I've been working on developing video games for a few years now. I put up a blog on here to share what I hope will be sensible and interesting articles about game design. The "Fame Design" name came to me when I thought, "I want to be famous for only one thing: video games".
At the moment I'm developing new games in Flash. So I expect to share experiences in being an indie game developer. I often find myself wondering if I should be working in Flash, HTML5, XNA, or the iPhone/iPad SDK. Time will tell.
This chapter was a little hard for me to write. I'll leave it up to you guys to guess why. But, it had to be written! It's all part of the plan. I actually don't know all of the middle of the story, but I know exactly how I want it to end now. The pieces are all set up. The game is afoot!!! Special thanks to my girl Kahla for helping me with the art. I was super impressed by it. Special thanks to Elsa for letting me use her character even though I hadn't technically got her permission.
They rode a beat up truck into Greenvale. Gasoline was in extremely short supply. This truck used bio-fuel that they could purchase at any food store. They could even purchase used fry-machine oil for a discount. Beyamor found the smell of food to be better than gasoline. It took the edge off of the Greenvale situation for him. And it made everyone hungry.
When they arrived, Beyamor was in good spirits. His mind was on the mission. Hugh and James sat up in the truck more alert. The whole drive had been silent, but the hum of the motor and the treading of the tires on the asphalt had been white noise. Now there was only an eerie breeze surrounding them that they could only assume was Beyamor’s weather control stirring the air.
Beyamor walked them to his house. On the floor was a slight impression of scratches on the floor where he had found the piece of cloth from his wife’s pants. Everything was so empty without people. There wasn’t one person in sight. News hadn’t even reached other places. Sooner or later, people would come to the village. They would wonder what happened too. But mostly they would come and loot the place.
Hugh touched the walls and started the conversation with them, feeling around for any physical memory of the attacker. There were floor boards with tons of information. The walls told the story of how Beyamor’s wife died.
She was getting home from work and there was an intruder in the house. He sat at the table. The sword he was holding touched the ground to his side. He wore a shirt and jeans, nothing special. His shirt was made of slightly more expensive fabric – maybe it was a designer shirt or a button up shirt. His face remained hidden, probably because no object touched his face, but possibly because he wore a mask.
He ran after her and scared her. She dropped to the floor and turned to talk to him. She may have been pleading for her life or scolding him. The words weren’t clear, but Hugh was sure that the murderer kept his calm. His voice was never louder than a whisper. He guided her back into a corner in the kitchen where he lopped off her arm with his katana. She sat in the corner holding her stump while he cooked part of her on the stove. Hugh could assume that the man started eating her flesh because when he put down the limb, there were bite marks.
After a few minutes she tried to crawl away and he cut off her leg, leaving the piece of cloth Beyamor found. He cooked more of her after that, and let the rest of her body bleed. No sexual contact – just… food. The man left Beyamor’s house for about an hour. During that time, her body (including her limbs) seemed to soften. Her skin became loose and old. The blood that was spilt hardened and her flesh became rotten. Her body became so old within that hour that she almost completely decomposed into ash. What was left of her flew away in the wind.
“Did you find anything?” Beyamor asked.
“No, not yet.” Hugh said.
James walked in slowly out of one of the rooms. “Uh, guys?”
“Slowly…” A woman’s voice came from behind the wall. Beyamor could see a katana blade at James’s back. She peeked around the doorway and crept out behind James. “What are you boys doing here?”
“Uh, hi! Let’s just calm down shall we? No one needs to get hurt. We’re not looters.” Hugh said carefully.
“Who are you? What is your name?” She poked James.
“My name is Francis York Morgan. I’m a detective. These are my deputies. We’re trying to find out what happened in this town.” James said.
“Uh, yes. I’m Steezy.” Hugh said.
“I’m Occam’s Elec- er… Just call me Occam’s.” Beyamor said.
“Okay kids. I’m Elsa.” She said with authority. “And here’s how things are going to go. If you guys don’t mess with me, I won’t cut you to shreds. I’m looking for a man, probably the man responsible for what happened to Greenvale.”
“We’re looking for him too.” James said. “If you’re good with that sword, you might be able to help us. We can use all the people we can get.”
“How do you know I won’t kill you in your sleep?” Elsa said.
“You’d have killed us already right?” James looked at Hugh and gestured over to Elsa with his eyes. This usually meant that Hugh was supposed to touch her hand with a handshake. Hugh could usually tell a lot about who they were dealing with in a simple high-five. But, he wasn’t superman. He shook his head, rejecting the proposition. He was still squishy. The farther away he was from the sword, the better.
