It goes something like this...
Some of the images I have been collecting for my interative narrative thingy mah bob.
The inards of the virtual spawn of my Sam.
Monday, August 27, 2007
This is a random post because I have received no emails....
It goes something like this... Some of the images I have been collecting for my interative narrative thingy mah bob.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Week Two
For week two we did a very distressing writers block exercise. I discovered that I have a lot, and I mean a lot of stuff I want to talk about in my life. So this ends my need for finding experiences to reflect and appropriate into narratives. Honestly, I was a little surprised at my memory, one thing would lead to about five things those five things would lead to another ten things and so on. Ok well, this was the exercise point so I can’t take all the credit for it. Nevertheless I’ve hand picked some of these memories and connections that I hopefully will develop some what as I type this blog into incredible and meaningful online narratives. Bear with me.
I began with the idea of the Phone Book.
From this came;
Telephone numbers
Telemarketers
Lists
Unknown/private numbers
Names/heritage
Family
Door stop
Delivery (white delivery vans)
Catalogue
Thin pages
Paper cuts
Identity
Cover Art Work
The smell of fresh paper
The sound of the clear wrapping
From this I picked:
Telephone numbers
Telemarketers
Delivery
Thin pages
Cover artwork
Telephone numbers.
Almost everyone has a telephone number. There are several types of telephone numbers, landlines, mobile phones or fax numbers. We can be reached from anywhere by the use of these numbers.
I always remember one of my numbers. It wasn’t the first or last number of my old house in Brisbane. Just one the numbers we had. Benelong Street we would call it.
Benelong Street was very much a family home. My Great Grand mother lived there. My Grandmother lived there; she died when I was one or two years old. She died in the bed and room that my mother slept in for 15 years. I think it was my grandmother who planted a tree in our yard. She planted many things; our home was very much a jungle. This tree in particular was a grand tree, a Jacaranda. The tree was bulldozed when we sold the home last year. Last time I saw it was an empty lot.
-Benelong Street.
Benelong Street reminds me of a dream my mother told me she had.
She was back at Benelong Street and her father said that he had found all the pieces of the house at the dump. They could rebuild Benelong Street. Mum said she couldn’t because she lost her identity.
-My Great Grandmother
My grandmother was the favourite sister. I think she had one other sister and another brother. Auntie Fay looked after my grandmother for a while. My great grandmother would only have tea and sayo’s to eat.
-The Jacaranda
I used to climb this tree. Once when my mother was little she fell out of the tree and broke her leg. She said she crawled around for 6 months because her mother didn’t like the doctors. Her mother died of cancer that may have been prevented if she complained enough and went to the doctor.
We had another tree, it was nothing special, but mother would through all her tea bags in it. We would call it the tea tree. I have a new T tree, near my house; I often take photos of it.
Telemarketers
Telemarketers are annoying. They call, sometimes have recordings automatically. I’m pretty sure it illegal to have autodialing machines in Australia. Perhaps they come from overseas in some sought of western romantic ideal of a sweat shop. For those in Australia, telemarketing would be an awful job. Shannon was a telemarketer. Telemarketers, or rather those above telemarketers must believe that by telling us we won something, we will be interested. As stupid as it seems, some people must buy into it. Otherwise why would they call? I would hate to be one of those people.
When a telemarketer calls, I listen to them ramble on and on, following some sought of list of details of the things you get for ‘free’ if you sign up/buy the product. I guess they got overexcited because I haven’t hanged up on them yet. They say, “Doesn’t this sound good?” I say, “Sorry I wasn’t paying any attention, I don’t support telemarketers, please remove this number from the list.” Beep beep beep.
I’ve only done this once and haven’t had the chance to do it again, which is a shame.
-Shannon
Shannon is a guy that was in my year in high school. I was never a fan of Shannon, and he was never a fan of me. He could sing quite well and won a part scholarship to some university in Brisbane. I think he toured around America as well. His parents got divorced recently. He now lives with my friend from high school Ali and his mum. Ali’s mum is never home much. She is a nurse. Ali isn’t much of a fan of Shannon now that he has lived with him. I like to say “I told you so.”
-Voice recordings
I find you never sound the same when you record your voice. It’s always quite disturbing when you here yourself. “What an annoying voice” I always think.
-Won things
I’ve won 4 things in my life;
When I was in grade one I won a toblerone bar because I coloured in the lines. I think I bumped one of the other girls so they went out the lines. This was in Cracow (not
sure of the spelling) there were 4 people in my grade.
