|
goal: 6 wins in dis thread Year Progress: ├████┼████┼████┼████┼████┼████┼████┼████┼████┼████┼████┼████┤ Wins Progress: ├█████████┼█████████┼█████████┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┤ Status: ABSOLUTE FAILURE crabrock fucked around with this message at 20:19 on Jan 1, 2015 |
#
¿
Dec 31, 2013 09:00
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Oct 9, 2024 07:12 |
|
|
You drop your bag and chase after Gus. Behind you, Officer James trips over your books and faceplants on the floor. You burst from the school doors onto an empty lawn, and grab your bike from the rack. Officer James runs out of the school, but stops his chase as you ride down the street. You race toward town, occasionally glancing over your shoulder. Nobody follows you. The chimes above the door to Don’s Donuts jingle as you walk in. Gus turns around and his eyes widen. He waves you over. “Holy crap, I always figured you for a goody-goody.” “The name’s Jake,” you say, shaking Gus’ hand. “Hi Jake, nice to meet you. Sorry about knocking you over earlier.” “It’s no big deal,” you say, but you’re kind of glad it happened. “You like maple bars?” You nod. “Hey Pops, get Jake here a maple bar.” The man behind the counter smiles and ducks into the donut counter. “Wait, that’s your dad?” you ask. Gus laughs. “Yup, has been for twelve years.” “He doesn’t care that you’re ditching school?” Gus shrugs. “Know he can’t stop it really, figures I might as well be here where at least he knows I’m not off doing something stupid.” Don, Gus’ father, delivers a maple bar and a carton of whole milk to the table. “Nice to meet you Jake,” he says. “A friend of Gus’ is always welcome here. Gus don’t have many friends.” “Shush dad! You’re gonna embarrass me!” You struggle not to gasp. Gus, not having friends? He was the biggest, meanest kid in the whole school. He could have any friend he wanted. Not like you, the weakling that is picked last for kickball and left at the museum on field trips. You shove the maple bar into your mouth so you don’t have to say anything. “My old man’s crazy. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Gus says. “I got plenty of friends.” You finish your donut and Don tells you it’s on the house. You follow Gus around back and he takes a cigarette out of his pocket. It’s bent in the middle, but he straightens it out and rolls it between his fingers. He lights it, takes a long drag, and then coughs. “This is a real strong one,” he says. “I know where to get the real cigarettes. The illegal stuff from Europe.” He coughs again. “Here,” he says, and holds out the cigarette. Do you: Take the cigarette from him. or Remember your grandma hooked up to tubes and breathing through a hole in her throat. crabrock fucked around with this message at 07:46 on Aug 4, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Dec 31, 2013 11:33
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:Surreptitious Muffin, old buddy. I'll judge this one.  Muffin vs sebmojo: Almost Down-Under BrawlWrite a story where a character undergoes a complete transformation. Not just a change of heart at the end of the story, but a slow, irreversible, completely opposite person of who they were at the beginning of the story. Convince me that this person is different. I really need to believe their motivations and understand why they did what they did. The more extreme the switch, the more points you'll get. Word count: 2,000 Don't feel obligated to use all of them, but I didn't want you to be limited by trying to cram what you need to write into a few words. Make me believe this poo poo. Due: Saturday, Jan 11th, 12:00 noon NZDT
|
|
#
¿
Dec 31, 2013 13:16
|
|
|
I'm sorry Roguelike. I'm sorry you wrote a good story and then made a good prompt and now have to judge a shitload of stories. I hope you drink, because you might wanna stock up on your beverage of choice. Record is 32 entries, and you're at 32 signups right now. Some horrible people will flake out because they aren't worthy of the air they breathe, but maybe you'll get another 10 tomorrow!
|
|
#
¿
Jan 3, 2014 07:27
|
|
|
In my defense, I've given out the link to the non-passworded images a few times (although maybe when SH wasn't in the room.) anyway, I've PMed to her so she can fix them at her leisure.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 3, 2014 21:58
|
|
|
first round of crits from last week. Newbies be warned: if you write a terrible story with no point, this might happen to you. Muffin: You spend too much time describing this thing I know is a lawnmower. You don’t need to convince me. I’ll trust that they have no idea what the gently caress it is, and I pretty much expect them to turn it on. You should spend a few of those words on your characters. Fela is just a cardboard cutout “beautiful woman.” You should show me exactly what Bok finds attractive, and what these flowers he needs mean. The middle of your story is weighed down a bit by overly-physical descriptions. Flan is a useless character I know nothing about. Why does Bok insult the religious man so freely? You say that Nuggtugg regularly proclaims thing evil or whatever, but does this annoy Bok or what? You just tell me it as a fact. The blue flowers shooting out the back is really confusing. We pretty much evolved for being able to spot shapes and colors at distance, so it’s hard to suspend my disbelief that he didn’t see the patch of blue flowers until he ran them over. And I only know they’re literal flowers because you writersplained it to me in IRC. Before that, the other judges and I were mucho confused as to what they could be. So if they’re shooting out the back, how exactly does he reach his hand down to collect them and get gobbled up? Don’t most lawn mowers have a safety shut off switch where you let go and it shuts off? Finally, your ending. Why? Bok gets chopped up and the shaman has a one liner. This doesn’t accomplish much. There’s no significance to these actions. No foreshadowing or change. Just things happen to some characters  This story had a lot of plot holes, but relative for the week it was solid. In another week I think it would not have warranted notice, and I think this could have been made much better with some more time and character development. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: Yes, but only because all the other stories already have head wounds. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Inthesto: Your first two paragraphs are boring bickering, and I don’t know what the story is about. Cut and start with “Always stuck in the past.” I don’t think it’s cowardly to be floored/confused/awed by unknown technology. If a dude comes up to me, tells me he controls the weather, and then starts making loud booms, I’d be pretty impressed (if not skeptical). You focus a lot of this character trait, but it doesn’t follow logically. I also didn’t realize that the horses were making the thunder. You didn’t give me any info that Ivan was a trickster or not telling the truth. With so many genre stories, you really must let me in on the joke that Ivan is a cunning strategist engaged in psychological warfare, or it flies right over my head. “Ivan had won many battles through trickery.” would do it. I don’t think running horses create enough of a breeze ahead of them to bend grass. That’s a silly and pointless description. You could say “seemed to” or made it a little more abstract then it’d be good, but right now it’s so matter-of-fact. The ending has no meaning since I never knew they were fighting over who would be chief. In fact, I don’t know their motivations for all this bickering until the very end. So he’s fighting his clanspeople? The domestication of horses and archery isn’t really caveman times. This reads more like a medieval story. And since we didn’t even know that the “technology” was supposed to be domestication (I didn’t realize that horses were a new thing to the world, just thought this guy had no cavalry) it seemed like you dodged the prompt by writing a medieval period piece. Work more communicating your ideas to your readers, and guiding them along with your train of thought. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: No, I heard it has lice. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Roguelike: “prevailing over them all with a splatter” there are two things. Don’t use all. “waiting day and night” how long has this been going on? “always made her feel better” weak “The room suddenly began to shake” -> The room shook Your story is good. I feel like you could lengthen this out quite a bit an explain a few more things, like exactly what this portal is (is it natural? man/god-made?), how long as this been going on, why are these people still coming through after hundreds of years? I assume it’s some sort of “life-raft” or escape. maybe a prison? Why send women and children through. It’s ok not knowing ALL of these answers, but you need to sprinkle just a few more clues, so that even if Urga doesn’t understand, we do. Sort of a nod and wink to us, the modern reader. Just like the silver leather makes us assume they are some sort of 1970’s spacemen, give us a few more clues. I’d also love to read what happens when she gets to the other side, so if you are ever lacking ideas or what to make a sequel, I’d read it. Good job. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: Oh baby, I’d club this story so hard, there’d be more than one rock in my cave tonight. ----------------------------------------------------------- The Leper Colon V:  -------------------------------------------------------------- Purple Prince: Oh poo poo son, you started your story talking about the sun. You done hosed up. DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE UNLEASHED? SPITTLE-FILLED LINE-BY-LINE MODE ENGAGED The sun was gone. gently caress YOU NO IT WASN’T. DON’T LIE TO ME. A dead lightIMPOSSIBLE. HOW THE gently caress CAN A LIGHT BE DEAD? IT IS EITHER LIGHT OR IT ISN’T. PERHAPS YOU MEANT TO SAY “DYING” BUT YOU DIDN’T SAY THAT. YOU SAID DEAD LIGHT. I THINK YOU MEAN DARKNESS filtered from beyond the crest of the hill THIS IS NOT HOW FILTERS WORK. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. THIS IS HOW SHADOWS WORK, AND ALSO WALLS., and Dolon saw glimmers of rising embers. HOW THE gently caress DO YOU SEE A GLIMMER OF EMBER. THAT MAKES NO SENSE. ALSO SENSING VERBS. JUST TELL ME EMBERS ROSE INTO THE SKY AND THEN TELL ME ABOUT YOUR STUPIDLY NAMED CHARACTER. Around him the grass was thick and lush WHAT THE gently caress DOES THIS MEAN? ARE YOU SURE HE ISN’T LOOKING AT PUBES?, and the hums of bees BEES GO TO SLEEP BEFORE SUNSET OR ELSE THEY DIE and songs of birds BIRDS STOP SINGING BEFORE SUNSET. MAYBE YOU ARE THINKING OF SUNRISE? clashedwith the rumbles and cracks OMINOUS SOUNDS COME FROM OVER A RIDGE, ARE OUTDONE BY SIMPLE PEACEFUL SOUNDS OF EVERY DAY LIFE. WHAT A BUNCH OF lovely SOUNDS. from over the ridge WHERE THE WORLD’S SHITTIEST VOLCANO WAS. He gripped his spear tighter. SO YOUR WHOLE OPENING PARAGRAPH OF A <500 WORD STORY IS TRYING TO SET THE MOOD THAT IT IS SUNSET AND THERE IS A VOLCANO IN THE DISTANCE? AND YOU DIDN’T DO THIS IN ONCE SENTENCE WHY? I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER OTHER THAN HE LIKES SQUEEZING LONG HARD OBJECTS. MMMM BABY SQUEEZE IT. It shouldn't have been like this.I KNOW THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING That was why they'd sent him.HOLY poo poo I’M BORED. STOP YANKING MY DICK AND JUST SPIT IT OUT. The Priestess of Rhea LOL SCI FI NAME had fallen ill a week ago BOO FUCKIN’ HOO. THANKS FOR TELLING ME, and would only wake up to scream and shudder LOL. I LIKE THAT SHE AWAKES AND SCREAMS, WHICH IS TERRIFYING, BUT THEN GETS GOOSEBUMPS AND SHAKES A LITTLE. USE A STRONGER WORD, LIKE CONVULSES, IF YOU’RE NOT A SACK OF poo poo. ALSO THIS IS CALLED SHOW AND TELL. YOU TELL ME SHE’S SICK, AND THEN YOU SHOW ME SHE’S SICK. JUST CUT OUT THE TELLING PART YOU IDIOT. . She'd been lucid just long enough to describe the desolation HOW GOD drat CONVENIENT. He scrabbled TRIPLE WORD SCORE MOTHERFUCKER up a steep slope GOOD THING I KNOW HIS ABILITY TO CLIMB HILLS IS UNENCUMBERED BY HIS LONG HARD SPEAR and was panting when he reached the crest of the hill.THIS WHOLE SENTENCE IS WASTED BULLSHIT. I DON’T CARE ABOUT HOW HE CLIMBS A HILL AND BREATHES HEAVILY, UNLESS ASTHMA FEATURES HEAVILY INTO THIS STORY. The wastes extended to the horizon. Where once had stood a brave forest THE ENTS FROM LOTR?, there were now only blackened stumps. In the remains of a glade WAIT I THOUGHT THERE WERE ONLY STUMPS? YOU loving LIED TO ME AGAIN GOD DAMMIT stood the altar of Rhea OH YEAH, THE SCI FI CHICK THAT IS SICK. AND ALSO A GODDESS?, blackened by the fires that had razed the woods. REDUNDANT BORING BULLSHIT The ground was grey with sandy ash, which drifted through the cool air like dead smoke WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND loving DEAD poo poo? JUST SAYING AN INANIMATE OBJECT IS DEAD DOES NOT MAKE YOU A loving POET. STOP DOING THAT UNLESS IT MAKES SENSE.. A gentle breeze threw a handful of ash into his face.I JUST WANT TO GO ON RECORD SAYING THAT THE WIND IS A JERK, AND ALSO THAT I WISH IT WAS YOUR FACE INSTEAD He choked on it and blinked back the tears. HAHA. WHAT A CRYBABY For a moment Dolon was paralysed. FOR REALS? poo poo HIS FACE IS REAL SENSITIVE Then he scrambled down toward the altar. HAHA. HE CLIMBED THAT HILL FOR loving NOTHING. As he entered the ring of trees, he heard a crunch WEAK WORD CHOICE, POINTLESS SENSING VERB like someone treading on a twig THIS MAY BE THE WORLDS SHITTIEST SIMILE. He turned toward the sound, but there was nothing there. The altar was split. LIKE, THIS HAPPENED JUST NOW AND WAS THE CAUSE OF THE SOUND? OR IT’S BEEN LIKE THAT. WHO THE gently caress KNOWS. A long scar ran across it and extended down deep into the earth. HOW DOES HE KNOW THIS? The stench of decay mingled with the smell of burnt embers. WHY? WHAT THE gently caress DOES THIS SYMBOLIZE? DID IT ALWAYS STINK? OR IS THE STINK FROM THE CRACK? WHAT THE gently caress IS THE POINT OF THIS ALTER? WHY IS HE GUARDING IT? I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO loving IDEA WHY THIS STORY IS HAPPENING. He gazed at the crack LOL. THIS SOUNDS STUPID. and tried to blink back the tears.GOD, HE’S STILL CRYING? Then he saw it.STOP TELLING ME WHAT HE SAW AND SMELT AND HEARD AND RAN UP From underneath the altar oozed a black substance. THAT’S PROBABLY WHERE THE FART SMELL IS COMING FROM. It gleamed, lovely WORD CHOICE and seemed to crawl away from his stare SO IN REALITY IT JUST SAT THERE AND DID NOTHING WHILE MR. BORING STARTED AT IT. GREAT. . He bent down and dipped one finger in it. OH HEY THIS MYSTERIOUS BLACK OOZE THAT SMELLS LIKE poo poo IS LEAKING OUT OF THIS IMPORTANT ALTAR WHILE OMINOUS BOOMS COME FROM OVER THE RIDGE AND APPARENTLY ALSO THERE ARE BEES HUMMING IN A WASTELAND WITH NO FLOWERS I SHOULD PROBABLY STICK MY FINGER IN IT The pain was unbearable. I LITERALLY FEEL NO SYMPATHY FOR HIM. ALSO SHOW, DON’T TELL. It was everywhere, burning in his flesh, paining his spirit LOL JUST READ THIS OUT LOUD. IMAGINE YOU GO TO THE DOCTOR AND HE SHOWS YOU ONE OF THOSE CHARTS OF “HOW SEVERE IS YOUR PAIN” AND YOU SAY “IT’S PAININ’ MY SPIRIT, DOC!” HE’D PROBABLY DIAGNOSE YOU WITH STUPID AND THEN DIE OF LAUGHTER.. For a moment he understood how the Priestess felt.WHAT? HOW? HOW THE gently caress DOES HE EVEN KNOW HER? WHAT THE gently caress. WAIT, IS SHE JUST LAYING ON THE ALTER ALL SICK AND HE’S RUNNING UP HILLS AND TOUCHING THE POOP WATER? THIS GUY IS THE WORST GUARD EVER. He fell, gasping, onto the ashen earth DUDE I GOT IT, IT’S loving ASHY AND THERE WAS A FIRE. MOVE THE gently caress ON– just as he heard another crunch LOL WITH YOU AND YOUR GOD drat CRUNCHING. . This time he couldn't move. OH. HOW EXCITING. A TOTALLY PASSIVE CHARACTER. HE JUST LAYS THERE AND STUFF HAPPENS TO HIM. THIS IS HOW YOU WRITE A GOOD STORY. I WAS BEING SARCASTIC IN CASE YOU COULDN’T TELL. He was hoisted into the air. OH IT’S HIS BAR MITZVAH, SWEET. A strong arm yanked him around IT’S TOTALLY RELEVANT HOW STRONG THE ARM IS THAT WHIPS HIM AROUND. THAT’S SARCASM AGAIN, IN CASE YOU’RE DENSE, and he stared into a face that was not a face. WAS IT ALSO A BUTT THAT WASN’T A BUTT AND A TRACTOR THAT WASN’T A TRACTOR? PLEASE TELL ME ALL THE OTHER THINGS IT WASN’T Its flesh glinted like polished stone. SO LIKE, A ROBOT OR A ROCK GOLEM OR SOMETHING?Two great wings protruded on either side of its bearded jaw UH. IT HAS WINGS COMING OUT OF ITS HEAD? WHAT THE gently caress? WHY? and left only narrow slits for its eyes, which glowed with pale blue fire. OH GOOD IT’S ONLY PALE BLUE FIRE. IF IT HAD BEEN BRIGHT RED FIRE OR DULL YELLOW FIRE WE’D BE IN TROUBLE HERE, BUT PALE BLUE FIRE DEFINITELY MEANS SOMETHING TO ME AND ISN’T JUST SOME RANDOM COLOR YOU PICKED He slammed his foot against its chest OH GOOD I GUESS HE ISN’T PARALYZED ANYMORE. IT WAS ONLY TEMPORARY PARALYSIS. SO THE BLACK FART GOOP ONLY EXISTED TO MAKE HIM FALL OVER SO A POORLY DESIGNED WINGHEAD ROBOT COULD SNEAK UP ON HIM AND PICK HIM UP. and grunted with pain as a loud clang rang out. THERE IS LITERALLY NO REASON TO TELL ME THAT A LOUD CLANG RANG OUT. THIS ISN’T A GOD drat MOVIE SCRIPT, IT’S FICTION. DON’T GIVE ME poo poo THAT DOESN’T MATTER. The creature laughed; it almost sounded like a man. WHY IS IT