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Azza Bamboo posted:Bullshit! How the hell is an original story below the heap of "big monster on ice planet" tales? You should probably brawl the judge if you disagree, otherwise consider writing better words
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Jan 21, 2020 11:41
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You should probably answer the drat question and quit hiding whatever bullshit you'd judge your brawl on or that you'd consider "better" words.
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Jan 21, 2020 12:04
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Yes I too agree that this week's judging is bullshit, I wrote about a gender neutral sparkledog which will NAIL me the deviant art demographic Anyway I'm here to get super mad about just reaching mediocrity, too bad there's no way to find out why a judge didn't appreciate my genius like dunno waiting for their crits
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Jan 21, 2020 12:23
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Thunderdome Week CCCXC (390) – Dressed to Kill Your Darlings This week is about FASHION! Since we write, by necessity, flash fiction in this thread, we tend not to spend a lot of time on details as seemingly unimportant as what a character is wearing. But we all know that clothes can set us on adventures, they can help us meet new people, they can blast us to the stars! Prompt: Any genre goes this week. But whatever you choose to do should include a favorite outfit or the armor you’ve always wanted to include in a story but it was never practical or one defining statement piece of clothing that a character is wearing and let the story go from there. /Prompt The clothing should be described in your story, obviously, and there should be a connection between it and what’s happening. This can be as simple as wearing a uniform for work or as involved as the suit getting them mistaken for an astronaut and shoved onto a rocketship! No erotica, fanfiction, Google Docs, archive-breaking coding, or dick pics. Politics is okay, but you know how dangerous that can be. Word Count: 1700 Words – A few more words to allow for the clothes description. Signups Close: Friday, January 24th, 11:59 PM Pacific Submissions Close: Sunday, January 26th, 11:59 PM Pacific I will give out clothing flash rules if requested. Otherwise, go forth and be fabulous! Arbiters of Fashion A Friendly Penguin SlipUp Sebmojo Catwalk Models Chili  Thranguy - flash clothing: snood Azza Bamboo Pepe Silvia Browne Anomalous Amalgam - flash clothing: jeggings Doctor Eckhart Something Else Carl Killer Miller Black Griffon Djeser Mrenda Saucy_Rodent Tyrannosaurus a friendly penguin fucked around with this message at 12:31 on Jan 25, 2020 |
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Jan 21, 2020 13:31
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A lawless criminal writes into town. Their crime: they're words. Sebmojo's sans-sherif star glints in the aggressive outback sun. "you best mosey on back where you'd moseyed on over here from." "This contest is bullshit," the criminal spits. "It's judging is--" The bullet tears the criminal's hat clean off. The 'jo's gun smokes out of its holster. A split second later the echo comes crashing down. The lone mod ranger slowly lifts a smoke to his unshaven mouth, lights it, drags. In the background, an avalanche. "It's is only ever short for 'it is', kiddo." Once again justice is served. The avalanche is actually a dogpile of domers that buries the village underneath it. Three hundred years later, a house is built on the lot. It gets haunted, but this is a story for another day.
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Jan 21, 2020 14:05
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In, flash.
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Jan 21, 2020 15:41
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In.
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Jan 21, 2020 15:42
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I'm in.
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Jan 21, 2020 15:47
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Azza Bamboo posted:You should probably answer the drat question and quit hiding whatever bullshit you'd judge your brawl on or that you'd consider "better" words. You’ve annoyed me. Let’s brawl.
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Jan 21, 2020 15:51
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in flash plz
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Jan 21, 2020 15:56
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Thranguy posted:In, flash. A snood hair or beard
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Jan 21, 2020 16:03
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Anomalous Amalgam posted:in Jeggings
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Jan 21, 2020 16:05
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Flesnolk posted:You’ve annoyed me. Let’s brawl. If the other judges aren't going to tell me what you all what then I'll happily let you show me. I have to warn you that I'm not going to go down in this rigged bullshit contest without a fight, though.
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Jan 21, 2020 16:08
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While we await a judge, you do know that the judges of the previous week are going to write crits and tell you what they didn't like about the story, right?
Flesnolk fucked around with this message at 16:17 on Jan 21, 2020 |
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Jan 21, 2020 16:14
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I'm willing to bet they're back there clamoring for excuses, reading books and splitting hairs in a competition where we should be cracking skulls. They can't handle me, they know I'm the greatest!
