Words can be compelling when well written, leading the reader along on an engaging journey that the author controls. Yet how do we measure our success as a writer? Often times, our readers inject their own ideas into our stories: what the characters look like, how they sound, the visual surroundings, the music, all of it is subjective to each individual. This is part of the appeal of good storytelling, our ability to relate to the subject matter. It is also why many movies and television shows fail. For the most part, we are handed everything and asked to follow along. A good script will have twists and turns, leaving us guessing as to what is going to happen, or finishing on a cliffhanger to hopefully engender enough interest for us to return to the next showing of the subject matter.
Writing for print and writing a screenplay are two very different things.
A small Minmatar Captain’s Quarters. The vidscreen broadcasts in the background, cycling through various news channels and military comms: Incursion locations, wanted criminals with bounties on their heads, up to the minute coverage of the Empyrean War between the Minmatar and Amarr. Light from the screen spills across the metallic floor, coffee table and couch. There is a well worn ass groove in the leather of the couch. The lighting in the room flickers, indicating disrepair. A slightly metallic smell fills the air, mixed with a hint of mechanical fluids and rust.
The camera pans slows from the vidscreen, zooming outwards to encompass the table, the couch, dollying along the length of the room, refocusing on the small bunk against the wall. The audio from the vidscreen can still be heard. The bed covers are dishevelled. A small alarm clock sounds. Ambient noises can be heard in the distance. They are muted, as if behind a thick steel door. The camera zooms in beside the bed towards the lavatory door and stops.
A flush is heard. Roc Wieler steps out, a smile on his face. The audience roars and applauds. The show theme music plays.
“Twice already and not even 0600 hours.” Roc says with pride. The live studio audience is prompted to laugh. Roc is dressed in standard Tribal Liberation Force issue pants and boots. They are wrinkled and well worn. A loose fitting white tank top hangs from his muscular chest. There are a few food stains on it. He looks unkept. His bald head has stubble that extends all the way around his strong jawline, giving the appearance he hasn’t shaved in days.
He sits on the bunk and pulls out his Neocom, a small communications device. “Aura darlin, what do you have planned for me today?” he says.
A computerized, yet sensually female voice replies. “And good morning to you too, Roc.” The audience laughs. “Nothing scheduled for today. You are officially on leave.” she states.
Roc snorts derisively. “I guess miracles can happen.” The audience laughs.
He reaches down under the bunk and pulls out a duffle bag. Opening it, he pulls outs a towel, gives it a sniff, and pulls his face back quickly, his face contorting into a rude expression. The audience groans. Roc shrugs, putting the towel back in the duffle bad, zipping it up, then stands, slinging it over his shoulder. The audience laughs and groans.
“Well, time to hit the gym.” Roc says, walking towards a part of the room we haven’t seen. The distant sounds become closer as he approaches a steel door set in the far wall. Ambient sci-fi music is the soundtrack. He pushes a button. The door opens. We see a hint of what lies beyond: a massive and scenic interior cityscape of a space station. There are hundreds of people out of focus in the near distance. Personal speeders fly by overhead. The sounds are overwhelming.
BREAK TO COMMERCIAL
Muzak plays quietly in the background. Roc stands in front of a row of gym lockers, the one behind him open. He has loose and comfortable gym pants on, one leg up on a bench, tying a shoe. He is topless. He is relatively hairless, but large across the shoulders. He has a single tribal tatto that covers most of the left side of his chest. The women in the audience moan in appreciation of his chiseled physique.
Roc turns to the locker and pulls out the same tank top he was wearing earlier. The audience groans again at the same gag. The camera turns to being in the locker. Behind Roc’s head, other well built men and women can be seen in the changing room, though out of focus. The door closes to black.
CUT TO GYM FLOOR
Heavy rock music plays quietly in the background. The camera is focused into a mirror, giving the illusion we are actually looking at Roc. He is doing deep squats with a free standing weight bar, several large plates on either side. The weight is causing the bar to sag. From the squatted position, Roc pushes upwards into a stand, his face turning red, veins bulging in his head, neck, shoulders and chest. He rests a moment after the rep.
“Wooh! That’s one!” he says, then grins. Some of the audience chuckles. The camera turns from the mirror, focusing on the real Roc Wieler, specifically the plates of the weight bar. The number 45 comes into focus. The camera pans to watch Roc as he performs another deep squat. The audience ooos and aaahs as it becomes obvious there is 5 of these plates on either side of the bar, giving a total of 450 lbs. The enormity of this task is emphasized as two much taller, larger men walk by in the background, both of them with a look of shock on their face at what Roc is doing. They stop as he finishes another rep.