LAUGHING? IS IT TICKLISH? “τιμή,”GOOGLE TRANSLATE TELLS ME THIS MEANS PRICE. DON’T STICK RANDOM rear end WEIRD poo poo THAT NOBODY KNOWS WHAT IT MEANS INTO YOUR STORY, IT MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE A DICK. ALSO, EVEN THOUGH I TRANSLATED IT I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS BECAUSE YOU SUCK DICK AT EXPLAINING THINGS. it said, then lifted him above its head with one arm. “τιμή,” it repeated, IT’S TOTALLY MORE USEFUL THE SECOND TIME as it raised its other arm. LOL. JUST IMAGINING THIS SCENE IN MY HEAD IT LOOKS SO STUPID. A GIANT ROBOT WITH FEATHERS ON ITS HEAD IS STANDING WITH A DUDE LIFTED ABOVE HIS HEAD AN HIS OTHER ARM IN THE AIR DOING NOTHING, LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO DIVE INTO THE SHALLOW END OF THE POOL A bulge protruded from its wrist, HIS WRIST GOT A BONER? and inside a small cavity glowed that same blue light. WHY DID HE HAVE TO LIFT HIM OVER HIS HEAD TO DO THIS. WHY NOT JUST WALK UP TO HIM WHEN HE WAS PARALYZED ON THE GROUND AND SHOOT HIM IN HIS STUPID FACE WITH THE GOD drat LASER? Then the fire came and Dolon thought no more. THANK GOD. ----------- Purple Prince…. your story… it had no point. Like, none at all. Why did you write this? A dude stands around and gets scared. some chick is sick and crazy. the dude hears some crunching, and then an alter shits out some strange liquid. he touches it, and then a robot comes and kills him. Why should I care? You’ve told me nothing of their motivations, the stakes, their background or culture. Did Dolan even want to live or was he happy to matyr himself for the princess? did his death save her, or was the robot from a race of evil robots hell bent on killing the princess. who the gently caress knows. I don’t think you know either, which is the worst thing a writer can do, write for no reason and without knowing what he’s writing about. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: gently caress no! It is a mentally ill child, and I’m not a god-damned pervert! -------------------------------------------------------- Obliterati: Your story is weird. It’s filled with sciencey terms, which I think maybe is the sci-fi part of your story. If I’m correct, then it’s clever, but you didn’t pull it off well. Right now it just reads like some cavemen using words they would have absolutely no context for. Science is a man-made invention, a process with steps. Those words and ideas do not mean much in the absence of this. What’s with all the random caps? Are these significant? Because it seems like you just did it for random nouns. You have a story with three people talking and no dialogue attributions. I am confused who is talking some of the time. like this: “No, not different. Is all Progress. Progress bring well more Progress. This established precept. Here is another Progress.” He waved the branch I have no idea who he is because there is no name attached. You really need to watch out for this stuff. It’s clear in your head but not mine. It makes me do work, and that makes me angry and more likely to stop reading. This is the second story with “a low rumble” coming from somewhere offscreen. “He let the smaller ones pass. They were too fast for us anyway.” Who? This would be better with “We let the smaller ones pass.” “big beasts” - how big? elephants? deer? dinosaurs? I’m a little confused by your story. He lit the forest on fire? And he had it timed perfectly so that the fire would burn in a certain direction and all the animals would come out at once? Since there are big beasts, that means they probably have a large roaming area, and since there were lots, it sounds like he burned down a huge forest very quickly. But we don't’ know how. Too much weird poo poo going on this story. Too many ideas for one <500 word story. Shoulda stuck with the invention of science, and not shoved other inventions in as well. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: No, it reminds me of my sister. --------------------------------------------------------- No Longer Flaky: Uh I don’t want to crit this one because I hated it so much, but let me try to muster up a few words of advice. “dying ululations” put down your thesaurus. this word doesn’t work here. “The sun was just starting to peek “ you’re lucky PP wore out my spittle, or you’d be getting it right now. “its bright rays shocked Grugs eyes” show don’t tell. ““All right, all right, fine. I’m getting up. “ lots of pointless dialogue that doesn’t do anything other than waste time/space. Stop writing “natural” dialogue and write interesting dialogue instead. more: “Sure,” “Wow,” “Yeah” “What, what is it?” “A- a- a- tiger.” “What? No- but- well.” “Wow,” I don’t understand the point of your story. Some guys poo poo talk women and then the woman played a prank on him? Is this supposed to prove that women are equal to men? Because it’s not really comparable. Does this change his views about women? I won’t even get started on the “candid camera” plot line, because that is just unfiltered stupid. This story is very bad. It was very easy to pick it for loser. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: No, because I respect stories and believe they have the right to say yes. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tyrannosaurus: Your story maybe could have been good. It’s near the top of my “I didn’t like it” pile, which is better than a lot of the other stories this week. This story tried to straddle the line between serious and funny. You did the funny parts better than the serious, but the serious stuff weighed it down and made it drag. There was some stuff in the beginning about tenfingers that i didn’t care about, the stuff about the affair. Didn’t seem to matter to the overall plot of “oh poo poo i hope i don’t get sacrificed because of this stupid religion.” At the end of the story I’m not sure how things are going to go. Was the spaceship killing them out of ‘self-defense’ because they were spearing it? because they hate violence? because they were protecting crooknose? because they were going to kill all of them anyway? You should give me a little hint of the motivations behind the flying saucer’s reason for being there. Overall I like your writing style and enjoy reading your stuff. You have some macro problems but you’re doing decently for ‘dome standards and hope you continue. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: Yeah, I’d club it, but I’d be ashamed in the morning and try to drag it back out. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fumblemouse: Another top-of-the-middle story. Your biggest problem here is it’s really hard to tell exactly what the cavemen are hearing, and what is unintelligible to them, how the [asides] are coming across (are they audible?). I get some of the names/races mixed up and I’m not really sure what is happening. I get it’s a first contact, but it’s all so muddled and not easy to follow. The ending made me smirk, but there wasn’t enough build up to the blow ups. There wasn’t really any indication that that would happen. No talk of prophecy or doom or violence or past situations. Just deus ex boxina. Meh. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: Maybe. If I was drunk or really lonely, but with no pressing reason I’d probably just go back to my cave and club myself.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 5, 2014 03:45
|
|
|
Last Words 1108 words http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?story=1380&title=Last+Words crabrock fucked around with this message at 17:00 on Jan 13, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 5, 2014 17:31
|
|
|
JuniperCake posted:(Missed the deadline. Guess dems the breaks.) A disqualification is better than a failure to submit in TD. Also you can still lose for a DQ (but not win) so it's really putting your neck out there, which is admirable.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 6, 2014 06:08
|
|
|
Feste, when you first posted your story I figured it probably wouldn't go well. You've only failed if you give up now. Stay in the 'dome and fix your mistakes. That's what you're here for, right? I've gone through your story and made several suggestions, asked questions you should answer (through storytelling), and noted place you could improve on. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CsMJtySTDGfij0O8onstd9oAVBmD7SJ1W42xE7C946w/edit?usp=sharing This took a lot of time, and I'm doing it to help you.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 7, 2014 08:12
|
|
|
magnificent7 posted:The toy's robotic arm. http://lmgtfy.com/?q=how+to+use+it%27s
|
|
#
¿
Jan 7, 2014 19:44
|
|
|
Still using the free version of Wordpad?
