Project Alpha Thematic Narrative Sample

By David Roberts, Creative Director

I sat and watched as the mist clung to the paddies during the last chilly moments before the sun kissed the horizon. I couldn’t sleep, so I found myself some busy work, feeding the chickens, and toasting some eggy rice over what was left of yesterday’s fire. I disliked the smell of charcoal, too often it would bring back memories altogether unsolicited. I am not sure if the stench of my own nose hair burning away in my nostrils saved me from the explicit memory of burning bodies that still cried in that foul language of theirs, or if it was in some way an equally cruel replacement. Or even if it was any consolation that it was not me who held the flamethrower. Though it could easily have been, and on any other day it likely would have been. Just not the day that they were there. As I looked at the glowing logs, I remembered the tiny bones that cracked white from the heat. No different to a pig or a dog. My mind wandered to my grandfather, and the thought that he would have been hung for desertion. Or if his trenches were really any worse than those stinking tunnels the gooks use. I missed my small-block Nova, I missed In-N-Out. I wonder what it would cost me to buy that back? Everyone has a price, even Uncle Sam…

Later that day…

“41, 42, 43, 44…”

“Hey bro, where are you?”

The sound came from a scraggly teenager with dirty blonde hair and enough stubble to irritate anyone looking his way. His Converse worn down to the fabric, an odd match to his combat fatigues shoved down into what were once white sports socks.

“They got a new boxer coming from across the way, says he wants…”

The burly man was sat cross-legged on the floor, this was the third clip he was filling up from an old crate of 7.62.

He smiled at the younger man, but somehow that smile never reached his eyes.

“Just a trip to the radio tower.”

“You never know?”

“You never know.”

“Yeah, far out. Just be careful. There are so many new faces here. Maybe we should think of leaving soon…”

“Well, if we do then better do it before that match, or I’ll have to carry you. Our Ma kicks harder than you…”

“Fuck you, prick!”

“That how you speak to a man with a gun?”

The smile vanished from his lips as he stared down the teenager, but this time you could see it in his eyes.

“Seriously though bro, Khru has me helping with grain storage and I am telling you, this place isn’t going to be safe soon. There are what, eight of them left? Those fucking gooks come and cry about shit back home but they ain’t jivin’. Too many for them to say no to now.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m going to the tower. Get washed, you stink of chicken shit and buffalo. Wash your fucking clothes too, I doubt any snakes could stand the smell of you.”

The kid lifted one of his feet, showing off his makeshift “leggings” and let out a laugh.

This piece is intended as a thematic narrative sample and is not indicative of playable segments within Project Alpha or as expanded media. However, the use of a piece such as this in a project with sufficient overlap will be seen as a breach of international copyright.