Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

A bit of advice: you should post all the chapters of this story on your original Newgrounds Arena thread. I wouldn't make a new thread for every new chapter you submit. The only reason I'm saying this is becaus the thread title says "chapter one". Also, it's really just a way we all can be a little more courteous to the site by reducing the server space we take up. I'm sorry if I'm sounding annoying with this suggestion of mine. Now that I've made it, I'm going to read this story and the next time you hear from me, I'll be giving feedback.

This section of the forum invites any and all forms of writing, so that includes stories. I myself am in the middle of writing (and now illustrating) a rather lengthy tribute story to Newgounds. I might be interested in reading your story. I myself have never played skyrim, but I'd give a fanfiction a read if it only required a minimal amount of research.

Congradulations on your first post and welcome to the Newgrounds forums. May your experience here with other the other members be a pleasant and welcoming one.

I want to share my vision of Cybercity Newgrounds with the rest of you. I feel it would aid any of my readers in "seeing" the story if they had an idea of what the city looked like. I spent many hours recently creating the basic layout of the residential and heavy industry level. There are no buildings in the pic, but I think it's worthwhile seeing the city without them because when they get added alot of the ground details will be covered up. I'll post a smaller version below. For a closer look, here's a link. If it doesn't work you can access it from my user page. I have yet to be scouted. What do you guys think?

lol messed up the link. Maybe this one works: Link

Geez how am I gonna start this? Hello NGPD. A few weeks ago I start coming back Newgrounds full time. It was only a short while later that I found out about this group, and after doing a little research, I knew that I wanted in. It was to attain this goal that I started posting on the forums to reach the minimum limit (I'm not there yet, but I will be someday soon). It was also for this goal that I started writing ">Cybercity Newgrounds: A Cop's Tale so that I might display my interest. Sadly I did eventually learn that the NGPD has been more or less abandoned, but my determination has not wavered. I have neither the free time nor the will to pull this group out of limbo, but I would like to join while I'm still able to. I have temporarily stopped judging new flashes so that I might experience that much longer a time on the force before I'm discharged. And so I come to the ultimate question: Is this aspiration of mine too lofty? Should I just head straight for the Elite Guard because I've so badly missed this train? Or will these ghostly headquarters accept a new soul, a new face, even if membership is only honorary and limited to this thread? Whatever the answer, I await a response with calm demeanor.

At 2/17/13 02:23 PM, Wegra wrote: Are there any users on here who had experience in working with the police or who want to become a cop?

If you are asking if I have an interest in joining the now-abandoned NGPD, all I can say is HELL YES! I don't have the time nor the will to pull it from the grave, but I do want to join it before I rank too high. It's for this reason that I've temporarily halted judging new flashes until I have the sufficient number of forum posts (50 decent posts minimum) to apply. It's one of those things where I want to say that I was part of it while I still can. I have such an interest in the NGPD that I've even started writing a fiction about it which anyone interested can find here. Who knows, maybe the ripples I cause now will oneday become a wave of interest back toward the NGPD!

At 2/16/13 03:46 PM, Tomster1000 wrote: So I thought it was just one post. I'll read it again and PM you the whole review, otherwise I'd be spamming the whole thread full with one post, haha.

Great! I look forward to hearing from you again.

In response to Tomster1000:

After reading your review it would seem as if you only read the very last of the four posts that make up the story. The post you were focusing on could itself be considered the conclusion to my much larger story. I emplore you to read the whole thing as much of what you've brought up can be answered. Also, I try to make an underlying truth in my story fairly obvious without explicitly stating it outright. I would be overjoyed if my readers figured it out.

This doesn't seem to be a story as much as it seems like a vivid desription of a place through its personal effects on the narrator. Maybe it's just me but I think a story needs to have something happen. Now I do believe this prose could greatly enhance a larger work (where things happen) if you use it right.

Please delete the other version of this post that has formatting issues.

"Haven't told John this yet," the bartender addressed Julia, "but the bar's gonna be closed next Saturday. Take'n the wife out fer annivers'ry and I couldn't find a replacement."

"Sounds romantic Chuck. Where're you two going?"

"Some fancy-schmancy place I can't pronounce. That good-for-nothing man of yours told her 'bout it, and I already know it's gonna put me out another hundred."

"Oh he's not so bad," she playfully said while glancing at the now fully asleep John. "It's probably some place he's brought me to before. If it's for me, he doesn't give a higher price a second thought. He must do it to remind me how much I matter to him. I'll never need another reminder though, after all, he turned down the career opportunity of a lifetime and came back from the verge of death just to stay with me." The storm outside slowed to a light drizzle. "After proving how much he truly cares about me, all I could do was welcome him back with open arms when he returned home from the greatest blunder of his life."

