Oh, right. Thunderdome. I was going to write a story but instead I played Planescape: Torment all weekend, which was time well spent.
Nonetheless, here is a story I made up just then which kind of semi addresses some of the prompts and is only most of a whole day late. Woo. I think I exhausted my knowledge of museums writing this.
Museum of Chairs
‘Empty Chair’ were the words on the display sign. The chair in question was a large, straight backed wooden number that was stood on top of an ornate rug. Plush cushions were on both seat and back, with tassels on all four corners of each. In it slumped a gentleman of perhaps seventy years, eyes closed.
“The irony’s brilliant, isn’t it?” said Kate. “It’s clearly a statement on society’s attitude towards and rejection of the elderly. ‘Look’, it seems to say, ‘here is what you’re calling nothing.’”
“Well there’s that, of course,” said Alan. “But I think it also speaks to society’s increasingly sedentary lifestyle.”
“Yes, of course, I see that now! This performer is one of the better ones I’ve seen, I can’t believe I’ve not seen him in anything before.”
Kate felt a tug on her sleeve, and turned to look into the face of a small girl. “Excuse me miss,” said the child, “but do you know where the dinosaur skeletons are?”
“No,” said Kate, “this isn’t that kind of museum.”
“Oh.” The little girl stood and pondered this for a moment. “Then can you tell me where the woolly mammoths are?”
“Hmmm?” Kate glanced down at her again. “No, look, kid…”
“Gracie,” said the girl.
“Look Gracie, this isn’t a natural history museum. It’s an avant-garde art museum.”
“Oh. Why can’t dinosaurs be Avon Guard?”
“Well I suppose they could be,” said Alan, “in fact that could be a very interesting piece. You’d have to do something different with it, though.”
“Being a dinosaur isn’t enough?”
“Well, everyone’s seen dinosaurs before,” said Kate. “You’d have to show them in a different light. Show a different angle.”
“I haven’t seen dinosaurs,” said Gracie. “We’ve been to three different museums today, and none of them had dinosaurs.”
A short, bald man walked up from behind them. “I see you’re all admiring my latest work,” he said. “I’m Fritz, I made this piece. Except for that old guy, but I liked how he changed my work.”
“That’s my grandpa,” said the girl.
“Well,” said Fritz, “It might be best if you wake him up before we view the interactive part of this exhibit.” He gestured towards a small button mounted on the display sign.
“Wake up, grandpa!” said Gracie into his ear.
Gracie dragged him off of the chair and back behind the line of the rug. “Now?” she asked. Fritz nodded. Gracie pushed the button.
Nothing happened, and Gracie moved towards the button again. “Patience,” said Fritz. “Good things come to those who wait, mmm?”
There was a metallic creak. The chair rose up, slightly, then tilted away from them, and then straightened up and kept rising. The whole rug seemed to be rising.
While the first couple of movements had been laboured and slow, the next were very sudden. So violent was the movement that the chair was flung across the exhibit hall, out through the open French Windows. A splash could be heard from out the front of the museum. Underneath the rug had risen the Tyrant Lizard King, Tyrannosaurus Rex. A disco ball hung from one of its lower fangs, and lights from the chandeliers on either side of the exhibit reflected off this orb. In its small claws was clutched a large acoustic guitar.
“I would’ve gone with an electric,” said Fritz, “but getting an amp in there was too much of a hassle.”
“This is the best museum exhibit ever!” said Gracie.
Kate frowned. “I don’t think I understand this piece anymore.”
“I don’t get it either,” said Alan. The two of them turned away to admire an exhibit of a basket containing a dead snake.
|# ¿ Apr 8, 2013 08:18|
|# ¿ Jan 16, 2021 21:14|
Assign me a story, please.
I am assigning you the story for which I earned this avatar. Also you have to go find it.
|# ¿ Apr 9, 2013 06:18|
What the hell man that link doesn't work.
|# ¿ Apr 10, 2013 07:06|
I'm in I guess also Nubile Hillock thank you for the story I enjoyed it.
|# ¿ Apr 24, 2013 07:00|
I guess we'll never find out.
My prediction is that either way, Bad Seafood is getting a new avatar.
|# ¿ Apr 26, 2013 07:18|
As a result of some conversation on IRC, I had a flash rule that I had to have Space Vampires in this story. 989 words including the title, except if I edit it some more now that it's here in front of me.
Nature Abhors a Vampire. In Space.
First contact was made at 0432 hours on Sunday morning, Azores time. Captain Jack had decreed that the ship run on Azores time in honour of David Lee Roth, whose grandmother was born there. First Lieutenant Todd, who was on watch at 0432 hours on Sunday morning, (Azores time) had, in private to Captain Jack, questioned this decision, suggesting that maybe just calling it Greenwich Mean Time would be simpler since they were basically the same time zone except that the Azores were at a latitude that suggested they wouldn’t be, which was really confusing if you didn’t know that they basically shared Portugal’s time zone. Captain Jack had confined him to his quarters with orders not to come out until he’d listened to Van Halen’s entire discography except for the ones from 1986-98, because it’d be a cold day in Hades before he’d consider the Sammy Hagar line up to be Van Halen.
