Monthly Archives: February 2016

Voice-Acting Script

Temporary pause on your regularly scheduled programming. Instead, here’s a script I wrote for my friend for them to use in a voice-acting audition. They created the characters and their basic personalities, and I came up with the scenario. Citizen Kane it ain’t, but it’s meant to showcase my buddy’s various character voices rather than my writing. Maybe if the audition goes well or they ever record the reading, I’ll post a link to it. In the meantime, enjoy!

MELVIN, S.O.N.N.Y., and DOCTOR GESUNDHEIT stand on a street

The setting – a bustling American
city. The time – modern day. The
people – one well-meaning but
insane scientist, his robotic
sidekick, and his young lab
assistant. The situation – well,
you’ll find out.

Gee, Doc, what are we doing out
here? I thought you said we were
doing important lab work today.

Ve vere! But zen I thought to
myself, “It is such a nice day, vhy
don’t ve do some field vork
instead?” So, ve are going to test
my superhero serum!

Oh, okay. Wait a minute, what?!

The doctor has prepared a serum to
turn ordinary individuals into
superpowered specimens of human

Gee, Doc. That sounds… uh,
interesting… but why?

Because ze evil Lord Drax has sworn
zat he ist going to come to zis
spot und kill us all!

What?! Oh, my God! Why?

Because the doctor got drunk one
night a week ago and used the
transdimensional communicator to
insult Lord Drax’s broodmother.


Ach, stupid robot! Look, it doesn’t
matter who insulted who’s
broodmother or who made disparaging
remarks about who’s carapace. Ze
important thing is zat ve stop ze
alien menace.

How are we going to do that?

Simple! Ze superhero serum vill
give you incredible powers and you
will use zem to crush ze alien and
see him driven before you!

Me? Well, I guess that’s cool, but
I don’t know that I’m the best
person for the job.

Nonsense, my boy! You’ll do
vunderfully! And besides, I already
put ze serum in your cereal zis
morning. It should be kicking in
any second now.

Melvin falls to the ground and starts making noises as if
he’s alternately in immense pain and pleasure. The sound of
a rift opening in space-time can be heard growing steadily

Doo doo, just going for a walk.
Lovely day for a walk. Lovely day
for an ominous portal in the sky
like a bleeding wound in the very
fabric of reality. Lovely — OH, MY


Oh, God, you’re standing on my


Why won’t you get off my chest?!

Ah, right on schedule! Alright,
boy! Get him!

Melvin continues making odd, unpleasant noises.

Hm. I may have made a

Doctor, I tried to tell you this
plan had less than a 10% chance of

Vell, vhy didn’t you try harder!

You threatened to erase my memory
and use my motherboard as a

Ah. I see. Vell, only vun zing to

The sound of Doctor Gesundheit’s shoes slapping against the
pavement can be heard, followed by a mechanical sigh and the
sound of S.O.N.N.Y. clanking as he follows.


Oh, my lumbago!



Assault on Anomgen Base, Pt. 3

The soldier guarding her cell was just a boy, she was sure of it. Genni Zonda could tell by his stance, standing at rapt attention like he wanted to do a good job but nervous and fidgety. He would cast glances at her back over his shoulder, as if he had to constantly reassure himself that yes, she was in fact still there. She was pretty sure she’d heard him gasp when that boom had echoed through the base, too.

Unprofessional all around. Damn Annexers, putting a kid in charge of a high-value prisoner. The People’s Army wasn’t perfect either, and there were certainly bases and outposts that were understaffed and operating in ways totally divorced from standard operating procedure, but no fighting force under her command would have left a rookie in charge of one of the most brilliant (and therefore dangerous) strategic and tactical minds in the solar system.

“Hey. Kid. What’s going on? What was that noise earlier?”

The guard jumped at the sound of Genni’s voice, but he quickly recovered and turned around, the crimson lenses of his tactical mask flashing in the light. “Quiet, prisoner!” he said, his voice artificially deepened and distorted by the mask.

