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petrol blue posted:This one gets my vote for tastiest meat. We kill this one last. what the gently caress is this voting thing you're talking about?
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 18:40 |
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# ? Mar 28, 2024 23:24 |
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petrol blue posted:This one gets my vote for tastiest meat. We kill this one last. Well, that's settled then! I'm glad we know that one of the judges' votes is in-- hold on a sec. I have something in my eye: sentientcarbon posted:Thunderdome LXXV: He's Not Quite Dead Oh. Well, then the quantity of fucks given about your opinions can only be discovered via electron microscopy. TL;DR Stories, signups or crits. Otherwise, zip it. (Tip: generally considered bad form to post crits in-thread before judgment.)
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 18:46 |
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lol
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 18:46 |
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ThirdEmperor posted:Holy poo poo don't post that here. Please.
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 19:02 |
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e:
petrol blue fucked around with this message at 19:14 on Jan 13, 2014 |
# ? Jan 13, 2014 19:11 |
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please no please stop this terrible posting please Oh right, you're all fuckwit shitcocking globules of crusted penile effluent who wouldn't know good posting if it had a scary red avatar and was yelling at you to shut the hell up. Which reminds me. MUFFIN BRAWL NOW I need to beat on something that can fight back i am so mad right now Sitting Here fucked around with this message at 19:49 on Jan 13, 2014 |
# ? Jan 13, 2014 19:45 |
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Sitting Here posted:
Sorry, but this is going to have to wait a tiny bit because Muffin done hosed up. Muffin & sebmojo Both of you submitted stories that were far below your caliber. I can't decide which one is better than the other, because they both have major flaws. Namely that both of your character's transitions kind of suck. It's like looking into a bucket of diarrhea and trying to tease out which poo poo belongs to who. Thus, I am declaring an emergency ROUND 2 of your little brawl so that I may better judge your excrement. Muffin vs. sebmojo round 2: We don't get to go home You were headed to the moon but you overshot. Now you're flying out into space and out of fuel. NASA has just informed you that there's no way for you to get back. You're going to die. Radio just cut out. Make it count. No self-loathing or despair. No aliens. Wordcount: 500 Due: Saturday the 18th sometime. It seems you ignore my time zones anyway so just get it in this weekend you assholes.
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 20:25 |
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No regrets! Onward, full steam ahead! Mag7 has posted both his brawl and his week's submission. You owe me 25 cents, Rhino.
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 20:38 |
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When should I expect the next prompt for sign ups since this week is closed already? Great seeing that this thread has been so popular recently! (Maybe not so great for the judges that have to crit, though )
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 21:57 |
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TheRamblingSoul posted:When should I expect the next prompt for sign ups since this week is closed already? The next prompt will come out when the judges pick a winner. also, are you finally going to get your name off the cowards list? http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?list=cowards (user/pass = thunderdome/thunderdome)
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 22:09 |
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TheRamblingSoul posted:When should I expect the next prompt for sign ups since this week is closed already? A day or so. Judgment comes fast, crits come slower. This was a behemoth of a week so might take a little longer.
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 22:13 |
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crabrock posted:The next prompt will come out when the judges pick a winner. Haha, I didn't even know that's a thing. In that case, hell yeah!
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 22:26 |
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All these posts to scroll through and they're not even funny or worth brawling ove-Sitting Here posted:I need to beat on something that can fight back i am so mad right now hey hey you You think only Muffin's good enough for you? He's too busy fooling around with your nemesis. Bring it.
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 22:37 |
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Echo Cian posted:All these posts to scroll through and they're not even funny or worth brawling ove- I am honored and invigorated by your challenge. I accept; I beg only a fair and competent arbiter.