At 0400 hours First Lieutenant Todd had emerged from his quarters thoroughly educated on the David Lee Roth years but no more a fan of Van Halen than he had previously been, ready to take his shift. At 0432 hours (Azores time) there’d been a tapping on the Starboard viewing pane. First Lieutenant Todd hadn’t noticed it because spaceship windows are really thick. He had, however, noticed when a beam of light was shone onto his slightly after midnight snack.
He looked up to see a man standing on the window. The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling. He was also waving and trying to say something to First Lieutenant Todd, but what with the whole really thick window situation that was mentioned earlier, and what with First Lieutenant Todd not being able to read lips, he had no idea what the sharp dressed man was trying to say, and just shrugged helplessly, as one does.
The chap who was standing on the outside looking in frowned, furrowed his brow, and then produced a large permanent marker from somewhere within his cape and started writing on the window, backwards so that First Lieutenant Todd could read it which is quite difficult and time consuming, and while he’d been writing it, Seventeenth Lieutenant Rebecca had arrived on the scene. Since Seventeenth Lieutenant is barely even a rank worth mentioning, I’ll be referring to her as Becky from now on.
“G’day Sir,” said Becky. “I’ve noticed there’s an impeccably dressed man standing on our window. How’d that come about?”
By now, the man outside had finished writing his message. “Please let me in, it’s quite cold out here. Also hello I come in peace. Take me to your leader. But mostly the bit about letting me in.”
“He writes very well considering he has to write backwards while standing in the vacuum of space without any kind of protective equipment,” said Becky. “Should I fetch the Etch A Sketch?”
“Please do,” said the First Lieutenant, “and I’ll get you to do the writing as well, as I always have difficulty getting those things to work properly.”
Becky went and retrieved the Etch A Sketch as requested, and, following his dictation, responded with “Hi who are you and how is it that you are able to survive in the vacuum of space without protective equipment? Also that is a very nice suit you have on.”
“You can call me Boris,” replied the outsider. “I represent a race that is very similar to the vampires of your folklore.”
“So, vicious bloodsucking monsters?”
“Whoa,” wrote Boris. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!!!!!” He got a little carried away with the exclamation marks. “That is an unfair misrepresentation of historic events.”
“Historic events? What do you mean?”
“Those writers always focussed on the negatives of any interactions we had with humans, like maybe someone got a bit carried away and there were unfortunate deaths,” said Boris. “And they never emphasised enough how well we dressed, or how good we are at counting. Well, most writers, anyway. Norman Stiles is a saint.”
“You know,” said Becky to First Lieutenant Todd, “he’s got a point about how well dressed he is, but I think on the whole it might be best if we just leave him out there. Also we actually don’t have any way to let him in.”
“Good point,” said First Lieutenant Todd. “OK, dictate this.”
“Sorry,” said the Etch A Sketch, “but due to cost cutting measures in making this ship, we don’t have an airlock so we can’t actually let you in.”
“Bollocks,” said Boris, although he didn’t bother writing this.
At 0536 hours on Sunday morning, (Azores time) the sun came back out from behind the planet they’d been orbiting, and Boris was disintegrated, suit and all. Which is a shame really, because it was a very nice suit, if a little too flammable, and Boris was really very good at counting, a skill which he’d unfortunately not had the opportunity to demonstrate to the on duty crew. Had he had that opportunity, and had cost cutting measures not prevented the construction of an airlock, it is possible that first contact might have gone a little better. As it was, the Space Vampires were quite upset at the disintegration of their diplomat, and despite the human delegation pointing out that sending their delegate to a small mining ship without any kind of protective equipment was kind of dumb, the Space Vampires were decidedly put out and refused to sponsor humans for an entry to the Galactic Olympic Games.
Which was a shame really, because the humans had a really good tiddlywinks team, and might have proven a decent match for the Space Werewolves. Oh well, there was always next decade.
|# ¿ Apr 28, 2013 13:00|
I just realised I wasted a perfect opportunity to call one of my characters Major Tom, curses!
|# ¿ Apr 28, 2013 20:52|
Fast judgin's good judgin', argh where's my prompt you jerks.
|# ¿ Apr 29, 2013 10:12|
Also victory! But even more heavily caveated!
I'll take it though.
|# ¿ Apr 30, 2013 07:24|
Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 14:03 on Apr 30, 2013
|# ¿ Apr 30, 2013 14:00|
Romancin' and Wranglin' says Lot's of romance.
|# ¿ May 9, 2013 07:10|
In. I'll start working on my excuses.
|# ¿ May 14, 2013 06:57|
Why I Was Unable to Submit on Time: The 100% Real and not at all Fabricated Account of Chairchucker's Excuse for Tardiness
So there I was at my desk, right. On my good chair, the one that's bolted down real firmly to prevent any unfortunate rage fueled mishaps. And I'm totes ready for some hardcore writing, flexing fingers and everything. Just as I'm about to start writing - and it's gonna be real amazing stuff - I hear an annoying laughing sound from back in my heirloom room, where I keep all my heirlooms. There's some really neat stuff in there, but a kookaburra is not usually one of them. On this occasion though, that's what I hear. I go back and have a sticky beak, and there's the thieving varmint getting his filthy claws on the bag that holds my prized sea shell collection. I make a lunge for the mangy thing, but nothin' doin', he's out of that room like a shot and away.
