Hey guys, girls, sentient planetoids and literary sludge compositions, this is my first time sliding my moist buttocks off the precipice and starting down the deep dark spiral that is 2000AD foruming. I've just begun my journey into the surefire financial success story that is comic writing and where better to begin than in the fine company of you creative geniuses that I have so long admired from afar. I dunno what is deemed appropriate for posting on here especially with scripts that have already been sent to the almighty Tharg but I wanted to post a little bit of my work on here to get a some varied and more expedient feedback and maybe find some like minded freaks to connect with over our shared unhealthy passions. So without further ado is the first page from my very first completed script that was sent to the sludge pile a few weeks ago. I've got a few more on the burners at the moment as well so if the collective would like I'll have more incoming for your critical eyes.
So here for your scrutiny and pleasure is the first page of my first work. Double You: A Hundred Hurts. Thanks for checking it out and may Tharg have mercy on your hides.
PAGE ONE
1) Two bustling streams of interstellar traffic flow in opposite directions, parting in the
middle around a planet sized Shopping Superstation. The Superstation is covered in
alien logos, parking signs and advertisements such as a billboard for "DermaDuo:
Say Hello to Your Second Skin" that shows a reptilian model peeling off her scales to
reveal perfectly smooth skin.
VOICE 1:
Did you have any preferences on cognitive and motor development?
VOICE 2:
No
VOICE 1:
What about memory or recognition?
VOICE 2:
No.
2) Establishing Shot of the shop front of MEPLICATE PLUS. The store has a 21st
century aesthetic with minimalist, clinical design. The prominent logo shows two
matching faces silhouetted against each other, forming a shape reminiscent of an
apple. This all juxtaposes heavily with the shops on either side which have much more
alien looks to them. Leaving the store are two mirror image women strolling hand in
hand and staring lovingly into each others eyes alongside a row of confused, samefaced
slaves all bound by heavy laser shackles and being led out by a master whose
visage is hidden behind a veil. Loitering off to the side are a handful of rag-tag
protesters of mixed species smoking and holding signs like "One of Me is Bad
Enough", "My Clone Took My Job" and "God Hates Clones".
VOICE 1:
Did you have any special needs or requests with your order?
VOICE 2:
No.
3) At the check-out counter we see a customer wearing the kinds of clothes that
scream of an effort to be inconspicuous. Opposite him is the customer servant; a tall,
graceful looking alien dressed in company garb that has a quasi-religious look to it.
She stands with a tablet in her hand which she pokes at with a quill.
CUSTOMER SERVANT:
In that case would you be interested in our Cottonbud Combo today? It's our most
affordable and inhibited custom package.
CUSTOMER:
Cottonbud?
4) Close up of the servant and her professional, gleaming smile.
CUSTOMER SERVANT:
They grow quickly, stay soft and are good for harvesting.
CUSTOMER:
That will do just fine.
5) The customer remains blank faced. The customer servant indicates to a machine
next to them that looks much like a photo booth but with a dizzying array of tubes and
gizmos running from the back of it up to the ceiling.
CUSTOMER SERVANT:
Great! Now if you'll step over to the MEreader we'll be all set to process your order at
the wombporium. Then in ten minutes take your craft to collection bay 237 for pick up.
6) The customer sits on a bench in the middle of the food court eating an ice-cream,
his hand wrapped in a bloody bandage.
CAPTION:
"Thank you and have a nice day."
To be continued...
I figure I'll throw in the full synopsis as well for a bit of context...
At a modest shopping superstation that floats amongst the tide of an intersolar freeway the new craze has landed. Affordable, low resource, while-you-wait cloning has become the highest selling product in every sector from Gomorrah 4 to Teflon Gamma, thanks in no small part to humanitarian policies on replicated persons being virtually non-existent. To say this has had an unprecedented effect on stellar statistics would be a gross understatement; S.D Class crimes (sado-destructive) have dropped 6 million units in the last cycle, same cell relationships (as their commonly called) are up to a staggering 150.000 to every billion, unemployment is at its highest since the Great Disintegration and the Norvokian Slave Trade has become all but obsolete. And it's stores such as this superstation's MEPLICATE PLUS where this revolution is taking place, one discount hyperspurned stem cell at a time.
At the store entrance usual sights are on display, excited new lovers leaving hand in hand alongside laserbound chain gangs while a smattering of dispossessed protesters loiter to the side. Inside an unassuming customer stands at the counter while the Alvarian customer servant runs through the standard product options. After the questions are all asked and answered with "no" the order is marked as a "Cottonbud Combo" and sent to the Wombporium for construction. The servant offers thanks and tells the customer to take his craft around to collection bay 237 in ten minutes to pick up his new purchase. He goes and passes the time with an ice cream.
Meanwhile in the Wombporium life is born. A fledgling organism is digitally stimulated into full maturity and consciousness breaks into new life, life that feels like a large room with only a tiny light on. Two teenage clonery clerks march in, hose the new product down, brush him off, stamp his model number on his arm and dress him in the company logo. Job done. Outside in the collection bay the customer sits in his Astrocruiser as the clerks load the merchandise from a sack truck into the side seat. The customer offers a wry, callous smile to his acquisition who smiles back unreservedly then goes on to stare out the window, awing at the open expanses of space for the first time as it flies by.
Product #3501-K (limited warranty) is then introduced to his new home, a shiny plastic cell occupied only by a handful of mangled corpses. Then as quickly as it all began a new world of pain and torture is introduced and life for the clone becomes that of a living plaything locked in a polyethylene nightmare. Then one night the clone catches a face reflecting at him in a pool of blood, a face that inspires something in his dim little mind, something bright and uncontrollable. Understanding sparks into being and what was once an impression of helpless inferiority becomes one of dangerous equality. But once the torture ends and freedom begins what's a store bought being to do that knows nothing but violence?
Sorry sir I haven't read either the script or the synopsis BUT you have a better chance of gettin' some feedback (and stuff printed by crikey) in the teeming and varied small press scene:
http://futurequakepress.blogspot.co.uk/ Futurequake
http://disconnectedpress.wordpress.com/ Disconnected Press
http://thepsychedelicjournal.blogspot.co.uk/ The Psychedelic Journal of Time Travel
https://www.facebook.com/biodegradablecomic?fref=ts 100% Biodegradable
http://paragoncomic.blogspot.co.uk/ Paragon
etc etc there are tons of them out there - scouring a convention exhibitor list is another way of rooting them out as well.
In fact - mods should not a guide for where to send scripts be a stickied topic? I know it would change a lot but it'd be good for folk coming here and wanting feedback on scripts and just having that awful awful silence face them which is never fun!
Thanks for the info buddy. Oh and hey if this is Owen from PJTM I think we have a mutual friend in Rob CD over here in Glastonbury ways. He told me about you and your book and said he would send some of my work over to you sometime which I'll most likely do myself very soon anyway. Cheers again for helping out though the silence is a bit of a torture.