(I'm taking a course that will, presumably, help me find a job in the near future. Which does mean more money, but also even less time... but hey, we don't live on hobbies alone, I guess)
I do write something every day, be it the story proper or some "sketches" to clarify where the story is going. I still want the next release to have some meat to it, but I think I'll cut it down to only Missandei's part.
The player will have two paths to go down. Roughly speaking, one will be a "positive reinforcement" route, the other a "negative reinforcement" route. You will make this choice soon after the first day. Ideally, I'd love to have the player's single choices influence the outcome of the training, rather than one big choice at the beginning. So, making X harsh choices throughout the early visits would result in you not being able to go back and rectify them; and the other way around. What stops me? Well, time. It would mean a myriad of tiny little differences, each with its own consequences (and variables in the code). To give you an idea, Missandei's first visit had 24 choices, most of which small, and 51 pages in Word. It just isn't feasible as a one-man job, at least not for the way I work.
But, I want to give you (the one person reading this blog XD) a little taste of what's to come, so I'll share something.
A few months back I was struggling to write the second visit to Missandei. In the game, of course, we see things from Thalys' eyes, but I needed to know what was going on through Missandei's head, so I sat down and wrote it all again from her perspective. It's actually an idea I got from reading a statement by GRRM on how he approached the Meereenese Knot, and I have to say it does work wonders. Now, now, I know copying Martin's writing habits means going down a dangerous path, but what're you gonna do.
I might reuse parts of it for other moments, but it is unlikely to be something you'll see in the game. As such, it's not very polished. It's very close to a first draft, so the writing might not be stellar.
"Okay, why the fuck are you publishing this, then?" Heh, good question.
In this version, you had chosen to break her, changing your mind at the last minute. The text assumes you're making harsh choices throughout this second visit, as well.
MISSANDEI
Footsteps.
Each louder than the last, echoing in the hollow corridor outside her
cell. They stopped near her door, and then the man was back with her.
Words
ran in chaos through her mind, pushing her to cower to the wall, cold
and dead behind her.
Gods,
please, please, no more.
“You
should know the ground rules, slave. When you see your Master, you
greet him properly.”
Her
terrified stupor broke under his voice. She heard herself answer, a
quivering and distant sound.
“Apologies,
Master. It is good to see you again.”
“That's
better. Make it so I believe you, next time you say it.”
I
mean it. I mean it!
But
before she could voice her apology, the man raised a hand and muted
her.
The
words burned in her mouth. Days ago, she sat with the men who decided
the fate of this city, and when she spoke, they listened. Now one
gesture was all it took for fear to eat her tongue.
In
front of her might as well have been Kraznys, and her a young and
naïve girl.
“Put
those arms down, I want to see you.”
She
had been covering herself without knowing it. There had been a time
when nakedness hadn't scared her – it was what was expected of her.
Now, years after Kraznys had burned, after all her time with
Daenerys, her body was her own, and no man had any right over it. And
thinking that, she lowered her arms.
“Covering
such a beautiful sight it is an insult to the gods, girl. And to me.”
“It
won't happen again, Master.”
He
sat down.
“What
happened here yesterday, girl?”
What...
Had
it been a day? Wasn't it still happening? He was taking her still;
she felt his presence where he violated her. If that feeling would
ever fade, the pain would still be there. It was nothing new for her.
She'd fooled herself into thinking time had healed the scar, but this
man had sliced it open again with no effort.
The
tears tried to come back and she willed them down.
“You...
I was...”
What
does he want to hear?
“You
took me.”
Shame
warmed her face.
“Well,
yes. I took my pleasure, and in doing so I punished you. As per your
own words, you deserved it.”
“So,
it should be easy to answer this: why were you punished?”
He
said it yesterday. My crimes.
Had
she said she deserved it? The whole thing was a haze to her, what had
he made her do? She remembered screaming and hitting the floor.
Suddenly she was trembling. She didn't want him to do it again.
Answer
him. He wants you meek and stupid.
“I
misbehaved.”
What
came next was an unexpected roaring guffaw. She looked up again, and
the man was shaken with laughter. What had she done? Oh gods, what
had she done?
“You
misbehaved, girl,” he said at last. “You
helped tear down an ancient and noble city, then played a hand in the
Targaryen's war against Yunkai and Meereen.”
Each
sentence fell like a hammer to her ears. There was a chill in the
air.
“Gods.
What would you call the Doom of Valyria? A bad day?”
“You
led to the death of countless Masters – and slaves, for that
matter. And the first you betrayed was your Master.”
