I'm amateurish game designer and scenario-writer. Currently working on Kickstarter project of adventure game set in 70's. Dark 70's like Taxi Driver, not crazy 70's. And the whole presentation starts with narration of protagonist - old private investigator. English is not my native language, and while I can handle it in the most natural forms (dialogues), I'm terrible at writing "artificial" text like forum posts or monologues that long. That's why I'm looking for a bit of help from someone who knows english language well (being native would be super-cool) for a little bit of help. Not sure how I could even show my gratitude for that kind of help... but I'll do my best to deliver.
Here'
s a text.
Also, feel free to comment the text. I'm slowly getting into whole "writing in english" thing. So share your criticism!WHEN THE DUST BROKE
The name is Hackneye. Philip Hackneye, private investigator. This long and annoying title means that I try to dig the truth out of shit and get paid for it. Usually both truth and my payment are the same kind of shit as the shit I'm digging in. But after so many years, I got used to it. Everyone would. I'm an ex-cop actually. Some time ago worked here, in Neon City. Want to hear about my pathetic downfall? How I got stuck in 4x3 room full of piles of meaningless papers marking cases even a trained chimpanzee could solve? I'm gonna warn you it ain't a fairy tale - so better grab a bottle of something to not get dry. Man's not a camel, he needs to drink, right?
Everything about this case seemed pretty simple. Everything except of the suspect – William Hayden, rich businessman with ambitions high enough to get himself involved in politics. He was running for the position of Neon City’s Mayor. In act of anger, he brutally murdered a hooker with his own
bare hands. At the time I believed the case is gonna be easy. Obviously it wasn’t. Lost evidences, witnesses who suddenly refused to talk. Justice has dead hooker's eyes and in this case, someone put the coins on them already. Final hearing was a bad-taste farce. Even parents of the victim, partially shocked by fact that their daughter was a hooker and most probably paid by Hayden backed all the charges. I felt disappointed. Disgusted?
Maybe. I started to wash off that feeling with cheap liquors.
Then that night happened. All I know about it was that I was heavily drunk. And met Hayden during ceremony of election of new Mayor. Yes, this bastard. And then, drunk as hell, I started to shout "Murderer" after him. I was quickly dispatched by Hayden's bodyguards. I remember that the thing which woke me up was the beating. They broke my nose and hand, and left me in the lurch.
All I remember from that was the pain and rain drops blurring everything.
Soon I faced the consequences. I got
fired. Sharon left me. Didn't mentioned her. My then-wife, currently ex-wife. And hell... the only thing I know how to do is looking for answers. There aren't many people here who know the price of that better than me. I became private investigator. The old coat and a gun is all what was left after good, old Philip.
MURDER OF CROWS
Everything started with local journalist finding Johnny Santo. Everyone knew Johnny. He was the big fish in filthy aquarium called drugs market. Lord of the underground who never thought twice about getting his hands dirty. He was lying in one of those dark backalleys. Neon City is full of them - those are obviously not the safest places in the world, it's more likely to get stabbed with the knife than patted on your shoulder there...
But hell, what a mess. There's difference between dying and dying like that - same as getting hit with bouquet of roses and a truck. He got beaten up. Heavily. There are trails of heavy boots on his whole body and face, or that Eschers painting that was his face yesterday. And then... someone gauged out his eyes with crowbar. Gauged is a bad word - more like smashed them, like rotten tomatoes. "Always look at the bright side of life" I whistled under nose, one of the cops crossed oneself when heard that. You have real greenhorns these days under yourself, I've seen him puking like a cat on Titanic's board later. But going back to crime scene, there was also message on the wall.Written with Santo's blood:
“When your heart grows dark, Crows will take your sight.”
The first thought I had was a case of bad poetry which is pretty common among the local lowlifes, especially Negros. Ritual murder was not something uncommon for drug mafias – they always liked flashy kills that make sure everyone understand what they meant. “Don’t mess with us” – said the empty eye sockets, at least to me and probably to most of Neon City cops. The journalist who found the corpses claimed this is going to be beginning of the series. He was
right, actually. After few days another victim was found… but that’s another, much longer story…
