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Thunderdome will never again be this IN.
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Apr 29, 2014 14:07
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I'm in.
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Apr 29, 2014 14:11
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In for one last job.
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Apr 29, 2014 14:54
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Just when I thought I was out, they pull me right back in.
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Apr 29, 2014 15:16
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In.
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Apr 29, 2014 15:47
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I'm in, and off to learn about BST, which I assume is "british submarine time"
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Apr 29, 2014 15:47
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In Edit: But with this self-imposed restriction: I have to pick something mundane that I do today, and make that my MC's greatest moment/last hurrah. Drunk Nerds fucked around with this message at 16:12 on Apr 29, 2014 |
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Apr 29, 2014 15:55
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After a week off for not good reason, I am in.
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Apr 29, 2014 17:21
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Apr 29, 2014 17:56
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I'm in.
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Apr 29, 2014 18:09
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Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. (In)
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Apr 29, 2014 18:49
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Sitting Here posted:I'll just be over here waiting for that crit Jeza Crit for Sitting Here's Thunderbrawl entry: 
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Apr 29, 2014 18:57
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YOU JUST DIDN'T UNDERSTAND MY STORY JEZA
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Apr 29, 2014 19:06
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Crit for Thalams, "Only one Brother" Google Drive Link Let me know if that doesn't go right. Also, it just hit me that my first edit is erroneous. Please disregard the first comment.
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Apr 29, 2014 20:08
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In til the end.
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Apr 29, 2014 20:10
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theblunderbuss, I am quote:"But wait, Djeser, aren't judges often picked over on the Thunderdome IRC channel?" Why, in fact, the IRC channel is a great place to find Djeser fucked around with this message at 20:47 on Apr 29, 2014 |
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Apr 29, 2014 20:31
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As penance for submitting late, I'm offering three line-by-line crits to whomever asks first. If you want to crit my story in return, that would be cool too.
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Apr 29, 2014 21:38
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sebmojo posted:
All my weasels got hosed up brains. I gots lots of ‘em on account of they always havin' more babies. I keep thinkin' maybe one of the lil' ones will be not so hosed up and dumb, but they always is. But today's maybe the day my all my hopin' comes true. This new baby I got seems pretty smart, like he "weaseled" his way into my medicine cabinet and ate some of my late grandma's leftover pills. Haha, not so fast little guy. I don't think you be needing any "furosemide," you ain't no old lady. No, you gonna grow big and strong and smart on a diet of chocolate puddin': a weasle's favorite food. Nutritious too, cause the Cos' said so. I gonna call you Neel De'Weas Tysin after that TV scientist, because you're gonna be the Einsteen of weasels. There you go, eat up.
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Apr 29, 2014 21:41
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INTERPROMPT
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GlassLotus posted:Turtlicious asked me to post this for him as he has been probated or something or other until a later date and is unable to make posts. So this is his entry. He said he PM'd someone about this problem. I'm doing two crits for the contagion week. First come, first serve.
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Apr 29, 2014 22:10
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Must keep on going... Also, I'll take that crit leekster.
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Apr 29, 2014 22:19
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lambeth posted:As penance for submitting late, I'm offering three line-by-line crits to whomever asks first. If you want to crit my story in return, that would be cool too. I'll trade a crit with you, I'm not used to writing stories this short and I need to figure it out.
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Apr 29, 2014 22:38
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lambeth posted:As penance for submitting late, I'm offering three line-by-line crits to whomever asks first. If you want to crit my story in return, that would be cool too. I'll trade you a magic trick for a vase. (Or crit for crit whatever)
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Apr 29, 2014 23:19
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I've debased myself by missing submissions (but not twice in a row!) so I'm In To regain my honour, I'd like to request two flash rules to avenge the non-submissions. Hell, give me three if you want since I managed to write a story about a human sacrifice that was so mangled you couldn't even tell that it was happening, so that one probably needs avenging too. also  and stuff I guess.
