but the pain only intensified. Inspecting the, albeit faint doorknob it looked perfectly fine. Puzzled, he turned his attention to his hands. They had a bit of a heft to them. But yet Briar could make out vague, indistinct shapes so he started to brush the back of his hand against his palm. It ended quickly as it quickly hit something along with a pricking sensation. He had to find another way out. Desperately, he tried using the backs of his hands, wincing as if something was still creating that deep pain in his skin. But suddenly, his hand slipped off the knob and hit his leg, it felt like a searing hot poker had been pressed against his skin. The pain shot through his entire body like a lightning bolt, causing him to gasp for air. Every nerve in his hand was on fire, and he could feel his heart racing as he tried to regain his composure. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he struggled to contain the pain. It was a sharp, intense pain that refused to subside, and Briar feared it would never go away. But he didn't give up. Briar took a deep breath, gritted his fangs, and tried again, his determination overriding the agony. And with a twist and a turn he managed to twist it open and escape, stumbling out into the hallway, gasping for breath.
Briar stumbled through the dimly lit halls, his heart pounding with fear, as he tried to find a way out of this nightmare. He used the back of his hand once more to guide the way to the bathroom, feeling each smooth wooden surface like a lifeline. The sensation was almost comforting, a small reprieve from the pain in his hand. Finally, he made it to the bathroom door and attempted to open it with the lever using his foot. It took a few tries, but he managed to push it open with a loud creak. Briar took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he entered the dark room, praying that he wouldn't trip or fall. Out of pure instinct, he closed the door with his foot and flicked the light switch on using his elbow. He wished he never did. Briar let out a sharp gasp as he glanced down at his hands as he saw himself in the mirror like a drunk Vitruvian Man. His mind can only try to comprehend what he was seeing.
His hands! Oh God, his hands! They were covered in a grotesque collage of splinters! He couldn't help but wince as he studied the wooden shards embedded in his flesh. They ranged in size from small slivers to large, jagged fragments. Some were barely visible, while others were massive shards that extended through the other side of his hand. Briar could feel the warm trickle of blood as it seeped from his wounds, staining the soft shower rug beneath his feet. He tried to move them around, but the pain made him wince in dear agony. Some of the splinters were so deeply embedded that he couldn't even grasp them with his other hand. Others were located in such awkward positions that he couldn't help but fear the worst. Briar struggled to keep his composure, but the pain was too much. He let out a mixed yelp that was a concoction between strangled and light and fell to his knees. "Please... someone..."
Briar's throat felt tight as he yelped over and over again. The pain caused him to clutch at his chest, not even caring about the aching pain in his hands. It was as if his body was betraying him, trapping him in this place of agony and fear. He was now utterly alone and his heart started to race with the thought of being trapped here forever. The thought alone made him start to cry. "M-mommy..." He didn't know what else to do, he started to consider getting one of the wooden stakes out and stabbing himself to death. He sat alone for began to rise and began to pluck one of the splinters out, the searing pain from his hand didn't matter anymore. He wanted out of this place. But as soon as raised the piece of wood, out of pure instinct, his brain started to race all over for memories of his loved ones. He thought of Brian, the mischief they got into together, and the laughter they shared. He thought of Belle, her gentle touch and warm embraces. His father, was always a pillar of strength. He briefly laughed at the time he hurt his leg when he went on the Slip-N-Slide. His mother, whose love and kindness knew no bounds, and her newfound strength after dad died. The pain connected him to them, and for a moment, he could feel their presence beside him. But as quickly as the warmth came, it vanished, leaving him shivering and alone once again. The bathroom gave an echo as he dropped the stake as slumped back onto the floor. Then he thought of Betty. Her face, her eyes, her way of holding a fishing rod. He couldn't get her out of his head and Briar doesn't even know why but he likes it. -Insert dialogue of Betty here, it echoes throughout.-
But as he closed his eyes, he started to hear a strange noise. The only conclusion he could think of was that it was somehow Brian though he wasn't entirely sure. He opened them back up and found himself on the wooden floor. As he struggled to rise, his palms scraped against a rough wooden floor, sending a jolt of pain up his arms, that's a trip to the bathroom right there.
The once-familiar surroundings of his house were now warped and grotesque, like a funhouse mirror come to life. Briar looked around the room, his heart racing as he realized that something was very wrong. The beds and the belongings that were once occupied by Belle and Brian were gone, leaving the room eerily empty. He could feel a chill creeping up his spine as he looked around, trying to find any sign of life. But there was none.
"Hello?" ... "HELLO?" His ears began to pin back as he realized that he was completely alone. The room felt different, wrong somehow, and Briar couldn't shake the feeling that he was in grave danger. His stomach churned with fear, and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his siblings. Were they okay? Were they even alive? The questions swirled in his mind as he started to pace around the once-vibrant room, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. Something terrible had happened, and he was all alone in the midst of it.