When she finished, Chuck and Julia were greeted by an absence of pattering on the roof. "I guess it's time to get going," she said turning to her husband. "Johnny, wake up. The stormâEUTMs over." The balding old man lifted his head from the bar.

"What is the damage Chuck?" he asked groggily.

"Next time old friend, get some sleep." John merely nodded as he put on his coat and hat. He offered his arm to his wife.

"Goodnight Chuck," called Julia as they walked away.

"G'night." The old couple exited the bar leaving Chuck to be the only one left.

"What were you dreaming about?" asked Julia.

"My past."

End

*I've been working with this story on and off for the past couple days. Though writing got tedious at times, I think I have ultimately grown as a writer from this new experience. Other than the prompts for this contest, this story is entirely original. Though I can't help but feel there are similar works out there by already established authors. I hope you all enjoyed the story. I'd love to read any comments on this work in the discussion thread

âEUoeHavenâEUTMt told John this yet,âEU the bartender addressed Julia, âEUoebut the barâEUTMs gonna be closed next Saturday. TakeâEUTMn the wife out fer anniversâEUTMry and I couldnâEUTMt find a replacement.âEU

âEUoeSounds romantic Chuck. WhereâEUTMre you two going?âEU

âEUoeSome fancy-schmancy place I canâEUTMt pronounce. That good-for-nothing man of yours told her âEU~bout it, and I already know itâEUTMs gonna put me out another hundred.âEU

âEUoeOh heâEUTMs not so bad,âEU she playfully said while glancing at the now fully asleep John. âEUoeItâEUTMs probably some place heâEUTMs brought me to before. If itâEUTMs for me, he doesnâEUTMt give a higher price a second thought. He must do it to remind me how much I matter to him. IâEUTMll never need another reminder though, after all, he turned down the career opportunity of a lifetime and came back from the verge of death just to stay with me.âEU The storm outside slowed to a light drizzle. âEUoeAfter proving how much he truly cares about me, all I could do was welcome him back with open arms when he returned home from the greatest blunder of his life.âEU

When she finished, Chuck and Julia were greeted by an absence of pattering on the roof. âEUoeI guess itâEUTMs time to get going,âEU she said turning to her husband. âEUoeJohnny, wake up. The stormâEUTMs over.âEU The balding old man lifted his head from the bar.

âEUoeWhat is the damage Chuck?âEU he asked groggily.

âEUoeNext time old friend, get some sleep.âEU John merely nodded as he put on his coat and hat. He offered his arm to his wife.

âEUoeGoodnight Chuck,âEU called Julia as they walked away.

âEUoeGâEUTMnight.âEU The old couple exited the bar leaving Chuck to be the only one left.

âEUoeWhat were you dreaming about?âEU asked Julia.

âEUoeMy past.âEU

End

*I've been working with this story on and off for the past couple days. Though writing got tedious at times, I think I have ultimately grown from this new experience. Other than the prompts for this contest, this story is entirely original. Though I can't help but feel there are similar works out there by already established authors. I hope you all enjoyed the story. I'd love to read any comments on this work in the discussion thread

"Who are you calling 'old'? I am still in my swinging fifties." He refilled his glass from the glass jug on the table. "I suppose I could spin a tale or two. I just have to wet the tongue first." He took a rather generous swig of scotch.

"My relationship with my spouse had grown pretty heated sometime in my forties. We went to counseling and the therapist suggested that we spend a period apart from each other. She was unsure, but I embraced the idea. At the time I felt a need to make up for what I thought was an unfulfilled past. So I flew to Vegas with a group of my buddies. It did not take long after hitting the casinos for all of them to realize something about me that I did not know myself: I had a gambling problem. As I invested more and more money into the hope of a payout, they pulled further and further from me. I guess it was either out of fear of being associated with my debts, or fear that I would start asking for handouts. I kept withdrawing more and more money from my accounts, always finding new optimism every time I stepped into one of those damned casinos. It was only a matter of days before I emptied out both my savings and checking accounts and even then I did not wise up. I sold my plane ticket home, and soon that cash was gone too, leaving me without a practical way out of Vegas."

"Jesus," said the man in the middle. "Some friends they were, abandoning you like that." He paused. "You could have called someone."

