diff --git a/Story/0BattleRoyale.fountain b/Story/0BattleRoyale.fountain index 957d8ac..930616e 100644 --- a/Story/0BattleRoyale.fountain +++ b/Story/0BattleRoyale.fountain @@ -436,89 +436,45 @@ CUT TO: INT. THE COLOSSEUM - THE STANDS - CONTINUOUS -/* The chorus cutaway. This is our look at the audience for the first time. Wide shot across tiered stone bleachers; the Gumball Rule is in full force — each creature rendered in a different idiom, different universes stitched onto the same bench. 2D, 3D, painted, chibi, photographic, sketchy. Do not homogenize. We ride a slow pan, picking out faces in order, each holding one short beat. */ +/* The chorus cutaway. This is our look at the audience for the first time, and it plays SILENT — no spoken lines, no shouted lines. All characterization through visual beat, posture, gesture, stitched over ambient crowd murmur that never resolves into words. Wide shot across tiered stone bleachers; the Gumball Rule is in full force — each creature rendered in a different idiom, different universes stitched onto the same bench. 2D, 3D, painted, chibi, photographic, sketchy. Do not homogenize. We ride a slow pan, picking out faces in order, each holding one short beat. No dialogue. Music or ambient wash only. */ -Front and center in the lower bleachers, working the crowd: **EXPERIMENTA1ICE** (a.k.a. BRANNDON) — Murder-Drones-style femboy fembot, slender white plating with visible joints, black visor with two tilted glowing red "eyes" and a thin smug mouth line, long wavy dark red hair, gray goggles parked on the forehead, red sleeveless crop top, black fitted pants, heavy segmented black tail with blade-like spines, a thin cable over the shoulder ending in an orange-canister claw tool. He's holding a brass tray stacked with ceremonial courtly hot dogs. - -EXPERIMENTA1ICE -(loud, professional-upward grin) -HOT DOGS! HOT DOGS HERE! FIVE COINS, A FAVOR FROM THE THRONE, OR A SEX JOKE THAT ACTUALLY LANDS! - -He tosses one three rows up. It is caught. He winks at nobody and keeps moving. +Front and center in the lower bleachers, working the crowd: **EXPERIMENTA1ICE** (a.k.a. BRANNDON) — Murder-Drones-style femboy fembot, slender white plating with visible joints, black visor with two tilted glowing red "eyes" and a thin smug mouth line, long wavy dark red hair, gray goggles parked on the forehead, red sleeveless crop top, black fitted pants, heavy segmented black tail with blade-like spines, a thin cable over the shoulder ending in an orange-canister claw tool. Brass tray stacked with ceremonial courtly hot dogs balanced on one hand. He's working the aisle with a practiced upward grin, tossing a dog three rows up. It is caught. He points at the catcher, winks, collects coin in a pouch at his hip, keeps moving. Pan up one tier. -Side by side, a pair: **NONCRITICALMOTHER** — kind-eyed, silver-streaked-pink hair, soft cardigan over a pastel pink top, laugh lines, motherly. Arm around the shoulders of **NONCRITICALGAMINGTTV** — pastel kawaii bust, choppy pink hair, huge pink **heart-pupil** eyes, rabbit + bow hair clips, stick candy at her mouth. Both of them holding Branndon's hot dogs, eating politely. - -NONCRITICALMOTHER -(soft) -Small bites, dear. - -NONCRITICALGAMINGTTV -(heart-eyed, mouth full) -Mhmhmh. +Side by side, a pair: **NONCRITICALMOTHER** — kind-eyed, silver-streaked-pink hair, soft cardigan over a pastel pink top, laugh lines, motherly. Arm around the shoulders of **NONCRITICALGAMINGTTV** — pastel kawaii bust, choppy pink hair, huge pink **heart-pupil** eyes, rabbit + bow hair clips, stick candy at her mouth. Both of them holding Branndon's hot dogs, eating politely in synchronized small bites. Mother dabs the corner of the younger's mouth with a folded napkin without looking. The younger keeps her heart-eyes fixed on the sand below. Pan right. -**PIRATE_PROTOGEN** — protogen visor muzzle, LED trim, tricorn hat, navy coat with brass buttons, cutlass on the hip, hologram parrot flickering on his shoulder. Standing. Cupping hands to his muzzle-speakers. +**PIRATE_PROTOGEN** — protogen visor muzzle, LED trim, tricorn hat, navy coat with brass buttons, cutlass on the hip, hologram parrot flickering on his shoulder. Standing. Gesturing emphatically at the sand floor with both arms, mid-rant, but the crowd wash swallows whatever he's saying. He slaps a fist into his palm once for emphasis, points at somebody, sits down, crosses his arms, satisfied. -PIRATE_PROTOGEN -(bellow) -DAWG. WHY YOU PLAYIN A BROKEN FNAF GAME. - -A beat. Nobody answers. He sits down, satisfied. - -Beside him: **FOXY_FNAF5_UCN** — chibi fox-build, galaxy-print panels on ears / cheeks / top / shorts / tail-tip (indigo starfield with scattered stars), warm orange-gold base fur, eyepatch, hook hand, big fanged grin. Bouncing. - -FOXY_FNAF5_UCN -(squeal) -WHERE'S ROXANNE WOLF I NEED TO CLAP. +Beside him: **FOXY_FNAF5_UCN** — chibi fox-build, galaxy-print panels on ears / cheeks / top / shorts / tail-tip (indigo starfield with scattered stars), warm orange-gold base fur, eyepatch, hook hand, big fanged grin. Bouncing on the bench seat with both feet off the stone, pointing at the bubble and mouthing something urgent at Pirate_Protogen that the ambient swallows. Pirate_Protogen does not look over. Pan up a tier. -**BASEDGYMRAT** — exaggerated gym-bro, tank top with neon GAS lettering, sweatband, dumbbell charm on a chain, mid-hype pose with both arms up. - -BASEDGYMRAT -(roar) -GAS! GAS! GAS! HELLO DERGON! LURKING! JUST WANTED TO SAY! +**BASEDGYMRAT** — exaggerated gym-bro, tank top with neon GAS lettering, sweatband, dumbbell charm on a chain. Mid-hype pose with both arms up, mouth open mid-cheer, neck cords visible — the full body of a shout, none of the sound arriving. He pumps both fists rhythmically three times at nothing in particular. Pan across to a quieter row. -**MICLBERO** — soft-painted anthro fox face, sandy fur, lavender mask across the eyes, electric blue eyes, narrow knowing smirk. Sitting quietly, hands folded. Earnest. Practicing a line under his breath. - -MICLBERO -(to himself) -English is not my native language... but i wanna get more practice. +**MICLBERO** — soft-painted anthro fox face, sandy fur, lavender mask across the eyes, electric blue eyes, narrow knowing smirk. Sitting quietly, hands folded on his knees. Earnest. Lips moving, barely — practicing something private — but we don't get audio, and the angle is soft-focus on him. Pan. -**CAMEOQUEEN86** — short rainbow / teal / magenta pixie, dramatic eye makeup, fabric mask printed with soft clouds and "Go Away" in pink gothic type, dark floral tank with strappy neckline. Watchful. Leans toward a neighbor. - -CAMEOQUEEN86 -(low, knowing) -Have you noticed something about the map? +**CAMEOQUEEN86** — short rainbow / teal / magenta pixie, dramatic eye makeup, fabric mask printed with soft clouds and "Go Away" in pink gothic type, dark floral tank with strappy neckline. Watchful. Leaning in toward a neighbor, tapping two clawed fingers on the neighbor's forearm, pointing at something at the far end of the sand floor. The neighbor squints. Neither of them speaks on-camera. Pan. -**RAYNE8856** — long straight black hair, fair skin, simple dark tee, thin chain, a single earbud in one ear, foot up on the bench in front of him. Subtle smirk. Confidently bored. - -RAYNE8856 -(to no one) -Highly experienced player. Called it. +**RAYNE8856** — long straight black hair, fair skin, simple dark tee, thin chain, a single earbud in one ear, foot up on the bench in front of him. Subtle smirk. Confidently bored. Already nodding, small, like he's been proven right about something he never bothered to say out loud. Pull back to wide. -The stands are full. Hundreds of creatures in hundreds of idioms. They coexist without comment — it is as though the Gumball multiverse has bought season tickets. +The stands are full. Hundreds of creatures in hundreds of idioms. They coexist without comment — it is as though the Gumball multiverse has bought season tickets. The wash of their voices is thick but abstract, never resolving into words. Above them, suspended on brass rigging with no visible anchor, the **JUMBOTRON** wakes from black. Its Catmull-Baroque frame glows at the ornament lines; the dead-black panel warms slowly to a live feed. -On the feed: the **inside of the bubble**. A forest. Nine contestants somewhere within it. A hush spreads across the chorus. +On the feed: the **inside of the bubble**. A forest. Nine contestants somewhere within it. A hush spreads across the chorus — the ambient wash thinning, dropping away — until the only sound in the colosseum is the low brass hum of the jumbotron frame. -Branndon freezes mid-toss, a hot dog halfway to a buyer. Lowers his tray. - -EXPERIMENTA1ICE -(quiet now) -Here we go. +Branndon freezes mid-toss, a hot dog halfway to a buyer. Lowers his tray. Tilts the black visor up toward the feed. Stays there. CUT TO: