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  • Locked thread
Dec 15, 2006

Come fight terrifying creatures in the THUNDERDOME!



Oct 23, 2010

Legit Cyberpunk

Bigup DJ posted:

Does anyone have reading on how to do a good mystery story?

I approve of your sneaky attempt to get someone's word count halved.

Apr 7, 2009

crabrock posted:

signing up now in case some sort of stupid limit gets instituted.

This, in.

Anathema Device
Dec 22, 2009

by Ion Helmet

What the hell, I'm in for this week.

The Last
100 words

At the end he despairs.

He looks the dragon in the eye. He could step into that pupil sword and all, it's so large. Step into it like a doorway.

“Dragonslayer.” He feels the dragon's voice in the shaking rock. “I am the last. Will you end the age of dragons? Will you leave the forests to be cut, the fields to be tilled? What foe will be worthy of you, in this age of men?”

Behind the dragon, smoke still rises off the distant city. “None shall.”

At the end he despairs, but sword raised, he steps forward.

Apr 29, 2012

by XyloJW

Lion of Anathia

99 words

Androx Vanos waded through scarlet. His spatha, Death Herself, sliced armor and bone like straw.

The Horned King’s banner waved yonder. Androx rushed it, his last two Imperial Bodyguards running behind.

“Dromel!” The Imperator roared. “Come to me!”

The Horned King shoved aside one of his own men to see his enemy. His rams-horns dipped, as if in a bow. Dromel cut down an Anathian cataphract with a single blow of his greatsword.

A path was cleared.

Two unstoppable kings rushed together. Greatsword met spatha and rectangular shield. Thunder boomed. Blood sprayed. A kingdom fell, beneath a lion’s paws.

Dec 3, 2007

sebmojo posted:

:siren:No more epic stories. :siren:

Oct 9, 2011

I am in on this as well.

Beast Pussy
Nov 29, 2006

You are dark inside

The Devil in the Details 100 words
It was cold at the crossroad, much colder than it had been all those years ago. As the time crawled steadily closer to midnight, Ernest recalled his last meeting with the devil.
"So you make me the smartest man alive, and in return I give you my soul?" Ernest asked.
"Yes," came the gravely voice of the figure in front of him.
"And there ain't no way I can get it back?"
The figure shook its head wordlessly.
With a handshake, Ernest was incredibly bright, but felt strangely hollow inside.
But now, wise enough to recognize his error, he'd come back to correct his double negative.

Oct 23, 2010

Legit Cyberpunk

Beast Pussy posted:

The Devil in the Details 100 words
It was cold at the crossroad, much colder than it had been all those years ago. As the time crawled steadily closer to midnight, Ernest recalled his last meeting with the devil.
"So you make me the smartest man alive, and in return I give you my soul?" Ernest asked.
"Yes," came the gravely voice of the figure in front of him.
"And there ain't no way I can get it back?"
The figure shook its head wordlessly.
With a handshake, Ernest was incredibly bright, but felt strangely hollow inside.
But now, wise enough to recognize his error, he'd come back to correct his double negative.


Rainbow Unicorn
Aug 4, 2004

I'm in this week

Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!


Nov 4, 2011

LPer, Reviewer, Mad Welshman

(Yes, that's a self portrait)


Apr 29, 2012

by XyloJW

The Saddest Rhino posted:

E: Someone write this too:

Some believe I was actually entering last week, tho I wasn't because ORGY OF THE DEAD means everyone bangin in the orgy is DEAD which can't happen in a world without DEATH

here's the story


Somewhere in Romania...

Vlad Blackdickula held Suzy McHugetits' hand tightly, passionately. Sweatily.

"You're really going to enjoy this party, I think, my dear," he intoned, looking deeply and passionately and sexily into her big beautiful, voluptuous, sexy, round, eyes. Then he stared down at her generous, pillowy cleavage.

"I certainly hope so!" Suzy McFunbags tittered. "I do so love parties." She opened her full, red lips in a pant of passionate anticipation. Sexy anticipation.

Vlad leaned in for a kiss. His thin, manly lips met her full, red, pillowy womanly lips. They kissed passionately, like two people in deep lust. Sexy, passionate lust.

The limousine came to a stop outside a magnificent, incredible castle. The kind of castle where they make movies about muscular, brooding knights and beautiful, lusty ladies. And vampires.

"Is this all yours?" Suzy McLargebreasts shrieked. "It's so magnificent! It's incredible!"

"It certainly is," Vlad returned. "All mine. Please, my dear, come inside, and see the wonderful party we have waiting for you." He held out a long-fingered hand. Suzy took it and they climbed out of the long, black, long limousine together. They walked along a path paved with old, stately, impressive stones. Huge, oaken, iron-bound gates opened for their entry. Inside was a party like Suzy McBigjuggs had never seen! Men and women in amazing, fantastic, horror-movie costumes made love on every couch, chair, table, and even the hard, cold, stone floors! Suzy McBusty's hands flew to her face.

"It's a costume party!" she wondered. "Why didn't you tell me? All I have is this skimpy little sexy red dress and sexy red heels," she burst out.

It was true. She saw on a couch in front of her, a very large, muscular man wrapped completely in mummy bandages. He was thrusting his very large, muscular penis between the enormous breasts of a woman painted up like the Bride of Frankenstein, from the movie Bride of Frankenstein. On the floor to her left, another very large, even more muscular black (very black) man dressed up as a Haitian voodoo zombie was double-teaming another woman (with enormous breasts) dressed up as one of the Brides of Dracula (from the Bride of Dracula movie) along with a large, muscular man wearing the best ghost costume she had ever seen! It looked like he really was transparent, see-through. They also both had very large penises.

"Why," Vlad ejaculated. "Those aren't costumes, my dear."

"What do you mean?" Suzy McJumboknockers gasped.

Vlad threw back his head and laughed, a long, loud, deep, rich laugh. Suzy O'Balloonboobs suddenly noticed, for the first time, how long, sharp, and scary his teeth were. "My dear," he chuckled, "I mean that this party is an orgy...of the DEAD! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

Martello fucked around with this message at 02:13 on Jan 15, 2014

Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.

Listen up you loving, vile, scum-of-the-earth-newbie cock smugglers. I've had a long, long day of nothing but school and I want to unwind.

If you have written less than two TD entries and you want a free crit, the first two to speak up will get a free crit post haste.

edit: You can reach me in IRC. none crit left.

Mercedes fucked around with this message at 03:45 on Jan 15, 2014

Oct 16, 2013


I'm in this week - my first go in the Thunderdome.

Mystery for 1000, Alex.

Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.

Week #75 - He's Not Quite Dead
Author: No Longer Flaky

Life's a Rat-Race

Alright, Flaky, lets start with the macro problems of your story. Essentially, your story everything interesting about it right about the time the two chaps get up from the ground. After that exact point, everything else is so mind numbingly boring and pointless.

Seriously, you had the good fun parts in the opening; you think the race is gonna be a regular type of running down the stairs horseplaying and whatnot, and then they jump out of the loving window. I was digging it. Then there was a complete loving 180 degree turn in story tone and direction. Literally, there wasn’t even a segway into the next scene.

I suspect that you were making the story up as you go along. I highly recommend for your next entry before you write one word in your rough draft, make up a summary. It only has to be a few sentences in length, but it needs to include the plot of your story and the motivations of all the characters in it.

Keep that poo poo as a reference when you’re writing up your rough draft and you loving try your goddamn hardest to convey motivations. Now, on with micro poo poo.

Life’s a Rat-Race posted:

“Race ya to the car?” David asked. “Winner buys the first round at the bar?”

“Sure,” Sam replied. “Start on three?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” David said.

[Personal pet peeve of mine. Spell out your numbers when its in a dialogue unless the character is saying a date or something. I feel it looks better.]“3. . . 2. . . 1. . . GO!!” Sam saidIf you want to purvey that Sam cheated, you should have written “Sam said AS he jumped out the window.” The way you have it, he wasn’t cheating at all. He counted and then went when he said go.. Then jumped out the window. For clarity sake, seperate a character’s actions as well as their dialogues into different paragraphs. That way, you don’t have to over use the character’s name like you’re doing here.David followed a second later. Fuckin’ cheater. David knew he shouldn’t have let him count. The air whizzed past his face and the pressure on his eyes made them water. Don’t tell us what’s going to happen, and then a sentence or to show that action happen.In a few seconds he’d impact with the ground. He made his body as compact as possible against the air-resistance to gain speed, but he still didn’t catch up with Sam. Stupid fat-rear end Sam. Sam smashed into the pavement, his fat belly splitting up the middle like a paper bag giving way after being over-stuffed with orangeslol, gross.. The two arms he had used to shield his face snapped, his wrist bones ripping through the skin in his arms. Then David hit the pavement himself and blacked out.

A few minutes later David came to, his body slowly pulling itself back together, the bones in his arm fusing back together. He looked over at Sam, whose fat was worming it’s way back into his belly. He hadn’t regained consciousness yet, so victory was still possible. He rolled to his back, and took a couple deep breaths, his car was only a few feet away. His arms, legs, ribs, ankles, and collarbones burned as the shattered bones fused back together.

“I’m gonna beat you Sam, you better hurry uppppppDon’t do this. Have you ever tried to pronounce all those p’s? The importance of reading your poo poo out loud.!” David called mockinglyTry hard not to use -ly words. They most of the time don’t really add anything. Describe David doing something in a mocking fashion instead..

Sam groaned, a low guttural sound, his head rolled back and forth as he squirmed on the ground. The muscles in his neck had lost all semblance of strength from whiplash. “Uhnnnnnnnnn,” gurgled out his lips through gritted cracked teeth.

David stood up, he stumbled into the hood of the car. “I win!” He yelled, then he did a jig.

Sam groaned again and slowly stood up. “How do you recover so quickly?” Sam grumbled, “You got some drat good genetics.” Again, say it out loud. Sounds forced.

Look at this lovely scene break!

