How's it going guys? Sean here. I just wanted to post this thread to share my ideas about the first three paragraphs of my newest story game. Although I thought this a little bit too bloody, since I wanted some more opinion, I left it open to you's (intentional) to decide. Tell me what you think?
The October land is saturated with heat from the glaring sun, though the chill can already be felt from the occasional winds that dance around the road, kicking up particles of dirt and grime. The faraway mountains are shrouded by wisps of white; odd clumps of grey cling to its sides as though souls who have died valiantly in battle are reluctant to leave the soil where it shed its blood. The roadside is cluttered by irregularly shaped stones, and even the occasional tree springing out of the ground looks oddly hostile with its dying branches shaped in bizarre death throes.
Clouds in the sky are of dull white; the grassy hill shifts beneath the breeze. Though many believe a battle to be a glorious and exciting repast on open green fields, reality points the wrongs of common thought: real war is fought by ignorant young men with blood burning through their temples, and waged by anonymous old men with long noses and longer beards. These heartless old men have only their own interests in mind. None thought of the welfare of soldiers, none thought to the possibility of failure, and above all, none thought of the breaking of parents from their offspring. The grass on the hill is but an illusion. The hill is composed of bodies, and the grass, the red grass that moves so stubbornly beneath the high winds, were once used for grasping swords buckling shields.
The sound of horses and men vibrates through the still air. The dragoons marching in the forefront kick up storms of dust into the eyes of the prisoners trailing behind. Guardsmen armed with spears trail on either side of the procession. On the right side, a sheer slab of mountain stone blocks out the sun, and on the left, a steep drop to a dreary demise prevents any means of travel. There would be no attempted escapes. The prisoners' hands were locked by large wooden slabs chained to each other , and connected firmly to the wagon carrying heavy loads of equipment. These prisoners were no more than cattle; they will remain this way for the rest of their days.
Did the hill of fingers go a bit too far? Or does it fit snugly into the 7/8 maturity rating?
Almost 5% done with this story game - 47 pgs. so far, just 329 more to go :D