By "alternative", I mean perspective styles that are less than common in mainstream literature, and perhaps even reside in underground scenes, such as 2nd person, 3rd person objective, stream of consciousness, epistolary, and whatnot. I ask this because, in one of my own recent fanfictions, there is no "action tag." One character speaks and thinks through untagged words, and everyone else speaks with dialogue tags. If it had just been thinking through untagged, perhaps it could have been first person, but I made it so that others understand what's written between the tags, in an almost fourth-wall kind of manner (except the story never breaks the fourth wall). I've also done something similar with Freejazz Theta.
Anyone care to discuss the pros and cons of using Alt prospectives, and how I may be able to hone it down?
Here's an example...
print; "Byodokan Sunfall"
(burn after reading)
Tha atmosphere is downer. Bare pale green flaking off da many grasses, da tired whites and creams on da tainted walls, da faded rainbows in da city streets, da blank azures and sleepy ivories in da sky, da ennui in da air. It's all in slow motion on my second time around. Some sort of lazy haze sits over ev'rything, but- tis- tis world just... I don't know. If you're not here, if you're not seeing it from my eyes, to have color in a grey world, then effe you. But something tints over tis life- a relaxed air where everything has heavy outlines and nothing is well crafted. Diagonal streets and Victorian lamps for miles fit tis I don't know if I should use da word 'perfectly'. Better idea- I'll just pull you out of my napsack. Look at that over dare! Did you see it? Here it comes now, look. To da right- not into da sun, dunce. Look west, no east. Are you daft, or must I twist youh periscope head? Come, let us observe da animals in question while they've abated. Just one's here right now. Hey where, oh crap, will we turn in the little vats above?
g They want their vats in six to ten hours. Sora City. Look alive, it's him."
Standing in da dilapidated grass is Sonic, and he's looking at da vast tracks of black sheens. Cept his most minimal shadow, da land near him- and us- is clear of any abstractions in a peculiar arch. Maybe that's a smile or perhaps da friendly sun is dafting my eyes. What do you see? His face has- and now he's gone.
"Can't I have a chance to speak?" No. "Then what is da real point of all tis?" To feel mizable, dat we're utterly animemo youths lost in tis warehouse. "Well, uh, Viper, why not follow 'im? He's heading for Seven Flags."
I sit here in tis Ferris Wheel going up, around, and down while a stoic world is- moving on. We have no where else to but down and further down into those shadows down there, so whadyou say? Shall we enter da gates of Hell or just sit back on my Model V and hope Sonic actually acknowledges we exist for once?
Model V 'tis.
gThat's not Hell. That's a Cafe Robotnik. Why not just stop and get a glass a' milk before we go. Add some villoceet and we're off." You forgot to ask. "Why not stop and get a glass a' milk before we get out of here? Better?" I guess. Still got Rings? "Yeah, some." Hey, you think Robotnik got any taxes on tis place? "One thing's for sure. Definitely needs to change that annoying bell."
Are we so desperate losers that we would cast ourselves into million degree mercury for da sole purpose of achieving material satisfact'? We are here in fallen society glared at by, oh just look at that pathetic thing right thre. Look at tis! All his dimensions are wrong. We're in their world and they have made more mistakes than we have. You can throw that away if you want, I don't want such a sad thing. Like I was saying, here we are in fallen society with Static Police drones hooked up to our neurons and for what?
gHis blood." Right. "But we're stronger than da Empire, we're stronger than Him. We-we can vake his victorio like nothing. We're like Saiyans in Naruto's world." You're going too far there. Let's get out of here. That 'Exit' light is as inviting as a migrane and I'm sure I just felt someone rub against my shoulder.
"But we're da only ones here, Viper." That's exactly what I mean, dunce. Fickle chuck'ead.
"Yo, man, look!" says the mouse.
"Don't look at that. They'll look back," says the cat.
"But they look so cute," says the hat.
"They're not cute. They're hedgehogs-" Uh oh, we better scram befor' da Static Police bombs the place. Here they come right now.
" But tis is the second time-" Your silkos better be synced before the hour is over 'cause it sounds like you've been slammed with a Serdist Virus. "Yeah, I do feel it comin' on again. Bubble time?" Yeah, bubble time. Just make sure your rip actually works or else da bubbles'll pop and we'll be sunk under twent' miles of s*** again. "Where'll the rips open?" Minatown, prolly. That's where I just sent the Model V. "Wai-wai-wait, prolly? You mean you don't know!"
"Take the note, (bleep)! Take it!" A dove singing fire came down with more shockwaves than Fat Man or Little Boy. The newspaper buzzed even more nonsense. Cue The Prodigy... No, this is no recess. Enter the mouth of the dragon, pistol in hand. Fire, fire fire. Down the man goes. What was his story? Don't turn back and think. Walk away and smell the rain glazed grass.
If only there were others like me and this loon over here.
Type 2; Type 3, open file.
Print "hello world"
Here be the world. All languages I own. Humans are the most wondrous failures of all. Some car just past. White man in black. Black man in white. Why are they standing here? Creeper. And those shiny things behind their sunglasses... Not eyes. Not human! Wait, no chase. Not even another look. Not Reapers.
This is a perfect day. Another perfect day? Why two? The Reapers' are here. Run into Shiba'. Run back to 'Bukuro. Shibukuro. My real plastic home. It was before now, at least. There he is- the man with angel wings.
"TV is totally awesome. Radio is still fun. Mirrors are more fun than television." Hanekoma said that. Ride the waves. The brainwaves, ride the brainwaves. Plant myself in the radio waves. Surf their cell phones. Blast through their TVs. Infect their brains. And that's meme implanting. This whole generation's connected to the radio waves, and they're all stupid enough to let themselves be- Another one. Fire, fire fire. Burn, yes, you're going to burn. Lightning bolt. End it with a car to the face. Walk away with money. Why and how I got money from a conglomerate of tattoos I don't know. But I got a pin, so that's good enough.
Day one, almost done.