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  • Locked thread
SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
There's quite a few actually. I don't think he knows what a syllable is. Either that or he's just super loving lazy and arrogant and couldn't spare five minutes to edit the thing. See also: random tense shifts.

Leekster, the bar is set. Suck less. I have faith in you.

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SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
RichardGamingo: quick crit.

1) is it humble?

N/A but Richie's boasting about how he could tell an awesome story in just one sentence sure as poo poo isn't. That's called poetry brosef, and you suck at that too.

Failed.

2) is it simple?

I can't tell what the gently caress is happening but I think so?

Tentative pass.

3) two syllables or less?

Ahaha gently caress off.

Fail hard.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
It's too late! He's a totally badical rebel won't play by our rules. I tried to take his badge and gun but he was too much of a loose cannon.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Alright, I'm home now. Time to give this a proper crit.

RichardGamingo posted:

Gamingo vs Leekster 800-1000 words 2 syllables max

"Batten down the hatches on the poop! There be a slurry storm up ahead!" Those sure are some boat words. Action is a stronger opener than dialogue. Captain Sherlock Oh yay a reference you're like The Family Guy shouted to the crew on deck. Mary already knew the storm had been set sent? to meet her on this voyage and remained below deck The storm remained below deck? Write this sentence better . She was not a crew member anyhow. And whether the ship float or sink floated or sank did not bother her sense of justice in the least.

1 Paragraph in and I'm already drowning in a deluge of malapropisms, spelling mistakes and lovely cliche dialogue. Would it have killed you to spell check the drat thing, or would that damage your :smuggo: TOO COOL 4 SKOOL internet persona?

The sailing crew closed the hatch Mary was looking up through as the winds picked up this mess of a sentence is a nightmare to parse. A solid wind pushing the Captain's petticoat 3 SYLLABLES, ALSO UNLESS THE CAPTAIN IS A CROSSDRESSER IT'S NOT EVEN THE CORRECT WORD into a fan at the back of him, he looked to the not-so-distant storm with its wide, tall clouds and heavy rains. After another moment he raises the lens of an eye glass to his sight. WTF tense shift?

Lightning fills the too-dark evening with blinks of intense white light. Captain Sherlock keeps his eyes fixed to the storm, one looking through the eye glass. The shocking flashes exactly 3 SYLLABLES what he needs to spy deeper into the chaos ahead. Dancing white light given off by the hearty strikes bounces among the cloud's wet drops before his view. Jesus christ I am getting garden pathed so much you can call me a loving Englishman. Punctuation is your friend.The captain's steady gaze watching the roil of the stormfront, his mind making careful note of the scene before him.
Without a hatch to look through, Mary sat and picked her needle and thread from a nearby table. Before she knew it she was back to knitting KNITTING DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY, "All of these waves and my tummy remains settled." Did she suddenly turn into a jolly cartoon mouse? What's with the kiddie book dialogue? Who talks like this? Mary muses over the work as the needle slips up, through, around, up through, around, up, through, around... "This black thread is just perfect for deathmasks." WHAT? WHAT IN THE poo poo IS EVEN GOING ON HERE.
A flash of light. Dancing. The light taking too long to fade. Captain Sherlock knows. Its hail that's up ahead.

The captain tucked the seeing eye glass under his left arm and stared into the stormfront for another 3 SYLLABLES moment. He minds I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT WORD YOU MEANT TO USE HERE BUT THIS IS VERY WRONG himself, "A rain of hail might damage the sails. Hail wrapped up in violent 3 SYLLABLES winds, doubly so. God knows that with enough force it will punch right through the deck. The storm looks as if it will be upon us in a matter of five minutes." DIALOGUE ROBOT INITIATE PROGRAM OLDE TIMEY SAILOR MAN BEEP BOOP BOATS.
"Higher waves are on the way." Sherlock turns to deliver 3 SYLLABLES the storm's bad news to the crew.

Ten gusts rocked the boat, each in their turn. The first rocked into the starboard hull and the ship turned to an angle of seventy 3 SYLLABLES degrees. The second gust arrived with out without any more power, though the din of the kitchen's pots cascade pots' from cabinet to floor was enough to shake the novice shiphand WHERE THE gently caress DID THIS GUY COME FROM from his nerves, though no novice be aboard the ship THEN WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ONE, DUMBASS?. The winds picked up their beat and began a regular 3 SYLLABLES howling about the mast, the ladders, and finally 3 SYLLABLES roared upon their own terrible 3 SYLLABLES accord.

A third gust carried a wave of twenty-five foot JUST SAY "A TWENTY FIVE FOOT WAVE" JESUS WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING THE STUPID WAY, the fourth, fifth, and sixth wracked the ship in rapid tempo such that they seemed to strike as one. The poopdeck tehee poop hit a fifty degree angle and Barney went overboard 3 SYLLABLES with the metal sheet the sailors were placing over a weak spot above the cargo chamber I LOVE UNCLEAR SENTENCES. Sherlock, shouting, gave the signal to get below deck. His voice caught in the howling wind but the seamen spotted his gesture through the flailing of rope and rain.
The crew made it to the fore of the quarter deck where the hatch down was please tell me honestly is English your second language? I mean there's tons of ESL writers in the 'dome who are amazing so it's no excuse but it would probably explain some things. Otherwise, I am completely at a loss as to why you always choose the most awkward way to say something.. The captain, into his chambers THIS IS NOT A SENTENCE. Gust seven struck and took first mate Gallant, who was braving the tumult to keep the hatch raised for his fellows, into the drink. The eight wind came with a wave and the soaked deck was flooded. Crew mate John -- last in line -- HOLY poo poo IS THIS A CASE OF CLEVER PUNCTUATION USE THAT ENHANCES THE STORY GOOD GOD HOW DID THIS GET HERE DID YOU STEAL IT FROM A BETTER WRITER? was nearly taken by the waters. John's white-knuckled grip on the edge of the first stair down his grace. He pulled himself through the portal WHY PORTAL? WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO USE THE MOST PRETENTIOUS WORD? IT'S A loving DOOR, JACKASS and the gushing waters followed his descent hot.

