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Is that a prompt, or does the story need to contain that line?
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Sep 2, 2012 23:32
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Sitting Here posted:Is that a prompt, or does the story need to contain that line? You tempt me... but no. The flash rule is just the word count reduction.
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Sep 2, 2012 23:45
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Fifty minutes to go. Final  Flash RuleStory must include the phrase 'last-minute'. Word count still at 950.
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Sep 3, 2012 00:11
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Ok, I had to pull a goatse to poo poo this poo poo of lovely proportions, but here it is, 950 words if you take out the hyphens. Focus Group The fetid smell is too much for the oxygen scrubbers. I've given up cleaning the entertainment module, never mind how long ago because the vacuum above doesn't change. The cold void is the nail I hang my hat on, the backbone of lunar life. I stare out (because there is no up) and see things happening on a scale of time that obliterates me from the picture the way that our macro scale obliterates atoms. I stand over them for hours each waking cycle, watch how they wither into sacks of atrophied muscle on bone. Even the PodCorp people plugged in eventually. Nearly forty adults plugged in for twenty-four hours a day, frolicking in visions of a perfect earth even as the planet and their bodies are both dying. I do not know why I am awake. One of the PodCorp shills died today. His enviropod red lined and hell, I'm no doctor. Looked to me like he just stopped breathing and didn't start again. His name was 'Steve.' I want to suit up and go out to the lip of the crater and whisper it into the perpetual night, but I just can't bring myself to do it because 'Steve' just doesn't cut it as a name you utter reverently into the blackness of space. I used up the last of the hygienic-grade water today (tonight?). In a few cycles, I'll be using disposal-grade. I had wiped steam off of the mirror, noticed the whorl of a fingerprint on the glass. This gives me an idea. Steve rides again. I'm holding his severed hand, trying to figure out which finger his computer access is imprinted to. There is a trick to it, a certain rolling motion across the scanner that is hard to do with the severed hand of a corpse. There's a chime when I finally get it (the ring finger of all things), and the interface springs to life with administrative options that I've never seen before. Protocols to alter the day/night cycle, life support, average water temperature and even our food's nutritional content, among other more opaque functions. There are unread communications from the earth office. Months of them, if you're going by earth standards. Has it been that long? I've been sitting in my chair contemplating my situation. The day/night settings, which are supposed to cycle over the duration of one earth day, seem to pass in moments. Dark. Light. Dark. Mining had been put "on hold," we were told. Problems with the extractors. Then it was delayed due to a territory dispute between lunar mining corps. Then the metal yields were lower than predicted. Excuses that sounded reasonable at the time had been spoonfed to the PodCorp staff and dispensed to us with no hesitation. There wasn't even a subfolder for mining yields. No readings on the moon dust. No topographical data. Take advantage of the down time, the techs had said. We had been encouraged to use the immersion units, the enviropods, to keep our minds off of things. Keep us from missing earth too much, turning into space cases. What pisses me off is that nothing seemed fishy. Not a thing. We exchanged high fives and plugged in with all the enthusiasm of little kids getting to play a new console before the release date. We were on the payroll either way, so what harm was there in passing the bleak lunar days inside a shared illusion? I had to hack off another hand, this time some communications techie. It took a cycle of rumination on the ethics of maiming a living dead man, but what I found using his clearance makes it a moot point. A while ago, months in earth time, communication with PodCorp headquarters stopped. It didn't make sense for PodCorp to cut their little focus group loose with all this experimental tech, but Steve's inbox didn't have any answers. I had to go deeper. The techie's login engendered a whole mess of controls, including the enviropods themselves and the communications satellite. Urgent communiqués overrode the display, desperate instructions from HQ to modify the satellite's orbit. The date stamp meant nothing to me, but verifying it against the enviropods' data, I found the messages had come some time after the Podcorp staff had plugged in with the rest of us. Decaying orbit, they said. Collision danger. Gravitational anomalies in surface composition. A grave likelihood, they said, that the crash landing would be close enough to disrupt the colony's structural integrity if the satellite's orbit wasn't stabilized. For the first time I wonder why they haven't come for us. I look out at earth, wonder if she is as dead and silent as she looks from luna. I notice the satellite now, and its spiral orbit reminds me of a wolf circling in on prey. I watch the emaciated colonists in their delusional slumber and wonder if their visions of old earth are all that remain of life on the blue green dot. Too late for the last-minute reprieve. The least I can do is go out on my terms. I take a deep breath, open the airlock, step out into nothing and scream silence.
