Writin Contest VI - Second Attempt

[misfitX]

alright, i haven't done one o' these in a while, so i'ma do this one, whether or not it sucks balls. my script, not the contest. don't hit me.


yeah so to clarify, is that WWI? or WWII? or does it matter?

[joqn]

but it doesn't have to be ww2? mine certainly isn't.

please hang on, i only came across this yesterday, rough today, type up tommorow, post 13th.

it's probably immature and such, but i have to get it out there...

[Ugga Bugga]

hey joqn, nice to see you here at PJ.

The concept with these contests, is to use the drawing for inspiration. Whatever that inspiration might be.

[banshee]

Ok folks voting thread is up:
http://www.penciljack.com/forum/show...251#post649251

PLEASE POST YOUR FINAL ENTRY IN THAT THREAD.. IF YOUR ENTRY IS NOT THERE BY: TUES 10/25 (WHEN DAN OR I WILL PLACE THE POLL), YOU WILL NOT BE INCLUDED IN LIST....

ok ok I will quit yelling now lol.. head on over..

lia etc

[W_Laputka]

Over the Hill
By Woodruff Laputka

We open quietly.

An array of snowy hills and snow cascaded evergreens sits in winter tranquility beneath a calm, peaceful mid day sun. There are no clouds in the sky, while mountains caress the horizon.

We start to see soldiers, carrying guns in extended arms, dirty and dressed in netted green BDU's, Green, and Netted Helmets and burdened by various forms of luggage strapped unto their backs, squirm up at an angle, going up hill. We hear their breathing and their grunting, and the rustling of the snow beneath their uniforms and packs. More and more start appearing, all swarming uphill in the same fashion.

Someone coughs, and in the soft rustling and silence of the snow-evoked forest it is heard quite clearly.

At the near top of the hill, looking from an upward angle, many soldiers sit crouched in the snow, the front of their uniforms caked with ice and wet. One of the men is on a transponder phone: a great black box he holds to his ear with a large, wiry antenna sticking out of it. The chord of the box leads away to another group of soliders, all huddled together while trying to balance the vague form of a dull looking, black satellite dish.

Many speak but we do not hear. The clouds of hot breath fume out of their talking mouths, while many cigars sit quaintly in tight, dry lips of men sitting against trees and men assembling various, unidentifiable machinery all about the scene.

Slowly, as the soldiers squirm to the hilltop, lift themselves from the cold white snow and sit themselves in obviously designated groups does the word of a deep, bellowing voice emit amidst the grouping, the speakers mouth occupied:

VOICE: “This is Ground Zero, Boys”

We see, from a low lying shot on the ground panning upward, a tall, ornamented figure, wearing thicker dress that then rest of the troops, and with a tall officers cap on the top of his head. His black, leather gloved hands are full, one holding a long, black saber (sheathed) that extends from his hand like a cane and disappears behind his black boots. The other holds a small, copper colored object resting in the palm of his hand, his thumb punching variously about the small, plate like objects unseen surface. His face is chiseled, war-wise and grim, with a large, fat, black cigar hanging from his thin, dry purple lips. There is no hair that we can see of his body.

Behind him, several men are carting up a large artillery fixture. He turns, his thumb still punching away on the copper colored plate, and brings up his right hand (which holds the copper colored object) and pulls out his cigar.

OFFICER: “Hey, be careful with that boys! That’s a big piece of Government material. Hell I couldnt lift the thing by my self, so don’t give that guff like its so heavy, GOT IT?”

The men reply in sync, marine accordance:

MEN: “YES SIR!”

OFFICER (turning back to his copper colored device and putting his cigar back in his mouth): “That’s Raaiight”

From behind, at shoulder head level, we watch a group of soliders putting a large, black metal object together.

Solider 1: “Make sure the locks on good Frank”

Frank (Solider 2): “hell, this things hard to push. Lean on the Leg a bit to give me some slack space”

Solider 1 pushes down on the leg of a large, metal tripod, while the other reaches up into the even larger, box like aperture the tripod holds atop it and strains a bit, turning his face and wincing until we hear a loud “CLICK!” noise.

Frank: “Got it!”

Solider 1: “Could it be colder?”

Frank: “Maybe. God stand over there and roll around for awhile, and see if the Sarges face don’t turn purple”

Soldier 1 laughs.

