Here are some stories you might not have seen from the days when I was helping with Eden Studios survival horror role playing game ALL FLESH MUST BE EATEN.
The living dead shambled aimlessly down the street, their clothes and flesh in tatters. My heart in my throat, I angled the van around them as best I could, but they flail at the vehicle as it passes, their slimy fingers streaking the body. I had hoped to find settlements here on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. All I found was abandoned cars and shattered storefronts. The Pancake House was in flames, the grocery stores had all been looted, zombies milled around inside the showroom windows of a department store, gnawing confusedly on half-clothed mannequins. Every few miles I tried the CB radio, hoping to find someone, anyone out there that could help...
Something stirred beneath four and a half feet of mud and snow. A rage so profound that even the February cold couldn't dim it. Instinctively, she began to claw her way to the light. It was almost like being born again...
I fought my way to awareness, taking in distorted gasps of the waking world before the dream pulled me back down like a savage undertow...
It's the golden rule of Hollywood. The writer always gets the shaft. The producers make all the money, the actors get all the fame, the director gets to put his vision on the screen, the rest of the crew get paid and get to go home; but the writer? The writer pours his guts out onto the page and if he's lucky he sees 20% of what he wrote make it through the grinder. If he's really lucky, he gets paid what he's worth...
No comments:
Post a Comment