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crabrock
Aug 2, 2002

aka sticklegs



Grimey Drawer

Grizzled Patriarch posted:

That's a wrap ladies and gents!

I'LL WRAP MY FINGERS AROUND YOUR NECK

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Grizzled Patriarch
Mar 27, 2014

These dentures won't stop me from tearing out jugulars in Thunderdome.




DQ'ed for Judge Murder

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.

I don't see that in the rules anywhere, what the hell man, just make up rules whenever you feel like it, this is bollocks.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Grizzled Patriarch posted:

DQ'ed for Judge Murder

Chairchucker posted:

I don't see that in the rules anywhere, what the hell man, just make up rules whenever you feel like it, this is bollocks.

yeah actually judgekilling is explicitly in the OP:

quote:

Thunderdome is more than just a weekly flash fiction contest. However, we can’t tell you how much more, or in what way, because we’re all terrible writers because gently caress you, gently caress you, and especially gently caress you (the one in the back, almost didn't see you there) .

...

All story posts are final. No edits, no take-backsies. Once you’ve submitted, your rear end is riding the train full speed to Fistville. The judges MIGHT use lube, assuming you don’t try to sneak back in and edit your entry.


KILL
ALL
JUDGES

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

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


Auntie why you say like that lah

flerp
Feb 25, 2014


Interprompt: disaster at the high seas

200 words

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011

~it's like people say we're all gonna die
but me it's different i'm not trying to be alive~




Captain Neckbeard checked his abacus. gently caress, he thought. Why did I bring an abacus? This thing doesn't have anywhere near the RAM I need. He turned to his crew, who were looking at him expectantly.

"Yeah," he said. "I think we're lost."

His first mate bristled. Neckbeard had never trusted him, mostly because any attempts to engage him in conversation about asymmetrical sail designs had resulted in withering stares. An underling who will not listen to you, he thought, is no good at all. Now the man spoke.

"We’re in kraken waters, sir. These things will eat our poo poo if we float around here too long. I say we pick a direction at random and sail full speed ahead.”

Neckbeard felt like laughing. “My good sir,” he said. “We can not simply follow our whims without thinking things through. We have been gifted with reason so that we don’t resort to chaos in our times of need.”

“gently caress this,” his mate said. He was drawing his cutlass, a threatening action indeed. Neckbeard considered that the man might be on the verge of mutiny.

“Stand down,” Neckbeard said. “Or else I shall be forced to employ my superior intellect and technology in order to dispatch you.”

“Really,” the mate said. “Give it your best shot, you tricorne tipper.”

Neckbeard was furious. “Tricornes are the height of class, you cur.” Drawing his flintlock, he took careful aim and fired.

There was a puff of smoke and a ripping noise as the bullet tore a hole in the sail twenty feet above his mate. The mate rolled his eyes and stabbed him in the dick, and as he lay there, his men laughing, Neckbeard considered how the Kraken was really a false flag.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

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


"Whoa," said the sea, "this is some good poo poo."

It was true, the sea was blazed af.

"WE'RE OUT OF RAMEN AND CHILI SAUCE" said the spirit who summons storms.

"poo poo," said the sea. It was pretty poo poo, tbh.

Bompacho
Nov 28, 2005


I raced upstairs from the basement to greet Mom coming in the door, she was back from grocery shopping.
I hastily snatched a carton of Hi-C off the counter and jammed the straw into it. As I guzzled the sweet liquid I realized something was wrong.

"What the gently caress Mom?" I yelled "Apple Kiwi Kraze? Where's my loving Ecto-cooler?"

"I'm sorry hon' they discontinued it" she replied.

gently caress you Hi-C.

.

sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010


Legit Cyberpunk

Captain James Sailor looked at his ship. It was a mess, with rubbish all over it. "This is a disaster", he said.

CancerCakes
Jan 10, 2006

WORST WIZARD, THUNDERDOME
LOSER


Maugrim posted:

I am a dismal failure this week and will duly flagellate myself.

Failed to judge a brawl as well. A shameful display.

sebmojo posted:

Captain James Sailor looked at his ship. It was a mess, with rubbish all over it. "This is a disaster", he said.