"I was far too ashamed to ask for help getting out the hole I dug myself into. I spent my next few days in Vegas outdoors. And I was so afraid of what could happen if I fell asleep that I stayed awake for the first two days. In that time I do not believe I went five minutes without reflecting on my decisions. But by the third day my sleep deprivation started causing hallucinations, so I found refuge sleeping in a cardboard box in a vacant alley. It was the first time in my life that my spirit was so broken that I could actually empathize with the homeless. By the third night I had had enough of Vegas and just started walking in the direction of home, not even caring how far it was. I got through several miles on the interstate before I hitched my first ride. He did not take me very far though, maybe twenty-five miles to a rest area before his exit. In total I hitched five rides on my way back home, and when I was not riding, I was either walking or sleeping off-road, unless it rained, in which case I kept walking."

"When I left for Vegas I had an unhealthy body fat percentage, but I ate nothing for my entire journey home. By the time I made it back to town I had lost over fifteen pounds. In the beginning I was racked with hunger pains, but those subsided when I began steadily burning fat. I arrived at my doorstep a disheveled mess racked with pneumonia. My wife gasped when she first saw me. I must have nearly looked like a different person. I fell to my knees and cried bitter unmanly tears as I told her what happened. I desperately apologized for everything I put her through and begged her to take me back. She did not give me any of the folded arms or acting distant business. She literally dragged me inside as we hugged for the first time in a long while. She made all the pain go away, and we have had only minor problems ever since."

"Well done my friend," spoke the youth. "If that story ever made it onto the big screen, it would be a real tear-jerker." The middle man silently nodded in agreement.

"Have either of you noticed yet?" asked the older man. His companions looked at him confused. "Since we started talking, we have yet to finish this round of Poker."

(continued)

"Yeah I got one," spoke the man in his mid-thirties for the first time. "But do not expect to laugh. Back in my mid-twenties I had a brush with death so close that I should not have lived. It was on a day of weather not unlike today. The only difference was an unceasing torrent of lightning and thunder. The river of Richtale had reached a dangerous level, and I was one of many volunteers working to reinforce the dam. I was apart from the main group when it happened. Despite the incredibly low odds, it happened. The only way I can describe the experience is that for an instant I felt the touch of God Himself, and my heart nearly burst from my chest. The last thing I remember before everything went black was the taste of metal"

"In all the years that we have known each other," the older man spoke up, "never once did you share with me that you survived a lightning strike."

"There is more to my story," continued the man in the middle. "After seeing my steaming body on the ground they called for an ambulance and tried to resuscitate me. Now, I was told that I remained in a comatose state for about a week, but believe me, that week felt like an eternity. During my time in the unconscious realm I experienced things that go way beyond schizophrenia. I could never describe everything, but I will give a few examples. I remember being forcefully fed every candy bar I ever stole from any convenient store. Chocolate was shoved down my throat one after another. Through my tears I watched my stomach bulge to ridiculous proportions before the skin split and my entrails spilled out. I remember standing in my old backyard looking up at my tree house when the tree became a demon of a thousand gnarled arms. I stood paralyzed with fear as the demon lifted the tree house even higher before slamming it down upon me, crushing my bones in brutal agony. I remember the severed heads of my family dancing around me, chanting 'we know, now repay' in unison. Arms reached out of the ground and immobilized me. I tried fighting them off but I could not escape. The heads drew closer all saying 'you took our bodies, we take yours.' They all sunk their teeth into me and began tearing away my flesh."

His companions sat there with eyes like dish plates.

"For the most part it was all pretty nonsensical. I will never forget what happened last. The Grim Reaper himself came into being before me. Before I even had a chance to run, he placed a hand on my shoulder and I appeared at a fork in the road with two women identical to the one my wife standing at the split. They spoke to me in perfect harmony.

'Greetings, it would seem you have reached the end of your road. There are now two paths to take. One leads to eternal salvation, the other leads to eternal damnation. You may ask us each one question to determine your path. But beware, one of us is your love who will tell the truth, while the other is a doppelganger who tells only lies.'

Fortunately for me, I was familiar with this logic puzzle, and I posed my hypothetical: 'If asked if you were my wife, what would you say?' The left said 'yes,' the right said 'no.' I held out my palm into which formed a pistol with a single round, and I shot the right one in the head.

'The fake is dead, but now you are lost,' said my wife. 'I cannot answer another question, and you do not know the way.'

'Of course I do,' I told her. 'I knew from the beginning. It does not matter where either path goes because they both lead to death. I am not ready to die yet. You still need me alive and I need you with me.'

'Then come back.' She disappeared along with the fork and my road extended into a blinding light. I walked into the light and woke up in the hospital to the sound of my wife pleading for me to 'come back.'"

"You tell a rather compelling tale," said the youth. "Gruesome, but compelling." He finished his cigarette and jammed it into his tray. "Alright old man, your turn."