Well I ain't havin' that, of course, so out the window I go, and down the gum tree on which my treehouse is built. I whistle for the nearest emu, then hop on and chase after the avian thief. Now a kookaburra's not a slow bird by any means, but an emu cannot be beat for transport, let me tell you that for free. We've gotta dodge the occasional wombat hole, but we're gaining on the blighter.
Up ahead I see where the kookaburra's heading; should've known that dumb bird wouldn't be acting of his own volition. It's old Bazza's super tree fort. Real swish place, this is, but built on a bunch of bloody introduced trees, pine or something. Just awful. No class at all, Bazza. I slow up the emu, then stop, get off and send it on its way.
I crouch down and have a butcher's at the treetops near the entrance to his tree mansion. I'm sure Bazza wouldn't leave his place unguarded, and it turns out I'm right. Big dropbear just near the top of the best climbing tree, waiting for some drongo to try to climb in that way. Quick as a flash I grab a fallen stick and whittle it into a boomerang; not the most aerodynamic thing ever, but she'll do in a pinch. I take careful aim at the dropbear and then let fly.
Does it hit? Do dropbears poo in the woods? Bang on. The dropbear gets a little dazed, then falls towards me like... well, like a dropbear. Which goes to show that even I don't plan things out too well all the time. So the dropbear's coming down all fur and claws, and I whip out my whittling knife and prepare for its onslaught. The scuffle that ensues is brief and violent, but suffice to say I emerge triumphant, if a little bloodied. No sense wasting a perfectly good dropbear though, so I skin it and make myself a fearsome looking dropbear hat, with the fierce looking eyes looking out over my own and all. Then I go over to the tree and get to climbing.
Now, say what you will about these bloody introduced trees - and I will, strewth they're awful - but bloody hell they make climbing much easier. I'm up that tree like a shot, and on to Bazza's front veranda. I walk in his front house, as bold as you please, and make my way towards his pool room. That's gotta be where he's got my shells, I'm reckoning to myself.
Well, nothing could prepare me for what I find in there. A few of the other blokes had mentioned some of their heirlooms had gone missing; well every single one of them is somewhere in Bazza's pool room. The blighter'd been stealing them all, and there he is placing my shells amongst them.
"Oi!" I says.
He turns around, and then, seeing me, puts the bag behind his back and says "Oi, what? This is private property, mate, now clear off before I sick me dingo on you!"
"Hand over the shells, you cretin. My old man collected those shells, so he did, and he didn't do that to have some bloody galah put them in his family room in pretty patterns."
"Family room?" His voice is raised now, and he's forgotten about trying to pretend he hasn't nicked my shells. "I'll have you know this is a bonafide pool room, and probably the most grouse one in this district!" He steps down on one of my shells, hard.
"Oi, hang about now! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
He's ignoring me though, and stamping all about on my shells in a rage. Just then I spot it.
Sleek. Wooden backed. Cushioned. Aerodynamic. The perfect chair. It's closer to me than it is to him. I'm upon the perfect projectile before he realises what's happening, and, well, you can guess the rest.
But in case you can't, I hurl the chair at him. It bounces off of his noggin with a pleasant walloping sound, and down he goes like a sack of spuds. "Bonza," I shout.
My foe dispatched, I bend down and assess the damage. It's quite severe. I scoop up the shattered remains of my shell collection, give him a friendly kick in the ribs to be going on with, then out of his treehouse again and down the tree, stopping only to key his Toyota.
And then when I get home, Neighbours is on, so what can you do, eh?
|# ¿ May 20, 2013 07:20|
I shall write a thing that has a moral.
|# ¿ May 21, 2013 16:54|
A chance to feed you your keister again, judged by Count von Count himself? It's like Christmas!
Oh OK. Well then. Erogenous Kaishai brawl rules:
Write me a fairytale.
No hard word count, just don't write so many words that I start resenting you, or it will definitely count against you.
You've got a week plus twelve hours from now. Go!
|# ¿ May 22, 2013 20:49|
I just got back from work and now I'm gonna start making up something hella preachy, woo. Hopefully have it here before Noah wakes up.
|# ¿ May 27, 2013 03:51|
One afternoon, Barry the sloth was destroying noobs in Rise of the Megatherium when he heard the sound of a chainsaw. At first he ignored it, because he was on a really good kill streak and, besides, he hadn’t had breakfast yet, and he hated to go outside before he’d had breakfast. Then his tree started vibrating, and although he tried to block it out with his superior training, he was distracted enough to fall prey to someone’s mole mine.
He slowly made his way over to his greeting branch, grabbed a handful of leaves to munch on, then hung from the branch and gazed downwards to where the chainsaw sound was coming from.
The chainsaw sound was coming from a chainsaw. The chainsaw was held by James the Beaver. James looked up and saw Barry, then looked down at his chainsaw, then up at Barry again, and then switched off his chainsaw. “Hey,” said James. “Gonna have to ask you to clear the area, Sir. Got an order to fell this here tree.”
Barry chewed his mouthful of leaves pensively, considering James’ words. He swallowed, then grabbed another bunch of leaves, put them in his mouth and chewed them. After swallowing the second mouthful of leaves he looked down at James and said “What do you even need the chainsaw for?”
James looked at the chainsaw. “Well, to cut down this tree. I don’t… what kind of question is that, even?”
“Uh.” Barry considered this. “But you’re. I mean. What’s the point of you being - OK never mind.”
