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Author Topic: "2000TV" Story Comp VOTING THREAD (WITH PRIZES)  (Read 752 times)

Bad City Blue

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« on: 02 July, 2017, 08:53:17 pm »
Blah blah blah... short story comp... blah blah blah... great entries... blah blah blah...

blah blah blah... vote for your favourite... blah blah blah...prizes...blah blah blah...

You know the drill...



And now, on Mega-City One TV...

"Good evening Slabwalkers and Stomm-talkers, I'm Juggs Juggsley and on tonight's show we'll be talking to the channels creator, and former Chief Judge, Dan Francisco! Dan, good to see you!"

"Thanks, Juggs. And it's Judge Francisco!"

"Indeed! So tell me... Judge, why a new channel? What's wrong with the other 1984 that we have?"

"Well, Juggs, what myself and Justice Department are trying to do here is show the good folks at home that Judges are Human too! Additionally, we want to show people... And I want to emphasise this... Every aspect of life in the Big Meg! Top to bottom, Muties to malcontents, Meggers and beggars, Fatties and Twatties..."

"Uh, what's a 'Twattie', Judge?"

"In broad terms you could say a Punk Juve but these guys like to wear orange wigs and staple there mouths into curious, pursed states. 'Twatties' seemed quite fitting, though they do refer to themselves as 'The Simps of Trump' so  maybe we should call them 'Strumps'! We'll be exploring these sorts of important issues on our show!"

"Sounds good! Will you be taking any suggestions from the public as to future content?"

"Heh, nice idea Juggs. We launched a suggestions page on the top rated internet forum, 'Thrag's thoughts'*, but after nearly 15,000 pages we decided the general public doesn't actually know what it wants! But that doesn't mean they won't like what we have to deliver!"

"Well, it's been great talking to you, Da... Judge Francisco! Thanks for coming in!"

"No problem, Juggs!"

*deliberate spelling



Mega-City Law

The Judge towered over the desk, his helmet presenting the impassive face of justice to citizens. Citizens like ...

“Elspeth McGregor, Judge. Attorney at law, I’m here on behalf of my clients, the Scrantons.”

“And what do you do for them, Ms McGregor?”

“I brokered the purchase of their Con-apt in Harry Hamlin block, wrote their wills, and I set up the trust for their son, Buggy, who is ...”

“Currently in our holding pens as the main suspect in a murder on floor 23, Hamlin this morning.”

“Exactly. The tragic murder of a dear family friend of the Scrantons, Rubiz Everdene. But you’ve got the wrong man. This wasn’t Buggy. He’s a good boy who was trying to help her.”

“He has her blood on his clothes, and GSR on his hands.”

“Both the blood and the residue were transferred to his clothing while trying to stop the bleeding and help poor Rubiz.”

“He fled the scene. If he’s innocent why did he run?”

“Buggy is a gentle soul, he doesn’t do well in stressful situations. He went for help and ran straight into Judges responding to a call from a neighbour who heard the shooting. Floor 23 is a tight knit community, they’re good people.”

“So you keep telling me, McGregor. Doesn’t alter the facts.”

“Perhaps we could consider evidence from the camera on 23, it's right by Mrs Everdene’s door.”

“And it’s useless because someone paint-bombed the lens before the murder. I’ve given you a fair hearing, Counsellor. We’ve got our man.”

“You mention hearing, Sir. The paint didn’t block the camera’s microphone did it? Have you played the audio?”

“First thing we reviewed when we brought him in. Everdene answers the door, there’s a scuffle, a gunshot, then footsteps running away, probably Scranton dumping his firearm down a grinder chute before returning to the crime scene. Then the victim says ‘Oh, Buggy’ and that’s it until he hightails it 30 seconds later. Seems clear cut to me.”

“Could you play that recording, Sir? There’s something you need to hear.”

The Judge eyed the lawyer for several long seconds, and then pushed some buttons on the desk console.

