Cutting them in half does sound easier yes. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that 
. It’s such an obvious solution lol. Thanks!
Hopefully that’ll ease my nerves a bit.
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Dun dun duun~
“Well,” one of the agents drawled, “that’s why we’re here.”
“Ah—” Agent Wright sputtered, more an involuntary sound than a word, and made a helpless, hopeless gesture to stop the other agent from speaking. It didn’t work.
“To pick up your slack,” the other agent continued. “Since you small-town cops balk at the first sign of a dead body.”
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i love vscode for this, because it has an outline which you can scroll through on the side to fly to wherever you need in the code (without having to either ctrl-F exact labels, or scroll and pray). and you can click to close or expand the outline, too, so you can either have it show all the sub-content (like the options in each choice) or none of it. writing in vscode (with the ChoiceScript language plugin) is like fucking magic.
small example of the outline from my current chapter:
this has me cracking up LMAOOOO aw i love it
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Ooh, looks nice
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OHMYGOSH! Why have you kept this from me for so long 
This is soooo much easier!!! I just might switch to vscode.
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AHAHAH i’m sorry for only mentioning it now!!! it’s really really nice. you can pick what color scheme ur writing page and stuff is, too. i spent a full week trying out different color schemes until finding my fav one, hahaha!
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Keogh doesn’t.
I can’t believe I’m at 1.5k in this scene and it’s still underway. Looks like it’ll be one of my longer chapters.
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I hate scrolling through massive sections of text to find events and variables. It gets more confusing for me if several paths share the same file. However, if paths converge again later, you end up having to check several different files, which can lead to further confusion and difficulty in tracking the relevant events and variables associated with each path.
Saying this, my scene files are long, maybe averaging 50k+; a few are more than 100k. In the future, I will try to divide projects with an eye to how it helps organise my thoughts further along in the development process.
@raywilson Sold. I think I might give vscode a try next time. Just reading what you say about it eases my scrolling anxiety.
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I deeply enjoyed the visceral level of your prose. I think back fondly reading it (which I still need to finish my review oh no!).
I also tend to go for more of an approachable prose (a prose that’s easy to ready) and not all that lyrical. And yet, my output is still painfully… painfully slow, too.
I also feel the pressure to write more and quickly. I think that your prose has a refreshing quality to it that will easily make it a cult classic.
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Everyone - Defs give it a try!
Apart from the the choice script extension and outliner, as mentioned by @raywilson - there’s also formatting shortcuts, you can connect it with github for easy access and progress tracking across multiple devices, run/ test the game in-app easily, and most important to me: Spell checker extension x’D
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I couldn’t imagine cranking out 50k on average then having to go through it all again.
I’ve set a mental note to not pass 20k in any chapter I write because ever since I did one with 90k I’ve been having nightmares 
. Beta testing nightmares…
Errors kept coming in like Darksied’s parademons and they’re hella hard to find. I’m pretty sure there’s at least one or two more hiding in there. My apologies to the Hoted Games team….
It’s like getting asked if you wanna get hit by a bus or a truck. They’re both gonna hurt.
I already installed it from last night 
. So far I gotta say I’m pretty darn impressed 
.
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Does anyone else get weirdly impatient when they’re working on longer branching parts of a chapter? I’m writing each the various school Society scenes for my Chapter 3 of Pactbinder, and even though I’m enjoying the scenes themselves, part of me is weirdly desperate to keep progressing with the story. It feels oddly like I’m in a time loop replaying the same weekend in-universe (which in a sense I guess I am…) rather than getting on with the show!
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All the time! Bringing other branches up to speed with the most advanced one leaves me simmering in anxiety as thoughts and memories slip away. 
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My plan to combat this is to write one version of the chapter, then go back in a few weeks later to add branches and the code. Maybe this is a bad idea, but I’m going to give it a shot
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I have the precise opposite problem, being primarily an IF writer. Linear fiction just feels like it goes too damn fast. I’m used to the idea of doing the next chapter in a month, not in three days!
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Haha, that’s really funny to hear - that’s definitely precisely the opposite of the issue I have! I think for me a big part of it is that I’m so keen to get to the big splashy stuff that I really need to force myself to stay disciplined and focus on building the atmosphere and establishing the status quo of the story’s world before I start lobbing real stones at it…
Linear writing definitely makes for more immediate gratification in that sense, though it does feel more satisfying when I do get to one of the scenes I’m really looking forward to. Almost like I’m rewarding myself for the rest of the writing!
