The Proving Grounds

The Breaker Barracks. Many straight shooters learned their way here.
The Breakers used to come here for target practice. Used to play a little game. See who could bust the most targets in the fewest shots. He’s focused. He’s armed…and he’s off! A perfect shot just happens in a flash. He’s feeling real proud of that show. I almost don’t believe it when he says he passed the Breaker’s Challenge.

That’s Windbag Ranch. Perfect place to work a blade if you’ve got the stomach for it.
Windbag Ranch was built for gathering Squirt Extract in copious supply. Ain’t nothing more healthful. Some folds showed up to make a fast buck with nothing but a knife. Other folks came to train their throwing arms. Still others used the place to test their finest blades. Some Squirts tried to flee on instinct. Slippery little devils. Best to put them away first, before they rile up the others. Least the little devils can’t feel a thing. Kid carves through all of them in a flash. Well the Kid’s gone and struck terror in the hearts of Squirts everywhere.

That’s Trapper Shingle, only place in the City to go to get certified with a Repeater.
No place better than Trapper Shingle for learning to tread light and shoot straight. Trappers had to tread real careful here, else take a nasty fall. They trained themselves by clearing out the targets while not clearing out the floor. Any good Trapper knows never to take a step until the time is right. Best time to pick a new spot was when swapping magazines. Master Trappers got what they needed for a better hunt. The Trappers would have been impressed with how the Kid handled the Shingle.

That’s the Bullhead Court. Folks defended themselves there with shields, not words.
The accused always got a fair shake in Caelondia. Some used to take the Bullhead trial. Survive the Trial without taking a scratch, you’d walk away a free man. A Bullhead Trial taught folks three things: First, a good defense is a good offense. Second, you have to always watch your back. Third, ain’t no Godlike Bull up there going to save you. The smarter ones knew when to step aside…and just let things go. The Kid pulls it off like it was nothing. There’s a hint a pride in his eye when he gets back. And more than a hint in mine.

That’s Zulwood Grove, a nice quiet place to show a musket a good time.
Ever felt a Zulwood gourd? Like picking up glass barehanded. At Zulwood Grove, Marshals learned to make every shot count. The trick was to pop all those nasty gourds without wasting ammo. Most Marshals didn’t get far on their first few tries. Had to catch a bunch of those gourds in a single shot. Funny thing about muskets is that they work best up close. The best of the best cleared the course in just a few shots. Kid probably could have made himself Marshal one day.

That’s the Scrap Yard, where folks got to smash things and call it community service.
I’ll write this up once I re-finish the game (mostly) and get those upgrades.

Slinger Range is where the City’s quickest pistoleers put themselves to the test.
You have to think fast to survive the Wilds, and none thought faster than the Slingers. They could shoot their pistols with the speed of a machine. They knew just when to start shooting…and when to stop. Those pistols could spit out rounds just as quick as you could pull the trigger. Learning to hold your fire could be its own challenge. The Slingers liked to edge each other out using customized pistols. Eventually it all comes down to reflexes. I got to say, Kid’s the fastest shot I’ve ever seen. He blew through Slinger Range like it was nothing.

Over there’s Camp Dauncy, where the Brushers steeled themselves for secret missions.
To prepare for the Wilds, Caelondia’s Brushers practiced at Camp Dauncy. Had to navigate a maze of Pincushions with nothing but a pike. The rules said you couldn’t use any fancy footwork, just your brains and your pike. You had to find a path through the maze as quick as you could. One well-placed throw could take out several of those ugly critters. Health tonics were off limits at Camp Dauncy. They said they made you weak. To prep for the course, the Brushers could modify their pikes however they wanted. There wasn’t time to squash every Pincushion, just the ones in the way. A good enough run at Camp Dauncy could get you promoted to captain on the spot. The Wilds ain’t so scary now are they.

Grady Incinerator’s where we sent off all our trash to be burned. Or be eaten by the Wilds.
Welcome to Grady Incinerator, home of the hottest wings east of Caelondia. In all seriousness, the Incinerator was a dump. And it had a problem with Peckers. Blasted things would swoop in and spread trash all around. Until we started using fire. We couldn’t just torch them all at once, we had to use restraint. It was a dirty job but at least it was quick. Peckers that flocked together were easy pickings. A few modifications to a Fire Bellows could really keep those birds away. Wasn’t any other way to teach those Peckers some respect. Who knows why we fought so hard to defend our own trash.

Boundless Bay used to be a weapons-testing dry dock. Ain’t ever been this dry though.
Caelondia’s armada was a glorious sight, and our ships’ mortars were unstoppable. At Boundless Bay, our navy put those mortars through a rigorous inspection. Had to use Squirts to simulate explosive impact on the surface of the sea. If a galleon mortar couldn’t squish enough Squirts, it was simply replaced. Galleon skippers needed to be patient. Needed to fire at just the right times. A variety of modifications could be used to enhance the power of a mortar. Choosing targets with those mortars was one of the trickiest parts. You could almost see the fireworks over Boundless Bay. Good thing we got to that mortar before the beasts of the Wild learned how to use it.



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About

About the Story

The Bastion Story is a transcription of the narration of the game Bastion by Supergiant Games. It has been painstakingly copied word for word from the game itself, and double-checked with the subtitles files, although there still may be a few typos hiding around. To differentiate itself from a simple copy-pasta, The Bastion Story is an attempt to turn the narration into an actual oral story, like how Rucks told their story to Zia. As such, most of the “story” will be directly from the game, and only a few extra sentences will be included, to add coherence.  These extra sentences are a slightly different shade of color, so it is easier to separate from the narration.

About the Storyteller

The Bastion Story is small project by Imag, a nerd. After completing Bastion, he wanted to share the amazing story with his friends. His plan was to transcribe the entire narration of the game, then tell the story of the Kid and the Bastion while sitting around a campfire at night with friends. Sadly, since the narration is around 3,000 lines long and Imag doesn’t go out if he can avoid it (the sun, you see, it burns him), he can’t. Therefore, he offers his version of the story to the only place that might accept his wasted hours of typing: the internet.  He’s not a very experienced author, though.  He’s never written fanfic or any sort of story, only a few hours spent on role-playing forums.  But he does his best, trying to keep Rucks’ personality alive in his additions, and is open to any constructive criticism.

So enjoy, if you wish.


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