As the minutes ticked by, the darkness crept closer, enveloping everything in its inky embrace. He couldn't even see his own feet. He needed light more than ever now. So Briar stumbled his way to the row of the lightswitches but as he approached them, he could faintly see the walls, they seemed to pulse and throb, and the floorboards creaked and groaned beneath his feet. But as he finally flick the light switch on, it did nothing but make things worse. The flickering lights barely illuminated the darkness that seemed to be swallowing everything in its path and the bare amount of light only cast strange, shifting shadows along the walls. He had enough. He wanted out.
Briar started to reach for the doorknob, but before his fingers could touch the cool metal... "AHH!!" He felt a sudden sharp pain in his hand as he recoiled in surprise. Confused, he tried again, but the pain only intensified. Inspecting the, albeit faint doorknob it looked perfectly fine. Puzzled, he turned his attention to his hands. They had a bit of a heft to them. But yet Briar could make out vague, indistinct shapes so he started to brush the back of his hand against his palm. It ended quickly as it quickly hit something along with a pricking sensation. He had to find another way out. Desperately, he tried using the backs of his hands, wincing as if something was still creating that deep pain in his skin. But suddenly, his hand slipped off the knob and hit his leg, it felt like a searing hot poker had been pressed against his skin. The pain shot through his entire body like a lightning bolt, causing him to gasp for air. Every nerve in his hand was on fire, and he could feel his heart racing as he tried to regain his composure. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he struggled to contain the pain. It was a sharp, intense pain that refused to subside, and Briar feared it would never go away. But he didn't give up. Briar took a deep breath, gritted his fangs, and tried again, his determination overriding the agony. And with a twist and a turn he managed to twist it open and escape, stumbling out into the hallway, gasping for breath.
Briar stumbled through the dimly lit halls, his heart pounding with fear, as he tried to find a way out of this nightmare. He used the back of his hand once more to guide the way to the bathroom, feeling each smooth wooden surface like a lifeline. The sensation was almost comforting, a small reprieve from the pain in his hand. Finally, he made it to the bathroom door and attempted to open it with the lever using his foot. It took a few tries, but he managed to push it open with a loud creak. Briar took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he entered the dark room, praying that he wouldn't trip or fall. Out of pure instinct, he closed the door with his foot and flicked the light switch on using his elbow. He wished he never did. Briar let out a sharp gasp as he glanced down at his hands as he saw himself in the mirror like a drunk Vitruvian Man. His mind can only try to comprehend what he was seeing.
His hands! Oh God, his hands! They were covered in a grotesque collage of splinters! He couldn't help but wince as he studied the wooden shards embedded in his flesh. They ranged in size from small slivers to large, jagged fragments. Some were barely visible, while others were massive shards that extended through the other side of his hand. Briar could feel the warm trickle of blood as it seeped from his wounds, staining the soft shower rug beneath his feet. He tried to move them around, but the pain made him wince in dear agony. Some of the splinters were so deeply embedded that he couldn't even grasp them with his other hand. Others were located in such awkward positions that he couldn't help but fear the worst. Briar struggled to keep his composure, but the pain was too much. He let out a mixed yelp that was a concoction between strangled and light and fell to his knees. "Please... someone..."
Briar's throat felt tight as he yelped over and over again. The pain caused him to clutch at his chest, not even caring about the aching pain in his hands. It was as if his body was betraying him, trapping him in this place of agony and fear. He was now utterly alone and his heart started to race with the thought of being trapped here forever. The thought alone made him start to cry. "M-mommy..." He didn't know what else to do, he started to consider getting one of the wooden stakes out and stabbing himself to death. He sat alone for began to rise and began to pluck one of the splinters out, the searing pain from his hand didn't matter anymore. He wanted out of this place. But as soon as raised the piece of wood, out of pure instinct, his brain started to race all over for memories of his loved ones. He thought of Brian, the mischief they got into together, and the laughter they shared. He thought of Belle, her gentle touch and warm embraces. His father, was always a pillar of strength. He briefly laughed at the time he hurt his leg when he went on the Slip-N-Slide. His mother, whose love and kindness knew no bounds, and her newfound strength after dad died. The pain connected him to them, and for a moment, he could feel their presence beside him. But as quickly as the warmth came, it vanished, leaving him shivering and alone once again. The bathroom gave an echo as he dropped the stake as slumped back onto the floor. Then he thought of Betty. Her face, her eyes, her way of holding a fishing rod. He couldn't get her out of his head and Briar doesn't even know why but he likes it. -Insert dialogue of Betty here, it echoes throughout.-
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
I just got a book explaining how to be a good writer. Also, I might make a questionnaire just to be sure that I'm on the right track here.