“Dayum! You on the juice?” one says, half jokingly. The audience chuckles.
“Sure am.” Roc replies. “Pomegranate and orange, every morning.” The audience laughs. The guy that asked the question dismisses Roc’s comment with a hand wave, then he and his buddy walk away.
“Don’t want a stupid answer don’t ask a stupid question.” Roc mumbles to himself as he starts another repetition. The audience roars and claps.
The scene cross fades to Roc in the shower, after his workout. 70s style porn music plays. He is completely naked, his butt exposed. The ladies in the audience oooh and ahhh. He is covered in soap later, and the wetness makes him look he even sexier. He slowly turns towards the camera as it pans down his body.
BREAK FOR COMMERCIAL
The camera is set far for a distant shot. More of the hustle and bustle of the busy space station can be seen as the camera slowly zooms in on a small cafe patio. Roc slowly comes into focus. He is eating a table food of healthy looking foods, complete with two glasses of water, some type of milkshake, and a beer, which he takes a drink of. The audience laughs. It is a very busy cafe and there appears to be no available seating aside from the second chair at Roc’s patio table.
The camera turns to a tall, beautiful, dark haired woman. Fashion catwalk music plays. Her hair is shoulder length and flowing freely. She wears a shiny, tight blue bodysuit that covers her fully, but exposes every sensual part of a woman a man could hope to see in public. She wears high heel boots, and walks with confidence. The male members of the audience moan and whistle. A man can be seen staring back as he passes her, walking into a wall. The audience laughs. The woman holds a small tray in her hands, She stops, looking around confused, spotting the seat at Roc’s table. She smiles her best smile and walks over, leaning down over Roc, her cleavage fully exposed.
“Excuse me, but is anyone sitting here?” she asks Roc.
Roc doesn’t change his body posture, but he lowers his shades enough for the audience to see that he is talking to her breasts. The audience laughs.
“Yeah. You.” he says.
The lady smiles and sits down.
“My name is Malaena.” she says, her voice filled with flirtation.
“Roc.” he replies.
“I bet you are.” she mumbles, taking a quick sip from the straw of her drink. The audience erupts in catcalls and hollers.
Roc takes a drink of his beer, his meal nearly finished. She raises an eyebrow.
“A bit early to be drinking?” she asks playfully.
“It’s noon somewhere, darlin.” he replies, downing the beer. The audience roars and laughs.
“Touche.” she replies,her pouty lower lip held slightly open by the straw. Her eyes smolder at Roc.
“I’d like that.” Roc mumbles to himself. The audience chuckles.
“Pardon me?” she asks.
“Just saying it’s nice to have the company of a beautiful woman for a little bit. Makes the day that much better.” Roc replies, a boyish grin on his face. He raises his arms behind his head, showing off his biceps.
She stares at his arms, then looks back at him. Her smiles grows wider.
“If that’s a true statement, how much of your day can I make better for you?” she says, leaning forward again, her cleavage exposed.
The scene pauses for a moment.
“Cheque please!” Roc yells, summoning a waiter as quickly as possible. The audience laughs. He quickly pays the bill, stands, and offers his arm. She stands and accepts, and they begin to walk away, both of them smiling.
BREAK FOR COMMERCIAL
The camera and music mimic the intro scene, panning from the Minmatar Quarters vidscreen slowly across the coffee table and couch. The only difference is that this time there are loud sounds of a couple having aggressive sex. The name Roc is moaned a few times. The audience ooohs and aaahs in rising pitch.
There is a slightly startled scream, then a loud thud. The camera finishes panning, focusing on the beautiful woman from before collapsed on the floor by the bunk, a sheet wrapped around her enough not to expose any private parts. Roc is laying on his side on the bed, the sheet barely covering his hips. He still has his sunglasses on.
“You need a bigger bed.” The woman says, grinning. The audience laughs.
“Or a softer floor.” Roc replies, throwing the sheet to the side and diving at the woman on the floor. Their lips meet. The audience roars. The scene fades black though the sex sounds continue.
The scene fades up. They are collapsed in the far corner of the room, interwined. The sheet is in the middle of the floor. The light flickers. Both are breathing heavily. The woman looks at her watch.
“We’ve been at this for nearly four hours.” she says with disbelief.
Roc smiles. “Good.” he begins. “That means we’ve got time for more.” They both smile. The audience ooohs and ahhhh. Roc leans in and they kiss again, passionately.
SCENE FADE TO BLACK
glad to see i’m not the only one who has dipped their toes into script writing, I like it.