STORY:
Man is walking from the street into the entrance of a Supermarket. When he arrives at the door he stops, scratches his chin and finds some stubble growing. He produces a buzzing mini clipper from his jacket begins shaving it off. He does not seem to notice the looming figure of a large cleaner, mopping up vomit on the pavement, who spots a sizable pimple on the man’s forehead. The sight of the pimple entrances him, and his gaze follows it as the man pockets his shaver and walks through the automatic sliding doors, into the bright glare of the fluoro lights. The man walks through the barricades into the isles as the cleaner’s face watches him from outside. Dazzled, love-struck, and obsessive expressions cover his face as it presses it’s self against the glass window.
The man walks down one isle browsing over the confusing tangle of products, which although neatly placed, are too numerous not to become confused over. Upon finding the section he was looking for He consults his list. He lowers the paper from his eyes and focuses of the shelf where he finds an item resembling the one on his list. He takes it from the shelf revealing a set of ravenous eyes on the other side of the isle. They promptly disappear followed by the hasty scuffling sounds of whoever was just there. The man, slightly surprised, realises that his stubble is growing back again. He shaves it off and puts back the object he just picked up. Glancing to his left he spots a sick looking shelf packer boy, shoving packets of squid jerky onto the shelf just a few steps away. The man looks up and down at the various brands of (item) while the boy vomits into his packing box. The man picks up the brand he wants and turns round to find the packer boy…. Or is it? It appears to be the cleaner, but in the packer boy’s clothes, packing the vomit saturated squid jerky packets into the shelf. Noticing the huge grin across the cleaner’s face, who seems to be staring at his forehead, the man overlooks the corpse of the packer boy compacted into a bloody pulp in one of the shelves near the cleaner.
The man briskly walks past to the end of the isle and enters the deli section. The man watches the deli lady who, standing behind the counter, is shaving large slices of ham off a leg of pork, blood spitting out from the rotating blade. She smiles at him and her long eyelashes flutter as small specks of blood spatter her face. Looking down now over the odd array of meats, including stingray, vampire bat, sea slugs and possum, the man spots the next item on his list. He orders a scoop of kitten tongues and while the lady prepares his order, he feels the need to shave again. Turning his back to the woman while his shaver keeps him busy he does not notice the gurgling sound of the massive fountain of blood coming form the lady’s neck as she is bitten by the cleaner. The man turns back to find the cleaner in the blood-splattered clothes of the deli lady, holding out his parcel of meat. He appears to have her hairdo or scalp on his head and some badly applied makeup on his face. The man tries to prize his parcel out of the cleaner’s strong grip while the cleaner’s face slowly looms closer and closer over the counter, eyes transfixed on the mans forehead.
The man notices the scalp of the deli lady slowly oozing blood and slipping off the top of the cleaner’s head. The cleaner produces a large grin and flutters his eyelashes as the man moves his head to one side, spotting a huge splatter of blood wall of the deli. It is most obvious that it isn’t animal blood. With an unexpected jerk, the man pulls the parcel from the cleaner’s hands and rushes off. While jogging down the isle, he consults his list. An overwhelming need to get the last two items is apparent, even if it means risking a huge grizzly beast/man eating him, it might be better than what fate would await him at home if he failed his shopping mission.