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Sep 3, 2012 00:40
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If the extra spaces aren't intentional, you're free to fix them.
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Sep 3, 2012 00:43
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Yeah it looks better in the original document. I am gonna try to edit it to look a little better, so if you see any changes it's just that, I promise.
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Sep 3, 2012 00:46
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Leave in fear "Grimy." "And the other one?" "Clean." "Switch out both of them Thea, we can't afford to leave anything half-assed." Of course we can't. Of all the things which can go wrong, bad screws on the water fountain will make the whole place collapse. "This thing will probably last longer than both of us." "Just do it. Do as I say." So I do as Trey says, because I have nothing better to do. He looks at me like I'm an idiot. Of course I'm supposed to switch out the screws on the water fountain. Duh. "I'm heading out," he says, "Take care of the kitchen while I check the rover." The airlock fogs up after the door closes. I check the kitchen, find a dozen grimy screws and ignore them. He won't check. After a few minutes I can see sparks in a porthole, almost floating in low gravity. I head to the communications module, certain he won't return for at least an hour. Everything in here is spotless, every screw perfect. I sit down and log on. "Attached here are the full specifications of Moonbase-AF59. You'll know exactly when to strike." My fingers leave the keyboard for a moment, and I sit and stare at the words, not sure of myself. "Jonathan, the plans for the base are attached. You'll know exactly when to strike." I attach the plans, half a gigabyte plain text; it's going to be a long letter. "I've only got about five hundred words, just for you. It's all I can afford. I would have written you a shorter letter, but I did not have time. This is a last-minute thing. I could also have avoided typing the previous sentences and filled the page with sweet words, but you know that's not me. I can't give you anything now. The plans are for the cause, and that's it, they are not for just you. The only thing I can give you is me, through this letter, and this is me, rambling on. I could have a hundred million words, and I'd never be able to say how much I love you. I’d need you right beside me for that, but that’s not going to happen. I won't tell you what to do either, no plans for the rest of your life, or instructions on how to take care of Alita. No advice or orders. I trust you. Just let her know who I am, who I was. Every word here is who I am, and who I want to be remembered as. I fought, I cared, I loved. I hope Alita will have a better universe when she's my age. If I have one single instruction, it is this: Show this letter to her when she's old enough. Maybe she'll understand who I was. Back in Arizona, when me and dad made the trip out to the desert, to hunt, I remember one thing clearer than anything else. He'd explain to me how to clean my rifle, in that low deep voice as the sun rose behind him. I remember he'd have his eyes on the rifle, but I felt like he was always watching me, watching over me. You remind me of him when you look at Alita. I don't know what they'll say about me in the news. It won't be pretty; traitor, suicide. As long as I know that you know the truth, I don't care. So close to the end, I realize it's hard to care about the cause. It's you I care about; it's your memory of me that's important. You'll know how I died, and you can tell the others. I guess you ought to tell the troops something, something directly from the boss. Tell them this: When AF59 falls, the floodgates will open. In their arrogance, the System failed to see their weakest link, and that will be their end. This is the door to heaven, ride in and tear down the saints. Brothers and sisters, we are Godkillers, and nothing can stand in our way. Yeah I know, its poo poo. It'll rile people up good enough though. Don't let them forget me, not anyone. I'll see you at the end of the universe." I encrypt and send, and at the moment the progress bar hits home, I wipe the entire system. I should expect Trey back at any moment. I wonder if I should kill him, but I realize if the panicked calls about compromised security and traitors get out on the web, it will be excellent for morale. No, I'll leave him alone as the whole place falls apart around him. I hope he'll live. Even though he won't see them from the moon, I imagine him standing there, watching desperately as ship after ship passes above him. I've got a few minutes left, I can allow myself to hate. I laugh as I realize he missed one screw. Grimy. I remove it, and insert a clean one in place. I smile and shake my head. The airlock hiss makes the knot in my stomach painful, complete torture, and I grip the pistol far too hard. I'm a little girl again, looking at a dead cougar moments after it fell. It's not the footsteps which get me; it's the pause as he sees the entire communications array is dead. "Thea, what-" I want to enjoy the fear in his face as I say "Godkillers," but I can't. Everything hurts, there's no feeling of victory or joy at all. I just wish I could be back on Earth, holding Alita as we watch the sunrise. I pull the trigger, leaving the universe in fear.
