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RichardGamingo
Mar 3, 2014
I know it's dumb to sign my posts, but I can't stop no matter how many times I'm told, because I'm really stupid and I want to make sure that shines through in everything I do and say, forever.

Best Regards,
RG

SOUNDS EASY

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RichardGamingo
Mar 3, 2014
I know it's dumb to sign my posts, but I can't stop no matter how many times I'm told, because I'm really stupid and I want to make sure that shines through in everything I do and say, forever.

Best Regards,
RG

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

YOU GOT ONE WEEK TO FINISH YOUR SYSTRAN BRAWL, PUNK.

In other news


:siren: RICHARDGAMINGO, I'M CALLING YOU OUT. :siren:

Your pretentious, poorly worded bullshit spammed all across CC has driven me to the point of madness. It's almost Lovecraftian how very bad you are. It's like you're a shapeshifter sent to infiltrate a liberal arts college, or the Patron Saint of smug 19 year-olds. You need somewhere to hone your skills, and the 'dome is that place.

Brawl somebody, and I'll judge it.

Since you're not a 'dome regular, I'll lay it out for you:

Somebody else from this thread steps up to word-fight you. You both get given the same prompt and the same deadline, then after that I'll put them out side-by-side and pick the best. Even though my annoyance at you knows no bounds, I promise to judge it fairly and give credit where it's due.

Normally I'd be the one brawling you myself, but that would be like throwing a kitten under a steamroller. I'll submit a story alongside if you really need me to prove my chops, but the person you're brawling should be a volunteer from the thread. For you only, I'm dropping the special "winners brawl only" rule. Hell, I'm reversing it: if you want to fight Rich, you've got to have a loss or DM on your record.

Deadline will be set whenever your opponent steps up, but the prompt is this:

Write something sincere, humble, and featuring no words with greater than 2 syllables. The protagonist must not be you, or your pen-name, or your alter-ego, or anybody that resembles you in any way whatsoever. No formatting tricks, no funny business, no trying to be "clever" and dodge around the rules. Your goals are to stop masturbating all over your thesaurus and to make me give a gently caress.

800 words minimum, 1000 words maximum

You wanted CC's attention brosef, now you've got it. Step up.

800-1000 ugh So many wooooooords to say something that may be captured in a single utterance.

RichardGamingo fucked around with this message at 15:47 on May 1, 2014

RichardGamingo
Mar 3, 2014
I know it's dumb to sign my posts, but I can't stop no matter how many times I'm told, because I'm really stupid and I want to make sure that shines through in everything I do and say, forever.

Best Regards,
RG

Gamingo vs Leekster 800-1000 words 2 syllables max

"Batten down the hatches on the poop! There be a slurry storm up ahead!" Captain Sherlock shouted to the crew on deck. Mary already knew the storm had been set to meet her on this voyage and remained below deck. She was not a crew member anyhow. And whether the ship float or sink did not bother her sense of justice in the least.

The sailing crew closed the hatch Mary was looking up through as the winds picked up. A solid wind pushing the Captain's petticoat 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.

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 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. 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, "All of these waves and my tummy remains settled." 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."
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 moment. He minds himself, "A rain of hail might damage the sails. Hail wrapped up in violent 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."
"Higher waves are on the way." Sherlock turns to deliver 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 degrees. The second gust arrived with out any more power, though the din of the kitchen's pots cascade from cabinet to floor was enough to shake the novice shiphand from his nerves, though no novice be aboard the ship. The winds picked up their beat and began a regular howling about the mast, the ladders, and finally roared upon their own terrible accord.

A third gust carried a wave of twenty-five foot, the fourth, fifth, and sixth wracked the ship in rapid tempo such that they seemed to strike as one. The poopdeck hit a fifty degree angle and Barney went overboard with the metal sheet the sailors were placing over a weak spot above the cargo chamber. 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. The captain, into his chambers. 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 -- 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 and the gushing waters followed his descent.

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.

The tenth gust blew them all down.
----------------------------------
btw sorry I lost

RichardGamingo
Mar 3, 2014
I know it's dumb to sign my posts, but I can't stop no matter how many times I'm told, because I'm really stupid and I want to make sure that shines through in everything I do and say, forever.

Best Regards,
RG

leekster posted:

Last Ride - 836


I enjoyed the read although I am a bit confused a Sue's behavior at the end and all.

RichardGamingo
Mar 3, 2014
I know it's dumb to sign my posts, but I can't stop no matter how many times I'm told, because I'm really stupid and I want to make sure that shines through in everything I do and say, forever.

Best Regards,
RG

Was fun, thanks for the feedback.

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