|
|
#
¿
Jan 9, 2014 18:53
|
|
|
You take the cigarette that Gus offers you and hold it up to your lips. It smells sweet and sticky, and reminds you of times at your grandma’s house when you were little. She always had freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies for you. The smell makes you miss her. You press your lips against the cigarette and suck the smoke into your mouth. You store it in your cheeks like a delinquent chipmunk, not sure of how long you’re supposed to hold it in. Gus laughs. “You gotta breathe it in, man.” He smacks you on the back and you take a giant gulp of air along with the cigarette smoke. You can’t breath; there is fire in your lungs. You fall to your knees and start coughing. It feels like you will never stop. You wheeze and gasp for air, and Gus hands you a bottle of water. The water cools the back of your throat, and you wipe away the tears with your sleeve. Gus takes the cigarette back from you and takes another deep drag. You stand up, but your knees wobble beneath you. A strong hand grabs the back of your shirt, and you see Gus’ eyes go wide. “Caught you little brats,” says Officer James. “Put an APB out on your stupid bike.” Gus drops the cigarette, and you’re both dragged back to school by the cop. You and Gus are suspended for the rest of the day, and you dad has to take off work to pick you up. Friday You don’t eat anything for breakfast; your stomach is still upset. You spent all last night throwing up. You’re not sure if it was because of the cigarette, or getting grounded for a month. You head to Don’s before school to pick up your bike, which is still chained to the parking meter outside. Inside, you see Gus sitting at a table working on his homework. The door chimes as you walk in, and Gus looks up. “Maple bar?” You shake your head and sit across from him. “Stomach hurts.” “Yeah, I remember my first cigarette. Didn’t eat for days.” Don comes out from the back and waves to you. “Hi Jake. Hope your parents didn’t give you too rough of a time.” “Got grounded for a month,” you say. “Ouch.” He disappears into the back from whence he came. “Your dad is so cool,” you tell Gus. “He’s alright, but if I don’t come to the shop I never see him. Your dad come to your football games?” You nod. “Sounds nice,” says Gus. “Mine was always here. I don’t like football anyway.” “Do you want me to let you work on your homework?” Gus looks at his paper. “This? Nah, it’s poo poo anyway. I didn’t even read the book. We should get going, the Cop said if I ditch even one more time I’ll get held back again.” You and Gus walk to school. Along the way Molly’s bus passes you. You look through the windows hoping to spot her, and see her reading a book. Your heart skips a beat. Gus notices. “I wish a girl would look at me the way you just looked at that bus,” says Gus with a chuckle. “That’s Molly’s bus.” You realize what you just blurted out, and stop walking. “Uh, I mean…” Gus perks up. “Oh no, you like Molly! It was you!” He jabs you in the ribs. “You’re the mystery Valentine boy!” “Stop!” “Ha ha, I’m just messing with you. I won’t tell anybody.” You feel your cheeks getting warm and start walking again. “She’s pretty. Does she like you back?” “I have no idea,” you say. “I don’t even know if she knows I’m alive.” “You have to ask her to the dance!” “I want to.” “What’s stopping you?” asks Gus. “What if she says no?” “So what?” “Everybody will laugh at me.” Gus smacks his fist into his open palm. “If anybody laughs at you I’ll clobber ‘em.” “I guess…” “You have to ask her today!” “Okay.” You get to school and say goodbye to Gus. You take your seat at the back of the classroom. Nobody asks where you were yesterday, or even seems to notice that you were gone. Or that you are here. You look over at the hamster. It’s cage stinks especially bad today. You stare into space, rehearsing your introduction to Molly. The bell rings for lunch. You grab your lukewarm beans and stale taco shell from the lunch line and head outside to the picnic tables. Your stomach grumbles for food, but the “taco” doesn’t seem appetizing. You spot Molly sitting on the grass reading her book, eating a PB&J she brought from home. Her friends are still in line, and you realize this is your chance. Your stomach growls audibly. It sounds like a fart. Do you Risk talking to Molly on the empty stomach, hoping she doesn’t hear your inside farts or Scarf the taco to appease the demon living in your bowels crabrock fucked around with this message at 07:58 on Aug 4, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 10, 2014 05:19
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:Nz daily time? You've been away too long. We are all Americans now and live our lives to the rhythm of their endless freeways. Look at me trying to be accommodating.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 11, 2014 02:01
|
|
|
i'm using one of those sweet sweet 250 slots for you verbose fuckers neverstop 222 words http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?story=1426&title=neverstop crabrock fucked around with this message at 19:47 on Jan 14, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 12, 2014 08:30
|
|
|
DreadNite posted:Oh my. That's quite a mouthful. Don't worry baby, you can take it all. If you have trouble, just imagine i put a few booms in there, and also try to suppress that gag reflex
|
|
#
¿
Jan 12, 2014 17:47
|
|
|
For those of you who do these types of things: https://twitter.com/ThunderdomeSA the archive is set to update it when certain info is input, so if you don't want to religiously check the thread you can watch that for when the results/prompt are posted.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 13, 2014 06:25
|
|
|
Finishing crits from 2 weeks ago, because late is better than never? JuniperCake: I think maybe you don’t know what worms look like. “nothing I had ever heard before” tells me nothing, and is a cop out. “Clad in mud[...] Their skin was filthy” show and tell. Your first two paragraphs are just exposition out the rear end. It’s really boring. Don’t tell me all about a world I don’t care about yet. You gotta earn that poo poo. Then you have completely cardboard cutout characters. An old man beggar, and some greedy jerk who is a sociopath and just kind of does stuff without any rationale other than “WE DID THIS STUFF SO SUCK IT.” Lastly, this doesn’t seem like cavemen at all. It seems like ancient greece or something. There are large armies with formations. There is scorched earth, and farming. There is advanced language. All of this points to a much more advanced society than we were looking for. You were up for a DM, but narrowly avoided it. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: Sorry, I don’t swing that way. Sitting Here: You tried to get a little too creative with the prompt and went with a story of spacemen and then at the very end you throw some cavemen in there. This didn’t work for me. I think you’re a competent enough writer that I don’t need to comment on your writing skillz, but I didn’t really like the story. Just too much stuff happening in 500 words. I do like bits of it, but I feel like a lot of it is re-treading old ground in terms of “stories I’ve felt I’ve read before.” I do like the part where the people won’t stop loving though. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: No, but I’d take it back to my cave and probe it for “science.” sebmojo: Your pun-chline depends on a pronunciation of Dan-Knug that I think is a bit of a stretch. I was reading it with a silent ‘K.’ I like little things about your story: “his favourite rock”, “loving stupid idiot fuckhead,” but there are also things I don’t like, such as “Then halfway up the slope disaster struck” (telling), the sky boulder that seems to stay in the sky way too long, and the whole colour scene was a little forced. At least you followed the prompt though. Would I hit this story over the head with a club and drag it back to my cave: It’ll do.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 13, 2014 07:08
|
|
|
petrol blue posted:This one gets my vote for tastiest meat. We kill this one last. what the gently caress is this voting thing you're talking about?