He finds his last item down in the frozen section, and as he runs past the glass freezer cabinets, he suddenly stops to shave. The cleaner happens to be inside the cabinet next to him, watching and fogging up the glass with his huge grin. The man goes down some more, grabs what he wanted and then proceeds to the counter. He is met by an extremely unenthusiastic and bored check out chick. An awkward silence ensues, as she scans in his items slowly, one by one. Sweat beads on the man’s brow and he looks anxiously back at the rows of isles. No crazy people in sight. But no sooner does he turn back, when the cleaner erupts from the check out chick’s mouth! He jumps up onto the counter and roars a hideous roar. Looking down, he notices that the man has already fled to the back of the supermarket, the doors to the staff area flapping on their hinges. In the staff area, the man is confronted by hundreds of papers with crudely drawn pictures of his head, his forehead crossed in red. Then from behind the shadow of the cleaner appears. Crazed, maniacal expressions appear on the cleaners face as he staggers slowly toward the man, his body contorting into almost impossible shapes with each step. A large hand reaches out and grabs the man by the head between two huge fingers. He lifts him up so that they meet eye to eye and once again an insane grin appears on the cleaners face. The pressure and excitement in the cleaners mind and body starts to peak and he begins to shake violently. His free hand slowly opens up like a furious claw ready to strike and then!!!!! He pops the man’s pimple! Dropping the man, the cleaner instantly becomes euphoric and gooey. With a huge sigh of relief, all his built up pressure releases. He slumps to the ground in bliss.
The man, stands on the spot, his pimple bleeding slightly, an expression of utter shock permeates his body. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the shaver
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
CHARACTER INFO
MY CHARACTERS AND PLACES
Young man:
He sets off on a late night shopping expedition. Has large pimple on his forehead that he insists on letting heal by its self. Stubble is continuously growing from his chin, which he intermittently shaves off. Was forced to go by his housemates, who are consumer witches, (witches who make their spells and potions from everyday consumer items) to buy ingredients for their cauldron/ potion. He is an unfortunate victim to enchanted ‘Housemate Wanted’ signs. Although forced into being their sex slave and lackey, he is still able, and allowed to pursue his ambition of being a freelance warrior poet. Times like these, when he is sent to buy innumerable, obscure items, brings him to the creepiest black supermarket in town. Resigned to his fate, and terminally melancholy, he continuously ponders what life throws at him. Continuously distracted by something just as he is coming to some sort of revelation within his mind.
Cleaner (the freak):
He was hired out of pity as a cleaner after recently being released from a rehabilitation centre. He is obsessive and compulsive about many things. Doesn’t understand how to be subtle, but under the illusion that he is very witty and sneaky. Has no concept of the implications of his actions. Is Prone to be unreasonably violent. Actually quite friendly and dumb, but wouldn’t think twice to rip you apart if you stood in the way of something he wanted. Not that he would be killing you out of malice, but he just treats everything apart from what he is currently focussing on, as an inanimate object. But if you were to try to scare him, he might be reduced to a quivering heap… Acts like a cute kitten when he has got what he wanted. Very loving, caring and protective to whatever he is currently interested in. Not sickened or put off by the sight of gore. Tunnel vision. Consults dead puppies and vagrant bums as his chief advisors and mentors in all his life’s challenges.
Shelf packer boy:
Tall Skinny…. Zombie. Vomit stains on apron. Sick looking. Has come to work with no sleep after massive binge drinking party. (Bong in pocket?) Still cleansing stomach of all food so his body can focus on processing the alcohol. He mindlessly stacks the shelves, while occasionally pausing to dry reach. Eventually starts vomiting into the boxes he has been pulling the products from.
Deli woman:
Beehive haircut. Large frame. One of her arms is big and muscly from over using meat-slicing lever. Wears too much makeup, rubber ducky earrings, big, green plastic gloves and flirty smile. Beady eyes. Flamingo? Clam dip anyone?
Check out chick:
Indy, rockabilly disco, prissy, teenager. Small polka dots and tight jeans. Totally self absorbed, bored, vain. She is used to being offered drinks by entranced boys and free coffees at the exclusive underground bar she frequents. Preys on people’s good will with nothing in return. She sits back in her chair at the counter and grooms herself. Applying makeup and filing her nails, she practices making devastating hateful scowls to use on customers and people she wishes to not associate with. Won’t give you the time of day. Makes you feel bad for forcing her to actually do her job.
