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 in oh, also... I heard some of you guys like the recap things we've been doing? So here is another one. Apologies for the thumps and bumps and other glitchiness! Recap of weeks 163 (museum week) and 164 (food week) For week 163, we discuss Morning Bell, Fumblemouse, Slipup and Thranguy in detail. For week 164, we discuss Froglight, Kurona_Bright  and ZeBourgeoise in detail.
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Nov 24, 2015 02:16
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Nov 24, 2015 02:17
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Sitting Here posted:I heard some of you guys like the recap things we've been doing? So here is another one. Apologies for the thumps and bumps and other glitchiness! I wrote some notes about Food Week stories we discussed, plus one we didn't get to, so here they are. Museum Week folks, you're out of luck: I've talked about you already! Froglight, "Objector in Red" The plethora of paragraph breaks makes for a seriously choppy read. The first lines hark back to "Rural Rentboys" or maybe Dragnet--just the facts, ma'am. They're dull as dirt, exactly what they need not to be. The dialogue between Ivan and Dragana (which goes on too long and repeats itself) is full of graceless exposition, and Ivan's inner thoughts exposit some more. How is this worth the terrible ending that kills Ivan off--rendering the story pointless--after a last burst of exposition that we're specifically told Ivan doesn't remember? The plural formed with an apostrophe ("German's") adds one last bit of insult to injury. Ivan's inner conflict over what he should do for love of his family was a good idea, but its treatment was bungled to a fare-thee-well. ***** ZeBourgeoisie, "Oystermen" A zombie plague story, more or less. To go that road is to start yourself off with a handicap, since zombie plagues are overdone. Might as well write a vampire-werewolf-human love triangle. (You know? I'd read a love triangle in which one of the legs was a wereoyster.) Except for the whole thing where the zombies are also oysters, this doesn't stray far from the expected. The exposition is more a problem: it's delivered super-clumsily through tiny flashbacks as Ivan walks along accomplishing nothing in particular. It's unfortunate Ivan turns out to be a dick since a likable protagonist would have helped a little, but his dickery is understandable--the pull and counter-pull of his conscience and his guilt are the heart of the story and could have been meaningful with better execution. ***** Grizzled Patriarch, "Chew" I don't know what happened here. I do know this is as uncomfortably close to a published work as a certain moustache story from a while back. No kidding Morning Bell couldn't judge it--too much of it echoes the Lanagan. The moral of the story is to leave pastiches for prompts that explicitly ask for them, I guess. The brother-to-brother love and how it finds expression between two chefs is a strong element, and the chef angle is unique to GP, so I can praise that without qualm. I don't care as much for the last paragraph, also unique. Abram mercy-killing his brother with food he made himself: good. Hammering the point home: less good. The poisoned bread is obvious as soon as Dennis blinks and then keeps chewing, and I like the subtlety. The final line: bad. How could Dennis not imagine such a mercy? The question is overwrought and pushes the tone from bleak to melodramatic. ***** kurona_bright, "Crunch" Tense misuse right in the first line. (Should have been "Had she really seen Uncle Patrick" etc.) What did I just read? A desperate rush to submit before the deadline even if the story wasn't anywhere near done, maybe? There's no ending, and I'm reminded of that El Diabolico story about the plumber in the worst way. The use of the food isn't bad. A shame that's beside the point in a story that sets up a mysteeeerious situation and then throws itself off a cliff, making Three Stooges whoop-whoop-whoop sounds all the while. Kaishai fucked around with this message at 01:11 on Dec 9, 2015 |
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Nov 24, 2015 02:28
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In for the pilgrim's path, please.
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Nov 24, 2015 02:41
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in and with the holidays coming up, a 
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Nov 24, 2015 02:45
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Sure, why not. In. I do have one question that seems to have an obvious answer but chatter is pointing in a different direction: does "a new land" needs to be civilization? A lot of folks seem to be gearing up to write fantasy stories about people going from a town to the big city but I feel like the prompt is more open than that.
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Nov 24, 2015 02:54
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:I do have one question that seems to have an obvious answer but chatter is pointing in a different direction: does "a new land" needs to be civilization? A lot of folks seem to be gearing up to write fantasy stories about people going from a town to the big city but I feel like the prompt is more open than that. There doesn't need to be any civilization at all in the new land. The pilgrim character(s) can be the first to set foot on virgin country. One could tell a lot of stories about a situation like that, and I'd love to read a few.
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Nov 24, 2015 03:09
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Nov 24, 2015 03:22
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Nov 24, 2015 04:30
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crabrock posted:After The War for turning in his story way too late, and only after some pressure. If it makes you feel better, your story was not going to win anything anyway (because it is bad (but not bad enough to DM or lose)) Better than I was hoping, or the story deserved. To say thanks, I'll do a line crit for the week's judges on anything they want. Same for Kaishai, for talking me into actually finishing that thing after I'd given up and was literally hunting for a new avatar.
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Nov 24, 2015 04:45
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gently caress it, I'm in. Even with all my schoolwork, I can't resist this. Also, you all should listen to the podcast. It's good.
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Nov 24, 2015 05:38
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Nov 24, 2015 06:53
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Nov 24, 2015 08:40
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Clarification: In case the prompt post wasn't clear enough on this, I'm looking for actual, physical travel. No drug trips. No metaphorical journeys. Take your characters to a geographic destination far from what they have known.
