L
Laggy Lagiacrus
Guest
Original poster
So I've been playing Bastion recently. Brilliant game. What I really fell in love with, though, is the narrative running throughout. So I thought, "I wonder what a story written like this would be like?"
Here's what happened. I can't say I'm able to truly capture the essence of the game - but I gave it a crack anyway.
~
Most stories start at the beginning. It's a well-known cliché, but one of the most widely-accepted ones. Some stories start with something dramatic. Some introduce a character and how they act. Others start with a prologue. This one starts with a kid wandering along a beach. It isn't a special beach, by any means. It's got golden sand, warm waters, and an adjoining jungle, brimming with wildlife. But the kid doesn't stop to admire this. He just keeps on walking. He doesn't bother to see his reflection in the water. He pays no attention to his average height, slightly tanned skin, pitch black hair like a dishevelled mop, nor to the cobalt eyes that seem so… Empty. His white t-shirt was once pristine. Wasn't so pristine when it came out the sea, sodden and dirty. Same goes for his jeans. They were baggy, something to give him comfort. Now, he just had them torn off at the knee. He'd woken up with them hanging by a thread anyway. Time would've done it for him. He inhales the salty breeze whipping around; he just doesn't care to appreciate it.
All the kid remembers is waking up on one end of the beach. What else was there to do but walk; was his reasoning. So he got up and walked. He didn't know what he hoped to find. He didn't really know what to expect. In the end, he just hoped to find something useful. Some wood, a sharp rock, something to hunt with. Maybe some fruit, or clean water. There's plenty of fruit long the edge of the jungle – it looks good, but it didn't seem to agree with the animals munching on them. Well, I say animals, but they're corpses now. Kid decides to stay away from the fruit – a wise decision on his part. He finds a pointed stone sticking out of the sand and a stray branch somewhere else. He pockets the stone, but not before sharpening the end of the branch – kid's got to defend himself somehow. He doesn't quite know what from, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He doesn't recognise the environment, and has only a basic recollection of what things are, and what he should do in certain situations. Like when something tries to eat you, you either kill it, or escape. Sometimes, either one can result in death. Kid doesn't really care; he just needs to find shelter, preferably near drinkable water. He's feeling a touch thirsty, and those fruits are still looking tasty. And juicy. And those animals are looking dead. And poisoned. Kid keeps walking, collects some seaweed. He knows there are types of edible seaweed, he just doesn't remember which ones. They'll do in a pinch.
Kid rests under a palm tree, tossing a coconut up and down. He knows there's something to drink in there, it's just a matter of cracking the thing open. He knows there's something edible in there as well. Same problem. He has shade, for the time being, but he feels exposed. There are no walls, nothing to alert him to anything. He's open from all angles. Out of a deep-rooted habit, the origin of which he doesn't care to remember, he looks up in the tree. Nothing but leaves and coconuts. At least he has something to bludgeon with, if nothing else. He doesn't expect there to be anyone else on the island. He doesn't expect there to be anything of much worth on the beach either, apart from more seaweed. He still hasn't eaten the bits he's collected. He doesn't plan to, until he's sure it's edible, or he's sure he's too hungry to go on without it. He remembers someone taught him something about seaweed and the weather. He doesn't bother remembering, it's too much hassle when other problems are up. He continues walking, but this time into the jungle. Kid doesn't really know what he's looking for. He'll know it when he sees it, though.