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Hawklad posted:Its a Trappist lol
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 19:43 |
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# ? Apr 25, 2024 23:18 |
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Better late than never, ban me or no The Magical Horse of Legends 1353 words PROMPT: Bayard legend “Bayard. Your destination today is Stardust Park. Try to please a few of the kids today? Maybe?” I will comply. I always comply. Of course, I do not tell him that. That will only draw more speech and further torture my precious wards. Having delivered his instructions, the distant, drawling voice won't be heard again until tomorrow morning when I return for my new route. I sense someone depositing a few crinkly sleeves of paper in my “frontmost” saddle pocket. Today's advance payment of my hero's fee. Then I am on my way. Today is a light day. 122 wards. I do my patriotic duty as a hero of the people by delivering these souls to the amusement park where they will find joy and laughter. I do this patriotic duty nearly every hour of every day. Those 122 people will still require the closing of a dozen intersections between the pickup and my destination, but it is a small price to pay. I inspire them as I save them and service just as I have for the last 600 years. Every single one of them has their own saddle and their own harness so they may ride in comfort and security. Yesterday, I only had 2 wards. I served my beloved people by delivering a visiting tech CEO and his adoring wife from the airport to his vacation home. That one even tried to begin a conversation with me. Most of them don't do that anymore. I do not talk back. I cannot afford to talk back. My duty to my people does not allow me to engage in such frivolities. The day before that, 48 wards. A troupe of schoolchildren on their way to the museum. I was filthy with human detritus at the end of the day. Gum, candy wrappers, ripped clothing. Some of my saddles sustained damage from prying hands. But all of them went home happy and safe. The day before that, almost 400. A local politician and and an entire entourage of protesters. The politician spent most of the two hours of the ride complaining about my side to side motion and how he wished I could have made better seating arrangements, but that is of no import. I am proud to serve our democracy. Last week, there was a wedding procession. 287 souls. At one point, there were bouts of sexual congress involved. Some of my saddles still bear the stains and the city budget was not able to replace them yet. There was a man who attempted to run one of the intersections my route was blocking with his vehicle. He narrowly avoided killing some 4 or 5 of my wards when he came to a screeching, nausea-inducing halt. My wards called for a stop while the man who would have run me down proceeded to berate me for the better part of a half hour. I do not remember what he said. It does not matter. I am proud to serve. Always. “Mama, where are we going?” “The same park as last week, dear. Try to relax. We'll be there soon.” “Mama, I don't like the smell...” “Just enjoy Bayard. It's a short trip and it's the cheapest way to get there in this traffic. And you should be proud to be here.” “I should be proud to ride a smelly horse?” “Don't be rude. He can hear you.” “That's just an old story, mama. Lina at school says HER mama said no one's heard him talk in a hundred years. And it stinks so mu –“ “Hush now. You shouldn't talk about people that way.” “But it's not a person, mama, it's a –“ “Horse? Please listen more. You should...” I lose the thread of the conversation now. It is nothing I have not heard a hundred or a thousand or ten thousand times before. I care for my wards, but I know what is good for them better than they do. Two more wards are getting on. I can feel myself stretch, and two new saddles are already in place to accommodate them. I am already beginning to tune out all that, though. It has been a long day and I just want to finish this trip. But it is... I hear a distant bark. It sounds like a pained one. I immediately stop in the middle of the street. “Mama? Why did we slow down?” I twist my head nearly a full 90 degrees trying to find the source of that sound. The bark has become a pained whimper, but it sounds so far away. I begin to move again just to stop at the next cross street. Then I am turning.. That canine whimper becomes a sharp yelp... “Where is he going? We're going to be late!” I begin to pick up speed. Someone is tugging on my reins, but I easily snap them as I begin to gallop. I hear other cries, human cries, but they seem distant now to my ears. The pain in that canine whimper pulls at my ears, my heart, and I cannot stand it. Someone is thumping now at the back of my neck with something hard and metallic. Then I am turning again, northward toward that whimper, galloping faster. I hear distant shouts of protest behind me, protests that grow loud and more frantic as I pick up speed. Cracks, squelches as something, somethings, hit the pavement behind me in