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Nov 24, 2015 19:05
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Startup Week Crits “And top psychics all agree/that the telephone company/will have a brand new service that lets you talk to the dead.” -Weird Al Yankovic, “Midnight Star” 1984 So not exactly a fresh, original idea here, guys. ZeBourgeoisie: I Can't Believe It's Mort! Awful on a lot of levels, but not entirely without charm. DM at best. Weak opening. A single person can't scatter. I don't think that the Djinn actually came through on either part of the wish: definitely not the first part. He didn't wish to become what she loved, he wished for her to love him, and she never did. The other kid may have feared him for a few seconds there, I guess. But Djinns are supposed to be literal and dick you over that way, and this one completely failed at it on the literal level. Mort is strangely okay with this, thoughl Should I know what an Akinator is? Ironic Twist & Tyranosaurus: Extra Time Strong opening. The biggest problem with this one is how thick the dialect is. It's just barely on the right side of comprehensible, but the problem is that you have three different characters speaking, and for each one the only part of their voice that comes through is this thick dialect and so the three voices become identical, indistinguishable. The first of many ghosts. Ventadour: Death Before Bad Reviews Really weak/bad opener. Two extremely silly names as well. 'Diminutive' is pretty much never the right word. 'Almost' is also tricky, often (including here) is just weak. quote:And now, Mrs. Twarda was in the elevator with her, and would remain here for five more floors. Story wise, it's almost a promising setup, but then it literally goes nowhere, with so much anticlimax that it retroactively removes all semblence of conflict or plot. My pick for the week's loser. newtestleper: User Reviews-Ghostview Plus More ghosts. Clever conceit well-executed. Ends a little weak. Almost gets a little story in, even, and manages to find distinct and interesting characters in each reviewer. This wound up narrowly being my favorite story of the week despite its rather glaring flaw of not really, you know, having a plot. Jitzu the Monk-Galen, Free Version Okayish opening. 'douchenozzle' is one word. Misspelling PHLEGM at a critical moment hurts. I thought that “Big Red had looked sanguine as ever” was already a few degrees too cute,. And then you go full meta, several degrees beyond that. No mention seemed like the most fitting punishment/reward for this story's crimes, but we went for DQ-real person fanfic instead. (Could also have gone DQ-trolling/playing to lose as well in my book.) Lazy Beggar: Self-Reflection Middling opening. “no longer accepted I existed” is awkward at best. quote:I too had felt negatively about them; not because of religion, but because I had known each time, at the beginning, that our shared happiness would dissipate. Noah: Just Checking in Weakish opening. Third paragraph has two particularly weak adverbs messing it up. One starting 'Jim smiled' has two semicolon structures in a row. What did I just say in the crit above about semicolons? It goes double for doing it twice in a row. The basic idea is interesting. It sort of reminds me of the dial-a-mom service from Bloom County. More ghosts, or at least fake ghosts. Unsatisfying ending; the ambiguity between fake and real ghosts isn't set up powerfully enough to work. Maybe DM, more likely low middle. Kaishi: What I'm looking for Weak opening, taking a bit longer than I'd want to introduce any characters and a lot longer than I'd want to introduce any conflict. Overall, this was a cute little story (in the good sense of 'cute' this time). I didn't like it as much as the other judges did, but still had it firmly in the top third of stories this week, benefiting from the absence of ghosts and the presence of a more interesting app idea than most of the others. jon joe: Bitten 147? What the hell? Not awful words,in fact pretty good ones, but a story that short that denies its own premises isn't exactly winning. So, we have a lot of magic apps this week, and when you give something like this a 100% success rate, well, you're in that same territory. Which makes me a bit worried for the future health of the narrator's husband. I mean, a 100% accurate love app can't possibly have allowed free will to get in the way or its record would have ended a long time ago, and the app must have known the narrator would never leave him, but it gave her name to the ex anyhow, so I've got to assume it knows he's not long for this world, one way or another. I found it just good enough to forgive the length and get a middling result. SurreptitiousMuffin/Sittinghere: Ex Strong opening, about as strong as you can get without a character. quote:Most of Evan’s personal fund was digital, but there was the strongbox containing a cool million buried in his backyard. Claven666: SLapp Weak opening. The question isn't interesting enough to hold interest through the hugely over-written paragraph between it and the answer. Spending a third of the story on pointing out that the app has a really bad name may not be a good choice, even moreso when you point out that there's a significantly better version of it that should have been obvious. Not sure I buy planes still being flown by hand in this cyberpunk future. Pretty sure cars aren't or someone would have been killed by Slapp in one of those almost instantly. Also, surgeons? Middle, I guess. Grizzled Patriarch: Certified Cool Middling opening. Suicide story, always a crowd-pleaser. Wait, this guy jumped before his crush presses 'no'? Something strange going on midway; he's floating somehow? Okay, this is pretty bad. Plotless, for one thing. I have no idea what's going on where this guy is slowly floating down and yet manages to kill himself by jumping off buildings, but whatever it is, it's more interesting than the MeowMeowBeans app thing and I wish I knew more about it and less about the app. Not the worst of the week, but still a DM. Broenheim & Fuschia Tude: When the Heart Bleeds, It Never Stops Interesting opening. There's a sort of silent-movie feel going on here: I should be annoyed by so much character talking while the story withholds the content, but, at least in the first section, it works. I also don't really care much for the actual bleeding-heart extended metaphor thing itself. I really liked this story, but I didn't care for the last section. Unfortunately, that's the only part that even slightly fits the prompt. And not very well; this doesn't seem like a particularly innovative or even a very good matchmaking app. Breaking the dialog gimmick isn't worth what it gives you; you don't even get a contrast with it between the two guys since the gimmick comes back towards the end. Otherwise you could have maybe gone for some kind of 'this app helps this person communicate on an intellectual level' effect, which might have worked for a happier ending. Could see this DQ-for-cause, otherwise on my HM list. Fumblemouse:: Ask an Angel Okay opening. Another story in which apps download themselves onto people's phones and they don't immediately treat them as radioactive and restore factory settings, but rather open the things blindly. Identity thieves must love living in this week's stories' universes. Liked the Windows phone line. Missing the capital 'W', though. Interesting idea, thought through fairly well. Would have liked to see how it responded to immoral questions (“What is my co-worker's email password”) or ones where the truth would be painful. Strong contender, I think. The only problem is that there's not all that much in the way of character here, and what there is, the relationship between the narrator and Susan, is pretty much completely disconnected from the app part. Schneider Heim:The One Minute Witch Weak opening with some stylistic problems (stacking 'from' clauses on top of each other hurts.) 'professional career' is redundant, especially coming from an interviewer. 'Stuff' is never a good work in descriptive text, at least not without being preceded by a long list of specific things. 'potted plants and jars and jars of stuff' doesn't really work either; it reads as a redundant list of three items rather than two items, one of which is 'jars and jars'. 'some kind of' is weak as well. 'Guarded' is the wrong word. 'bear myself' isn't right either. Who would send their children to a school named after Elizabeth Bathory, anyhow? Low Middle, I'd say. Not as bad as some. After the War: Necromanteion Opening sentence is bloated. At the very least, I'd cut 'the distinctive', maybe name the university? Wait, who's ghost is this, referencing 'your mother' and 'your father' while obviously being one of them? Are there two ghosts on the line? Ah, grandmother. Probably could make that clearer earlier. Feels unfinished. The ending doesn't really resolve anything. I wouldn't generalize from a sample of two, here. These could just be two really spiteful ghosts that happen to be the first to show up. Also, if we're talking 50s/60s/maybe 70s early computing, the military/espionage angle ought to be worth exploring and occur immediately to the programmers. Would have been Middle if it wasn't Dqed for lateness,
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Nov 24, 2015 21:04
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Thranguy posted:Startup Week Crits Thanks for the crit.