The tracks were down the street from office building, they got there for the beginning of happy hour. They made their way down the long opening concourse then found their regular seats at the bar, overlooking the tracks.

“Mac Green racing today Eddie?” David asked.

“Nope, his bike is still being repaired. He should be good to go tomorrow or the next day they’re thinking,” Eddie said. “The usual for you boys?”

“Yep,” David replied.

“Two pitchers coming up,” Eddie said. Look at all this filler dialogue. Wasteful.

A low gumble came rolled through the stadium, the ten racers had entered the track. Only a few minutes left until the race started, betting was about to close.

“Any tips on these guys Eddie?”

“I heard this new guy Rodriguez has been tearing up the pro tracks in Mexico. He’s going places, he wont be racing in this league for too long. Can’t see these guys touching him,” Eddie said.

“Good enough for me,” David said. He placed a small bet on Rodriguez, using the computer terminal on the bar. “You guys hear they passed down the verdict for the ponzi scheme fucker. What was his name,”

“Broeger?” Sam asked, “that trial is still going on?”

“Yeah- Broeger. They passed down the sentence, he’s getting a month in the vats. Can you imagine that? A whole month in the vats, acid burning away at your skin. Constant pain,” David shuddered, “remind me to never steal.” OMFG this is dragging on and on and nothing is happening.

“Shiiiiit,” Sam said, and finished off his beer and signaled for another. There's no rhythm to your prose. Sometimes it's choppy, sometimes it's smooth but it's never a rhyme or reason. “Serves him right ruining all those people’s lives. Wonder how many people are homeless cause of that poo poo.”

“Still, a month? That’s a long loving time.” David asked.

The last few seconds ticked off the clock on the monitor then betting was closed. The monitor switched to a top down view of the racers as they lined up. Rodriguez was riding a ruby red cycle, and was in the furthest lane on the outside. With a shot from a starters pistol the race was commenced.

Rodriguez got off to a bad start, he fell to the back of the pack. Rounding the first turn one of the home town favorites, Big Deke, smashed his front wheel into the back-wheel of the racer in front of him, causing him to lose control and smash into the wall. His cycle smashing into two pieces he rolled four times ending sprawled on the track. Rodriguez ran over one of the downed riders arms, his back wheel swinging wide from the bump, but with a jerk he regained control. gently caress, that was a close one. loving Deke. Come on Rod, lets go.

Rodriguez closed the distance, then took a hand off the handlebar and began fumbling with something in his pants leg. Driving one handed at these types of speeds was dangerous. What the gently caress is he doing? He’s loving around with my money, not taking this poo poo seriously. Rodriguez brought his second hand back to the steering wheel, but it looked like something long was in his hand.

Coming to the final straightaway Rodriguez closed the distance fast, he had taken second place and only Deke was in front of him.gently caress, Deke’s letting him catch up, he’s gonna try and take him out. Deke, you loving poo poo. Rodriguez pulled alongside Deke. Deke attempted to ram him, but Rodriguez responded quickly, and then smashed him in the face with a metal rod. Deke tumbled off his bike, which rolled riderless into the grass in the center of the track. Rodriguez crossed the finish line in first, his hand with the rod clenched in it raised in victory.

“Fuckin’ told ya didn’t I Davey?” Eddie said with a grin.

“That you did. Next rounds on me Sammy,” David said. The clean-up crews were making quick work of the carnage on the track. A retired fire truck trundled along the track to wash away the pools of blood left on the track.

“This next race is going to be slippery, O’Connor was always good with water on the track.”

“O’Connor it is then,” David said.

The second half is poo poo. Complete and utter poo poo. Eddie was just there to move poo poo along. What the gently caress happened to Sam? Okay, I was going to ask what happened to Sam, but apparently the dialogue is so samey that the characters speaking could have been anyone and it wouldn’t have made a loving difference. Work on adding character to your characters.

Honestly, you could have easily cut the later half and ended up with a better story. Also, Rat-Race is not what you think it means.

Jan 12, 2012

Tr*ckin' and F*ckin' all the way to tha

The Duty – curlingiron
Unlike many entries this week, your piece is an actual piece of Epic fiction. Your descriptions are vivid and help set the tone. My biggest issue is your phrasing. The second sentence goes on way too long and I noticed two punctuation errors. I understand what you were trying to do with the last sentence but it is a jarring change from the fantasy that defines the rest of the piece.

Bear Mountain – Assoonasitits
Lacks the overwrought poetic descriptions that define most Epics. I would focus on improving that in your next submission. There is also something weird going on with your prose that causes me to lose my sense of rhythm while reading your submission. Your piece raises too many questions for its length and is otherwise really dull.

You Always Remember Your First – Tyrannosaurus
This is actually my favorite submission, even if it does not strictly comply with the prompt. You’ve made a short story that captures a lot of comedy and emotion for its length. Jake and Adam sound like real people. If I were to criticize anything, it would probably be the last sentence in the third paragraph. I am not a fan of the repetition. Otherwise, I really enjoyed the story.

Unyielding – Entenzahn
Your entire first paragraph does nothing to move the plot forward or tell me about the heathen god. This would be acceptable in a larger work of fiction but you needed to be economic with your words. Some of your word choices are questionable and I do not really understand whether the content is meant to be metaphorical or real.

People really liked killing God for their prompt this week, didn’t they?

Dark Strings – Black Griffon
After last week, I am beginning to suspect that goons have some unresolved baggage involving religion. Your descriptions are well-done and give me a good mental image about what is happening. I particularly like you equating the demon’s explosion “with the force of a small-yield nuke.” My biggest issue is your ending but that might just be because so many people ended on one-liners.

Depths – Mr_Wolf
Meh. It is an epic struggle but your descriptions do not jive well with the setting. If the “blue and white” is meant to be crewmembers, then that could be clearer. The middle paragraph is badly constructed. You are either missing or misusing punctuation and it is really distracting. There is nothing that connects “freezing salt water shuts the captain up” to your dialogue despite it being included on the same line.

Life sucks – No Longer Flaky
Your story is not an Epic but an extended description. Unfortunately, I am not sure what you want to describe because your prose is really vague. I think it might be an eye, but I have no idea. Your story leaves me with the impression that you do not know how a comma works.

Heartseeker – JamieTheD
The submission tries but fails to achieve a sustained elevation of style. There should be an “and” between “a battered iron helm” and “a fur loincloth.” There is a disconnect between the distant, impersonal description in the first paragraph and the second paragraph, where the narrator describes a fight against the subject. Reads like Skyrim fan fiction.

Untitled – Sitting Here
One of the few pieces submitted this week that covers all the characteristics an Epic should have. It also has an identifiable conflict and resolution, which is a plus. The descriptions do their job and make me want to read more of the story. It’s a breath of fresh air compared to several other pieces.

Mar 21, 2010

Stop loving posting epics you idiots that thing's over now. You can still crit them.

In, I guess, though I'm half tempted to immediately drop out in sympathy for the poor judges. The dome's gotten crazy full these last few weeks.

Captain Trips
May 23, 2013
The sudden reminder that I have no fucking clue what I'm talking about

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

I'm half tempted to immediately drop out in sympathy for the poor judges. The dome's gotten crazy full these last few weeks.

I'm totally tempted, and will give in to my temptations.

Didn't even get a critique for what I posted last week, and now I'm being forced into this dumb "brawl" thing because I had the audacity to post in a thread.

I just wanted to write a little thing here and there, the 'Dome clearly isn't for me.


Mar 21, 2010

Captain Trips posted:

I'm totally tempted, and will give in to my temptations.

Didn't even get a critique for what I posted last week, and now I'm being forced into this dumb "brawl" thing because I had the audacity to post in a thread.

I just wanted to write a little thing here and there, the 'Dome clearly isn't for me.

There's a lot of entries. The judges have divvied them up but we're real people with real lives doing this for free: don't get pissy if your crit isn't in RIGHT NOW. Rhino and Carbon's crits aren't late: mine were just super early this week because Tuesday was a public holiday and I had some time to screw around.

Captain Trips
May 23, 2013
The sudden reminder that I have no fucking clue what I'm talking about

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

There's a lot of entries. The judges have divvied them up but we're real people with real lives doing this for free: don't get pissy if your crit isn't in RIGHT NOW. Rhino and Carbon's crits aren't late: mine were just super early this week because Tuesday was a public holiday and I had some time to screw around.

The crit is only a minor complaint, and I understand what you're saying. It's more the high-pressure, sperg-out, DON'T POST IF YOU'RE NOT WRITING nonsense that I'm walking away from. And that stupid brawl that I was entered into against my will.

Mar 21, 2010

Captain Trips posted:

The crit is only a minor complaint, and I understand what you're saying. It's more the high-pressure, sperg-out, DON'T POST IF YOU'RE NOT WRITING nonsense that I'm walking away from. And that stupid brawl that I was entered into against my will.
You can't be entered in a brawl against your will. I missed that in the thread if it happened, but you feel free to raise your middle finger to that person if you didn't agree to it in the first place.

Rules about shitposting are going up because traffic to this thread has just about tripled in the last month, and it's totally out of control. It's moving too fast to make any sense of: we're just trying to keep it under control to make the thread a little easier to read.

If you really want to keep posting those epics, make a thread about it. Post ten of them. Hell, post twenty, and invite other people to join in. It's a cool exercise, but I'm just trying to make it easier for people to follow a kinda-crazy thread in here.

Aug 2, 2002

Captain Trips posted:

The crit is only a minor complaint, and I understand what you're saying. It's more the high-pressure, sperg-out, DON'T POST IF YOU'RE NOT WRITING nonsense that I'm walking away from. And that stupid brawl that I was entered into against my will.

dude wants to leave because we tell him not to post.

instead just keeps posting and not leaving.

this is awesome.

Captain Trips
May 23, 2013
The sudden reminder that I have no fucking clue what I'm talking about

Meinberg posted:

Well, since I'm pretty sure that poo poo posting is not allowed in the Dome, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you're asking for a brawl. In which, I will oblige you. Shall we say something related to the Mafia, due in by this time next week?

