Being a Better Writer: Assembling Chekov's Armory ... and Tossing the Match [Part 1] · 2:21am Oct 23rd, 2013

Alright, today's topic is going to be a little different. To start off, I have two video clips for you. One of them is (fortunately enough) available on youtube and partially visible below, while the other will only be available to those of you with complete DVD collections. In fact, if you own the film from this first clip you might as well go watch the clip there as the youtube clip doesn't fully encompass the total of what I'll be discussing here.

In any case, here's the first clip:

Pirates of the Caribbean: Smithy Fight

Unfortunately, this clip doesn't include the two or three minutes of this scene, which are relevant to the discussion in question, so if you own this film, I'd recommend pulling it out now and giving the whole thing a look from the moment Jack steps into the shop.

Now the second clip isn't available on Youtube, so instead you'll just have to satisfy yourself with this image if you don't own the movie in question:

This image is of the set for the famous "Flying Wing Fight" from the film Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. If you own this film, take it out and watch that particular scene in it's entire glory at this time. Then, if you can, watch the rest of the movie. 100% worth it.

Alright. With both of these scenes in mind, I'd like to step into today's topic: the art of building a great set, and then destroying it. I asked you to watch each of the scenes above because each is an incredibly well done example of giving the audience and entire Chekov's Armory and then spending the next few frantic moments gleefully firing each and every one of those guns off in a rapid-fire scene that leaves the audience feeling exhilarated and satisfied.

For the uninitiated among us, Chekov's Armory is a title given to a whole host of what are known as Chekov's Guns. The principle of the Chekov's Gun was coined by short story writer Anton Chekov, who described as follows:

If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it must absolutely go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there.

To wit—if it's not essential, do not include it in your story. If you mention a woman's purse, then it's expected that somehow, in some way, this purse will be relevant at some future point.* Especially in the short story. If something is mentioned, it should be in some way a part of the story. Where a Chekov's Armory comes in is when you have a scene that exists solely for the purpose of introducing a large number of these "guns" and then quite often firing them off either through the course of the work or—more commonly—shortly thereafter.

*Please note that a Chekov's anything is a separate matter from straight foreshadowing. Although the two may intersect and overlap, what is a foreshadowing may not necessarily be a Chekov's Gun. A foreshadowing can simply something hinted at by the author, while a Chekov's Gun is an item, a skill, or something tangible. In reference to the Raiders scene, the foreshadowing would be another character in the film mentioning that they would fly the titular Ark to Berlin once they recovered it, while a Chekov's Gun in the scene is the fuel truck sitting off to one side, or the plane itself with its engines running.

Just because we're writing doesn't mean that we won't make use of the same conventions (after all, the term itself arises from literature). So although both of the examples I've given are from film, both of them have principles of design that can—if properly applied in one of a few ways—do quite a bit for your writing. Especially if you're writing an action-adventure work and you want some extra "oomph" to your action scene, make sure that you've properly set up an armory. Not only will it add spice to your writing, but it will engage your reader deeper in your own story as they spend time "guessing" at the purpose of your armory.

For simplicity sake, we're going to look at this first from a direct, single scene basis—i.e. a written scene in which the guns are both introduced and used over the course of an action sequence. There's nothing that prevents you from stretching an armory out over a longer length of time mind you, but right now we're interested in a single scene. So, we're going to construct for ourselves a fight scene, from start to finish, and make use of the principles shown in both the scenes above to flesh it out with some chekov action as well as a few of the writing tips I've mentioned in previous blogs.

First, we think of our setting. In this case, we'll start with a classic—a bar inhabited by miscreants. Your setting can be whatever your plot desires (although don't be afraid to subscribe slightly to the "rule of cool" to give it that extra punch), but whatever your setting will be, you'll need to flesh it out in your mind beforehand, because a Chekov's Gun isn't a Chekov's Gun if it isn't in place already. Look at your scene and form a plan for what guns you'd like to introduce and establish. So, in our example, I'm going to have a seedy bar as the setting. My guns will be the lanterns hanging along the walls (great for smashing AND fires!), a long table at one end of the room that's a little off-balance (if heavy), an overhead porch on one side of the room, an unloaded crossbow hanging behind the bartender (sure to grab the readers attention), a few enchanted, just above head height, torch-poles, drinks behind the bar, and of course some tables and chairs.