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Nov 24, 2015 21:28
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Thanks for the crit, Thranguy!
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Nov 24, 2015 21:48
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Thank you for critting!
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Nov 25, 2015 06:47
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Thranguy posted:Startup Week Crits Man, I really need to learn how to write.  Thanks for the crit.
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Nov 25, 2015 15:56
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Nov 25, 2015 17:01
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Oh and I'm in.
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Nov 25, 2015 19:52
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you can use this i guess: prompt ideas
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Nov 26, 2015 08:04
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In (virgin to TD.. gotta shut up the IRC haters)
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Nov 26, 2015 22:59
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Nov 26, 2015 23:33
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Fuckit, popping my thundercherry and getting deep in this.
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Nov 27, 2015 19:21
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Three and a half hours remain to sign up for your journeys, pilgrims.
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Nov 28, 2015 02:29
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In.
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Nov 28, 2015 02:59
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in
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Nov 28, 2015 03:20
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Nov 28, 2015 03:36
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Thranguy posted:Startup Week Crits Thank you for your measured words!
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Nov 28, 2015 04:41
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Sign-ups for Week CLXXIII are CLOSED! The judges await your tales of distant lands.
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Nov 28, 2015 07:39
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Start-up crits that were started sober but then i got drunk so i wrote drunk crits!!!!!!!! Out of order but gently caress you guys. Look, here's the loving thing about stories, especially flashes, you gotta make me care. I can't think of a single story this week that made me care. You don't have any characters, or imagery, or plot, or loving anything that made me think "man, i want to keep reading." the only reason I kept reading, if I did, was out of some dedication that I should critique the whole thing because maybe it gets good. but it didn't. im telling you, it won't. a good writer knows that the opening is the key to everything, and a good writer will keep my interest the whole way through. if you drop my attention, that means you are bad. that also means that it's very unlikely that you will regain my attention. IF you do get my attention back (that's a big if btw), that doesn't mean poo poo, because your readers that you want (aka the dudes who read lit journals or novels) are not going to keep reading after they are bored, so you're hosed. here's some ways to make me interested. 1) cool images. i like that poo poo. pretty poo poo, hosed up poo poo, interesting poo poo, whatever. do that. 2) cool characters. they want a thing and from the get go they do poo poo to try to get a thing and they try loving hard. 3) a cool plot. something that's unexpected, but like, makes sense in a way. character's gotta pass a test so he goes back in time to learn about everything. good plot. character's gotta pass a test so he studies. gently caress that plot. 4) cool poo poo. idgf what that cool poo poo, but make it cool, and keep it cool. so uhhhh yeah, make me give a poo poo, thanks guys! Grizzled Wow GP, this is… bad. One of the things that I noticed is that part of this feels almost completely stolen from another flash that I read called “The Falling Girl” by Dino Buzzati, the whole him being grabbed and put into another party. It wasn’t that similar, I’ll contend, but it made me immediately think of that.. The issue is that I have no reason to care about Craig. “Oh no all my friends won’t go to my party, I won’t be cool, welp time to kill myself.” wtf. This also has one of my least friends in a story, that is, suicide is cool and good and solves all your problems because in heaven you’ll get what you want! gently caress I hate that so drat much because 1) it’s a copout because it solves the problem so nicely and easily that it’s super satisfying and 2) it’s hosed up wish fulfillment and 3) it glorifies suicide which personally, I think is SUPER hosed up. But yeah, your character is a little baby who’s sad that he’s not popular and we’re supposed to sympathize with him that because he doesn’t have a lot of friends, killing himself was the right answer. gently caress that. gently caress this story. Jitzu Fanfic, yeah. Nor was this very interesting as fanfic. You probably had this idea for a story and then realized you were out of time or didn’t feel like bothering anymore, so you just made it meta and called it good enough (or you were just hoping to make people laugh). To be fair, I did laugh when you got to the meta poo poo (but it was like laughing at rentboys, because it was stupid and made me say “why did you write this”), but then it becomes a question of why all the other poo poo? The beginning doesn’t add to the ending, and the ending doesn’t add to the beginning so why do they coexist? The only thing these two do is that they have the same names of people, but I don’t care. Neither stories work, because the ending is stupid meta poo poo, and the beginning doesn’t work because it’s bleh and doesn’t have an ending to make it satisfying. If you’re going to do a gimmick, stay consistent. ZeBourgeoisie This, right here, is some Rural Rentboys level of so bad it’s good. Well, actually, Rural Rentboys has the making of a somewhat decent story, but this, I don’t know what you were thinking. I think, I’m really hoping, that you wrote this as some kind of joke because it has to be. I’m not going to believe that this is a serious story that you are happy to have your name on. Idk what the gently caress you were thinking. The opening is innocuous, a tad boring and weird and mort’s a big creep, but then it falls off the deep end and makes me wonder WHY WHY OH DEAR GOD WHY DID YOU WRITE THIS. Please don’t put your fetish stories in Thunderdome, there’s a lot of other places that would “appreciate” them. Newt I read this because I saw the gimmick and it works in spite of the gimmick, which is kind of the best thing you can say about gimmick stories. I think one of the issues is that you have certain characters but their voices don’t seem distinct or right for them. Like the teengoth one was a dude trying to get laid and he’s writing an app store review, and it feels like it’s not an app store review but prose. Idk about you, but if I was teenager who bought an app to get laid, I wouldn’t write a review like I was writing a story. Also, the same thing with the brochacho one. That’s a frat dude, and then he explains that moths get on his phone? I don’t see why they bring these things up, actually. The whole part of him explaining about his guy about to get some, yeah, that makes sense. Like, these reviews don’t really make sense sometimes, or don’t seem to be in the spirit of the character your trying to evoke. The Randall_Smithers one does work though because I totally know that character and that is exactly how’d they write. Everyone else is either meh or doesn’t quite fit. Still, not really a story, but at least somewhat compelling. I’m meh on it. honestly, i dont think anything shouldve HMed or won this week. Ironic Trex I didn’t like the accent, I think there’s a way to make accents present but not interfere with the story if your not familar with them. But besides that grievance, which i really don’t want to get into, this story isn’t awful, just meh. I really can’t think of anything to say, which is probably the worst thing you could say. Your protag doesn’t really do much in the story, and he just calls a bunch of people, and then a guy offers to go to a football game and then oh yeah ill go. Mechanically, the story is fine, but I have no real interest in the main character. He seems kinda like a dick, getting mad at his dad for being a ghost which idk, seems something out of his control. Also, his dad’s a dick + kinda stereotypical. Idk, I just didn’t really enjoy this story at all. It didn’t have butter men, but really, I can’t remember anything about this story after I finished it.  