The heavy hatch door remained open, flush with the deck. The ninth gust came with a thunder. The fury shot the sail with hot light. hot light? HOT LIGHT?

The tenth gust blew them all down.
----------------------------------
btw sorry I lost No, no you're loving not. You were given a whole week and judging from the timestamps between "writing is haaaaaard" and you posting, you put all of half an hour into this piece of poo poo. I asked you to drop the attitude and make me give a poo poo: you did neither. I asked you to be humble and sincere, you did neither. I give up on you: I know you're going to go home and fume about this, then write me off as a 'hater' so what's the point in trying to help you? Bitches I'm out.

I have done a drawing of you, and put exactly as much effort into it as you put into your story.



It is quickly becoming clear that I am the least impartial judge in the whole world, and should not be the one judging this. If somebody else wants to take over, that's fine by me.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

PM from Leekster posted:

Gamingo is also a racist or at least ignorant.

http://forums.somethingawful.com/sh...2#post429051094
Nobody likes a grass. The way to beat him is to write a better story: I don't give a poo poo about anything he's done outside this thread re brawl judgement. His story is a mess, but there's some nice imagery buried under all the wank, and it's not inconceivable that he takes the win, if you're worse.

Don't worry, I will get histrionically angry at your piece too. It's only fair.

I said I would judge him fairly. His story is poo poo, but I'm still willing to take it on the few merits it has.

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 06:22 on May 4, 2014

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
ONLY THE STORY MATTERS. WORK ON IT.



RichardGamingo. You're not beyond redemption or improvement. You have an excellent vocabulary, but you need to learn when not to use it for the service of the story. You've also got a flair for imagery, but you overuse metaphor to the point where you're impossible to understand. Your sentences are massively overcomplicated and confusing with dangling participles out the rear end. In three words

DIAL

IT

BACK


We get it, you know lots of words. Fiction isn't about proving how smart and awesome you are to the world, it's about telling stories. Dial back the ten-dollar vocab, dial back the overwrought metaphor, dial back the stupid loving ego and you could be a really good writer.

Big words and strong metaphors are great, but they work better in isolation. Right now you're just smearing them all over the place and it's jamming up like The Three Stooges trying to fit through a door. If you really want to be all impressionist and artsy I'd suggest reading Ted Berrigan, William S. Burroughs and the like: Beats and hippies. You'll love them, and if you pay attention they'll teach you about putting the right metaphor in the right place rather than spraying them around like you're trying to put out a fire.

I'd honestly like it if you hung around the 'dome and submitted a bit. We are not kind to bad stories, but we've managed to take writers worse than you and make something good from them. Your ego will take a pounding, but a writer's gotta develop thick skin somewhere.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Got three folks all with brawl submissions to get in for me by 11:59pm Wednesday Singapore time. That is quite a lot ahead of US time. Up to 12 hours in some places. Check that poo poo before you submit.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

systran posted:

Is my brawl due in just over 12 hours, or do I more like 36 hours?
YOU GOT ABOUT 27 HOURS YOU WEAK-rear end PUNK NUGGET

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
WHAT IS THIS WEAK rear end poo poo I WILL DESTROY YOU.



Yeah sure. Mojo gets the same extension.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
:siren: PUT YOUR BRAWLS IN MY FACE: BIGGEST LOSER EDITION :siren:

Losers and Dishonourable Mentions, check this poo poo out. This post comes with a soundtrack.

Phobia approached me yesterday and asked if he could get involved in a 3-way with RichardGamingo and Leekster. I said no, because those two lovely lads are almost at the point of climax and I don't want to distract them. However, it got me thinking. I've had five folks judge my brawls recently, and haven't done a whole lot of judging myself. By my count, I still owe three more, so I'm taking them all at once. Three brawls, then a three-way final to see which of you losers wants to make something out of himself.



For this, I will need six people. You will need to have received a loss or DM to enter. Once all six are in, I'll pair you up and assign you with a prompt and a deadline. First in, first served.

LOVER BOYS

1) Phobia
2) Hocus Pocus
3) Meinberg
4) dmboogie
5) Pseudoscorpion
6) Leekster

Six in, prompts up when I get home from work.

Come and get it.

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 06:52 on May 8, 2014

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

leekster posted:

I'm in.

Also Muffin I'm up in Leadville for my job right now, I don't have access to my story. Can I get until I get back home today? I'll post anyways, I just had to work a triple shift because the rain had closed the yard down for a couple days.
YOU ARE A WEAKLING AND A COWARD.



Ok small extension. You've got until I wake up tomorrow morning. It is currently 10pm.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
WHO IS THE BIGGEST LOSER?

PHOBIA VS. MEINBERG

As most of the IRC channel know, I love dogs. They are the best animal. They are adorable but also cool. The PoV character in your story is a dog. Not a super-smart dog or a furry dog or some dog that's basically a human with ears and a tail, but an actual dog. The dog helps a bunch of people in some way and is a big hero. Winner is the person who can make me smile the most.

1000 words

Deadline: 11:59pm Thursday 22nd Singapore time.

HOCUS POCUS VS. LEEKSTER

I finally got around to watching season 1 of the X-Files last month and it's pretty ok. I want you to write a murder-mystery involving some arcane element of American folklore e.g. Men In Black, Bigfoot, Numbers Stations.

1000 words

Deadline: 11:59pm Thursday 15th Singapore time.