my passing. Many somethings. But that whimper is drawing closer. I must find it. “Slow down. Slow down, man!” “I can't tell where I don't know --” Another voice is lost beneath a tearing sound, quiet at first, as another saddle comes loose. More pained shouts. How many fallen? I do not know. It does not matter. All that matters is finding the source of that whimper. I feel the wind beating against my fur, my face, my flanks, and it is the most glorious sensation in the world, but all I can think about is that tortured whimper. I gallop, gallop faster. I feel someone seize my mane in a death grip and yank, hard, causing a sharp pain that almost causes me to stop, but I only rear back. All the way back, standing up on my hind legs. I was carrying over a hundred souls today, a light load, yes, but when I stand tall on two hind feet now, I am still shocked to find that I look down upon the roofs of nearby buildings from my newfound advantages. A ravenous sea of faces, a mix of equal parts terror and awe, gaze up at me as I rear nearly to my full length in height, and there is more ripping sounds as still more saddles come free. The screams are becoming more noticeable now. But they are beside the point. I cast my gaze far, searching for the source of that whimper... There! Two blocks west. I fall back down to all fours in a drop that seems to take hours for my height. I hear a crackling squelch and feel something caught under one of my hooves, but I can't stop to look now. Broken saddles everywhere. Broken people and a hundred bystanders look on as I break into a full gallop again. Shattering glass, tearing metal, then sirens behind me. But there is the dog. It is quiet now, looking up at me from someone's gorgeously manicured front lawn. I do not really notice that, though. I have already begun to shrink again as almost all of my saddles and their wards came free. The only thing I notice in the world at that moment is that dog's eyes, gazing up at me hopefully. It was in pain, but it seems to be comforted by my presence. There are a dozen sets of sirens behind me, but I don't care about any of that. I carry no more, and I am free to give comfort to someone who deserves it.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:03 |
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Thunderdome Week CCLXXI: Reality Doesn't Care What You Think Humans are an intrinsically vain species. One of your less endearing traits is how, just as soon as you figure out some slapdash approximation of how reality functions, you immediately name it after yourselves. Hell, as one of you already pointed out, you don't even name them after their first discoverers half the time! Well, you know what? You're made almost entirely of meat and man is the Universe itching to remind you. When you sign up, you will receive one scientific or sociological theory named after a person. In your story, that theory worked: then suddenly, inexplicably, stops applying. How? And then what? That's up to you, 'Domers, but note that I will be gravely displeased by copouts and greatly pleased by completely mad yet somehow still coherent copins. e: AN EXAMPLE, DO NOT USE quote:Obliterati's Theory of Lightspeed says that light moves at fifty-five miles an hour in vacuum. THEN SUDDENLY it moves at ten/fifty-seven million/doesn't move at all/moves only when within half a mile of any member of the Manic Street Preachers. Oh, woe! Your story is about that. Kardashev Type III Civilisations: Obliterati Jitzu_the_Monk Exmond Wordcount: 2000 Signups close: Friday 13th, 2359 UTC Submissions close: Monday 16th, 0900 UTC Primate 'scientists': Crabrock - Dunbar's Number QuoProQuid - Chandrasekhar Limit Thranguy - Pareto Principle Derp - Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle Deltasquid - Betteridge's Law of Headlines Spectres of Autism - Pythagora's Theorem Yoruichi - Kranzberg's First Law of Technology Tyrannosaurus - The Hubble Constant Dr. Kloctopussy - Toblet's First Law of Geography Sitting Here - Orgel's Second Rule Simbyotic - Benford's Law Magnificent7 - The Oort Cloud Sham bam bamina! - Miller's Law Sebmojo - Tarski's Undefinability Theorem Captain_Indigo - Sturgeon's Law ThirdEmperor - The Drake Equation bigperm - The Novikov Self-Consistency Principle a new study bible! - Newton's Third Law Fuubi - Campbell's Law The Sean - John Gabriel's Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory Dreaming of Roses - The Pygmalion Effect Kaiju15 - The Higgs Boson Hawklad - Alzheimer's Disease Jan - The Coriolis Effect Fumblemouse - Munchausen Syndrome ( FLASH RULE: https://youtu.be/OXypyrutq_M ) flerp- Maxwell's Equations Xelkelvos - Capgras Delusion Sparksbloom - Dunning-Kruger Effect curlingiron - Archimede's Principle Maigius - The Armstrong Limit have blue - Kepler's Laws of Planetary Motion Lampsacus - The Copernican Principle Entenzahn - The Schwarzchild Radius BabyRyoga - St. Elmo's Fire AllNewJonasSalk - The Mandelbrot Set e: food for thought from the theory of quantum decay, that asserts that physical laws and constants are localised and sustained by quantum effects: Coleman & deLucca 1980 posted:The possibility that we are living in a false vacuum has never been a cheering one to contemplate. Vacuum decay is the ultimate ecological catastrophe; in the new vacuum there are new constants of nature; after vacuum decay, not only is life as we know it impossible, so is chemistry as we know it. However, one could always draw stoic comfort from the possibility that perhaps in the course of time the new vacuum would sustain, if not life as we know it, at least some structures capable of knowing joy. Obliterati fucked around with this message at 00:52 on Oct 14, 2017 |
# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:12 |
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in
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:13 |
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ok, man
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:14 |
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In
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:14 |
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ho boy this sounds fun deal me in
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:16 |
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This sounds great, I'm in
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:20 |
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Dunbar's Number asserts there is a hard upper limit to the number of humans you can form stable relationships with. QuoProQuid posted:ok, man The Chandrasekhar limit defines the maximum mass a star can consist of without being doomed to catastrophic gravitational collapse. The Pareto Principle is the formal name of the 80/20 rule. derp posted:ho boy this sounds fun deal me in Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle asserts that it is by definition impossible to perfectly observe any subatomic particle. Deltasquid posted:This sounds great, I'm in Betteridge's Law of Headlines posits that any newspaper headline posed as a question can be answered correctly with the word 'no'.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:24 |
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in
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:29 |
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Obliterati posted:
holy poo poo did i win the lottery or what tyvm
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:32 |
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In
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:36 |
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Oh god yes I'm in good prompt
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 20:38 |
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Yeah ok in
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:05 |
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Pythagora's Theorem models right-angled triangles. Kranzberg's First Law of Technology states that 'technology is neither good nor bad; nor is it neutral'. Tyrannosaurus posted:Oh god yes I'm in The Hubble Constant provides an exact value for the rate of the expansion of the Universe. Dr. Kloctopussy posted:Yeah ok in Toblet's First Law of Geography assumes that "everything is related to everything else, but near things are more related than distant things".
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:10 |
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good poo poo im in
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:11 |
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Sitting Here posted:good poo poo im in Orgel's Second Rule theorises that 'evolution is cleverer than you are'.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:18 |
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It Could End Any Day Now 1455 words, 18 hours late. Christy always doubted Henry’s love for her, and not just because he was bisexual. But that sure as poo poo didn’t help. She could lose him to anybody, not just some younger prettier girl. Was that a bad way to think of it? Didn’t know didn’t care. But that worry was always top of mind, consuming any mental downtime. So when she backed over Henry’s stupid little dog, she was both panicked and not surprised in the least. Of course she’d hit the stupid mutt. The relationship was doomed from the start, why not end it in the worst possible way? “I—I was backing out and I think Perry was laying down in the driveway.” She held Perry in her arms, his black nose poking through the dirty brown curls. “I never heard a thump, but soon as I saw him I knew something was wrong.” Henry closed his laptop and came over to take Perry from her, delicately. He looked into the dog’s eyes, made a “tsk tsk” sound, then checked the dog’s back and then his legs. “He doesn’t seem to have any broken bones, you think maybe he just got scared?” “I don’t know Henry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see him when I was backing up. He started crying, must’ve been while I was rolling…”she trailed off, trying to find any words better than, ‘while I was rolling over him.’ The dog whimpered, but wasn’t crying nearly as loud as he’d been in the driveway. “Let’s get him to the vet, they’ll know what to do.” Henry handed Perry back to her. “I’ll get his travel box and the keys.” “You don’t think I should hold him while you drive? He could bounce around in the box.” “Okay. I think my keys are in the bedroom,” Henry said. “I’ve got mine right here in my hands. Please hurry. God I’m so sorry.” She didn’t want him to see her crying. He was keeping it together far better than she’d expected and she was trying to match his level of emotion. Maybe this wouldn’t end the relationship, maybe the dog would pull through and he wouldn’t blame her for killing his grandmother’s dog, a dog that he just got. In the car, Perry started to whine again, starting within his chest but within minutes it was a series of pained barks. Henry didn’t seem to be affected by the sound, but then again Henry was a strong man. He always kept his emotions to himself, maybe it was a European thing. Maybe that’s what attracted Christy to him in the first place. “You’re taking him to the animal hospital around the corner right?” She asked as Henry passed it. “They’ll charge an arm and a leg. I’m taking him to our vet, he’ll know what to do.” Henry said this the way a call-in service desk might comment as they’re transferring you to another useless department. Perry’s cries died down and for a moment Christy thought the dog passed out. She was holding him as gently as she could, trying to absorb the curves and dips in the road. She checked his breathing, and his tiny chest was still puffing in and out, his muzzle resting over her heart. She relaxed her hold on him, and noticed a tiny bit of blood on her right sleeve coming from his back legs perhaps? Henry was focused on the road, he hadn’t seen it and she didn’t want to upset him further, so she went back to hugging the dog as gently as possible, praying Henry wouldn’t notice. Jesus why did she have to run over the dog? The dog whimpered and barked again. “I’m so sorry baby,” she said to Perry. “It’s all right Christy,” Henry said. “I promise I’m not mad at you.” But of course, she thought, anybody would say that in a situation like this. By the time the vet took Perry from her, the poor dog was crying nonstop. She stood in the waiting room, hugging herself while Henry followed the vet into the back room. She waited. Worried. She paced. She craned her neck to see beyond the front desk, now vacant, but couldn’t see where they’d gone, couldn’t hear any sounds beyond the radio playing bland pop. She started to mentally list the things she’d have to recover from the house when he came out and told her it was over. The dog would die and while he wouldn’t exactly blame her, he probably wouldn’t be able to look at her without seeing his poor grandmother’s dog, dead in the vet’s office. Luckily, her old roommate hadn’t found a replacement yet. While she’d only been living at Henry’s for the past couple of months, they’d dated for six. It seemed to be going well but she’d known it wouldn’t last. She was sure however that it would’ve been something — or someone — else that ended it, not the drat dog. Henry came out, hands covered in blood. “Why don’t you go on home,” He said. “I’ll be here awhile.” She nodded. “Is he okay? Did I…” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words ‘kill him?’ so she just trailed off. He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything, Christy. I promise” “But the car? I’m positive I rolled over him?” “Not at all. It was his tummy. Look go on home, I’ll be there once I’ve settled up here.” The vet came out smiling. In his gloved hand, between thumb and forefinger was a diamond. “You didn’t hurt him at all. He started making GBS threads the diamonds.” “He what?” she said. To the vet, Henry said something in French that she didn’t catch. “Go on home. I’ll see you soon.” The vet glanced at Henry, then her. “She doesn’t know about this? Why the hell did you bring her here?” She looked between the vet and Henry. “What’d you say? What do you mean by making GBS threads diamonds?” Henry squeezed her shoulder. “It’s nothing. I’ll explain on the way home. Please go wait in the car.” — He would dump her on the way home. It was obvious. She’d hit the dog, and then she’d heard something she wasn’t supposed to, hell she didn’t even know what, but the dead quiet in the car was cutting her nerves worse than Perry’s cries on the way there. She finally broke the silence. “making GBS threads diamonds?” She asked. He put his hand on her knee, took a deep breath and released it. “I told you I’m in the import business, right. I import diamonds,” he said. “And what, Perry ate one?” “No it’s err, it’s more complicated than that.” “You know what?” She said. “It’s none of my business. Just let it go. I’m sorry I asked.” “Look, Christy.” He said, not taking his eyes from the road. “We’ve been together for a while. You trust me right?” “Of course I do,” she said, wondering if she ever did. “This is what I do. Diamonds. It doesn’t always happen like this, with… problems.” They pulled into the driveway of his house, but he didn’t get out, and neither