Or are you going to bitch out and make some poo poo posts like the lovely poster you are?

Mercedes posted:


Your prompt, you idiot newbies. :siren: The Amish Mafia :siren:

You have 500 words and one week. Make it happen you lovely humans.

Middle finger raised, then.

I guess I'll hang around and pick and choose the prompts I like, like I intended to do in the first place.

The Saddest Rhino
Apr 29, 2009

Behold my brain the golden throne of my consciousness. In here I am seated. Shackled. From here I police the land.

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

Rhino and Carbon's crits aren't late: mine were just super early this week because Tuesday was a public holiday and I had some time to screw around.

Work turns out to be a little tougher this week which means my crits are late. And there are likely going to be very unfair ones too, especially if I hate your piece. I'm going to make an exception and allow you to PM me or hit me on IRC to bitch at me why I am The Wrongest Rhino. If you feel like I totally should read your story and crit, ok do the same too.

I was already reading a bunch and making comments before being assigned Stories #16-30. So some of you get some crits.

1 Chairchucker Death Where Is Thy… Oh What’s That Word, Bees Do It

This is a very Chairchucker piece. It’s not great, but it’s not terrible either. I chuckled at a few bits where they talk about how Lee made them suffer through 270 million years of trial and the sentence being 270 million push ups. I know this was written very quickly and briskly, like “a joke is at the tip of my tongue, I need to get it out now”. I wish you let it brew a little bit longer so the jokes are funnier.

2 Captain Trips Undying and Unemployed

The characterisation is all right. I was interested in the family conversation even though I suspected where it was going, especially because you have capitalised the sentence where he said he got fired. Your eyes tend to wander to that sort of thing unconsciously.

I don’t like the punchline. I wish you just made it that it was just about the guy losing his job as an undertaker, and the consequences after. Rendering him the grim reaper sounds like you forgot how to end it so “ok here joke now cool I is gud riter.” Plan better next time.

3 Meinberg Can't An Old Robot Probe the Mysteries of the Universe and His Own Creation In Peace?

This reeks a lot of pretension. I’m going to admit, I’m not a hard sci fi person. A story that begins with “The tumbling of cyphers begins to coalesce, numbers and sigils aligning into perfect four-dimensional arrays. I pull at the central block and the obstruction falls away.” is not really that attractive to me, it makes me think “is this guy playing some spaceship simulator MMO?”

I don’t really “get” the story. It feels like reading the office life of a guy in middle management dealing with a bunch of people being assholes to him, and him thinking about his retirement package. I want there to be more story or meaning behind the Ionia plotline and his retirement plotline, but it feels like a prequel of an actual story.

4 Mr_Wolf Who Needs God

You got the atmosphere down. You got the kids’ personalities down. You got their backstories down, you got the way their motives and desires affect their reaction to the death of the 45 year old down.

What you didn’t get down was the plot structure. in that on first read I have no idea what the story is. I’m still not entirely sure. As far as I know, here’s your sequence:

- Danny hits a truck
- Joe (leader) does misogynistic stuff, then hits truck
- Tommy appears with the news
- [Sudden complete change of direction of story to Tommy’s backstory]
- They go into bunker and talk about God

I’m interested in seeing what these kids are doing and what they are doing. I like some things you have done, like describing Tommy’s DIY tattoos, and Joe’s line on outliving Gods. Your backstory of Tommy, however, serves as a major distraction that sticks out like a sore thumb, throwing the pacing and plot to the backburner just so we can read about Tommy being Tommy. I reread it without the backstory and your entry became better.

5 Quidnose Sting like a 01100010

I feel that your first scene is superfluous with lots of sci-fi worldbuilding stuff thrown in to show us how nice and advanced, yet corrupt in the core the world is in the future. Really, I like reading about stuff like this, but they did not do much to the plot, and I think it could have been cut down a little. In fact, your first scene and the second scene could be easily combined together to create one coherent sequence. It would also give you enough wordcount to deal with the third scene better.

I like stuff like Ten mistaking his pang of hunger as guilt, because it is a great character moment. I don’t like the robot’s speech style, because I didn’t get what it was saying half the time (A close example of what you were going for I’ve seen is: “QUERY: WHAT IS THIS.” “STATEMENT: THIS IS A COCK.”).

Seriously, you are a solid writer so I was a little disappointed you got curtailed due to the format of flash fiction this week, especially as the world is interesting enough I want to read more.

6 JamieTheD Fascinating

I don’t understand “it’s the ah word”
I don’t understand why Marek has a shotgun on the dumbass earthling.
It reads a lot like Wall-E except without the charm. I think the only bit I like was when he picked up the dog.

7 The Leper Colon V Escape Attempt

cute idea re: necro virus not dying. Execution - vomit

8 Baudolino Joufyl Sypheus.

Too much stuff cramped into it, but it’s actually interesting and makes me keep reading? But what is the point of the story. Also, I played on youtube that song and it’s “what the poo poo is this”

Lots of technical errors. Still have punctuation issues, but a lot better since Rural Rentboy. You still can't get your names' spelling straight.

Jerimiah is such a silly name, btw.

9 God Over Djinn What we had never done before

I like this story. It works, especially when it's revealed at the end that Lack did not anticipate dying was a permanent thing.

High pile for me. In fact I was pushing this to win.

10 Guiness13 Forever

Not bad. But could have just thrown out the whole prompt of "alive for centuries" stuff and just put him in a coma where he's eternally awake. That would mean he's in his own world where death is not a release. Makes the piece stronger.

11 docbeard Old Man

Huge pacing issues. Lots of ellipses in the conversations, rendering dialogue unnatural. Sounds like anime.

A lot of extraneous stuff which did not need detail. I was bored most of the time. The whole first scene is fluff.

12 Mercedes To Beard or Not To Beard

What in the gently caress is going on

13 Seldom Posts We Conquered Death So That We Could Exult In Murder

Not enamoured with it. Idea of murderers being used as furnitures is a unique perspective but I just cannot picture that happening. Like, are they physically bedstands and dressers? I don't really get it.

The pacing had a sudden change when the poisoning occurred, as if you realised you had not enough words to use.

I wasn't altogether happy with the letter either.

Overall, could be much stronger.

16 Nikaer Drekin Vertigo Blues

You know what, I wanted this story to be cute. Young romance, star-crossed lovers, saying cute funny things to each other and be all marvelled about how in love they are, and when she falls he catches her and they're serious but they're still in love.

Well, it's not that, so I'm disappointed. The dialogue is just, well, clunky.

Especially with the exposition. Jesus, why.

Could use improvement.

17 Rainbow Unicorn Man to Machine

Pacing problems. Don't put an expositional thing in between each conversation. It's tiring.

Otherwise, the story is fine. There's a bit too much backstory on why death death death immortality here and there but I can deal with that. Charlie is interesting, but I feel like they could be doing something a bit more special than what seems like just skydiving.

The sense of location is also odd. I was a bit surprised they were so high up in the air, and the conversation doesn't really make logical sense other than for exposition purposes.

18 ThePopeOfFun It Is Really Only God Who Kills

I'm sorry but this is incredibly tiring to read. I'm sure I'm going to be called a philistine but I had to read so many entries this week and a story which is full of huge chunks of paragraphs, with so many happening happening happening at once and in such rapid succession, where I can't even tell at one point where the story is progressing to, I just can't appreciate it.

There is just too much going on and I don't get the reference to Herschel in the end.

19 petrol blue Business

Interesting concept, although somewhat predictable. I don't think you established enough of what the protagonist was there for, other than him being a homicide detective and this Toombs guy is really suspicious.

I think your ending suffered a little from wordcount issues. But otherwise, it's all right.

20 Sitting Here Spaceless Dementia

One of the first stories I read that didn't even bother dealing with "why aren't people dying"

So, I like it. I like it enough that I reread it. There's obvious thought being put into a spaceship's functions and how age would cause things to go out of control. I like the characterisation of Linne and Desera and how devastating Desera's catching of "hope" is considered a disease by Linne.

High pile.

21 DreadNite The Genesis

There is a line that says:

"Acutely aware that this interaction is being broadcast live around the world, I turn to her as steadfast and confident as my unsteady heart allowed and only manage to utter “I love you”."

This is not good writing. This is cramming lots of words into a sentence without care to sound smart and failing.

The beginning is the Hunger Games. When BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM I WANT YOU IN MY ROOM happens, I'm tired and bored and I don't even know what is going on, other than there being a lot, a lot of adjectives and words that don't mean anything.

It is the reader's, especially a judge's, fault to not continue on with the story. But the writer should not make it harder for the reader to do so.

22 Tyrannosaurus Thoughts on a Cold Winter's Day

"It could marvel at how unique it is. It could despair at its sameness. "

This is the best line of the story.

It's trying to be poignant. I think it got muddled up by way too many words, when simplicity would have made it more poetic and sad.

I didn't like the "oh well snow can't think, psyche" bit. It's too contrived. The revelation of the skull of the last man, same thing.

It's ok, I guess.

23 Erogenous Beef An Obvious Reference to Hamlet, or Maybe Nietzsche, Man

Jesus Christ the ending. It hurt so much.

It's silly and it doesn't make sense half the time, but this story made me smile the most, and I like a lot of stupid things like the names of everything and Zombie Saladin, and Stoner Jesus. I was questioning why the curries kill zombies off, then I get to the pun.

That pun.

It's worse than Immortali-tea.

High pile.

24 Kaishai Endless Night

Good story. There's a melancholy to the mood, punctuated by the morning glories around the bodies, which work well for me. The characters' actions make sense, their dialogue are intriguing, and the shock that comes during the calm made more surprising just because of how quiet the whole story had been.

It takes some finesse to not destroy the atmosphere of a story when something violent occurs in the calm.

High pile.

