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FPSMaker Man
13
Years of Service
User Offline
Joined: 18th Dec 2005
Location: The Bowels of Non-Reality
Posted: 16th Jan 2006 01:01
Okay, I'm making a pretty simple little game to kind of help me get an idea about the entire process before I launch full-scale into "Project Relativity". Screenshots will come very soon, but I just wanted to post the beginning of the storyline first.

________
Your name is Roger Evans. You are an accountant for a New York electronics manufacturer. Every day, you wake up at 7:30 am, shower, dress, grab a bite to eat, and drive to the large Manhattan skyscraper in your silver Toyota. You sit at a medium-sized desk, and bust numbers until 12:00, when you have an hour for lunch, during which you usually play ping-pong with the office guys, and then it’s back to work until 5:00 pm. You drive home, pick up the kids from school, and eat dinner with your family. You and your wife enjoy cheese and crackers alone, and both dream of a vacation in Paris. At 10:45 pm, you get in bed, and switch off the light.

* * * * * *

You open your eyes to a barrage of unfamiliar sensations. The sky is still dark overhead, and a plume of smoke rises far off, passing in front of the glowing moon. But where is the roof? And why is it still night? You blink several times, and move to check your alarm clock. A searing pain careens up your back, leaving you wincing, again face-up on hard-packed dirt. A strange taste is in your mouth. Blood. You spit the stuff out, only to have it refill in your mouth. Something, you now realize, is terribly wrong. Despite the pain, you shove yourself to your knees. A pool of blood ripples where you just lay. You pass your hand across you back gently, and it comes back red. You glance about again. You are kneeling at the end of a darkened alleyway, the cement walls pocked with the marks of war. A fire barrel glows some yards away, fueled by a pile of planks beside it. You crawl to it, the pain again flooding your senses. The warmth greets you, and you suddenly realize how cold it is outdoors. You rub your arms instinctively, and then stare at them a moment. They are muscular, almost torn from a movie star, or ripped from the physique of an athlete. You are wearing a light grey sweater, and olive green pants. Suddenly, the sound of voices from up the alleyway draws your attention. You peer down the darkness, and spot two silhouettes, staring into the sky.
“Anything?”
“Nope. If he’s alive, he’s long gone by now. And if he’s dead, there’s no point in checking.”
“Carver, you’ve got an attitude. No wonder the boss doesn’t like you.”
“Oh yeah? Well I’ve seen more action than anyone else on the team, so you’ll have to get used to it.”
“Whatever, Carver. I’m gonna have a look around up the road. Good luck with the attitude.”
“Fine, I’ll stay here. Just don’t get too trigger-happy. The Israelis would scream bloody murder.”
“Keep talkin’ Carver.”
Now you are genuinely perplexed. Then the click of a gun being cocked sounds from Carver’s direction. You hear yourself gulp. You glance back. Nothing but a dead end there. The pain in your back isn’t quite so bad now. You survey the situation. A wooden gangway covers most of the alleyway, and a narrow space beneath it catches your attention. There seems to be enough room to crawl under it. A strange instinct overcomes you. The Roger Evans you a familiar with would come out with his hands up, but a serious foreboding sounds in your mental ear now, and you can’t help but heed it. You snatch a firm plank from beside the fire barrel, and crawl into the dark space beneath the gangway. Taking care to be quiet, you inch your way towards the light at the end of the alley, and at last arrive near the end of the gangway. Carver stands coolly some four feet before you, glancing up and down a distinctly Middle-Eastern street. What are you doing here? Instinct again pushes you, and in one fluid motion, you roll out of your hiding place, and send the corner of the plank at Carver’s head. He collapses lightly, and you quickly search his body. The only thing you can find is a small, semi-automatic pistol, and two clips for it.
Half frightened, half relieved, you palm the pistol, and slide a clip up the handle. You cock the weapon, and peer down the street. You know that the other man is down that street somewhere, and looking for someone. You are faintly aware that your strength, reflexes, and senses are greatly elevated since you drove home in from work last night.
Lampposts dot the streets, illuminating large enough an area to create a small, but thick ream of shadow just behind it.
You dash from shadow to shadow, along the street, and suddenly see the dim outline of the other searcher just ahead of you.
“Hey Carver, that you?”
You pause in the shadows, scarcely breathing.
“Hmm. Guess not.”
The man continues down the lane, back towards the alleyway. You are worried that you won’t escape before he find’s Carver’s body. You arrive at the end of the street, where a dimly-lit door greets you. On the wall beside it hangs a sign that reads: Ben Dekel Inn.
You open the door, and yellow light floods your vision for a moment. Faint Israeli music plays from a dated radio on the counter. The place is vacant.
“I’ll be right down!” Shouts the innkeeper from up a barely-noticeable stairway, and you hastily hide your pistol. A grinning Middle-Eastern man, hops down the stairway, landing behind the counter, and smiles at you.
“You are a bit late to make reservations, no?”
“Where am I?” You reply.
The man laughs. “Has the Holy Land lost all of its charm? You are in Israel my man!”
You nod coolly, despite your whirring mind. Hours ago you had been sleeping in New York, and now Israel?
“I need a room.”
“Hmm. You come late, my friend.”
Money. The man wanted money. You reach into your pockets to reveal how empty they are. Instead, you hand encounters a wad of cash. You withdrawal it, and examine the bills. Six hundreds. You suddenly find yourself reviewing finances, as if talking to a client in New York. Gas would cost extra in Palestine, and so would food. The math only took seconds.
“I can give you a hundred dollars.”
“Two.”
“One fifty, no more.”
The man hesitated. “Deal. Second room on the right”, he said as he hands you a key, and points upstairs. You head upstairs, and duck into the ratty room with one bed and plaster walls. You collapse onto the bed, and sleep suddenly overtakes you.

* * * * * *

You open your eyes to the welcome sight of a roof. Thank God it was all just a scary dream. You hop to your feet, and instantly despair hits. You are in the small, Palestinian room you rented for $150. The thud of feet sounds in the lobby, and you hear the small, Israeli proprietor speaking in frightened tones below.
“No, no! He said nothing! He paid one hundred fifty American dollars for a room upstairs… Yes! Yes, room number two!”
Without hesitation, you snatch up the pistol, and kick in the small window. You leap down, finding yourself in another small, cement-walled alley. The crack of splintering wood sounds overhead, alongside the chorus of automatic weapons firing. A few stray bullets slam into the alley wall overhead, as you dash towards the street. Your footsteps echo through the window, and through the din of the guns, you hear a voice shout, “Stop, you idiots! He’s on the street!”
Now it’s only a matter of time. Time, and wits.
________

Well, there you go, you'll have to play the game to solve the mystery.
But fear not, screenshots are on the way!

BTW, this is a bit of a survival game, so there will be a lot more brick-throwing and head-knocking than shooting. This game should be a tad bit more on the side of reaism than, say Halo.

I reject your reality and substitute it with a full-on, guns-blazin' video game reality of my own.
Paul112
13
Years of Service
User Offline
Joined: 1st Jan 2006
Location: UK
Posted: 19th Jan 2006 19:59
Very ambitious plan there, sound awesome. Have you made this far yet, or do you plan to make this. I dont want to dampen your spirits or anything, but some of this could prove hard, if not impossible with FPSC. If you already have - good for you.
Looking forward to screenies mate

Fujitsu-Siemens "Scaleo-P" with Windows XP OS, Pentium 4, 3.2GHz Processor, 512MB RAM, and a 128MB ATI RADEON X300 Graphics card.

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