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Sep 3, 2012 00:47
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And that is it. Thunderdome IV is over. BirdofPlay did not submit, and has failed. Everyone else may well have failed too. The judges will now convene and cast our jaundiced cybernetic eyes over the effluvia and detritus you have presented to us. May God have mercy on your souls.
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Sep 3, 2012 01:07
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Steroid-infused 'dome chat aside, everyone who submitted hit all the prompts, which is fine work. Taste that air - is it not sweet? Victor/loser announced in the next day or so, with individual judge story reviews to follow.
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Sep 3, 2012 02:23
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It normally takes me weeks to write anything, so this was a pretty great workout, no matter the outcome.
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Sep 3, 2012 03:37
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TANE (tane)
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Sep 3, 2012 03:58
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Pompt hint for next week itt.
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Sep 3, 2012 04:03
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Whoever thought that hell would be so cold? I did well for an old tin-can sailor, but she wanted the bell in my soul. I've spoken to God on the mountain, and I swam in the Irish sea. I ate fire and drank from the Ganges, and I'll beg there for mercy for me.
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Sep 3, 2012 04:06
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Erik Shawn-Bohner posted:Whoever thought that hell would be so cold? I did well for an old tin-can sailor, but she wanted the bell in my soul. I've spoken to God on the mountain, and I swam in the Irish sea. I ate fire and drank from the Ganges, and I'll beg there for mercy for me. Holy hell there's some writin' in that song.
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Sep 3, 2012 05:58
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sebmojo posted:Holy hell there's some writin' in that song. I'da asked you bitches to write this, but you just ain't on the level. Watch this an learn a thing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C49H3aWdiK8
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Sep 3, 2012 06:57
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If next week is Tom Waits week I Will Lose. So hard. Edit: No one will win. No loving way.
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Sep 3, 2012 16:19
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Black Griffon posted:If next week is Tom Waits week I Will Lose. So hard. Best not to read too much into our banter. Kind of like looking into the face of Cthulhu.
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Sep 3, 2012 16:39
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Says you. I'm part way to cracking The Thunderdome Code and basically have predicated a quadruple armageddon plus space dragons with helicopters for faces, and I'm only halfway through the week 1 banter.
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Sep 3, 2012 19:00
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The delay is my fault, folks. I decided to do a concrete taste-test during a motorcycle ride. We'll have something for you when we drat well feel like it. There's big things coming next week though, so stay tuned.
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Sep 4, 2012 05:43
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Erik Shawn-Bohner posted:The delay is my fault, folks. I decided to do a concrete taste-test during a motorcycle ride. We'll have something for you when we drat well feel like it. There's big things coming next week though, so stay tuned. THUNDERDOME JUDGES loving METAL
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Sep 4, 2012 11:56
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sebmojo posted:THUNDERDOME JUDGES Oh, so it's that kind of motorcycle "ride". i hope you're okay Erik Shawn-Bohner
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Sep 4, 2012 12:14
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toanoradian posted:i hope you're okay Erik Shawn-Bohner He'll never be okay.