PootieTang fucked around with this message at 00:10 on Apr 30, 2014 |
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Apr 29, 2014 23:29
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Griff Lee: I heard you like crits so I critted youGriff Lee posted:
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Apr 29, 2014 23:54
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the foreign officer swore loudly in what sounded like Czech. Czech is specific enough that your supa badass d00d shoudl either be certain about it or not care about it - 'in Czech' is fine, 'something Eastern European' woudl work too The other officer slowly backed towards the door, careful not to disturb anything but still reeling. this is a hilariously precise degree of mental disarrangment your badly described Czech is experiencing here Thomas did not flinch. ooh he makes me tingly I hope he goes back down those stairs
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leekster posted:I'm doing two crits for the contagion week. First come, first serve. I'll take one.
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Apr 30, 2014 00:38
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 I am Djeser. I am Djudge.I'm going to be reading a shitton for work this week. Do not make me read more than I have to. Use your words to say interesting things, as I will be merciless on your flabby, sagging fluff. Speaking of, my job is teaching reading. At the fourth grade level, I teach the elements of a story: protagonist, conflict and resolution. If you cannot grasp the elements of a story at a fourth grade level, I will crush you like the mewling baby you are. I'd tell you to go and make me proud, but I'm not an idiot. Go and try not to poo poo yourselves. Djeser fucked around with this message at 01:00 on Apr 30, 2014 |
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Apr 30, 2014 00:46
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Djeser is now officially my brother and/or sister for this upcoming round! Pay your respects.PootieTang posted:To regain my honour, I'd like to request two flash rules to avenge the non-submissions. Two? TWO? Do you really think that I would be so oh go on then. But let this not become a trend! Your protagonist must survive their great moment but wish they hadn't; in addition, they must be holding something and not let go of it at any point during the story.
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Apr 30, 2014 00:52
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WRAP THIS PARTY UP (yes it's still party week crits) Last 10 + 5 to grow on. ##### Kaishai - Backdraft Party: Celebration of a conquering. FWG: Cooking fire, cleaning water, lemongrass. The cook, Ronya, is dragged to the kitchen by a member of the army that has conquered her people. She is a good cook and so is ordered to cook the feast the conquerors will eat in the celebration of victory. As she cooks, her mind turns to her now-slain husband, and in her grief her emotions literally lace the food with her emotions; this causes the the soldiers to turn on their general because Magic. Once I figured out what had happened, I loved the story. There were a few things that tripped me up, such as the names of the people around her. Making most of the conquerors nameless helped me focus more on Ronya--the story was about her, so any of their names could have been skipped, with the exception of the general and the guy that held her. And saying "because Magic" isn't a down cut to you--sometimes, magic just should happen, and in fact explaining it many times is like explaining jokes. The detail about her seeing the preserves and being reminded of her lost husband was a good touch. High, but went with others for the HM. 8/10 ##### Kalyco - Domini Cannes – The Dogs of God Party: Funerals, and then it looks like one at the end. FWG: rain/tears, ????? Two priests sneak targeted people past SS guards and into Poland. This one took a long time to to get to where it was going. Less opening, more closing. Anytime someone says "my name is" in a story it jars me; there's other ways to spin names into the story. And I'm not sure if the party was the focus; there was a funeral at the start and a party of getting by at the end, but the middle was a lot of talking and travel that felt a little dragged on and tedious. Bouncing back and forth between "Fr." and "Father" was also an issue for my reading. One of the other. There's a lot of telling instead of or at the same time as showing, such as when Father John sees that Miriam is Romani, but then says so. 6/10 ##### leekster - Murky Waters Party: Wake FWG: lake, cremated bodies/ash, lawn Two people try to spread ashes of two dead men, instead the pilot smears them on himself, there’s some controversy, it blurs together. I can't tell your characters apart. There's a lot of names that don't distinguish who's who, and a lot of weird sentence structure. The few spatterings of dialogue don't tie anything together. At the end of the story I couldn't tell who was wearing whose ashes and who had jumped into the lake. If a reader can't tell characters apart or even what the ending is, then the story isn't good. Ther'es also a lot of "telling", such as this part: "Maria went off on a long tirade about how this family had always conspired against her; that her husband was guilty before he was even convicted in their eyes." Why didn't you show this? Everything is jumbled and nothing is clear. 