25 Djeser Man After Man

I enjoyed this - very fun story, of cavemans which keep regrowing their heads and limbs in all the wrong ways.

There are some bits that could be handled better, like how he could not feel fun anymore when the new head kept thinking about himself. It's a tough challenge you have set for yourself, so I can't blame you, but it definitely could use some fixing.

I wish it didn't end with the fang-cow attacking him (I would prefer he accidentally engineered his head's demise). But I like the ending you were going for.

High pile.

26 crabrock neverstop

Ok I know it's the sun.

I can deal with the lack of capitalisation, but the random absence of punctuation here and there? Shaking my head at you now. However, it's fine enough and kept my attention although I know you definitely wrote this in less than 20-30 minutes.

27 Schneider Heim To You, 50 Years From Now

I can see your writing improving as time goes on. I like the characterisation you gave the two where they argue over the child's gender. I don't like, however, some of the exposition stuff like Plavinsky's way too detailed explanation and the "human race blah blah blah" dialogue.

I like your last line. There are some clunkiness here and there. Your story was ok, but it definitely could be improved.

28 ReptileChillock Detritus

I can't really tell, ultimately, whether his brains were transplanted into the computer of the ship's navigational system and he was stuck there forever. It sounds like that's what you are doing.

Which makes the appearance of sentences about computers all that more confusing.

If that's the case, that bit where he hugs a girl, that emotional impact, would be good. It's a bit of a mess here and there though. Why didn't you use all the words?

29 Amused Frog The Artist

I think you should have focused more on the similarity between the attendant and the artist, that they are actually performing pretty much the same thing/role, except one has more prominence than the other because of marketing/whatever.

As of now, it's fine, but it can be improved. I enjoyed some bits here and there, but it feels a little dead without that emotional connection with the protagonist.

30 Entenzahn Sport of Kings

Ok, this is fun. There's a lot of wrong and hosed up things but I understand why you are doing them. Very over the top and ridiculous.

Could be greatly improved by actually reading like a sports article. Right now, I can't actually tell whether I'm supposed to be rooting fro Ghana, or America. There's also not enough mention of Goreball, which is surprising since it's the game.

You have too many run-on sentences.

32 Peel Closure

Dialogue works. A bit too much, but works. High pile.

33 Chair Bird Paradise

This was my push to lose.

Need to proofread. Lots and lots of proofreading. There are too many issues and my brains can't focus. Pacing doesn't work. Feels like writer has forgotten what he was trying to say at several points. Punctuation issues so numerous.

Very troubling implication in this story, when the large man appears and does this:

"He laughed in a good natured way, throwing his head back, his smile lighting up his face. He patted me on the back in an act of sympathy and said “Yes my friend, they get sick but they do not die, it happens to all of us, this is inevitable.”"

Because the first thing that jumps into my mind is the protagonist, who is passive and accept everything as ok, is totally cool with the idea of these friendly, happy wardens operating a rape camp full of immortal sex slaves.

You probably did not intend that but Death of the Author, etc.

34 QuoProQuid Death in Dorset

I like this. High pile. Very Mignola-ish and the last line is killer.

40 Bigup DJ The Supermen

Has a great first and last line which honestly I felt saved the story. There isn't really a story but rather conversation snippets. I feel this works better as a short one-pager comic (with each conversation a panel) than a story. If you want to go for the latter, at least describe scenes or things.

Dialogue sorta works. For experimental writing this is laudable. It doesn't mean it worked.


Understands my secret fetishes for Hammer Films movie monsters having copious amounts of sex with little subtlety. Push for win.

The Saddest Rhino fucked around with this message at 07:37 on Jan 15, 2014

Aug 2, 2002

curlingiron posted:


The Duty 100 words even.

The warrior priestess gazed stoically into the maw of the ancient demon. As the enormous creature brought her in close, preparing to devour her and her immortal soul both, she drew her sword and leapt; not away from the razor teeth and venom, but towards, inward, embracing her fate. There she plunged her blade deep into the back of the demon’s throat, and rode the wave of acid blood out of the creatures mouth, her armor preventing the bile from burning into her flesh as she rolled free. She gazed at her work before her.

Not bad, for a Tuesday.

It’s holding her and she jumps away? Into her fate to slay the beast? Sweet fate I guess. It doesn’t seem like it’s really hard to face your fate when it’s good. Why bother making acid blood if it doesn’t faze her?

Assoonasitits posted:


Bear Mountain (70 words)

The barbarian laughed as he stared down the bear that the world thought was a mountain. His luxurious hair flowed behind him in the wind and his muscles glistened with the effort of climbing to the bear’s head. The barbarian wound up and smashed the bear right in its jaw—a man literally punching a mountain. Its demonic eyes flashed and, as it fell, the beast’s death-roar shattered the world.

Because, legitimately, what is more manly than punching a bear that is also a mountain and breaking the world?

Where is the conflict in this? Nothing can stop the powerful man, so it’s not interesting. Was he saving something or just being a jerk? Your story ends with the whole world breaking, which I’m guessing means the end of the human race. Thanks a lot jerk.

Tyrannosaurus posted:

You Always Remember Your First
100 words

Jake’s brother was grinning like an idiot. A big, goofy, fifteen-year-old idiot. Which he was. Adam’s hands were shaking as he got into the truck.

“Have a good time on your little date?” Jake asked while cranking the engine.

Adam nodded. He was giddy and giggly and Jake looked at him expectantly but Adam didn’t say a word. He couldn’t say a word. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed.

“So, dude, what happened?” Jake asked.

“I touched her boobs!” Adam bellowed triumphantly, “Both of ‘em! Both hands! It was awesome!”

Jake pumped his fist. And the brothers hi-fived.

both hands on both boobs or one hand for each? details man. also, this is “internet epic” not “odyssey epic”

Entenzahn posted:

100 words

He was bathed in light. Stars shot through the orange sky, twinkling and giggling in the distance. An orchestra of trumpets filled the air, urging him to move on. Thick ground fog stirred with every step he took. The orchestra rose to a deafening crescendo until he found himself before a beautiful monstrosity of pure radiance. The sight filled his eyes with tears and the sound of trumpets ebbed.

A gentle voice whispered in his head: "It is time. You are at peace now."

"Not yet", replied the warrior and drew his sword as he lunged towards the heathen god.

first god killing story. where is the conflict in this? a man gets to heaven and tries to kill a god. what is stopping him? the whole story is describing how pretty a place it is. boring.

Black Griffon posted:

Dark Strings - 99

Eliath wrapped the bass strings around the demon's head and pulled. The claws of angels ripped into his sides, but pain was only distraction. With a soft pluck at the deepest tone, the demon convulsed, and with the force of a small-yield nuke, it exploded and threw Eliath towards the skies. Strings trailing, he tuned his bass back just in time to parry the attack of the angel hanging onto him, and roaring the skin of its bones, he slammed the bass guitar into its skull again and again until it caved in.

"Your turn", he said, looking upwards.

demons and angels aren’t the same thing, but you seem to use them interchangeably. Why can this guy withstand a nuke? why does a demon have so much potential energy? Why is he killing one with a guitar? why does it matter that it’s a bass guitar, is the guy super boring?

Mr_Wolf posted:

Depths - 100 words

“HOLD ON” the captain screams.

The ocean roars, blue and white fly into the sky. The ocean needs violence. The ship is held in the ocean's grip, waves billow towards the pitch black sky. With a cruel jolt the ship falls hundreds of feet back into the depths.

“Boys, this will be a fine death” freezing salt water shuts the Captain up, filling his belly - pushing the bravery deep down somewhere silent.

The ocean is tired and wants company, a wave folds the ship into its dark belly. Eighteen men, lost in the womb of the water.

oh cool, adjectives. there is a lot of talk of bellies in this one. it made me hungry. also i hate this.

QuoProQuid posted:

Heirs of Apollo - 88 words

Anticipation grows below as the capsule touches down on the Lunar surface, the fat complacent attitude of decades past forgotten. Even now, the people speak in hushed tones and giddy whispers. They know their life’s work is realized in this one moment and that millions have toiled to see today. No matter what happens next, the people will tell their children that, like the gods, they were masters of heaven. It is difficult to focus through the tears.

On television screens around the Earth, the pod door opens.

conflict: none. resolution: none. interest: none. this is really boring.

No Longer Flaky posted:

Life sucks -I don't know how many words.

Orbs propelled upwards by long striding muscle, slopes round and beautiful work against gravity held in place by taught ropes. Oscillating lenses follow movement, hydraulic shift. Cloth pulled tight against natures flow. Quickly the warm blooded balloon is hidden, shame and embarrassment follow. Warm liquid runs against gravity to sit under the crust like lava changing the color of the environment. A creature betrayed by desire.

Sorry for edit phone posted and forgot to bold title. I suck :(

66 words. holy poo poo your first sentence is overwrought bullshit. It does absolutely nothing for your story. STOP WRITING LIKE THIS. write a simple sentence. Is this basically: “somebody looks up. somebody watches something move. he gets a boner. he is embarrassed, and then he cums his pant. really? you thought that was a good idea because you made it vague and dressed it up in thesaurus words? imma get a newspaper and hit you on the nose

JamieTheD posted:

Here's a lil' story.

Heartseeker (100 words)

I saw him, once. His eyes flamed ice blue, and the cold seemed not to bother him, for all that his garments were a battered iron helm, a fur loincloth. None knew his name, but all knew his axe: Heartseeker. Runed and hoary with frost, it cleaved and cleaved.

I fought him, once. He was covered in blood, none his. All of it from my people. My iron thews strained, but he was my better, and he left me for dead in the snow.

The village burned. But I lived. And I shall kill him, for what he has done.

you spend your first half talking about some vague guy who kills a lot. the only thing your character does is try to fight him because…. revenge? duty? he’s stupid? I dunno. but he sucks and gets beat up. great story. :rolleyes:

Sitting Here posted:

(100 words)

The world-eater waits at the end of its great marble hall. My blessed claymore sings as I drag her tip on the ground.