(continued)

Reminiscence (brief mature content warning)

A stormy night had fallen upon the town of Richtale. The rain was pouring hard enough to strand the patrons at one of the town's less popular bars. Tonight there remained very few customers. An elderly married couple sat at the bar while three men of noticeably younger ages sat at a nearby booth. The old man was nodding off with a drink in his hand while his wife conversed with the bartender. The three men nearby were playing cards while they smoked the same brand of cigarettes and sipped the same scotch.

"I've heard this storm's gonna be a laster," said the bartender. "Sorry ya gotta stay so late Julia."

"Oh that's alright," she responded. "I haven't seen you for so long. It'll be nice catching up."

The youngest of the three men, probably in his early twenties, had been tuned in to their conversation. "Looks like we are going to be here a while," he said breaking the silence between his companions.

The man across from him, a gentleman probably in his fifties, finished his cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke as he jammed the smoldering filter into his ash tray. "The tv reception has gone out. Either of you two got a good story?" he suggested.

"I guess I could ramble a bit," said the youngster before he took a swig of scotch. "I remember a few years ago back when I was doing standup as a hobby. I would perform at the comedy clubs here and in the three neighboring towns. I had this knack for being able to come up with new jokes and humorous stories, and I was smart enough to always keep my venues in rotation. One of my favorite bits was a reenacted conversation with my friend. Somehow the subject had switched to our sex lives.

'You and your girl still going hot and heavy?' I asked.

'Yeah, except two weeks ago she got a little too into it and hurt me with her teeth,' he told me. 'We have not had any more sex since then.' I couldn't resist the urge to act stupid.

'Why does your girl have teeth in her vag?' I asked."

All three of the intoxicated men burst into laughter at the immature joke. "I was not expecting that," said the man across from him as he tried to regain composure.

"That is only one of my best jokes," the youth began again. "And here comes another one. I remember watching an advertisement for Dr. Scholls gel insoles and was inspired to create a commentary. Every dude in the commercial who was allegedly using this product had a mild manner that was so unfazed by external stimuli that I swear you could ram a rod up their asses and they wouldn't bat an eye." He paused and waited for a break in the laughter. "Then one of them said something that made me question if the script was proof-read. When asked if he was gel'n, he said 'I am gel'n like a felon.' I doubt it crossed any of their minds that they were likening his state of mind to that of someone convicted of a felony, who is most certainly not gel'n. Because if you are 'gel'n like a felon,' you must be pretty proud of the crap you pulled to still be gel'n behind bars."

His companions lost control and began struggling get in enough air. "Oh Lord," the older man finally got out. "I am surprised you are not off making a living doing this."

"To be honest, a comedy scout once offered to sign me on with a comedy group he was compiling. They were there with him, and they swore that they never laughed as much as they did during the time they were together. It was a tantalizing offer, but I ultimately turned it down."

"Why did you do that?"

"I would have had to move to Hollywood, but the girl I was dating could not move away from here. My time with her meant more to me than a profession in comedy and I honestly believe I made the right choice." He reached into one of his jacket's inner pockets and produced a small box which he opened to reveal a diamond ring. He flashed it a bit before replacing the box back in his jacket.

"Sweet. What about you?" the older man asked the man in the middle. "You got a story for us?"

(continued)

Happy Valentine's Day Newgrounds members and staff. On this day, may everyone either draw closer to our loved ones, or find the strength to continue on alone and happy. Isn't it great to have options ;)

At 2/14/13 06:45 PM, Toogorax wrote: I made up the word "muguficus" by deriving it from the word "mugufin" which is defined as a ridiculous goal/object to drive the plot. I'll be sure to go back and enphasise as to what it actually looks like, but i really wanted to keep everything a mystery from the reader so they could be free to interprate what the muguficus looks like and so fourth. Vanhiest is the name of the brothers after many generations, their last name is Vanhiestenal, but their first decendant is called Hiest as it was his alias. thanks for the feedback though! :)

Okay I gotcha! Looking forward to your next update.

Lol, Heist's mentioning of "terms and conditions" reminds me of the Steve Jobs episode of South Park where Kyle unknowingly agrees to become part of the Human Centipad because he doesn't read the Terms and Conditions when updating his subscription to Apple.

Well I had been thinking that "heist" would be part of the boy's last name. But hey, at least I helped solve your problem. YAY! Just curious, do your characters have last names, or is this story entirely on first name basis?

I have one critique: perhaps explain what a muguficus is through a physical description. That way I wouldn't have felt the need to google the term (which yielded nothing by the way lol) or keep wondering what it was. Other than that, a solid work aside from the forementioned "mustatioed man" critique.

. . .