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# ? Jan 13, 2014 22:46 |
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Sitting Here posted:I am honored and invigorated by your challenge. Add handsome in there and you've got me, so I'll do it. Write up to 2000 words of cyberpunk/technoir/space-based near-future sci-fi. Any of those three, interpreted how you want. Writing about violent criminals and street mercenaries (my ouvre, in other words) may get you bonus points but ain't necessary at all. If you write a cyberpunk oppressed housewife story that gets the cyberpunk part across in a way that makes sense, I'll probably like it even more. Deadline is Sunday night. If that's too short, let me know and we can figure something out. so like, write some poo poo Martello fucked around with this message at 00:06 on Jan 14, 2014 |
# ? Jan 13, 2014 23:08 |
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I meant this Sunday night.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 00:06 |
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Everyone's sick of this cyberBUNK bullshit, Martello. I'll brawl you for judgedom, 500 words due thursday night.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 02:07 |
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ThirdEmperor posted:Or I will be forced to brawl you until you're crying like a little baby. Fuggit. I'm bored and everyone else is getting their brawl funsies. Magnificent7. You can do better than that. Brawl me.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 02:17 |
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ThirdEmperor posted:Fuggit. I'm bored and everyone else is getting their brawl funsies. A CONTENDER APPEARS! I shall judge this. Your prompt is to tell me a story. 500 words. It's due next week Monday 11:59 EST! GO ...WAIT!!! Your rule, gentlemen. Your story cannot start at the beginning, nor finish at the end.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 02:28 |
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ReptileChillock posted:Everyone's sick of this cyberBUNK bullshit, Martello. I'll brawl you for judgedom, 500 words due thursday night. How will they know what their prompt is, weirdo? Will it change if you win?
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 02:43 |
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ThirdEmperor posted:Fuggit. I'm bored and everyone else is getting their brawl funsies. Here is my commitment this week. I'm going to use WriteOrDie to write 500 words every night. They are going to be packed with description, since I suffer from "White Room Syndrome" in my stories. Every night. 500 words of over bloated description to get some perspective in my poo poo writing. I'll pick the least suckass of the collection and submit it to your brawlfetish. Fine. Thank you for pushing me out of my comfort zone* * doing nothing at all. quote:Your rule, gentlemen. Your story cannot start at the beginning, nor finish at the end. magnificent7 fucked around with this message at 03:06 on Jan 14, 2014 |
# ? Jan 14, 2014 03:03 |
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Martello posted:How will they know what their prompt is, weirdo? Will it change if you win? that's the idea!!! if I have to read another fukken cyberJUNK story i will srsly barf in my own mouth and then eat it
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 03:31 |
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I'm not gonna tell you how to brawl, but to do just that, sounds like an absolute crap idea. Don't spew out stories like literary diarrhea. Take some time and polish your stories, edit and re-edit. If they're unsalvageable, figure out why and don't make the same mistake twice. If they're flat, inject some life. Thunderdome is a harsh place and you must be harsh on yourself more than anyone else.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 03:35 |
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ReptileChillock posted:that's the idea!!! if I have to read another fukken cyberJUNK story i will srsly barf in my own mouth gently caress off bitch we can brawl for whatever else. making echo chamber and making GBS threads rear step outta their comfort zones. It's what THUNDERDOME is about
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 03:46 |
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cyberpunk is the bitcoins of literature
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 03:48 |
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you're the Pawn Stars of humanity
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 03:54 |
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But seriously shut up and either write or don't post.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 03:56 |
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Rhino and I have passed our thoughts onto sentientcarbon. Results whenever he wakes up and writes the post. Also holy gently caress you idiots wrote 40+ stories and at least 30 of them are science fiction, biblical, or biblical science fiction. Jesus Christ I am so sick of robot god stories right now.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 04:19 |
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"How dare you write about medical and technological advancements in a world without death!"
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 04:39 |
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Oh god, I'm sorry. I take it back. Being original or interesting and trying to take a premise anywhere but the most obvious place is just too difficult.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 04:43 |
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magnificent7 posted:I'm like Carlito. I keep trying to get out, but you keep pulling me back in. That was Michael Corleone.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 04:57 |
Captain Trips posted:That was Michael Corleone. Well, since I'm pretty sure that poo poo posting is not allowed in the Dome, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you're asking for a brawl. In which, I will oblige you. Shall we say something related to the Mafia, due in by this time next week? Or are you going to bitch out and make some poo poo posts like the lovely poster you are?