|
|
#
¿
Jan 13, 2014 18:40
|
|
|
Sitting Here posted:
Sorry, but this is going to have to wait a tiny bit because Muffin done hosed up. Muffin & sebmojo Both of you submitted stories that were far below your caliber. I can't decide which one is better than the other, because they both have major flaws. Namely that both of your character's transitions kind of suck. It's like looking into a bucket of diarrhea and trying to tease out which poo poo belongs to who. Thus, I am declaring an emergency ROUND 2 of your little brawl so that I may better judge your excrement. Muffin vs. sebmojo round 2: We don't get to go home You were headed to the moon but you overshot. Now you're flying out into space and out of fuel. NASA has just informed you that there's no way for you to get back. You're going to die. Radio just cut out. Make it count. No self-loathing or despair. No aliens. Wordcount: 500 Due: Saturday the 18th sometime. It seems you ignore my time zones anyway so just get it in this weekend you assholes.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 13, 2014 20:25
|
|
|
TheRamblingSoul posted:When should I expect the next prompt for sign ups since this week is closed already? The next prompt will come out when the judges pick a winner. also, are you finally going to get your name off the cowards list? http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?list=cowards (user/pass = thunderdome/thunderdome)
|
|
#
¿
Jan 13, 2014 22:09
|
|
)
|
sebmojo posted:Jim Spaceman’s Adventure and the Fuel This is a good story. I totally felt the tension of being stranded in space. There was a clear goal [get to space woman], a clear obstacle [no fuel], and a clear resolution [they lived happily ever after]. I really like how you handled the sci-fi stuff. It felt very real--like I was watching a Michael Bay summer blockbuster about a spaceman lost in space in his space ship. Kudos. This may be what you needed to push you over the top. SurreptitiousMuffin posted:I worked really hard on this I hope it's ok. I WILL NEVER GET THIS STORY OUT OF MY HEAD. I WILL NEVER FEEL NORMAL AGAIN. I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO OBSERVE A CHILD LAUGHING AND FEEL JOY. MY WIFE’S EYES LOOK DEAD AND HOLLOW INSIDE. SHE CAN SEE THE MONSTER YOU HAVE TURNED ME INTO. SHE KNOWS THAT THERE IS SOMETHING IRREVERSIBLY CHANGED IN MY SOUL. MY CONSCIOUSNESS IS DOG poo poo. MY PARENTS JUST CALLED AND I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO SPEAK: MY VERY ESSENCE REEKS OF FAILURE AND DECAY. THEY HAVE WRITTEN ME OUT OF THEIR WILL. THERE IS NO GOING BACK TO A TIME BEFORE HAVING READ YOUR HORRIBLE ODE TO HUFFING RAT POISON OFF A DIVE BAR TOILET. WITH ALL THE DRILLS IN THE WORLD I COULDN’T TREPAN MY SKULL ENOUGH TIMES. I’D HAVE TO REMOVE MY ENTIRE FRONTAL CORTEX WITH A RUSTY SPOON UNTIL I WAS NOTHING BUT A WRITHING PILE OF CORPULENCE ON THE FLOOR TO REGAIN MY DIGNITY. I SAY THIS, A MAN WHO HAS MASTURBATED TO TUBGIRL, IN PUBLIC. THIS IS THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED, AND I’M HAPPY I LIVE IN A COUNTRY WHERE I CAN EXERCISE MY RIGHT TO OWN A FIREARM, BECAUSE RIGHT NOW IT’S THE ONLY THING THAT GIVES ME SOLACE. I DON’T EVEN CARE IF MY SPIRIT IS TOO ROTTEN TO GET INTO HEAVEN. AN ETERNITY OF BURNING IN HELL IS PREFERABLE TO BEING ASSOCIATED WITH YOUR STORY. THE GUN BARREL IS COOL AGAINST MY TEMPLE; I AM SWEATING. I FEEL ILL. I NEED TO BE FREE. judgement post Muffin wins. Will post crits of your other stories later when i am resuscitated. crabrock fucked around with this message at 06:31 on Jan 14, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 14, 2014 06:20
|
|
|
The Wolf-Rider-Sword Industrial Complex 100 words Tiny creatures ran through open plains, pursued by bigger, uglier creatures. Some of the ugly creatures rode wolf-like animals, and some of the ugly creatures had swords. There was a marked overlap between the riders and sword-havers, so much that if one were to draw a Venn diagram it would mostly look like one circle. Which draws into question the very nature of the ugly creature’s society and classicism. Are there whole groups of people totally overlooked to ride wolf-like things because they weren’t born into a sword-wielding household? Oops, the small creatures have escaped across the river now. Welp.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 14, 2014 21:56
|
|
|
You poke at the gelatinized mass of brown and decide that putting that in your body means you probably won’t live to see the end of your grounding, and toss it in the trash. You take a couple of deep breaths, run your fingers through your hair, and shuffle over to Molly. She puts down her book and looks up at you. You stand above her a changed man: ditcher of class, eater of donuts, smoker of cigarettes, befriender of huge boys with hints of mustache. You realize she’s not that scary. “Hi, I’m Jake.” She smiles back. “I know that, silly.” “Oh.” She pats the grass. “Here, sit down.” You sit. “We sat next to each other in kindergarten, don’t you remember?” You think back. There was a girl he sat next to, but he had to be moved after her mom complained that he ate his boogers. Oh no, that was Molly? “I had the biggest crush on you,” she says. “Then one day you moved and then you never talked to me again.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” you say. “The teacher made me move, I didn’t want to.” Her cheeks turn red and she looks down, picking at the grass. “I felt like I was invisible to you. I thought you hated me.” “Hate you? Me? Never! I didn’t realize that was you.” “Gee, that doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.” You flinch at your own idiocy. “I mean, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, and I didn’t realize that you were that girl the teacher made me move away from.” Molly looks up at you. “Do you mean it?” You open your mouth to ask her to the dance when you hear somebody yell “heads!” and look up. Gus comes barreling toward you, looking over his shoulder with his arms outstretched. A football flies over his head and he jumps for it, missing and landing on top of you. “Ow! Gus!” Gus stands up and brushes himself off. “Sorry Jake, didn’t see you there. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” he says with a wink. “In fact you did, I was just about to ask Molly to the dance.” Molly’s friend interrupts just as Molly is about to answer. “I saw that crash, are you alright?” “I’m fine, Shannon,” Molly says. Shannon turns to Gus. “That was a crazy cool fall. You should be a stuntman or something!” Gus looks at you and you give him the stare. “If you think that’s cool, you should see what I can do down a flight of stairs!” he says to Shannon, leading her away from you and Molly. You are alone again, and you smile at her. “So, what do you think? You and me, go to the dance tomorrow and catch each other up on what we’ve been up to since kindergarten?” “Sounds like a date!” Your insides jump up and down. “Ok, but right now I really think we better go stop Gus from doing whatever stupid thing he’s about to do.” Molly grabs your hand. “We better hurry,” she says, pulling you behind her. The End crabrock fucked around with this message at 07:39 on Aug 4, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 14, 2014 23:07
|
|
|
Captain Trips posted:The crit is only a minor complaint, and I understand what you're saying. It's more the high-pressure, sperg-out, DON'T POST IF YOU'RE NOT WRITING nonsense that I'm walking away from. And that stupid brawl that I was entered into against my will. dude wants to leave because we tell him not to post. instead just keeps posting and not leaving. this is awesome.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 15, 2014 05:56
|
|
|