Briar goes out with Betty for coffee.
Briar:
"I'm not a fan of the logo."
Betty:
"Why?"
Briar:
"I don't know it just seems weird, like it's tearing itself apart."
I began to chortle at his remark.
Betty:
"It's supposed to be a mermaid?"
Briar:
"Well where on earth do you find a mermaid with two tails, in my dreams?"
My chuckles turns into a foray of laughter.
Briar:
"What are you a mermaid expert?"
Betty:
"M-maybe..."
Briar's smile started to rise, add something to imply slyness here.
Briar:
"Are you secretly one yourself?"
Betty:
"Maybe..."
Briar finally succumbs to my laughter, his cackles rose in pitch and intensity the longer he continued.
Briar:
"Should I report you to the news?"
Betty:
"AH no don't!"
OO
Betty:
"What are you getting?"
Briar:
"Hazelnut Iced Coffee, extra cream."
OO
Briar:
"Since we've been hanging around for a bit for a few days or so. I think it's about time we have ourselves a Q&A.
He talked in a way that made it seem like it was a bit forced. (show don't tell here.)
Betty:
"Were you asked by someone or something?"
Briar:
"Well... yes. You got me. Belle wanted me to do this, so we might as well."
Briar:
"You go first."
Choice between a few options appear:
"What was the stupidest thing you have ever done?"
Briar:
"Oh boy... The stupidest thing I've ever done is probably back in elementary school. So back then, my church sometimes makes a family to help create the unleavened bread."
I look back at him with confusion, but he quickly catches on (is there any way for this to be rewritten?)
Briar:
"It's the body of Christ. Anyway, uh... I don't know why they couldn't just make it themselves, it isn't a huge megachurch or anything like that but if I were to guess they probably let people make them solely to have some family time. So my parents were assigned to do that and my brother and sister were right outside probably sticking sticks up their noses while I was in my room doing homework. I got done, walk out from my room, and I'm hit with the beautiful, fresh cooking smell! Like ooh, baby! So I head my way down, my parents I dunno what they were doing, and I see the first batch of bread. Now tell me, what's the first thing you do when you see something like that?"
Betty:"
"Eat them?"
Briar:
"Close, but no. I thought that they would be the perfect chips for a bowl of nachos."
I began to laugh like an idiot. (is there any way for this to be rewritten?)
Briar:
"So I put them in a bowl, sprinkle some cheese, put them in the microwave for 1 minute, and then it just started sparking. I just thought it was part of Nacho making process and then my parents came. They started to ask me 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?' I said in like the most feeble voice, 'uhh Nachos?' My mom goes to open the microwave door and there is just so much steam."
Betty:
"HAHAHA!"
Briar:
"It gets funnier, my sister was playing around in the backyard and accidentally managed to catch the moment they walked in on me."
Briar starts to cackle as he got out his phone.
Briar:
"Here's the picture!"
Briar:
"I'm not a fan of the logo."
Betty:
"Why?"
Briar:
"I don't know it just seems weird, like it's tearing itself apart."
I began to chortle at his remark.
Betty:
"It's supposed to be a mermaid?"
Briar:
"Well where on earth do you find a mermaid with two tails, in my dreams?"
My chuckles turns into a foray of laughter.
Briar:
"What are you a mermaid expert?"
Betty:
"M-maybe..."
Briar's smile started to rise, add something to imply slyness here.
Briar:
"Are you secretly one yourself?"
Betty:
"Maybe..."
Briar finally succumbs to my laughter, his cackles rose in pitch and intensity the longer he continued.
Briar:
"Should I report you to the news?"
Betty:
"AH no don't!"
OO
Betty:
"What are you getting?"
Briar:
"Hazelnut Iced Coffee, extra cream."
OO
Briar:
"Since we've been hanging around for a bit for a few days or so. I think it's about time we have ourselves a Q&A.
He talked in a way that made it seem like it was a bit forced. (show don't tell here.)
Betty:
"Were you asked by someone or something?"
Briar:
"Well... yes. You got me. Belle wanted me to do this, so we might as well."
Briar:
"You go first."
Choice between a few options appear:
"What was the stupidest thing you have ever done?"
Briar:
"Oh boy... The stupidest thing I've ever done is probably back in elementary school. So back then, my church sometimes makes a family to help create the unleavened bread."
I look back at him with confusion, but he quickly catches on (is there any way for this to be rewritten?)