I won a coca cola hat when I was about 13-14. I did an illegal front flip of the diving board in a contest. The life guard told me off, but I won the hat.
Couple years after that I won a Playstation 2 by joining a squash club. Took me about 3 weeks to quit. Couple weeks after that they called and said I won.
I won a jewellery designing contest and got a $50 voucher for a jewellery store. I put a deposit on a ring it was $110, but my mother couldn’t afford to pay the rest. I’m sure some one else bought it. It was a cool ring.
Delivery
Phone books are delivered… Every year? Perhaps every two years. They come in tight plastic coverings that you get to rip off. I think they come from mysterious white vans. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone deliver the phone books. They just arrive. There arrival however is signalled by the amount of ads on how your business will suffer if you don’t put it in yellow. JAN! I always get confused at the colours, I think yellow is businesses and white is people.
Once when we lived in our jungle, the phone books were left outside. I assume the delivery person couldn’t find our door. All the pages went wavy, a collective wave throughout the whole book. There were spots of mould on some pages none on others.
-Invisible Delivery Vans
I wonder if the trucks do exist. I’ve never seen or heard them. I never seen anyone come right up to our front door and place the phone book there. I have not even seen anyone throw it at our house. I don’t think that’s something you would miss. Or maybe it is. There were a lot of trees after all at Benelong Street.
This reminds me of a snail. I don’t remember the name of the snail but I’m 100% sure it had one. It had a house between the rocks around number 9 letter box. It was an impressive home. The snail had a green shell. It was one of a kind. It lived there for years until it was forgotten. I guess it still lived there but not in a way that was recognised or appreciated. Until it was discovered. The snail through the rubbish away.
-Not so Invisible Van
When I was younger, perhaps 4-5 years, my friend Tammy and I were playing out the front of her house. A white van pulled up and asked that he had lost his dog. Tammy and I remember the event differently. She remembers having to stop me and I remember having to stop her.
-I have another memory like that. When we were swimming in her pool, I jumped in with out a life jacket. Tammy remembers having to jump in and save me. I remember rolling my eyes and swimming back to the side.
Tammy and I have been friends for a very long time. I still think she is one of my closest friends. I think the count is up to 15 years or something. That’s a long time. I wonder if memory is as ambiguous as it seems. I don’t really know many events that have happened that others have shared with me. It would be a personal thing after all. One event could trigger a multitude of results, some significant others not so. Or seemingly not significant until in two days or weeks or decades could it become significant. More than likely a seemingly minor detail in my life, or in another’s life that has happened to “cross” mine in a non significant or major way could have manipulated the thinking of this thought, hence it may not have existed. By gosh I think I’ve made the whole importance of a non linear narrative such a darn interesting topic (happy?)
The sound of flesh, bone, teeth on rock resonated through the grey.
Covers of the phone book.
Every year (or two) the phonebooks have a different cover. Sometimes it has wealthy, smiling and attractive people on the cover.
One year I remember a photo of the story bridge on the cover. Did the photographer enter a competition? It was a pretty boring cover; I don’t think it would have been a creativity thing. I think they pay people to do the cover. Maybe that year (not that I pay much particular attention to the cover of phone books, which now on reflection was a bad idea because I’m completely unprepared to say anything of importance about the book.) they decided; lets take a chance and not put smiling people on the cover, or some lame connection to yellow or white. Maybe the yellow has different people running it.
I won a jewellery designing contest and got a $50 voucher for a jewellery store. I put a deposit on a ring it was $110, but my mother couldn’t afford to pay the rest. I’m sure some one else bought it. It was a cool ring. (Yep nothing new to say about this one)
My ring had a star with wing either side of it. My mother was shocked when she saw the photo copy of my design. She didn’t think I could draw anything like that. Then she laughed about it. I remember thinking I did really well because I had crappy paper and pencils to sketch with. I was at my fathers’ girlfriends place, Heppie.
Heppie had a daughter Lisa. Lisa could be annoying sometimes. But I was at a difficult age, I remember going there once and thinking, why am I mean to her, poor Lisa. I think I grew up a little that day. Just a little. Lisa father died when she was younger. Kids at her school teased her about it.
Thin pages
The pages of the phone book are thin. They rustle a lot. They remind
me of the pages of the bible.