curlingiron posted:WELP. It’s holding her and she jumps away? Into her fate to slay the beast? Sweet fate I guess. It doesn’t seem like it’s really hard to face your fate when it’s good. Why bother making acid blood if it doesn’t faze her? Assoonasitits posted:I SUPPOSE I SHALL HAVE A GO AT THIS. Where is the conflict in this? Nothing can stop the powerful man, so it’s not interesting. Was he saving something or just being a jerk? Your story ends with the whole world breaking, which I’m guessing means the end of the human race. Thanks a lot jerk. Tyrannosaurus posted:You Always Remember Your First both hands on both boobs or one hand for each? details man. also, this is “internet epic” not “odyssey epic” Entenzahn posted:Unyielding first god killing story. where is the conflict in this? a man gets to heaven and tries to kill a god. what is stopping him? the whole story is describing how pretty a place it is. boring. Black Griffon posted:Dark Strings - 99 demons and angels aren’t the same thing, but you seem to use them interchangeably. Why can this guy withstand a nuke? why does a demon have so much potential energy? Why is he killing one with a guitar? why does it matter that it’s a bass guitar, is the guy super boring? Mr_Wolf posted:Depths - 100 words oh cool, adjectives. there is a lot of talk of bellies in this one. it made me hungry. also i hate this. QuoProQuid posted:Heirs of Apollo - 88 words conflict: none. resolution: none. interest: none. this is really boring. No Longer Flaky posted:Life sucks -I don't know how many words. 66 words. holy poo poo your first sentence is overwrought bullshit. It does absolutely nothing for your story. STOP WRITING LIKE THIS. write a simple sentence. Is this basically: “somebody looks up. somebody watches something move. he gets a boner. he is embarrassed, and then he cums his pant. really? you thought that was a good idea because you made it vague and dressed it up in thesaurus words? imma get a newspaper and hit you on the nose JamieTheD posted:Here's a lil' story. you spend your first half talking about some vague guy who kills a lot. the only thing your character does is try to fight him because…. revenge? duty? he’s stupid? I dunno. but he sucks and gets beat up. great story.  Sitting Here posted:(100 words) the middle conflict doesn’t seem real or dangerous enough. never does she seem worried, so I never fear for her. was the world-eater really going to eat the world? why can’t it eat one girl? surely there are sharp things in the world. how big is this thing? why does it hate the world? Kaishai posted:Aurora sweet. this is a good story. SurreptitiousMuffin posted:gently caress you I can enter my own thing. 100 exactly. no conflict in this one. a guy does what he sets out to do. you could at least have his feet slip or something. systran posted:Dance of Fairies - 100 Words again, no setback. everything just happens as it seems like it should. Meinberg posted:EPIC PROMPT how are there people if the sky and earth broke? who are these people? who is the beast. this was called 100 word epic, not 100 word vagueries. Jagermonster posted:Hardyssey and Deepiad thanks for the hard and deep fanfic. but where exactly is the conflict? a dude rides into town and is winning and then is killed by god. real epic. EPIC FAIL LOLALSDK;J God Over Djinn posted:itsy-bitsy epics! Ok. a man did some stuff. so? Echo Cian posted:hi im posting this on a phone version of wordpad i count 100 words but it might be off kthnx a man imagines a roar and plays some music and that makes it rain? was he ever in danger? it just seems like these two things are happening far away from each other and are only connected because you say they are. God Over Djinn posted:I'm entering twice because idgaf. why is it inevitable? and that makes them kill slaves? and then a guy commits suicide?and liked it? this is not epic, it’s just a series of stupid events. petrol blue posted:Crack the Sky - 99 words i’m not really sure why this char killed a god. gotta have motivation for your characters. also things happened how she wanted. no setback. docbeard posted:And now some more of that religious sci-fi that Muffin loves so much. (Sorry I couldn't work in any robot gods.) why are they fighting? i have no idea what’s going on. What are the stakes if they’re already dead? why does everybody hate god? Baudolino posted:Epic Promt. 100 words including title. why is this man so angry? what is he fighting for? where is the setback? it’s just mostly description of a REALLY TOUGH DUDE. SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Beserkgang BONER ATTACK. no setback though. they just set out to die and seems they will. Sitting Here posted:my irl epic oh hey. this has a setup, a conflict, a setback, and a resolution. good job. docbeard posted:48 Words so i’m assuming he died? or did he realize he’d been pranked? you have a lot of setbacks here, i’m guessing that’s where everybody else’s went, right here. but you don’t have a good set up. where is this bomb and why does it matter? who is this guy and what is his motivation for defusing the bomb. he fails, now what? Tyrannosaurus posted:Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus, please. Help me, God, help me. Jesus. this isn’t even really a thing. it’s just a poop joke. that’s cool though. FreudianSlippers posted:Dawn of the Wolf Age uh. some stuff happens. the main character strokes his spear. post your masturbatory allegories somewhere else. tankadillo posted:Doom of the Dinosaurs set up, conflict, set back, and resolution. the resolution sucked, but meh. Mr_Wolf posted:98 words no character motivations, no reason for this stuff to happen. don’t really care at the end. Accretionist posted:KROLF THE BARBARIAN setup, ….no motivation, why did he have to kill the bear? but you do have a setback and resolution, so kudos. crabrock posted:The Wolf-Rider-Sword Industrial Complex this is the best one here. congrats. you can sleep with my wife. Bad Seafood posted:A bite-sized epic. why does this guy gotta… kill something? I dunno. also, no setback. Ur mom. Ihmemies posted:The Mountain of Madness why do you switch from 3rd person to 1st person? there is no motivation here. there is just bad stuff happening to some people. boring. WeLandedOnTheMoon! posted:In digestion you provided some setup and motivation, but then just went off the rails. I don’t really understand what happened. Amused Frog posted:Dead Eye - 89 words motivation, set up, no real setback, lovely resolution. first half is good, second half sucks. Amused Frog posted:Gonna try to do some crits of the short stuff too because I want to make people feel bad. lets be best friends. Paladinus posted:The Last Wish motivation, set up, a set back… no real resolution. you’re 3/4ths there. V for Vegas posted:War 91. setup, motivation, i think you kind of have a setback? but not really. he likes to kill but then he’s a drone pilot or something? but he still likes it? I dunno man. Anathema Device posted:The Last setup… no motivation, no setback, no resolution. this is basically just window dressing. it’s ok, but not 100 word epic Martello posted:Lion of Anathia this is all just dry fantasy porn. no lube. no motivation or setbacks, just some dudes fighting. BORING. Beast Pussy posted:The Devil in the Details 100 words set up, motivation, not really a setback, just a realization, and then a resolution. it’s kinda funny, but you posted way too late. My Winner: Kaishai. 2nd: Sitting Here. Last place: everybody else
|
|
#
¿
Jan 15, 2014 07:35
|
|
|
I will crit 1 person who seb isn't critting. This better not lose me 250 words.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 16, 2014 08:23
|
|
|
Amused Frog posted:I'd rather Seb critted it but I guess you'll have to do. Well if you're gonna be a jerk about it then I'm not going to hold anything back. Amused Frog posted:#23 Um. Your story isn't one. This man stuck in glass is a prop for your narrator to talk to me about numbers of visitors (why?), their future job prospects (why?) and to whine about life in general. It has absolutely no relevance to this other than for the segue of "the critics say..." but you could have done that for almost anything. People think a lot of performance artists are wasting their life. But instead of contrasting that with your narrator's life in a productive way by showing me the similarities or discordance, you just flat out have him go "oh, i guess me too." What exactly does this attendant do besides keep numbers? Does he collect tickets? Money? I have no idea. He's literally just a dude sitting watching another dude and thinking. This does not make for a good story. If you were sitting around a campfire, and somebody said "hey man, I want to tell you some of the things I thought when I was watching this other dude sit and do nothing," you'd probably want to kill yourself. "Oh, by the way, the dude was in glass for 79 years. but that's not important, i wonder what my next job will be?" I also feel very detached from the story, because it's something being told to me, rather than shown to me. That's a whole degree of separation, and furthermore, I don't even feel like this guy is really telling me the truth. He has too many qualifiers that makes me think he doesn't even know wtf is going on in his own life. Stick with third person past tense for most cases, not