The time has come.

The world-eater's maw requires no teeth to devour; I am pulled in as soon as I approach the gaping hole, sucked down into womb-like tightness and moisture, then launched out into the abyssal black of its stomach.

The arc of the claymore describes a silver crescent that resonates in the key of excision. I gut the beast from the inside, and spill back into the world among the fragments of my silenced sword.

the middle conflict doesn’t seem real or dangerous enough. never does she seem worried, so I never fear for her. was the world-eater really going to eat the world? why can’t it eat one girl? surely there are sharp things in the world. how big is this thing? why does it hate the world?

Kaishai posted:

(98 words)

He is the dark of night; she is the sun; the first light of dawn is a rent in him, torn by her sword. She ignites his feet with a touch, and the fickle stars flee. Yet he fights. He chokes her with cloudstuff: its tears slow her burning. He freezes her in winter: she struggles, chilled and wan. But in his age he dies to her youth, whether the end comes fast or slow, and she dances on his corpse in the break of day.

Come his hour of rebirth, all the weeping will be hers.

sweet. this is a good story.

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

gently caress you I can enter my own thing. 100 exactly.

The Summit

For six days, Kamir had climbed the cloven mountain to its lefthand peak. He stood now, with the desert sprawled below, searing red sand forever in all directions. A falcon circled, high above. Kamir cracked off a lazy salute with two fingers. The wind rose, bringing with it a dryness that hurt his tongue. The falcon screamed.

Years of preparation for this moment, to put his life in the hands of the gods. His doubts had long ago been scoured away by heat and dust, but faith's fire remained kindled, always.

Kamir spread his arms, leapt-

and flew.

no conflict in this one. a guy does what he sets out to do. you could at least have his feet slip or something.

systran posted:

Dance of Fairies - 100 Words

Älskade Älskling, most beloved of the fairies in Falkenberg's fjörds, mounted her Corgi, lance in hand. Across from her, and barely visible through the falling snow, sat Mörker Mörkensson atop his panting Pembroke. Älskade spurred her Cardigan steed forward, and it scurried headlong across the snow, ears back. She pointed the tip toward Mörkensson's plated chest. His lance as black as his name, Mörkensson's corgi too was cast with shadowy markings, though its white chest and paws blended into the snow-blinding sky.

They clashed, and the fairies danced under shards of spear.

again, no setback. everything just happens as it seems like it should.

Meinberg posted:


(88 words)

The star fell and shattered the sky and the earth and the sea.

The blade-of-stolen-starmetal pulses in her hands. The underbrush bursts outward the beast falls upon her. Her sword carves up through the beast’s torso and it twitches as its blood bursts out in a spray.

She limps back to the town-hidden-by-mountains, her home. Flames consume the buildings, and the scent of offal floods the air. An old man, eyeless and bloodcaked, reaches up towards her. “The star things are awake!” He says as he dies.

how are there people if the sky and earth broke? who are these people? who is the beast. this was called 100 word epic, not 100 word vagueries.

Jagermonster posted:

Hardyssey and Deepiad
98 words

Brianycus’s body burned with unquenchable rage. His horde coursed through the city drowning the defenders and peasants in a flood of steel. He and his men swept over the resistance, crashing towards the temple.

“Archer on the rooftop!”

“Chariot in the alleyway!”

Brianycus breathed in deep, he was almost overcome by the melody of screams and the aroma of flesh burning.

An enemy streaked by. Brianycus’s lance skewered him. “Is this all?! Pathetic!”

His hairs extended in all directions.

He looked up, but never saw the bolt thrown by Zeus Himself.

Dust danced in the wind, licking flickering flames.


thanks for the hard and deep fanfic. but where exactly is the conflict? a dude rides into town and is winning and then is killed by god. real epic. EPIC FAIL LOLALSDK;J

God Over Djinn posted:

itsy-bitsy epics!

Foundations (52 words)

"When I die," whispered the king, "thus shall my earthly works." He pressed the button with a palsied finger.

And monuments to old gods and new businessmen, bereft of their foundations, crumbled in torrents of rock.

Those of us who remain now scrabble in the ruins, lingering past a dreaming man's awakening.

Ok. a man did some stuff. so?

Echo Cian posted:

hi im posting this on a phone version of wordpad i count 100 words but it might be off kthnx


The parched earth beneath his feet spread to the horizon. He stood, barefoot, armed only with a lute against the flaming beast far above. He imagined its distant roar, and plucked a counterpoint. Sweat dripped from his face and he stepped back, and forward, a dance beneath its burning gaze that called on times long past.

The beast raged as its flames were swallowed. It roared, it seared, but the musician danced and played unbowed until at last its heat was shrouded. At the end, overcome, he collapsed.

Rain fell on the arid forest for the first time in centuries.

a man imagines a roar and plays some music and that makes it rain? was he ever in danger? it just seems like these two things are happening far away from each other and are only connected because you say they are.

God Over Djinn posted:

I'm entering twice because idgaf.

Foundations (62 words)

A perfect creation inevitably takes imperfect form in the mind of man. Thus the hundred thousandth slave was tossed from the marble structure to rot in the morass at its feet.

The architect forced the blade into his gut, runnels of blood painting the temple floor. Only the lizards heard his whimpers of ecstasy; only the scorpions saw his grimace of delight.

e: fffffffff drat you

why is it inevitable? and that makes them kill slaves? and then a guy commits suicide?and liked it? this is not epic, it’s just a series of stupid events.

petrol blue posted:

Crack the Sky - 99 words

Across the valley the priest's chanting echoed, supernaturally loud, drowning the wind's howl. He raised the ancient relic above his head as the incantation peaked.

The roc plummeted from the sky, striking the ziggurat hard enough to crack the stone. Neesha rolled free, adding the momentum to the speed of her tomahawk. Breath smashed from his chest, the elder staggered, dropping the painted skull to shatter on the blood-slicked stone.

Panting, she raised the gnarled staff the shamans had gifted her, spat at the dying man, and her single blow shattered the altar into dust.

"Your god is dead."

i’m not really sure why this char killed a god. gotta have motivation for your characters. also things happened how she wanted. no setback.

docbeard posted:

And now some more of that religious sci-fi that Muffin loves so much. (Sorry I couldn't work in any robot gods.)

Today Thou Shalt Be With Me... (99 words)

“MY NAME IS LEGION,” a thousand thousand voices cried. “FOR WE ARE-” Screams and flesh alike boiled away in a wash of laserlight. The strange gun felt warm in my hands.

“Keep firing!” I shouted to my squadmates, damned souls one and all, rising up at last against our demonic tormentors. “We’re close, we’re so close!”

“Paradise, huh?” I said to that strange, impossible man I’d met the day I died as we cut our way forward, me with my gun, he with a sword forged from a star.

He smiled a defiant, vicious smile. “Day’s not over yet.”

why are they fighting? i have no idea what’s going on. What are the stakes if they’re already dead? why does everybody hate god?

Baudolino posted:

Epic Promt. 100 words including title.


The thundering sound of axes battering shields deafens all. They face a forest of armored men, barely visible through the smoke of burning fields. On the fifth day of battle the smell of death and poo poo is overwhelming, nauseating. Blood covers every man, his own or the enemy’s. Five times he-Gondar has thrown himself towards his foes, five times he has broken their banners, and five times the enemy has driven them driven back. In their rear, their women prepare for defeat, knifes stand ready to cut the children`s throats.

Retreat is unthinkable.

Raising his axe he yells” ATTACK!”

why is this man so angry? what is he fighting for? where is the setback? it’s just mostly description of a REALLY TOUGH DUDE.

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:


Hrolf saw the enemy before they saw him. Ten thousand men in gleaming steel armour with shields locked together, marching across the plain to bring an end to him and his. Harald stood beside him, axe drawn.

“In Valhalla,” said Harald, “first round's on you.”

“Aye,” said Hrolf. “Let's die like warriors.”

He beat his sword against his shield once, twice. The red mist descended. He made a throaty cluck. His knuckles went white around his hilt. “Ock!” he screamed. “Ock ock ock!”

Harald did the same. They gave one last mighty Ock together, then charged.

BONER ATTACK. no setback though. they just set out to die and seems they will.

Sitting Here posted:

my irl epic
100 wrods

She raised her head from the pillow. The pile of laundry in the bathroom had become an edifice of laundry. She let her head fall back down.

Two hours later, it was eleven o'clock in the morning. She raised her head from the pillow again. The tower of laundry leaned dangerously to one side, as if it were a still photo of a toppling building.

Her phone buzzed. Life beckoned. She was out of clean underwear.

Slowly but with gathering speed, she pushed herself from the bed and began the long trek toward linoleum horizons; it was motherfucking laundry day.

oh hey. this has a setup, a conflict, a setback, and a resolution. good job.

docbeard posted:

48 Words


wtf they are all red wires


i’m cutting this one


or maybe that one


fine that one


that didn’t work


neither did that


are these wires hooked up to anything


oh poo poo

so i’m assuming he died? or did he realize he’d been pranked? you have a lot of setbacks here, i’m guessing that’s where everybody else’s went, right here. but you don’t have a good set up. where is this bomb and why does it matter? who is this guy and what is his motivation for defusing the bomb. he fails, now what?

Tyrannosaurus posted:

Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus, please. Help me, God, help me. Jesus.
71 words

He shouldn’t have eaten the second burrito. He knew that now. He knew that then, too, but the call of grilled steak, caramelized onions, pepperjack cheese, red hot jalapenos, and chipotle ranch was too great a siren’s song to resist. Now it was time to pay the piper and all he could do was grab his ankles and pray.

Because sometimes you take a poo poo and sometimes the poo poo takes you.

this isn’t even really a thing. it’s just a poop joke. that’s cool though.