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I write whichever scene is on my mind most, and then fill in the gaps (also hoping that I come up with something that lets me make interesting scenes instead of boring scenes of the ones I’m leaving for later).
(That’s why I have scenes titled by descriptors instead of numbers. I flat-out don’t know where they go in, yet.)
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We need to sculpt our stories with whatever tools we can forge with time and imagination and, on a wing and a prayer, hope they all work out. Truly, I believe there is no magic solution, but by doing it enough, we can, sort of, figure out what works for each of us. Building the trunk and sticking on the branches and leaves later might just work!
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There’s few things that make me feel like a “real” writer, like just smashing out my day’s word target without stopping, but today I got to do my favourite - which is googling weird things that look suspicious in isolation.
I spent some time reading about interrogation techniques today, as I tried to decide on how I want a scene to be carried out - I’m trying for a setting where the idealists have been in charge for a long time, so the more extreme options just… don’t exist in the world as written right now.
I ended up just going with a bog standard choice between asking nicely or asking aggressively, but then I realised I’d missed a key part - we never read this prisoner his rights! So I’ve had to invent a section for that, which I’d appreciate it if people had time to provide some feedback on if they’ve got the time 
. I’m aiming for the tone of the “you have the right to remain silent” sort of speech.
The yapping in question
“Before we begin,” you begin formally, “my name is Agent $!{mcSurname}, of the Federal Marshals. I must inform you, that in accordance with the Basic Law of the Republic, and the Alpha-Centauri Regulations for Questioning, that you are being formally interviewed under suspicion at the scene of a crime or crimes in violation of both Planetary and Federal law.”
The well-rehearsed phrases roll off your tongue as you advise the prisoner of the situation and of his rights.
“You will receive a further interview with the the authorities of this star system, but as one of the arresting officers or agents, I am exercising my right to interview you at the scene. I must warn you that you are not presently entitled to legal representation, but you also do not have to answer any question posed to you,” you watch his reaction to that carefully, spotting no indication that he’s really processing what you’ve said so far. “This interview is being recorded, and copies may be made available to both your legal representation, and the appointed prosecution. Any information or answers you provide may be entered into evidence against you. Do you understand what is happening, and your rights as presented?”
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I was organizing some project files, and I have to say I love these characters.
Contains random banter and light technobabble.
You manage to limp to Zero-Zero-Aurum, a Navy base at the edge of the Wastelands on a moon so insignificant it wasn’t even named before the base was built there (or if it was, the name has been long since lost). And since there’s no other settlement there, the moon is called by the name of the base. Who decided on that name, though, is anyone’s guess.
Well, the vibrant purple gas giant the moon is orbiting might make a decent tourist attraction, too. At least scientist are crawling all over the place, both trying to figure out what causes its colour and researching its ecosystem, gas whales and skywyrms and whatnot. But military bases do not a popular tourist attraction make, so it’s mostly safe from nosy people. Which, probably, is a good thing, for the ecosystem if nothing else.
You are not here for gas giants, however. After the whole ship got disabled in the depth of space, Lieutenant Commander Moreau gave you an official sanction to investigate the aliens, since they now are clearly a threat to Producer. For that goal, you’re now meeting up with Ekström and Connor. When you arrive, you see that Vega has also tagged along.
“Ekström, Connor,” you nod a greeting. “Vega.”
"You’re probably wondering – " Connor says.
“I’ve been running the numbers,” Vega disrupts him. “There’s something familiar in them.”
“I thought you’re a medical officer,” you say.
“So is Connor,” Vega says.
“I have specialized in cybernetics,” Connor says. “I mean, I’m not disagreeing.”
“And I have a degree in xenotech, in addition to a medical one. Well, xenobiotech,” Vega says. “Those things are not mutually exclusive. I’m certainly old enough.”
“That reminds me,” you say. “How old are you? I’ve seen your military photos, you haven’t visibly aged a day during your whole career, even though it’s been decades.”
“I admit I’ve lost count,” Vega says. “And not only because there was a time I was drifting in space for the Dragon knows how long. A couple hundred years?”
“I’m guessing your kind is longer-lived than humans,” Connor says.
