Well… Hello there.
Yeah, this is harder than I thought. Very well, I can always just delete this and forget I ever did something like this.
Ahem.
Hello people! I am skyripper, but you can call me by my nickname, Rapha. I’ve been a lurker here for quite sometime and only now decided to create an account, yey!(?). And to, apparently, try my hand on a game. It’s a tentative one, and I hope you guys have some patience with me for:
a) english is not my native language; in fact, i learnt what I know all by myself, so some more complex grammatical errors are bound to occur. Do help me out if you can, Grammatical Hunter, I would be very grateful indeed.
b) i am a writer, not a coder. I am h o r r i b l e with anything that resembles codes or computer, and the proof for that was when a friend of mine told me to take care with my address on the internet, i answered saying i never put my street name on it. So it may some time until i figure this thing out, and… yeah…
The plot, which is what really matters:
It passes on a fictional little town by the name of Havenfall, where nothing ever happens. If you want to see a new movie in a real cinema and not a drive-in or enjoy the wonder of a mall, you need to wait for the only bus in the single bus stop of the city or drive for at least two and a half hours to reach the next town. The closest you can get to McDonald’s or Subway is Grandma Faustina’s snack bar.
Nothing ever happened in Havenfall, and children always played on the street all day, parents worked and teenagers rebelled for a short time.
Until the day something happened, shaking the whole little town.
Your murder.
Aaaand that’s it. I plan on doing something on so you’re the narrating, still kinda stuck on earth, and following along a childhood friend, Cecile, to uncover your mystery. Something a bit… PLL? I woukd say Riverdale too, but… it’s a bit more dark, I hope.
Also, in lack of a demo, I decided to preview the prologue:
It’s faint at first.
There’s an odd sensation, like I’m drifting on open ocean, limbs and hair stretched out. I try to open up my eyes, expecting a baby blue sky, but I’m meet with a painfully white ceiling. It seems I’m situated at a bed, for I am surrounded by pale yellow walls and there’s a TV right in front of me.
There’s a quiet sob, and I know where I am.
I am dead.
Yes, dead. I’m not sure how I ever came to this conclusion, but… it’s confusing here - wherever here is. If there’s an Heaven or Hell, I’m in neither of them, because I am currently sitting on a bed. Well, not quite sitting, you see, but - it’s really confusing. I am not there or here, I… I am. I am dead, for no one can see me but I can see them - but there are times it feels like not. I don’t own a body anymore, but sometimes it’s like i can feel the breeze leaving my hair askew and the sun burning my skin. I can’t remember the color of my locks or even my pigmentation. But I do remember how it feels to be touched, kissed; I remember how certain words whispered against my ear would make goosebumps erupt on my skin, my stomach dance. I remember them like whispers; like how a cook would remember to wash their hands, subconsciously.
I don’t remember my death.
At least, I didn’t. Until the moment I caught myself staring at this white ceiling, someone sobbing quietly by my side. It felt like waking up after quite sometime, an odd dream lingering on my sleep-hazed mind.
The sobbing comes from a girl laying down on the bed. She had short and black hair, dark brown eyes shining wet with unsheathed tears, and a picture trembled in her fingers. In it, besides herself, there was another person taller than her, smiling at the camera with brimming happiness.
That person was me. The girl was my best friend, Cecile, Cecu for short, and uneasy thoughts clouded her mind like everyone’s wjo ever passed by a grieving like that ever did. That I wasn’t dead; that I ran away, maybe; and she herself thought this was a stupid idea, but that it wasn’t an accident.
Then it clicked.
For all the stupid it sounded on her head, she was right (it was horrible, now I know, even if in foggy whispers).
I was murdered.
Obviously there’s gonna be more… well… choices. But this only the base for me, and to show you guys my writing, to see if anyone feels interested.
So. Yup.
02/10/2017
Heya! Hello there folks, I’ve been fooling around and frowning a lot with choicescript, but it’s going well enough that I daresay that a demo with the prologue and chapter one shall be up in about a week! Yey! (?)