Recently I went to a Christian camp with Daniel. It was okay; I don’t really believe in God and haven’t been exposed to any other deities to really choose one. I know that there is some sought of consciousness to what humans are experiencing, I’m just watching out if this consciousness wants to do good or bad. On the other hand I think that everyone can have some control over where they are going, but there are definitely things outside of anyone control. The point is we had fun at the camp, after a while though I felt slightly excluded, or maybe I made myself that way, maybe I just imagined the whole thing which is more than likely because I have an over active imagination.
But my imagination isn’t very useful. It’s not like I can think of awesome stuff at any given moment. More like I’ll distract my self from an important task by running away in fantasy.
My family, that is; Aaron (mothers partner), Sam (brother) and I play World of Warcraft. It’s alright more like something we play while we wait for a better game to come out. I played the same character for 2 years and still haven’t maxed out her in levels. I get distracted and do something else for a couple months then I go back then I stop playing to try another game and then go back and continue and then make another character and then so on and on and onward.
At this camp they wanted us to decided if we were going to turn from God and not do missionary type work and strengthen our church community or just go for a “God centred life”.
I have three paper cuts at the moment; two from the white deli paper at work. Deli paper is white, clean and crisp. Until you get to scrunch it around some deli item.
Hot fish and chips wrapped in paper, the oil creates damp patterns over the folded paper. If you lay the paper flat, it will look like one of those psychology things that decide if you are stable or not. They used (or I have seen in movies) use newspaper around the chips.
The text bleeds everywhere into an inky mass.
Thin page smell like money, I mean lots of money and flicking through it like in the movies. I think Australia was one of the first places to use a plastic thing for there notes. I wonder if the coins will become plastic. Maybe they already are; some incredible metal like plastic with the same weight and everything as old ones. They melted all of the old coins down into all the number plates that the people and prison for extra bread roll at dinner and sell them for a thousand bucks, our very own personalised plate. Little do we know that our plate is really worth 20 50 cent coins and a couple of one dollars and prisoners sweat and a bread roll.
My parent bought a personalised plate for their new car. It cost them 1200 bucks for a black NECRO plate. Necro is Latin for death, my mothers current boyfriend like those types of things. He used to have a necromancer in Everquest. The car is very girly anyway so at least Aaron can claim the number plate.
END OF RAMBLE
I realise by the time I finished typing this (took a couple weeks) that it ended as some sought of continual conscious dribble. Sorry about that but I’m going to keep it. Good to know how I think, or at least have a document that can reflect how I think at a particular moment in space and time.
To construct this into an online interactive environment I would want to keep the flow of it. Within my own ability it would be links and so on, in a technology adept person it would be some sought of growing, breathing mass that you would scroll over and it would bloom with images, words, drawings, sounds, music, links, poems, etc. The connections to the scrolled over object would fall behind and the next layer would grow in front. Perhaps it could be a drawing thing, scroll, grow, click, it would freeze. Or maybe the layers that came before could become slightly transparent and the one before that even more so. That way it would continue moving.
I began with the idea of the Phone Book.
From this came;
Telephone numbers
Telemarketers
Lists
Unknown/private numbers
Names/heritage
Family
Door stop
Delivery (white delivery vans)
Catalogue
Thin pages
Paper cuts
Identity
Cover Art Work
The smell of fresh paper
The sound of the clear wrapping
From this I picked:
Telephone numbers
Telemarketers
Delivery
Thin pages
Cover artwork
Telephone numbers.
Almost everyone has a telephone number. There are several types of telephone numbers, landlines, mobile phones or fax numbers. We can be reached from anywhere by the use of these numbers.
I always remember one of my numbers. It wasn’t the first or last number of my old house in Brisbane. Just one the numbers we had. Benelong Street we would call it.
Benelong Street was very much a family home. My Great Grand mother lived there. My Grandmother lived there; she died when I was one or two years old. She died in the bed and room that my mother slept in for 15 years. I think it was my grandmother who planted a tree in our yard. She planted many things; our home was very much a jungle. This tree in particular was a grand tree, a Jacaranda. The tree was bulldozed when we sold the home last year. Last time I saw it was an empty lot.
-Benelong Street.
Benelong Street reminds me of a dream my mother told me she had.
She was back at Benelong Street and her father said that he had found all the pieces of the house at the dump. They could rebuild Benelong Street. Mum said she couldn’t because she lost her identity.