this first person "let me tell you about a time in my life" crap. People want to be in the story, experience it for themselves. Not be told about something. If you're going to do first person you should be a relay for the reader to experience the world through your eyes, not to tell them a story about somebody else while you think shallow, mundane thoughts. This will lead to your narrator sounding more sure about the story he's telling too. "His dedication to his craft, despite all the pain that was going on outside his box, fascinated all who came to his exhibit." is 10000 times better than "Something about the artist's dedication keeps people fascinated." An unreliable narrator is fun because it's somebody who's super sure about what they're telling you, but they're not telling you the whole truth, and it's up to you to tease apart what is true and what isn't. This "unsure" narrator is frustrating to read, because there's no benefit for me for NOT knowing something or being able to trust you. If you don't know something, don't mention it. Or make an arrogant guess. Pretend you know. The reader will pick up on whether or not the character is full of BS, but to have it be so wishy-washy is just annoying. Formatting: holy wall of words. Man, break up your paragraphs some. You have 8 paragraphs and they progressively get longer and more boring. This means that your story is too heavy on exposition and not enough of exciting action/dialogue. If you find yourself having long paragraphs after each other, go back in and insert some one sentence zingers to really spice poo poo up. Lastly, your economy of words. You could tell this "story" in 500 words easily. I crossed out SOME of these useless qualifiers and what not, but not nearly all of them. Just the really obvious ones. A few editing passes with an eye for cutting will fix these right up. You add a bunch of superfluous stuff that doesn't help your story. What the hell was all that stuff about counting visitors and what not? Why do I care that this is becoming more popular? You didn't take that anywhere. Don't stick stuff in your story just because. If that was supposed to have some point, you failed to land it.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 16, 2014 21:18
|
|
|
Guiness13 posted:Forever (563 words) Your story has three main problems: verisimilitude, overwriting, and pacing. There are a lot of things in your story that are unexplained and hard to swallow. Since I know that this is a "undying" week, I assume that he has to live like that forever? Only these story seems to take place over the course of about 15ish years? There's no rationale for why this guy is kept alive. If he was awake and conscious, he'd be able to move his eyes, and some system of communication would have been established. It's really hard to get into a story when you feel like there are other options the characters aren't exploring. You need to fix this with your writery powers. Stick him in some shithole country where no doctors understand his condition. Make him poor and unable to afford that level of care. Mention his living will. anything to convince me that this guy has no other recourse other than to lay there trapped. You have a daughter that's there every time he wakes up, and then one day not. This is not believable because there would be times before were he woke up alone. Use your writery powers to fix this too. Likewise, a "nurse" that just sits there all day. Your second problem is you just plain overwrite this piece. You try to be deep and wordy and it comes off as laughable. You're not a literary master yet. Stick to simple stories and you'll be able to add that stuff back in later when you know how to do it better. Right now it comes off as a bit pretentious and assumptive. I don't need to hear your philosophical views on death. Similarly, "echoed in my soul" doesn't really mean anything or add anything to the story that couldn't be described in a better way. some of your descriptions are good, and some are bad. Learn to cut out the bad ones. I could tell you were really enamored with your "slideshow of drop-ceiling tiles" idea, but I don't think it strengthened this piece. quote:Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings. Third, your pacing is a little off. This is mostly the story of a guy laying in bed, and trapped. That's cool, and i was hoping somebody would take this route when I saw the prompt. You give a bit of a setup/backstory, and then give him a goal/have a conflict. But there's no real progress toward that goal, and only constant inability to do anything. This isn't exciting. The story then ends with him in the exact same state, without him having changed one bit from the moment he woke up. Do you see why that is frustrating to a writer? Even if he doesn't physically change, you need to have him change emotionally. Have HIM gain hope (progress), convinced he's going to wake up, have tiny setbacks, and then a climax. Even if the climax is his total ruin emotionally and giving up, it'll still be a better story for watching him go through the process.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 16, 2014 22:59
|
|
|
The Bottom of the Barrel 927 words http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?story=1517&title=The+Bottom+of+the+Barrel crabrock fucked around with this message at 01:14 on Jan 22, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 19, 2014 22:27
|
|
|
in with mah babies
|
|
#
¿
Jan 21, 2014 03:44
|
|
|
magnificent7 posted:Please crit the poo poo out of my writing. I want to know why I can't get it right. For what it's worth: I thought your story was decent. Probably your best since the death helper one. You failed to really make me feel the motivation for why the lawyer was doing the killing (that's a huge step to make), but I understood it all and thought that your writing (especially your showing) was much improved. A few times it feels a little over-written in the descriptions and similis, but just barely. The main problem is that your main char doesn't really have a distinct voice. The call over the phone is a little bland and lacking in any punch. Just two dude's talkin. The warden has more character than your main.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 21, 2014 04:20
|
|
|
You realize it’s never smart to do anything on an empty stomach, except maybe swim, and scarf down the “taco.” It lands in your stomach with a thud. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but the rumbling stops and you figure it’s now or never to ask Molly to the dance. You shuffle over to her holding your churning stomach. Halfway to her the quesiness returns, but further south. You stop, and don’t know whether to proceed or run away. Unexpectedly Molly looks up at you. She sets her book on the grass and tilts her head. “Jake?” Trapped. You have no choice but to go talk to her. You go over to her and try not to wince. “Oh, Hi Molly.” “Are you ok?” “Yeah, I think so. Just feel a little sick after eating the school lunch.” She covers her mouth. “Oh no, you didn’t eat the taco did you?” “Yeah.” “That’s why I always bring my lunch from home,” she says, holding up a PB&J. “I’m Molly by the way.” “Huh? Oh, uh, hi.” Your head swims and you try to focus on not making GBS threads yourself. Molly’s words are distant and confusing. “Do you remember me?” she asks. “Of course, you’re in my class,” you say, but your mind is racing with ways to excuse yourself and head to the nearest bathroom. “You don’t look so good,” she says. “Do you want me to get the school nurse?” “No, no, I’ll be fine,” you lie. “I think I’m going to go sit down though.” “Yeah, that sounds like it might be good.” You’re about to turn to leave when you hear somebody yell “heads!” You look up to see Gus running straight toward you. You realize too late that he doesn’t see you, instead he’s looking over his shoulder at a flying football, and he runs into you. Not only does he hit you, but his arms wrap around you as you both fall to the ground, and he lands on top of you, his bony hip pushing into your stomach. You hit the ground and suddenly don’t feel bad anymore. The pain is gone and you feel relaxed. You figure the fright of Gus’ tackle must have made you forget about your nervousness in asking Molly to the dance. You sit up, ready to thank Gus when you feel the wetness in your pants. Molly’s friend runs over from the lunch line. “I saw that crash, are you alright?” “I”m fine,” says Molly. Shannon looks over at you and scrunches her nose. “Oh my god, what is that smell?” Gus jumps up and backs away slowly. “Oh man, I’m so sorry. Oh poo poo.” Molly screams. “He crapped his pants!” Shannon laughs and points at you. “You’re gross!” she yells. “You’re a disgusting boy. You’re filthy!” Out of nowhere, Gus lands a solid blow with his fist against Shannon’s face. She falls to the ground and he helps you up for the second time in as many days. “Told you I’d clobber anybody that made fun of you.” “Let’s just get out of here.” You and Gus run for the fence away from the school. You look back one last time to see Molly crying and Shannon on the ground. “I don’t like her that much anyway,” you say. You see Officer James running across the field, and you and Gus run through the gate, not knowing where to go, but knowing you can never show your face in that school again. The End crabrock fucked around with this message at 07:40 on Aug 4, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 23, 2014 05:41