Ventadour This isn’t awful, but it’s just a classic “why the gently caress am I reading this” story. I mean, crabby’s little comment on the results post just sums up why this story doesn’t work. Initially, there is kind of a conflict. The girl wants to open up a shop, but there’s another person who has the same style of shop. Then, she decides to open up the shop and talk to the person. She gets the golden oppurtunity to do that, but doesn’t because… I’m not sure why. She’s socially awkward, I guess. That was dumb. Then, the other witch comes up and is like “yeah, we’re cool.” The problem is that, ok, you have a conflict, but the resolution is bad for multiple reason. 1) Your character never really struggles. Who gives a poo poo? She opens her shop, and business is good. 2) Your protag never does things to achieve her goal. She opens her shop, cool, that’s the inciting incident. But then after that, nothing happens. She thinks to herself, saying “I should do this” BUT NEVER DOES ANYTHING. And, going off of #2, 3) The resolution is caused by the supporting character’s action rather than the protagonist’s. This begs the question of why is the protag the protag? Generally, in the story, you want to make a conflict, and then by the end of the story, the character resolves the conflict by MAKING a choice. The key word here is MAKING, a verb, meaning SHE DOES SOMETHING. Your character doesn’t make a choice that causes the conflict to be resolved, and she doesn’t really change. There’s really no point to this story. DRUNK CRITS START HERE Lazy Beggar Ok, now I’m kinda drunk and reading your stories. I hate this. Like, first of all, your dude doesn’t talk like a normal human being. He’s so purple and boring and it’s like gently caress you man, nobody talks like this. he sounds like a loving weirdo. gently caress him. there’s an interesting idea here, i guess, using something so that he always says the right thing, and the plot itself isnt terrible, but fuckkkkkk man, this prose is so lovely and i have no reason to care about this character. like he’s so weirdo who speaks all sophiscated-like, and if i meet him in real life id not like him, so why would i like him now and want him to succeed. gently caress him. I’m happy his, what, fourth wife? left him. he deserved it, rear end in a top hat gets mad about stupid poo poo. Just Checking In, Noah guy Oh i read this first because your one of the OG TDers but the opening kinda sucked and i stopped reading so yeah, now im reading it again. mostly cause its kinda telling and im like gently caress that noise im gonna go watch people play video games! partner as in business partner or like loving in the butt partner? oh man i dont give poo poo about business poo poo. like not at all. oh his g-ma is dead, how sad ;-;. and now she’s a spooky ghost in the app. and now she’s a spooky ghost ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (spooky ghost voice sound). i dont care about the money thing stuff jeez man. his g-ma is dead. why are there more words? i dont want to read this anymore ;-;. i dont care, this was boring, grandma was dead, and i dont care. i dont want to reread this, im just gonna say it was dumb and stupid and your main character isnt likable or interesting or really anything so who cares, im reading the next story. write better next time, thanks. Kaishai aka the winner i hope this is good how do swings hold things w/ resentment, theyre swings, they dont resent anything. they just do their own things, you feel me? of course kaishai has gems in it. why is this guy in a park? wth? im gonna call what happens right now, this guy and girl r gonna fall in love (lol wow that was so loving predictable). why is this dude doing all this poo poo? hes just chilling at a park and now hes like aight im gonna go pick some poo poo up for whatever reason, probably to bone this chick? idk. yeah tbh im not really feeling this relationship. like, the meetup is incredibly contrived since the guy’s just sitting on a park bench and then oh this cute girl shows up and they get along so well lol so cute, feels so idealistic and stupid imo, but i might be projecting here. i really dont feel like i know the protag so i just dont really care at all about either of these two. yeah, honest, don’t care whatsoever. the protag feels completely blank to me, i dont see why i should give a poo poo about this relationship. maybe its just because i was drunk but like, this was so by the numbers. guy meets girl through some stupid coincidence and then they fall in love i guess even though i didnt feel it all, and then he has to move away oh no ;-; and then the girl calls him back yay!!!!! yeah, actually, i do not like this story at all, maybe ill read this sober and be like “omg this is good” but idk this is mediocre at best. wasnt feeling the love, felt like the most artificial, rom com level style of love ever, tbh. if u read any of this poo poo kaishai read this thanks, because like, this is the good poo poo imo (drunk imo, not sober imo). ok im even more drunk now but i want to keep talking about this story because idk. its like why does any of this happen? like who gives a god drat flying gently caress? god honest, i actually kind of drunk hate this story because it’s like, loving insulting man. i mean, the dad one was better because the character actually made loving sense but this is just so generic and boring and by the numbers that i literally feel like i read this one million loving times and the judges are dumb idiots if they thought this was good. your protag is boring as gently caress with no personality, same w/ the girl, so its like, i have no investment in the story whatsoever. maybe this is drunkness talking but this poo poo sucks. id rather have dad story winning than this bullshit. god, i hate this soooooooo much, i know its kaishai and i dont want to say gently caress you but im drunk so im gonna say gently caress you and also say like, hey, put some risk out there. most of the stories i read of yours are always by the numbers and the only reason you keep winning is because you keep the quality of your stories like above average but nothing of yours have ever stood out and made me think like “drat this is a fine rear end story.” its always like “this is a p. cool story with some neat ideas but also plays it so loving safe that it never reaches that top area of stories that are just totally loving rad.” take some risks, go out there, be loving crazy, because that poo poo, that’s what readers love. stop playing it safe, because gently caress safe stories. fail gloriously. stop loving around w/ these boring stupid stories that win because thunderdome shits the bed and write about butter man or whatever the gently caress. win because you wrote a drat fine rear end story that we’d all want to read any day of the week. lose because you wrote some crazy rear end poo poo that loving owns something fierce. thats what i want to see from you. you got the loving mechanics down something fierce, now put that into a story with some loving balls in it. i mean, look at GP, he’s loving going out there sometimes, like this week. or sh. or mojo man. theyre trying