James frowned. “So. About the whole you getting out of the tree so I can continue cutting it down thing. How about that, eh?”
Barry frowned and ate some more leaves. “I’ve given it some thought,” he said, “and given that it is my tree and I live in it, I would prefer it if you didn’t actually cut it down. Have you given any thought to not cutting it down? Because that’s the outcome I’d like here. An outcome where you don’t cut down my tree.”
James pulled out a piece of paper and looked at it carefully. “The work order doesn’t say anything about me not cutting down any trees. In fact, it says exactly the opposite. It is telling me to cut down this tree, which is what I’m doing.”
“Yes, but, see, it’s my tree. Someone else can’t tell you to cut down my tree, can they?”
James furrowed his brow and absent-mindedly chewed on some bark. “Oh wait. Yes. That’s the thing. The thing I was meant to tell you. You don’t own the tree anymore.”
Barry was quite vexed at this. “This vexes me greatly,” he said, backing up my narrative description quite nicely. “How could I come to not own it? I’m no expert in legal matters, but I’m pretty sure that, well, that sounds unchill.”
“Right, well,” said James. “Well. Here’s the thing. This is what the thing is. Apparently you haven’t paid some bills. For about three years. And they sent you mail about it and everything and basically your tree is being repossessed. And also cut down.”
“Hey, hey,” said Barry. “Hey. I was totally gonna get around to those bills. Seriously. It was on my to do list.”
“Right. Well. You should’ve done those things,” said James. “Those things on your list of things to do. Because now I’m going to cut down your tree.”
Barry thought about this and realised that he hadn’t dropped out of his game in Rise of the Megatherium, and he might be giving up some easy kills, so he went back inside and started playing again, reasoning that he could probably get used to the vibrating for as long as it took James to cut his tree down.
The moral of this story is something about avoiding sloths and their razor sharp claws or whatever.
|# ¿ May 27, 2013 05:15|
Wait, not story. Fable. Moral of this fable. Hey, screw you.
|# ¿ May 27, 2013 05:16|
OK cool I will read those when I get home from work this arvo.
|# ¿ May 29, 2013 20:59|
So do we just post it whenever we're done?
No, you post it before you're done, judging from the most recent entry. :/
Oh hey Erogenous Beef and Kaishai. Half assed judging coming your way.
OK so Beef I liked this one although TBH I'm not sure that being a tale containing a fairy necessarily makes it a fairytale, know what I'm saying? Anyway so I kind of enjoyed it like I said although the whole bat being an evil jerk thing, well the way Mort at first was all like 'nah it's cool' for a moment I was hoping you'd actually have a protagonist who wasn't too dumb to be talked into trying to murder a bunch of people, but apparently not. I kinda felt bad for him because basically everyone crapped on him so good work making me feel for the main guy I guess.
Also that cat was a jerk, so kudos for making that true to life. (Cats suck.) Ending was kinda anticlimactic, although who am I to talk I guess. (The judge, that's who!)
Kai, yours was slightly more fairytaleish although I maybe didn't empathise with your weird bird loving protagonist as much as I did with the plumber, until near the end I guess. Thought you could've done more with the end, like, the moustache twirlingly evil (what's the feminine equivalent? Would it have to do with feather boas or some kind of fur wearingness, ala Cruela De Vil?) lady's stomping his bird so he kills the hell out of her and barely pauses to shed a tear for any of what's happened, dunno maybe you could've wrung a bit more emotion out of that somehow. Oh also turning a bird into a heart for a girl who tried to kill him so she can become his wife or whatever the plan is there, is weird. I'm not sure how I felt about that ending in general really.
Having said all that, and taking into account that it was a bit more fairytaleish and even though I was conflicted about the ending it was probably slightly better in terms of closure, I am going to award this to Kaishai (helped by the fact that the title reminded me of this, which is cool: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGU_4-5RaxU
Congratulations Kaishai, come and collect your prize of bragging rights or whatever.
|# ¿ May 30, 2013 13:58|
Old Testament Studies with Chairchucker.
Hello Thunderdome. An observation I've made over some past 'domes, is that 'domers love them some Biblically inspired prose sometimes, but they seem to be stuck on the New Testament. Which is a shame because frankly the Old Testament has some way cool stories of people getting invaded and cut into small pieces or whatever. So this week, we're going to be
Just inspiration though. No Biblical characters allowed in any of your stories.
And to make doubly sure, genre is 'sci-fi'. (The broad definition that says if it has any futuristic crap in it, it counts as sci-fi.) And if you try to write Christ figure in space, God help you.
Once you sign up, I will personally assign you a passage of the Bible (with link to an easy to find version of it) to
Sign ups close 2300 (11 pm) Friday AUSTRALIAN EASTERN STANDARD TIME. That's +10 GMT so work it out you jerks, I always have to work out your heathen timezones.
Submissions close 12 noon on Monday, also AEST.
Word count: 1359 MAXIMUM because apparently that's the date of Jesus' ascension in 2013.
Also Oxxidation said he would help judge if needed so he's totally a co-judge.