In the west import yard's surveillance room two portal security guards were busy chatting and neglecting their screens. This was noticed by the man who walked by their open door. He entered intent on banging some heads (metaphorically speaking). The two members of security snapped out of their laugh upon recognizing who he was. If orange skin, hair, and human-fox hybrid ears didn't immediately define him, his uniform sure as hell did the job.

"Director Prower, what a surprise!" one said as they stood to salute.

"No, it really isn't." the uniformed man responded through his calm facade. Unit Ops. Director T. Prower was performing his annual check-in on the NGPD branches. He was second in command only to the aging Commissioner Crawford, and thusly garnered much respect.

"Perhaps one of you could enlighten me as to what topic is so important that it supersedes maintaining vigilance over the yards." Both sets of eyes looked at the floor. "I'm waiting," he continued rhetorically. But upon hearing himself say this, he felt like a hypocrite. During his time in lower ranks Prower hated being talked to the way he was now addressing these guards.

"God the pressure of evals must be getting to me," he muttered. âEUoeLook fellas,âEU he addressed the pair again. "I apologize, my reaction was unwarranted. I know how tedious this job can get. Years ago I was doing this myself. But it is imperative that we never relax in the yard's security. If anyone ever found a way through the network of cameras and eyes, it is vital that we catch them the first- what the hell was that?" On one of the screens behind the guards, Prower had witnessed some abnormal movement. He pushed past them and began working with a keyboard. He pulled up the playback options and backed up the recording to the point of interest. He began the playback and watched as an unknown person ducked out from under storage tank row R and sprinted into hiding under row S in just under 3 seconds. Logan had been caught by one of two cameras he never could have seen from the outside.

"Well this is interesting," Prower began evilly. "It must have been quite the conversation for you both to allow this person to slip through the complex right under your noses."

Fearing their jobs were at stake, one of the guards found the courage to speak up. "Director Prower, it is not what you think. I admit we were neglecting the screens with our talk, but we only started doing so one minute ago. Our entire shift prior, we watched the screens and never saw him."

"Is that so?" Prower returned the screen to watch mode. "That would mean this trespasser knows the position of nearly every camera out there." The three of them watched the next screen as Logan made his way into an off-camera hiding spot between two closely placed storage tanks in row T.

"He has a pack," observed the silent guard. "He may have stolen something. I'll alert the inspectors."

"Hang on." Prower grabbed the guard's wrist as he reached for the radio. "I want to see how he does." Several minutes went by without a sight of Logan.

"I know this is obvious sir, but we've lost all sight of the trespasser. He could be anywhere"

"This guy is something else." Prower wore a toothy grin. "He's heading north and judging by his progression rate, I estimate him to be at row W now. I'll send out the alert myself."

Prower held the radio to his mouth. "This is Unit Ops. Dir. Prower. We have a bogie of unknown location heading north. Yard forces, be ready to receive the bogie beyond row Z but keep yourselves unseen. Over."

END CHAPTER 2

comments desired.

*Sorry this update took so long. It was only just yesterday that I got more of the medication that helps me think better. Also I was having problems with the amount of characters. After cutting some content, it told me that I still had like 22 characters remaining. But when I tried submit, I kept getting a message saying that I had exceeded the length. So I settled for dividing the chapter into two submissions. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I would love to read any feedback. The next one might also be a while cause I got paper due dates coming up.

Cybercity Newgrounds: A Cop's Tale

Spotted

First he pushed his pack through the hole, then he army crawled through himself. He donned the pack and began to stealth his way through the invisible maze laid out before his mind's eye. He was determined not to let the cameras catch even a foot. The next twenty minutes were filled with hugging along import tank walls, crawling under bases that supported the tanks, and sprinting to the next hiding spot behind turned backs. Thank goodness the ground was almost completely void of loose rocks. The entire time his heart raced and his senses were heightened to impressive levels. What a thrill!

Logan was halfway through the yard when his plan hit a snag. While hiding under a support base, an inspector was standing with her back against a tank one row over. She was facing his direction having a cigarette. A number of distasteful words voiced in his head. This woman was supposed to be evaluating that tank with her back to him. He wouldn't be able to move until she did so. And if she didn't do it soon, he would have to backtrack and take a different route beforeâEU¦ too late. Another inspector showed up and began working on the row of tanks behind him effectively boxing Logan in. He was trapped. He'd lost his opportunity to progress on either his primary or secondary path and was now unsure of what course of action to take. But it was for this reason that Logan brought his plans. However it was too dark for him to read the paper, and he couldn't use the flashlight as the shine under the tank would probably be visible to the inspectors. As he was mentally experimenting with ways to limit the light's shine, an irregularity in the texture of the tank's bottom caught his eye. He squinted up at it and realized that it was a hatch (most likely for an emergency). He crawled to it praying it wouldn't be rusty or stuck. To Logan's relief the handle slid out quietly. He eased the hatch door down and slid himself up into the tank's pitch dark interior making almost no sound at all.