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 05:00 |
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Captain Trips posted:That was Michael Corleone. edit: well goddamn. I suppose it's in both. magnificent7 fucked around with this message at 05:08 on Jan 14, 2014 |
# ? Jan 14, 2014 05:05 |
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crabrock posted:Muffin & sebmojo 479 words Jim Spaceman tapped the fuel gauge. The fuel gauge which showed how much fuel he had was pointing towards ‘low’ which meant his fuel was very low. “Oh dear,” he said to himself. “I am nearly out of fuel.” Verily, he was! The radio had ceased transmission, and Jim was struck by the sudden lack of candour. "Friends!" he said unto the empty air "though we have parted, I hear you in my heart! Such sweetness you brought. Oh, but a flower plucked too early smells only the sweeter!" Luckily he was flying in his space ship through a patch of space that was full of space rocks that had space houses on them. They drifted by outside his space ship like grey pitted golf balls with space houses on them. “Hello in there,” he called through his radio after first depressing the radio call button. “Hello in there,” he said again. From the houses came no reply. Jim wondered by whom they had been abandoned, and why. Their windows stared at him in the manner that eyes would stare at him. He would not be alone for this final tranche of his journey into death. The last lonely eschatonaut would drift his last through the suburbs and flower beds of joyous decay. Suddenly, there came from a window a haunting sound. It reminded Jim of honey, ash and love. "Shut up bro I'm watching TV," it said. "Comely maiden!" cried Jim into his space intercom, "I must know you!" Jim activated the thruster button of his space capsule, flicking up the polycarbonate plastic protector shield and pushing down on the red button labelled ‘thruster’ before realising that he was out of fuel and the thrusters were unable to provide thrust without fuel. Hastily he put on his space suit. He opened the airlock by turning the key labelled ‘open airl ck’, noting in passing that the ‘o’ had worn off the ‘open airlock’ sign. In a few minutes he was in space. He alighted upon the space rock, and walked towards the house. The haunting sounds of rugby came from within, presumably coming from a television set, as it would do difficult to play rugby inside such a small domicile without causing significant damage. Jim knew what he must do to woo his love. He began to pound a seductive rhythm upon the walls, then let loose his heart's song. It was "Too Drunk to gently caress" by the Dead Kennedys. At that moment the space door opened and there standing in the doorway of the space house was the most beautiful woman Jim had ever seen, wearing a spacesuit. The spacesuit had a shiny visor. The woman beckoned Jim Spaceman inside and he entered the space house. And he lived there in that house until he died, 34 years later.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 05:13 |
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I worked really hard on this I hope it's ok. Jim Spaceman’s Adventure and the Fuel 479 words Jim Spaceman tapped the fuel gauge. The fuel gauge which showed how much fuel he had was pointing towards ‘low’ which meant his fuel was very low. “Oh dear,” he said to himself. “I am nearly out of fuel.” Verily, he was! The radio had ceased transmission, and Jim was struck by the sudden lack of candour. "Friends!" he said unto the empty air "though we have parted, I hear you in my heart! Such sweetness you brought. Oh, but a flower plucked too early smells only the sweeter!" Luckily he was flying in his space ship through a patch of space that was full of space rocks that had space houses on them. They drifted by outside his space ship like grey pitted golf balls with space houses on them. “Hello in there,” he called through his radio after first depressing the radio call button. “Hello in there,” he said again. From the houses came no reply. Jim wondered by whom they had been abandoned, and why. Their windows stared at him in the manner that eyes would stare at him. He would not be alone for this final tranche of his journey into death. The last lonely eschatonaut would drift his last through the suburbs and flower beds of joyous decay. Suddenly, there came from a window a haunting sound. It reminded Jim of honey, ash and love. "Shut up bro I'm watching TV," it said. "Comely maiden!" cried Jim into his space intercom, "I must know you!" Jim activated the thruster button of his space capsule, flicking up the polycarbonate plastic protector shield and pushing down on the red button labelled ‘thruster’ before realising that he was out of fuel and the thrusters were unable to provide thrust without fuel. Hastily he put on his space suit. He opened the airlock by turning the key labelled ‘open airl ck’, noting in passing that the ‘o’ had worn off the ‘open airlock’ sign. In a few minutes he was in space. He alighted upon the space rock, and walked towards the house. The haunting sounds of rugby came from within, presumably coming from a television set, as it would do difficult to play rugby inside such a small domicile without causing significant damage. Jim knew what he must do to woo his love. He began to pound a seductive rhythm upon the walls, then let loose his heart's song. It was "Too Drunk to gently caress" by the Dead Kennedys. At that moment the space door opened and there standing in the doorway of the space house was the most beautiful woman Jim had ever seen, wearing a spacesuit. The spacesuit had a shiny visor. The woman beckoned Jim Spaceman inside and he entered the space house. And he lived there in that house until he died, 34 years later.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 05:14 |
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whoa what are the odds
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 05:15 |
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Captain Trips posted:That was Michael Corleone. Meinberg posted:Well, since I'm pretty sure that poo poo posting is not allowed in the Dome, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you're asking for a brawl. In which, I will oblige you. Shall we say something related to the Mafia, due in by this time next week? I WILL ALSO OFFICIATE THIS MOTHERFUCKING BRAWL Your prompt, you idiot newbies. The Amish Mafia You have 500 words and one week. Make it happen you lovely humans.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 05:19 |
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Mercedes posted:I WILL ALSO OFFICIATE THIS MOTHERFUCKING BRAWL Um, okay I guess.