So I have my setting, I have my guns. Now I just need to introduce them to the reader. Both Raiders and the Smithy fight do a wonderful job with this by presenting to their audience all the elements of the armory at the very beginning while the scene moves forward. Sparrow, for instance, walks into the smithy and pauses for a moment to take a look around, which gives us our view of the workshop—and its guns—from his perspective. Even better, when he moves forward, the shot also pans the camera to give you a look at a simple cart in the background, which will later become important. The Raiders scene does something similar with a long establishing shot that gives you a complete view of the airfield and every last one of the guns (although to be fair, in this case everything in the scene is a gun except for perhaps the radio equipment at one end of the field).

So, let's give this a shot!

Blade shoved the door open, cold air rushing over her back as she stepped into the inn, patrons looking up in mild disinterest at the minor disturbance. She stood in front of the doorway for a brief moment, feathers on her shoulders ruffling in the icy breeze that was whipping through the door behind her, then kicked the door closed with her back leg. The thud it made as it slammed shut was just loud enough to block out the groaning of the frozen ocean around them, but even as it faded a faint whistling sound could still be heard, a faint tendril of cool tracing its way across her hindquarters as it squeezed around the loose doorjamb.
She stepped forward, acutely aware of the eyes still lingering on her from some of the bar's patrons. Despite the building's squat exterior, the inside was more roomy than she'd expected, opening up into a large, two-story interior space that eased her initial impression of cave. Almost. The thick beams overhead didn't appear to be doing much for the slanted roof, and the dirty windows running along one side of the room were encrusted with ice and dirt. The lanterns hanging along the walls of the room were doing a decent job of lighting the ground floor with it's haphazard mix of customers, but aside from a few dingy lights running up the stairs at the back and two torches on the upper porch, there wasn't much in the way of light that was making its way to the top of the room. It was almost like being underground. She tightened her wings against her sides as she stepped further in.
The rooms collection of tables was spread almost as haphazardly as its selection of customers, scattered at random across the inn's floor, and she was forced several times to step around tables on her way to the bar on the far side of the room. Patrons gave her suspicious glances as she passed, pausing in conversation or with drinks halfway to their lips until they'd sized her up. They were mostly rough-looking earth ponies, many with visible scars and tattoos, but she could see a few wings here-and-there folded behind chair backs or stretched lazily towards the ground marking the occasional pegasus. She noted that like the earth ponies, many of them were sporting scars or tattoos. A few ponies were even wearing armor.
The room was wide enough that the light from the lanterns clearly wasn't enough, and she passed a few head-level lantern poles that had been set out between tables, noting as she did so that like the tables there was little obvious order to the arrangement, and a few of them were even out. None of them had fallen over though, or if they had the clientele had been at least cautious enough to place them back upright.
The murmur of conversation began to pick up once more as the crowd acclimated to her presence, slow at first, but picking up in pace as she neared the bar. The bartender, a dark-red coated earth pony with a cup for a cutie mark, was wiping a glass with one hoof and putting on a show of looking up and being surprised to see her, although she knew he'd been watching her since she'd walked in and had looked down only as she had rounded that last battered table. Several empty bottles sat in front of him, although she couldn't tell what they might have been filled with.
"Hi," she said, noticing the lack of seats in front of the bar as she stopped. Apparently this wasn't the kind of place where you sat and chatted for a while unless you had business.
"What d' you want?" the bartender asked, slurring his words together as he looked back down at the glass he was polishing. He was short and slightly chubby, and the disparity between his smaller build and her own height made her feel as if she was towering over him, even across the bar.
"I've heard you stock griffon drinks here," Blade said, looking up from the bartender and running her eyes across the wall of drinks behind him. Hanging on the wall behind him, just low enough that somepony would only see it up close, was an old griffon crossbow, its heavy wooden stock well-polished in an apparent anathema to the rest of the bar. The metal looked a bit battered and slightly worse for the wear, but there wasn't a sign of rust on it. It was, however, unloaded.
"I do," the bartender said, still not looking up at her. "You want something?"
"Depends," Blade said, giving her head a half-turn so she could see the rest of the bar. While there was a murmur of conversation still rolling around the interior, it wasn't hard to see that a large portion of the patrons were trying quite hard to pay attention to what she was saying. She felt her ruff start to rise and she bit down on the reaction, forcing herself to appear cool. After all, general suspicion was just curiosity. No harm done, right? She turned her head back towards the bartender, noting as she did so that one group at the long table on the far room from the bar seemed particularly interested in her. Or at least, one member of the group, a yellow earth pony sporting a jarring set of green facial tattoos, did. "Depends," she continued, looking at the bartender once more, "on what you have to offer."
"I've got a few bottles of Skykicker—"
"I'm not interested in drinks," Blade said quickly, cutting him off with a clack of her beak. "I hear you rent out rooms here, is that correct?"
"Yes," the pony said after regarding her for a moment.
"And you carry several kinds of griffon drinks, which means you must have griffon customers, right?"
"Maybe." An eyebrow rose now. "You looking for somepony?"
"Maybe." The two stared at one another for a moment, and there was a small lull in the conversation behind them as those listening in quieted down, straining to hear nonexistant words. Professional they ain't, Blade thought as she brought her talons up and tapped them on the wood of the bar.

