Cutter

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A video-game writing sample in the science-fiction genre, by Travis Greene.

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Science Fiction Writing Sample
by Travis Greene The Game: “Cutter” “Cutter” is a futuristic sci-fi FPS. Think BioShock starring Dirty Harry. This is an M-rated game. The year is 2213, and the Player is Marshal Zane Cutter, a hard-boiled agent of the Union Marshals Service. Two years ago, a shadowy criminal named Simon Falke was arrested for the bombing of a genetic research laboratory that left hundreds dead and destroyed a decade's worth of work. But he escaped while awaiting trial, killing several guards and a Union marshal in the process. Cutter has been hunting him ever since. After so long, the trail has gone cold, but a tenuous lead has led the marshal to a planet on the edge of colonized space – where he soon finds himself pitted against the murderous forces of a bio-research company that will do anything to keep their secrets safe. Somewhere at the heart of the mystery is Simon Falke, and Zane Cutter isn't going home until he gets his man. The Weapons Fairweather Flint F3 Workhorse of the Union Marshal's Service, the Flint is simply put the finest sidearm ever manufactured. Its flight-stabilized iridium-tungsten rounds guarantee high accuracy and armor penetration at any range, and a selectable burst-fire mode provides unparalleled knock-back punch. Korewerks K40 Reaper This battlefield shotgun fires a rapid burst of fragmenting shells, designed to turn soft fleshy targets into soft, bloody pieces. Release a hail of deadly shrapnel against unarmored targets at short range, or narrow the spread to inflict devastating damage on a single (unfortunate) target. Cybrid CY6A Glazer The Glazer launcher is one of Cybrid's most successful gen-weapons, combining machine-crafted hardware with genetically modified living weaponry. A bio-warhead saturates the target area in a potent acid, which can optionally congeal into a powerful adhesive (at the expense of damage). SolTech S1 Nova The Nova is SolTech's first foray into the (relatively) small arms market, adapted from their much larger ship-based weapon systems. Rapid-fire plasma bolts can decimate a lightly-armored enemy squad. For slower, harder targets, the Nova's continuous beam setting is more effective.

NPC Profile: Simon Falke Simon Falke is the product of a company called BioNova, whose radical genetic experiments combine human DNA with that of other species both terrestrial and alien. Born in the cloning vats of the planet Gravis and trained in weapons and espionage, Falke was sent to gather data on rival company ExeGen, steal their advanced research, and then inflict as much damage as possible. Falke did just that when he bombed ExeGen's lab complex on Earth. Though he was apprehended, his true identity was never discovered, and he managed to escape custody and return to Gravis with the stolen data. Falke now serves as head of internal security for BioNova's operations on Gravis, weeding out the few dissenters and “purifying” troublesome gene lines. Falke was spawned from the Viper series of animal-human hybrids. The gene line utilizes enhanced DNA harvested primarily from various snake species to provide Falke with lightning speed and the ability to produce several varieties of potent venom. The cold-blooded, reptilian sensibilities of the Viper series were an unintentional side effect, but they have served Falke well in his capacity as both an intelligence agent and security chief. He is calculating and detached, taking a craftsman's pride in his work. Though once appearing perfectly normal, and still recognizable as he once was, Falke has begun to express animal characteristics as he ages. He now has enlarged reptilian eyes, snake-like fangs, and fine scales over much of his body. While Falke would never admit to concerning himself with simple aesthetics, he finds his new appearance quite pleasing – and rather useful in his role as an interrogator and enforcer.

The Cut-Scene: Meet the Marshal

EXT. OUTER SPACE A sinister orange planet fills half the screen. Sunlight glints off the silvery disc of an orbiting space station, its beacon lights pulsing in and out. A long spaceship lumbers into view from behind the camera, engines throbbing loudly, headed for the station. Superimposed onscreen: Cargo Ship Devil's Bargain Approaching Gravis III PILOT (VO) (over radio) Gravis station control, this is Devil's Bargain on approach at one-four-zero relative, request permission to dock, over. INT. DEVIL'S BARGAIN COCKPIT The PILOT is at his console, surrounded by instruments with blinking lights. He's leaning to one side, holding down a transmit button next to a speaker, talking to Gravis Station CONTROL over the radio. CONTROL Permission granted, DB, you're clear for approach on one-four-zero. It's about time your sorry ass got here. PILOT Yeah, I know, shut up and listen. I've got a goddamn marshal on board. I was held up two days waiting for him. The camera pans slowly out of the cockpit to reveal a hulking, shadowy form in the cockpit hatchway. This is MARSHAL ZANE CUTTER, a mean, burly bad-ass with the Union Marshal Service. He looks like someone stuffed a gorilla into a fedora and a trench coat and shaved a little hair off. He sounds like Ron Perlman, or Marv from Sin City. CONTROL Shit. What the hell is a marshal doing out here on the ass end of space? PILOT No clue, man. Just thought I'd give you a heads up.

CONTROL Yeah... Yeah, you did good. tell the chief. Control out.

Thanks.

I'll

The PILOT leans back, then starts and turns around as CUTTER lights a cigarette. CUTTER Friend of yours? PILOT Oh, hey marshal... Not really. I just haul a lot of cargo here. CUTTER Guess you know this place pretty well then. The PILOT shrugs and smiles nervously. CUTTER So what do they do here? No one's been able to tell me jack squat about Gravis. PILOT I really couldn't tell ya either, marshal. Some kinda, you know, science-y stuff. Research. CUTTER Science-y stuff... Buncha geniuses, huh? CUTTER turns around, sneers and stalks off. CUTTER You must fit right in. CUTTER passes the camera and the PILOT makes a sour face, turning back to his console. PILOT Asshole. A flicked cigarette SMACKS the back of the PILOT's head in a shower of sparks. PILOT Ow!

INT. SPACESHIP CORRIDOR CUTTER walks down the corridor towards his cabin, a shit-eating grin on his face. He lights a new cigarette, and his grin slowly fades into his trademark scowl. He pulls his coat aside as he pockets the lighter, and a close-up shows the badge on his belt: Zane Cutter, Union Marshals Service. CUTTER enters his cabin and the door slams shut. INT. SPACESHIP CABIN CUTTER picks up a prisoner file and looks it over. Front and center is the perp's photo. CUTTER (VO) Simon Falke. Busted two years ago for a bombing that killed three hundred people. That was mistake number one. Breaking out of prison? That's the mistake that's gonna cost him. CUTTER drops the file and pulls a GIANT REVOLVER out of a holster and checks it over. CUTTER (VO) Fugitives are marshal business. marshal always gets his man. CUTTER snaps the revolver's with grim satisfaction. Dead, or alive. INT. GRAVIS STATION HANGAR BAY The Devil's Bargain settles down on the landing pad. The loading hatch opens. Cutter stands in stark silhouette. His cigarette glows. Light glints off his badge. CUTTER (VO) Guess which one I'm shootin' for. CUT TO OPENING CREDITS. cylinder shut CUTTER (VO) And a

and smiles

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