new shits, and they fail, but that poo poo, that’s alright. failing as a writer, man, that’s what writing is. you constantly fail. like every single day you fail. and thats cool cause when you fail, that means thats another lesson learned. and that means the next story is only gonna be better, hopefully, maybe. well, maybe not the next story, but, you know, down the line, you feel? hell even your DM i read wasnt bad, but it DMed because that was a harsh week and you played it WAYYYYYYYYY too safe. DM because you tried some crazy poo poo, dont win because you played it safe. that’s my philosophy. thunderdome’s the place to gently caress up. but yeah, kaishai, im rly hoping that the next story i read of yours goes out there. im tired of all this safe poo poo, it bores the gently caress out of me. i dont think ive ever had you as a win in one of the weeks ive had as a judge. so yeah, go balls to the wall, cause i think you can do it. You got it in you, now loving show it to me. jon joe aka the story that is 200 words long. i mean, who gives a poo poo? who is the protag? why should i care? i have no interest in her and her saying “gently caress you” to her ex + the ap doesnt hold any resonance for me since 1) i dont know her and 2) i dont know her relationship 2 the husband. maybe if i knew that, it would be good. this isnt very. its just nothing. thank you for making it short. this would've been my win candidate because it didn't insult me nor did it waste my time. in an ideal world, this would've never been my win candidate, just everyone else was absolute trash. to be honest, the only reason why this is my win is because of the word count. and that is, honestly, the only thing that edges it above every other story. Sitting Muffin or Surreptitious Here w/e you want to be called u horrible amalgamation of lovely writers arent u two supposed to be the pretty prose nerds? why havent i seen any pretty prose yet. wth??? its like, all exposition and no action. c’mon you loving idiots, be good. do i, the dumb idiot, have to tell you that writing from the past lends the plot to have no loving agency because man that’s grade school td poo poo and you’re supposed to be the goddamn teachers, fuckkkkkkkkk. like after that kaishai poo poo that she tries to call a story you guys had loving free range to win this week and you waste my loving time, gently caress you both. what is this bullshit? why do people think money talk is interesting? i dont give a goddamn poo poo. oh the app starting working without his consent, gently caress man, you shouldve seen that trope coming a mile away. this is some dumb “binding of issac” level dumb bullshit that id read on an imgur post and ignore because it is stupid + dumb. ummmm, one question, real quick, why do i give a poo poo about the protag? like, who cares? am i just supposed to care because uhhhhhh i dont care. ARE YOU loving KIDDING ME? ARE YOU, PROBABLY THE TWO VETERAN loving WRITERS IN loving THUDERDOMES, THINK IT’S A GOOD loving IDEA TO PUT loving QUESTIONS IN YOUR loving STORIES? REALLY NOW? WTF ARE YOU TWO THINKING? YOU KNOW THAT THING WHERE TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE? THAT poo poo’S BULLSHIT APPARENTLY BECAUSE TWO HEADS ARE APPARENTLY loving poo poo BECAUSE THE THOUGHT PUTTING THE CHARACTER WITH QUESTIONS LIKE “Was that it? A prank?” WERE SOMEHOW WORTH THE TIME AND EFFORT FOR ME TO READ? gently caress YOU GUYS, JESUS. THAT poo poo IS loving WRITING 101 AND YOU hosed IT UP AFTER loving WHAT, 4 YEARS OF THUNDERDOME. JESUS. Jesus, wtf is with this week. I can understand that a week that says “put a thing in” is bad, but for some reason, it made you put your loving dunce caps on and drool all over the keyboards and think “this is worth the time and effort for my readers to read” and you know what, it isn’t. this isn’t. the resolution is probably that the narrator gets sad and fucks off somewhere, and you know what, I DONT GIVE A poo poo. I’m not reading this trash anymore. I stopped after “Was that it? A prank?” because I’m done being insulted. Make your stories good, and I’ll keep reading it. gently caress you both, this is a worthless story and you should be ashamed of yourselves. Jesus. This is insulting trash. gently caress. I read the last line. I don’t care i don’t know what happened and i don’t care. gently caress all of this, gently caress you two, gently caress thunderdome, fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk everything, nobody shouldve won this week. winning this week is like getting first place in the “most not dead” category of a corpse competition. NEW RULE IS IN STATE IF YOUR STORY DOES NOT RESPECT ME AND MY TIME I AM JUST GOING TO STOP, READ YOUR LAST LINE, AND THEN CALL IT A DAY BECAUSE gently caress YOU IDIOTS. Claven666 So, somehow, muffin and sh weren’t able to keep my attention, but maybe a lesser TDer will somehow perform a miracle that not even the most hardened of TDers will do. are you loving kidding me? more business, money based conflict? seriously, who gives a flying gently caress about all of this poo poo??? jesus. COME THE gently caress ON WHO loving CARES IM FOUR PARAGRAPH IN AND IM INSTATING MY RULE AND IM GOING TO SKIM. Dialogue, dialogue, dialogue, don’t care. Platinum package makes me think of a sliver dick so lol. i just read that one line so w/e Cudgins smiled once more, a predatory curling of the lips that spoke of hunting cat rather than quivering rat. ^ gently caress you that’s garbage idk what the context is but its bad nonetheless. more money talk idk what happened or what the app did but id imagine that i didnt give a poo poo about the characters and that id sigh and say something like “why are your characters boring and stupid and why didn’t you make them care about them” if i did read the story. but i didnt because it bored me after the first four lines so i stopped reading and put it in the trash pile and this’d never be published so, uh, gently caress you i think is the correct term for this. make me interested quicker, k thanks. Fumblemouse, an HM, wow, great work getting second place at the special olympics. lol that opening dramatizes poo poo so much it’s stupid. that wasnt a funny joke, your protag has a bad sense of humor. wtf why does the hm and winner both reference U2, is this some secret td secret ive been missing out on??? jesus wtf is up with people just telling dumb apps personal poo poo for no reason. like “ask it something personal” id say “what does my butt smell like” or something equally dumb instead of something personal poo poo, like c’mon now. UGHHHHHHHH CMON I DONT GIVE A poo poo ABOUT YOUR PROTAG YOU HAVE SO MUCH loving TIME TO MAKE ME GIVE A poo poo BUT I DONT CARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY DO I CARE? WHAT DOES THIS CHARACTER WANT OR NEED THAT I JUST SO DESPERATELY WANT TO READ TO FIND OUT IF HE GETS IT??? A loving GIRL ISNT ENOUGH JESUS loving CHRIST THIS IS loving AMATEUR HOUR IT SEEMS LIKE. if the caps werent enough to signify it, i am now skimming because gently caress you. wtf is this poo poo, this is stupid and dumb and why the gently caress did this HM? this doesn’t have anything going for it. no real conclusion, no real anything. this is bullshit. this is stupid. god this is stupid garbage and THIS loving HMed. THere’s like no point in reading the rest of this week, since this is apparently a loving highlight of boring stupid protag that i dont give a poo poo talks to his phone and his phone says poo poo and he says nah nvm im gonna go do my own poo poo. gently caress you, this is garbage, go gently caress yourself, write A loving CHARACTER I WANT TO SEE loving SUCCEED and ill keep reading next time, thanks! Schenider Heim who cares. why should i care about your protag. exposition. gently caress you. not caring i think the ending has a resolution but i started skimming so idk, this bored me by the first scene break so make that more interesting. thats my crit if you want a drunk broenheim to like ur story. After the war - not reading because gently caress you, im done.