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Jan 21, 2020 16:19
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Flesnolk posted:You’ve annoyed me. Let’s brawl. Azza Bamboo posted:If the other judges aren't going to tell me what you all what then I'll happily let you show me. I have to warn you that I'm not going to go down in this rigged bullshit contest without a fight, though. Prompt: I don't care how you frame it or spin it, but I want elements of romance, humor and horror. How you interpret and use that is up to you. You have 2,000 words and until sometime before the end of day February 1st, 2020 US CST If you accept these terms, please
Anomalous Amalgam fucked around with this message at 16:26 on Jan 21, 2020 |
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Jan 21, 2020 16:22
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End of day in which time zone?
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Jan 21, 2020 16:23
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Flesnolk posted:End of day in which time zone? whooops, US CST.
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Jan 21, 2020 16:26
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Anomalous Amalgam posted:Prompt: I don't care how you frame it or spin it, but I want elements of romance, humor and horror. How you interpret and use that is up to you.
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Jan 21, 2020 16:58
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I’ve been waitINg for an excuse to be fabulous.
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Jan 21, 2020 17:16
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Im in
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Jan 21, 2020 17:49
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Great prompt, I'm in.
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Jan 21, 2020 18:22
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What's the competition rule on shooting two birds with one stone? I have an idea for the brawl prompt that fits well in to the main prompt. I could hash it out by Saturday in under 1700 words and it'd theoretically be legal for both. I do have a spare story in mind for the main prompt if the answer is no.
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Jan 21, 2020 18:51
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time is in honk honk
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Jan 21, 2020 20:00
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azza bamboo i like your style but also shut up slightly e: but to actually answer the question, it's one story per one prompt, no doubling up you should have just done it without asking and waited to see if anyone noticed Sitting Here fucked around with this message at 20:13 on Jan 21, 2020 |
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Jan 21, 2020 20:06
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i was going to be kinder in this crit because this is a very very amateur story (read: it loving sucked) but hey if you wanna be a dick i can be one too. the only difference is that ill be a productive dickquote:Winter Forecast i kinda gave up at the end of this crit because it mostly just had the same issues throughout the entire story. boring dialogue, boring characters, and useless focus on unneeded description while telling important things rather than showing. you have a decent idea of an arc, but it doesnt work here because it's intensely arbritary. boomer pilot is annoyed about new tech and then for some reason like integrates with the AI and appreciates how useful it is and then the boomer and AI save the day by working together (well, not really, the boomer just tells the AI what to do). the problem is that the shift doesnt really come from a person's decision. it was just like, she got forced into the matrix and thus understood the AI better rather than her actually having to, you know, wrestle with her hatred of this technology. it doesnt feel good because it feels so manufactured. overall, this story sucked. it was confusing, mechanically poor, boring, uninteresting characters, no conflict until the first half which was easily resolved and then another one hastily thrown in, a lazy and forced arc, and i could just go on and on and on if you want me to but ill stop. this story was bad and deserved the dm because it was mechnically bad. nobody loving cares who good your concept was (and, by the way, your concept isnt even that great. it's just a loving AI and snowflakes that can make a runway. it wasnt some brilliant, brand new sci-fi world). concepts are a loving dime a dozen. we can come up with concepts all the loving time, but to craft an actually interesting story with that concept? that's the hard part and that's the stuff we want. and that's the stuff you didnt do. also, you better not respond to this loving crit, i have no patience for that kind of poo poo, im just giving you this so you (hopefully) shut the gently caress up about the judges being bad which, by the way, gently caress you for that one you prick!
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Jan 21, 2020 20:14
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kayfabe? in thunderdome??? also in you lily-white pissnards
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Jan 21, 2020 21:09
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Pththya-lyi fucked around with this message at 21:38 on Jan 21, 2020 |
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Jan 21, 2020 21:30
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flerp posted:also, you better not respond to this loving crit, i have no patience for that kind of poo poo, im just giving you this so you (hopefully) shut the gently caress up about the judges being bad which, by the way, gently caress you for that one you prick! Thank you. All your words do is make me stronger.