Vega nods. “My packfolk can live for several hundreds, at least. I’m not actually sure how long, I don’t remember hearing anyone dying of old age instead of some kind of scuffle. But it does make spaceflight so much easier, doesn’t it?”
“Doesn’t protect you from getting bored, I’d wager,” Ekström says.
“True,” Vega admits. “But hibernating helps with that.”
“That’s… I’d love to run some tests on your biology,” Connor says.
“You and everyone else and their dogs,” Vega says. “But I think my test subject days are behind me. I’m sure you understand. It’s nothing personal against you.”
The four of you start walking forward. Aurum isn’t one of your typical port cities, which means it is very lacking on the usual attractions (sans the bar: isolated military bases can’t run without a bar), but that also means you’re not at a risk of getting mugged, either. Troublemakers would find themselves behind the bars before they could say “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious”.
Not that you’d think you would have much trouble dispatching any would-be muggers between the four of you. Even Connor, who is a doctor, has undergone the usual combat training and is under the obligation to keep his skills up.
“Anyway,” Vega says. “This may actually overlap with xenobiology.”
“I still think it sounds unbelievable,” Ekström says.
“More things in heaven and Earth, Horatio,” Vega says.
“What are you talking about?” you ask.
“Like I said,” Vega says, scratching their underchin, “I ran the numbers. And some extra tests. I think that whatever that weapon was, it’s partially biological.”
“A living weapon?”
“Not… exactly. It has biological parts, but it’s definitely constructed.”
“How can you tell?”
“There’s residue that resembles such left behind by the psychic ablilities of my packfolk.” Vega is silent for a moment, as you pass a crowd. “But also mechanical residue.”
“Why didn’t the lab find this?”
“They didn’t know what to look for, I’d wager. My people have experience with this.”
“Your psychic ablilities?” Connor asks. “One would certainly hope so.”
“They mean space monsters,” Ekström says.
“It’s not a cetus,” Vega says in a defensive tone. “I know that. And I’m not claiming it’s one, I’m not stupid. But the ships of my packfolk have gathered residues like that from time to time, and they are partially biological, although there’s variation – it’s not always identical.”
Right. Ceti. The living constructs that roam the deep space between galaxies. Well, allegedly. They are quite universally considered cryptids. “So what’s causing it?” you ask.
“I don’t know,” Vega admits. “No one does. All I know for sure is that it comes somewhere from the deep space. Apparently it is some kind of a weapon, though, given how we got the readings.”
Your discussion is interrupted by a man suddenly standing in your way, intently blocking your path. He’s not wearing the same uniform he did the last time you saw him, so it takes you a moment to recognize who he is, but soon you realize it’s the same agent who had ambushed you earlier. What did Sterling call him? Hagelstad?
“Lieutenants,” he nods.
“Agent,” you respond.
“Do you have anything new for me?” he asks, foregoing any pleasantries.
“Not really,” you say.
“So you haven’t seen him?” he asks.
“Seen who?” Connor asks.
“Sterling,” you say.
“Oh, so that’s the guy,” Ekström says. “Good to know.”
Vega says nothing, but their nose twitches the same way Leif’s does when he’s caught a scent.
“To answer to your question, agent,” you say. “I did, in fact, see him.”
“Wait, you did?” Ekström says, surprised.
“And you didn’t think to call me?” the agent asks.
“It seemed unnecessary.” You shrug. “Special Agent Guld seemed to have things well in hand.”
“Wait, you saw Guld?” Connor asks.
The agent pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of freaking course.”
“Sorry,” you say. But that’s a lie, you’re not sorry at all.
“Where did this happen?” he asks.
“Bluegrass,” you say. “But it was when we were there, and that was a good while ago. I doubt he’s still in there, he doesn’t seem the type to stick in one location for too long.”
“You would be right about that,” Hagelstad mutters. “Well, I better be off.” And just like that, he turns around and walks away.
“So that happened,” Vega says, tilting their head like a curious cat.
“I wonder how he found you,” Ekström says.
“Telepathy?” Connor says.
“I didn’t get that feel of him.”
“IFF,” Vega states with certainty. “He’s tracking your transponder.”
"That’s – " Connor says.
“Likely,” Ekström finishes.
“Stellar,” you mutter.
“Screech,” Vega says.
“What?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t translate well.”