Still waiting on that crit. A shameful display.

You two failures should brawl each other, winner brawls me.

Step up if you got game

sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010


Legit Cyberpunk

500 words, I'm in, who'll judge

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


sebmojo posted:

500 words, I'm in, who'll judge

I'll judge if Maugrim accepts. Toxx required of course.

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

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


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ay9ZxsulN2c

SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010

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


"Judgement made with due haste is in all regards the true measure of man." - Quintus Flavian Von Thunderdome

Capntastic
Jan 13, 2005

A dog begins eating a dusty old coil of rope but there's a nail in it.

Fallen Rib

HeLa
(1080 words)


A dull green military truck dragged a pink vortex of dust across Arizona wasteland.

Lacks shook the ballpoint pen between her thumb and forefinger before twirling it point first onto the notebook's coarse pages. Her tracing left an absolutely perfect circle of ink on the paper now that the pen had decided to behave. She glanced down at the circle and smiled, before shifting her gaze to the instrument panel of the truck. Half a tank left. Hours left to drive. She levelled her eyes at the horizon of sand. With with her right hand hovering over the notebook taped to the dashboard, she prepared her last will and testament.

Beyond mere soundness of body and mind, Henrietta Lacks was immortal. Everyone knew that. It used to just be a handful in the medical community that were aware of this miracle, but some schmuck doctor gladly sold his license to practice for tipping off the federal government about an honest-to-god immortal. Decades later and doctor/patient confidentiality was still a common punchline for those hacks writing late night host monologues. Change the channel back to the news and the discussions about immortality, an unkillable American citizen, and the ethics of cloning were simply the punchline to a joke the world made behind Henrietta's back.

She picked up the idea of how special she was pretty quick. Companies wanted vials of her blood and tissue for analysis and a glossy headshot and her signature for endorsements. She was in and out of hospitals and penthouses for a few years, whisked along by a shimmering tide of money, travel, and fame. It was hollow. She knew that to some extent, the knowledge gained by studying her almost mythical DNA sequence would save the lives of many. But her star faded after the first gallon or so of blood. The trick of her cells was that they went on without her. And they did.

The magazine articles mostly dried up. The visits to the Whitehouse and other photo ops slowed mostly vanished. The hate mail and death threats mostly ended. She filled her time with practice. She read. She engaged in sports, music, and art. She spent as much time being a human as possible. When a rock climbing accident that would have destroyed a professional left her merely concussed and with shattered ribs, she recieved treatment at her home rather than spend time in a white room's white bed. No vials of her blood slipping into pockets and then onto courier's iceboxes.

She'd known for years that she was in a thousand laboratories being cut apart and poisoned under microscopes. What her cells were doing to others was much more recent. What she'd watched with industrious fascination thirty or forty years ago was sickening today. She'd seen the slow approach towards eradicated disease and regenerated organs. She hadn't seen the failed clones and distorted hybrids. The cancer patient's lungs being shredded by her own tissues growing through it. The sixteen soldiers in Texas needing limbs amputated for volunteering for a possible joint damage cure. The genetic fact that multiple prescription regeneratives for eyesight and hairloss were on the market making sacks of cash for faceless corporations despite a growing list of side effects. Products like HeLascope and HeLamax were advertised without any mention that you were buying someone's boiled and strained immortality. The threat of legal action made putting her face and name on any magazine not worth the ink.

The direction the world was heading in was clear. Lacks wanted no part.

She knew how to play a thousand songs and could recite a thousand stories from all avenues of of humanity's past. She'd even taken some self defense classes. Cutting through a chainlink fence might make someone's nerves act up. Sneaking up to a military base that isn't officially on any map might chill someone's guts. Of all the thousands of samples of HeLa nerve and gut tissue in the world, none were as relaxed as the ones she still had control over. Of all the thousands of gallons of HeLa blood frozen in unlabelled labs in the world, none was colder than what was in her veins.

The first guard to get back up radioed ahead. The second and the third guard worked together to realize that the dusty green blot on the horizon might have once been the truck parked by the gatehouse they manned.