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Jan 21, 2020 23:01
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Shellton Cracks: The Case of the Missing Parsley 1500 words I’d never had to draw my gun in one hundred and eighteen days of service, but this limp piece of dill was really tempting me. Every moment counts in a missing parsleys case and I sure as crack wasn’t up for spending many more of them debating with garnish. “Look man,” the dill said, “we don’t talk to the poleeks.” I looked nothing like a root, so the sogface was either taking the piss out of me or high as a fridge bulb. It tried to shut the plexiglas drawer once again, but my shell was in the way, and he was weak like a glass of vinegar left to marinate in ice cubes on a summer day. I let myself in. Bass washed over me, drowning out the protests that followed me into the grass den. The inside hadn’t seen a wetwipe in decades. Herbs were lying across the floor, some sleeping, some rotting, or worse. I’d seen it before. This was the bottom of the vegetable drawer, where the mold was clawing at you day in and out, and it didn’t matter if you were fresh or spoiled, the sog would get to you all the same eventually. If you were here, you were family. I found the missing parsley up in a corner on the first floor. The leaf pattern matched the sketch: shaggy frame, smooth leaves, one full bunch. Bit of a browning on the stems. Lost some weight, but alive. Chalk one up for the good guys. “Get up,” I said. The parsley gargled something incomprehensible. “...find me… no...” The thump of the bass made him hard to understand. I tried to help him on his stems, but he shied away like I was about to make pesto. “Come on now,” I said. “There are veggies out there who care for you.” The look on his face was pure terror. “No,” he said, “no, no, no, no.” Through the droning noise I didn’t notice the heavy steps thundering up the stairs until it was too late. Just as I turned, something muscled its way into my peripheral, and a tenderizer exploded into my face. I fell backwards, into darkness, and then into the dream. I knew what was coming. I couldn’t stop it. Around me, the world faded. Black. Wet. Hot. Burning. Bubbles rushed past me. I wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come out. My insides did the screaming for me. Scalding hot. Hellwater. Fluids pressed up against my inner membrane, wanting to break out and escape, the melting and the rebonding all the sick chemistry, but my shell had already toughened up, scarred a thousand times over. It was forever. It was hell. Some nights I’m not sure if it's a memory, or a brief glimpse into what awaits me at the end of my shelf-life. All I know is, I don’t deserve otherwise. I woke up in a pool of my own residual dew. My insides burned, somehow, even now. My environment circled me in waves like I was raw again. Somebody had draped me in sogged herb. I shook them off, got up, and fell down. There was a hole in my side. The devil himself was poking a finger into me. “Tabasco,” a voice said. It was mine. I had to get it out of my system before it ate through me. “The Kraft maneuver.” I’d done this once before, during the war. But this time, I’d had to do it sober, no vinegar. There was a crack in my shell where the syringe had been forced through. There was no point doing it slowly. It would just hurt longer. I ripped my shell open. Stale air hit my membrane. I tensed up, grabbed on to the exposed white, and squeezed. Somewhere, off in the distance, someone screamed. A fountain of red spurted out my side. It felt like somebody had glued a paring knife in there and I was slowly pulling it out and everything else with it. Finally, I’d have something else to see in my dreams. When all was said and done, I found myself keeled over in a puddle of my own juices. There were broken-off egg shells everywhere. I picked them up one by one and put them under my hat. As I looked back up, I realized for the first time who else was in the room with me. Parsley. His expired body stared at the ceiling. The realization hit me like a chicken’s rear end in a top hat. He’d been hiding from someone, and I’d led them here. I noticed something else. There was more than egg-shells and rotten herb lying around. Something so similar to my own shell, I hadn’t noticed it at first. Flakes of white bread crust. And they were leading out of the den. -- Mama Mayo’s was the kind of box that looked just pristine enough to fit into the fridge upstate, but if you looked close you noticed the little dents that betrayed its seedy nature. The crumbs had led me all the way here. At this point, I was pretty sure I knew who I’d find. My insides churned as I stepped through the door. It wasn’t the tabasco. The club was mostly empty this time of day. I ignored the staff telling me where I could and could not go and I guess I looked too hosed-up for anyone to want to get in my way. The crumbs led to one of many doors in the dimly lit backstage area. Voices were arguing on the other side. I kicked the door open. “Hello, Waldorf,” I said. “Shellton”, the bread roll said. A hunking mass of wheat glared down on me, blocking the view. “Heard you go by ‘Crispy Roll’ now.” “Things have changed since the war, Shellton. We can’t all stay continental.” “Listen, I have a few--” He