We hear a loud horn blow, and the two stop their joke, both squatting beneath the aperture, look up and outward, both faces turning stone serious.

From the Side, we see the officer look up from his copper panel, taking his cigar from his mouth, and exhaling the remaining smoke through his nose.

We view the hill top from the side, all activity has stopped, and all the soldiers, including the ones still squirming up the hill side, are look up towards the top of the hill, the ones who sit there looking over with stern, serious faces.

Looking from a downward angle, we pan to the left, seeing the faces of all the soldiers still on their bellies in the snow. Many eyes look upward beneath their green netted helmets.

Looking at the hill top from the other side, we see the Officer slowly rise above the pinnacle, saber in one hand, cigar held to the mouth the mouth with the other. The burning embers of the black tobacco blaze as he looks through the brim of his snow capped green officers hat with squinted, curious eyes, stopping with authoritarian style all about him.

We look and his shoulder, green and dirty, and pan upward and outward to view a great, grey landscape, the remains of many hundreds of evergreens standing grimly, withered and burnt black. A great, desolate heath expands far and wide, patches of snow lying scattered, with two tall, haze covered mountains sitting in the distance, immense in size and menacing.

Looking closely at eye level, we see the wincing right eye of the officer beneath the brim of his cap, the burning embers of his black cigar glowing greatly as he inhales. A black gloved finger resting atop the cigar. His eye, cold and blue, peers with conscious intent, and with a mission in mind.
The Horn Blow Again, Loud and long from the great desolate waste.

From the side, we say many, many green uniformed soliders scrambling left and right. Great black artillery units, sitting on long, sturdy tripods are erected, their gunmen buckling in tightly while cranking themselves into place.

We see the Officer from an upward view, waving his cigar around while barking orders into the Transponder Phone.

OFFICER: “I SAID GET THAT NET UP, ANDERSON! IM NOT GOING TO HAVE THIS MISSION BLOWN BECAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO LISTEN!...”
(His voice trails off as we pan to the right and watch the assembly of the great, black gun barrels and the preparation of the troops loading weaponry, guns, unpacking bags and setting great globs of snow upon netted tarps, where beneath 6 men to each lie belly down, long gun barrels barely passing the brim.)

From the side, looking upward, we watch one solider Olli-OOp a fellow soldier into the gunner seat of one of the Artillery guns. The lifted solider straps himself in. the other solider lifts a black metal pistol up to the gunner. The gunner leans over in his harness and reaches downward with a gloved hand.
The Horn whales again, off in the distance.
We see a close up of the gunner’s gloved hand reaching for the pistol. He grabs hold, exerting hot breath in the cold air. The Horn can still be heard.

Solider of the Ground: “Take it, ive got to get over to the nets!”

Gunner: “Jump up! My Arms are short man!”

We Look downwards at the solider with the gun. The solider on the ground jumps up, lays the gun in the gunners hand, and falls back down. His landing is off angle.
We see a quick shot of a small black stone beneath his falling foot, and his foot slipping off.
Looking downwards, we see the landing solider slip on the stone and fall with the wait of his heavy pack down into the snow.
The steepness of the hill carries him down and away. Other soliders look at him while working.

He tumbles down the hill and lands against the trunk of a tall evergreen tree with a loud THUD! The Horn stops wailing. He puts his head to his helmet and holds it for a moment.

A Loud boom echoes from a distance, and the snow from the tree falls down on him.

We view the hill covered in guns and soliders, and all rush into places now obviously designated. Men start falling on their bellies, lying on the hill top and overlooking the great grey heath and the mountains on the other side, rifles ready. Another great Boom! Erupts, and we see the gunners turn their barrels high under the orders of the Officer, who is running around with his hands full (Saber and Cigar and Copper colored plate) yelling and screaming orders at them:

Officer: “Wait until I give the signal! When you see the flares, Fire at 2 point 9 alpha! INFO reads we have Incoming! 2 point 9 alpha! Wait for the flairs God Damn It!”
~
We see the desolation and the mountains, and hear the boom again. The Officer goes up and stands at the top of the hill, looking carefully, as if for some sign. A large, black pistol sitting in his hand. He thrusts his saber into the snow.

Looking at the misty twin peaks, a great boom shakes the landscape, and through the mist, we see the faintness of a great bulk appear and disappear.
The artillery guns all stand lined up, ready, the sun gleaming on their black barrels.

