Walküre: Playing with Medium

I’ve been working on Walküre in one form or another for about 3 years. For most of that time its been a Novel, a collection of letters and journal entries written from the perspective of 5 characters. The Novel itself is only at 25k words, and barely a quarter done, so I decided to play a little bit with the medium that I wrote it in.

My initial goal was to turn it into a Pilot. Historical Fiction with a bit of American Gods thrown in. I wanted to put together a live-action TV-hour. The problem is that I got to 30 pages and it was already done. In the middle of trying to figure out how to put more meat into it, I figured out that if I shifted a few things around it would be a pretty good Pilot to a Serial Animated series.

The problem is, there is no way I could ever sell an Adult American Anime about the early 1900s. So I’m going to post the pilot here and ask for any feedback you may have to give. Does it work? Doesn’t it? Why and why not?

Walkure, Animated Pilot

Mapping Interactive Narrative

A few months ago I started working on the Narrative Design for a game called Eons Lost, currently in development by 3 Halves Games. Though Narrative Design was not initially an area of writing I gave much consideration, it ended up taking over my brain, and I want to share with you my methodology in approaching it.

Interactive Narrative is a consistent pattern of Objective and Reward.

The following diagrams are the first element in the methodology I am using to design the narrative of Eons Lost. I started with the basics: How do you organize Interactive Narrative?

Read the rest of this entry »

Walküre Excerpt #4

1918, Fall, Belgium Front, Edie

The little one insisted on giving us nicknames, but I told him that if he insisted on calling me Nan one more time I’d punch his stomach right through his anus. Then the Priest came out with an eyebrow gushing like a mountain spring for getting in a bar fight with a gunner from the next outpost over. I told him a Chaplain shouldn’t fight, and he told me to go fuck myself. The big one spent this time saying nothing, looking out into the darkness with his Springfield’s scope for a German light to shoot. My husband would have loved these people, which is the only thing that kept me from hating them.

War is boring and tiring. Two months to this foxhole and Seven days in it so far. The big one has fired 23 shots so far and is unsure if any have hit. The little one cheers him on, “24 Germans!” to which the big one says, “Why 24? I’ve only fired 23 shots” and the little one says, “Yeah, but one of them got two.” “How do you know that?” “Math”.

They carry on like that while the priest drinks from a flask and I write.

I don’t know much about them yet and haven’t bothered to remember their names. I know when they look at me all they see is a small woman with a Machete on her back and a trench knife in her boot. None of them have made a move on me, but I suspect the priest will break first.