January 10th, 2006

Me, Racing Stripes


I went to bed an hour and a half ago. (Make that 2 and a quarter by the time I finished the entry)

I am still awake because my brain refuses to shut down. It wouldn't be as bad if my brain was at least working on my game for Arc, but no, it's working on the game I have pencilled in for submitting to Pheno this year. The game is titled I'm Sorry, All I Can Provide Is Death, and is currently looking at being a 12 to 24 player freeform. It's driving me up the wall.

I've gotten some of the characters sorted, a number of plot hooks, a large percentage of the mechanics. I've even worked out some of the set pieces that I'm going to be reading for *deities* sake.

The blurb is written:

We had it all. We had utopia.
Unlimited energy and the technology to use it all meant that we never wanted anything.
Nobody worked unless they wanted to. All the menial stuff was done by the Automons, machines in human form.
No one lived in poverty because anyone could walk up to a Creation Station and ask for whatever they wanted. Money didn’t exist because no one had any need for it.
We had even defeated death and made it nothing more than an afternoon’s annoyance.
We had everything.

And then one day it stopped.

No one ever worked out why. We woke up one morning and nothing worked. The Creation Stations sat idle. The Medilabs wouldn’t even fix the slightest cut. The lights were dark. The air was silent. We couldn’t survive.

But we did.

It’s been six months. The Automons are still around, but they don’t help. All they do is watch and tell us:

“I’m sorry I can not help. All I can provide is death.”

Right, that's all the shit buzzing in my head written down in a word document for me to look at later. The skies have open up and dropped a rather large amount of rain in a rather short amount of time, so I'm hoping that these two events will allow me to sleep!

Either that or I'll be back in an hour.