4/10 ##### QuoProQuid - Hierophany Party: Resurrection/Easter Party FWG: Moses Parting seas, grass and dirt, Nun and Angel rush to the party to end all parties. This story isn't about the party; it's about a nun and an angel hijacking a car on Easter by his order, and driving around in it. Talking about the party isn't holding the party, and ending on the line that the party was "sweet" doesn't cover it. The ending is meek after all the HIGH OCTANE CAR DRIVING, which wasn't even that interesting. Lots of grammar and speech issues. Meh. 4/10 ##### Walamor - The Arboretum Party: For plant hijacking? FWG: flowers, trees and poo poo, fire exit, water dumping, It’s the future and people are running around and the girl is hot and In The Future We Will Not Have Plants? I’m not even sure what happened. The entire story was a jumble of futuretech and running around and Unique Names For Things to make them sound futuristic, like vibroknives and NeoCity and "sexy" women in body suits who smell like dirt and the worries of scrambling. You spend a lot of time jabbering on and on about things to make the reader go "OH MAN THE FUTURE" but there's no story in there. This feels like the opening of some Teen Dystopian style movie that doesn't go much of anywhere. Don't throw a bunch of crap at me about the future to make a story, I get enough of that reading teen lit. 4/10 ##### Jeep - A Cremation Party: wake/funeral FWG: plant that got peed in, things catching on fire, sea life/water Man dies. The mourners, by his request, have a wake for him before he’s cremated. He wanted a wild party, so this becomes orgies and drunkenness, and during the process they set the church on fire, cremating the body in the process. Interesting premise, but you didn't do much with it. So Sanders wanted to go out without visible mourning, and so everyone just fucks in public and drinks a lot. The parts with his daughter and wife interested me and the backstory of Saunder's life--which was like an infodump, sadly--but they got lost in the sea of drinking, pissing, and loving. There was so many places this story could have gone, but instead you went with the base factors of wild partying and people being awkward and drunk and ehhhh. She lost the crowd to drunken shenanigans and you lost me halfway through. 5/10 ##### Sir Azrael - The end of an Era DM Party: teens hanging out FWG: lawn, water in booze, “fire” up joints eff you Three girls with generic rear end names and two guys with generic rear end names hag out, one dumped her man, they’re going to summon demons, and you lost half the word count to make a throwaway joint line at the end of the story. Everything is in single lines and everyone says everything or asks or intones and I hate you. There were no characters--just a list of names doing and saying and intoning and showing up, and I don't care what anyone said or anything they did. Write less like a fifth grader who just discovered drugs. 2/10 ##### Grizzled Patriarch - The Siege Party: Feast in the middle of a siege FWG: firing of canons, ??? There's a seige going on outdoors and inside everyone is trying to have a feast, but it's just there. Nothing really happens in this story. There's a lot of descriptions of people and things, and I like this. But there's no action or intrigue. It feels like everything is going on outside the hall where the battles are happening. If you were trying to go for desperation or exhaustion among the rich during a siege, it didn't come through--it just felt tedious, like I was watching all this play out and waiting for it to end. If that's what Pavel was feeling, it more felt like he was just a fly on the wall watching everything, and the little he does just doesn't come across. I didn't feel for him, I just wanted there to be something happening other than him seeing everything go on. 4/10 ##### Hocus Pocus - A Man Alone With Himself DM Party: Political with old rulers FWG: ???? FANFIC ABOUT POLITICIANS IS STILL FAN FIC. Stories about sad painting presidents are still fanfic. If we'd replaced all the Name Dropping and taken out all the political references in this story, this would just be a story about a sad old man who paints and his pitiful friends being sad at a party, attempting to relive their glory days like ex-jocks and playing practical jokes out of nowhere. You made me read about Karl Rove's ham head, go to hell. You get nothing. 