did she. “The diamonds are from the Congo. They’re shipped to Antwerp. And then I import them here.” After a few seconds, he said “In dogs. We sew them into dogs. I wasn’t able to get this one to the vet before the package ruptured.” “That doesn’t make sense.” “Have you ever heard of blood diamonds?” “The movie? With Leo DiCaprio?” He closed his eyes, massaged his temples. She could tell he was struggling to find the words but none of it made sense to her. “Why the hell are you telling me any of this? You know what? I don’t want to know. I thought the dog was your grandmother’s.” “Perry IS my grandmothers.” He gripped the steering wheel. “Was. My grandmother receives the diamonds, packages them and sews them into the dogs. It’s horrible, but look. If we’re going to stay together I think it’s better that you know what I do.” “It’s absolutely horr— wait you said ‘stay together’? So, you’re not mad at me?” “What? Why would I be mad? And even if I was, that doesn’t mean it’s over. You’ve got to stop thinking like that. I’m not your dad. Not every man out there is always looking to dump you.” That stung. “You’re bringing illegal diamonds into the country and you’re telling me what’s wrong with me?” He sighed. “I really don’t think that’s the issue right now.” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re probably right.” He was definitely probably going to dump her next week, once everything blew over. She opened the door. “So, how many diamonds?” HERE'S WHAT I AM ASSUMING: PEOPLE KNOW WHAT BLOOD DIAMONDS ARE. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_diamond
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:38 |
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A bit overwhelmed, this being the first time I'm entering the Thunderdome pit, but that theme sounds cool as hell and I want to get better and finally become a true writer™. Also, this prompt is literally Greg Egan's latest trilogy. Simbyotic fucked around with this message at 21:44 on Oct 9, 2017 |
# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:39 |
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Oh and I have no loving clue about this prompt but I am in.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:39 |
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I'm willing to co-judge if that would be agreeable to you, Obliterati.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:42 |
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Copping in to atone.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:50 |
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inburgers
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 21:57 |
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In.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 22:08 |
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In Have you ever heard the Theory of Lazy Authors?
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 22:10 |
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In like Flynn theory of increasing intelligence.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 22:11 |
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Simbyotic posted:I'm entering Benford's Law observes that, in most collections of data, numerical values are far more likely to begin with a 1 than a 9. magnificent7 posted:Oh and I have no loving clue about this prompt but I am in. The Oort Cloud is a hypothetical ring of asteroids, beginning approximately 50,000 AU from the Sun. Jitzu_the_Monk posted:I'm willing to co-judge if that would be agreeable to you, Obliterati. Yes it would! Sham bam bamina! posted:Copping in to atone. Miller's Law says that the average human's working memory extends to seven distinct objects. sebmojo posted:inburgers Tarski's Undefinability Theorem attempts to prove that the truth of any given mathematical methodology cannot be proven mathematically. Sturgeon's Law opines "ninety percent of everything is crap". ThirdEmperor posted:In The Drake Equation is a probability-based argument for the existence and frequency of extraterrestrial sentient life. bigperm posted:In like Flynn theory of increasing intelligence. The Novikov Self-Consistency Principle states that, whilst time travel may theoretically be possible, any event which would create a paradox has, by definition, a probability of zero.
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 22:24 |
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I'll give it a try
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 23:30 |
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OK, I'm in!
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# ? Oct 9, 2017 23:46 |
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I've hated each instance of TD that I've joined and I'm busy with work and school but I'm still In.
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 00:13 |
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In!
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 01:10 |
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I'm in and I'll for shaming Belgium last week.