Briar:
"It's the body of Christ. Anyway, uh... I don't know why they couldn't just make it themselves, it isn't a huge megachurch or anything like that but if I were to guess they probably let people make them solely to have some family time. So my parents were assigned to do that and my brother and sister were right outside probably sticking sticks up their noses while I was in my room doing homework. I got done, walk out from my room, and I'm hit with the beautiful, fresh cooking smell! Like ooh, baby! So I head my way down, my parents I dunno what they were doing, and I see the first batch of bread. Now tell me, what's the first thing you do when you see something like that?"
Betty:"
"Eat them?"
Briar:
"Close, but no. I thought that they would be the perfect chips for a bowl of nachos."
I began to laugh like an idiot. (is there any way for this to be rewritten?)
Briar:
"So I put them in a bowl, sprinkle some cheese, put them in the microwave for 1 minute, and then it just started sparking. I just thought it was part of Nacho making process and then my parents came. They started to ask me 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?' I said in like the most feeble voice, 'uhh Nachos?' My mom goes to open the microwave door and there is just so much steam."
Betty:
"HAHAHA!"
Briar:
"It gets funnier, my sister was playing around in the backyard and accidentally managed to catch the moment they walked in on me."
Briar starts to cackle as he got out his phone.
Briar:
"Here's the picture!"
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2016
"Foray of laughter"
Interesting choice of words. I'm falling in love with the writing and the characters.
Interesting choice of words. I'm falling in love with the writing and the characters.
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
Speaking of characters, one is giving me a huge headache to write.
I'll write a more thorough dive tomorrow.
Edit: Something came up, hopefully tomorrow morning
Last edited:
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
Happy late-first day of Spring, here's a small update.
I've been cranking up mostly 500 words per week on this and while not bad, it's also not good either. So as a spring goal, I decided that it would be reasonable for me to up my word count a little from 500 to 1,000. Maybe I'll even go with 2,000 words per day. Though we'll see.
Also, another thing, /v/3 is coming in June and I've been wanting to cook about a teaser for it so stayed tuned for that.
That's all for now, I'll make a survey for the first dream sequence once I'm done writing it, my goal is to make it horrifyingly unreadable. Hopefully soon. Anyway, be safe and remember the safety of flying toasters.
I've been cranking up mostly 500 words per week on this and while not bad, it's also not good either. So as a spring goal, I decided that it would be reasonable for me to up my word count a little from 500 to 1,000. Maybe I'll even go with 2,000 words per day. Though we'll see.
Also, another thing, /v/3 is coming in June and I've been wanting to cook about a teaser for it so stayed tuned for that.
That's all for now, I'll make a survey for the first dream sequence once I'm done writing it, my goal is to make it horrifyingly unreadable. Hopefully soon. Anyway, be safe and remember the safety of flying toasters.
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
Just hit my first writer's block, I think it's a sign for me to better outline this whole thing instead of going through things blind so be prepared to see more of X happened then Y therefore Z stuff.
Also, also, also, if you're not into playing video games like one of my friends are then I have some good news for you. Once I'm done writing the visual novel, I'm going to look for ways that this can be made into a book, hopefully published by one of the big five publishers. Though whoever editor this thing gets assigned to will have final say on what final changes will be made for the visual novel version of this.
I'm going to look for ways that this could get nominated for the VGAs. Why? For the lulz. I don't know whether or not this thing will ever get a shot at being nominated much less win a VGA.
Also, also, also, if you're not into playing video games like one of my friends are then I have some good news for you. Once I'm done writing the visual novel, I'm going to look for ways that this can be made into a book, hopefully published by one of the big five publishers. Though whoever editor this thing gets assigned to will have final say on what final changes will be made for the visual novel version of this.
I'm going to look for ways that this could get nominated for the VGAs. Why? For the lulz. I don't know whether or not this thing will ever get a shot at being nominated much less win a VGA.
- Joined
- Dec 20, 2021
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
So here's the format I'm going with regarding outlining the thing
The first column won't have anything written, just as a heads-up.
| The Plot | What happens | The Consequence |
| The Internal Change | Why it matters | The Realization |
The first column won't have anything written, just as a heads-up.
Absolutely! Sneeding will be throughout this story, it would be idiotic not to include it in the first place. Just look at Lord of The Rings, with its Sneeding throughout. Remember Tom Bombadil? I REMEMBER TOM BOMBADIL!
- Joined
- Sep 29, 2022
Waffle House is a chain, not a generic term, nor have I heard it used as a generic term. Also it's a bad reference anyway unless you want your VN explicitly set in the Southeastern United States.
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2017
I started to change my sleep schedule to better accommodate this. I wake up at 4 AM, use the hour to do whatever I want, then start at 5 AM and try to hit my 2,000 word minimum. Any dreams that I remember gets written. Before anyone asks, I start to sleep like around 8 PM.
Good to know, I’ve been thinking to rewrite the whole scene to skip right to the action anyway.