2/10. ##### Noah - New Beginnings Party: Birthday FWG: Grass, inner fire fury, water and gin Sister hates her birthday because poo poo has gone wrong the last two times. Her brother shoes up--he had wrecked one of the bad parties. She tells him to piss off but he stays and after some talking, she feels renewed. Interesting premise, but bad execution. Primarily, your formatting pissed me off. Stop barfing commas at me or I’ll drown you. A lot of words were wasted on backstory dumps that could have been shrunk down, repetitive text (you said "time for new beginnings" three times, sweet loving gods) or descriptions we didn't need. I still don't know why Margie made up with Ben, unless the magic of hugging did it. Tighten your mess up. 5/10 ##### Fumblemouse - A Policy Of Perfection Party: Retirement party FWG: In the floating orb things. Guy at his retirement party has major hallucinations before he dies. I didn't like this story much. The characterization feels nonexistent, smothered in a bunch of well-done descriptions of Arnold's wild last moment hallucinations that take over before he dies. He's irritated, and he tries to talk. Then he dies. That's the whole story. I did, however, like the opening with his irritation with the misspelled engraving. That made me snerk. But it just didn't go anywhere, and I didn't feel it. 5/10 ##### Djeser - I did a good thing today Party: Cabin party of DEATH. FWG: death by lake, death by tree/death on the lawn, death by fireplace. Doom omen tries to save teens from dying. Teens die anyways out of super panic at the omen's very presence. This was a really funny story. I could feel the omen's utter frustration of having had to deal with this poo poo before, very "god drat it, not again." The sentences felt way too choppy, though, probably because of the repetition of "the shadow beast." There was probably another way to refer to her. The deaths are funny, but they're also pretty rushed--they're supposed to be shotgun, but they feel not quite fast enough to be perfect or slow enough to savor. I think the last two paragraphs could have been swapped, for a lot more of an ending impact--having SB think that she saved Maria and then jump to "whoops, no, she dead." 7/10 ##### crabrock - The High Ground Party: teen party end of year FWG: grass skirt, wet kisses, smoke and ash ref and cigs. Girl plays spin the bottle, ends up getting Frenched by her frenemy, tries to blur that out with her brain. Good descriptions of stuff. Decent, funny dialogue. But the girl-on-girl kiss is weird because I can’t tell if No Name is in denial of being gay or so straight that being kissed squicked her out, both of which would have been valid with some clarification. Speaking of which, any reference to her having a name would have been a boon. I also feel like paragraphs were out of order in places. There's a lot of buildup to the kiss, but not enough words to have anything after it but a few lines about disgusted drinking. A little less on the actual game would have helped; that could have been done in more snippet form, maybe? 6/10 ##### Phobia - The Last Tea Party Party: tea party FWG: grass necklaces, water “tea”, setting things on fire. Girls try to have a tea party, but one is upset because mom make a cut and run, and then they make up cause friends. Pickyass first of all? They’re six graders, which makes them eleven minimally. Generally most girls in the US after the age of five don’t have tea parties with stuffies and talk with faux titles about Disney princesses, unless they’re socialy stunted, forcing it, or weird. If you wanted me to realize that they were forcing the party to ignore an issue, you should have made more mentions of the awkwardness of girls this age pulling through a tea party, and cleared up early on that they were this age. I got to the end and went "wait, they're preteens?" There's also a lot of mistakes that could have been cleaned up with some proofreading. The Everybody Laughs ending also feels out of nowhere. I feel like pacing and clarity was the death of this one; realizing they're preteens adds a layer that could have been so much more poignant if that had been explained or shown much earlier. 5/10 ##### Mercedes - Son of Man DQ - Late In jokes do not a story make. ##### I'll do two line-by lines if you want more of my bitching about your writing.
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Apr 30, 2014 00:57
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I have a question, does historical/alternate history fiction count as fanfiction? Like for instance if I had Julius Ceasar as a character, would that be too close to fanfic?
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Apr 30, 2014 00:59
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PootieTang posted:I have a question, does historical/alternate history fiction count as fanfiction? Historical figures are fair game.
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Apr 30, 2014 01:04
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Crit for lambeth.quote:Our Newest Display You've got an interesting idea here. You need to flesh out the protagonist a bit, let us get in their head and see their reactions, how they're feeling, especially since it's in first person. You could clean it up a bit by cutting unnecessary adverbs and reworking a few clunky sentences, but all in all it's a solid effort, even though I wrote comments all over the place.