Black Super Market:
This is a one-stop shop for every stupid obscure and contrived article known to man, along with the usual supermarket goods. Many of the items for sale are pieces of junk that the store manager pulls out of industrial waste compactors. Originally one of the pristine ‘Stream Line’ super markets owned by the conglomerate corporation ‘Wash Corp’ it has slipped under their broad corporate radar. The manager of this store still maintains an efficient workforce and functioning business, but due to his eccentric ideals of what a true supermarket should sell, it is easy to get confused and lost with what you are trying to find. The shelves are stacked and compacted neatly with thousands of products that make no sense. This creates a unique niche market for consumers of specific goods that can’t be obtained anywhere else. Especially for consumer witches who are concocting ULTIMATE WASHING LIQUID!!!! Inside one can hear the drone of elevator music, buzzing fluoro lights, and air conditioners. Squeaky floors? Even though it is open 24 hours, there are usually no customers at night. The manager keeps it open “just in case”
Employees in general:
Uniform: Apron, name tag, little sailor hat?
Young man:
He sets off on a late night shopping expedition. Has large pimple on his forehead that he insists on letting heal by its self. Stubble is continuously growing from his chin, which he intermittently shaves off. Was forced to go by his housemates, who are consumer witches, (witches who make their spells and potions from everyday consumer items) to buy ingredients for their cauldron/ potion. He is an unfortunate victim to enchanted ‘Housemate Wanted’ signs. Although forced into being their sex slave and lackey, he is still able, and allowed to pursue his ambition of being a freelance warrior poet. Times like these, when he is sent to buy innumerable, obscure items, brings him to the creepiest black supermarket in town. Resigned to his fate, and terminally melancholy, he continuously ponders what life throws at him. Continuously distracted by something just as he is coming to some sort of revelation within his mind.
Cleaner (the freak):
He was hired out of pity as a cleaner after recently being released from a rehabilitation centre. He is obsessive and compulsive about many things. Doesn’t understand how to be subtle, but under the illusion that he is very witty and sneaky. Has no concept of the implications of his actions. Is Prone to be unreasonably violent. Actually quite friendly and dumb, but wouldn’t think twice to rip you apart if you stood in the way of something he wanted. Not that he would be killing you out of malice, but he just treats everything apart from what he is currently focussing on, as an inanimate object. But if you were to try to scare him, he might be reduced to a quivering heap… Acts like a cute kitten when he has got what he wanted. Very loving, caring and protective to whatever he is currently interested in. Not sickened or put off by the sight of gore. Tunnel vision. Consults dead puppies and vagrant bums as his chief advisors and mentors in all his life’s challenges.
Shelf packer boy:
Tall Skinny…. Zombie. Vomit stains on apron. Sick looking. Has come to work with no sleep after massive binge drinking party. (Bong in pocket?) Still cleansing stomach of all food so his body can focus on processing the alcohol. He mindlessly stacks the shelves, while occasionally pausing to dry reach. Eventually starts vomiting into the boxes he has been pulling the products from.
Deli woman:
Beehive haircut. Large frame. One of her arms is big and muscly from over using meat-slicing lever. Wears too much makeup, rubber ducky earrings, big, green plastic gloves and flirty smile. Beady eyes. Flamingo? Clam dip anyone?
Check out chick:
Indy, rockabilly disco, prissy, teenager. Small polka dots and tight jeans. Totally self absorbed, bored, vain. She is used to being offered drinks by entranced boys and free coffees at the exclusive underground bar she frequents. Preys on people’s good will with nothing in return. She sits back in her chair at the counter and grooms herself. Applying makeup and filing her nails, she practices making devastating hateful scowls to use on customers and people she wishes to not associate with. Won’t give you the time of day. Makes you feel bad for forcing her to actually do her job.