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Nov 28, 2015 11:25
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Broenheim posted:Start-up crits Thanks for the crit.
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Nov 28, 2015 12:54
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Madison Words: 1146 A spider took Madison’s mother from her before she hatched. Her father, Richard, raised her on his lonesome, but he still reared a vibrant, lovely young beetle. Madison adored the oak she and her father called home. Early one overcast morning, however, life decided on a change of pace. The wail of a terrible wind jarred Madison from her sleep. A white bolt streaked across the sky, its ethereal glow rivaling the sun in brightness. Richard yanked Madison from her notch in the wood and together they flew off. As they escaped, a blast rang out and a horrid creak echoed throughout the lawn. The winds died down, and the oak toppled to the ground. Madison rubbed the bark of the fallen tree she once called home. Her father brushed her antennae back. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she laid her head on her father’s strong abdomen. He whispered sweet nothings to her as she wept. The two took off for the spruce at the far side of the lawn that evening. Madison hugged her arms close to her abdomen, occasionally stealing glances at the log that shrank further into the distance. The wind picked up. Madison’s wings burned at the joints as she tried to keep up with her father. She longed to be out of the wind, and to be back at the fully erect oak. She shut her eyes and pretended that this was all a nightmare, and that when she awoke she’d be back at home with a plate of young, dewy leaves waiting for her. Madison snapped out of her daydream when a fierce gust crashed into her. She frantically buzzed her wings to regain control. The winds knocked Madison around, and her wings finally gave in. The sound of her father screaming carried with the wind as it blew Madison away. Madison opened her eyes, surprised to even be alive. She spread her wings to take off, but found them caked in mud. She whimpered and hugged her arms close to her abdomen. She knew that she was as good as dead without flight. She unsheathed her left wing and tried to rub the mud off without taking any scales with it. A sting shot down her body. “Dammit,” she said. Madison sat on a rock and cried. Something would eat her sooner or later. She grabbed a soggy leaf and took a bite from it. It tasted awful, but having something in her stomach helped. A voice whispered from somewhere unseen. “Up here,” it said. Madison looked up, but saw nothing. “I can’t see you.” “Come up here.” “I can’t, my wings are all muddy.” “Just climb.” Madison gripped a flower stem and started upward. The voice hummed a soft, cheerful melody. While Madison still shook with fear, the lovely humming of the voice helped comfort her. She even found herself smiling in spite of the situation. Eight dark pits narrowed themselves at Madison when she reached the top of the flower. Madison yelped and let go of the stem, hoping to fall back to the relative safety of the ground. However, a hairy appendage gripped her arm and pulled her into a silken web. When Madison was learning to fly, her father warned her of spiders. Fearsome beasts with eight eyes and eight legs that want nothing more than to eat you. If you see a spider’s web, steer clear, and always pay attention when you’re flying so you don’t end up as a spider’s meal. The advice, though short, played in Madison’s head like a broken record. The spider tucked her into the web, and began to spin a cocoon around her. “Wh-what are you doing?” “Cocooning you, my darling.” “Why?” “It helps keep all your delectable juices inside.” “Juicies?!” “Your guts and such, dear. I’m going to inject some acid into you, and, well,” The spider leaned in close, her fangs brushing against Madison’s face. “Bon appetite.” Madison quivered. The spider took delight in her meal’s terror. “Please, Miss, I’m not very tasty, and I’m mostly shell anyway.” “How rude of me! My name is Cassidy, and yours?” “Madison.” “What a sweet name. Almost as sweet as you.” “I’m not sweet! No, I’m actually quite bitter.” “Madison, dear, I can already smell your insides. And they smell heavenly.” The spider leaned in close, her fangs already dripping acid. “Could you do me one favor before you eat me, please?” Madison asked. “Of course dear.” “Could you, uh, brush my antennae? My dad always does that when I’m scared or nervous, and it helps a lot.” “Certainly.” Cassidy brushed Madison’s antennae back while humming that cheerful tune. Madison almost relaxed into her cocoon. “You know,” Madison said, “I never had a mother. She was eaten before I hatched, by a spider.” “Is that so?” Cassidy asked in a whisper. “Yeah, but at least I had my dad.” Madison looked down at the cocoon she’d been wrapped in, and then up the spider preparing to consume her. “I wish I could just see him again.” Madison sank back into her cocoon. Her next words didn’t come out easily. “All right. Do it.” Cassidy’s fangs brushed past Madison’s face, moving to her cocooned abdomen. Madison squeezed her eyes shut as the venom entered her body. A liquid fire slushed around her insides, and she had to bite her tongue not to wail in agony. Soon, however, the pain subsided. Madison looked back at Cassidy, lightheaded and vision blurry. “Cassidy.” “Yes?” “Do you think I’ll ever see my father again?” Cassidy leaned in close to Madison. Despite her terrifying appearance, Madison felt no fear. “When I was young, I was told that every insect and arachnid is recycled, reborn into the soil and water. I’m sure, in a way, you and your father will meet again.” Madison closed her eyes, the venom working its way into her brain. Cassidy looked at the melting beetle and began to feed. After she finished with Madison, Cassidy threw the shell to the dirt. A buzzing noise drew close. Cassidy retreated into the darker portion of her web. She had no desire to watch. Richard saw her, lying in the dirt and caked in mud. He instantly recognized the white silk that encased her body. With outstanding speed, he swooped to Madison’s emptied shell. He cradled her close, the same way he cradled his wife. He brushed her antennae back, and whispered sweet nothings to her as he carried her off. He buried her near the fallen oak she’d called home. Days later, he returned to the spot, his life nearing its end. He dug himself a plot next to her’s, laid down, and fell into an endless sleep. Many months passed, life on the lawn having moved past Richard and Madison. Above the two beetles, an oak sapling sprouted.
