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  • Locked thread
skwidmonster
Mar 31, 2015

THUNDERDOME LOSER


Zombie Buddy Cop sounds rad AF... But I'll just to see what magic happens

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Entenzahn
Nov 15, 2012

Did you FAIL THUNDERDOME Entenzahn? Don't worry, here's an example on how to write!

crabrock posted:

I got a boner last week, but it wasn't related to any stories. Just thought I'd keep everybody updated.

your courageous battle against erectile dysfunction is an inspiration to all of us

Obliterati
Nov 13, 2012

Ask me about being the most Magnificent Bastard in EU4 Multiplayer.

In.

Kaiju15
Jul 25, 2013



I want in.

SlipUp
Sep 30, 2006

THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019


newtestleper posted:

Judgebrawl

SlipUp - this brawl's for you to judge as penance for your sins against good taste.

I'm into it. Waiting on the other submissions.

JuniperCake
Jan 26, 2013


This sounds amazing. In.


(USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST)

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

I got it wrong. Look, I'm well aware I got it wrong and uh, I got it wrong.


crabrock posted:

I got a boner last week, but it wasn't related to any stories. Just thought I'd keep everybody updated.
Congratulations. I know it's been very hard for you recently.

anime was right
Jun 27, 2008

by R. Guyovich


bye

anime was right fucked around with this message at Oct 27, 2015 around 05:59

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

I got it wrong. Look, I'm well aware I got it wrong and uh, I got it wrong.


anime was right posted:

no it hasnt thats the very nature of the problem
you got the joke! good job

anime was right
Jun 27, 2008

by R. Guyovich


bye

anime was right fucked around with this message at Oct 27, 2015 around 05:59

crabrock
Aug 2, 2002


Grimey Drawer

boner fight

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


this is like playing sword-fights in the school urinals

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy

Yay! You made a great choice when you decided to spin again! I know you'll create something awesome if you combine Chick Lit and Disaster Fiction!

skwidmonster posted:

Zombie Buddy Cop sounds rad AF... But I'll just to see what magic happens

Yay! A second spin is always a smart call! I mean, now you can write a Grimdark Arthurian Fantasy! What a combo!


Yay! Mashing up Dark Fantasy and Alternate History gives you so many options! Lucky dog!

Kaiju15 posted:

I want in.

Yay! You get to write an Epic Buddy Cop story! I can't wait to see it!

JuniperCake posted:

Spin!

Spin!

Yay! Lost World Children's Fantasy and Space Opera Eco-Thriller are two good-looking options! Go you!

sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

farts

sebmojo fucked around with this message at Aug 31, 2015 around 08:37

Cingulate
Oct 23, 2012



sebmojo posted:

There was a popping sound as her shirt opened. The heavy burden of her hair unfurled in slow motion.
I read that as implying the hair unfurled from between her breast. Like, you're talking about an alien species, they're wookie scientists and all extremely hairy.
You should probably rewrite it with that in mind, actually.

Here's my Bangsian Disaster Fiction. 1400 words, exactly. It was really hard not having Hitler show up, but I somehow managed.

---

The priz*e being right

The first came at midnight. His name was Tertius Decius Livier. He had brown eyes, had been a Bucinator in the Legio XII, granted Roman citizenship after raising through the ranks, he had had no wife, but a lover - a greek scriptor, tall and lean - but nobody knew this when he arrived.

The second came while Bryan Grainger was skyping with his wife. The two had spoken for hours now; the horizon Bryan could see from his Syrian apartment already developed an early gloomy orange, although back in Sweden, Franka's room was still shrouded in the darkest night. The subject was cheating. Bryan's bright anger had slowly faded into a brooding annoyance. When the second hit came, a short period of silence had just set in; Franka was biting her lips, and the two stared past each other over their webcams.

Then, Franka heard a distant muted 'thud', startling her husband. "What?" - Bryan raised his left as if to silence her. She saw him rise, turn, listening to something. He turned back to her, and with a voice suddenly all professional, said "Franka, I got to check ..."