DMBOOGIE VS. PSEUDOSCORPION

Goon Love Is The Worst Love, and the only people who will go on dates with me are not real. Write a paranormal romance, but with a non-standard paranormal beastie. That means no vampires, no werewolves, no angels: none of the usual poo poo that springs to mind when you hear "paranormal romance". The weirder your love-interest is, the better. Don't be gross tho k?

1000 words

Deadline: 11:59pm Thursday 15th Singapore time.

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 14:38 on May 8, 2014

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
:siren: IN OTHER WORLDS: SYSTRAN VS. MOJO RESULTS :siren:

Well drat, this is actually pretty difficult. I like what both of you wrote and you both screwed up in equally annoying ways that detract from the story but don't ruin it. Crits:

Systran - Striate the Stream

I'm reminded a lot of the Radix Tetrad, which is a mixed blessing: I love the world and the language but it tends to waffle a lot before it gets to the found. The language was nice, the world was convincing and there was a nice little plot arc there. Not as much as I'd like for 1800 words, but not as bad as it could've been. My big issue with yours overall was that you didn't follow the prompt as well as Mojo. It felt like Arc of the Dream meets The Left Hand of Darkness, which are cool books to slam together, but not as original or weird as I'd have liked. Apart from the voluntary hermaphrodite thing (which was coo'), it was basically a bunch of space hippies dropping space acid and sharing lots of hairy free space love.

It's got nice emotional guts though, and it manages to deal with sex in a sci-fi story in a way that's not creepy, which is pretty legit. I've said in the past that being emotional in your stories is something you struggle with, so it's cool to see some solid growth there.

YOUR SIN: NOT WEIRD ENOUGH

Sebmojo - The Smell of Home

It's kind of funny that both of you did hermaphrodite things using slammed-together names. DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT = STEAL FROM URSULA LE GUIN I guess. Despite that, world is very cool, language is gorgeous, and it is indeed the sort of totally-alien place that I was looking for. You followed the prompt better than Systran but I feel like your arc was less fulfilling and you probably could've slowed things down a bit more, both for the sake of clarity and also to give the thing some more emotional guts. The only reaction to FatherMotherSisterBrother we get is fear, so they just seem like kind of a dick and their death doesn't hit as hard as it could.

Furthermore, I have no idea what Utkind or Wolves are. From how they were written both of them felt like different species of human, I guess? The utkind are medieval knights and the wolves are like barbarian dudes or something? Or are they just literal wolves? Super evolved wolves in the same way that our dudes are super evolved lobsters? It would've only taken a sentence's solid physical description for each and by neglecting that, you dropped down the ladder a little. In a normal story we could take for granted that 'wolves' are wolves, but your story is so weird that we can't make those sort of assumptions.

YOUR SIN: NOT CLEAR ENOUGH

---

:rock: :catdrugs: It's close. It's kind of killing me how close it is. They were both good stories with little things letting them down: Systran wrote a better story but Mojo followed the prompt far more successfully. At the end of the day though, we're a storytelling thread, not a "do exactly what the boss says" club, so I'm giving the win by a hair to Systran. :catdrugs: :science:

---

NEXT UP IN BRAWL THEATRE: GAMINGO VS. LEEKSTER

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Having attacked Gamingo with a carving knife, it's only fair that I get just as histrionically angry at Leekster.

quote:

Gone Fishin' - 949

Clark tied the knot over again. This time he threaded it through the hook and the sinker, instead of just the hook. A stupid mistake that a first time fisher would make AM I TO ASSUME CLARK IS A FIRST TIME FISHER?.

Well this is my first time. OH MY GOD I WAS BEING SARCASTIC YOU ARE SUBTLE LIKE A BRICK IN A SOCK.

He hid the guide he watched in between his legs ARE YOU AND GAMINGO SWAPPING HINTS ABOUT HOW TO MAKE CONFUSING SENTENCES? so his son would not see that he needed help. OH FOR gently caress'S SAKE WE GET IT, IF YOU'VE HEARD ABOUT "SHOW DON'T TELL" THIS IS MORE LIKE "SHOW AND TELL".

“You fished on the weekends as a kid Dad?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Papa would drive me out first thing in the morning.”

“Did it take this long to get ready?”

“Not all the time.” WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR DIALOGUE ATTRIBUTIONS DID THEY RUN AWAY LIKE THIS DUDE'S DAD LOL

Clark hoped he tied the knot right and looked up to his son.

“You ready?”

“Yeah!”

Clark pulled his son into him EW and handed him the rod EEEEWWW. He was going through what the website said on how to cast well in his mind WHOA IS THIS GUY A loving WIZARD WHY CAN'T HE DO A SPELL TO DO FISHING BETTER.

“Okay. So hold it out to the side. Now when you bring it forward flick your wrist!” Clark said.

Sam readied his arm and waited for his dad’s go ahead. Clark nodded and Sam’s arm whipped forwards. The bright green lure soared skyward. Clark was just as happy as Sam to see it succeed. Clark knew something was wrong when it didn’t come down. The lure spun through the air and landed on the shore.

“poo poo…”

“Dad!”

“Oh sorry bud,” Clark pulled Sam’s cap down over his eyes.

“Dad.”

“ What?”

“You haven’t fished in a long time have you?”

“Not like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Let me get the rod ready.”

“Did you fish with spears? Like a caveman!” ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO THE WORD 'SAID' OR ARE YOU JUST HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO WRITE DIALOGUE?

“No,” Clark said with a laugh.

Clark turned his focus back to the rod WHOA THIS DUDE IS loving FILTHY HE GIVES NO FUCKS. He was not able to focus because his thoughts of his first time fishing kept getting in the way of things YEAH I HATE THAT. His mother had bought him a special outfit for it too WHOA THIS IS WHOLE FAMILY IS FREAKY. Waders, a pair of shaded glasses, and a wide brim hat complete with lures and rope around the edge FISHIN FOR BITCHES THIS IS HOW I PEACOCK SON.