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Nov 28, 2015 13:11
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Some pro-tier critting
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Nov 28, 2015 16:08
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Broenheim posted:Start-up crits that were started sober but then i got drunk so i wrote drunk crits!!!!!!!! namaste
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Nov 28, 2015 18:08
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Broenheim posted:After the war - not reading because gently caress you, im done. A good life choice.
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Nov 29, 2015 03:37
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Throbbing manliness Rigidness Ultimate expression of manness Pocket rocket Throbbing accumulation of rigid masculinity One-eyed snake Formerly caged viper Mighty sword of Eros Lance of love Holy wand of man juice Throbbing giggle stick Pulsing manmeat Glossy rod of muscle and blood gently caress stem Organ Engorged staff Hungry dragon Cherry splitter Purple headed warrior Blaine-meat Holy wand Throbbing meat wand Rippling/burning sausage Pants weasel Prince Everhard of the Netherlands Doggy lipstick Mayonnaise cannon Wand of Penetration Venom cock Organic crotch gun Purple headed yogurt squirter Throbbing lavender man-fruit thing Sperm shooter Husband’s bulge Bacon torpedo Gristle missile Dark spire Mauve avenger Tantalizingly tree-trunk-girthed Soviet missile MIGHTY MAN NOODLE Slipper sex sceptre Sugar quill Kryptonian meat Meager meat pole Carriage Giant sausage Hairy wolf dingaling Ninja growing rod Pilgrim’s staff Silent flute Pike of pleasure Nimrod the mighty hunter His majesty in purple cap Beloved guest Pleasure pivot Gargantuan blue fire hydrant of a cock Love sausage Horrible wet mushroom Man root Sword Bulging soldier boy Throbbing stick of pleasure The thing that looks like an exclamation point Stump Rockhard fucktool Fishing pole Long pale rod Cherry assassin Communism stick Ivory hardness Turgid member Batter blaster Great silky spearhead of his desire Meat missile Beef bazooka Purple headed womb groom Leaking crown Crimson bird The monk with the big hood Nephrite stem Brave warrior of distant hills Flaccid love truncheon Temptation wand Smooth lust-snake Burrito Flaming man-rod Dragonhood Hardened arousal Love wand Giant man-hood Stick of miracles Spear Muatra Man-carrot DNA Rifle Secret lollipop God’s pinky finger Life muscle Sushi love roll One-eye wonder worm Schlongdoodle (Naked) spam porpoise Throbbing meat truncheon Crotch-dachsund Twinkie Spam blade Mighty lust limb Mighty thundercock Lightning rod Magnetic pillar The South Pole The giraffe neck Ladyfinger Shell-shedding slug of affection Curvaceous hammer of lust Thingie You-know-what Divine rods Raging gently caress missile Ewan’s/___’s lightsaber Pink, stiff flobberworm Raging boner Big, floppy donkey dick One-eyed wonder weasel Love gun Heat seeking moisture missile Tube flute Meat whistle Slendick Love muscle Dingy lingy Manly platypus penis Rainbow Stick Bushel of tentacles Midnight meat train Thick manhood Magical broom Masculine popsicle Platoon of fuckton Letter Y Tree log of a cock Yogurt cannon Throbbing mass Bitchmaker Warhammer Man beacon/Beacon of Man-ness Puking pickle Tonsil tickler Rainbow dasher (100%) All-beef thermometer Pleasure weapon Love club Wank-wank sack bag Whack-the-Kass Stick Heated rod Metallicrotch Hyper weapon Coke bottle cock The Teen’s Pride Captain Thongpounder Bloddy thrill drill from beyond the grave Thor’s hammer Thick half-pounder anaconda from space Throbbing purple spear of destiny Chivalric auger-headed gut wrench Lord rear end-burglar the magnificent Tyrell the albine cave dweller Flaming satellite of love Hellenic crusader Saint Gregory King Ypres the Sixth Hallidoric the Radical ‘Nilla Spooge Murkosh the Avenger Throat spackler Mighty thrill drill of chills Vanilla spunk Sir Gallosh the Mighty Hellfire - Bloody lord of the Underworld Skyward Sword Rigid lust thermometer Bologna pony Love tool Sacagawea Baby anaconda Diego the Explorer Gyrados’s Bubblebeam Pinnochio’s Nose The Cat Killer Master Spelunker Rigid Anteater Horn of Gondor Colossal gently caress cannon Pickle Hot rod Sperminator Reawakened dragon Pork sword Fifth Dragonair Weeping cock Throbbing member Rod of muscle and blood Sonic Screwdriver Rock-Python Hot Stark Rod DNA wand Magical pregnant weapon Serpentine Mini-Balto Tumescent hot rod Love pencil Meatsnake Disco stick Cockness Monster Beef truncheon Wolf Thick straw Man matter Pleasure popsicle Peenie weenie Spike Plug Cord Trouser snake Sour apple blow pop Tackle Golden temple tower Mjolnir Spunktrumpet Love hose Kaptain Kielbasa The Batmobile Projectile Dachshund Stick The thickest oak tree in the forests of dickland Orange Male organism Banana tree Dickle dackle Nubby kitten prick Slobbering dog cock Floppy ursine rod Vlad the Imapler Cum painter Throbbing equine womanrod Elven pleasure spear Girthy Mismatched fucksticks Frick frack pack Hidden snake 36 inch vengeance cannon Pointed prick Puppy pecker Equine prick Stallion prick Nubby shaft Perverse pecker Corrupted/cursed/infernal/unholy/blighted cock Penile flora Undulating tentacle-dick Pussy prick “Barbed” dick Kitty pecker Purple prick Serpentine member/shaft/cock Bulbous snake-shaft Animalistic vixen-pricker Mythical mast Gloria Meat log Hardened dingly-diddly-dinga-long Man peen organ Dingle dangle Jigglywat Alien worm Rumplestiltskin Willy Venomous throbbing python of love Dangly thing Sweaty clam ham Italian sausage gently caress truck Happy thong schlong No-no carrot Angry meat men Throbbing sex tool Buttplug with a pulse Nick Fury’s super serpent penis Purple dark rod of steel Pleasure obelisk Tender mushroom Limp clump of meaty spaghetti Springy little schloinger Nine-inch baby-firing bazooka Purple vein cane 8-bit plastic love machine Throbbing man-milk dispenser Num-num nibbits Battering piece Arse-wedge Button-hole worker Family organ Cream stick Gaying instrument Lizard Old slimy Nervous cane Muscle of love Pendulous meat Silly string shooter Wicked one-eyed monster Dingily doo flytrap penetrator Kelp bunny Oozing erection Pulsating schlong Meat-pipe Glowing manhood Red-helmed warrior on his way to the Promised Land Springy little schloinger Enormous manly oval office-slicer-upper 15-inch nuclear missile of pleasure Leaking log Formidable rod Small present in between Harry’s legs Throb nob Beef slinky Bologna tombstone Tenderly pulsating maypole Flailnail Flopping member Somewhat-fiery trunk of manbeef 29 inch organ impaler Snoop Doge Dick Prostate-stabbing sword of love Koujackulate shooter Magical love popsicle