PEOPLE WHO ARE IN:
Some links are from different places because one of my sources that I'm trying to use a lot because it's rad doesn't have all the verses I wanna use.
asap-salafi who sent me a PM because he's probated but he's totes in anyway - Genesis 34:1-34
Ceighk - Judges 5:1-8
Purple Prince - Genesis 19:30-36
Accretionist - Genesis 38:1-10
Auraboks - Judges 1:9-17
Surreptitious Muffin - Joshua 6:1-7:1
Walamor - 2 Samuel 11:2-28
Voliun - 2 Samuel 21:15-21 and 1 Chronicles 20:4-5
The Saddest Rhino - Exodus 2:11-15
Dr. Kloctopussy - Judges 4:1-5:31
The Duke of Avon - 1 Kings 18:20-40
Peel - Genesis 11:1-9
FBH991 - Genesis 22:1-14
Magnificent7 - Exodus 32
JonasSalk - Genesis 25:21-34
Nikaer Drekin - Genesis 39:1-20
ultrachrist - Deuteronomy 22:23-29
crabrock - Numbers 21:4-9
HaitianDivorce - Judges 16:4-21
Sitting Here - Judges 6:25-31
Gygaxian - Judges 8:33-9:5
Found Sound - 2 Samuel 13:1-21
old dog child (I think you said you're in I dunno but here's a verse) - Judges 3:12-30
Max22 - 2 Kings 9:30-37
Fumblemouse - 1 Chronicles 10
benem - Genesis 29:14-30
Erogenous Beef - 1 Kings:1-7
Space Gozilla - Isaiah 27:1
Kaishai - Psalm 40
Sebmojo - Numbers 7:3
Mike Works - Exodus 12:29-30
Bad Seafood - Leviticus 11:10
Nubile Hillock - 1 Samuel 18:17-28
Schneider Heim - Deuteronomy 15:1-6
Jagermonster - Jonah 4
Wrageowrapper - Hosea 1:2
Jopoho - Ezekiel 25:15-17
Symptomless Coma - Joshua 2:1-7
Zekky - Ezekiel 32:17-32
Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 07:13 on Jun 7, 2013
|# ¿ Jun 5, 2013 13:15|
Everyone who posted that they were on on page 79 has a verse!
Aaaaand back to it.
|# ¿ Jun 6, 2013 06:56|
I have versed up all the page 80 people, now to add verses for page 81 which is mercifully shorter!
EDIT: Also just realised I didn't even say what day sign ups closed. Now I have done that! (It is not today.)
PS: hope no one expects line by line crits or any of that malarkey. I don't know who set the precedent of huge crits for every piece, but screw that guy.
ANOTHER EDIT: OK EVERYONE WHO POSTED BEFORE THIS POST RIGHT HERE NOW HAS A VERSE.
Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 09:11 on Jun 6, 2013
|# ¿ Jun 6, 2013 08:34|
I clicked the link for my passage yesterday, saw the sentence there and figured that was it. So I thought up a story idea, wrote a few ideas down, etc.... then I just realized now that the link was only the first sentence and not the entire passage and poo poo, not the direction I was going
That's cool, either way the idea is just to use some element of the passage as inspiration, you don't have to use all of the thing.
Also I've added the only extra person and Hillock who I accidentally skipped or whatever so I think you're all versed up but let me know if not!
|# ¿ Jun 7, 2013 07:14|
Oh also sign ups just closed.
|# ¿ Jun 7, 2013 13:14|
23 hours left to submit.
|# ¿ Jun 9, 2013 03:00|
12 hours left.
|# ¿ Jun 9, 2013 14:01|
Everyone got an extra hour because I like sleep so much! Truly I am a merciful and also lazy master.
But submissions are closed. If you haven't submitted yet, please still do, but you're not eligible for winning or whatever.
|# ¿ Jun 10, 2013 03:18|
Winner is Sebmojo but Kaishai wrote a good story too.
Loser is Voliun but Peel is drat lucky.
ANOTHER EDIT: Oh I forgot to mention, there were a number of non submissions and while of course all of them have brought shame upon their children and their children's children and soforth, ultrachrist used as his excuse the nonsensical idea that Australia Time is dumb, so he's the biggest loser of all.
Sebmojo is the winner by virtue of he made me laugh and he called his protagonist Bruce Dennis and there was a wagon in the story, which was good. It felt like you were pandering a bit to your audience of me, but as it happens I'm totally all right with that. Also good was Kaishai who also kind of pandered to Things That I Like but probably without knowing it, and some other people were OK I guess but those two were the stand outs. So Sebmojo give us a prompt you jerk, and hey Kaishai you should judge this next round as well IMO. And I dunno, Seb/Kai pick one more judge between the two of you whatever.
The worst was oh my goodness so many of you and that doesn't even count the ones that only had time to write half a story before the deadline because at least they were mercifully short. Let's start from the top and I'll tell you why all of your stories were bad.
Now, one of my rules was that you would not include any Biblical characters. With that in mind, straight out of the gate Nikaer Drekin, straight out of the gate changing Joseph's name to Josephine and then leaving every other element of the story the same. Lesson learned, Chairchucker, don't give them a verse with any kind of a narrative as inspiration, or they'll just retell the story in space and call that inspiration. Yes I know I had 'plagiarise' in there crossed out but that was a joke and you weren't actually suppos- OK never mind, you didn't win but you weren't the worst.
Erogenous Beef, I enjoyed the jokes in this, even though, again, you were clearly pandering to me and my wholly deserved reputation of liking silly humour and puns, but at times I found the plot incoherent and difficult to follow. Having said that, no story with a cat named Bark Doggington will ever be in the losing half of the field on my watch.