“Thank you. Could you forward to the part where Rubiz says my client's name, and then amplify that section? There, do you hear that regular clicking noise? Judge, these are the medical records of my client. Buggy had a congenital heart defect, he has a metallic heart valve replacement. It clicks and people can hear it. Ask your medics to record his heartbeat, it will match up. Now rewind to the gunshot, there are no clicks there at all. Test him, Buggy can't suppress those noises. I respectfully repeat, Sir. My client is innocent. The killer is still out there.”

The Judge stared hard at the diminutive figure in front of him.

“We’ll look into it."

"Thank you, Sir. That's all we ask for.”

"What is it you do again, Ms McGregor?”

“Property law, wills, charitable trusts, family law.”

"How  ...  admirable."




'Yes Armitage, I know you have a case to solve but you've got to help the juve next door with his abandonment issues and volunteer for the radioactive allotment reclamation scheme.'

Crap. I hit the channel select button on my TV remote.

'Welcome back to The Jerome Pyle Show. Our next guest Samantha claims her father neglected her to go off around the galaxy accompanied by a gun-toting infant, a limb-less robotic female and a talking cigar...'


'So tell me Louis, after the operation, when you woke to find yourself as just a brain floating in a water cooler, how did that make you feel?'

I jab the + button.

'So basically, your act is that you're all scantily-clad girls in high powered vehicles killing each other? It's a no from me.'

And that goes for you too.

'Back in the bar, Wulf isn't very pleased with his partner.'

'I don't know why Johnny had to act like that. I said that I could handle the contract on my own but oh no, he had to step in and take all the glory with his glowing eyes and stupid big boots. He doesn't respect me, even after all these years. (Pauses to brush away a tear). He just doesn't care.'

Click. Click. Click.

'He was the swashbuckling hero of Mother Russia - scoundrel, lover, outlaw. But now he's coming to New York!'

No. No. No!

'There may well be unholy beasts at the door wench, all lusting for our mortal souls, but I need to lose this shirt and wash my muscular torso in that there horse trough.'

The red power button catches my eye. One more channel and that's it.

Stars glitter in the velvet void. A face - strange, alien - appears.

 'The universe is filled with countless stories, fruits of infinite imaginations. The mediums on which these tales are written or conveyed are also many. They range from holo-screens to psi-projections to the humble page. Consider the very device you are watching at this moment...'

What the hell is this?

'That screen you're staring at, open-mouthed, it may be a window. It could be a fleeting Vista of the future or the past or a hybrid of both.'

Scarlet curls brush my cheek. White teeth, glistening and poisonous, linger at my throat.

'Or it may just be a doorway.'

Her voice is soft and sweet. The gift she gives me is not.





‘FULL EAGLE’ exec producer BICK MICKLES is at his
desk. JOEY BURPHY storms in and throws a script
in front of him.

I’m through Mr. Mickles. There’s
only so many ways I can die in this
show. You know I wanna shot
at writing an ep. It’s the least
you can give me. So here it is.

This again Joey? Look, you’re the
best damn Background Judge I have.
No one does a 99 Red like you and I
can’t take chances on a new writer.
It’s two years since Necropolis and
the show is just finding its feet

But this is good Bick! Real good.
Season finale at least!

What the hell, gimme the pitch kid.

Ok, so Judge Eagle starts having
doubts about the Justice system. He
ends up taking the long walk. Hall
of Justice can’t afford to lose their
best helmet so they put a clone in
his place. Only the top brass know,
the cits and the other Judges are
none the wiser. But the clone turns
bad. Corrupt genepool y’see? Ends
up freeing the Dark Judges! Eagle
has to come back and save his city!

That’s like saying Necropolis was the
Judges fault! Grud sake, Joey…

I know what your thinking Bick, but
the Judges ain’t gonna object. Come
on! They’d never replace their top
Judge with a clone, its pure fiction!
But good fiction! This is the
kind of edgy stuff ‘Full Eagle’ should
be doing.