His father told him about the lake they were going to. How clear and blue it was, and that they were going to catch too many fish. Picking out a lure from the tackle box was an honor. THIS IS NOT BLAND AND LIFELESS AT ALL. IT'S ALMOST GOOD. WHAT THE HELL IS IT DOING HERE. He was stumped on which to pick, until he chose one that was made to look like a minnow. The fish would think it is their friend he thought. IF YOU'RE GOING TO WRITE THOUGHTS YOU SHOULD FORMAT THEM MORE CLEARLY THAN THIS, FUCKKNUCKLE

The day came when Papa woke Clark up to go. He rushed through getting dressed and ran to the car. His dad let him sit next to him today too. The beige truck set off for the country. Clark hardly looked out the window at the sights as they passed. All his effort watched the lure sway and bob in the backseat WAIT IS IT ALREADY ON THE LINE WHO THE gently caress DOES THIS WHY ISN'T IT IN THE BAIT BOX. Dreams of the giant fish he’d catch filled his head.

“Why are we stopping?” Clark asked.

“Gotta stop to get bait.”

“Oh. Can I help?”

“Nah. I’ll be out in a minute.”

The car door slammed and Clark watched his dad walk into the building. He turned around in his seat and looked at the minnow. The glass eye stared back at him. Clark wondered why fish liked the lure so much. Was it the smell? The taste? The longer he looked at it the more he wanted to know why.

He crawled back into the car to get a closer look. He tapped the minnow and watched it swing back and forth. Clark grabbed it and felt a prick :pervert:. He screamed and let go. Blood dripped from the shallow scratch on his hand.

The sight of blood made Clark scramble to get out of the car. He kicked and clawed at the door. Panic set in when he thought he was locked in.

“Dad! Dad!” He wailed.

The latch for the door was finally knocked loose and he bolted out the door WHAT SORT OF CAR DOOR HAS A loving LATCH ON IT DID YOU GET CONFUSED WITH MOJO'S BRAWL AND WRITE AN ALIEN WORLD OR WHAT. He ran headfirst into his dad.

“Dad! The lure bit me!”

Let me see,” And Papa brought up his hand to inspect the damage. “Ouch. I’ve got something to make it feel better though okay?” :pervert:

Papa brought out some ointment and a band aid. Softly he applied the ointment to the cut and stretched the band aid taut across.

“Better?”

Clark shook his head yes meekly.

“Ready to go fishing?”

“No I want to go home.”

“Alright bud,” Papa said and shook his head. “Let’s go home.”

When they got home his mother ran out to greet them

“Did you catch any-” She looked at Clark’s hand. “What is that?”

Clark was about to tell her that he grabbed a hook when Papa cut in.

“Clark had a big one hooked. The rod was snapping back and forth. I thought the boat was going to tip for sure.”

“Okay, what about his hand?”

“I’m getting to that, hold on. So the boat was about to roll over and Clark was still going at this fish. The boat lurched back out of nowhere and this great shadow went above us.” Papa paused for a moment. “The biggest fish I have ever seen jumped over head. It was as big as the boat I think.”

“His hand.” She didn’t have time for the story.

“He cut it against the side of the boat when the line broke. It pushed him hard into the side. The cut is real small.”

His mother rushed him inside. Clark looked back to his father and saw him give Clark a thumbs up as he got the rods out of the car. I HAVE SEEN MORE CONSISTENT PERSPECTIVES ON DEVIANTART

They never went fishing again.

“Dad!” Sam yelled.

“What?”

“I’m cold. What is taking so long?”

“Oh nothing. Just trying to think of how to tie this knot.”

Sam looked away.

“Fishing is stupid dad.”

“You’re right son. Fishing is stupid.” FLOAT LIKE A BUTTERTROLL, STING LIKE ANOTHER TROLL. THIS DIALOGUE IS FLOATING LIKE A CORPSE IN A SWIMMING POOL. USE SOME BLOCKING GOD loving DAMMIT.

:siren: SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICSUCKMYCOCKPRETENTIOUS: RICHARDGAMINGO VS. LEEKSTER RESULTS :siren:


RichardGamingo

You could tell decent stories if you weren't too busy sucking your own cock about how very clever you are, and burying all the important information six-feet deep in terrible metaphors and overwrought dialogue. I honestly had no idea what your story was about until somebody explained it to me. Was there a witch? Two witches? Something about a chase? I thought it was about an old lady on a boat, then there was a storm, then the storm tipped the boat over for no apparently reason. Important plot points need to be clear and the best way to do that is by keeping them simple.

Go read Hemingway and learn something about elegance. You failed horribly at the prompt: you didn't even try at all. I'm not sure you even read it. I'm willing to tolerate a certain amount of flexibility, but I at least need to see how you got from the prompt to your story and I can't see that at all here.

You've got a nice amount of description, but you need to focus more on the useful stuff before you leap onto the weird stuff. Before you dive into the big weird pool, build yourself a decent ladder out of concrete details. Otherwise you'll drown and just like your video games, everybody will be laughing at you.

YOUR SIN: ARROGANCE

Leekster

Man I feel like I've been chewing on powdered sugar and drywall. I had real trouble getting angry, in the same way I can't really get angry at beige carpeting. At least Gamingo had some colour, even if it was a ridiculous mess of all the paint pots that just ended up brown. What little detail there actually is here is saccharine cliched crap. There's a robot dad and a robot son and they're fishing for robot fish in a lake of WD40 while screaming INPUT ERROR FEELINGS FEELINGS FEELINGS at each other in their horrible screeching robot voices.