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Nov 29, 2015 05:10
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Djeser posted:Throbbing manliness same
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Nov 29, 2015 05:31
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Roots 1000 Words There was a yellow house with COUNTRY STORE written on a white sign, and, on a smaller one next to it, POST OFFICE. There was a rusted swing set in an overgrown field. Pine trees stretched for miles, creating a silence so profound I could hear the truck creaking and rumbling over the potholes long after it was out of sight over the hill. The air had a bite to it this early in the morning, even in August. I’d hitchhiked three thousand miles with my mom’s ashes in my pack, my grandpa’s hunting knife in the calf of my boot, and my daughter in a sling against my chest, to get...here. Approximately here. Mom hadn’t been too clear near the end, and she’d never talked about home until the night she died. Then, sitting behind a curtain in the city ER, she’d dragged my head down to hers and told me to go to her sister. “She might not remember me,” Mom said. “She was young when I left. But she might take you in, Karen.” The story wasn’t open yet. I could imagine two old men sitting on the bench outside, gossipping. I couldn’t imagine myself there in my short-shorts and tall boots, my tube top and the leather jacket someone had paid me with, once, that was much too big. Have you guessed what I did for a living? I sat on the swing and nursed Cindy with the leather jacked half pulled over for privacy. Squirrels climbed in the trees and crows cawed overhead, and in between there was a muffled susurration of trees. … An old blue toyota pickup pulled in right as the store opened. I stood up and ambled over. When the driver came out with his coffee I was leaning against the porch railing with my cleavage showing. He nodded at me, eyes lingering. One thing I’ll say for pregnancy: I never had tits like this before. “You know Emily Carter?” I asked. “Nope,” he said, and walked away. Another truck pulled in. The pickups came and went, new and shiny, old and rusted, with signs for landscaping, general contracting, and tree cutting services. Men in t-shirts and jeans ogled me, pushed past me, shrugged at me. They didn’t know my aunt. … It was muggy and oppressive by the time the rush ended, and Cindy needed a change, so I went inside. The bell tinkled and someone yelled from the back, “I’ll be right out!” A restroom sign hung near the back. I slipped in and did my business, making sure to empty and refill my water bottle while I had the chance. When I came out the woman behind the counter said, “So you’re the one who’s been bothering my customers all morning.” “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” I said, resettling Cindy in her sling to buy for time before she kicked me out into the hot sun again. “I’m looking for Emily Carter.” She shook her head. “You come in here looking the image of Amy when she left, and you’re looking for Emily? That’s going to go down like a ton of bricks.” “You knew my mother?” I asked, unable to hide the hope in my voice. The sorrow. She shook her head, weariness making her old. “She’s passed, then?” “Yes. Last month.” She didn’t ask how. I was glad; it hadn’t been a pretty death, wasting away of liver failure in the shelters and on the streets. “I’m sorry to hear that. Emily will be, too. But someone should call her and warn her you’re here. She’s sensitive about Amy, still.” She reached for the phone. “Help yourself to something to eat while I call.” … Emily met me at the door, white-faced and grim. Her house was perched on the side of a tall hill, overlooking a field and a small cottage. Wildflowers grew under the windows. “I’m Karen-” I began, holding out my hand. My jacket parted over Cindy’s face, and Emily’s eyes darted downwards. She shuddered, and stepped back. “You’d best come in,” she said. “Amelia’s - my daughter’s - at daycamp.” Inside was all old beams and wood floors and simple white walls. Pictures of the family hung in the hall. One was black and white. A teenager sat in the snow, holding a young girl in her arms. I reached towards it without thinking. Emily’s hand rose, as if to stop me, and then fell. “That was the winter before she left,” she said. My fingers hovered over the glass, not touching. “I’ve never had a real picture of her.” Emily led me to the kitchen, and we sat in ladderback chairs cradling mugs of tea in our hands. Experience told me to drink mine quickly, in case it was withdrawn, but Emily only stared into hers, sneaking quick glances at me. “She died last month,” I said, and kicked myself for being so blunt as hot milky tea spilled on her hands. She stared at the spill. “I have her ashes. She wanted them to come back here.” We talked, a bit, but mostly awkward silence reigned. Eventually she asked, “When are you going back?” I rocked Cindy, who was awake and fussy. “I don’t have anything to go back to.” “No-” she paused and gestured to Cindy. “What about her father?” “I don’t know where he is,” I said. She looked away. I coughed nervously, and she turned back. “Look,” I said. “Mom told me to come here. She said I had to get off the streets.” Her face twisted. I thought she was going to yell, but instead she cried hard, silently. She got up and went to the sink to splash her face with water. “I won’t have you around my daughter dressed like that,” she said. “I won’t have her running off to be a… a prostitute or whatever. But I own the cabin down the hill. Stay there. Until you get back on your feet.”
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Nov 29, 2015 23:42
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