Looking at the twin peaks again, a great, mechanical roar bellows from out the mists, and out through the space between them emerges the massive bulk of a giant robot, colored in crimsons and dull black, with two legs tromping at great speed as its two large arms, both bearing one great mechanical claw, twist and turn at its side.

All goes quiet.

From the side, at a distance, we see the officer standing on the top of the hill, raise his big black pistol, and shoot outward, like a firework, a shimmering white flare, sailing out, over the desolation, and exploding like a cloud of starlight, the faint puff of smoke curling about the officer as the robot makes its charge.

From above we see the giant robot tromping full sped now, hulk shifting from left to right as its goes and the shimmering white flare glittering brightly and dwarfed by its girth.

From the hill, we view the robot coming with arms flailing. From a worms eye view, we see the sky begin to light up in gold colour, all gathered about pone spot. From side, we see the robot about to smash its but into the hill, into the officer, when a great, golden light plummets down from the clouds, covering the size of the robots girth.

Looking at the snarled face of the officer

Officer: “FIRE!!!” Every Artillery gun goes off, from side, plumes of smoke emit with the massive charge explosions from out the gun barrels. Many barrels recoil while many fire.
From a worms eye view, we see the pillar of light emitting from the clouds; the blasts from the artillery guns emerging through the light as great clouds of fiery explosion.

Looking at the officer, he turns and snaps his fingers. A solider throws him the black transponder phone. He brings the large Transponder phone to his mouth with utter urgency. “ Now!!!” he yells into it. From a worms eye view we see the column of light vanish, revealing the large, shaking mass of a battered robot, still standing and missing an arm and with many holes about the large shell of its front.

A second beam of light appears, and from atop the hill, we see its strike down hard upon the top of the machine with a tiatanic “BOOM!”, obliterating it in one great blast from the sky. Fire erupts from where the column touches the earth, burning the valley below. The snow against the side of the hill closest to the beam melts away, but the officer stands defiantly, watching with unblinking eyes. The column vanishes, and we see that the giant robot is no longer there, the mark of a massive, black crater being all that remains.
From atop the hill, we see every troop lift his arm and yell in unison, “Hazah!!”
Looking upward at the top of the hill, we see the officer scramble down to the transponder phone dish and take a seat next to the relay box, resting against the snow..
Officer: “What’s that Anderson? Yes, Perfect shooting there. Your Generals Commend you! Yes, Total neutralization. My boys weakened him but good, HAH! Well have to fit the rest of the fleet with these babies if we plan on taking out the ret of them. Good work!…”
We see from the side, at a distance, the silhouette of those about him, doing various things, packing machinery and patting one another on the back.
Officer: “…Well pack up the material and meet Robin back at the drop off point. Keep an eye out for us, as were still in a hot spot. But I imagine that boom will give them something to shake about long enough for us to get on through. Tremendous Job, again, Anderson. Good Work!"

END

[DannoE]

KID
By: Dan Head

PAGE 1 – 4 PANELS

1: Est. shot of a WWII Drill Instructor standing in front of a formation of new recruits and yelling.

DI: Alright you goddamn lousy bastard…

Caption: Despite what you might have heard, Basic wasn’t too bad.


2: Similar shot, but now we see this from behind the DI so that we are looking into the face of one - KID, the protagonist in this here strip. KID is blond and of average height and build but somewhat more muscular than his contemporaries on either side of him.

Caption: I grew up on a farm in Western Pennsylvania.

Caption: My Daddy used to hit me harder’n most the Drill Sergeants did, and the work was harder on the farm, too.

DI: …do you hear me you maggots?!


3: Again, similar shot, but this time from further back so that we can see that there many, many formations exactly like this one lined up and stretching off into the distance. This is the formation of the citizen-soldier Army of WWII, one of the great transformations of American society, and the purpose of this shot is to capture the scope of the change.

Caption: We were all kids going off to fight the Hun. Together.


4: Again, similar shot, but pull back even further so that we can see the American Flag flying above the parade ground with the troops in the background.

Caption: It was simple. A great nation, when tested, rises as one to defeat evil.



PAGE 2 – 3 PANELS

1: Est. Shot of a converted luxury liner steaming towards France. It’s night, and the ship is running under blackout conditions.