And in this moment, the third arrived and Franka's webcam image froze.

Not two hours later, Franka was stashing her sparse luggage into her overhead compartment. Impulse actions, she thought, had brought her into this decision, maybe they would also get her out of it. At the very least she wouldn't let a bad internet connection become the end of her marriage. She leaned back, put on her sleeping mask, and tried to replace a night's sleep lost to fighting with half a morning's sleep on a flight to Syria. And while she slept, the world learned what was happening in Syria.

She managed to doze through most of the captain's confused announcement, but the panicked responses of the other passengers forced her back into the land of the living - or, what had been the land of the living just a few hours before. People were screaming all around her, Arabic, Swedish, English, French. Suddenly, the woman next to her grabbed her arm and wailed: "What do we do? What do we do?"

The crackling speaker turned on again, as if to answer her. "Currently, we do not have clearance to land. I repeat, no clearance to land. We are told to leave the area immediately. The area is unsafe. I will attempt to turn back towards Europe." And as the airplane turned in a wide arc, his left side facing the desert, Franka looked down on Syria, and she saw, tiny black spots hundreds of meters below, dead bodies, burning homes, crashed cars, and, again and again, dead bodies - on the streets, on the roofs of the tiny houses, in the sand.

Then, one hit them. His name was Ali; he had been a leader of men in the very army with which Muhammad had conquered half the Arab world, and which later, when he had died, conquered the rest of it. Ali had not seen the end of it; he had died here, in Syria, much like Tertius, dying of dysentery after a battle his army had won. And now he crashed, with terminal velocity, into the co-pilot's window. As the dead came back upon the earth in a hailstorm of corpses, the co-pilot fell into shock, and when the pilot turned, he saw a broken face looking at him from outside the cracked window.

He froze. As the airplane kept turning, the winds ripped away the corpse, leaving a blood-stained window pane behind which the Syrian sands rapidly approached. The pilot, regaining his senses, turned the aircraft's nose up again, but half a second into his upwards climb, another body dropped, right in front of him, and he could see the panicked grimace and futile flailing of limbs. The pilot screamed, pushed the joystick through, and two minutes later, the airplane crashed into the Syrian sands.

Franka, barely bruised, was one of the first to leave the beached wreck. The Syrian sun reflected from its metal skin, and when she turned away from it, from the people crawling out of the hatches, she realized nobody would come to rescue them. The city in front of her was burning.

Walking towards it, she came across two other recent arrival. A baby of 8 months, a girl, black, skinny, had landed here many hours earlier. Her mother come from the south with a slave catcher's caravan in 1572, but before the caravan arrived at the markets to be sold, her newborn had died. The second was dressed in the uniform of a German soldier, although his face was tanned - perhaps a foreign volunteer. The Death's Head symbol on his uniform paled in contrast to his actually shattered skull. Something made Franka pick up his rifle. Holding onto the weapon reminded her of hunting with her father in the tranquility of the Swedish woods, calming her down a bit. A few hundred meters in front of her, she saw another fall, a Syrian farmer, death in 7535 BC. She ran past him, towards the city.

The city was a madhouse. Veiled women were running from their homes, their children in arms. She saw another car crash right in front of her, at the outskirts of the city: one driver who had thought he could flee to the north, the other to the south, meeting in the middle and now blockading a crossing. Franka's cellphone was broken, but she saw a dropped one on the street, and when she picked it up, she couldn't make much of the words in Arabic and there was no connection, but the open browser showed grainy pictures from all over Syria of a rain of bodies.
When she looked up from the cracked LCD, she saw four men standing a few meters in front of her, silently, exchanging glances. She put the cellphone down. Then, she saw one of them fixating something behind her - nodding at something behind her.

Seeking cover, Bryan had rolled under a truck on the way to the main building. The camp of tents around it was destroyed. He heard screaming - terror, and pain - all around him. Just as he was about to get up and sprint towards his next designated cover, another body crashed into the net covering the loading area of the truck - and the net held. The body rolled down the torn net and landed in the sand right next to Bryan.
He was still alive. And Bryan knew him.