-My Great Grandmother
My grandmother was the favourite sister. I think she had one other sister and another brother. Auntie Fay looked after my grandmother for a while. My great grandmother would only have tea and sayo’s to eat.
-The Jacaranda
I used to climb this tree. Once when my mother was little she fell out of the tree and broke her leg. She said she crawled around for 6 months because her mother didn’t like the doctors. Her mother died of cancer that may have been prevented if she complained enough and went to the doctor.
We had another tree, it was nothing special, but mother would through all her tea bags in it. We would call it the tea tree. I have a new T tree, near my house; I often take photos of it.
Telemarketers
Telemarketers are annoying. They call, sometimes have recordings automatically. I’m pretty sure it illegal to have autodialing machines in Australia. Perhaps they come from overseas in some sought of western romantic ideal of a sweat shop. For those in Australia, telemarketing would be an awful job. Shannon was a telemarketer. Telemarketers, or rather those above telemarketers must believe that by telling us we won something, we will be interested. As stupid as it seems, some people must buy into it. Otherwise why would they call? I would hate to be one of those people.
When a telemarketer calls, I listen to them ramble on and on, following some sought of list of details of the things you get for ‘free’ if you sign up/buy the product. I guess they got overexcited because I haven’t hanged up on them yet. They say, “Doesn’t this sound good?” I say, “Sorry I wasn’t paying any attention, I don’t support telemarketers, please remove this number from the list.” Beep beep beep.
I’ve only done this once and haven’t had the chance to do it again, which is a shame.
-Shannon
Shannon is a guy that was in my year in high school. I was never a fan of Shannon, and he was never a fan of me. He could sing quite well and won a part scholarship to some university in Brisbane. I think he toured around America as well. His parents got divorced recently. He now lives with my friend from high school Ali and his mum. Ali’s mum is never home much. She is a nurse. Ali isn’t much of a fan of Shannon now that he has lived with him. I like to say “I told you so.”
-Voice recordings
I find you never sound the same when you record your voice. It’s always quite disturbing when you here yourself. “What an annoying voice” I always think.
-Won things
I’ve won 4 things in my life;
When I was in grade one I won a toblerone bar because I coloured in the lines. I think I bumped one of the other girls so they went out the lines. This was in Cracow (not
sure of the spelling) there were 4 people in my grade.
I won a coca cola hat when I was about 13-14. I did an illegal front flip of the diving board in a contest. The life guard told me off, but I won the hat.
Couple years after that I won a Playstation 2 by joining a squash club. Took me about 3 weeks to quit. Couple weeks after that they called and said I won.
I won a jewellery designing contest and got a $50 voucher for a jewellery store. I put a deposit on a ring it was $110, but my mother couldn’t afford to pay the rest. I’m sure some one else bought it. It was a cool ring.
Delivery
Phone books are delivered… Every year? Perhaps every two years. They come in tight plastic coverings that you get to rip off. I think they come from mysterious white vans. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone deliver the phone books. They just arrive. There arrival however is signalled by the amount of ads on how your business will suffer if you don’t put it in yellow. JAN! I always get confused at the colours, I think yellow is businesses and white is people.
Once when we lived in our jungle, the phone books were left outside. I assume the delivery person couldn’t find our door. All the pages went wavy, a collective wave throughout the whole book. There were spots of mould on some pages none on others.
-Invisible Delivery Vans
I wonder if the trucks do exist. I’ve never seen or heard them. I never seen anyone come right up to our front door and place the phone book there. I have not even seen anyone throw it at our house. I don’t think that’s something you would miss. Or maybe it is. There were a lot of trees after all at Benelong Street.
This reminds me of a snail. I don’t remember the name of the snail but I’m 100% sure it had one. It had a house between the rocks around number 9 letter box. It was an impressive home. The snail had a green shell. It was one of a kind. It lived there for years until it was forgotten. I guess it still lived there but not in a way that was recognised or appreciated. Until it was discovered. The snail through the rubbish away.
-Not so Invisible Van
When I was younger, perhaps 4-5 years, my friend Tammy and I were playing out the front of her house. A white van pulled up and asked that he had lost his dog. Tammy and I remember the event differently. She remembers having to stop me and I remember having to stop her.
-I have another memory like that. When we were swimming in her pool, I jumped in with out a life jacket. Tammy remembers having to jump in and save me. I remember rolling my eyes and swimming back to the side.