FreudianSlippers posted:

Dawn of the Wolf Age
100 words

Brjánn was huddled by the campfire in total silence. Suddenly the silence was shattered by a unearthly howling. A streak of light illuminated the pitch black night. A horde of etheral horsemen rode screaming across the sky. Brjánn was not a learned man but he knew this was a omen of Ragnarök. Soon brothers would battle and split each others shields. A massive wolf would swallow the sun and plunge the world into a merciless winter. Death would soon come for everyone, both gods and men.
Shaking with terror Brjánn clutched his spear tightly, he would need it soon enough.

uh. some stuff happens. the main character strokes his spear. post your masturbatory allegories somewhere else.

tankadillo posted:

Doom of the Dinosaurs
98 words

“Should we help him?” said the triceratops.

“No,” said the parasaurolophus, “all we can do now is run.”

The tyrannosaurus was using all of the might in his tiny arms to push back meteor. It looked like the sun itself and the entire sky was crushing down on him. He quivered. His feet slipped an inch, then two inches, then a foot.

“Those fools will never escape,” said the tyrannosaurs. “Once this hits the ground, nowhere on Earth will be safe.”

The tyrannosaurs collapsed. His sacrifice delayed their fate, but did not avert it.

set up, conflict, set back, and resolution. the resolution sucked, but meh.

Mr_Wolf posted:

98 words

I look up to the sky and don't see God there. Just the smiling face of a Djin.

“A God without worship is just a lonely man” The Djin's face looms out from the purple sky, his eyes crackle with a thousand lightning bolts, he spits out fire that tears my flesh off the bone. I try to cry out in pain but the Djin won't allow it.

“I'm your God now boy. You will worship me with pain”

This can't be it. I stand up, charred chunks of smoking flesh fall to the ground.

“I worship nobody Djin”

no character motivations, no reason for this stuff to happen. don’t really care at the end.

Accretionist posted:

Interim Prompt
99/100 Words

Krolf stood tall afore his people, mightiest in the village, facing a massive bear gaunt from winter’s rest.

“Nanook, forgive me,” he muttered.

Krolf sighed as he drew his hunting knife. Stepping forward, arms raised, he bellowed a mighty call.

As it responded in kind, Krolf lunged for the eyes but was knocked down. The beast made for his throat but he rolled towards its gaping maw and rammed arm and blade down its neck, stabbing it in its dark heart.

Its jaws clamped shut, severing his arm, but he survived. Thus began the legend of Krolf the Barbarian.

setup, ….no motivation, why did he have to kill the bear? but you do have a setback and resolution, so kudos.

crabrock posted:

The Wolf-Rider-Sword Industrial Complex
100 words

Tiny creatures ran through open plains, pursued by bigger, uglier creatures. Some of the ugly creatures rode wolf-like animals, and some of the ugly creatures had swords. There was a marked overlap between the riders and sword-havers, so much that if one were to draw a Venn diagram it would mostly look like one circle. Which draws into question the very nature of the ugly creature’s society and classicism. Are there whole groups of people totally overlooked to ride wolf-like things because they weren’t born into a sword-wielding household? Oops, the small creatures have escaped across the river now. Welp.

this is the best one here. congrats. you can sleep with my wife.

Bad Seafood posted:

A bite-sized epic.

Flint and Fire (99 words)

Ur awoke from his slumber at the summit of the world, the whole of creation sprawled out before him. It was the song of the firebird that stirred him from his sleep, the beauty of the beast that had captured his heart. How many years had it been? How many lifetimes? He’d only been a boy when he’d first heard the tale. Once in a millennia…

Ur’s bones were old, but he knew his work. He notched his bow with an arrow and a prayer.

The firebird thundered and fell silent. Once again Ur was alone.

why does this guy gotta… kill something? I dunno. also, no setback. Ur mom.

Ihmemies posted:

The Mountain of Madness
(100 words of glory)

Air retreated in terror before the shape of the war hammer. The mountain had split the day before, driving the dwellers to edge of madness.

They had nowhere to go.

Red painted every surface. Streams of blood and sweat filled the reality.

We had nowhere to go.

Hunger slowed his muscles, while the harpies feasted on the trail of corpses left behind.

On this field no one wins.

Iron ravaged the bone time and time again. The frenzy of feathers gained ground till he took the final blow, leaving a crushed man as the parting gift.

Ash veiled the earth.

why do you switch from 3rd person to 1st person? there is no motivation here. there is just bad stuff happening to some people. boring.

WeLandedOnTheMoon! posted:

In digestion
(100 words)

Kodoko the Protector dragged Hardy to Tavurvur’s rim. The white skinned coward desecrated the island from the moment Tavurvur brought him to the Slate Shore.

The tribal drums signified Tavurvur’s awakening. When Kodoko found him fashioning a weapon from the driftwood, Kodoko pinned him to the earth with his spear. Still mounted on the spike, Kodoko caved his head against the shale.

Tavurvur’s breath caused Kodoko’s skin to blister. Kodoko flayed the ink from Hardy’s arm and kicked it aside, failing to notice the mark behind his ear. When Tavurvur ate, he vomited. Kodoko was consumed. The drums fell silent.

you provided some setup and motivation, but then just went off the rails. I don’t really understand what happened.

Amused Frog posted:

Dead Eye - 89 words

Years of searching led the crippled child here. In the saloon, he called out the man who shot his father.

The murderer spat back. "Left your daddy dead and your arm withered, boy. What chance you got now?"

They faced each other in the street, dripping sweat and scorched by the noon sun. Birds circled and doors slammed.

Two shots rang out. His father's killer fell to the dirt, a hole between his eyes. The crippled kid reached to his own throat and tried to hold in the blood.

motivation, set up, no real setback, lovely resolution. first half is good, second half sucks.

Amused Frog posted:

Gonna try to do some crits of the short stuff too because I want to make people feel bad.

lets be best friends.

Paladinus posted:

The Last Wish
(100 words epic)

‘And I’ll finally see the world in all its glory?’ a grey-haired man muttered almost crying.
‘You’ll see more than that,’ the doctor was visibly irritated although her voice didn’t betray any emotions, ‘you’ll see the planet dying, you’ll see the Sun burning red in its agony, you’ll see the end.’
In a minute the bandages were undone.
‘You hear that noise? Sounds like another bombing. What’s the hold-up? Open them up.’
‘I only wish the first thing I see wasn’t that morbid…’
‘Well, I wish I could see anything at all, Your Grace. Now get on with it already.’

motivation, set up, a set back… no real resolution. you’re 3/4ths there.

V for Vegas posted:

War 91.

His first war had been what? 3,000 years ago? In all that time, in all those battles, the blood, the screams, the terror, the euphoria had been the same. Didn't matter if he was killing with a sword, a chariot, a musket, a bayonet, a pistol, an AK.

But this. This was different. Watching a small screen as the white/green figures shifted around. Then a flash. And that small ancient thrill wriggled up his spine to lodge in the base of his skull. He smiled.

War, war never changes.

setup, motivation, i think you kind of have a setback? but not really. he likes to kill but then he’s a drone pilot or something? but he still likes it? I dunno man.

Anathema Device posted:

The Last
100 words

At the end he despairs.

He looks the dragon in the eye. He could step into that pupil sword and all, it's so large. Step into it like a doorway.

“Dragonslayer.” He feels the dragon's voice in the shaking rock. “I am the last. Will you end the age of dragons? Will you leave the forests to be cut, the fields to be tilled? What foe will be worthy of you, in this age of men?”

Behind the dragon, smoke still rises off the distant city. “None shall.”

At the end he despairs, but sword raised, he steps forward.

setup… no motivation, no setback, no resolution. this is basically just window dressing. it’s ok, but not 100 word epic

Martello posted:

Lion of Anathia

99 words

Androx Vanos waded through scarlet. His spatha, Death Herself, sliced armor and bone like straw.

The Horned King’s banner waved yonder. Androx rushed it, his last two Imperial Bodyguards running behind.

“Dromel!” The Imperator roared. “Come to me!”

The Horned King shoved aside one of his own men to see his enemy. His rams-horns dipped, as if in a bow. Dromel cut down an Anathian cataphract with a single blow of his greatsword.

A path was cleared.

Two unstoppable kings rushed together. Greatsword met spatha and rectangular shield. Thunder boomed. Blood sprayed. A kingdom fell, beneath a lion’s paws.

this is all just dry fantasy porn. no lube. no motivation or setbacks, just some dudes fighting. BORING.

Beast Pussy posted:

The Devil in the Details 100 words
It was cold at the crossroad, much colder than it had been all those years ago. As the time crawled steadily closer to midnight, Ernest recalled his last meeting with the devil.
"So you make me the smartest man alive, and in return I give you my soul?" Ernest asked.
"Yes," came the gravely voice of the figure in front of him.
"And there ain't no way I can get it back?"
The figure shook its head wordlessly.
With a handshake, Ernest was incredibly bright, but felt strangely hollow inside.
But now, wise enough to recognize his error, he'd come back to correct his double negative.

set up, motivation, not really a setback, just a realization, and then a resolution. it’s kinda funny, but you posted way too late.

My Winner: Kaishai. 2nd: Sitting Here.

Last place: everybody else

Dec 3, 2007

:siren: crabrock and SurreptitiousMuffin have violated the precepts, their wordcount drops to 500 :siren:

No Longer Flaky
Nov 16, 2013

by Lowtax

I have no idea what to make of this story, so I'm just going to insert my thoughts as I read it as a crit.

Mercedes posted:

To Beard or Not To Beard
475 Words

The giant beard, scuffled into a laboratory cluttered with all sorts of unused machinery and discarded beakers. The hairs on his body bristled everywhere as if he were victim of static electricity. The giant beard has hairs on it? The beard's hair has hair on it? What does the word "body" mean when you're talking about a beard? This is probably the biggest problem with this paragraph, that you assign a body to the beard thing and yet don't describe it. I assumed you were talking about a dude with a big beard until much later in the story. How dare they accuse him, the world’s greatest scientist of having no vision, no drive? How dare you subject me to this terrible sentence? I think you missed a "," after scientist. I hate this sentence because it sounds like something I would write, and you're better than that aren't you?