Lacks spotted jeeps in the rearview mirror. She reached beside her, where the seatbelt held a hand grenade snugly. The pin tasted like hospital silverware. She spit it out at the same time she hooked the grenade out the window. It rolled for one second before exploding with more noise than lethal force. She didn't need it to hurt anyone. The trucks slowed and swerved.

She caught the soldiers' familiar eyes in the mirror, and wondered if their HeLascope was covered by the military's insurance. Her pen had finally run out of ink. She tossed the lead lined journal out the window and watched the trucks swerve as if it were another grenade. She jammed the gas pedal down and stopped caring if they followed.

The trucks had stopped following her as she began passing the signs with skulls and lightning bolts and the word "Atomic Test Site" in more languages than she'd managed to learn. There were only minutes left. If her mental math was correct, the notebook should be far enough away from the blast radius's center to remain legible. She parked the truck next to a facsimile of a concrete building and stretched her legs. All that was left was to listen for the plane and its payload.

Lacks' will, a scorched metal book recovered from the outskirts of an atomic detonation, made her desire for a normal life clear. The tabloids were quick to report that her wishes to keep her brain out of the hands of those that would misuse it were equal to her fear that her mind might live on in a million splinters being bought and sold in injections and pills. Many scoffed at the woman's apparent lack of respect for the medical profession, and her anti-scientific agenda. The legal side of her final request promises to take decades to fulfill. Her sole wish is that her remains be cremated and spread across the world's oceans. Executors of her estate are hard at work in every country tracking down the immortal HeLa samples and sealing them in thousands of urns.

Grizzled Patriarch
Mar 27, 2014

These dentures won't stop me from tearing out jugulars in Thunderdome.




Results!

This was a tough week to judge. A lot of the stories had the same issues, and the high-tier stories all had wildly different strengths and weaknesses. Surprisingly, the weak stories weren't all that bad - mostly they were just kind of boring or packed with too much exposition.

Your winner this week is newtestleper, who told an interesting story with some great human moments, despite a little roughness around the edges.

Honorable Mentions go to sebmojo, crabrock, and Benny Profane. Nice work!

The losertar goes to Paladinus , who tried to outsmart the prompt with an intriguing idea told in a disappointingly clumsy way.

No DMs this week.

I will have some crits up for you all tomorrow. Take 'er away, Newt!

contagonist
Jul 21, 2014

You shouldn't be doing anything with fluorine.

It sucks not being the loser. I don't even get to laugh at myself.

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


Thunderdome CXXXVII - A Picture is Worth rand( ) % 1500 words


Alright you uncultured swine, I won a week with a story based on a painting, now one of you lot is going to do the same.

No, not some pixel art of Zelda or a frame of half naked cat girl anime. I'm talking Fine Art like wot hangs in galleries.

Sign up and I or another judge will assign you a painting and a random word count between 400 and 1500 words.

Don't bank on having seen the painting you are assigned before, I will generally avoid the well trodden paths. The prompt is extremely loose. So long as your story ties to the painting in some way it will be acceptable, anything from the subject matter to the tone to the history behind the painting. If you ask me or any judges whether your particular interpretation of the prompt is okay the answer will be an automatic no as punishment for asking.

YOU MAY NOT WRITE YOUR STORY ABOUT THE PAINTER OF THE WORK.
(I was burned too bad by that one when I judged my last brawl.)

Your story must be within 50 words either side of your assigned word count. Making good use of a longer or shorter word count will be an important factor in the judging rubric. Vignettes are acceptable, but obviously that will depend a lot on your wordcount. A 350 word vignette is fine, a 1550 word one is not. I cannot accept poetry because I am not equipped to judge it.

Bonus re-roll fun

For the price of toxxing yourself you can buy a re-roll. The wordcount will be random but I will be going out of my way to assign some particularly difficult and weird paintings to re-rollers. You are warned in advance that I have zero mercy and if you are one second late you WILL be banned. This goes for any other regular toxxes.