Hm. Do I detect an edge? Genni thought. Alright. Let’s see what we can tease out of you.

“I’m just asking a question! Was it an explosion? It sounded like an explosion.”

“The prisoner is to remain silent,” the guard said, his voice a growl even through the mask. “Or corrective measures will have to be taken.”

Ah. So that’s what kind of man you are. “How dare you threaten me!” Genni stepped forward, just outside of arm’s reach of the bars separating her from her freedom. She pointed angrily, hoping the guard would be dumb enough to do the same. “Do you know who I am? Do you know what my soldiers are going to do to you when they come to rescue me?”

The guard stepped closer to the bars and slipped a gloved hand through them, “Listen, bitch, you…”

Genni leaped forward like a snake, her hands wrapping around the guard’s wrist, shoving him back, and pulling him forward to smash his face against the bars. He croaked in surprise and pain, but he didn’t drop, so she did it again. The guard collapsed with a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, and Genni dropped to the ground so she could rifle through his pockets and find the keyguard that would open the cell.

And that, she thought, is why you don’t use a rookie.

Assault on Anomgen Base, Pt. 2

Jingo Jamizon watched dispassionately as the strike team’s boarding pod left the Independence, streaked across open space, and slammed into the hull of Anomgen Base. Her Tiger’s early warning system beeped at him and she jerked the fighter out of the way of a psi-drone’s incoming fire. “Alright, boys and girls,” she barked into the ship-to-ship comms as she looped around and shot at the drone. “This is Phantom-Leader. The package has landed, and that means our mission just went from ‘be a pain in the ass’ to ‘do some serious damage.’ Hammerheads, you pick up a strong psionic or nuclear energy reading coming off the base, you bomb it. Makos, keep the Hammers safe. Tigers, focus on priority targets. Psi-drones over auto-drones.”

Jingo’s ship squealed a warning at her again, and once more she expertly dodged the incoming enemy fire. The space between the two vessels had already been humming with activity as the Independence’s fighters clashed with the automated ships produced by the Anomgen Base, but now the void was alive with plasma fire, guided missiles, and psionic energy. It was more than a human’s mind could ever hope to follow, and even with the fighters’ individual AI helping out their pilots, it was still chaos. But the damn Annexers had developed some kind of method for integrating their ships’ AI with psyker pilots, and the People’s Army couldn’t hope to match their brutal efficiency. Jingo might pilot her Tiger like it was an extension of her own body, but even she was outgunned by someone whose ship might as well have actually been their own body.

A psi-drone went down in a burst of flames, the auto-drones that it had been helping to control suddenly helpless and ineffective without it. Off in the distance, a Hammerhead unloaded a salvo of missiles into a production facility on Anomgen Base. It went up in flames and a cheer broke out on the comms, but there dozens more factories, and the base was spewing out drones like angry hornets coming from a nest…

Assault on Anomgen Base, Pt. 1

New story! This was supposed to go live this morning, but instead it got saved as a draft. Go figure.

Filip Vann felt nervous. He felt frightened. He felt excited. A thousand emotions played through his head, and he fidgeted restlessly in the impact webbing he’d been so firmly strapped into. Next to him, Trass’khar gnawed at his own webbing. Filip wasn’t very knowledgeable about serpentii and their biology and psychology, but he guessed that the six-foot-tall lizard man’s behavior had less to do with nerves and more to do with an instinctual distaste for human trappings. Trass’khar chose to forgo a uniform for that reason, even shunning all but the lightest and must mobile of armor plating.

On the other side of Trass’khar, Max Blaston had freed his arms somehow from the webbing and he was using his psi-blades to drum the air in time to the music he was listening to on his headphones, music loud enough that Filip could hear it faintly from where he was seated six feet away. A wave of jealousy cut through Filip at seeing how effortless Max made it all look. Max Blaston, hero of the People’s Army. Max Blaston, psyker first-class. Max Blaston, unflappable and unstoppable, deadly with pistols and rifles and in hand-to-hand combat.