The beard froze and giant letters blazed out in front of him to spell out his name. Blazed out in front of him from where? And to where? and on what? Why did the words even spell out his name? For the audience? But why? Dr. Baron Springbottom. A beard named Springbottom? How funny! Not. The words flew away with a whoosh and Baron regained his speed.

He’d show those pompous fops a what for.

Another beard wearing a top hat and an absurdly large wing-shaped mustache shuffled in behind him. The phrasing of this sentence makes it seem like Baron is also wearing a top hat, the use of another here makes me think that. He got Baron’s attention with a quick rap on the table. Using his bountiful hair, he spelled out words for Baron to read.

“Yo, yo, they ain’t seem too impressed
even though you the best.
You discovered this portable
plant holder and it’s adorable!” What the gently caress is he talking about? A portable place holder? The gently caress is that?

The dapper rapper froze as large letters zipped in front of him, spelling his name: Dr. Seamus von Wingtips. Again, when the words flew away, time returned back to normal. A small human boot then spat out from beneath his thick hair and landed on the counter. So do humans exist in this world, or are they dead and beards just throw human boots on the counter?

"Seamus," he signed angrily. "We are going to cut me open and figure out what makes us tick.” How do you sign randomly? Are they using sign language?

"Are you mad?" Seamus signed incredulously. “This ain’t even rad.”

"For science, my good beard!" Baron laid down on a table and pointed at his associate. “Do it… for science.”

Seamus’ beard animated tears falling from where the eyes would be if they were a humanoid.So the beard has a beard? What? “For science!” That didn't take a lot of convincing, nor does it seem like there is any real reasoning behind the cutting Thousands of beard arms sprung out from Seamus, each holding a pair a scissors. His body glimmered in the florescent light of the laboratory, blinding Baron with his brilliance.All of a sudden it blinded him? Weren't they always in the laboratory anyways, why would he just then start shining? With a flurry of movement of a dervish he threw himself into his work. You realize dervishes spin around and around in circles right?

Clumps of beard flew willy-nilly as the expert beard-hands of Seamus culled away the hundreds of centuries of growth. Colonies of animals, all manner of machinery and even other beards fell away from the unrelenting snips of the world’s best barber.

The scene froze and among the floating mass of hair, words shot right in: Dr. Seamus von Wingtips, Master Barber and Beautician. The words slid out of view and Seamus continued with renewed vigor.

With the last vestiges of beard, Dr. Baron Springbottom signed, “SCIENCE!”

In the aftermath, Seamus cringed and held a mirror in his shaky grasp. In it, Baron saw himself for what he truly was.

Seamus shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a human woman!” he signed, too stupefied to create a fresh rhyme. His beard adapted the shape of eyebrows for the sake of raising them.

The words zoomed in again. Baron wasn’t a beard after all. What



That certainly is a collection of words.

Teriyaki Koinku
Nov 25, 2008

Peel posted:

THUNDERDOME WEEK LXXVI: The Mysteries of the Finite

Sup. You guys have 1000 words to tell me a mystery story with no science fiction or fantasy elements. Don't wimp out with some fragment poo poo either, I want both a presentation of the puzzle and its resolution between the start and end of your entry.

In to reclaim my honor.

I am no coward, mark my words! :colbert:

Aug 21, 2008


The numbers don't lie. 99.99% of every Diablo 3 player wants the game to be offline. This is a FACT.

OH SHIT IS THAT A WEBCAM? HOLY CRAP GET THAT AWAY FROM ME! (I am terrified of being spied on, because I am a very interesting person)

Crits are still on the way, just stupid busy with work and helping a friend move this week.

Uh oh did I just cut my word count if I decide to go in this week?

Oh no


...what have I done

May 31, 2011

Come at me baby bitch

I'm in.

As a comment, could we start to rein in the brawls? I'd like to see a variable, weekly cap on brawls that comes along with each new challenge. The amount of clutter is getting out of hand.

Oct 23, 2010

Legit Cyberpunk

Rules make for rules lawyers, but I agree. So no more brawls until the next judge comes in.

And don't challenge someone until you've at least got an honourable mention.

Music Theory
Aug 7, 2013

Avatar by Garden Walker

Alright, the worst that can happen is I get a cool new avatar, so I'm in.

Apr 29, 2012

by XyloJW

sebmojo posted:

Rules make for rules lawyers, but I agree. So no more brawls until the next judge comes in.

And don't challenge someone until you've at least got an honourable mention.

Brawls currently underway will continue, of course.

EchoCian and Sitting Here, that means you.

Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.

Author: WeLandedOnTheMoon!
Wordcount: 1281

The Lingering Wounds posted:

Weak opening line. Oooooh, there’s glass on the floor! So ominous. Gag. There was glass on the floor.

Marv didn’t expect to hear a crunch under his frayed boot when he walked through the door. Looking down, he noticed mars black paving stones pressed into the hardwood, the remnants of what appeared to be a knight, queen, and king from a glass chess set. Marv was always black, because that was the only way that his wife Charlie would play with him; he always won, except when he didn’t.

Charlie had been drinking. Stepping over a toppled floor lamp, Marv looked into the bathroom. There was vomit in the sink, and the water was running. Turning to the kitchen, Marv found Charlie leaning against the counter, her hand resting in a pool of Malbec as she picked through the remnants of a barren dishwasher.

“Don’t you think it’s irresponsible to get drunk around all this glass?” Marv asked. “You could cut yourself.” Why would he care? It won't actually hurt her.

Charlie looked up at Marv. “You threw my dog out of a loving window, so guess what? I don’t give a poo poo if you think I’m irresponsible, because I could have twenty drinks and I’d still make better decisions than you, rear end in a top hat” She pulled an old casserole dish from the rack and hurled it into the living room, nearly hitting him if he hadn’t dipped his shoulder. He winced as the dish exploded against the coffee table.

“Jesus, Charlie” Marv shouted, “give it a rest. That was almost two years ago. You know it was an accident, and I don’t feel like I need to explain myself to my pregnant wife when she is shitfaced. What is it, the third time this week? You need help.” This doesn’t sound like they’ve had this conversation for the third time this week. Also, his dialogue sounds stilted.

Charlie reached into the utensil separator, removing a serrated bread knife. As she stepped into the living room, Marv noticed how the redness in her face made the green in Charlie’s eyes particularly vivid. Her knuckles turned wan as she gripped the wooden handle with an intensity she only found at the bottom of a vodka bottle. “How the hell do you accidentally throw my dog out of the window, Marvin?” she asked while approaching him in the hallway.

Coincidentally How was this is a coincidence?, the last recorded birth and death occurred simultaneously on January 21st, 2015, at 7:51 pm in the West End Hospital of Kumasi, Ghana. The story has that the hospital was overcrowded that day, turning the hallways into makeshift care centers. It was there where, shoulder to shoulder, life and death met with synchronicity. This exposition came out of loving nowhere. I think you tacked this poo poo on to stay in line with the prompt.

Nobody could explain the events that followed, but it appeared as ifYou will explain what’s going on. humanity itself was put on pause. Human cells stopped their natural decay, and they recovered from any damage within seconds. Oddly enough, this was not the saving grace of every injured and sick person, no, quite the opposite actually. Although their bodies recovered from any new damage nearly instantaneously with only a short-lived pain, any ailment that they were suffering from when the immunity caused their body to reset became the new norm. One could put a bullet through the brain of a cancer patient and he would recover before his body hit the ground; however, try cutting out one of his tumors and it would grow back before the incision was sutured. So although death was put on hold, the pain and side effects of the lingering wounds that were afflicting the poor souls of immunity were as permanent as the eternal life we were cursed with.

After the immunity hit, humanity seemed to stagnated. It appeared as if people lost the capacity to learn new concepts and ideas.Using words such as ‘seemed’ and ‘appeared as if’ weakens your sentence. Most scientists gave up looking for a cure. Universities closed, while schools remained open as babysitters for the working population. Even learning small things, like names and addresses, became more difficult. Still, the world soldiered on through the brain stasis and the immunity; it had to.

And we’re back to the story proper. The exposition could have been handled better. Dropping hints through your characters actions instead of having this impenetrable wall of information.

Marv recoiled at his wife’s advance, slumping his wide shoulders and grimacing. He didn’t want to get stabbed today. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I didn’t know it would kill him. Todd had just thrown himself from the window and said that the fall into the alley was fun. He said I’d bounce off the pavement like a super ball. When I jumped off with Brutus, I didn’t know that I’d-” again, this doesn’t sound like a conversation that’s happened before. Marv stopped as he noticed Charlie raising her knife hand. She wiped the tears from her eyes. Marv stepped towards her, brushing a strand of rosewood hair from her face before holding her free hand in his.

“I can’t believe you” Charlie said with a sniffle.

Something about her tone of voice struck an indignant nerve with Marv. “You know, you’ve hurt me before too.” Marv barked with a lowered brow.


“You heard me. You hurt me all the time. You say the most hurtful things to me and don’t care. You call me immature, you call me retarded, you tell me that I’ve ruined your life. You hurt me and never even acknowledge it.” I think in the course of your story, the entire dialogue would have been passively made better if you didn’t have the qualifier that this poo poo has happened multiple times before.

“You want me to hurt you, Marvin?” Charlie asked. With that, two flashes of silver against his forest green shirt, a heavy gasp, and a holler. Marv collapsed, blood spurting from his chest with every shallow beat. Lying on his back, the blood shot higher as his heart beat harder, until the blood stopped completely sentence reads awkwardly. Cutting the shirt from his chest, Charlie watched his wounds clot, and moments later, heal. “I loved Brutus more than anything in this world.” She said as she cleaned Marv with the sections of his dry shirt.

“I know.” He said with a sputter. “I’m sorry.”