Until then, I’ve put together of the all the principal characters, the ones somehow involved in the mystery of your murder. I planed to do some kind of illustration of them, a banner or an aesthetic and even (god forbid me of ever trying this out) even drawing them. But yeeeeaah, my only somewhat talent is writing. So, there is the character entries:
Character Entry
CECILE BENNET
AGE: 17.
GENDER: FEMALE, BINARY.
SEXUALITY: BISEXUAL.
SIGN: LEO.
APPEARANCE: BLACK HAIR CUT SHORT, SHOULDER-LENGHT WISE. ASYMMETRIC FACE, DARK BROWN EYES UNDER ARCHED EYEBROWS. TIPPED NOSE. HOURGLASS BODY. DRESSES QUITE LAVISHLY AND PEPPY, ALTHOUGH NORMALLY IN DARK TONES.
QUIRKS: BASKS IN THE COLD. RUNS ON CAFFEINE. STRANGE FASCINATION FOR BUTTERFLIES AND THEIR SPIRITUAL MEANINGS. CHEWS ON NAILS.
CLYDE CARTER
AGE: 18.
GENDER: MALE, BINARY.
SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL.
SIGN: TAURUS.
APPEARANCE: DARK BROWN HAIR, A MESS OF CURLS. STRONG FACED, SHARP JAWLINE. WARM SMILE. EXPRESSIVE BROWN EYES. TANNED SKIN. MUSCULAR BUILD, BROAD-SHOULDERED. LIKES SIMPLE AND COMFORTABLE ATTIRES THAT DON’T REALLY SUIT HIS BUILD. SWEATERS, BAGGY JEANS, THE SAME PAIR OF RUNNING SHOES, LONG-SLEEVED SHIRTS. LIGHT TONES.
QUIRKS: STUBBORN. LIKES TO SEE THE BEST SIDE RATHER THAN FOCUSING ON THE BAD. WEARS READING GLASSES. WOULD ADOPT THREE DOGS AND SIX CATS. MAYBE A PLANT TOO.
SASCHA YUGOSLAV
AGE: 17.
GENDER: MALE, NON-BINARY (DOESN’T CARE FOR PRONOUNS).
SEXUALITY: BISSEXUAL.
SIGN: AQUARIUM.
APPEARANCE: TALL, STANDING AT 1,80CM. GRACEFUL BUILD, LONG FINGERS. MEDIUM-LENGHT HAIR AND BLACK CURLS, AMBER EYES. PALE SKIN. SOMEWHAT ANDROGYNOUS FACE. LIKES TO DRESS IN TRENCH COATS AND JEANS, AND IS ALMOST ALWAYS SEEN WITH HIS LEATHER GLOVES AND GREY SCARF. NEUTRAL TONES.
QUIRKS: DETESTS THE COLD. ENJOYS ACOUSTIC SONGS. CAT-PERSON. STOIC, ALTHOUGH KIND-HEARTED. DOESN’T LIKE TO BE TOUCHED. LOVES A GOOD BREWED TEA. STILL HOLDS HIS RUSSIAN ACCENT.
LEONA DIMARZI
AGE: 18.
GENDER: FEMALE, BINARY.
SEXUALITY: HOMOSEXUAL.
SIGN: CAPRICORN.
APPEARANCE: SHORT. LITHE BUILD. DARK BROWN AFRO WITH AN UNDERCUT. DARK-GREEN EYES. MOCHA SKIN. GOLD PIERCING ON LEFT NOSTRIL, SEVERAL ON EARS. SIMPLE, ROCKER CLOTHES. RIPPED JEANS. RANDOM T-SHIRT. DENIM JACKET. DARK TONES.
QUIRKS: ADORES BLUES. DEVOURS BOOKS. LOVES DOCUMENTARIES. ACIDIC HUMOR. LAID-BACK CHILD. ZERO CONTROL OF FACE EXPRESSIONS. SILENTLY JUDGES EVERYONES. VERY POSSIBLE EVERYONE’S CRUSH. BARELY SHOWS UP AT SCHOOL, MANAGES TO GET THE BEST GRADES. SMOKES.
can I?
!
) 
) – but it does feel to me like this story would be better as a non-interactive story, at least as currently set out.