Somehow, the net had braced the impact sufficiently to keep terminal velocity from being truly terminal. Still, the body of the used car salesman Bryan had just visited two weeks ago, in Al-Qamishli, a few hours to the north, was broken and shattered. It was not the first falling body he had seen of somebody who had just died here recently. "Saa'adinii", the man gargled. Help me.
Bryan crawled towards him, although he could not think of anything he could try to help the man. When he arrived, he had perished.
And in that moment, a realization came upon him. He had seen many of his fellow non-Syrians die here today. And yet, none of them had returned from the sky. It was Roman soldiers, Muslim conquerors, farmers, housewives, slaves. All people who were born, and had died, in Syria.
People were coming back to where they were coming from.

Bryan got up and sprinted towards the central building. He had not made more than 20 meters when another corpse hit the large main tent, and when dodging the toppling supporting structure, Bryan stumbled, fell, and came to rest, unconscious, in the shadow of the cement walls.

When he awoke, it was dark. Nobody was there - nobody but corpses. Suddenly, a hooded figure emerged from the shadow, tall and skinny. Carrying a machine pistol. Bryan grunted in pain.
Then, the shadow removed its veil and Bryan saw long, flowing blonde hair. "Franka!"
She kneeled beside him. The barrel of the gun touched the floor right next to his face. "Don't worry, it's empty", she said.
"Why did you ..?"
"Because", she said, "the priz*e being right, wouldn't you?"
Bryan managed a smile. Then, he said: "I love you too. But we have to go. Find some place where no humans have lived before."

---

I have a request to reviewers, please only read once you're done: Can you tell me how obvious it is I'm not a native speaker? Not meant as an apology for it being bad, I'm just wondering.

* gently caress you. I do what I want. If you ask me to shake your hand, I may well suck your dick, if I feel like it that day.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

aaaah

Untitled judgebrawl
243 words

edit: This is out for submission. Here's a link that requires permission to view.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/...dit?usp=sharing

Sitting Here fucked around with this message at Aug 31, 2015 around 06:48

N. Senada
May 17, 2011




Sincerely, thanks.

N. Senada fucked around with this message at Aug 27, 2015 around 22:31

Halbey
Dec 9, 2009


I would like to spin the wheel of misfortune.

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy


Yay! An Action-Adventure Urban Fantasy sounds super neato!

Jon Joe
Oct 19, 2011

magical teen bomb squad



Grimey Drawer

Spin like Tyrannosaurus's Gatling gun.

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy

jon joe posted:

Spin like Tyrannosaurus's Gatling gun.

Yay! A Picaresque Spy-Fi story is just what this week needs! Do great!

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


In

Ovaltine
Mar 23, 2012


Spin!

Dr. Kloctopussy
Apr 22, 2003


Spin me.
Right Round.

(round round)

(like a record)

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy


Yay! You're off to a great start when your genres are High Fantasy and Ghosts/Hauntings! Go you!


Yay! Mashing together Cyberpunk and Political Intrigue sounds incredible! I can't wait to see what you'll do with it!


Yay! You drew both Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance! Unbelievable! What luck!

Dr. Kloctopussy
Apr 22, 2003


Tyrannosaurus posted:

Yay! You drew both Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance! Unbelievable! What luck!

How is this even real?

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy

Dr. Kloctopussy posted:

How is this even real?

You should think about buying a lottery ticket, you lucky dog!

Ovaltine
Mar 23, 2012


Spin again!

Cingulate
Oct 23, 2012



Are there any stories of people coming here, and being at first truly terrible, or at least mediocre, and then perpetually improving and eventually winning and embarrassing you all and poo poo?

Chairchucker
Nov 14, 2006

The man was stunningly well dressed. He had a smart looking jacket, and a really neat looking cape, the lining of which was shimmering and sparkling in more than Oriental splendour, which is a great deal of splendour indeed, just ask Kipling.