Ceighk. You didn't even bother to change Samson's name. What the hell. And literal mechanical firebreathing foxes, really? Like, just take a theme or something as inspiration, I dunno. Not the worst or ever in real contention for worst though.
Schneider Heim. My other judge kind of liked this one. I didn't. Didn't really feel like it went anywhere. Kinda liked the description of space Mah Jong I guess. That worked.
FBH991. This had a chance of losing, not because it was completely horrific but because there were plenty of spelling errors and too much telling and no showing. Like, you even skipped over some conversation in favour of saying 'I informed her of these things' which sometimes works for stylistic reasons but doesn't here. Next time give us some action instead of telling us that once, long ago, a thing happened.
Found Sound. This was creepy as hell and better than any of the things I read before it. Also points for being creepy in a less awful way than might reasonably have happened given the prompt. Maybe a little too abstract I dunno.
Walamor. Pretty good, but again suffered a little bit from almost being the narrative translated into space.
Haitian Divorce. Same literal translation grievances as above but overall enjoyable and competent and you didn't call him Samson, so there's that.
Kaishai. May have had an unfair advantage because of the more abstract nature of your passage thus not letting you just rewrite a narrative, but whatevs. The symbolism of new song/vocal chords ripped out was good, as was gradual thematic shift. Really dug the ending. Really liked it in general. Having said that, it contained a Justiciar which seems to be a thing in sci-fi things now, I don't much care for that.
Sebmojo. I already talked about this before but I liked the pun in the title, didn't pick that up before.
Symptomless Coma. This story's a bit messy. Too many double punctuation marks next to quotation marks. And I couldn't really tell what was going on. And the spoiler text revelation didn't help that much.
Auraboks. I kinda liked this one mostly because the method of beating the city was pretty clever, and for some reason I didn't pick the ending at all. Pretty decent.
Peel. I hate to discourage experimental writing styles or whatever but I couldn't get into this at all. Completely impenetrable. No Sir, I don't like it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDGlN6mluGA
Wrageowrapper. I did not care for this story. Too much heavy handed ye olde biblical stuff for no apparent reason. And then the pay off at the end with everyone wanting to rescue the hookers is kind of lame and also didn't work because somehow there was like a billion people on the radio to them whereas previously they'd just been getting shot down by one guy. Also some spelling errors like your you're that should never be made.
Fumblemouse. Did the whole weird alien crap thing pretty decently. Did however name someone Dagon, hey everyone when I tell you not to have any Biblical characters in your story, stop naming your characters after the characters from the verses I gave you, you jerks.
Surreptitious Muffin. I actually enjoyed this a whole lot and it made me laugh too, it was just not quite as good as the ones that won, also I think there were some spelling errors and they always hurt my heart when I come across them so there's that. Fix that and it could've been a contender if I was the only person you had to please because I eat up that kind of tone, and I think you know it like the other panderers.
Voliun. Spelling errors and a mildly incoherent plot that was hard to follow and not being very good. By itself not necessarily completely damning, especially in this week's company, but your protagonist has an apostrophe in its name so you're the loser.
Bad Seafood. This was pretty good even though all that happened was they found a corpse and the Chaplain was a softie and wanted to throw it back. While I am generally of the school of thought that narrative exposition is awful unless done in an intentional over the top and humorous way, I found myself wanting to know why they were draining the ocean. And also where the heck they were putting all that water. Was it like Waterworld in reverse and they were building large ice mountains at the poles? Anyway. Decent IMO.
asap-salafi. The only real problem I have with this one is that you turned a story of rape, betrayal and revenge into a story of a diplomat making a phone call.
JonasSalk. As I mentioned to you earlier, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5Tow84PrLY&t=1m46s
Sitting Here. Your half of a story was better than some full stories and less impenetrable than Peel's whatever that was, so good on you. Next time please write two halves I guess.
And that's everyone.
HEY SEBMOJO WHERE'S OUR PROMPT.
Chairchucker fucked around with this message at 13:52 on Jun 11, 2013
|# ¿ Jun 11, 2013 13:38|
Where's our prompt, you jerk?
|# ¿ Jun 18, 2013 11:41|
Yeah OK I guess, and I'm glancing at the 'Thought Experiment' page and it looks just about vague enough to allow me to write whatever I please and then later justify it, outstanding.
|# ¿ Jun 18, 2013 13:34|
Already got my idea, it's like, what if we're all actually plugged into a virtual reality in order to use us as batteries in some kind of power farm? Whoa.
Totes original. No one steal this idea OK.
|# ¿ Jun 18, 2013 13:50|
Adventure. Grade 3.
Describe a fun vacation with a disagreeable lemon who must walk across a rickety rope bridge.
Oh and I'm in however, what.
|# ¿ Jul 2, 2013 20:54|
I won't be able to submit near the deadline, so here comes a hastily constructed entry a little early. BTW my thing was:
Adventure. Grade 3.
Describe a fun vacation with a disagreeable lemon who must walk across a rickety rope bridge.
Hufflepuffs are Particularly Good Finders A number of words that is probably fewer than whatever the prompt required.