Well it does sound exciting kid.

The story came to me like in a
vision, y'know.

Yeah? Well Rex Reed would love to
get his teeth into something like this.
A dual role? He’ll be having visions
of golden statues. Ok, I’ll run it
by Chamberlain. He’s Judge liaison
and his word is final, you know
that. But if it flies with him? Well,
you may be onto something.

Thank you Mr. Mickles, you won’t
be sorry.

I better not be kid, or its back to
the BJs for you.


Judge CHAMBERLAIN walks in. Chief Judge
MCGRUDER is staring out the window.

I read the script George. Mr. Burphy
has a good ear for dialogue, but the
plot is a little close to home. We
have a leak?

No Ma’am. It seems Burphy is a
latent PSI. Some have visions of
the future, he has visions of the
past. Hence the sensitive details
in the script.

You don’t say? Is he in custody?

Not yet. He was tipped off by
Mickles and fled the city. We
understand he’s heading for
Mega-City Two.

Fine. We’ll get him there. After
all, he won’t see us coming.

A call comes through from CONTROL.

Chief Judge we have reports of a
situation at the West Wall.


Yes Ma’am.




Sandburn and Stomm-Castles.

'Rad Boys, Rad Boys; What you gonna do? What you gonna do, Gila Munja catch you!'

"Hey there, Drokkers! I'm 'Dangerous' Doug Doogalot and this here is Stan 'oh what a tan' Mann. Say hi, Stan."


"Always the chatty one eh, Stan! Anyways, on today's show we'll be digging around these ruins you see behind us. This was an industrial area before the 'Apox War' and we're at what used to be the 'Theresa May Wheat processing plant'... Here's an interesting fact, Stan - apparently, all of the wheat was crushed by bare footed children from the local orphanage."

"That's interesting, Doug. But not as interesting as that over there!"

"What? Good Grud, turn the Drokkin' camera around... Look at those bad boy's!"

"Dune-Sharks, Doug. Careful."

"Careful my Ring-Piece! I'm gonna catch one of these beauties!........   Ok, I've secured the harpoon gun to me belt... annnd..."


"Bang, I've got one... it's struggling. Grab my hand, Stan. This suckers trying to pull me Awaaay......."

"Can't help you, Doug! I'm left with a Dune-Shark of my own to contend with... Loading my pants with Stomm doesn't seem to be helping, either!"

/Cut to commercial.

'Come on down to McMunce's and try our new Triple Munce Melt It tastes Great!' - Da Da Dee Dee do, 'Processing it!'

'Are you looking for work? If so the 'Nigel Farage Sewer Works' wants you! We need people to help with the expansion of our company and take shit to a whole new level! Call free on 0151-Bellend'




Chuck Willigans had always dreamt that one day he would press the big red button and the screen in front of him - his screen - would turn to black. His work would be done; 50 years of watching the lives of fellow citizens, of reporting their every peccadillo to his superiors in Sector 8 PSU would be over and he could slip into a comfortable retirement. Maybe he would take up a hobby - synchronised macrame seemed popular at the moment - but more likely he would settle in front of the vid and start to watch fictional lives. He doubted it would be more exciting, and certainly not more fulfilling than the job he would be putting behind him.

When the time did come for him to leave however, things were not as he had dreamt. For a start there was the timing. He had wanted to keep going for another five years at least; time to watch the Knowles twins grow up, to see  Billiam Jenks come home from the cubes one more time and possibly even to send him back there. His body had decided otherwise though. He had noticed his failing eyesight over the last few years - a certain fuzziness around the edges, the screen brightness being nudged slowly upwards - but he had persuaded himself that he was still good at his job, that he still noticed things. Yet the figures spoke for themselves and an 8% drop in detection rates was not something that Justice Department would tolerate. Bionics had been considered but dismissed as not cost-effective and so he had been dismissed.

