Voices of the Dead — The Story Idea Vault

It’s a common misconception that a great idea makes a great story. The truth is that most great stories come down to execution. A great idea with poor execution rarely works, but a great writer can breathe new life into even the most tired tropes.

Like any writer, I have my own treasure trove of ideas that might end up in a story…someday. But why horde them? Instead, I’m opening the vault and setting them free.

Feel free to use these ideas as a writing prompt, or come up with your own twist and reply in the comments.

Voices of the Dead

The professors were all thrilled when Dr. Landau agreed to join our little jungle expedition. They didn’t want to reveal their findings in writing, but they had to say enough to catch her interest.

I met her at the landing strip, and she wasted no time. As she stepped out of the plane, she asked me, “What’s all this about the parrots?”

“They’re speaking a dead language,” I told her. It sounded silly when I said it. “But the dig sites are all pristine. No potsherds. No hand axes. No bones or remnants of fire pits.”

She soon gave up questioning me, and we hiked to the camp, hardly speaking. We listened to the banter of long-dead voices, croaked from bird to bird in the treetops.

She was quick to confront my superiors.

“What kind of catastrophe can wipe out all traces of a civilization except their language?” she asked the professors. Of course, they had no answer. We had pondered it for twenty sleepless nights.

I once held those withered, bookish men in high esteem, but they were afraid to tell her our final secret. And who am I to judge them? I didn’t tell her either. She had to find out herself, alone in her tent as twilight fell on the misty jungle.

At night, the parrots stop echoing the words of the dead. After the sun goes down, the birds only recount their final, terrified screams.

Mouthwashing — Games for People Who Prefer to Read

You could say I’m not much of fan of horror. I’ve learned a lesson from music: if I think I dislike a genre, it just means I’m picky and I haven’t found the particular examples that hit just right. House of Leaves, Soma, and Alien are some examples that proved to me I can enjoy horror—it’s just a hard sell.

I’m not sure if I enjoyed Mouthwashing. I’m not sure it’s a game that’s designed to be enjoyed. I am enough of a gaming hipster to appreciate when a game tries to evoke a mood, even if it’s an unpleasant one and it doesn’t always pull it off perfectly.

Mouthwashing is a short (3-4 hour) game about the five-person crew of the Pony Express ship Tulpar, a long-hauler transport spaceship on a year-long delivery run. We don’t see the world beyond the ship. We don’t know what it’s like out there, or how far into the future we are. The world of Mouthwashing happens in the grimy, poorly lighted corridors of the Tulpar. The visuals are purposely lo-fi; not only grimy, dark, and gory, but viewed through a crunchy, pixelated filter.

The tale is nonlinear, jumping back and forth several months around a cataclysmic incident. The ship hits an asteroid, crippling it and leaving the crew stranded with limited supplies.

In the past, we play as Curly, the captain of the ship. During the crash, Curly is severely injured, wrapped in bandages, bedridden, and in excruciating pain. A single bloodshot eye peers out from the bandages. A row of bare teeth, with no lip to cover them. In the scenes after the crash, with Curly nearly out of commission, we play as Jimmy, the co-pilot, Curly’s longtime friend and the guy who just can’t seem to get his life together. Rounding out the crew are Anya, the medic; Swansea, the mechanic; and Daisuke, the intern who was unlucky enough to board at the last minute before launch.

The gameplay mostly revolves around conversations among the crew, with occasional simple puzzles and item-fetching. There are two brief “gamier” sections where some reflex and strategy are required, but I found these to be the weakest and most frustrating portions of the game.

As the months go on and the characters become  desperate, civility breaks down. It becomes clear that there are dark secrets among the crew. The game becomes more and more surreal, reflecting Jimmy’s progressively deteriorating mental state. Flash backs to Curly slowly reveal the hidden secrets that Jimmy doesn’t want to talk about, or even acknowledge to himself.

As the crew turn on each other, the ship’s actual corridors fall away, leaving us and Jimmy in a mostly hallucinated world where we can only guess what is real and what is metaphorical. It all ends in blood and tears, as Jimmy tries and fails to hide from a series of horrible truths.

Mouthwashing echoes a classic strain of horror where a small group of people are trapped together in the face of a monster or horrific situation. Here though, despite being lost in space, the horrors are decidedly human.

Mouthwashing is made by Swedish studio Wrong Organ and is available on Steam, Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 5, and Xbox Series X/S.

The Story Idea Vault — Sacred Monster

It’s a common misconception that a great idea makes a great story. The truth is that most great stories come down to execution. A great idea with poor execution rarely works, but a great writer can breathe new life into even the most tired tropes.

Like any writer, I have my own treasure trove of ideas that might end up in a story…someday. But why horde them? Instead, I’m opening the vault and setting them free.

Feel free to use these ideas as a writing prompt, or come up with your own twist and reply in the comments.

Idea of the Week – The Sacred Monster

The temple seems nice enough. All those marble pillars, the fine stained glass, and candle-lit sanctuary. A holy place. A peaceful place. The monks travel the twilit halls in packs, the cowls of their rough gray robes hiding their faces.

Visitors may know about the catacombs below the temple. They may know that the monks will end up there, when their service is done. Each is assigned a stone alcove where their flesh will slowly fall away and their bones will remain for eternity. Only the holy are welcome there. Visitors may not descend to the catacombs.

Visitors do not know about the shape in the darkness. They do not know about the eyes that watch the monks when they place one of their own in his final resting place. Outsiders must not hear the whispers that echo up the sealed stairwells, that can barely be heard in the clatter of steam working through the old pipes and radiators.

They must never know about the thing down there. About the notes the monks find, etched into the bedrock, telling them what the future holds. About the tomes of prophecy dictated by those who have seen the scrawlings of the beast. Those who inevitably suffer terrible deaths. Accidents. Surely accidents. Never mind the eyes weeping blood, or the missing fingernails.

The temple is a peaceful place. A holy place. Visitors are welcome.