Промпт сториборда: Комедия шпионского триллера
Краткое описание
Нарративный промпт для много-панельного сториборда комедийной сцены шпионского триллера: агенты наблюдают за пригородным папашей, ищущим молоко в холодильнике.
Текст промпта
Раннее утро. Полная тишина. Гипер-serious spy thriller vibe. Sleek black SUV idles outside a quiet suburban house. Два “tactical” мужчины в earpieces whisper intensely. “Target is inside.” “Movement in the kitchen.” “Stand by.” Внутри дома— Папа в sweatpants стоит перед fridge, staring into it like it contains classified secrets. Cut back outside. “Subject has opened the cold storage unit.” “Thermal spike detected.” Внутри он достает молоко. Трясет. Понюхает. Делает гримасу. Снаружи один агент squints at a tablet. “He’s analyzing chemical integrity.” Дверь creaks open. Папа выходит на porch в mismatched slippers, чтобы взять newspaper. Оба агента snap alert. “Target exiting the compound.” “Visual confirmed. He looks… unstable.” Папа awkwardly машет им. Они freeze. Он squints. “You guys DoorDash?” Beat. Они смотрят друг на друга. Внутри SUV третий “commander” barks через radio: “Abort. Wrong house. Again.” Агенты медленно опускают sunglasses. Папа shrugs, уходит назад внутрь. Cut to kitchen. Он сидит за столом с cereal. Включает TV. BREAKING NEWS: “International spy ring apprehended after staking out random suburban dad for third straight day.” Он loudly crunches. Молоко капает по подбородку. Он вздыхает. “Finally.” --- End Prompt 26 ---
🇬🇧 Original (English)
Early morning. Total silence. A hyper-serious spy thriller vibe. A sleek black SUV idles outside a quiet suburban house. Two “tactical” men in earpieces whisper intensely. “Target is inside.” “Movement in the kitchen.” “Stand by.” Inside the house— A dad in sweatpants stands in front of the fridge, staring into it like it contains classified secrets. Cut back outside. “Subject has opened the cold storage unit.” “Thermal spike detected.” Inside, he pulls out milk. Shakes it. Sniffs it. Makes a face. Outside, one agent squints at a tablet. “He’s analyzing chemical integrity.” The front door creaks open. The dad steps onto the porch in mismatched slippers to grab the newspaper. Both agents snap alert. “Target exiting the compound.” “Visual confirmed. He looks… unstable.” The dad waves awkwardly at them. They freeze. He squints. “You guys DoorDash?” Beat. They look at each other. Inside the SUV, a third “commander” barks through the radio: “Abort. Wrong house. Again.” The agents slowly lower their sunglasses. The dad shrugs, walks back inside. Cut to kitchen. He sits at the table with his cereal. Turns on the TV. BREAKING NEWS: “International spy ring apprehended after staking out random suburban dad for third straight day.” He crunches loudly. Milk drips down his chin. He sighs. “Finally.”