What had hurt him most though was the screen. He had sat in the same chair monitoring the same screen for half a century. It was his screen. Justice Department may have owned it but he had invested such time and love in the job they at least owed him the screen, didn't they? He could put it in the corner of his hab and think fondly of his job whenever he watched the soaps on it. And so he asked for permission to take his screen with him into retirement; and permission was promptly denied. They did not even allow him the closure of turning the screen off after his final shift. They just moved him aside and let his replacement have it. Where was the justice in that?

Chuck had given his life to Justice Department, yet still they treated him like this. Well somebody was going to pay. It took him a little while to plan, and he was struck several times by paranoia about the cameras that would no doubt catch him, but eventually he was ready. It was not to be a big protest but a poetic one. They had taken his screen from him, so he would smash theirs - the big one in the block lobby with its rolling reports of crime in the block and its pleas to call Judge Pal to report your neighbour. A screen for a screen. Despite the thought and the planning though it was not to be. It was a blurry-eyed Chuck Willigans who set off to the lobby and those blurry eyes did not spot Frannie Halbert from number 1423. He bumped into her as he left the el, and she wasn't about to stand for that. A cooking laser between the ribs and that was the end of Chuck. His only protest was to make a mess for the clean-up crew, but he would have been pleased that his death was reported on that screen.



Reality TV

I awoke with a start and sat bolt upright. I looked around at the popping candy rivers and dancing flouro-gnomes and I'll admit, I panicked. It took me a few seconds to realise I was still strapped into my gaming chair, gloved up and dribbling into my VR headset. I must have fell asleep playing Llamatron Empires. I'd worked a long day flipping grey burgers at Bo Shades, and I guess stirring my meds into a cool escanto hadn't helped.

Not surprisingly, I'd been logged out of the server automatically and I was facing a barrage of commercials. The flouro-gnomes had evaporated in a cloud of candy flatulance, but not before reminding me to buy some pink sugar-based stimulant, and I was now being invited to sample the reinvigorating power of Zar Lemon, a 'manly' flesh gel, whilst sharing a shower with Sharon Sharpiro from DDTV's 'Bouncy Show'. I guess the psy-patch had been leeching my sleep dreams again. I indulged myself for a bit, but she was playing coy and I quickly realised I would have to commit to buying a male grooming kit before she'd drop the towel. This wasn't going to happen; I'm not big on male grooming, as Sharon would have discovered if we'd shared that shower.

The smell of lemon was making me hungry, so I decided to log out and seek sustenance. And then it happened. In that winking moment between realities, in the crushed black of an empty simulation, I saw him. For a brief instant I saw the unmistakeable sillouette of Judge Dredd, as he appeared in the last season of Mega City One, back in the distant days of television.

It's what - fifteen years? - since the series ended on a cliffhanger. Had I quit just as a trailer for a long-awaited reboot had dropped? Had they finally made more episodes? Would we actually find out who’d eaten Fibo Scramm? Or why Hector's camp robo-butler had reprogrammed himself?

I quickly began to search in the usual places but I found nothing; only rumours and conjecture and a ghostly fan page which hadn't been updated in years. But that stance, that chin; I'd definitely seen Dredd. I reasoned that the psy-patch had discovered I was a diehard fan, and accidently resurrected a scrap of old code. The so-called 'chimaeras artefacts' that haunt the matrix since Microsoft completely broke the last update.

I felt a shiver of excitement. Maybe if enough fans subconciously willed it so, the powers that be would have no option but to recommission a new series. Afterall, as far as anyone knows, Dredd is still alive out there in the Cursed Earth. On the other hand, in this age of fractal homes and action abstractions, would a mainstream audience embrace a series set among concrete and actual weather?

Maybe not. Maybe we'll never get a fifty-third season of Mega City One, but that doesn't stop us dreaming.