She
remembered the day Drogon had spit live fire on Kraznys. Guilt always
came with the memory. She had caught herself reminiscing about that
experience more than once with something dangerously close to
pleasure, and each time shame had followed. As bad as he was, he was
still a man.
She
had tried talking about it with Daenerys, but broaching that subject
was not easy. Whenever her queen talked of Astapor, her voice was
glacial and scary. She couldn't understand. Her answer was something
along the lines of “Those are the right feelings”, and going any
further, trying to explain what her guilt was about, meant meeting
with a wall of incomprehension. Daenerys merely looked at her, like
she would a lost lamb.
She
knew what she was thinking, of course. She had made the mistake of
admitting, once, that her slavery hadn't been as harsh as others',
but her queen's reaction had again stopped any more conversation from
happening. And yet, if only she had come to understand the shades of
grey of this world... it was so different than hers. Would things
have turned out differently? Missandei could have shared her
knowledge and helped her. She shouldn't have been scared to bring it
up. But Dany had been so cold, so cold.
“You
are guilty of a thousand and more crimes. According to law and logic,
you should be in Daznak's Pit, dancing with a lion.”
He
was looking at her sternly, knowing the weight of his words. It was
obvious, but she hadn't realized it until he'd said it. Had it been
Kraznys, she would have been skinned and fed to the Unsullied. No
words, no appeal. No whip. Master Kraznys got straight to the point,
and had done this to many a slave who disobeyed.
But
she was here. The shadowy pain in her sex was proof enough of that.
“You
spared me?”
“When
a dog bites you, you discipline it. It will hurt, and next time the
dog will remember the pain. But dogs are useful, are they not?
Killing it would put an end to its usefulness.”
“So
that's why I did what I did. Death is a foolish punishment. There is
a lesson to be learnt, girl, and I believe you can learn it.”
The
only dogs in Astapor were the Unsullied's. They were given to them as
pups by the Good Masters... and after a year, the Unsullied smothered
them. Dogs did indeed not survive long, in her former home.
There
was silence, now – he wanted her to respond. She glimpsed at his
face, but read nothing. What would Kraznys want to hear?
No.
This man is not Kraznys.
According
to Daenerys, men are similar, if not all the same. So, what would
Kraznys want to hear?
“This
one will not forget your mercy, Master.”
Daenerys
was right.
“You
speak well, girl. It will be some time before I believe your words,
but the attitude is right and should be rewarded. You must be
hungry.”
A
small chunk of hard bread. Her mouth was watering at the mere mention
of food, but seeing that precious bread, big enough for a few bites,
made her stomach growl. Of course it was some leftover. Mayhaps dogs
had had at it before her.
And
that's what I am, to him. A dog to be disciplined.
But
that was not to be said. The bitterness was wiped away by the first
bite; the stale bread like honey in her mouth. She
thanked him, and found she actually meant it.
While
she ate he stood watching her, but she didn't mind. She only stopped
when the door opened again.
A
balding, towering man entered, giving a distracted greeting to her
master, then running his eyes all over her. She felt warmth creep up
to her face, shame coming back. She was meat, to them.
“Girl,
you shall pay this man the same respect you pay me.”
Her
arms got back to cover her chest while she bowed her head and
whispered a welcome. His voice cracked at her like a whip.
“What
did I tell you about covering your body?”
She
rushed to apologize, but neither of the two men really seemed upset.
The glances of the new one – Ayquo – accompanied the last bites.
He seemed to try and look away, and almost shyly steal another look.
The
sweetness had gone out of her food. Her stomach was shrinking at the
thought of this man doing... something to her. Finding that old wound
and tearing it open even wider.
And
then her master was leaving.
“Remember
our talk. Be a good girl and an even better companion to Ayquo.”
He's
leaving me alone with him. Her eyes darted at the other man's
crotch, unbidden, then to the floor. Could she take another day like
yesterday? Just thinking about it was enough to drive her insane. She
would bash her head in against the wall, if only she could. She would
ask for mercy... but she wouldn't find any in this man.
No.
He would punish me. Grit your teeth and be a good dog.
“This
one will not disappoint you, Master.”
His
satisfied face made her stomach turn. The bread she'd eaten was a
stone in her belly. What would Daenerys say if she saw her?
She
should do the same. Bide your time, Khaleesi.
Ayquo
was seeing her master to the door.
“We
shall talk more tonight, Thalys.”
Thalys.
She
looked at him once more as he disappeared behind the door. The
scarred face, the black eyes alight with their unsettling fire, the
greying, retreating hair. It was like seeing him for the first time,
and his features seared themselves in her mind.
She
knew his name. Master Thalys.
The
door closed.
