My current sci-fi WIP; I’ve been assembling (and expanding) a branching Cyberpunk story I developed for FredBear Games, “Eden“, into a standard novel format.
Had a lot of fun with this story, from envisioning virtual environments, to creating my namesake, stand out, Russian military antagonist computer program. Once this story starts moving, it doesn’t stop. I can’t wait to see this completed and released.
The below excerpts are pulled straight from the game script. Lots of repetitive first-person writing, written that way specifically for the branching nature of the game. (One of the things I’ll be cleaning up for novel.)
Warning: Mature language.
If you want to read more, drop a comment and let me know!
by Nick Macari
© 2018 Fred Bear Games.
Glaring neon above, pulsating LEDs below, no escaping the lights of the electric night. Thousands of people following the green arrows, shuffling around looking to waste what few credits they have to their name. Pleasure clubs, cards, or scoring the hottest fad upgrade. Most of them wouldn’t know how to use a revamped retro piece of junk. Losers. I hate downtown.
How do they stand this overwhelming stench of garbage and sewage with a slight tinge of burnt rat meat. Actually, the rat meat doesn’t smell half bad. If V doesn’t show, maybe I’ll just grab something to eat and head home. But damn, I need a bump. Went through the last of my shit three days ago. Can’t work without my shit.
“Fuck it, I’m outta here.”
“There’s my boy. I heard you gone done a most righteous hack on Beta Corp. The street talkin’. You be the Mr. Mention of Cyber City, Mon.”
“Your late V.”
“Says you. You not me only customer, see it?”
“At least I’m consistent. I need the usual.”
He smiles wide. His few remaining teeth, sticking out long and yellow. Makes me want to puke, but my stomach only grumbles. He digs around in a pocket and comes up with a closed fist. Where’s the vial?
“Don’t have the usual my fren’. Got si’ting better. Si’ting new.”
A large gloved hand with the fingers cut off turns up revealing a handful of tiny ass pills. Half red, half blue. What the fuck V?
He leans close, his breath reeks of ganja and rum.
“Got me a rude boy up at E’tin Genetics. These are the real deal mon. Blue gonna take you where you want to go, in a smooth ride. Red, put ya’there all at once. E’ter one gonna light up your cerebral like never before Mon. Truut.”
Eden Genetics… I don’t believe for a second a two bit seller like V has a contact at the largest bio-tech company on the planet. But either way, he’s the only game in town tonight.
Chapter 3–Escaping Robot Police
The sports car moves like nothing I’ve ever driven. It’s a beast.
I’m onto the sidewalks crashing through café tables and upending a dog wash station. The rear vid display shows a wicked trail of destruction, one I hope slows the metalheads.
I smile watching the mechanical men fade into the distance amid the chaos. A second later my smile turns upside down. “No way!” I’m forced to do a double take on the video screen.
The metalheads stop dead in their tracks, while their heads pop off and take to the air. Mag-lev drones! They shoot towards me like a couple of heat seeking missiles.
“Blue vehicle. ID 7-3325-04 pull over and disengage your engine.”
Not sure how fast those can go—I’m not about to stick around to find out.
I hit the gas harder.
Dodging in and out of traffic like a fiber optic beam refracting off a grid of reflective panels, I drop the hammer on every straight away.
Keeping control of the car is no easy task. It’s been more than a while since I drove one. Its engine roars like some untamed animal as I race down the road.
The oncoming traffic lane looks clear. Let’s see em do 200mph.