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Sep 4, 2012 14:39
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A winner has been decided. And the losers.
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Sep 4, 2012 23:18
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If I already have a loser's avatar, how am I supposed to know if I lost?
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Sep 4, 2012 23:22
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Radioactive Bears posted:If I already have a loser's avatar, how am I supposed to know if I lost? 
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Sep 4, 2012 23:26
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Radioactive Bears posted:If I already have a loser's avatar, how am I supposed to know if I lost? In your heart. Carve a big '2' into the scar tissue.
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Sep 4, 2012 23:26
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This week's winner is Toanoradian who, without commas, created an eerie interesting character who was going through a personal crisis that I found both compelling and almost poetic at times. GOOD JOB. This week's losers are: Zack_Gochuck and WrageofWrapper Zack_Gochuck  Pretty much wraps up what I think of your story. Also you should have done your research, there's no way you'd find a Katana on the moon. WrageofWrapper Clones, incest, and you couldn't take five minutes to spell check your work, or look up how to properly punctuate. You join Zack_Gochuck this week. I'll dole out individual comments on everyone a bit later on.
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Sep 4, 2012 23:31
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You guys took forever. You're loving lucky you posted just before I got home from work, because otherwise  As it is I may have to transition my rage to the Week V contestants. Toanaradian, PM me immediately with rule ideas for Week V.
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Sep 4, 2012 23:45
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A great and terrible weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
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Sep 5, 2012 00:27
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Peel posted:A great and terrible weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I'm glad my carefully crafted, home made bread brought you some peace. Namaste.
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Sep 5, 2012 01:03
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I considered marking in moods, shades of green or Olympic events, but decided it wouldn’t properly express my bile. So, out of 10. Scores are low because I’m applying a -10 point penalty to everyone who didn’t do a story in the style of Italo Calvino or Stanislaw Lem. Which is loving everyone, jesus people Areyoucontagious: Perfidy There’s an awesome story to be written about jealousy driven murder in the airless expanse of space, but this isn’t it. Not enough juice, not enough precision. But it could be worse. And some points for being quick. -6/10 Wrageowrapper: Master Bataar Okay what the Christ. This is muddled stupid goony shitwriting of the highest order and that is why it wins the fail rally. 1 point for… actually no. No points for anything. -10/10 Zack_Gochuck: Moonotopia There’s a few good creepy guy observationals in this pile of kack. But it needs a good kicking and a reshuffle before it can live up to its slim promise. Or maybe to be burnt to the ground and the ashes salted. Yes, let’s go for that. -9/10 Kangaroojunk: Suicide for Josephine Decent hard-science fiction weirdness, smothered in a smoosh of terrible purple prose. -6/10 areyoucontagious: Perfidy: epilogue The part of this that cracked me up is actually the grade school physics lesson in the fourth paragraph. That poo poo’s gold. -4/10 Seldom Posts: New World This has some potential, but needs a hacking to stop the softly singing and the words falling quietly. It feels like your character doesn’t really care so why should we? But space commies is a great trope and this gets a lot of things right. -5/10 Radioactive Bears: Minenow I liked this. As much for how little background it gives to the horror as any of the images. Plus, you stepped up to a total oval office