Nepal is freaking rad. Of course, I wanted to go to Disneyland, but Cindy was into some kind of inner spirituality thing that apparently a plane ride to Nepal would help with. Also apparently they had some neat mountains or whatever. But it was cool, because she told me we could go to Nepalese Disneyland.
Except it turns out there isn't actually a Nepalese Disneyland. Apparently she was 'joking', which really means she lied. To my face. So I was angry for a bit, but then, as previously mentioned it turned out that Nepal was rad, so I was less angry, but didn't tell her that I wasn't angry because she had to feel my resentment for a little bit longer until she agreed that next time, we'd totally go to Disneyland.
So anyway, we were on a hiking trail which was apparently on some pilgrimage route or whatever, I don't know how this stuff works, but the views were cool. We were about to cross a massive bridge when we were verbally accosted.
"Hey. Hey, you!"
There was no one there, so I asked Cindy "Is this part of that whole inner peace thing you're on or whatever?"
"I dunno," she said. "I've never tried finding myself before. Maybe the disembodied voice is part of that."
"Down here, you mugs!" said the voice again, and we tried to look wherever down there was. "Yes, no, a little to your left, you're just about stepping on me, yes there you are!"
It was a rock with a lemon on it. "A talking rock?" asked Cindy.
"Don't be daft," the rock appeared to say, "rocks can't talk. I'm on top of the rock." Cindy picked up the lemon and turned it over. "Whoa. Hey. Seriously, I get vertigo real bad, knock that off."
"So." I said. "You're a lemon then."
"Really? Huh." The lemon sounded a little taken aback by this piece of news. "Is that a slang term for something? Wait, I think I know this one, and it's terribly offensive."
"No," said Cindy, "you are literally a lemon. A citrus fruit."
"Right," said the lemon. "This wasn't the deal at all. I am going to march right up to that wise man and demand my money back." Cindy and I both stared at the lemon and his distinct lack of legs rather pointedly. "Ah, I see you're staring at where my legs would be if lemons had legs, which they don't which is why I don't have legs," said the lemon. "A fair point. I should rephrase that to 'you're going to march me up to that wise man and demand my money back.'"
"Is it OK if we just walk?" I asked. "Marching is a bit too military for my liking."
"That is acceptable."
"So where is this wise man, anyway?" asked Cindy. "Can he help me find myself?"
"Just across this bridge," said the lemon.
"You know," I told Cindy, "I hate to appear shallow, but if, in finding inner peace, you were transformed into some kind of fruit, I'm not sure our relationship would survive. I just want to stress that I'm not saying that the fact you're not a lemon is the only reason I love you, but it is definitely a contributing factor. I feel I should put that out in the open now, before we meet this wise man."
"Thank you for being honest with me," said Cindy. "If, in finding myself, I discover that I am a lemon, or even a kumquat or some kind of melon, I will totally understand if you no longer desire me. Personally, I find myself also hoping I am none of those things."
We took a relationship course once, you see. Apparently honesty is very important. There were some other things as well, but I don't do so well with learning a bunch of different concepts all at once, so I just stuck with that one.
"All right, well if you two are finished getting in touch with your feelings, how about we cross this bridge so I can give this wise man a piece of my mind?" The lemon sounded a little bit disgruntled, so Cindy and I agreed that we would endeavour to get it to its destination as quickly as we could so that it might once again be gruntled. Cindy tucked the lemon into her handbag, and we crossed the bridge. There was a man with a beard sitting on a hill on the other side of the bridge.
"Hi," he said. "I'm a genuine wise man. Not like all these other charlatans you'll find on neighbouring hilltops. I can totes help you find yourself or get inner peace or whatever you're up here for. Only five hundred rupees."
Cindy reached into her handbag and pulled out our new friend. "Hey!" said the lemon. "I've got a bone to pick with you! Apparently, you turned me into a lemon! That's not what I paid for at all, and I want my money back!"
The wise man chuckled. "Twas but a harmless jape," he said. But he reached into his coin purse and he offered the lemon back his money.
"Uh." The lemon seemed uncertain. "Could you grab that for me?" he asked Cindy. Cindy obligingly took the rupees and stuffed them into her handbag. Then we agreed that given that he'd turned our new friend into a lemon as a prank, maybe we shouldn't entrust him with Cindy's inner peace.
So anyway, Cindy didn't really find herself in Nepal, but we did find our new travelling companion, who although occasionally a little disagreeable, was relatively easy to travel with as he didn't pack any luggage, and if Cindy and I needed a little privacy, we could just put him in the fridge for a bit. (It turned out the lemon was a dude. We couldn't really tell when we first met him, because lemons have kind of an androgynous voice.) And the best thing is, Cindy agreed that next time we went somewhere, we'd totally go to Disneyland.
|# ¿ Jul 7, 2013 13:47|
YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ME MAN!
Oh wait, I stand corrected.
|# ¿ Jul 10, 2013 06:55|
I will be judging, but don't feel that means you need to pander to my capricious whims. Having said that; in honour of the delicious orange cake I just baked last night, FLASH RULE the next person to sign up gets to write us all a story that significantly involves food.
|# ¿ Jul 16, 2013 06:50|
I love Granny Smith apples, just so you know. I'm expecting great things.
Wow, that is some outrageously bad taste in apples my fellow judge has.
|# ¿ Jul 17, 2013 06:26|
Oh no! Did a Korean person die?