There's almost no physical description of anything at all. It's just these big screeds of unattributed dialogue. The moments were you do shine are the quiet ones in between but there's so loving few of them. I feel like I've said this a million times in the 'dome, but dialogue is not enough to hang a story off. Unattributed dialogue is particularly bad and you've got so drat much of it. Actions speak louder than words, and the things your people do are far more important than the things your people say.

The story is a little cliche, but if you'd focused more on the little physical movements and interactions between father and son, you'd have made a lot more emotional engagement from the reader and overall a much better story.

You followed the prompt well so have a cookie.

YOUR SIN: BEING BORING

---

:viggo: :vince: I'm willing to give a certain amount of flexibility on the prompt, otherwise Systran woulda been totally hosed, but there's a limit. Had Gamingo written a far superior story he probably could've gotten away with it but his was a muddy, poorly-edited mess. Leekster's was a dull, mechanical stroll through fatherson bonding land that was completely devoid of originality or merit but it was coherent. Dammit Gamingo, I wanted to believe in you but I'm gonna have to give this one to Leekster. :vince: :whip:

---

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 15:28 on May 8, 2014

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

Kaishai posted:

I'm in, and I've brought the gift of Eurovision--specifically my very favorite Eurovision video. (Lyrics here.) Let the LED violin inspire you.
If that's your favourite Eurovision video, you haven't watched this one enough. Watch the whole thing. Every time you think it can't get any funnier, it does.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Yo first round of loserbrawlers you've got like 4 hours what's keepin' ya.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
I have had a crazy busy week you guys don't even know, but I guess 2/3 of those loserbrawls are closed now or something, and you're gonna have to wait until the final pair finish nextweek before I resultpost.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

Fanky Malloons posted:

Postin' so I don't forget that I have been summoned from the dark depths of Starbucks and graduate school to brawl Surreptitious Muffin for the crime of making unforgivably awful puns in IRC. You ratbastard :argh:

Sebmojo is apparently judging, and I demand at least two weeks to submit because I'm all busy and poo poo.
You can't deal with my warboner, lady.

:dong::radcat:

All of the 'dome will rise up beside me, absolutely rock-hard. It will be a revolution of boners. An insErection. You will know us by our call, at dawn on the third day

ock





ock










OCK

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

Fanky Malloons posted:

I hate you so much.
:dong::radcat::respek::black101:

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Loserjudging will be in hopefully Saturday evening REAL PEOPLE time.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
HALTEN DEN ZUG! WO SIND DER LOSERWINNEREN? WIR MUSSEN JETZT AUSFINDEN.



---

BRAWL DEN ERSTE: PHOBIA UND MEINBERG

PHOBIA: Are people in this world Sims or are they massively incompetent or what? What sort of grown-rear end man falls into a swimming pool and immediately starts drowning? This man should not have a toaster in his house, let alone a dog. The fact that he has survived into adulthood is testament that our society has grown too soft and we need to start holding Hunger Games.

Also holy poo poo this was twee and annoying. You tried for 'lovably dumb' and missed by a mile.

MEINBERG: A robotic paint-by-numbers adventure in caveman times! I have certainly never read a story exactly like this before. You are the definition of competent and safe.

Your prose has improved a lot since you started posting here but it's still pretty lifeless and mechanical. Phobia had too much fun with his, but you didn't have enough. Experiment a bit, goddamit. Break the rules some time.

DER WINNERMENSCH: Meinberg. Boring, but better put-together. The ending was cliche, but decently executed. Move onto the next round. Phobia, yerrrrrrrrrOUT.

---

BRAWL DEN ZWITTE: HOCUS POCUS UND LEEKSTER

HOCUS POCUS:
2/3 of this story is setup to robo-horseman (who works ok) but you spend far too long waffling around instead of building tension of actually getting to the loving point. The prose is creative, though hit-and-miss.

LEEKSTER:

quote:

“Yes detective. For the past week that has played at exactly noon,” Police Chief Filkins said. “And five hours after this we find the body of a soldier who was living on base.”

“So how do we know they’re related?” Sergio said.

“Detective. A rouge broadcast fills every channel on the net, public and private. And after that we find bodies. I’m not one for coincidence.” Filkins said, the condescension wasn’t lost on Sergio.
No, that totally seems like a coincidence and this makes DA CHIEF sound like a loving idiot. Everybody in this story is a loving idiot who does really stupid things with little rhyme or reason. Also, it's all dialogue. Oh my god, so much dialogue. Everybody just stands around talking and I guess some violence happens but I kinda glazed out.

DAS UBERFLEIGZUGMANNENGEIST: Hocus Pocus. Structurally weak, but with some moments of promise. Get your pacing down, dammit. Move on to the next round.

---

BRAWL DER DRITTEN: DMBOOGIE UND PSEUDOSCORPION

DMBOOGIE: holy adverbs, Batman! You don't need one on every single verb. The relationship between the lady and the ghost is actually pretty well handled, so kudos there. It's cute, it's competent, it could've really used another round of editing to cut the fat. Also not very original.

PSEUDOSCORPION: EXPOSITION EXPOSITION EXPOSITION INFODUMP. The story is great when you're actually telling it and not blurting our backstory in a drab monotone.

DEISEM BESTERUBERGANGENKUGELSCHRIEBENSCHMETTERLING: this one is actually pretty close, and you both did an ok job. They're mechanically competent, they're fun, they're not paced poorly. At the end of the day, the deciding factor was who was more creative in their use of the prompt, and so it goes to Pseudoscorpion. YerrUP.

---

:siren: FINAL ROUND :siren:

You poor bastards. You should've lost. You should've printed off your story and used it as toilet paper, because you're gonna do the thing that all 'domers dread. You're going to do the thing that guaranteed I was never allowed to judge again, because every time there's a tie everybody goes "oh god no not muffin he's going to do..."