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Apr 30, 2014 01:19
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Signing up.
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Apr 30, 2014 01:25
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I'm in.
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Apr 30, 2014 01:49
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Djeser posted:theblunderbuss, I am I think the more-qualified volunteers make a point of slinking into the shadows whenever they see us do that. Just a guess based on personal experience. Anyway, let's see 9AM British Monday is...5PM Korean Monday? Sweet, I have a crazy weekend but this is totally manageable. I'm in.
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Apr 30, 2014 02:08
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Doing two line-by-line crits. As usual, crit someone else's story and put CRIT ME SCHNEIDER somewhere in your post.
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Apr 30, 2014 02:54
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Crit for Grizzled Patriarch:Grizzled Patriarch posted:edit: poo poo, deadline got called while I was trying to format this drat thing. I fall to my knees in the blood-soaked sands of the Dome, crying out for mercy until my throat is raw. I expect none. I thought the story was ok, but a bit dull. I think it would be better if you cut out some of the exposition, like all the stuff Ben does like drive to the gas station and focused more on how the song affects people (the neighbor surrounding himself with appliances and trying to drown out the noise, for example). As it is, it just seems really unoriginal, and there's not much to Ben's personality beyond he doesn't like being woken up by loud music.
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Apr 30, 2014 03:07
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I'm in. Hopefully I decide to start writing more than two hours before the deadline this week. 
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Apr 30, 2014 03:14
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The American Game 1267 words (Gau brawl) “You like that, fag? You like some big man hands on you, huh? You like it? You listening, human being?” Bobby punctuated the last word with a final shove, pushing the smaller boy into the waiting gym locker wearing nothing but a towel. Daryl slammed the door shut while Stu and Bobby high-fived. “Yeah!” “Fuckin’ human being,” Bobby said. “Let’s go, dude,” Daryl replied. Hunter banged on olive painted sheet metal, trying to force his way out. Stu looked around the empty locker room. “Yeah, let’s get out of here before Mr. Miller gets back, Bobby.” He and Bobby grabbed their backpacks and headed for the exit. “They won’t touch me, especially not today.” And Daryl knew what Bobby said was true; he was the star quarterback, today was their shot at State, and he was the Sheriff’s son. He could do anything he wanted. The two of them strutted out into the hallway. Their letterman jackets each had the Rupert High Fighting Bantam on the sleeve in red and gold. Daryl hurried to catch up. At the double-doors, Daryl stopped. “Oh poo poo, I forgot my bag.” “You’re on your own, bro.” Bobby left, heading for his usual table where Cindy waited. She was already decked out in her cheerleader outfit like the rest of the squad. Stu looked back and forth, then shrugged. “Sorry Daryl. I don’t want to miss lunch before the big game.” He turned away. Daryl couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders as he walked away. Stu played offensive guard and spent a lot of time in the gym, hoping to score an athletic scholarship next year. As he walked back to the locker room, he thought on his own future as a wide receiver. He was tall, had fast hands, quick feet. Coach said if they could get him to commit on the field, he could be good. Maybe go pro someday. Daryl poked his head into the locker room. His bag sat on a bench in front of the locker where they had shut in Hunter. He could hear the other boy crying, the soft sounds carrying in the empty space. He grabbed his backpack and sat down on the bench. “I’m sorry.” Daryl reached out and lifted the metal tab. The door flew open and Hunter fell out, landing hard on his knees. “Are you okay?” He reached out his hand. “Of course I’m not okay!” The smaller boy smacked the hand away. He rewrapped the white towel around his waist and wiped his red-rimmed eyes. Daryl stood and looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “So what.” “But.” He paused. “Look, I don’t feel the same way they do about you, but you don’t get respect if you don’t act right.” Hunter looked him in the eyes and laughed, then stood up and went to his locker and got dressed. Daryl felt his face heat up as the towel dropped, and he left. There was just enough time to eat lunch before the bell. When Bobby and Stu asked if he ran into Mr. Miller, he said no. When the final bell rang, Daryl went out back because he knew Hunter wouldn’t be going to the game, and that he walked to school. He saw cornsilk hair blowing in the winter wind and jogged. “Hunter, wait up!” “Why, so you can beat me up? Wait, no, you’re going to shove snow down my coat so I have to walk home freezing.” “What? No! I just want to talk.” “So talk.” Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked on the side of the road together. Cars drove by and he could think of nothing to say. Hunter stopped and looked over at him. “You should come by the center some time.” “What center?” “The LGBT center.” They walked a little farther. “It’s for straights, too.” “Oh. Oh, poo poo, I have to go, I’m going to miss the bus for the game. Bye, Hunter!” He ran. They won the game. Daryl caught the winning pass and Coach said his picture might end up in the paper, which was even better. Bobby and Stu went out after the game in Bobby’s Camaro, but Daryl’s father took him home. “Can I talk to you about something, dad?” “Sure, son. You boys made me real proud out there today.” “I. I did something I’m not proud of. To Hunter. At school.” “That human being kid? What the Hell did you do-” “Bobby and Stu…” “You boys leave that kid alone. Judgment is for the Lord.” When his father was done, he sat gingerly on his bed and looked at his posters. He looked at Jerry Rice and Michael Crabtree. He remembered Grandpa Elijah, who had watched every 49ers game with him since he could remember. Grandpa Elijah, who had fought in the war, who was missing an arm, and who said that love was about who you fought for, not what you said, which was why football was the American game. That weekend, he was grounded. Every morning, he came down for breakfast. His father burned up eggs and toast for them, then sat down to read the paper, except on Sundays when they had pancakes and went to church. On Saturday, his father read to him that the LGBT center had burned down the night before. On Sunday, he read that the Sheriff’s investigation concluded the people inside had been drinking and there were two fatalities, with a third boy who had lived. Then, they went to church, where he learned the story of Lot. Hunter was not at school on Monday. People talked in quiet groups about the fire. Bobby and Stu had dark circles under their eyes and barely spoke. After school, Daryl walked along the side of the road to Hunter’s house and found him sitting on the stoop. “Uh, hi.” “What do you want?” “Are you okay? My dad read in the paper about what happened.” “How can you even ask that?” Hunter jumped to his feet and ran forward. “I’m sure your friends already told you all about what happened!” He shoved Daryl, knocking him into the hard, icy dirt. Daryl scooted back. “Wait, I don’t even know what happened. Is this about Bobby and Stu?” “Yes! They’re the ones who firebombed the center from their stupid car and now my friends are dead.” Hunter sank to his knees, covering his face. “Oh geez. Oh gently caress. Hunter, I don’t have anything to do with that. My dad took me home right after the game and whooped me good when I told him about the thing with the locker and I’ve been grounded all weekend. Look.” He turned and pulled up his shirt, showing a row of purplish switch marks that had just started to fade. “You can’t mean they set the fire.” “Well, they did. I saw their faces before they drove off. When I told the Sheriff, he told me that I’d better keep my mouth shut or he would pin the whole thing on my ‘human being rear end.’” Daryl stood and half-turned his body, getting ready to run away. Instead, he reached out a hand to the other boy. Hunter took it and got up, saying, “Thanks.” “I’ll fight for you,” Daryl said. “Yeah? What could you even do? “I’m friends with them. I’ll get them to talk and then we’ll go above the Sheriff. Call in the FBI or something.” Hunter hugged him, wrapping him up, and asked, “Why?” “Just something my Grandpa said. I think we could be friends.”
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Apr 30, 2014 03:53
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Crit for Phobia:Phobia posted:We Are All Diseased I feel like you captured a young person's first real exposure to death and a dead body fairly decently here. Main thing I'd say here is to consolidate your paragraphs so it looks more story-like and less blog entry-like. I feel like the ending could be a bit stronger though: it's a little cliche.
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Apr 30, 2014 03:54
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| # ? Oct 10, 2024 01:32 |
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In.
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Apr 30, 2014 04:03
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