Caption: I didn’t start to learn the truth until we were on board the ship.


2: Est, shot of the ship’s steerage compartment, filled to the bursting with teenage GI’s all piled on top of one another and all seasick. KID is in the middle with his head resting on his hand, trying to write a letter. A guy next to him is puking his guts out, and one on the other side is lying there holding his stomach.

Caption: A thousand unwashed bodies packed on top of each other. We were meat.


3: Close-up of our hero looking miserable as the guy next to him regurgitates into a bucket.

Caption: Meat for the slaughter.


PAGE 3 – 5 PANELS

1: Establishing shot of a WWII Replacement Depot tent city. Tents with young soldier stretch off into the distance into infinity… AND BEYOND!

KID is standing in the foreground in a chow line. He is holding a metal tray. It’s cold, and we can see his breath. He is wearing his helmet, and stuck into the side is a white tag with a number. You pick the number.

Caption: At the Repple Depple*, I wasn’t even human. I was just a number.

* Replacement Depot.


2: Now KID is on the back of a truck, riding towards the front. He looks young and nervous. It’s snowing lightly.

Caption: They said it’d get better when we got to our units, but it didn’t.


3: Est. shot. At the front, KID stands by himself, looking lost. He has just reached his platoon. A couple of the platoon’s vets are sitting together on a log trying to keep warm in the snow. One has turned around and looks at KID suspiciously. The others are pointedly ignoring him.

Caption: At the front, I wasn’t even a number. I wasn’t an individual at all.

Caption: I was one of THEM. A F&%$#’ing NEW GUY.


4: Close up of the suspicious vet – SGT RILEY. He looks disgusted just to have to lay eyes on KID.

Caption: A replacement for a real comrade, killed in action against an implacable, efficient, unforgiving enemy.


5: Similar shot to #3. Now all of the vets have turned away from KID. KID has his hands in his pocket. He is lonely, bored, and cold.

Caption: Odds were that I’d be killed within the week. Why bother learning my name?

Caption: Why get close?


PAGE 4 – 6 PANELS

Note: the first three panels on this page run across the top in a little row.

1: It’s night. We see a treeline being lit from behind by outgoing artillery fire.

SFX: WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Caption: The shelling started that night.


2: KID and SGT Riley are sharing a foxhole. KID is crouched down in the bottom, and tears are coming out of his eyes, cause that’s how scared he is. RILEY has been through this before, so he isn’t crying, but he isn’t having fun either.

SFX: SCREEEEEEE! BOOM!

Caption: I lay in my hole and cried as the rounds came in.


3: Similar shot. Now the shelling has stopped. SGT Riley is getting up, knowing that it was a preparatory bombardment for an infantry assault. KID is wide-eyed and amazed to discover that he is alive.

Caption: But then it stopped.


4: This is a very similar shot to the one that started this exercise. Riley is a grizzled vet, leading a charge up into the unit’s fighting positions. KID is following him out of the foxhole, looking exactly like a confused newbie who wonders what the heck is going on.

Caption: SGT Riley got up. Not knowing what else to do, I followed him.

Caption: I didn’t want to get left behind.


5: Close up of a blonde German teenager with a rifle on his shoulder. He has it pointed at Riley, but we don’t know that yet.

Caption: I don’t know how it happened.


6: Est. shot. The German kid has Riley dead-to-rights with his rifle at very close range. RILEY knows that he is about to die.

Caption: I didn’t plan it.

Caption: I didn’t make a decision.


PAGE 5 – 5 PANELS

Again, this page opens with 3 panels across the top and then one large one at the bottom.

1: First-person-shooter POV. KID has the German’s head in his site-picture. The German is looking the other way and has no idea that he’s about to die.


2: Close up of KID firing his rifle.

SFX: CRACK!


3: The German falls dead. Riley looks back to KID with a look of utter amazement on his face. He knows that he almost died, and he knows who saved him.


4: Similar shot to PAGE 3, PANEL 3. Now the vets are all looking at KID with interest. He’s no longer an outsider, and they have a wholly different attitude towards him now.

Caption: After that it was different.

Caption: We were still meat for the slaughter…


5: RILEY is standing up and shaking KID’s hand.

RILEY: What’s yer name, KID?

Caption: … but we were also all in it TOGETHER.