Charlie noticed the purpled bruise on Marv’s shoulder, as familiar to her as a birthmark. Charlie was at the basketball game when Marv took that hard fall. Her heart raced even thinking about him slamming into that hard wood with a thud.Why does this matter?“I know” she said.

Holding the crimson blade parallel against her distended stomach, Charlie was at her breaking point. “I’m sorry” she said, “I know you think this is the hormones talking, but I can’t handle it anymore. It’s been 30 months; the sickness, the moodiness, the alien inside me, it’s all too much. I can’t handle this pregnancy anymore.”

“What can we do?” Marv asked while sitting up, “Isn’t this just how things are now? The doctors said if we wait you might go into labor someday; they’re not sure.”

“Marv,” Charlie started, [“I just stabbed you in the chest, and you areyou’re sitting and speaking like you just woke up from a nap. What makes you think that my body will ever let me go into labor?”] It’s super important to speak your dialogues out loud to make sure they sound natural.

“What makes you think that you can do something about the baby?”

Charlie wiped the blade against her shirt. She rotated it, readjusting her grip in the process before wiping the other side. “I have to try.”

Marv looked into Charlie’s eyes and, for a moment, they were back at Flannery’s on Mission Street that first night when she beat him back and forth across the pool table. “I’ll play you as many times as you want tonight and I guarantee you won’t win a game.” She told him. Over and over he tried for what must have been three hours, buying her a drink for each game she took. At first he tried to win, but his resolve melted with each halfcocked smile that she’d flash, until he was just happy to be in that moment. I don’t see the point of this paragraph at all.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked.

She kissed him. I wish you would have alluded more to the idea that she planned on cutting the baby out of her stomach. Just asking to grab the towels leaves it pretty vague.

“Get the towels.” I won’t bullshit you. I’m not a fan of this. I feel you could have done a poo poo load better if you focused the story, cut out the useless exposition and have it come down to Charlie’s attempt to cut the baby out. There’s potential for sure. At least for your sake, you can attempt to edit this down; it can still work.

Author: Rainbow Unicorn
Wordcount: 1285

Man to Machine posted:

Charlie sat back on the bench, relishing the bitter taste of burnt tar on her tongue. She took another drag from her cigarette and eyed her new partner. A young one, newly inoculated. The opening isn’t terribly interesting, but at least you used it to paint a picture of your character, so it’s not totally wasted.

“You nervous?” she tried to say it lightly, teasing without shaming; she’d probably been fidgeting and darting glances out the windows that way on her first time up, too. For a moment she wondered if he’d heard her over the noise of the engine.

“Some,” he admitted. He licked his lips in a way that seemed like habit. Lucky for him chapped lips were a thing of the past.

Charlie blew out a long line of smoke. “You know who I am, huh?”

He blinked. As though the familiar mix of fear and worship in his gaze hadn’t been obvious from the start. His tongue flicked out over his lips, again. “Charlie Sanders,” he said. He left off the ‘professor.’ Good. “Name’s Mason.”

“Mason,” she acknowledged, holding out a hand in professional invitation. He took it and they shook once. He wore gloves. Charlie chuckled. His expression darkened, but she waved him off and shook her head, rubbing out the nub of her expired cigarette in a benchside ashtray that liked to spill its contents everywhere at the first sign of turbulence. “Not laughing at you,” she assured him, kicking at the ashes scattered by her feet. “How old are you, Mason?”

“Twenty-four,” he answered. The thought came intrusive and unwanted: one day people might say that, twenty-four, and while this young man meant it at face value, twenty-four, two-and-four, four and god damned twenty, day it might mean twenty-four hundred, twenty-four thousand, up and up until people forgot the concept of age and stopped asking the question entirely. Charlie lit up another cigarette.

“You’re not really cold, are you?” she pressed on, punctuating the question with a short puff, brows raised.

“No,” Mason admitted. “Not since…” a brief pause, then a shrug. “Not cold, not hot. I’m just sort of here, aren’t I?” His eyes locked onto hers and Charlie heard the unsaid accusation. And it’s all your faultChoose if you’re going to have internal monologues italicized or not, you can’t have both. It’s distracting. . Well, of course it was. It meant the synthetics were doing their job.

Immortality had been her gift to mankind. The price was one little shot and a couple weeks of puking your guts out, among other inconveniences. She’d warned them back then, her young, fresh-faced, genetically approved little specimens, you’ll wish you could die before it’s over. It had been a joke, then. A quick little clip delivered with a smirk that said but it’ll be worth it, and you know it.

A few more puffs, a long jet of exhaled smoke. She’d spent five years of her life quitting the drat things, back when years meant anything. “Did you know you’d find me here?”


But he said it too quickly. Charlie sighed. Word was getting out, and she was running out of new wastelands to explore. Around them, the plane stopped its climb and leveled out, coasting some thirty thousand feet above empty, flat fields. With luck they’d be full of artifacts, remnants of cultures long extinguished. Charlie liked to collect them. She liked to think someone would remember that once people had been different, varied, mortal.

“They made it an opt-in, you know,” Mason interrupted her thoughts.

“I heard that.”

After You’re over using the italics. most of the adult population had already been inoculated. The miracle synthetics. You couldn’t shoot kids up with the stuff, but right between twenty-three and twenty-eight, that was the sweet spot. Weeks of messy hell as the body shed all its meat-based circuitry, and then the young stayed young and the elderly aged backwards, and you thought your wife looked like her mother before!

Charlie hypothesized that that’s when the unease really began -- no one much liked finding out they were flirting with grandma. The atrocities that followed, the rationing and purging and world-conquering glory… that all came later because people flirted with their grandparents the world went to poo poo?, and there was a lot less complaining by then. Immortality hadn’t exactly done wonders for the collective moral conscience. She took another drag. Puff, blow, kick at the ashes on the ground. Someone else would clean it up later.

“I’m an opt-in,” he clarified, unnecessarily. “Most people still are. And I didn’t come here to meet you specifically.”

“An interest in cataloguing history, then?”

“Adventure,” he corrected her. “Who would have thought I’d actually meet the great Mother herself hiding all the way out here? Most people think you signed up to get shot off into space.”

Well, they had to put their criminals somewhere.

“I’ve thought about it.”

“Already? You’re only, what … a hundred and fifty? Sixty?”

“I’ve lost count.” That was a lie, but if age was soon to be irrelevant, why cling to it? “They give you all the warnings?”

“The whole long list,” he said. “On my way from man to machine, and all that. But who the hell wants to die just because they’re afraid of getting bored?” He shook his head. “Maybe one day I’ll head off into space, too -- just to see what I can find. You really want to die?”

“Not yet,” Charlie admitted, but the more accurate statement was not anymore. Eventually the synthetics had dulled the guilt, and now though she could understand that it was sad, what they had done, she felt only an academic sort of interest in the history and the persistent desire to light up a third cigarette. She wondered when the synthetics would take that from her, too. I’m almost done with your story and NOTHING HAS HAPPENED.

The overhead speaker crackled to life. “THIRTY THOUSAND, C,” the pilot informed them.

“Time to go,” Charlie announced. Mason was grinning. Opt-ins. Maybe they believed in the vision, the perfect utopia, a society of peaceful immortals prepared to spend eternity searching for new places to exist. Maybe that’s how they would eventually find their progress: no longer in generational handoffs, but in the exploration of new frontiers.

Or maybe they would just stagnate forever. Hope was for the young.

The speaker popped. “YOU GOING, OR WHAT?”

“Well, Mason,” Charlie stood -- crouched, really, in the tight cabin. “I think I might have misjudged you, this morning.” She worked the doors open with a grunt, and metal gave way to empty sky, with the white calm wasteland far below. Mason shuffled up behind her, zipping up a windbreaker he didn’t need.

“READY?” There’s no need for uppercase when two words later you tell us she shouted. The pilot over the intercom, I can see, but I avoid using uppercase let people know “this person is talking really really loud! she shouted, gripping the bar and bellowing over the wind. Her eyes watered. It must have been freezing, but she felt it only as a mild tingle, like tiny bubbles in a perfect bath. She loved the way her heart sped up as she stood there and stared down, adrenaline -- or something like it -- working even when there was nothing to fear. It felt so loving human.

He nodded and she flung herself into the open air. Mason leapt after her, tumbling in a clumsy tangle for a few breaths before righting himself in the updraft. They fell together, hair tangling, clothes flapping, limbs splayed out to catch the wind. He caught her hand and clutched it tight, and she knew he was delighting in this experience, in the knowledge that what he was doing was completely insane and consequence free. She heard his infectious whoop of exhilarated glee even over the roaring wind in her ears, and for just a blink, she forgot to feel old. Wait a second. This whole story was just a lead up to skydiving? A story without any conflict is loving boring. Your characterization of Charlie was fine, but you did nothing to convey a motivation that would engage the reader.

You have the chops, your prose is alright and your descriptions are good. But you really need to work on plot structure and character motivations. If I were to make a summary of your story, this would be it.

Charlie and Mason go skydiving.

That’s it. Why does she go skydiving? To feel human, I guess. What keeps her from going skydiving. Nothing. Does she succeed in going skydiving? Yes, with no obstacles in her path. Boring.

Oct 23, 2010

Legit Cyberpunk

If anyone wants a crit from me for their story from the last week's prompt, post a link to it in the next day or so (and no, it will not halve your word count).

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007




sebmojo posted:

If anyone wants a crit from me for their story from the last week's prompt, post a link to it in the next day or so (and no, it will not halve your word count).

I'm off my game, do ur werst

Jun 18, 2013

sebmojo posted:

If anyone wants a crit from me for their story from the last week's prompt, post a link to it in the next day or so (and no, it will not halve your word count).

Very much appreciated.

Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!

Me please!


Jan 12, 2012

Tr*ckin' and F*ckin' all the way to tha

sebmojo posted:

If anyone wants a crit from me for their story from the last week's prompt, post a link to it in the next day or so (and no, it will not halve your word count).

I would appreciate any feedback.

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