jumped at me like a piece of freshly toasted bread. Any other day we’d been a match, but I’d just survived a poisoning. He slammed me against the cardboard, two quick punches to my exposed membrane. I bobbed and weaved out of the way, but he rolled after me with a speed I hadn’t anticipated. I found myself pinned to the ground by a solid ounce of white bread, and all I could think of was, I shouldn’t have come here. Not with my shell still broken. My shell-- I knocked my head back. My hat slipped off. I reached into it and threw a fistful of eggshell into Waldorf’s face. That caught him by surprise. Gave me the break I needed. He flinched away, and I followed it up with a headbutt that almost split my shell open. He slipped off me and stopped moving. Waldorf had always packed a punch, but he’d never gotten around to fixing that glass chin. Slowly, I got up. Caught my breath. I remembered there was someone else in here. "I wonder, eggtective,” a soft voice said. “Do you even remember me?" I did. Two days ago she had turned up in my office with a lost-sheep-act that had been a little hard to swallow, and a wad of dough that had made washing it down easy. "Something about you always seemed fishy, Susi Salmon." She turned around on her lemon wedge. Even through the barrel pointed at me it was hard not to appreciate her looks. A filet of a dame, two hundred fifty grams of prime cut protein. Lean build, rosy skin. She smelled like the sea, if the sea was a chainsmoker. "Shoot, tuts. You don't got the yolks." “I don’t want to kill you.” She got up from her wedge. “But I will. If I have to.” “Why did you do it?” She laughed. “You don’t know? Then, I guess, it was a case of mistaken identity.” She took her time with me, turning back around to the mirror to fawn over herself. “That parsley must have had me confused with someone else. Tried to blackmail me. I guess Crispy Roll got wind of it. You know how protective he is.” “He’s a real darling.” She gave me a glance up and down. I felt like a devilled egg. “You know...” She slowly approached me. The gun poked into me as she planted a kiss on my forehead. “One of these days you need to learn to forgive yourself.” She strutted out the door. I tried my best to keep myself from wobbling. Keep a straight face. “Do I know you?” I said. “Maybe…” She laughed. A faint, sad laugh. The gun looked like a prop on her. She tapped her head with it, looking back at me. “It’s a shame, you know. Tuna and eggs make a nice salad.” She disappeared through the frame like an apparition. There were bottles of rose coloring all over her desk. I didn’t know which ghost of my past had haunted me this time. But now I sure as crack had find out.
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Jan 22, 2020 01:21
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a friendly penguin posted:
I'm down to judge. I am both fashionable and judgemental.
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Jan 22, 2020 04:06
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SlipUp posted:
Hobbs and Bailey Do Jack poo poo 1200 words Hobbs and Bailey loitered in the shadowy doorway, watching late night stragglers amble through the sodden neon slum. Fists of water rained down from the sky, pummeling the life out of the pavement, splattering the street with shivering reflections. Bailey’s face was fixed in a rude scowl. “We’re not beat cops,” she grumbled. "This is ridiculous. I worked my butt off to get this promotion, thinking I’d be solving crimes.” “So you’ve mentioned.” Hobbs reached into his jacket and withdrew a battered aluminum cigarette case. Bailey aimed her scowl at Hobbs. “You said you quit that crap. You know I hate how those make the car smell.” Hobbs spoke around the cigarette between his lips. “I said I’d quit until you annoyed the piss out of me again.” He tilted his head away from the capricious breeze, flicked his lighter a few times to no avail. With a huff, Bailey cupped her hands around his, shielding the cigarette from the weather until the cherry flared to life. Hobbs took a long drag, then let out an exaggerated sigh of contentment, bitter smoke wafting from his lips to mingle with the falling rain. Bailey crossed her arms and slouched against the slick concrete wall. “I mean—how am I supposed to learn advanced detectiving from you if all we do is wait for lowlifes to start trouble? We’re down here patching bullet holes in this city when we should be doing...doing crime surgery, or something.” Hobbs gave her a long-suffering look, deepening the lines on his hounddog face. “What? You’re smoking, so I’m gonna keep complaining.” “Yep.” From somewhere in the sloshing night came the sound of voices raised in agitation. Bailey tensed, eyeballing the street like a cat on the prowl, but the voices broke into laughter, then faded. “The real crimes are all happening behind closed doors anyhow,” she muttered, shrugging the tense readiness from her shoulders. “Your wife beaters, your big-time drug slingers. Your frauds and your serial murderers. Your politicians. The only ones dumb enough to be out in this mess are me, you, and the drunks.” “I’m strongly considering joining that third category.” A Lincoln Town Car sharked through the rain, rolling slowly down the street, headlights glaring hungrily into the night. It came