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 05:21 |
Mercedes posted:I WILL ALSO OFFICIATE THIS MOTHERFUCKING BRAWL Let's do this!
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# ? Jan 14, 2014 05:25 |
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# ? Mar 28, 2024 23:24 |
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sebmojo posted:Jim Spaceman’s Adventure and the Fuel This is a good story. I totally felt the tension of being stranded in space. There was a clear goal [get to space woman], a clear obstacle [no fuel], and a clear resolution [they lived happily ever after]. I really like how you handled the sci-fi stuff. It felt very real--like I was watching a Michael Bay summer blockbuster about a spaceman lost in space in his space ship. Kudos. This may be what you needed to push you over the top. SurreptitiousMuffin posted:I worked really hard on this I hope it's ok. I WILL NEVER GET THIS STORY OUT OF MY HEAD. I WILL NEVER FEEL NORMAL AGAIN. I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO OBSERVE A CHILD LAUGHING AND FEEL JOY. MY WIFE’S EYES LOOK DEAD AND HOLLOW INSIDE. SHE CAN SEE THE MONSTER YOU HAVE TURNED ME INTO. SHE KNOWS THAT THERE IS SOMETHING IRREVERSIBLY CHANGED IN MY SOUL. MY CONSCIOUSNESS IS DOG poo poo. MY PARENTS JUST CALLED AND I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO SPEAK: MY VERY ESSENCE REEKS OF FAILURE AND DECAY. THEY HAVE WRITTEN ME OUT OF THEIR WILL. THERE IS NO GOING BACK TO A TIME BEFORE HAVING READ YOUR HORRIBLE ODE TO HUFFING RAT POISON OFF A DIVE BAR TOILET. WITH ALL THE DRILLS IN THE WORLD I COULDN’T TREPAN MY SKULL ENOUGH TIMES. I’D HAVE TO REMOVE MY ENTIRE FRONTAL CORTEX WITH A RUSTY SPOON UNTIL I WAS NOTHING BUT A WRITHING PILE OF CORPULENCE ON THE FLOOR TO REGAIN MY DIGNITY. I SAY THIS, A MAN WHO HAS MASTURBATED TO TUBGIRL, IN PUBLIC. THIS IS THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED, AND I’M HAPPY I LIVE IN A COUNTRY WHERE I CAN EXERCISE MY RIGHT TO OWN A FIREARM, BECAUSE RIGHT NOW IT’S THE ONLY THING THAT GIVES ME SOLACE. I DON’T EVEN CARE IF MY SPIRIT IS TOO ROTTEN TO GET INTO HEAVEN. AN ETERNITY OF BURNING IN HELL IS PREFERABLE TO BEING ASSOCIATED WITH YOUR STORY. THE GUN BARREL IS COOL AGAINST MY TEMPLE; I AM SWEATING. I FEEL ILL. I NEED TO BE FREE. judgement post Muffin wins. Will post crits of your other stories later when i am resuscitated. crabrock fucked around with this message at 06:31 on Jan 14, 2014 |
# ? Jan 14, 2014 06:20 |