of a prompt when no one else would, so respect for that. -4/10 Bad Seafood: Last One Out, Hit the Lights There’s a lot of writing here, but not much story. It’s nice writing to be sure, but you’re jumpin’ around in time and space and speculatin’ and emotifyin’ and it’s not really convincing me. Well done fitting in the second most fucky prompt of the round though. -5/10 As Nero Danced: Tourists Good crazy energy and I like the detail you put into your mentalist janitor. But the hard left turn into wacky alien space fantasy doesn’t fit the story or the main prompt so points must get deducted. They must. It’s their thing, you understand. -6/10 Chairchucker: Moonmen This one suffers from not having a protagonist. Always have a protagonist, unless you’re awesome. Are you awesome? No, you’re decent. -6/10 Jonked: Mad Dog on the Moon You really got into telling us about these dudes talking to each other. And you have lots of words to do it. So many that it’s real hard to tell what the story’s about (ecology, I think?). But good detailing of the effects of 1/6 gravity on improvised boozeware. And bonus point for Jesus Jones reference in second line (no actual bonus points awarded) -5/10 Capntastic: Eventual Eden You stepped right the gently caress up with this one. It has gritty precision. And that’s the kind of thing that gets you points all over the place in this man’s judging. It falls down by not having a clear point and lacking on the passion prompt. Still. -4/10 is nothing to be shamed over. Will Styles: Mighty Seraphim I don’t know what the poo poo’s going on in this one but I don’t like it! I’m going to guess at 40k fanfiction and award it a generous -8/10 Toanoradian: Funeral for the Rest of the Europan Humankind I kind of skated over this one first time round. But dammit, it works. And HiddenGecko’s beautiful bastard of a prompt is what did it. Hats off to him, maybe someone take ESB’s hat off because of his arms are in traction. I have to take one point off for a bunch of spelling errors and crap because Thunderdome, but this squirted a little WD40 into the rusted dishwasher motor I use for a heart. -1/10 Peel: The Europa Sea This hits my old-school buttons, and reads excellently like something in one of those crappy little 50’s sci-fi magazines for 991 words. But it falls on the last stretch and the other stories point at it and laugh. That last line – a cheese slice too far. And why do you need two moons? That’s just greedy. -4/10 Noah: Moon Beez The first one was better. -6/10 Sitting Here: Focus Group On first reading I loved the poo poo out of this, the environmental details, the severed-limb humour, the final yell into the void. Trouble is it hooks the fish but doesn’t land it. The satellite crashing flimflam just doesn’t work as a balance for the weight you’ve set up in the rest of the story. Still, a contender for victor and a mark that is so close to a positive integer it can taste it. -2/10 Black Griffon: Leave in fear See, this right here’s some balls. I was going a little crazy with judge power towards the end, throwing out the flash rules. Black Griffon just sitting there like it ain’t no thing. Hits all the prompts, even the ones he doesn’t need to, kicks out his story. Thirteen minutes to go, heh. Pours a whiskey, lights a stogie and starts cleaning his nails with the cutter. But like with the previous one, it doesn’t quite bring it home. Too many abstract concepts jumbling around in the back end when you should have kept it to the grimy screws and the desert memories. You can’t argue with numbers, though. They’ll just stare at you. They’re loving numbers. -2/10
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Sep 5, 2012 02:09
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May I get some feedback on the first one, at least?
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Sep 5, 2012 02:25
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Noah posted:May I get some feedback on the first one, at least? Beg...  ... "Bitch"
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Sep 5, 2012 02:32
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sebmojo posted:Black Griffon: Leave in fear I certainly won't argue with -2/10. It's great to hear that I have something in me. And drat, you gave me an excuse for a tumbler of Arran 12. Good on you.