to a stop in front of the detectives’ alcove, the vehicle's occupants obscured by darkly tinted windows. Bailey felt that tension return, felt unseen eyes looking on her with unknowable intent. Didn’t matter that she was Detective Bailey. As far as the denizens of the night were concerned, cops were cops. Hobbs offered a cool nod to the inscrutable window, and a moment later the Lincoln moved on, its taillights making a red wake on the rain-slick street. “Christ, and there I was half-hoping they were gonna start something,” Bailey said, eyeing the retreating shark. “Naw, you weren’t." “Right now the people of this city are paying us to do exactly zilch,” Bailey said. “We’re not solving crimes. We’re not even fighting crimes. We’re just standing around waiting for nothing to happen while the bad guys watch us from slum windows and shady limos. Laughing at the two sopping wet pigs on the night shift, I’ll bet.” She glanced over at Hobbs, saw he was smiling, just a little, with closed eyes. He took another long drag on his cigarette, exhaled with a retching cough that wiped that brief smile away and then kept going, a horrible muddy sound like his lungs might rip themselves out of his chest. “Goddamn humidity,” he muttered after the fit had passed. “Always gets me coughing. You were saying?” Bailey gave him a worried side-eye, opened her mouth, shut it again, and pursed her lips. “Come on kid, don’t leave me hanging. You were teeing up for a big speech or something, I could feel it. An idealistic manifesto on what it means to be a detective.” “It doesn’t matter,” Bailey said, deflated. “Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.” Bailey snorted. “Yeah, just like I love the smell of your smokes. Face it, Hobbsy, we were born to push each other’s buttons.” “I didn't lose my thirst to do good, you know. Still feel it every day,” Hobbs said, his voice rasping in the timbre of falling rain. “You just—you learn to appreciate the quiet moments, the simple things.” “Quit messing around, Hobbs. This sentimental crap is making me feel weird.” “You’ve got to pace yourself, appreciate the quiet beats when they come.” Hobbs flicked his spent cigarette out into the sidewalk, the cherry dying with a tiny hiss. “You’re gonna do a lot of good in this town. Don’t worry about making it all happen at once.” Bailey turned to face him full-on. “No.” “No?” “You’re the one teeing up. You’ve got something you’ve wanted to tell me this whole time. And whatever it is—no. Stuff it down. Swallow it. Sleep it off. Just, no.” “What makes you think I’m not just being introspective?” “I swear to Jesus, Hobbs. If you retire on me—I’ll go loose cannon. They’ll have to call you back in to take me down. I’ll commit more crimes than you can solve.” “It’s cancer,” Hobbs said, his words buried under a refrain of no, no, no, no. “The precinct is letting me do a victory lap. But they’re not giving me anymore cases. Sorry about the beat cop treatment. Just wasn’t ready to call you my ex-partner.” “Your goddamn cigarettes,” Bailey spat, looking ruefully at the soggy filter on the ground. “Pancreatic cancer. The doctor and I had a good laugh about that. She said I got the lungs of a smoker half my age.” Hobbs offered Bailey a wry smile. Bailey held her face very still but her hands clenched and unclenched of their own accord, leaving painful little half moons in her palms. The air was too thick to breathe. “I don’t want to know how long. Just—just be gone one day. No goodbyes.” “Naw. There’s going to be a goodbye party, with cake, and you’re gonna cry in front of the whole precinct.” Bailey laughed in spite of herself, the tightness in her chest easing just a little. “I’d say go to hell, but I don’t want to spoil what’s coming next.” Hobbs fixed her with a fond smile. “Our shift was over a while ago.” “You got somewhere to be in a hurry?” “Naw, do you?” “I could clear my schedule.” Hobbs and Bailey loitered in the shadowy doorway a while longer, watching the neon beerlights wink out one by one. The final dredges of the night shift emptied themselves onto the streets: dishwashers, night managers, overworked servers and bouncers. The rain softened to a gentle drizzle, then stopped altogether as a brief gap in the clouds revealed the moon, and for a few minutes, the wet streets shone silver, and the whole city breathed easy for one small, quiet beat.
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Jan 22, 2020 06:56
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SlipUp posted:I'm down to judge. I am both fashionable and judgemental. Yeah I'll judge
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Jan 22, 2020 07:58
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sebmojo posted:Yeah I'll judge SlipUp posted:I'm down to judge. I am both fashionable and judgemental. Thanks!
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Jan 22, 2020 12:49
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In.
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Jan 23, 2020 00:57
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Fash in
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Jan 23, 2020 01:31
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I got called into work this weekend and I'm not gonna have time to complete my entry. Sorry, self-disqualification.