This post puzzles me, I have no idea what it's about at all. I resent being puzzled, so FLASH RULE: Your story will be set in Korea. North or South, I don't mind.
|# ¿ Jul 18, 2013 06:49|
Here are my 'crits' in which I will mostly just tell you why I hated your story.
Mercedes: I hated that your story was mostly told in the present tense. Also at first I wasn't sure how your colour worked into the story and thought that maybe it was about how black the characters were acting, but aaaanyway.
Didn't hate the story as a whole though except that nothing much happened.
Captain Platypus: I hated that your six year old protagonist could've been an adult but for the fact that you specifically told us she was six. I hated that the entire story was 'the world's been destroyed and we're all dying' and then everyone dying, with no real events happening in between. I hated that instead of using the colour prompt, you made the story about a disease that occurs in the absence of one half of the prompt.
That being said, you were not in my loser pile either.
Besesoth: I didn't really hate anything about this story. Well researched, tied a whole lot of interesting things into the prompt, unveiled the mystery in an interesting and believable way. Good job. (Not in my favourites pile though, sorry.)
Umbilical Lotus: I didn't hate anything about this either, this was in my favourites pile. At first I was worried that the protagonist's inattentiveness was gonna lead to tragedy, but I really dig the direction your story went in.
Nubile Hillock: So is bro fiction a thing now or something? I don't really mind, I found this entertaining. It's cool.
Whalley: I hated the characters. Also, re this line: "These three guys, three goddamn soldiers, they want to take time out of protecting our country, out of sweating in the fuckin' sand and that light blue haze of a sky to talk about who they want to gently caress?" If that's really the reason he joined in beating them up, I'll assume he spent almost all his time beating up every single person he ever fought alongside. Well written though, it's just that it's filled with horrible people that kind of puts me off.
The Swinemaster: I really enjoyed this one and I think it's because 'Pinkbaby' as the name of one of the characters amused me more than it really should've. It was actually in my winner pile.
Symptomless Coma: I hated the ending. He served the food and, then what? The main focus of the story, his struggle to convince his daughter to eat something he's cooked, and you just kind of stop talking about it. The last paragraph doesn't seem to have a drat thing to do with the rest of the narrative.
Sitting Here: I didn't really like the closing dialogue. Good story for the most part. Not in my winner pile though.
Fumblemouse: I didn't mind this one, although I was similarly bemused about how somehow a carrot going out of a rabbit's mouth is totes inappropes or whatever, and I kinda felt like not much happened.
Anathema Device: I hated that at one point you referred to your protagonist as 'Same'. This was still my favourite though. It was just a really nice story well told, the contrasting of the protagonist's expectations of her brother with the reality, and her gradual shift of attitude was really good.
CantDecideOnAName: I hated the pointlessness of the whole magic thing. I hated "He wanted to be struck by lightning." I hated "He took it, and she pulled herself upright, and lightning struck." I hated "I'm the infamous Jenny." Over all, I did not like this story. Not in my pile of failure though. Oh also, I hate granny smith apples, so there's that too.
M. Propagandalf: I hated that you had the freaking audacity to write a vampire story that wasn't even set in space. I hated the pretentious tone of everything in the first three quarters or so of the story. I hated "The thought sent Kristoff into a frenzy. In a span of second, he swept a span of three blocks, before seizing the girl from behind." I really hated this story. So much. Really.
Also I like the name Sylvie and you made a character named Sylvie who is just a terrible character and I hate you for that too. This story was in my pile of failure.
Sebmojo: Yeah it was a good story I guess, I just wasn't really feeling it for some reason. Liked the ending though.
Nikaer Drekin: Quite enjoyed this one, even though there was a fair amount of telling instead of showing, I think it kinda worked here.
Squilliam Fancyson: I hated that the story was basically "a guy goes to a cafe and orders something that relates to the prompt but, due to reminiscing doesn't eat it, then calls his mum." I hated the weird hyphen thing. I hated that it was only after going into a cafe that he SUDDENLY REMEMBERED that his dad had died or something, what the hell is that? I hated this story, and I didn't have a lot of hate left after that vampire thing. Pile of failure.
Jagermonster: I hated that the main character was so unbelievably pure and righteous to the point of making up a terrible song about Germany. I almost expected the sun to glint off of his immaculately shiny teeth next to his huge square jaw. I hated the heavy handedness of the message. I hated that you misspelled the colour of your crayon before you even started. I hated this story and it was in my pile of failure.
Higgz: I hate that your user name isn't capitalised, although that doesn't really relate to this story, I'm just sayin' is all. I hate that it's a little unclear at times what's happening. I hate that with your protagonist being brainwashed right away, there's no relatable characters. I hated that I couldn't tell what the heck the italics were supposed to represent exactly. Kinda still didn't mind the story though.
Noah: I mostly didn't mind this story, but I hate how, after eating the takeaway, Shelly suddenly teleports to her office with no warning. I hate how whiney she is in the opening conversation. I didn't really like either character come to think of it. Still a pretty decent story.
That's all the 'crits', woo. More indepth crits NEVER.
|# ¿ Jul 24, 2013 07:45|
|# ¿ Jan 16, 2021 21:14|
I await the crits like scorching stones from a hateful god.
Whoa now, Jagermonster's story was amazing, you jive turkey.
|# ¿ Aug 6, 2013 07:44|