Hi, my name's Alex.
I don't have any of the skills that you were looking for the BETA contest. I don't have a camera that I can record a crappy youtube video either, so I tried to create something with the skills that I do have.
I'm not expecting anything, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. It's a little story about Starcraft and the little man.
THE PRIVATE, by Alex Walker
PROLOGUE
Originally, I'd planned to tell you a grand story about one of the greatest heroes of our time. It was a tale full of hope, bravery and overcoming the odds. It's no different from the odds we Terrans face today, against the might of the Swarm and the superior psychic technology of the Protoss.
Sure, we have our heroes too. Jim Raynor's exploits against the Confederacy and his efforts to undermine Arcturus Mengsk's regime are legendary. There's Admiral Duke, and even the achievements of Admiral DuGalle before his unfortunate ... death ... impressed the UED Council.
But if you took any one of those heroes, would they win a war on their own? No. They cannot. Terrans, unlike the Zerg or Protoss, cannot work alone. We cannot build a family without a partner. You cannot fly a Battlecruiser solo, and one hero cannot defend a sector.
That's where you come in.
You might not be a great soldier, or a leader. You may not possess the intellect of a scientist, or the latent abilities of a Ghost. But you are important. Your actions matter and you need to know that you counted for something.
Rather than thinking about the glorious, or the legendary, I would like you to stop and consider the seemingly unimportant, the little, the inconsequential.
This is a story for you.
CHAPTER ONE
You could hear the hydraulics in motion, the gas being expunged from one cylinder to another. People looked at a door, and usually considered nothing. Thoughts were not reserved for doors, much less for the mechanics that bind them together. Occasionally you might get frustrated - it's not opening fast enough, or it's broken - but it's like everything else, a simple object taken for granted.
But imagine life without a door: it would just be a wall, or an empty space. Doors give privacy, act as emergency barriers and even shield sound. Take that away and you start to miss the benefits it provides.
"Step in, Private."
With the tell-tale mechanical exhale, the doors parted to give The Private a look at The Captain. He was everything you could expect from a bootcamp commander. There was that typical look of steel and the chiseled jaw of a drill sargeant. Years of toil and hard training had left no body fat to be seen, but he had a wily appearance. The Private guessed that The Captain was quite slender as a child, and had probably weathered a lifetime of insults.
That explains the steely look, The Private thought.
Mid-salute, The Private noticed The Captain had an unusual lack of personal effects. It's not as if The Captain had just moved in - he'd been here for a year or so, and not having any memories or trinkets was a sign of a typically cold man.
"Looking around the room, Private?" The Captain's acute gaze caught The Private off guard, and he reflexively twitched at the discomfort of betraying his thoughts.
"Uh, yes sir. I just noticed that ... well, there wasn't anything to notice."
"And does that bother you, Private?"
True to form, The Private thought. The Marine Corps didn't advertise picnics and sentiment, and be damned if The Captain let a little love get in the way of a good bootcamp.
"Of course not Captain."
"I should hope so. The Zerg don't give you time to say goodbye to your loved ones out there on the battlefield. If you have time to do anything, it'd better be firing that C-141. Got it Private?"
"SIR YES SIR!"
"Good. Go to the OC and report to the Supply Sargeant. He'll direct you to your quarters and give you your schedule. First run is tomorrow at 0400 Zulu. That's all Private."
Snapping to a salute, The Private pondered something bordering on heresy: what's the difference between being born from a womb or a larva if we all behave like the Swarm?
I don't have any of the skills that you were looking for the BETA contest. I don't have a camera that I can record a crappy youtube video either, so I tried to create something with the skills that I do have.
I'm not expecting anything, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. It's a little story about Starcraft and the little man.
THE PRIVATE, by Alex Walker
PROLOGUE
Originally, I'd planned to tell you a grand story about one of the greatest heroes of our time. It was a tale full of hope, bravery and overcoming the odds. It's no different from the odds we Terrans face today, against the might of the Swarm and the superior psychic technology of the Protoss.
Sure, we have our heroes too. Jim Raynor's exploits against the Confederacy and his efforts to undermine Arcturus Mengsk's regime are legendary. There's Admiral Duke, and even the achievements of Admiral DuGalle before his unfortunate ... death ... impressed the UED Council.
But if you took any one of those heroes, would they win a war on their own? No. They cannot. Terrans, unlike the Zerg or Protoss, cannot work alone. We cannot build a family without a partner. You cannot fly a Battlecruiser solo, and one hero cannot defend a sector.
That's where you come in.
You might not be a great soldier, or a leader. You may not possess the intellect of a scientist, or the latent abilities of a Ghost. But you are important. Your actions matter and you need to know that you counted for something.
Rather than thinking about the glorious, or the legendary, I would like you to stop and consider the seemingly unimportant, the little, the inconsequential.
This is a story for you.
CHAPTER ONE
You could hear the hydraulics in motion, the gas being expunged from one cylinder to another. People looked at a door, and usually considered nothing. Thoughts were not reserved for doors, much less for the mechanics that bind them together. Occasionally you might get frustrated - it's not opening fast enough, or it's broken - but it's like everything else, a simple object taken for granted.
But imagine life without a door: it would just be a wall, or an empty space. Doors give privacy, act as emergency barriers and even shield sound. Take that away and you start to miss the benefits it provides.
"Step in, Private."
With the tell-tale mechanical exhale, the doors parted to give The Private a look at The Captain. He was everything you could expect from a bootcamp commander. There was that typical look of steel and the chiseled jaw of a drill sargeant. Years of toil and hard training had left no body fat to be seen, but he had a wily appearance. The Private guessed that The Captain was quite slender as a child, and had probably weathered a lifetime of insults.
That explains the steely look, The Private thought.
Mid-salute, The Private noticed The Captain had an unusual lack of personal effects. It's not as if The Captain had just moved in - he'd been here for a year or so, and not having any memories or trinkets was a sign of a typically cold man.
"Looking around the room, Private?" The Captain's acute gaze caught The Private off guard, and he reflexively twitched at the discomfort of betraying his thoughts.
"Uh, yes sir. I just noticed that ... well, there wasn't anything to notice."
"And does that bother you, Private?"
True to form, The Private thought. The Marine Corps didn't advertise picnics and sentiment, and be damned if The Captain let a little love get in the way of a good bootcamp.
"Of course not Captain."
"I should hope so. The Zerg don't give you time to say goodbye to your loved ones out there on the battlefield. If you have time to do anything, it'd better be firing that C-141. Got it Private?"
"SIR YES SIR!"
"Good. Go to the OC and report to the Supply Sargeant. He'll direct you to your quarters and give you your schedule. First run is tomorrow at 0400 Zulu. That's all Private."
Snapping to a salute, The Private pondered something bordering on heresy: what's the difference between being born from a womb or a larva if we all behave like the Swarm?