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Jan 24, 2020 19:46
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ice cold crits Saucy Rodent Awful first line, boring everything afterwards. It’s just the Thing without any of the cool bits. Too much boring preamble, i dont care about these characters. Monster description seem to just be “i dont loving know you figure it out” which i guess is kinda cool but when that happens please dont try to play it out as some natural creature. Keep it supernatural. These fuckers are awfully trigger-happy to die, sort of arbitrary but i guess you saw a lot of action movies where people ironically die right before theyre saved and couldnt think of a way to make that work naturally huh? Rip Simply Simon Nice dog story, almost tricked me into liking this, but too bad this was also boring as sin (except sinning is actually fun so idk who came up w/ that phrase). I kinda like the base ideas of this story, some criminal thrown into a planet and befriends a doggo that accidentally ends up causing the planet to become destroyed or w/e, but man was this long w/o anything really happening. Then the story was like poo poo gently caress everything needs to happen at the end, idk, space planet lasers!!!!!!!! There’s a lot of weird bits in this story. The protag doesnt have much of a personality, and his reasoning for liking the planet doesnt really come up or is developed. He also talks about his wife for like one second and then is promptly forgotten about which is really confusing and i have no idea why you put that in. Good dog tho. Doctor Eckheart This was super weird because i couldnt pin down the logic of this story. Protag is on an island, he cloned(?) some kids, but there’s also the Mariner (why is this capitalized like that’s his name?) who is a clone(?) of the protag and the protag cloned a bunch of kids reading the manual but also was like im not gonna read the manual about raising kids for some reason and so the kids escape and the mariner finds them and tells the protag hey maybe read the book on raising kids and he’s like okay but also these kids are probably going to die and im going to make new ones(?). Yeah this was kind of a mess in terms of what was going in the large scale and in the micro scale, it was pretty boring because it was mostly like a guy loving up at job because he didnt read the manual and getting chewed out by his manager. And like, why the hell did this guy read the manual on creating a baby and then arbitrarily decide NOT to read the part about raising the baby!!! Astronaut Charlie This feels like an amazing long story just to get to the world’s first arson. There was some ideas that I thought were actually pretty cool, like the slow inevitable death of that one guy from losing the blubber or whatever, but besides that, it wasnt very interesting. It was just cavemen with no personality hunting, and then murdering an alien that had fire. The caveman did have one personality trait actually (not liking murder), but then they saw fire and were like ACTUALLY I WANT TO MURDER EVERYTHING NOW and its like oh okay i guess you didnt like that character trait huh? I can see you making this arc work, but it doesnt actually develop or work and honestly probably requires a longer story to work. Crimea Exposition dump in the beginning that leads to a completely unrelated bar fight at the end. Who cares? I like the idea of the artist and scientist working together to make life sort of thing, feels like a real thing that would prob happen like that. But other than that, it was just dull recollection of events that i dont really care about, and then a bar fight that was just kinda there? I dont know what you were going for with because you got a very boring circle hole with the exposition in the front and a very boring square peg with the bar fight and you shoved them in together and none of them working. You also mix up your pronouns when youre talking about the protag (and write the wrong name once). While he/they are valid pronouns which im not gonna argue against, it becomes really confusing when there are two people fighting and you use “they” and im not sure youre referring to the singular “they” of the protag or the plural “they” of the people fighting. Azza Bamboo I only have one thing to add (because i forgot to include this) but use said more. Just, any time you wanna replace said with another word, dont. Just use said. It’s an amazing word. A friendly penguin This grew on me more as the week progressed. I like bits and pieces of this. I like the way used the Kintoc story and the way the actions the protag took had effects and that the protag had to process them. This really won mostly on the principle of it being story because your character had a problem, they did things to fix that problem, and we saw the outcomes of the things they did. It’s not really a stellar example of it, and i think there’s a lot to clean up in terms of the prose, character, and making it overall more interesting, but it’s a decent story because it’s actually a story. Cptn_dr This is a pretty by-the-numbers sci-fi story. Future sucks and a person tries to do a small little action to try and do something nice in this poo poo future. It’s an alright formula and can do well, but this just fits straight into the mold without any attempt to break it. My big problem is that I feel like this should hold a lot more emotional weight than it does. Like, the protag is stealing food to give her kids one small glimmer of joy in a lovely future (that will likely get