And Max had insisted that Filip, a small-time thief and conman from a backwater hive world, was the only man he’d take on what was almost certainly going to be a suicide mission into the heart of Anomgen Base. Well, Filip and Trass’khar, but that was a given. The serpentii and the psyker never went on missions apart from each other if they could help it. The two of them had a bond that was equal parts psionic and shared history.

“Max, why me?” Filip asked. Those had been the first words out of his mouth when Max picked him for the squad back during the mission briefing, but Max had waved him away, said that planning the operation was the more important. Filip had left in irritation, retired to his quarters aboard the Independence, and stared at the ceiling of his bunk lost in thought as they’d traveled through slipspace. The Annexers had built a military base to produce automated war machines, Genni had surrendered to them in the hopes they would spare the People’s Army (which didn’t work, of course, the filthy Annexers,) and now he, Max, and Trass’khar were going to invade that base and demolish it while the People’s Army fleet served as a distraction.

And not even a month ago, Filip had been trying to steal a datapad from Max’s pocket back on Francis Novis. From hive rat to special forces soldier in less than a month. And yeah, the People’s Army didn’t have the resources to train special forces like the Federation or the Separatists did, but still. It really made you stop and think.

“Max. Max. Max!”

The older man stopped his air drumming and cocked his head up as if listening to something far away. Maybe his psychic senses were picking up on something. “Hey, do you hear that?” he asked. Trass’khar said nothing, continuing to gnaw impatiently at the webbing. Filip closed his eyes and focused, but he heard nothing. With a shake of his head, he said, “No, I don’t.”

Max turned his head to Filip and grinned. In another life, the man could have been a celebrity instead of a soldier. “Exactly.”

The words, “What do you mean?” had almost left Filip’s mouth when a dull thump and sudden acceleration meant their boarding shuttle had been fired from the Independence’s weapons bay. Filip let out a choked gasp as his body flattened against his seat. Trass’khar hissed in displeasure. Max just laughed and laughed and laughed.

Respawn, Pt. 10

Anausa pounced upon Brick right as the larger man’s hands were occupied throttling a mantid. His daggers rose and fell in an inhuman frenzy, his movements as wild and violent as the mantids’ own flailing. The points found their way between the plates of Brick’s armor. They slid through muscle and struck against bone. They slice through veins, tendons, arteries, and the noise of the crowd fell away, the shrieking of the mantids, the pain of his wounds. There was nothing but the look of surprise, then pain, then fear, and then nothing upon Brick’s face.

The last thing Anausa heard before the world went dark was a voice screaming, “This is the Butcher! This is the Butcher!” for the horrified crowd to hear. But if it was Brick or it was himself, he couldn’t say.

* * *

Anausa opened his eyes to find himself covered in a sterile white blanket, lying on a bed in the infirmary. He raised his head and looked around the room, looked at the matching beds that either had patients who had been regenerated like him or else were awaiting them. He sat up with a grunt, his hand moving to his chest, to his face, where he still felt the pain of the wounds Brick had inflicted on him. Was his heartbeat irregular? Had his body regenerated with the mantids’ poison somehow an essential part of it?

That was impossible, of course. Memories of a past life playing tricks on him. He heard footsteps approaching. A doctor that wanted to check on him, to go through the steps necessary to acclimate to a new body, but he waved the woman away. So long as he never set foot outside of the infirmary, it was like he really did have a new life, one where he wasn’t a killer. One where he wasn’t surrounded by other murderers every waking moment. One where he could leave this backwater planet, build a loving family, live peacefully. That was what he truly wanted, but he never got it.

They just gave him the old life over and over again.

The end! I feel like this one got kind of meander-y. But the year is still young, and I’m still settling back into the swing of things. Check in on Monday for something new!