Tammy and I have been friends for a very long time. I still think she is one of my closest friends. I think the count is up to 15 years or something. That’s a long time. I wonder if memory is as ambiguous as it seems. I don’t really know many events that have happened that others have shared with me. It would be a personal thing after all. One event could trigger a multitude of results, some significant others not so. Or seemingly not significant until in two days or weeks or decades could it become significant. More than likely a seemingly minor detail in my life, or in another’s life that has happened to “cross” mine in a non significant or major way could have manipulated the thinking of this thought, hence it may not have existed. By gosh I think I’ve made the whole importance of a non linear narrative such a darn interesting topic (happy?)
The sound of flesh, bone, teeth on rock resonated through the grey.
Covers of the phone book.
Every year (or two) the phonebooks have a different cover. Sometimes it has wealthy, smiling and attractive people on the cover.
One year I remember a photo of the story bridge on the cover. Did the photographer enter a competition? It was a pretty boring cover; I don’t think it would have been a creativity thing. I think they pay people to do the cover. Maybe that year (not that I pay much particular attention to the cover of phone books, which now on reflection was a bad idea because I’m completely unprepared to say anything of importance about the book.) they decided; lets take a chance and not put smiling people on the cover, or some lame connection to yellow or white. Maybe the yellow has different people running it.
I won a jewellery designing contest and got a $50 voucher for a jewellery store. I put a deposit on a ring it was $110, but my mother couldn’t afford to pay the rest. I’m sure some one else bought it. It was a cool ring. (Yep nothing new to say about this one)
My ring had a star with wing either side of it. My mother was shocked when she saw the photo copy of my design. She didn’t think I could draw anything like that. Then she laughed about it. I remember thinking I did really well because I had crappy paper and pencils to sketch with. I was at my fathers’ girlfriends place, Heppie.
Heppie had a daughter Lisa. Lisa could be annoying sometimes. But I was at a difficult age, I remember going there once and thinking, why am I mean to her, poor Lisa. I think I grew up a little that day. Just a little. Lisa father died when she was younger. Kids at her school teased her about it.
Thin pages
The pages of the phone book are thin. They rustle a lot. They remind
me of the pages of the bible.
Recently I went to a Christian camp with Daniel. It was okay; I don’t really believe in God and haven’t been exposed to any other deities to really choose one. I know that there is some sought of consciousness to what humans are experiencing, I’m just watching out if this consciousness wants to do good or bad. On the other hand I think that everyone can have some control over where they are going, but there are definitely things outside of anyone control. The point is we had fun at the camp, after a while though I felt slightly excluded, or maybe I made myself that way, maybe I just imagined the whole thing which is more than likely because I have an over active imagination.
But my imagination isn’t very useful. It’s not like I can think of awesome stuff at any given moment. More like I’ll distract my self from an important task by running away in fantasy.
My family, that is; Aaron (mothers partner), Sam (brother) and I play World of Warcraft. It’s alright more like something we play while we wait for a better game to come out. I played the same character for 2 years and still haven’t maxed out her in levels. I get distracted and do something else for a couple months then I go back then I stop playing to try another game and then go back and continue and then make another character and then so on and on and onward.
At this camp they wanted us to decided if we were going to turn from God and not do missionary type work and strengthen our church community or just go for a “God centred life”.
I have three paper cuts at the moment; two from the white deli paper at work. Deli paper is white, clean and crisp. Until you get to scrunch it around some deli item.
Hot fish and chips wrapped in paper, the oil creates damp patterns over the folded paper. If you lay the paper flat, it will look like one of those psychology things that decide if you are stable or not. They used (or I have seen in movies) use newspaper around the chips.
The text bleeds everywhere into an inky mass.
Thin page smell like money, I mean lots of money and flicking through it like in the movies. I think Australia was one of the first places to use a plastic thing for there notes. I wonder if the coins will become plastic. Maybe they already are; some incredible metal like plastic with the same weight and everything as old ones. They melted all of the old coins down into all the number plates that the people and prison for extra bread roll at dinner and sell them for a thousand bucks, our very own personalised plate. Little do we know that our plate is really worth 20 50 cent coins and a couple of one dollars and prisoners sweat and a bread roll.
My parent bought a personalised plate for their new car. It cost them 1200 bucks for a black NECRO plate. Necro is Latin for death, my mothers current boyfriend like those types of things. He used to have a necromancer in Everquest. The car is very girly anyway so at least Aaron can claim the number plate.