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Sep 5, 2012 02:53
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Thunderdome Week V This week, the judges are myself, Stuporstar, areyoucontagious, and toanoradian. Both temps are lucky I wasn't on the triumvirate for Week IV, as I would have DQ'd them for not using initial capitals or spaces (in areyoucontagious' case) in their handles. Remember, this is Thunderdome. Fucksticks, this week the prompt is to write a not-awful loving story that involves Gary Numan's goddamn life, motherfucking lifestyle, the themes and structure of his cuntlicking music, or based on one of his cocksucking songs specifically. Except the loving song "Cars." You can't write about that one, at all, because all of you filthy cunts have heard it so it makes it too loving easy. IN ADDITION to but not DIRECTLY RELATED to Gary Numan, you must also write the lovely loving story about being trapped, somewhere. It doesn't have to be a specific physical place, but it can be. It could be a space station, a 50-gallon drum being slowly filled with gasoline, the protagonist's head, another character's head, or whatever stupid bullshit thing you want the character to be trapped in. Have fun writing the goddamn story, you miserable loving bloodrags. Word count is ~1000. Don't push it. Deadline for entry is Thursday, 6 2100 EST SEP 2012. Deadline for submissions is Saturday, 8 2100 EST SEP 2012. I have spoken. Time counts and keeps countin', and we knows now finding the trick of what's been and lost ain't no easy ride. But that's our trek, we gotta' travel it. And there ain't nobody knows where it's gonna' lead. Contestants: sebmojo - "Halo" SurreptitiousMuffin - "The Dream Police" Black Griffon - "Complex" budgieinspector - "Are 'Friends' Electric?" Wrageowrapper - "We Are Glass" Jonked - "Music for Chameleons" Sitting Here - "I die: you die" Dr. Kloctopussy - "My Shadow in Vain" Chairchucker - "Sister Surprise" Capntastic - "We Have a Technical" Baudolino - "Bombers" Seldom Posts - Summat about Gary Numan having secks with Margaret Thacher or whatever and also  HiddenGecko - "Berserker" TequilaJesus - "Down in the Park" swaziloo - "Replicas" kangaroojunk - "You Are My Vision" Nyarai  - "The Fall"Fanky Malloons - "Metal"  Benegain - "Stormtroopers in Drag"
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Sep 5, 2012 02:57
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Erik Shawn-Bohner posted:Beg... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tv3jANutfPo&t=315s I didn't ask you, bitch! BOOYAH.
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Sep 5, 2012 03:00
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The judges are fair and wise. I agree with the flim flam assessment, I just wanted to show that I'd read a wikipedia article about physics on the moon 
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Sep 5, 2012 03:02
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Noah posted:May I get some feedback on the first one, at least? It had a nice  feel to it and some good observations, but lacked punch. First question - why should I give a poo poo? That's also the last question btw, just copy/paste it to save time.quote:Prompt is Gary Numan except "Cars," and trapped somewhere. I'm in. God preserve me, I'm loving in.
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Sep 5, 2012 03:04
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Just to clarify, you don't have to write about Gary Numan being trapped somewhere. Goddamnit, Martello, learn how to construct a damned sentence. We want you to use a Gary Numan song as inspiration, taking a single lyric as a prompt, using the rhythm in one of his songs for your prose, or whatever. Whatever you do, the influence has to show. However, don't just copy a whole song's lyrics, because I'm pretty sure that's plagiarism. Using "Cars" is an automatic DQ. In fact, I'd rather you used an album before the The Pleasure Principle. Anything he did with Tubeway Army is acceptable. You don't know his stuff, look him up on YouTube. You don't like his stuff, tough. Let the Gary Numan Challenge begin.
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Sep 5, 2012 03:05
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Stuporstar posted:Just to clarify, you don't have to write about Gary Numan being trapped somewhere. Goddamnit, Martello, learn how to construct a damned sentence. I didn't realize I had to break things down to kindergarten level just so the contestants can wrap their tiny shriveled brains around a simple concept. I'll try again. Fucksticks, this week the prompt is to write a not-awful loving story that involves Gary Numan's goddamn life, motherfucking lifestyle, the themes and structure of his cuntlicking music, or based on one of his cocksucking songs specifically. Except the loving song "Cars." You can't write about that one, at all, because all of you filthy cunts have heard it so it makes it too loving easy. IN ADDITION to but not DIRECTLY RELATED to Gary Numan, you must also write the lovely loving story about being trapped, somewhere. It doesn't have to be a specific physical place, but it can be. It could be a space station, a 50-gallon drum being slowly filled with gasoline, the protagonist's head, another character's head, or whatever stupid bullshit thing you want the character to be trapped in. Have fun writing the goddamn story, you miserable loving bloodrags. Is that loving clear enough now?
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Sep 5, 2012 03:14
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