You shake your head. “Well, we can’t worry about that now,” you say, although you start a background process to run a diagnostic on your cranial, just in case. It’s not likely that Intelligence would have installed malware instead of just tracking the signal, but it wasn’t impossible.
One by one, you start walking forward again.
“Vega,” you say after a moment. “Do you know how we can protect ourselves from that weapon?”
Vega thinks about that for a moment, then shakes their head. “We… can’t.”
“There must be something!”
“Not that I know of. Well, apart from staying out of its way.”
“That’s… not encouraging,” Ekström says. “I doubt the Captain intentionally seeked it for the last time, and they still shot us.”
“Well, yes,” Vega says. “I’m not saying it’s impossible to protect ourselves, mind you. But I’m not aware of the method to do so.”
“If that’s so,” Connor says, “how have your people survived?”
“The same way yours did what you call the Collapse,” Vega responds. “By living far and wide. Besides, it’s not like they hunt for us, we encounter them only when we veer into their territory.”
“If that is so,” Ekström says, “isn’t it strange for us to encounter this one here?”
“Verily,” Vega says.
“Did you ever find anything from the click, Ekström?” you ask. “You did visit them when we first encountered that ship, didn’t you? But you never told what you found.”
“That’s because I found nothing,” Ekström says. “They were quite as helpful as usual.”
Which means unhelpful. Damn.
“I have an idea,” Connor says. “Let’s get to the lab.”
“What, why?” Ekström asks, giving him a confused look. “What good would that do? Our science lab already investigated the data.”
“Producer has a well-equipped lab,” Connor admits. “Well, labs. But it’s still a field lab that needs to be constantly moved from one place to another, although admittedly the fact that it’s packed on a ship eases that somewhat. But, Aurum has science stations fully equipped to research the strange ecosystems on that charming gas giant.”
“And if that blast is biological…” you say.
“Yes,” Connor confirms.
“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Vega says, althought they look doubtful (although thinking that something would be helpful and thinking that something isn’t harmful are not the same thing, so maybe it isn’t that strange after all).
“Let’s do that,” you decide.
The scientist are surprised to see you when you appear in their lab, but they are by no means averse to helping you, when you explain them what you need from them. In fact, they seem more than a little thrilled. Maybe they’re just bored to analyze same kinds of samples all the time. Or maybe they’re thrilled about the idea of scientific discoveries that resemble nothing humanity’s science has never seen? You wouldn’t put it past some scientists you know.
Whatever the reason, they whirr up the machines and feed them the data Vega and Ekström provide them. There’s not much you can do – you’re not a scientist, and even if you were, you would never impose yourself on someone else’s lab – so you just stand in place and look around. There’s a lot of typing, pressing buttons, blinking lights, mumbled numbers, and, all in all, feverish enthusiasm going on all the round.
Connor leans on to better see the scan results on the spectrometer screen.
“Where did you say this is from?” one of the scientists ask.
“Some kind of weapon blast,” Vega says, casually leaning on a large structure that seems like it should be located in a server farm, complete with blinking lights and humming of coolers.
“What kind of weapon?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Ekström says.
“Well, that, and how to protect the ship from it,” you say.
“That’s… strange,” a tall scientist says. “This makes no sense.”
“Try the channel five,” Vega says. “Increase the curve by 5.7 points.”
“Five?” a short scientist says. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
"What are you – " Connor says, then, when the new results appear on screen, “oh. Oh.”
“This is wild,” a scientist with a big hat says.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” one with riding boots agrees.
“What?” you ask, understanding nothing about the buzz. “What did you find?”
“Nothing!” exclaims the scientist who spoke first. “That’s what is so exciting! I wish I could write an article about this phenomenon.”
“Sorry,” Ekström says. “You can’t. It’s all very hush-hush.”
“I know. But one can dream.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is why I hate scientists.”
“Now you sound like Kozlov,” Connor says.
“Relax, Repo,” Vega says. “It could be much worse.” Then they perk up and point something at one of the screens. “There! Can you isolate that?”
“I can try,” the scientist says.
“Did you get something?” you ask, wishing to get out of here to somewhere where people make sense (although on second thought, you’re not sure where that could even be, if you’re being honest with yourself. Certainly not on Producer).
“If we can counter this,” Vega says, “I think we’re in business. Easier said than done, of course.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the scientist with the hat says.
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