POETRY ROUND, MOTHERFUCKER


This one is gonna be pretty open. There are only two stipulations:

1) it must be a ballad
2) it must be metered

or, in non-poetry words

1) it must tell a story; have a coherent plot arc with a beginning, middle and end
2) no free verse. Iambic Pentameter is probably the easy way out, but I like it a lot so that's ok. Other meters are also acceptable. Limericks are acceptable but they'd better be really good. Please complain that you still don't understand in the thread.

It doesn't have to rhyme, but nor is it forbidden. Except heroic couplets, which are for scrubs.

Meinberg, Hocus Pocus, Pseudoscorpion, get your poetry hats on and write me a drat story. SIE HABEN EINEN WOCHE FUR DIESEN SCHRIVENZINGSITZE! ONE WEEK. 11:59PM NEXT FRIDAY, SINGAPORE TIME. DOITNERDS.

---

AUF WEIDERSEHEN, WEGBIER MUTTERFICKENSEITZE!

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
:siren: KING OF poo poo MOUNTAIN: KING OF THE LOSERS :siren:

PHOBIA, LEEKSTER, DMBOOGIE, do you want to redeem yourself? Do you want to become the not-worst? Well, here's your chance.

Write me a love song. Musical accompaniment is not a requirement: just lyrics. Be careful though, because I'm going to try and sing your poo poo at the end of the week and if it doesn't scan properly, I will end you. It must fit into some vague metrical pattern that's coherent enough to build a tune around.

Song must be about love, must be sincere.

Same deadline as the other dudes.

GETITON.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

systran posted:

you just butchered the gently caress out of the german language
Shuo zhenme, ni sha gua? Ni shi wo men de tong zhr men, jie jie.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
:siren: INTERPROMPT: THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN FANTASTIC :siren:

First, create a genre protagonist in your head. A big, swaggering heroes' journey motherfucker who slings magic spells or cyberguns or whatever the gently caress. Done? Good.

Write a story where they go down to the shop to buy milk, and nothing out of the ordinary happens. Maybe they meet a nice guy and they bond over their mutual love of orange juice or something, I dunno, it's up to you. Genre protagonist in mumblecore setting. Got it? Awesome.

100 words. No signups: just post. Entries open until the next prompt goes up.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

Sitting Here posted:

Muffin is a Butt
92 words

“Jesus, it looks like someone got murdered in here.”

Gabriella finished buckling her sword belt; the blade of Mnythsnare sang quietly in its sheath. She glared at her boyfriend, who was staring in horror at a bloody splotch in the middle of their bedsheets.

“Yeah, so I need some loving tampons. It’s just blood.”

At the corner store, they were out of the super absorbent tampons, so she had to settle for regular. Then she grabbed some taquitos from the hot case, because what the hell.

Mnythsnare sang quietly in its sheath.
I don't hate this.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Did you just write Adventure Time fanfiction?



Congratulations for being the first person ever to lose INTERPROMPT, which has no winners or losers.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
That is a superbly dumb prompt. That is possibly the worst prompt I've ever seen. You are going to get a lot of stories about anime and mining, judging from my GIS results. It's going to be awful.


I guess I'm IN with these stylish motherfuckers

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 02:11 on May 27, 2014

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
You loserbrawlers had better be working hard.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

magnificent7 posted:

I am. Your story (which I must start from) is too good. Sets a very high bar.
1) I wasn't talking to you.
2) no it doesn't. It's probably the worst story I've written for the dome; it's so bad that I went back and wrote a second entry for that week because I hated it so much.
3) I don't like kiss-asses.

Pseudoscorpion posted:

Oh fantastic and powerful Muffin,
Know that before I hit the post button,
I won't fake a sob,
I've got a new job;
My challenge you should probably roughen.

I am here to request an extension,
(as I suffer from some apprehension);
The deadline is soon,
Oh great, wonderful goon,
I hope that this won't cause contention.
See above re kiss-assing, but since you're not the only one to gently caress it up, I suppose I'm going to have to. New deadline is Friday night. I will not clarify that, as you're all working on borrowed time already. If you'd wanted certainty, you should've made the first deadline.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Our three LoserWinner balladeers are in, but where are the Loserloser songwriters?

They are nowhere to be found. I'm going to a party tonight, and if their entries aren't in when I get back, they will all be crowned Lowest of the Losers. The puppies in the pound. The twinkies in the dungheap. Loserlosers, THE END IS NIGH.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

Hocus Pocus posted:

Loserbrawl ballad entry

going over the prompt I realize I have ABABCC which has heroic couplets. Guessing DQ. But here you go all the same.
Heroic Couplets were highly discouraged, but not banned per se. Speaking as a Antipodean-Greek Bogan, you may find mercy yet.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
:siren: I AM BACK AND I DIDN'T SCORE SO I'M MAD AS HELL, LOSERLOSERBRAWL ENTRIES CLOSED :siren:

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
I'm a dumb idiot baby who couldn't write anything this week. I tried. Personally I blame SittingHere, since I'm loving awesome. Also I'm a useless drunk who hates his job and never has time to write any more.

:siren: LoserLoserBrawl will probably have to wait a full week for judgement: I have something special planned there. The LoserWinners on the other hand, have been assessed, and found only somewhat wanting. :siren:

---

HOCUS POCUS: The Ballad of Damian Dimopoulos, Parramatta's Finest

Oh loving hell, seriously? I didn't set a word count because I thought you'd go "oh it's narrative poetry that means I write a full-length story then put extra line-breaks in it right?" Especially since the whole thing is a setup for the dumb pun at the end, it just feels like you're wasting my time. This could've been so much shorter. It is too long. There are too many words, and you're just repeating the same inane poo poo over and over again well past the point of caring. Do you see what I'm doing here?

I remain unimpressed by your use of heroic couplets. I've definitely seen them used worse, but you're not clever enough with them to redeem the choice.

The story is weird but pretty alright bogany I guess. Probably could've used a few more Holdens but in this regard I award is seven mullets and a grubby Metallica tee out of ten.

Verdict: NICELY CHARACTER DRIVEN, TECHNICALLY LESS-THAN-GOOD BUT OK I GUESS, BUT OH MY GOD THAT IS A LOT OF WORDS TO TELL A REALLY SHORT AND SIMPLE STORY HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF EDITING YOU LOSE FOREVER

---

MEINBERG: The Fall of Cara Rok

Best use of meter by miles, and the only person who really understood what a poem was. On the other hand, nothing interesting happens. A bunch of dudes fight I guess but we don't know or care about any of them and it comes out like a Warhammer 40K Battle Report but with some pretty words in it. As Walamor learnt the hard way with his novel, don't start with a battle. We don't know the players, we don't know the stakes, and ultimately we don't give a poo poo.

If it absolutely must be all about fighting, give us somebody to root for. Give us Wee Private Jimmy who's never been in an actual battle before and suddenly really wants to be at home with his wife, or give us Loghen Ninefingers horribly outgunned but going down swinging. Give us people, dammit. Stories are nothing without strong characters, and so I give you the same judgement as last time:

Verdict: TECHNICALLY ACTUALLY QUITE SOLID, BUT REALLY BORING; SHOW ME SOME FLAIR DAMMIT

---

PSEUDOSCORPION: Far to the North

Wow do not start with weird hard-to-read made-up fantasy words like 'Roknulfahr' in your opening line. If you want to ruin a poem in a single word, that's how to do it: it took me three full passes and completely threw the whole meter and flow out. I had to go down the bottom to check the meter you were supposed to be writing in, and if I had to do that, you hosed up bad.

If Meinberg is writing Warhammer 40K, you are writing Dungeons and Dragons. There is no originality or character in here whatsoever: it's a totally rote, cliche fantasy adventure where none of the characters have any personality or motivation whatsoever. They never even get names. If Jeff Vandermeer couldn't pull that off, neither can you.

Verdict: THE BIG MAC OF NARRATIVE POETRY: COMPLETELY DEVOID OF ANYTHING INTERESTING OR ORIGINAL, BUT THE FORMULA WAS JANKY TO BEGIN WITH.

---

The question remains, who is our Champion? I'd say our balladeers are more Conan O' Brien than Conan the Barbarian, but that would imply they know something about writing OR fighting.



In all three cases, I got super bored halfway down the poem and had to go and do something else for a while then come back. I'm genuinely impressed with how you each managed to be totally boring in a different way. We had one with substance but no style, one who was all style but no substance, and one poor bastard who was neither.

Who bored me the least? It was the guy who wrote a solid poem that was far too broad in scope: too removed from the action and those involved to have any real emotional impact. Still, it was a narrative poem and it did pretty well at that. THE WINNER IS


...

MEINBERG.
Take your crown of wilted cabbage stalks and ascend the throne of poo poo mountain, for you are truly the king of the losers.

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 16:17 on Jun 2, 2014

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Ughfuck. The original plan for the LoserLoser judging was that Mojo and I collab and perform the songs that the entrants wrote, then everybody vote on them to see who came out on top. After a batshit insane week at work pushing me back a week, I got home, settled in for the weekend, then prompt undercooked some chicken which had me running back and forth to the shitter for days.

I'm sorry LoserLosers, but I won't be performing your songs. I could delay judgement another week, but honestly I reckon the entrants just wants to get it out of the way. Mojo has knocked together some good poo poo, but I'll leave that to him if he wants he wants to do with that, since I caved on my half. I've just gotta flake on this yet again. You'll just have to settle for a regular judging.




:siren:

SMUG by PHOBIA

So it's like that Shakespeare sonnet where he's all "yo you aint perfect but I love you anyway" except taken waaaaaaay past the point of real-adult-relationship that made the original so poignant. This is basically a diss track. It's an ode to hatefucking. Either that, or it's some smug (lol) attempt to write an "anti-love song", as if there weren't enough of those kicking around at any one time. You did the exact opposite of what the prompt asked.

I dunno if you just got dumped or what bro but this is some overwrought, cliched poo poo. It's not really love either: it's weird desperate codependency. If you're still in a relationship, in the perennial words of E/N: sever. Bitch is clearly not good for you, and the terrible writing she inspires aint worth it.

Diagnosis: craaaaaawling iiiiiiiin my skiiiiiiiiiiiin, thiiiiis is not a looooovesooooooong

THE GIRL AT WORKSTATION NINE by DMBOOGIE

My God, I had a hell of a time trying to fit this to a rhythm. Mojo managed to make a nugget of gold from your bizzaro meter, but he did it by doing more of a spoken-word poetry thing than a song. There's that terrible dead meter and there's no chorus. gently caress's sake why did neither of you do what I asked? Phobia didn't write about love, and you didn't write a song. You can't just write a story and give it linebreaks.

It wasn't a terrible story and I did vibe off human affection between two people, so cookies there.

Diagnosis: the relationship is kinda sweet I guess but Jesus it fails completely and utterly as a song that goes with music.



DOCTOR, THEY'RE CRASHING

OK, OK, I'M CALLING IT:
DMBOOGIE is the winner, PHOBIA is the loser.

:siren:







we out bitches

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
IN.

Can I write fiction about a character I've used elsewhere? I feel like writing a side-piece for my novel, and it fits the prompt pretty fuckin well.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
LET THE FANKIEST MUFFINBRAWL COMMENCE!