He turned on his flashlight to get a sense of his surroundings; any stray objects could be a tripping hazard. The tank was only half filled with assorted crates so there was room to move around. He pulled out the papers and laid them atop a crate, but after a few moments' consideration, Logan decided this to be an ample opportunity to "secure" a memento. He fished the crowbar from his pack and eyed the crates. The lids of all the large ones were secured via padlock but the smaller ones were nailed shut. He proceeded to pry the lid off the smallest container and was eventually greeted with the sight of half a dozen bottles of very high-end liquor. Had Logan been stealing with plans of reselling his bounty, he might have been interested in the beverages. Only able to see the tops, he questioned their size with interest. He pushed his hand down through the hay that cushioned the bottles from each other. He reached the bottom, but instead of feeling the wood of the crate, he felt plastic. It shifted around and felt flat in his grip. He pulled it out and shined his light to it. It was a perfectly forged NGPD ID card. The face didn't look too trust worthy though (an ironic thought coming from someone in his position). Logan was no detective, but he could still deduce that if this was hiding in a crate in an import tank, it probably wasn't legal and therefore wouldn't be missed by the city if it disappeared. He reached back in and found several more. When he was sure there were no more, he replaced the hay to make the crate look undisturbed. He closed the lid and used his body weight to push the nails back into their holes. After putting a total of ten cards into his bag, he returned to his maps and plans.

A few minutes later Logan checked his watch. In just a short while his tank was scheduled to be assessed. If he went back to hiding under the support base the moment the inspector opened and entered the tank, he'd have the perfect opportunity to begin his escape to the other end of the yard.

Logan crouched in wait by the emergency hatch. He couldn't lock it from the inside so he had to hold it closed. His cover would be blown if the inspector decided to glance under the tank before assessing its contents. His watch read "1:45am" when he first heard the footsteps. A moment later, as the bars began shifting on the tank's doors, Logan slid himself out the bottom and locked the hatch door back in place. He watched the feet step up into the tank and then he made his move.

(continued)

If you alter your personal work according to the desires of others, then it really isn't your work anymore now is it. My parents often told me when I was a child that the opinion about my interests matters most is my own.

At 2/8/13 01:59 PM, silverspecks wrote:

At 2/7/13 10:40 PM, CaptainCornhole wrote: I would read it if you make me lead character. loljk A minor cameo would be great.

I'm surprised I didn't see your post. I'd be willing to do a cameo, but perhaps you could give me a different name to use. No offense, but "Cornhole" would sound like an impossibly silly last name.

Maybe a female name that fits your user icon. She looks like she would fit right in at cybercity Newgrounds.

At 2/7/13 10:40 PM, CaptainCornhole wrote: I would read it if you make me lead character. loljk A minor cameo would be great.

I'm surprised I didn't see your post. I'd be willing to do a cameo, but perhaps you could give me a different name to use. No offense, but "Cornhole" would sound like an impossibly silly last name.

Here's what I like to do when finding characters' last names

1) Determine either a character's personality/ profession or skillset/ unique physical quality.

2) Find a word that describes any of these.

3a) Google surnames associated with this word.

3b) Work with the word itself to make it sound like a surname.
Someone recently wanted a name for a thief. I looked up synonyms for "thief" and was attracted to "heist". I then turned it into "Vanheist." It was pretty easy, and I'll be damned if the author didn't love it. :)

At 2/8/13 12:07 AM, KnightOnTheSun wrote: Go for it; they're pretty good games. The newest one, Deus Ex: Human Revolution, has a yellowish tint to the whole game which is what I picture the Newgrounds city looking like. Cool stuff, dude.

Maybe I should make an illustration of cybercity Newgrounds. I've never done a cityscape before, but it might be fun. Of course that's less time I'd be spending on the story.

At 2/7/13 10:43 PM, KnightOnTheSun wrote: I like it. The main character is cool and Newgrounds as a city works well, now that you have it in writing. It reminds me of Deus Ex and Blade Runner.

A job well done, sir! Proceed with chapter 2!

Lol J-Rex said my story sounded like a mix of Deus Ex and Mafia II. Maybe I should consider playing Deus Ex.

At 2/7/13 09:49 PM, Toogorax wrote: I was actually planning on having a little bit of magic incoprerated into the story, the gloves holding the souls of the master thieves who owned them

Having thought about this for a bit, there are a few questions I'd like to raise/ things I'd like to bring up.
1st, if the gloves hold the souls of past theif owners, the older brother's soul probably isn't included since he had to be alive to gift them to his sibling lol.
2nd, it might make more sense for the gloves to posess the skills of past owners instead of their souls. Because of the logic brought up in my first point, there just seems to be an issue as to how the next guy/girl down the line acquires the gloves from the previous dead owner... unless of course... GRAVE ROBBING HAHA! or a Will would work too I suppose.