Whew! Ok! So there's our establishing shot, and I managed to work every one of my guns into that opening scene without drawing much attention to any of them. Even better, the one that I did draw attention to was the obvious crossbow, and now my reader's attention is on it. Which, going back to my previous blog post on misdirection, gives me a lot of room to play with the rest of the scene because now I know exactly where my readers attention is going to be fixed.

So, the guns are primed. Now lets have an inciting incident and fire a couple!

"Well," the bartender said after a moment, looking back down at the glass in his hooves. "I probably can't help you with that if you are looking for somepony. I don't get out much."
"Something tells me that doesn't matter much," Blade said, reaching back into her bag and pulling out a small handful of Equestrian bits. "Besides, I'm not looking for somepony. I'm looking for a someone and a somepony." The bartender paused as the bits clattered against the bar, and once again the bar quieted. She gave the bartender long enough to notice that the coins she'd dropped were ten bit coins, caught the slight intake of breath as he realized what she was offering. "Shouldn't be too hard to jog your memory for either of them. First ones a griffon. Older guy, grey feathers with a dark brown coat. Couple of scars." The bartenders hoof kept wiping the glass but she saw the slight widening of his eyes at her description. He knew him. She slid half the pile of bits across the bar towards him.
"The other is a bit more nebulous," she said, tilting her head slightly. "I don't expect you to know who it is ... but! I'll leave you the other half of the pile just for a good hint. Clear?"
The bartender's eyes widened again, his hoof slowing as he looked down at the pile. There were at least six coins left in the pile, ten-bits each. More than a days wages for most, especially in the north. She'd have to be extra careful when she left, make sure no one followed her to "relieve" her of her coin purse. The bartender nodded slowly, his polishing increasing in speed.
"Good," Blade said, sliding the bits a little further toward their siblings on the far side of the bar. "I'm looking for a unicorn—"
The bartender stopped polishing the glass, his body going stiff as he looked up at her. Behind her, the bar had suddenly gone silent, every murmur dying down into complete silence.
"You need to leave," the bartender said, his face hard as he set the glass down. "Out." His eyes darted back, towards the crossbow hanging behind him. "Now—"
"Who's asking about a unicorn?" a voice rang out from the back of the inn. Blade turned as the voice rang out again. "Was that you, feathers?" It was the yellow earth pony with the lurid face tattoos that had been staring at her before. He sneered as he spoke again, his voice a nasally tang. "You askin' after a unicorn?"
"Yeah, why?" Blade asked, her voice low as she shifted her weight, hoping the pony wouldn't notice her actions. She could see the eager glares being exchanged between the members of the ponies table, grim smiles erupting on their faces as they looked at her and then at one another.
'You hear that boys?" the pony called as he hopped from his seat. He grinned, a mouth of crooked teeth split by wide gaps. "She's looking for a unicorn," he said. The inn filled with the sound of chairs scraping back as the entire table moved to stand, a few of it's members chuckling as they rose. Several reached under the table, pulling out small hoofblades and grinning as the metal reflected in the lanternlight. "You know what the Captain said about anypony that's lookin' for a unicorn, right?" The group laughed as it began to moved forward, other patrons pulling back, but a few of them eyeing the bag she'd pulled her bits from.
Seven, nine, eleven, Blade counted as the group began to move across the floor towards her, the yellow pony in the lead. His cutie mark was hard to identify, a scar in the shape of a horseshoe having been branded over it. She stepped back, bracing a paw on the bar and tightening the muscles in her wings. Get ready...
"Just not your day, feathers," the lead pony said as he came closer. A blade glinted on his hoof as he smiled at her, leaned back and—
Now! Blade leapt forward, pushing off of the bar and spreading her wings as she raised her talons. Her target had just enough time to look surprised before her palm slammed into his forehead, her blunted talons still sharp enough to scrape bloody tracks on his face. The stallion let out a shriek of pain, his compatriots freezing in momentary shock as she shoved their leaders body back at them.
Then the bar exploded, patrons jumping from their seats at one another as if some unspoken command had been given. The yellow pony's friends rushed forward, and Blade quickly ducked back, lashing out with her wings and dulled claws as the inn's customers turned on one another. She brought her elbow down on the head of one of the ponies attacking her, sliding it to one side and then snapping her arm out and flinging his body back towards an armed mare, who stumbled over him as their bodies collided. She brought her talons up, whipping them across the foreleg of another attacker and inwardly cursing their current lack of cutting power as the talons slid off a simple metal protector.
More ponies closed in and she spun, flaring out her wings and pushing off of the bar, grabbing one of the empty bottles as she flew up towards the second level. She tucked her legs tightly against her body as she went over the rail, alighting on the bare wooden porch and turning to watch her opponents reactions. Several of them were heading for the stairs, while a pegasus had spread his wings and flown up below the rail behind her, but seemed to be waiting for his fellows to come at her from the side.
Big mistake, Blade thought as the door next to her opened. A dark blue minotaur rushed out of the room and past her towards the railing, bellowing as he held his mace in the air over his head. She smashed the empty bottle over his head, smiling as the glass tinkled, and then shoved her shoulder into the minotaur's back, using what was left of his own momentum to shove his now limp body over the rail. The pegasus below had time for only a startled squeak before the minotaur crashed into him, carrying him down to the floor with a heavy slam that rattled the entire inn and took out two other brawling ponies.
Blade spun to her left as the first of her attackers rounded the landing and rushed towards her, angry yells rising as the porch shook underneath her. The first pony lunged, his small blade held in front of him like an avenging spear, and Blade sidestepped, grabbing his outstretching limb and pulling him forward. There was an echoing thud as the stallion's head impacted the still open door behind her, and he was down for the count.