Ride the tiger, motherfucker

The beer had too many syllables. One of them was hoff, and the rest ran together in a Teutonic flurry. It tasted like bananas. There was a cute blonde sitting across the table from me: German, a little on the chubby side, hazel eyes filled with intelligence. She'd taken me to the place where all the Germans in Wellington went to drink, then I'd taught her the word 'shithouse' and she'd laughed until her cheeks went red. I was trying to impress her with my alcohol tolerance.

“Why,” I said. I swallowed something bitter, and the rest of the sentence along with it. That seemed like a good place to stop. The floor wanted me; it jostled and bumbled. Why. It was a good word, a solid word, so I hung to it like it was a lamp-post and the whole world was a storm. “Why,” I said, “do I look back on my life every six months, then get angry.”

Smooth.

She laughed, and her eyes twinkled. Terrible taste in men, clearly. “Me too,” she said. Clipped words, but not unkind. “You would think, after twenty-five years, I would've stopped loving poo poo up.”

Another German-ism. Every one of them I've met has cursed like it could call Christ from the grave. Swearing works differently in German, I think. “Ja, Ich auch denk zo weiter,” I said. She didn't correct me. I think she knew I was beyond helping there. She could pound back beer like it was water, but that's about as far as her magic went.

I took another quaff of the beer. Quaffing is like drinking, except less of it ends up in your mouth. Germans like quaffing, right? The rocking floor got more insistent. C'mon pussy, sleep on me. Home is far away and your legs suck. I used to be able to drink more than that. At least, I think so. Memory is strange: it changes every time you check on it. The bad ones can dig into you like fish hooks, pull you into darker places than you ever truly lived. The good ones only get better, like cheese, or wine, or uh … croutons? gently caress off, I don't know food.

She thinks you're really deep bro, hit her with the big guns.

The floor was sneering at me, and my own mind had joined in - two-faced loving traitor that it is. Sometimes I wish I were a beast in the forest, that didn't have to worry about showers or nice shoes or niggling low-level electric anxiety. It's a passing fancy though, because even then I would still remember; I would look back every six months, and get angry.

A waiter glid by, and Miss Germany threw up the V. Claudia, was that it? Claudia the German, who ordered drinks with her hand backwards. Can you handle another round, man? I needed to act fast.

“It's like,” I said, “a tiger.”

I wished I was drinking Tiger, but that's besides the point. I didn't even know you could put fruit in beer before that night, but by that point I knew it very well.

“You're riding on its back,” I said, “and you're like 'wooo I am on a tiger' but then bad things happen and you don't want to be on a tiger any more.”

She tilted her face a little to the side, narrowed only one of her beautiful clever eyes. Had she begun to suspect she was drinking with a complete rear end in a top hat? Quick, panic! Don't panic! Say something clever! You're already saying something clever so forge on ahead brave man!

“But you hang on to the tiger and it keeps running, and you leave the bad things behind. And then you turn around and shout 'hey, gently caress you!' because now you're onto the good things. And then maybe there's more bad things ahead, but you got through the last ones a-okay so why not keep riding?”

She was silent for a long time. Not a sad silence, but the mystified silence of drunks who think they might've just heard something interesting, but their brain is currently off doing other things and isn't quite ready to deal with it.

“That is-” she said, then paused and took a long drink. She put the empty glass down with care, then let out a contented sigh. “That is terrible. That is too many words to describe life. You have too many words, you know that? You should shut the gently caress up sometimes. Life describes itself well enough. All you must do is listen.”

My face fell. She looked baffled, then seemed to catch the sharpness of her words. That happens between languages. Something lost in translation, I guess.

“You are maybe right,” she said, “even if you are shithouse at explaining it.”

She laughed, not unkindly. I laughed too, because she was right. I'd ridden through one terrible analogy and I wasn't dead, and she didn't hate me. We'd ride through more before the night was over. As time turns, your memory gets deeper: great light and shadow painting a chiaroscuro of the soul. You can choose to dwell in the darkness: living in your mistakes until they shake your body to pieces. It's an ugly place, but we've all been there. Or, you can have faith in the future, secure in the knowledge that you will never stop loving poo poo up, but you get better at dealing with it. Hold onto the things that work, and drop the things that don't. The tiger's back is a frightening place, but it's better than dying quiet on the jungle floor.

Every six months, I look back at my life and get angry. This hasn't changed, and it probably never will. All that's different is, I've learned to turn around, shout "gently caress you!", then ride on off into the future.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
FANKY WHERE IS YOUR FIGHT

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Oh look, I got through.

I mentioned this in Kyrena but I figure I'll flagellate myself publically about it as well

Our school has a shortage of teachers right now. We had a new girl show up last week, fumble around a bit, then suddenly stop showing up again. She hasn't called to say she doesn't want the job any more and nobody can seem to get in touch with her. This has completely hosed the system since we'd already integrated her into the timetable and now I've got SUBSTITUTE CLASS SUBSTITUTE CLASS SUBSTITUTE CLASS and my normal writing time is completely blocked out.

I'm requesting a 12-hour extension, so I can get home and knock something together after work tonight. I will take on a mandatory flash-rule if it pleases the judges.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
[EDIT: removed for publishing reasons]

SurreptitiousMuffin fucked around with this message at 03:19 on Dec 4, 2014

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SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

Bad Seafood posted:

Disregard judge ordinance because following instructions is too hard?
Oh god I'm sorry, did I accidentally post in Lady Willikin's knitting circle by mistake? I thought this was the Thunderdome, where we rocked out and didn't give a gently caress. Stop getting so hung up on the rules, and judge each story on its own merits.

Is that a brawl challenge below? I don't even understand it. It's barely English. I guess I'm in once you tell me what the gently caress you're talking about.

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