At 2/7/13 08:15 PM, KnightOnTheSun wrote:

Thanks! I've been here for years but decided I wanted a new name. Looking forward to the first instalment.

Oh alright, I gotcha. Well it's here, u must've just missed it. I look forward to hearing your feedback.

Cybercity Newgrounds: A Cop's Tale

Delinquent Days

It was a splendid day in the cybermetropolis Newgrounds for the day's expected proceedings. A man patiently sat in the waiting room of Police Headquarters collecting his thoughts. His long awaited day had finally arrived. Today would be a landmark achievement of his noble career. For years Police Captain Logan Valor had dutifully served the Newgrounds Police Department (NGPD) in the ongoing mission to regulate Portal flow and maintain public safety. Born and raised in West District, he naturally began his time in the force serving the west branch. Over the course of his career he had acquired so much favorable attention that he was offered a position in Central after his promotion to "Captain", which he readily accepted.

Logan hadn't been able to sleep the night before. The news of his ascension today had excited him beyond the possibility of rest. Needless to say, he was quite drowsy as he now sat in a comfortable chair in the quiet room. He began reminiscing about his past history with the NGPD and soon his own thoughts lulled him into a sleep.

. . .

It was twelve o'clock in the morning and a rebellious Logan Valor was out and up to no good as usual. He enjoyed the risk and rush from the possibility of getting caught in the illegal acts that had become his pastime. Though it hadn't happened yet, on this side of the city, most cops and civilians alike knew he was a troublemaker. Fed up with the restrictions of learning institutions, he dropped out of high school and became a street-roaming punk. To keep his parents in the dark, he would still leave in the morning and burn any letters sent home from school. For a while it worked. Occasionally while wandering the streets, Logan would come across someone in need of odd-job service. He would always accept the work to pocket money for feeding himself. He knew his parents would eventually find out what he'd done, and he felt less guilty about his decision knowing that his mom and dad weren't working to feed a failure son. Though most people of West Newgrounds didn't hold Logan in very high esteem, the few for whom he did favors maintained the opinion that he was a good kid at heart.

Tonight Logan was going to sneak into the West Import Yard. This was his boldest move yet. While he could face penalties of curfew violation for walking the streets at night at his age, the amount of street patrol was always sparse in comparison to the amount of patrol in the import yards. This place was so vital to Newgrounds that the city could not afford negligence in its security or import examination, though try as city officials might, there always seemed to be an imbalance in the police force between the five districts. Though Logan didn't know it, the west and south districts were lacking in enforcement.

He had grown tired of graffiti, hopping roofs, and secretly trespassing onto private property to bask in the ineffectiveness of one or two security guards. Logan wanted a challenge, a real test of stealth to reignite the rush that made him feel alive. He would attempt to get from one end of the massive yard (in which the combination of eyes and video cameras left very few blind spots) to the other and possibly steal something along the way to serve as a trophy for a successful conquest.

Earlier that day he had done what recon was possible. From outside the ten foot high chain link fence (crowned by three rows of barbed wire) that marked the facility's perimeter, Logan managed to locate every visible video camera using his grandfather's old binoculars from his days in the Elite Guard, and mapped them out accordingly. He spent the rest of the daylight patiently noting several patterns: paths taken by police inspectors, times between shift changes in portal security and which certified import tanks were replaced with new tanks and when. He spent the final hours going over his notes and maps, and determined that the cycles he had observed for the twenty-four hour import yard should all resynchronize with completion around 12am and so that would be the ideal time to make his move. Logan also realized that, despite the several opportunities presented by standing structures to hop the fence, there was nowhere he could do so without great risk of being seen. So he resolved to cut the fence, and when midnight rolled around, he did just that in two spots hidden from cameras and eyes.

It never occurred to Logan that for his simple trespassing adventure, he had put in the amount of planning needed to work a heist. Unexpectedly, the planning had turned out to be quite an enjoyable part of the experience. He derived pleasure from knowing that all of his efforts would pay off in his success.

He crouched into position at the hidden hole in the fence as his digital watched closed in on 12am. With him he had his backpack void of everything except his plans, maps, and a flashlight. Should anything unexpected come up, having these would allow Logan makeshift a backup plan if he found a safe place to stay for a prolonged period of time. He also took with him a crowbar

Beep. Time to begin.

END CHAPTER 1

comments desired.