Blade leapt back again as the next two attacked her as one, both mares with matching mane-colors and styles. Both were wielding large, awkward cleavers that looked more threatening than practical, although the heavy chip of wood that flew from the railing as Blade ducked under an sloppy slash confirmed that they were at least sharp. She snapped a wing out, catching one of the mares in the chest and knocking her back even as her sister stepped forward. Blade stepped back again, ducking away from another chopping blow.
I need a—that'll work, she thought, ripping one of the lanterns from the wall and smashing the thin metal and glass casing into the mare's face as she looked up. The mare let out a shriek as the burning fluid swept over her body, stumbling backwards into her sister as she beat at her face with her hooves. Blade darted forward, scraping up the mare's weapon and swinging it laterally, knocking aside the other mare's weapon and then reversing the motion, hitting her foreleg with the back of the blade and knocking the weapon free of the mare's hoof. Blade dropped her own stolen blade, pushed forward and ... two more ponies fell backwards off of the balcony.
A stabbing pain erupted in her right flank and she lashed out with her other leg, kicking away and earth pony that had come at her from behind. More ponies were boiling up the stairs, and she spread her wings, aiming for the far side of the room as she took wing.
Shouts and yells filled the air as she glided across the room, although the lone knife that flew up at her was too ill-aimed to do anything bu clatter harmlessly from the roof. A scream from below as it fell back down though, hinted that at least it had done something on the way back. Blade tucked her wings in as she landed on the long table at the far end of the room, her dull talons scraping against the heavy wood as she tried to kill her speed. She brought her head up to see ponies already rushing at her, cups and knives held in hooves or teeth. Behind the bar the bartender was visibly struggling with the crossbow, apparently having trouble even getting it in the proper position to load.
Blade reached out over the side of the table, noting the way it pitcher precariously underneath her as she did so, and wrapped her talons around on of the lantern poles. Yanking it towards her and spinning just as the first of her attackers moved to jump onto the table with her. The pole shook in her hand as it slammed into the ponies head, knocking him backwards and out of sight as the rest of the group rushed over him. The table tipped alarmingly below her as several tattooed ponies jumped onto it with her, and she flared her wings as she reared up, working the lantern pole in her talons like a quarterstaff.
A heavy, off-balance quarterstaff, she thought as she swept one pony from the table with a bang, blocking a knife with the other end as she did so. The poles crude legs tangled against the pony, and she shoved back, forcing Blade to flap her wings to keep the table from tipping underneath them.
Unless... she thought as she shoved the pole forward, pushing her full bodies weight behind it. The trio in front of her stumbled back, first as she put her whole weight against them and then as the table began to tip underneath them. The three of them crashed into the ground with Blade on top of them, their legs tangled against the pole. Three hard, rapid blows later, all three were motionless.
"Alright! That's enough!" the bartender yelled as he raised the crossbow, aiming it out over the crowd. "I may not be able to shoot all of you, but I can shoot one of you!" The crowd froze as the crossbow played over them, even the two ponies on the stairs. "Now," the bartender said, his expression grim. "Everypony who isn't a Bloodhoof or this stupid griffon here clear out!" The door crashed open as the few remaining ponies broke up their scuffles and ran out the door. It hung open for a moment before swinging slowly shut. Blade drew her legs up underneath her as the crossbow settled on her once more, the point of the arrow gleaming in the lanternlight.
"Alright," the bartender said, jerking his head at the two on the stairs. "I do what you ask, and you don't come down on me, right?"
"Right," a nasally voice said. The yellow earth pony who'd been watching her earlier shoved his way out from underneath an unconscious and bleeding earth pony. He shook his head, glared at her. "And right now what I want is for you to kill her." The bartender nodded, his hoof tightening and ... with a sharp twang like a broken guitar string, the crossbow's string snapped.
For a moment the group froze in stunned surprise, then Blade leapt forward, racing for the yellow pony. The two ponies on the stairs leapt over the railing, closing on her as the groups leader snarled, pulling a knife from somewhere behind one of the fallen ponies. All four of them met at the exact same moment, knives and talons flashing. Blade circled, trying to keep the three off of her while searching for something, anything that she could use as a weapon.
I am never trimming my talons again!, she thought as a knife sparked off of her long claws. Not. Worth it.
The pony to her left stumbled and she lashed out, her backhand cracking against his temple and sending him slumping to the ground. She spun, kicking out with her rear legs and sending one of the other two flying against the wall. He collapsed in a heap. She landed on her hind legs, spun and—the yellow poany crashed into her, slamming her back against the bar and pinning her wings under her. His hooves slammed down on her forelegs, pinning them back against the bar as he leaned in close.
"You picked the wrong pony to go looking for, feathers," the yellow earth pony said, giving her a manic grin. The red tracks of blood she'd left on his face clashed with the green lines of his tattoos, creating a frenzy of mad color. She pushed against the hooves holding her limbs down, but he had leverage, and he shoved her back even harder. "When the captain hears about this, I'm gonna be gold! I mean it!" he said, his words breaking in a crazed laugh. "They'll make me gold!"
Blade threw her free talon backwards, searching behind the bar for something, anything at all that would give her the reach she needed. If I just had my talons, she thought as she stretched, wishing she could just dig the once razor-sharp lengths into the ponies legs.
"But it's too late for you, feathers," the pony prattled on. Blade felt her talons wrap around something. "You're going to die, and then I'll eat your—"
There was a loud thunk, as if something hollow had collided with something very solid, and then the yellow pony's eyes rolled back into his head as he slumped. Blade leaned forward, pushing the pony's body off of her and onto the floor as she stood, the heavy wooden butt of the crossbow clutched tightly in one paw. She let out a long, terse breath.
Then she spun, throwing the crossbow as hard as she could and watching as it smashed into a row of bottles. Juice and broken crash crashed down on the crouched form of the bartender, who whimpered as Blade leapt up onto the bar and leaned down close, her patience burnt for the day.
"Talk," she ordered, hooking a single talon underneath the quivering bartender's chin. "Where. Is. Hain?"