Bad City Blue

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« Reply #1 on: 02 July, 2017, 08:53:37 pm »


The Meeting

Okay, people, settle down. We've got a lot to go through and not much time to do it in. Seems this Judge Dredd comic has thrown up absolutely loads of characters that could feature in the new series, and it's down to us to see what might be suitable. Derek – what's first on the agenda?

Um... that would be 'Fatties' sir.

Excuse me? Fatties? As a woman of size I think that's rather offensive!

Do calm down, Nora. It says here they're in a League, so they must be superheroes or something. Very empowering that is, plus size heroes.

Actually, John, they're not heroes. They're basically greedy bastards who eat as, well, a hobby.

A hobby? Well I can't get behind that, it creates a very negative image. Children will be using the word as an insult!

Newsflash Nora – kids already do.

You know what I mean, Henry. I don't think we should portray plus size people as a figure of fun, and that's that. It's not just me, there will be protests, mark my words.

Okay, okay, calm down. I think Nora has a pretty valid point. We live in sensitive times and I agree that we can't risk a backlash on this sort of thing. What next Derek?

Skysurfing,  Sir.

Oh yes, this is better. Lots of potential here. People zipping round the city on flying surfboards. Possible marketing if the show is a success. Are we all agreed on this one?


Yes, Nora?

Well... whilst I can see it's all very exciting, we have to look at any negative possibilities. I mean, what do we do when a kid jumps out of a window on an ironing board, trying to emulate this Chipper fellow?

We contact the Darwin Awards?

Roger! I cannot believe you said that! What I'm saying is that we would be held responsible, as in legally, as in a settlement that would make your eyes water.

Seriously, Nora, surely kids aren't that stupid.

Have you ever met one?

Hmmm.... good point. Okay, I guess the skysurfing is out. What else have we got for today?

There's was a popular character called Fergie, sir.

Oh yes, I remember him in the film. Funny chap. Surely no one's got any objections to him? Nora?

Absolutely not, sir. Why, the man who played him in the film, Rob Schneider, cleans my windows. I actually spoke to him about it when I learned we were making Mega City One, and he was very keen to reprise the role. Seems he doesn't have much on these days.

Excellent! That's settled then – no fatties, no skysurfers and Mr Schneider to return as Fergie. This is going to make us rich! By the way, has anyone got Stallone's number...?



  Death Vision.

Lights, Cameras, blood on the Production studio floor.

'Calm down people!' Bin Bowell's voice boomed over the shrieks and screams of the studio audience.' A big round of applause for,' he continued; 'erm, The Amazing Lombardo's Vibro Sword swallowing act!' Hesitant clapping followed as the unfortunate Lombardo's blood-drenched body, Vibro Sword still sticking from his mouth was unceremoniously hauled away by the studio's flunkies.

Bin hadn't become Mega Cities number one TV Entertainment host for nothing. He settled the crowd joking that Lombardo would recover, 'He's got IRON in his gut!' and Bin could feel the relief in the laughter that swept over him. Over One hundred million were watching at home Bin reminded himself as he looked at the Auto Cameras. His show had one primary asset, performers desperate to do anything for a shot at fame.

'Bring the next vict-contestant on MEGA CITY'S GOT TALENT!' roared Bin, the crowd howled, pumped the air with their fists in enthusiasm as a slim looking Nerd strode onto the freshly hosed studio floor and settled a box covered with a tarpaulin on the studio's prop desk.   

Bin felt his eyes smart as he addressed the Performer. Hadn't the next act been a woman with a tame Gila Munja? The show he knew, must go on, so 'Welcome Performer' smiled Bin 'and your name is?'

'My name is Wilfred Hump Jnr .'

'He's got the Hump!' bellowed Bin as the studio audience bayed with callous delight. Wilfred Hump coloured deeply, shuffled his feet, but Bin saw the light of hate in Wilfred's half-lidded eyes through the extra thick Plexi glasses he wore.