*Hopefully all the formatting issues that occured when I transfered the text here from word have been fixed. It's gonna suck if I have to deal with that every time I want to make an entry this way. I anyone knows a way around this problem, I'm all ears.*

Cybercity Newgrounds: A Cop's Tale

Delinquent Days

It was a splendid day in the cybermetropolis Newgrounds for the day's expected proceedings. A man patiently sat in the waiting room of Police Headquarters collecting his thoughts. His long awaited day had finally arrived. Today would be a landmark achievement of his noble career. For years Police Captain Logan Valor had dutifully served the Newgrounds Police Department (NGPD) in the ongoing mission to regulate Portal flow and maintain public safety. Born and raised in West District, he naturally began his time in the force serving the west branch. Over the course of his career he had acquired so much favorable attention that he was offered a position in Central after his promotion to âEUoeCaptainâEU, which he readily accepted.

Logan hadnâEUTMt been able to sleep the night before. The news of his ascension today had excited him beyond the possibility of rest. Needless to say, he was quite drowsy as he now sat in a comfortable chair in the quiet room. He began reminiscing about his past history with the NGPD and soon his own thoughts lulled him into a sleep.

. . .

It was twelve oâEUTMclock in the morning and a rebellious Logan Valor was out and up to no good as usual. He enjoyed the risk and rush from the possibility of getting caught in the illegal acts that had become his pastime. Though it hadnâEUTMt happened yet, on this side of the city, most cops and civilians alike knew he was a troublemaker. Fed up with the restrictions of learning institutions, he dropped out of high school and became a street-roaming punk. To keep his parents in the dark, he would still leave in the morning and burn any letters sent home from school. For a while it worked. Occasionally while wandering the streets, Logan would come across someone in need of odd-job service. He would always accept the work to pocket money for feeding himself. He knew his parents would eventually find out what heâEUTMd done, and he felt less guilty about his decision knowing that his mom and dad werenâEUTMt working to feed a failure son. Though most people of West Newgrounds didnâEUTMt hold Logan in very high esteem, the few for whom he did favors maintained the opinion that he was a good kid at heart.

Tonight Logan was going to sneak into the West Import Yard. This was his boldest move yet. While he could face penalties of curfew violation for walking the streets at night at his age, the amount of street patrol was always sparse in comparison to the amount of patrol in the import yards. This place was so vital to Newgrounds that the city could not afford negligence in its security or import examination, though try as city officials might, there always seemed to be an imbalance in the police force between the five districts. Though Logan didnâEUTMt know it, the west and south districts were lacking in enforcement.

He had grown tired of graffiti, hopping roofs, and secretly trespassing onto private property to bask in the ineffectiveness of one or two security guards. Logan wanted a challenge, a real test of stealth to reignite the rush that made him feel alive. He would attempt to get from one end of the massive yard (in which the combination of eyes and video cameras left very few blind spots) to the other and possibly steal something along the way to serve as a trophy for a successful conquest.

Earlier that day he had done what recon was possible. From outside the ten foot high chain link fence (crowned by three rows of barbed wire) that marked the facilityâEUTMs perimeter, Logan managed to locate every visible video camera using his grandfatherâEUTMs old binoculars from his days in the Elite Guard, and mapped them out accordingly. He spent the rest of the daylight patiently noting several patterns: paths taken by police inspectors, times between shift changes in portal security and which certified import tanks were replaced with new tanks and when. He spent the final hours going over his notes and maps, and determined that the cycles he had observed for the twenty-four hour import yard should all resynchronize with completion around 12am and so that would be the ideal time to make his move. Logan also realized that, despite the several opportunities presented by standing structures to hop the fence, there was nowhere he could do so without great risk of being seen. So he resolved to cut the fence, and when midnight rolled around, he did just that in two spots hidden from cameras and eyes.

It never occurred to Logan that for his simple trespassing adventure, he had put in the amount of planning needed to work a heist. Unexpectedly, the planning had turned out to be quite an enjoyable part of the experience. He derived pleasure from knowing that all of his efforts would pay off in his success.

He crouched into position at the hidden hole in the fence as his digital watched closed in on 12am. With him he had his backpack void of everything except his plans, maps, and a flashlight. Should anything unexpected come up, having these would allow Logan makeshift a backup plan if he found a safe place to stay for a prolonged period of time. He also took with him a crowbar

Beep. Time to begin.

END CHAPTER 1

comments desired.

At 2/7/13 07:17 PM, KnightOnTheSun wrote: It is a very good concept. Write it, I'm getting antsy.

)

I appreciate your enthusiasm. Alright, magic number 3 has been reached. The first installment will be here shortly. Oh and welcome to Newgrounds!