END OF RAMBLE
I realise by the time I finished typing this (took a couple weeks) that it ended as some sought of continual conscious dribble. Sorry about that but I’m going to keep it. Good to know how I think, or at least have a document that can reflect how I think at a particular moment in space and time.
To construct this into an online interactive environment I would want to keep the flow of it. Within my own ability it would be links and so on, in a technology adept person it would be some sought of growing, breathing mass that you would scroll over and it would bloom with images, words, drawings, sounds, music, links, poems, etc. The connections to the scrolled over object would fall behind and the next layer would grow in front. Perhaps it could be a drawing thing, scroll, grow, click, it would freeze. Or maybe the layers that came before could become slightly transparent and the one before that even more so. That way it would continue moving.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Week ONE Goodies
LonelyGirl15
Bree is a home-schooled 16 year old girl who has discovered the wonders of the YouTube diary, courtesy of her friend Daniel. Bree is an intelligent, odd, religious and entertaining young woman who has conflicts and identity issues as she deals with her first boyfriend, controlling parents and the increasing needs of her religion.
This would be the bumper sticker version of LonelyGirl15 I discovered over the three hours I spent watching the one to three minuet video blogs posted on YouTube beginning June 16, 2006. It only took people a couple of months to discover Bree was a character created by Ramesh Flinders and Miles Becket; according to Wiki.
Before this though, Bree seemed a relatable and interesting character, she even had her own Myspace. The interesting thing about her video blogs was watching the peaks of views on issue related to her “friend” Daniel and her religious upbringing. As I continued to read about the LonelyGirl15 phenomenon on Wiki, it seems she ended up self sacrificing herself. The thing that interested me in her video blogs was the slight changes, reality isn’t as interesting as Bree’s life became. I guess that’s how her fans figured that she was a fictional character.
The whole point of this is looking at narrative on an interactive web based scale. Bree was interactive by responding to fellow bloggers comments and videos posted around the place. This does however take a lot of time, the story developed at a realistic rate. Question is; can I create a narrative that is engaging, interactive and can be done within a different time constraint?
Ideas for Interactive narratives:
-Video Games (flash time)
-Comic Strips (also flash time)
-Chat Rooms (I have not a clue how to develop something like that)
-News Rooms (could be done)
-email forwards (as much as they annoy me)
Alright the way I see it, pretty much any narrative could be molded into one of these formats. One thing I’ve learnt about narratives and story telling is that you don’t have a chance when you’re young unless you go on about your own experiences… That’s where I’m stuck UNTIL NEXT WEEK!
(Yes I'm about to type my blog for next week, its your fault Jason!)
Bree is a home-schooled 16 year old girl who has discovered the wonders of the YouTube diary, courtesy of her friend Daniel. Bree is an intelligent, odd, religious and entertaining young woman who has conflicts and identity issues as she deals with her first boyfriend, controlling parents and the increasing needs of her religion.
This would be the bumper sticker version of LonelyGirl15 I discovered over the three hours I spent watching the one to three minuet video blogs posted on YouTube beginning June 16, 2006. It only took people a couple of months to discover Bree was a character created by Ramesh Flinders and Miles Becket; according to Wiki.
Before this though, Bree seemed a relatable and interesting character, she even had her own Myspace. The interesting thing about her video blogs was watching the peaks of views on issue related to her “friend” Daniel and her religious upbringing. As I continued to read about the LonelyGirl15 phenomenon on Wiki, it seems she ended up self sacrificing herself. The thing that interested me in her video blogs was the slight changes, reality isn’t as interesting as Bree’s life became. I guess that’s how her fans figured that she was a fictional character.
The whole point of this is looking at narrative on an interactive web based scale. Bree was interactive by responding to fellow bloggers comments and videos posted around the place. This does however take a lot of time, the story developed at a realistic rate. Question is; can I create a narrative that is engaging, interactive and can be done within a different time constraint?
Ideas for Interactive narratives:
-Video Games (flash time)
-Comic Strips (also flash time)
-Chat Rooms (I have not a clue how to develop something like that)
-News Rooms (could be done)
-email forwards (as much as they annoy me)
Alright the way I see it, pretty much any narrative could be molded into one of these formats. One thing I’ve learnt about narratives and story telling is that you don’t have a chance when you’re young unless you go on about your own experiences… That’s where I’m stuck UNTIL NEXT WEEK!
(Yes I'm about to type my blog for next week, its your fault Jason!)
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