I'm in the process of writing the script for a feature-length machinima webseries called The Delta Vector. Sadly, because it is machinima, I likely won't be able to post it on Newgrounds, but until recently I had no idea that Newgrounds had a writing section of its forums. So I figured I could get some feedback here.
Often when I get an idea for a particular scene, I will write it in prose form before adapting it to the screenplay. I tend to think and write more coherently in that style. Without further ado, here is a short scene I wrote a few days ago, if you would be willing to give it a spot of critique:
Paul nearly collapsed as he breathed a sigh of relief, entering his workshop with a relieved slump. He set his shotgun gently on the bench, then shrugged off his body armor, dropped his gear, kicked off his boots, and popped open his canteen, guzzling greedily. Smith, still sporting his battle rattle, peered in the doorway, glimpsing at the confused mess of scribbled blueprints on every wall and half-started mechanical creations on the workbench before turning to Paul.
"How did you do that? That was incredible!"
Paul shrugged as he capped his canteen. "Let's just say it was a moment of accidental brilliance, like my conception."
"What if it blew up? Weren't you afraid at all?"
Paul turned to Smith. "Of course not."
Smith furrowed his brow and leaned forward. "Of course not? You just picked up a dud mortar, reset it, and punted it at the enemy, while under fire. And it worked. Any reasonable person would have soiled themselves. I know I would've."
Paul laughed. "Well, I've never been mistaken for being reasonable. You want to know why I wasn't afraid? You ready? Explosions fear me. All of them."
Smith made a face. "They what?"
"Call it karma, dumb luck, or the hand of God, whatever. You fear what you can't kill, and explosions can't kill me. "
Paul began pacing the floor. "So, no shit, there I was with my buddy Steven. The summer before middle school. We were pouring gasoline down one of those manhole covers and then dropping matches in after. We tried a few sips of gas at a time, but nothing was happening, so we decided to empty the whole can and see what would happen. We drop in a few matches, still nothing. But suddenly, we heard a big WHOOSHFYUU and this jet of flame reaches up 20 feet in the air! I could have been killed, but luckily I was only blown backward about 10 feet and landed like a gymnast. The manhole cover finally came down all the way down the street. It must have landed 50 feet away. Steven was worried about me at first, but when he saw me laughing my ass off, we both had fun. Only for a little while, though, because it turned out we blew up every toilet on the street and had to pay everyone back. The important thing is, I decided that day that I wasn't going to take anything from explosions. My formative mind decreed they were going to learn that they slap like a bitch and I kick like a mule."
Paul spread his hands out. "15 years later, here I am, with 214 successful disposals under my belt, fighting the good fight against the GC with you groovy, happening bunch of guys. And/or gals."
Smith awkwardly fumbled with his hands. "Okay, Uh.. I'm not sure what to-"
Paul took a moment to clear his throat. "Smith, what makes the world go 'round?"
Smith gave an uneasy glance at the clock on the wall. "Uh, gravitational forces?"
Paul gazed skyward. "Made possible only by the Sun, an immense ball of never-ending holy-what-the-mother-f-bomb phantasmic explosive glory that holds this whole world together and bestows upon it the very sustenance of all life. Besides water, of course. But even the Sun is but a faint, dying echo of the means by which all life was birthed. One day, God pondered upon his lofty plans for the entirety of existence, and could think of no better way to begin it than by an explosion so awe-inspiringly awesome that he called it 'very good'. And that is the very same force that tries its damnedest, but cannot kill me, no matter what. To be assaulted with such furious power of destruction and creation that has echoed since the beginning of time and to emerge untouched, ready to harness the same energy to destroy your foes - that, my friend, is fearlessness. That, is power."
Smith took a moment to recover. "All for nothing if you get shot."
Paul snickered and waved him off. "Bullets? A small slug of metal carried along on the shoulders of none other than a controlled explosion. A weak one, at that. I'll give them points for creativity, but they still fail."
Smith thought a bit, then retorted, "How about knives? What if you got stabbed?"
Paul did a double-take and shuffled backwards, reflexively touching his shotgun to make sure it was there. He sheepishly looked down.
"Well... even Achilles had his heel."
You can find more information about The Delta Vector by visiting www.facebook.com/TheDeltaVector and www.YouTube.com/user/rollingbarrelfilms.