To sim or not to sim?

[genlisae]

There is this thing where the "what if's" go around and around in my head, usually as not much more than a dull roar in the background. What if this character had said this instead of that? What if over here this happened? And off they go playing out in detail somewhere on the edge of my consciousness. Every so often one of them will come to the forefront of my thoughts and I will scribble them down for further thinking about later. Sometimes though; this happens:

It all started simply enough. Someone, somewhere stopped for just a moment and looked at the world.  He looked around him and he saw it. He saw what had been right in front of his eyes all along, but on that day, in that moment, he saw it for what it really was and he perceived a threat.
 
It scared him, this vision of his world unraveling. He was no one of consequence. History would never remember his name or even the moment when this one person, otherwise unremarkable, would change everything.

What the history books will tell us is what happened next. Whispers around the water cooler – It’s coming. Murmured in dark corners – It’s here.  Anxious words exchanged in back rooms – We have to stop it. In the places of power where the laws are written it echoed – Control.

The first steps were small. Like a child learning to walk the steady progress is hardly noted, seen only as more of the same. The steps grow bolder, more certain. Until one day they are spurred to run.
 
 And then all Hell broke loose.

* * *

Now when I come to putting visualizations to this, I realize I have watched way too many movies and read far too many books in which the world finds itself in a police state, heavy military control, etc, etc. Being as this is merely the setup though, I am not that concerned about it. What happens next only borrows slightly from other things and goes much more into exploring the psychology behind what causes otherwise good people to commit horrible acts. Where I start to trip up is on how to present it.

My urge is to sim. I feel comfortable with the images telling part of the story. It is the style I have grown accustomed to and often when I write just text anymore it feels hollow and empty, lacking the spark and "bringing to life" I have grown accustomed to. I expect this is an issue with simply my writing as when I read other simply text works the issue is not there.

At this point Mathew tells me the problem is I should be writing screenplays. He may be correct in that.Why? Because what my writing actually looks like in it's raw form is this:

(man, business dress type, shirt and tie? In a standard office cubical, looks up as co-workers pass by, some are alien and they are smiling and joking with each other)

It all started simply enough. Someone, somewhere stopped for just a moment and looked at the world.

 
(man looks across the office, there are an equal mix of humans and aliens all going about their work day. Outside the office window is a street and a similar mix of humans and aliens are passing by.)

He looked around him and he saw it. He saw what had been right in front of his eyes all along, but on that day, in that moment, he saw it for what it really was and he perceived a threat.

 
(he stares at one particularly innocent looking group of aliens, his face registers fear)

It scared him, this vision of his world unraveling. He was no one of consequence. History would never remember his name or even the moment when this one person, otherwise unremarkable, would change everything.

(group of previously seen office workers and perhaps the man from earlier standing around a water cooler, they look suspiciously at an alien co-worker as he passes)

 What the history books will tell us is what happened next. Whispers around the water cooler – It’s coming.

(group of men, some from the earlier office scene, others with various other ‘visible professions’, think ‘the guys hanging out after work type scenario, all middle working class glance up with a mix of suspicion and hatred as a similar group of alien men enter the bar)

Murmured in dark corners – It’s here.

(higher calibre of business men, perhaps some ‘mobster’ looking types with associated thugs. Tailored suits, briefcases etc around a table in a dark room with a single light above them, perhaps a warehouse, these are the ‘back room’ dealers.)

Anxious words exchanged in back rooms – We have to stop it.

(Senate or UN hearing type setting, long tables with microphones and name plates set before each person, large television screen and perhaps a central table where an impassioned speaker is presenting their case:

"They abduct us, good human men, and they violate our bodies against our will, impregnating us with their spawn! And what do we do about it? Nothing. We welcome these spawn into our society, accept them to live among us. Unchecked. Unhindered. We make them feel at home! I ask is this the sane thing to do? Is this the safe thing to do? We know what the originators are capable of; forcing us to bear their young with acts of kidnapping, rape and torture. What about the offspring? What are they capable of?")

In the places of power where the laws are written it echoed – Control.

 
(poster on the side of a building proclaiming the ‘benefits of being a registered alien’ and ‘for the greater good’.)

The first steps were small.

 
(New poster, perhaps a billboard as well this time declaring an “alien curfew”. Increased police presence is also visible. Aliens are visibly not pleased, walking away in disgust and mistrust, now whispering among themselves and shooting suspicious glances toward the humans.)

Like a child learning to walk the steady progress is hardly noted, seen only as more of the same.

(Police line blocking a mob of alien protesters)

The steps grow bolder, more certain.

 
(one of the aliens steps forward, he has a Molotov cocktail)

Until one day they are spurred to run.

 

(Now a full scale riot, police are barely holding the line if not outright retreating. People and buildings and cars are burning, things are being smashed all over, former protest signposts used as clubs as one group of aliens surrounds a downed officer. In the distance military vehicles can be seen approaching, on the other side more aliens are arriving, these ones have guns)

And then all Hell broke loose.

* * *

The visualizations are there even in the draft stages, perhaps explaining why I have never been terribly good, in my opinion, at setting the visual stage in the readers mind with prose. I write it all out this way first and then go back through the excruciating process of fleshing out the details in the writing to convey what is in the parenthetical notes.

Efficient? Not even remotely. Thus why sims stories (or graphic novels which I would never have the ambition to pull off, and really, is that not sort of what sims stories are in the first place? Just digitally generated graphic novels?) or stage/screen writing, as Mathew suggested, are probably much more suited to the way I see the story and thus the way I tell it.

So I sim. But this time, in this instance, I wonder if I should maybe try not siming? Realizing if I don't sim this there will be many tantrums and fits of frustration with my inability to do the story verbal justice and thus will probably give up on it part way through. Thus bringing me directly to the conclusion that sometimes, in some cases, knowing yourself is not a good thing and can keep you from even trying.

I will work this out, and if this story is going to be told, it will be, in one form or another. It wants to be told. It wants desperately to be told. How desperately? I already have the outline, summary and tagline.