|
|
|
Based off the story of Mary Toft. The Sooterkin Affair 896 words http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?story=1554&title=The+Sooterkin+Affair crabrock fucked around with this message at 18:07 on Jan 28, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 26, 2014 17:06
|
|
|
Consequences 150 words Chester was making his rounds as hall monitor when he espied two kids in black clothing dip into the restroom. He chased after them and opened the door onto the ritualistic rolling of a D20. “Yo, you just messed up my roll.” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I thought maybe you were using drugs. What sort of tomfoolery is this?” The kid with a dragon shirt snorted. “Dungeons and Dragons. It’s a game. The best game.” “I have not heard of this leisure-time activity.” “Well why don’t you join us on this mission to kill the dragon. I can lend you a sword.” Chester tugged at the neck of his sweatervest. He should run back and tell the teacher. But he’d never slayed a dragon before. “Ok, just one quick jaunt shouldn’t do any harm.” After school, Chester went into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and murdered his parents. Shortcuts 150 words Javier knew Ned stole the answers to the algebra test and used them to get the highest marks. Javier’s mother assured him that fate would catch up. Ned landed a full-ride scholarship while Javier had to work the night shift as a janitor. Everybody knew Ned paid for his essays online. Ned landed a job as a bank manager right out of college and bought a condo while Javier lived at home to pay off his student loans. Sometimes Javier would be jealous, but he’d remember his mother's words. Ned was high on cocaine, getting sucked off by a model, and racing down the street in his brand new convertible when he struck Javier’s mother and killed her. He got 150 hours of community service. When a thick envelope from Ned arrived, Javier thought maybe it was the apology he’d been waiting for. It was a notice of foreclosure. crabrock fucked around with this message at 21:32 on Jan 27, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 27, 2014 21:07
|
|
|
Martello posted:Shameful edit I edited the second story in rather than double post so :P also, in with the 1990s, because if Flaky is doing it, it's probably a good idea.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 28, 2014 17:59
|
|
|
I's got poo poo to do this week, so I'm pasting in my story early. Triumphant story from the 1990s I am the Phoenix 572 words http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?story=1577 crabrock fucked around with this message at 19:34 on Feb 19, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Jan 31, 2014 05:25
|
|
|
Viking Party 246 words “Viking? Party of…” The hostess turned her pad sideways. “Party of eight?” A mild-mannered English family stood. A lanky fellow who shook with fear like a chihuahua, and a short, round lady who was somehow wearing three separate sweaters. And then the kids: three boys, three girls, all mashed up with genetics that favored nobody. The hostess greeted them with a smile. “Good evening Mr. Viking.” The dad pushed up his glasses. “Did you say ‘V’iking? Oh dear, no, we’re--” “PILLAGED!” Shouted a burly man wearing a plethora of animal skins. He shoved dad to the floor and threw mom over his shoulder. A stream of men clad in furs and spikes flowed into the restaurant behind him. “Bring us a round of your finest mead-lite!” Still more men flooded the restaurant until they hung out the windows. The waitresses scrambled to keep the drinks flowing amid all the shoulder slinging. Finally the merriment stopped, and a lone manager approached the table and laid a bill down in front of the man he presumed to be their leader. The manager took a few steps back and watched his toes. “Whenever you’re ready, sir.” The Viking (with the English woman over his shoulder) opened the bill and threw it to the ground. “What is this 18%?” “Oh yes, it is Sizzler policy to charge a gratuity on any party over--” “A forced tip?” The Viking stood up and drew his axe, burying it into the table. “Attack!”
|
|
#
¿
Feb 4, 2014 00:06
|
|
|
ReptileChillock posted:You failed to capture the zeitgeist of the times. Do you even remember the 90s bro?
|
|
#
¿
Feb 4, 2014 18:33
|
|
|
Chairchucker posted:nuinely just does not understand the concept of humo drat. That was ice cold (and hilarious).
|
|
#
¿
Feb 6, 2014 15:08
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Oct 9, 2024 07:12 |
|
|
You watch Officer James chase Gus down the hallway and hope he catches him. The jerk messed up your opportunity to ask Molly to the dance. You enter the classroom and take your seat. You look over at the hampster and it seems to look back at you with disgust. Like you’re the stinky one. Then again, your armpits are kind of sweaty. You take a whiff and reel. It might be best to keep your arms down. You tuck them tight, burying your elbows into your ribs. The teacher works problems and calls to the class for answers. For once, you know them. You’d love to raise your hand and answer them, but are afraid of the stench escaping. It wouldn’t impress Molly much if you answered correctly but caused the room to be evacuated because of the stink. You keep your hand and head down. You doodle on your paper, thinking of the best time to approach Molly and ask her. “...Jake. Jake. Earth to Jake.” You come back to reality. The teacher is looking back at you. “Hi, nice of you to join us. Officer James is here to talk to you.” One of the boys says “oooooo” and the others laugh. You get out of your seat and hope you don’t look too much like a penguin with your arms clamped to your side. You step out into the hall with the officer. “I saw you talking to Gus earlier. You two friends now?” You shake your head. “No sir, he just was helping me up after he knocked me over.” “Helping you up? That little punk wouldn’t help a fly, much less you.” “He did sir. He knocked me over and said he was sorry. Did you catch him?” The officer shrugged. “Not yet. But I will. Somebody will squeal.” He looks off into the distance, and then suddenly back to you. “Hey, you don’t happen to know where here went, do you?” You think about all the clobbering that will be inflicted upon you should you give him up, and shake your head. “Ok, then get back to class. But if you remember something he said, you come find me. Two more strikes and he’s suspended for the rest of the year, and will be repeating this year again.” You go back into class and put your head down on the desk. The teacher never calls on you. Sometimes, you think she’s forgotten you’re even there. You think about Gus, and how he’s probably sitting at Don’s Donuts, eating an old fashioned or eclair. Or, god forbid, a chocolate donut with sprinkles. It wasn’t fair that he should get to ruin your day and then have a great day of his own. Maybe you should tell the officer. If what he said was true, it’s not like Gus would be around school much longer to clobber you. Perhaps word would spread that you freed from his tyrannical grip. No more pushing to the front of the water fountain line, no more blazing fast throws in dodge ball, no more looking at the dark shadow over his lip and feeling inadequate at your golden peach fuzz. You’ll be a hero. Gus was a menace, and deserved to pay for his crimes. Do you Go tell the officer where Gus went or Realize that Molly won’t want to go to the dance with somebody with two black eyes crabrock fucked around with this message at 19:29 on Aug 4, 2014 |
|
#
¿
Feb 6, 2014 17:43
|
|