“That’s true. I have no need to kill you boys. The lot of you seem like fine folks to me.” Elsa spoke. “I have to write a note for the killer here – let him know we’re coming for him.”
She wrote, “No matter where you hide, I will find you. I will not let you get away with what you have done.” She pulled out a throwing knife and stabbed the message eye-level into the door.
“How do you know he’ll see the message?” James said.
“I don’t. But I do a lot of posts.” Elsa smiled.
“Just another Elsa post huh?” Beyamor said.
“Shut it!” Elsa pointed at Beyamor with another knife.
They all searched the town for more clues. Hugh found more ash and accounted for every death in the area. After the first one hundred people, it was a bit too much for his emotions to handle. He knew that he would have to do the rest. Sometimes he would pray for his soul to be hardened, so that none of this would get to him. Something told him he would never have that though, no matter how many atrocities were hovering around in his mind.
He eventually told Beyamor what happened, and he took it exceptionally well. Everyone else in town died the same way. And the killer was in the middle on his knees focusing, or praying. He had the ability to speed up the aging process to dangerous levels. Hugh was sure of it.
There was a panic in town while he was here. “That’s probably why he killed all of them.” Hugh thought. A lot of them found out who he was. He’s a man that doesn’t like to leave evidence.
“Do you think the killer already knows we are looking for him?” Beyamor said.
“Probably not.” James said. “I really don’t know what he’s looking for at all yet. Maybe just a bite to eat.”
“Yeah, but if he did know. Is there anyone watching your office? Or what about Hugh’s shop?” Beyamor said.
“Well, nothing at my office has any real value. But we have someone watching Occam’s Electric Toothbrush.” James explained.
Mr. Andy Dixon stood at the shop outside in his regular attire at night. He told his daughter to go ahead and do some shopping, so he was alone there with a bottle of beer in his hand watching the moon through his sun-glasses.
He thought it was an animal at first. There were footsteps fast approaching him. He picked up his crowbar and prepared to defend Occam’s Electric Toothbrush.
The man approaching him wore a red hoodie keeping his head covered and face in shadow. A blur of red bolted towards Mr. Andy Dixon and on further inspection the man’s hood looked like it made a face and had teeth protruding from it, large eyebrows, and beady eyes above it like a strange Halloween costume.
White men can sometimes jump.
Mr. Andy Dixon jumped high into the air hurtling himself towards his attacker. The hooded man dodged but Mr. Andy Dixon’s crowbar slammed into his shoulder. Pulling up on the crowbar, Mr. Andy Dixon pried off the man’s arm and chucked it into the dirt. But, the man appeared to feel none of the pain. Mr. Andy Dixon was frightened, it was a fright unlike he had ever felt before.
The hooded man stood up and attacked again, this time with only one arm and with a deafening scream.
Miss Alice Dixon came to give her father the groceries he asked for, but found him in the mud, laying there with claw marks on his body. She dropped her bags and fell onto him with tears in her eyes, fumbling around to check his breathing. She slapped him a few times, shook him, to see if he was alive.
“It’s you.” Mr. Andy Dixon said. “My baby girl.”
“Dad!” She wailed. “What happened!?”
“I have something to tell you.” Mr. Andy Dixon said, his speech slurring.
“Wait, no, don’t talk. I’m going to get someone!” Miss Alice Dixon hurried.
“No, my daughter. Please… Listen…” Mr. Andy Dixon coughed up blood coming from his lungs.
“Dad… No… Please…” She cried.
“I wanted to tell you, that when we had you – your mother and I knew that we would pass down certain… abilities… to you.” Mr. Andy Dixon said, barely able to push out his words.
“Dad please… I love you… Don’t go…” She hugged him and brought him closer – her shirt stained with Mr. Andy Dixon’s blood.
“I noticed that when I *cough* when you were conceived, I lost my power to fly.” Mr. Andy Dixon explained. “So I just want you to know, that I love you and your mom - more than anything in this world. And if… if you’re in danger… just fly away baby. My daughter. My child. If you are in danger, think of me, and fly away… fly away… fly…”
“Dad… No…” Miss Alice Dixon held her father and felt his breathing stop. “I love you dad. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Mr. Andy Dixon
Miss Alice Dixon vowed to bring her father’s killer to justice, for that was the day that Mr. Andy Dixon died.