'I'm a physics, and Art student' explained Wilfred 'and this programme had long degraded any worthwhile talent!' 'OO-OH' cooed the public gallery. With a flourish, Wilfred whipped back the tarpaulin, and Bin felt pulled towards the object, noticed the same effect on the studio crowd. They lurched forward then back as if pushed by an invisible hand.

The machine lay glowing on the prop desk radiating power. Bin felt hooked by the device unable to tear his eyes from it. He heard his voice asking the obvious, 'What is that?' but it seemed to echo from somewhere else far away.

'It's a Neural Disruptor Transmitter.' stated Wilfred sourly. 'Once exposed the viewer has only 30 seconds to save himself otherwise the transmitted beams destroy his nervous system leading to complete traumatic brain shutdown, paralysis and death.'

Bin could see some of the audience in their seat's slump; others began to foam at the mouth, and his voice felt thick, sluggish as he stuttered his eyes darted at the live feed Auto-cameras.

'But t-that'll affect-t-.'

'Precisely.' grinned Wilfred, gloating.
'Everyone watching this programme-.'



There ya go  - vote and enjoy, proles!


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« Reply #2 on: 03 July, 2017, 08:44:28 pm »
I'll start the ball rolling, and my votes go like this

1. Bad City Blue
2. Mike D
3. Jabish


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« Reply #3 on: 03 July, 2017, 09:53:36 pm »
1.  Bad City Blue
2.  Timothy
3.  Jabish
Dumb all over, a little ugly on the side.

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« Reply #4 on: 04 July, 2017, 01:51:51 pm »
1. Heath Ackley
2. Timothy
3. Bad city blue

Good work, guys


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« Reply #5 on: 04 July, 2017, 02:41:49 pm »
1. Heath Ackley
2. Timothy
3. Eamonn Clarke

Really enjoyed these. Grand work all.

Bad City Blue

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« Reply #6 on: 05 July, 2017, 10:00:55 am »
1 - MikeD


3 - NapalmKev 2


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« Reply #7 on: 06 July, 2017, 12:25:02 pm »
1st: MIKE D - Reality TV

Good stuff, everyone. I had a stab at writing a sequel to my TV Listings from last year but I'm afraid I didn't get much further than "The One Where Joey and Chandler Accidentally Reactivate a Decommissioned ABC Robot and It Rips Their Arms and Legs Off"


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« Reply #8 on: 06 July, 2017, 06:22:08 pm »
1st - TIMOTHY - Closedown.
2nd - MIKE D - Reality TV.
3rd - EAMONN CLARKE - Mega-City Law.

This was a great month, enjoyed every one.

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« Reply #9 on: 07 July, 2017, 10:07:02 pm »

2nd: BAD CITY BLUE - The Meeting.

3rd: MIKE D - Reality TV.


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« Reply #10 on: 08 July, 2017, 07:58:04 am »



Honourable Mention - TIMOTHY
« Last Edit: 08 July, 2017, 08:00:04 am by NapalmKev »

Lobo Baggins

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« Reply #11 on: 08 July, 2017, 09:14:02 am »
1. Timothy


3. Eamonn Clarke
The wages of sin are death, but the hours are good and the perks are fantastic.


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« Reply #12 on: 08 July, 2017, 09:24:35 am »
1:Bad City Blue -The Meeting

2:Timothy- Closedown

3:HEATH C ACKLEY- Channel 2000
“You may live to see man-made horrors beyond your comprehension.”

― Nikola Tesla

Heath C Ackley

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« Reply #13 on: 09 July, 2017, 03:34:52 pm »
1) Timothy
2) MikeD
3) Jabish

Another great month for entries!
"Give a man a mask and he will give you the truth."


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« Reply #14 on: 11 July, 2017, 09:51:33 pm »
Good stuff everyone...

1)  MIKE D - Reality TV



I will return to pen something hopefully one day soon!