Respawn, Pt. 9

The creatures surged forward and Brick yelped and stumbled backwards in a blind panic. It would have been comical if the insect-like beasts hadn’t also surged towards Anausa, indiscriminate in their hunger and their bloodlust. The duel was forgotten, combat a distant memory as both men scrambled to avoid the ravenous maws and snapping pincers of the insect-like beasts.

As the two men separated from each other, Anausa eyed Brick with a cool detachment. The mantids seemed to be favoring chasing after the larger man, doubtless because they were attracted by the scent of his wounds, and Brick seemed aware of this. Even as he batted the creatures away, fighting them off with his bare hands, he stared at Anausa with a growing anger. For a brief moment, Anausa felt relief, relief that the mantids were apt to settle the battle for him, but then there was a glint of light and a dull thump against his chest.

Anausa staggered backwards and looked down to see the hilt of his own dagger sticking out from his body. Faster than his eyes could follow, Brick had torn the remaining blade form his own back, and thrown it with unerring accuracy at Anausa. And the fact that he didn’t feel any pain, only a spreading numbness, meant that the thing must have gotten covered in one of the mantids’ poison.

If he pulled out the blade, he’d bleed out. If he left it in, the poison would surely find its way to his heart and kill him instead of knocking him out. Anausa stared down at the blade dumbly, for the first time in his life as a soldier and as a pit fighter utterly uncertain of what to do. He simply didn’t know what the appropriate response was. Conscious thoughts wouldn’t form inside his head.

Some deeper, more basic instinct took over. Before Anausa realized what he was doing, he was charging towards the spot where Brick fought against the mantids, both daggers in his hands, blood streaming from the open wound in his chest, a snarl upon his lips. Maybe he would die, but Brick would die, too.

Respawn, Pt. 8

When god speaks, the faithful obey. The artificial intelligence that controlled the environment of the arena responded to the crowd’s chant instantly. The ground underfoot shook as machines buried underneath the arena’s floor shifted into position and activated. A pack of a dozen mantids poured out of a hidden trapdoor behind . The creatures hissed and chittered, snapped at each other with their pincers, their iridescent carapaces taking on an indigo shade of confusion and caution. They were social creatures, attacking threats to the pack as one. Underneath the floor of the arena, they would have been starved and taunted in preparation for the fight. They wouldn’t prey on humans normally, but in their agitated state, they’d pounce upon anything that came too close to them.

“And they’re poisonous,” Anausa thought. “One bites you, and you start to tire. A whole pack bites you, and your heart will stop.

“If they don’t tear you to shreds first.”

Brick gave a bow and a wave to the crowd, then spun on his heel and charged towards Anausa. Brick would be able to alter his course to intercept him if Anausa tried to run. With the mantids at his back, Anausa had no choice but to stand and fight.

The blows rained down mercilessly upon them. He dodged what he could, but Brick advanced with every swing of his fists, and the sheer force and weight behind his punches was leaving Anausa a little more tired with every attack he was forced to block. His hands came up slower, his feet grew more uncertain, and the hissing of the mantids grew louder with every passing seconds.

“I’m going to die,” Anausa thought. “I’m actually going to die. I can’t fight him hand-to-hand. I need a weapon. I need–

“The daggers.” They were still lodged in Brick’s back. The soldier’s instinct kicked in and Anausa dropped his guard. He let Brick him, but instead of collapsing to the ground or standing and taking the full force of the blow, he let the giant’s momentum move him. He shifted around behind him, watching with grim satisfaction as a look of surprise overtook Brick’s face and the brute stumbled, suddenly off-balance. Brick’s shoulder slipped past Anausa’s vision, and then the gleaming metal of a dagger. He reached up, twisted, and pulled it free. Brick roared in pain, but the noise was drowned out by the snarl of the mantids, their burning hunger stoked as the scent of fresh blood filled the air.

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