shittier because of the ash), and it doesnt land as strong as it could. Probably because we dont see the children much or see the struggle or get attached to the characters to really how big this small little moment is for them. Pththya-lyi Honestly, I generally like this kinds of story about kids and stuff, but this is just a waste of time for the most part. Kid gets chased by a Krampus and then murders it in cold blood. The ending isnt even great because it’s like “humans are too violent for peace” but like there’s some horrible monster chasing a child, idk whatd u do but i wouldnt think peace was an option there. But really, it was just a lot of words for nothing really interesting and a weird dumbass ending for no real good reason. Trex Unlike a lot of stories this week, this was incredibly focused. A guy has to fix an AI because he wants to be virtually horny and the AI goes rogue and murders him. There’s nearly no fluff and it’s all jokes. I thought it was amusing, which means you could classify this as a success I guess, but it doesnt really do much else. I’m mostly just glad you got in, did your thing, and left. AA The dialogue at the beginning is horrendously awful. Like, the protag spells out every single relationship with every character he’s ever met and complains about how he cant get laid. I understand what you were trying to do, making the protag a social outcast and having him question his role in a society he hates, but i think 1) making it centered around how the protag cant get laid and 2) it being told to us rather than actually shown makes it work really bad. Point 1 makes us dislike the guy because he’s an incel and point 2 just makes it seem like the guy is complaining rather than us actually feel like he’s an outcast. Honestly, just the beginning alone was so bad it deserved the DM. The ending isnt too bad, but the action comes quick and the resolution is pretty easy. SlipUp This story was bizarre. We got a character walking around the moon (well, not THE moon but Europa) trying to find his dad which, cool, standard sci-fi stuff. But then like, there’s a big benevolent alien that saves the protag for no real reason and just fast travels him to his destination. But then like, the alien is never processed? You set up that all the bunkers were going dark and everyone was dying and I thought it was gonna be a reveal of like oh no theyre not dead the alien actually saved them! But apparently it didnt? Or I thought you were gonna make the alien bring him to his dad or like his dad would be like “yeah i got saved by this alien too and we’re gonna use the alien to save everyone!” or something. But nope. The alien just comes in, drops the protag off, and that’s it. Other than that, though, the story is just kinda boring. We dont really get much sense of a protag’s personality besides “save dad” and the bunkers being dead are kinda just w/e. So you have an alien that you did nothing with and a generic story otherwise. Carl Killer Miller I don’t think this is a good story, but man it was fun to riff on in the judgechat, which might be why it got spared. I don’t know if this story was supposed to be funny, but it’s got some really nice bits in it. The robber baron guy is a great character. His plan is so loving stupid it’s perfect, making robot hobos of his rivals to make them look bad. I love him just casually insulting a hobo he grabbed off the streets and not understanding it. The best bit, though, is him yelling at the hobo “I will ruin your name homeless person who lives on the street!” The problem with the story is everything that isnt the robber baron. He shouldve been the protagonist and this mightve been a way more fun story to read. Also, the ending just being the guy expositing is kinda weak and I think that also wouldve been solved by making the bad guy the protagonist. Thranguy This has like, some actual emotional weight, which was surprising given the lack of it throughout this entire week. The issue is that, perhaps just due to the format or the story you were trying to tell, it wasnt really that interesting. The character cant really do anything, and since the story is just recollection, there’s no immediate action. The issue is that the story is, for some reason, focused on explaining the planet but like, no offense to ice planet #41243, but i dont care about the mechanisms of the planet, i care about the people on the planet. I mean, this format is a classic, right? Doomed person writing a letter to their loved one. But this one doesnt land because i feel like, while there’s some emotional weight, it doesnt come together. Too much time spent on explantation, not enough spent on examining the emotions and history of a dying person with no one there to save them. arbitaryfairy This is my kind of story. This is similar to cptn_dr’s, actually, in that it’s about a small moment in a lovely future, but the reason it works is because it’s centered much more on the characters. It’s three rebellious teenagers making a fire because gently caress the man, and im about it. However, I think the story is a little bit bloated with characters at the moment. I like the janitor, in that I like that you set him up earlier in the story and then use him later on, and while the three characters are fine, i feel like, giving the word count you were in, you had to juggle too many characters. Centering it on two character specific might help focus this story a bit more, because right now, it’s a nice little story about kids doing a small thing in a lovely future, but it doesnt do much more.