Black Super Market:
This is a one-stop shop for every stupid obscure and contrived article known to man, along with the usual supermarket goods. Many of the items for sale are pieces of junk that the store manager pulls out of industrial waste compactors. Originally one of the pristine ‘Stream Line’ super markets owned by the conglomerate corporation ‘Wash Corp’ it has slipped under their broad corporate radar. The manager of this store still maintains an efficient workforce and functioning business, but due to his eccentric ideals of what a true supermarket should sell, it is easy to get confused and lost with what you are trying to find. The shelves are stacked and compacted neatly with thousands of products that make no sense. This creates a unique niche market for consumers of specific goods that can’t be obtained anywhere else. Especially for consumer witches who are concocting ULTIMATE WASHING LIQUID!!!! Inside one can hear the drone of elevator music, buzzing fluoro lights, and air conditioners. Squeaky floors? Even though it is open 24 hours, there are usually no customers at night. The manager keeps it open “just in case”
Employees in general:
Uniform: Apron, name tag, little sailor hat?
RESEARCH TASK week 1(b)
MY GROUP CHOSE THE CIGARETTE PACKET
Data entry 6:445:56
Surface of planet ‘Bob’ five light years from a housing estate in Brunswick.
Sensors detect traces of organic matter permeating the vicinity of terrestrial landing site. Further investigation reveals to us an object of unknown origin. The following log details our observations and deductions as to the object in question.
Taking the shape of a rectangular box, the object has a hollow centre in which we have identified numerous cylindrical capsules. These seem to be containing the carefully preserved remains of some sort of deceased life form. Mummified by use of various noxious chemicals and packed tightly and painstakingly into individual chambers, these must hold some great significance to whoever prepared them. We postulate that such a grand and hardy tomb symbolizes a great reverence to the expired life-form within. After analyzing the outer layer of the sarcophagus we found it to be a material able to withstand harsh natural environments that cover this planet. Possibly elders within planet Bob’s social hierarchy these tombs are likely designed to fulfill the symbolic voyage of a demigod’s transcendence to enlightenment. The markings on the surface of the tomb may be shamanic wards designed to curse any who dare interrupt the slumber of the dead.
Data entry 6:445:56
Surface of planet ‘Bob’ five light years from a housing estate in Brunswick.
Sensors detect traces of organic matter permeating the vicinity of terrestrial landing site. Further investigation reveals to us an object of unknown origin. The following log details our observations and deductions as to the object in question.
Taking the shape of a rectangular box, the object has a hollow centre in which we have identified numerous cylindrical capsules. These seem to be containing the carefully preserved remains of some sort of deceased life form. Mummified by use of various noxious chemicals and packed tightly and painstakingly into individual chambers, these must hold some great significance to whoever prepared them. We postulate that such a grand and hardy tomb symbolizes a great reverence to the expired life-form within. After analyzing the outer layer of the sarcophagus we found it to be a material able to withstand harsh natural environments that cover this planet. Possibly elders within planet Bob’s social hierarchy these tombs are likely designed to fulfill the symbolic voyage of a demigod’s transcendence to enlightenment. The markings on the surface of the tomb may be shamanic wards designed to curse any who dare interrupt the slumber of the dead.
GROUP INTERROGATION ANSWERS
Name: Sebastian
- Concept synopsis: Man is in supermarket and stalked by crazy killer for his pimple.
- Project type: Story/random violence based animation.
- Next steps:
- Work out solid structure to hold it all together.
Questions:
- How will structure work?
A: There will be a gradual build up of suspense. First he is in an isle, then at the deli, then in another isle and then at the counter, where everything is exposed. Then there will be the final scene of the pimple popping which will climax and then relax back down. - Why does guy have massive pimple?
Because of the many spells that are cast on him by the consumer witches he lives with. Always trying to find cures for skin ailments, they use him as their test animal. - Why does psychopath care about pimple?
The cleaner is quite mentally unstable and is prone to vivid hallucinations. The pimple might grow a face and plead with him to pop it. Otherwise he just likes squishing stuff. - How do the supermarket staff react to their co-workers deaths?
If they knew, they would be shocked and call the police, but unfortunately they never find out, or get a chance for that matter. - Do they even notice? No and neither does the man until the end.
- What specific people does the psychopath kill in order to spy on guy?
He kills the shelf packing boy, the deli lady and the check out chick. - What’s with the cutaways of puppies, anyway?
He might be consulting the puppy, asking for guidance. - Why is the guy content with the pimple?