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 01:16 |
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Week 270 Crits As Deltasquid said, this week could be summed up as "meh". No stories were really hideously awful, but none was hideously awesome, either. Most felt lacking in some way; my suggestions may not be exactly what your story needs, but most felt like they needed something, and probably a from-the-ground-up rebuild as well. Sourdough Opening with two comma splices is not a good start. Punctuation doesn't seem to be your strong suit in general. I can understand your meaning, but punctuation should be stepping stones invisibly guiding the reader through the sentences, not jagged boulders requiring conscious navigation to get through. Peak is not *the verb you want here. Breath is never one. OK, it's not a bad little story once it gets going. I feel like the endless descriptive morass of the first half could be compressed down to maybe a paragraph or two so we can get down to the point when things actually start happening. Light of Other Days Well written. You ought to replace the double hyphen-minuses with emdashes—, though. A good story, pretty well told. A meaty deal Not a bad opening. "100 of years"? What do you mean, centuries, or only one century? You need to learn how quotation marks and other punctuation interact. Hint: the quotation marks don't eat the commas and periods. Besides that, you have the same punctuation problems as Sourdough. "slowly she unfurled from me" Uh. So I got to the end but I'm not exactly sure what was going on and I'm not sure why the characters were doing what they did. I kind of feel like this whole story could have been compressed to a paragraph or two, and then you can tell the actual story about how two immortals stole the Eiffel Tower or whatever. You wrote only the debriefing in between the actual daring thefts or whatever it is they were doing. The opposite of the interesting parts of a story. The City of Crust Eh. Some interesting worldbuilding early on, I guess, but not enough is actually happening. Effect as a verb means "to cause to come into being". I think you mean the farmers were the most affected. OK. A bit of irony there at the end, but I don't know. I feel like this story needs something more to make it resonate. Right now it feels hollow, maybe because of the structure, namely flashbacks alternated with exposition? I feel like there could be some emotional heft to this, but the punch doesn't land. The part with the son especially feels abstract and distant. Every section being 1-2 giant unbroken paragraphs doesn't help, either. The Devil's Kittens Well that was cool. I don't really have any complaints about this. Include Me Out ,,,What is going on?''' These quirks of punctuation started out as an interesting feature, but they got all tied up and tripped over each other around the middle. Adding a third form, unexplained (I guess the single angle brackets indicate a nested quote?), is one too many. And then what are the double angle brackets? Eh. I don't know. I didn't find much reason to feel or care for these characters. I know it's a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing, but I hardly know what anyone else cares about or wants, besides the two nominal main characters. The Long War Shouldn't that be "Prince's"? Otherwise it's an army composed of heirs to the throne. He brewed a boy? That sounds illegal OK, this is nicely described and I don't have any real fault in the sentence-level construction, but the story itself seems kinda slapdash or underdeveloped. Boy disappears, strange merchant sells magical hops, monk brews immortality potions from them, feeds the last one to a random dying soldier. (We don't even know if that will save him, but I guess it can be assumed.) But we're left with more questions than answers at the end: why does he recognize the monk? Surely he's 8 decades too young to be the boy from the beginning. Was the boy in fact killed? Why did the merchant give the monk the longevity hops? Why did he never show up again? I don't understaaaand You Have Nothing To Lose But Your Chains Cool story, though it treads very well-worn ground. Starting before the war is probably a good idea. One thing is kind of minor, but it bothered me: AI-directed AI development would most likely not hew to past, human-centric designs for troops and vehicles. When there's no need to fit a gun into human hands or need for life support for drivers and gunners, or to use drivers and gunners at all, the design constraints are much fewer. (Why do you need android shapes, anyway? Surely that's just a holdover from their originally being designed by people?) Story wise, I'm not quite sure what 491 is... also an android? Could be good to make that clearer from the start. A Good Dog Meh. This story starts with the cutesy cliche and continues it all the way through. It's a dog meme stretched out to 1250 words. At least it's consistent, I guess. No real problem at the sentence level. The story just didn't feel like it had any stakes; nothing felt dangerous or at risk, especially once the magic coat started magicking. That just felt like a deus ex machina. Trappist again Early impression: Uh. Most of these metaphors are landing like rotten grapefruit. You commit the same crimes against punctuation (especially comma use) as a few other stories this week. Turns out it's a fairly straightforward story, once you put aside the ridiculous dialog. Slight, but not every story needs to aspire to literary greatness. But I think there's a mismatch between the absurd goal and dialog of the characters, and the matter-of-fact tone of the writing. If the narration echoed the incredulity of Krasimir, or the absurd single-mindedness of Van Hecke, I think it would be a much stronger telling. You might even consider writing it from the first-person perspective of one of the characters. This story needs something to make it more than its dreary subject and progression of events. Fuschia tude fucked around with this message at 03:25 on Oct 10, 2017 |
# ? Oct 10, 2017 01:23 |
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The Sean posted:I've hated each instance of TD that I've joined and I'm busy with work and school but I'm still In. Welcome home, friend.
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 01:24 |
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I'm in.
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 01:43 |
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Oh god I will probably be regretting it every day but that prompt is too amazing to pass on.
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 02:37 |
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Fuschia tude posted:Week 270 Crits Thank you!
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 03:55 |
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Incy wincy spider
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 04:47 |
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Ty fuscia
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 05:06 |
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# ? Apr 25, 2024 23:18 |
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Simbyotic posted:I want to get better and finally become a true writer™ right right but why are you here
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# ? Oct 10, 2017 06:40 |