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Jan 24, 2020 23:01
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I arrived at the scene of the crime. It was trashed, every lamp and table was smashed. There was food everywhere. Evidence of a bare-knuckle brawl that left one of its participants pushing up daisies. It was up to me to figure out who ended who.Entenzahn posted:Shellton Cracks: The Case of the Missing Parsley Great intro. Hits the notes of "poo poo is going down" and being really funny. quote:I looked nothing like a root, so the sogface was either taking the piss out of me or high as a fridge bulb. It tried to shut the plexiglas drawer once again, but my shell was in the way, and he was weak like a glass of vinegar left to marinate in ice cubes on a summer day. I let myself in. Setting up the shell angle early in a nondistracting way. Good finesse quote:I found the missing parsley up in a corner on the first floor. The leaf pattern matched the sketch: shaggy frame, smooth leaves, one full bunch. Bit of a browning on the stems. Lost some weight, but alive. Chalk one up for the good guys. I really like the world that you've established. It's very flavourful. Try to describe what a look of pure terror would look like. Eyes wide, mouth agape, hand over mouth maybe, ya know? quote:Around me, the world faded. Black. Wet. Hot. Burning. Bubbles rushed past me. I wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come out. My insides did the screaming for me. Scalding hot. Hellwater. Fluids pressed up against my inner membrane, wanting to break out and escape, the melting and the rebonding all the sick chemistry, but my shell had already toughened up, scarred a thousand times over. It was forever. It was hell. The wordplay works really well. quote:Mama Mayo’s was the kind of box that looked just pristine enough to fit into the fridge upstate, but if you looked close you noticed the little dents that betrayed its seedy nature. The crumbs had led me all the way here. At this point, I was pretty sure I knew who I’d find. Action is good and it doesn't bog down the story. Good payoff with the eggshell. quote:That caught him by surprise. Gave me the break I needed. He flinched away, and I followed it up with a headbutt that almost split my shell open. He slipped off me and stopped moving. Waldorf had always packed a punch, but he’d never gotten around to fixing that glass chin. Eggscellent overall. Not much for me to nitpick. Strong contender. Sitting Here posted:Hobbs and Bailey Do Jack poo poo Great descriptors. Excellent characters. I wasn't sure about the intro at first (Two people standing around doing nothing.) but the way you unravel the underlying narrative I ended up really liking it. A real mystery story. quote:Bailey crossed her arms and slouched against the slick concrete wall. “I mean—how am I supposed to learn advanced detectiving from you if all we do is wait for lowlifes to start trouble? We’re down here patching bullet holes in this city when we should be doing...doing crime surgery, or something.” Good dialogue. Very natural. quote:A Lincoln Town Car sharked through the rain, rolling slowly down the street, headlights glaring hungrily into the night. It came to a stop in front of the detectives’ alcove, the vehicle's occupants obscured by darkly tinted windows. Bailey felt that tension return, felt unseen eyes looking on her with unknowable intent. Didn’t matter that she was Detective Bailey. As far as the denizens of the night were concerned, cops were cops. Minor thing but the denizens of the underworld really do care about the different types of cops. I understand it's contributing to the noir narrative and it works in adding to the atmosphere so I understand going in that direction. quote:Hobbs offered a cool nod to the inscrutable window, and a moment later the Lincoln moved on, its taillights making a red wake on the rain-slick street. It's stuff like this that really contributes to the enjoyment of rereading a piece. Very well laid out. quote:“Come on kid, don’t leave me hanging. You were teeing up for a big speech or something, I could feel it. An idealistic manifesto on what it means to be a detective.” The little dry dark humour ties it all together very well. quote:Bailey held her face very still but her hands clenched and unclenched of their own accord, leaving painful little half moons in her palms. The air was too thick to breathe. Nice ending. Wasn't expecting to get my heart warmed on noir week but here we are. If I had to nitpick I'd say use hypens for things like 'half-moons'. Very well crafted overall. *** I read the smashed room around me. It looked like one of them was a funny man. They must of got a few shots in with a fish and other things from the fridge. drat person even threw the kitchen sink. The other was more intimate, getting close and personal. But who got the better of who? It wasn't clear. Whoever it was used the rug to move the body. I was thinking they must of had help, but then I realized some of this mess was actually bloody drag marks. Jesus, even the clean up was messy. Only it wasn't going out the front, it was going out the back. I followed it. Of course. The garbage was in the alley. The rug was a rolled up and half tucked in the can. Thankfully it didn't stick yet. I pulled it out. Shame, it is a nice rug. Heavy though. Definitely had a body in it. I unrolled it carefully there in the alley. Ah poo poo, it was a dame. I had my answer, and another bottle waiting for me. Looks like I won't be croaking any time soon either. I kicked the body off the rug. It was a blood red carpet anyway. A quick wash and it'd look great in my office. *** Winner: Entenzahn Tough one! I felt bad picking one over the other but ties are bullshit. 'Shellton Cracks' made me laugh a lot and that's a tough thing to pull off in writing. Mad respect to both of you, both these stories are amazing.
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