Cingulate posted:

Are there any stories of people coming here, and being at first truly terrible, or at least mediocre, and then perpetually improving and eventually winning and embarrassing you all and poo poo?

Nope we all stay terrible forever sorry.

crabrock
Aug 2, 2002


Grimey Drawer

Cingulate posted:

Are there any stories of people coming here, and being at first truly terrible, or at least mediocre, and then perpetually improving and eventually winning and embarrassing you all and poo poo?

Not an exhaustive list:

http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?author=Tyrannosaurus
http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?...led%20Patriarch
http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?...andedOnTheMoon!
http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?author=Systran

And then some people stay terrible or even get worse:

http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/?...=Sitting%20Here

HopperUK
Apr 29, 2007

Clear off, fatso, this is a respectable establishment





Fallen Rib

Cingulate posted:

Are there any stories of people coming here, and being at first truly terrible, or at least mediocre, and then perpetually improving and eventually winning and embarrassing you all and poo poo?

My first story was a boring pile of blah and then the next week I won, which I don't recommend because I didn't know what the gently caress

magnificent7
Sep 22, 2005

THUNDERDOME LOSER



Hey wait now, I definitely went from unbearably lovely to merely godawful. Can't believe you didn't include me in your list, after all those rounds I entered and never oh gently caress nevermind.

N. Senada
May 17, 2011


In

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

I failed to submit because I was so excited about New Zealander Tim Price winning the Burghley Horse Trials on the quirky but freakishly talented Ringwood Sky Boy


Yay! You made a brilliant decision spinning again because Steampunk Alternate History is a goldmine of creative opportunities! Mine away!


Yay! There is something really special about Paranormal Noir! How exciting for you!

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

I got it wrong. Look, I'm well aware I got it wrong and uh, I got it wrong.


Cingulate posted:

Are there any stories of people coming here, and being at first truly terrible, or at least mediocre, and then perpetually improving and eventually winning and embarrassing you all and poo poo?
I know Capntastic first lost, then later won. I feel like Chairchucker also did a switch from usually DM --> often HM.

docbeard
Jul 18, 2011

High marks for compassion, low marks for survival skills





I've definitely gone from DMs and gently caress YOU reactions to winning and HMing a fair few times (with admittedly still the occasional gently caress YOU reaction).

Not sure I've embarrassed anyone except myself along the way. I don't think anyone would be embarrassed by people getting better at the thing we are all here to get better at.

flerp
Feb 25, 2014



I won once on accident and it was the worst thing in the world.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Cingulate posted:

Are there any stories of people coming here, and being at first truly terrible, or at least mediocre, and then perpetually improving and eventually winning and embarrassing you all and poo poo?

Tons of people improve. Wins are only one metric of that. It all depends on who's judging, how many people are in a week, whether there are writers with more experience participating. Like, I judged last week, and can say confidently that Spectres of Autism and Skwidmonster wrote stories that the judges liked a lot, in spite of having a history of rough feedback in their crits. I was also pleasantly surprised by Mons Hubris, who got a dishonorable mention the week before.

Actually, I've been noticing a lot of improvement in general. TD judgment is not the apotheosis of literary opinions. And it's never embarrassing when someone improves and then "beats" those of us with lots of wins/HMs, or whatever. It's humbling. When someone gets a bunch of DMs, and keeps writing, and then blows us all away, that's amazing to me. I have a fragile baby ego and if I got a DM or loss I would sulk for daaaaays, believe me. So when people have it really rough, and they keep it up, I think it shows a level of resilience and dedication that deserves some serious respect.

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Mercedes
Mar 7, 2006

"So you Jesus?"

"And you black?"

"Nigga prove it!"

And so Black Jesus turned water into a bucket of chicken. And He saw that it was good.


See, the trick is to get a poo poo ton of DMs, so it doesn't faze you anymore. Then you're completely free to experiment without the fear of failure holding you back. It's the way to go bro.

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