He doesnt want to pop it because he likes to let things heal naturally, and doesn't want to get it more infected that it already is. - Does he know he has a massive pimple?
Yes he does, and he isnt too pleased with it.
- How will structure work?
CONCEPT TASK week 2: Character
A PERSON I KNOW VAGUE, DRUNKEN, INTROVERTED, UN-MOTIVATED HIGHLY TALENTED!!! SCENE DESCRIBING PERSONALITY! Sitting in alleyway near a dance club, Iain takes swigs of goon from the extracted silver bag he hid in his vest. The rest of us have just come out from some intense boogying in the club. We ask him if he's going to come join us inside at some point. He says yes, but we know it's not going to happen. I start to talk to him about having fun, and if sitting in an alley drinking goon while his friends are inside dancing is fun for him. He finishes off the goon sack that he alone has consumed over the last few hours and rambles about the philosophy of enjoyment in a purely subjective manner. We begin to discuss some unique ideas for a collaborative street art project that we will never do. Iain feels sleepy and takes a nap... WEATHER: CLOUDY WITH RAINBOWS ANIMAL: MANTA RAY HOUSEHOLD OBJECT: CRAYON MACHINE: HOVER CRAFT PLACE: SOFT TOY FACTORY MUSIC: HIP HOP MIXED WITH SESAME STREET COLOUR: OLIVE FONT: GRAFFITI FICTIONAL 'archetype' or stereotype: THE SLEEPY GIANT
CONCEPT TASK 1(a): PERSONAL STORY
What the ENVELOPE reminded me of:
I remember in year 10, I was offered a place in the student exchange program with our sister school in Japan. Being 15 years old, I was the youngest person to have gone so far. My time there was very difficult and I became very homesick. Using my creativity to keep me from going crazy, I would spend long hours in my room, creating beautiful, hand written letters for all my family and friends back home. I would include diagrams of my host family's house and detailed descriptions of each member who's sometimes tedious and annoying natures I would rant about.
These letters would be covered in illustrations of the many new things I was experiencing, like foods such as raw beef and squid meat, and the numerous festivals that took place throughout the year. Decorations filled any free space on the paper, as my boredom forced me to make the most of any moments i could spend writing and drawing. This spilled over to the blue envelopes I was supplied with, making it impossible to read any address or official information. All over the front and back my illustrations and ramblings spewed, using the striped air mail design as something I could make pictures out of. The paper was so thin and flimsy, barely able to withstand pressure all my ink and pencil lead put upon it. I would amass a large wad of these letters - and in some cases miniature booklets, and then mail them out in one big parcel as their addresses were illegible. I would include an instruction manual of how to open each one and who they were for. It was a time of stewing in my own mind and making the best of my circumstances. Not entirely positive or negative.
I remember in year 10, I was offered a place in the student exchange program with our sister school in Japan. Being 15 years old, I was the youngest person to have gone so far. My time there was very difficult and I became very homesick. Using my creativity to keep me from going crazy, I would spend long hours in my room, creating beautiful, hand written letters for all my family and friends back home. I would include diagrams of my host family's house and detailed descriptions of each member who's sometimes tedious and annoying natures I would rant about.
These letters would be covered in illustrations of the many new things I was experiencing, like foods such as raw beef and squid meat, and the numerous festivals that took place throughout the year. Decorations filled any free space on the paper, as my boredom forced me to make the most of any moments i could spend writing and drawing. This spilled over to the blue envelopes I was supplied with, making it impossible to read any address or official information. All over the front and back my illustrations and ramblings spewed, using the striped air mail design as something I could make pictures out of. The paper was so thin and flimsy, barely able to withstand pressure all my ink and pencil lead put upon it. I would amass a large wad of these letters - and in some cases miniature booklets, and then mail them out in one big parcel as their addresses were illegible. I would include an instruction manual of how to open each one and who they were for. It was a time of stewing in my own mind and making the best of my circumstances. Not entirely positive or negative.
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