Alright! Now, how was that! Lantern ... check! Pole ... check! Table ... check! Crossbow ... I managed to pull the rug out from underneath the reader with that one and then subvert it a few moments later! Bottles ... check! I used everything in the scene in some form or another.

Now, like or hate the action there, hopefully you see exactly what I was aiming at with the idea of building a set and establishing the armory. For a short action scene, this is a classic method for drawing your reader into the action and seeing the scene as it develops. The next time you're reading an action scene in a story, ask yourself what guns were primed before the action started. Were there any at all. Majority of the time, you'll find that much of what you're reading was actually cleverly established earlier in the scene in order to give you a better sense of the story. An action seen that feels off? Check the chekov presentation. There may not be any.

So, to summarize! If you want an action scene to have more pizzazz, be more engrossing for the reader, check out your armory. Make sure you've set it up in advance, given yourself (and your reader) some foreknowledge of your set. What's there? Then, use your guns as the scene progresses to make the world come to life for your reader. It won't be all you need, but making certain that what your setting up with your "set" is used can go a long way towards setting you apart from simply making it up as you go. You lay the groundwork for a powerful, fun and engaging chapter that will stick with your reader for days to come.

And with that, thus ends part 1 of this guide. Next time, in part 2, I'll talk about this same concept, but stretched over a story at large. See you then!

And yes, I'm a little fried, so this closing is a little abrupt. But my brains oozing out my ears here.