Entry Deadline is 11:59 pm PDT, Friday 20 March
Submission Deadline is 11:59 pm PDT, Sunday 22 March as I am just you will have to the end of that minute based on the time stamp of your post.

FJGJ crew: newtestleper, surreptitious muffin, nethilia

Edit: No erotica, no fan fiction. Any other genre is fine.

Starving Artists:
Djeser - Rain, Steam and Speed - The Great Western Railway by J M W Turner - 1431 words
contagonist - Broadway Boogie-Woogie, 1942 by Piet Mondrian - 1216 words
Sitting Here - The Scarred Couch, the Auckland Experience by Philip Clairmont - 1430 words
Entenzahn - Maesta by Duccio - 608 words
hotsoupdinner - Raft of the Medusa by Theodore Gericault - exactly 1000 words
Wangless Wonder - Abstract Speed + Sound by Giacomo Balla - 1138 words
Bompacho - The Dog by Francisco Goya - 544 words
Comrade Question - A Bigger Splash by David Hockney - 601 words
A Classy Ghost - Dawn/Water Poem by Ralph Hotere - 931 words
Ancient Blades - Flag, 1954-55 by Jasper Johns - 1283 words
PootieTang - The Geographer by Vermeer - 1223 words
Benny Profane - Cueva de los Manos by cavemen - 839 words
Noah - The Opening of the Fifth Seal (The Vision of St John) by El Greco - 1350 words
ZeBourgeoisie - Still Life Before an Open Window by Juan Gris - 616 words
Capntastic - Self Portrait by Gustave Courbet - 661 words
Grizzled Patriarch - Opus 217. Against the Enamel of a Background Rhythmic with Beats and Angles, Tones, and Tints, Portrait of M. Félix Fénéon in 1890 by Paul Signac - 1466 words
Broenheim - Beat the Whites with the Red Wedge by El Lissitzky - 869 words
curlingiron - Judith Beheading Holofernes by Caravaggio - 1463 words REROLL
curlingiron - IKB 191 by Yves Klein - 1226 words
Megazver - Glenrowan by Sir Sidney Nolan - 776 words
Screaming Idiot - Figures and Dog in Front of the Sun by Joan Miro - 600 words
Walamor - House of Cards by Zinaida Serebriakova - 1004 words
Tyrannosaurus - Traffic Cop Bay by Bill Hammond - 650 words
CancerCakes - Just What Is It That Makes Today's Homes So Different, So Appealing? by Richard Hamilton - 968 words
Angel Opportunity - Nobson Newtown by Paul Noble - 648 words
Doctor Idle - Dust to Dust by Denis Peterson - 1341 words
madpanda - Jitterbugs by William Johnson - 1045 words

newtestleper fucked around with this message at Mar 20, 2015 around 02:20

Djeser
Mar 22, 2013



In

contagonist
Jul 21, 2014

You shouldn't be doing anything with fluorine.

In. I'm playing this until I win, damnit.

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003



Okay we'll start things off nice and easy...


Rain, Steam and Speed - The Great Western Railway by J M W Turner

Wordcount: 1431

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


contagonist posted:

In. I'm playing this until I win, damnit.


Broadway Boogie-Woogie, 1942 by Piet Mondrian

Wordcount: 1216

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

in

Entenzahn
Nov 15, 2012

What will you say when
your child asks:
why didn't you invest in
Thunderdome?


In

newtestleper posted:

but I will be going out of my way to assign some particularly difficult and weird paintings to re-rollers.

WHY WAIT?

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003




The Scarred Couch, the Auckland Experience by Philip Clairmont

Wordcount: 1430

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003


Entenzahn posted:

In
WHY WAIT?


Maesta by Duccio

Wordcount: 608

hotsoupdinner
Apr 12, 2007
eat up

In.

newtestleper
Oct 30, 2003




Raft of the Medusa by Theodore Gericault

Word count: 1000
Flash Rule: As TDBot saw fit to give you such a nice round number you must hit your word count exactly

newtestleper fucked around with this message at Mar 17, 2015 around 17:14

Wangless Wonder
May 27, 2009


in

Bompacho
Nov 28, 2005


contagonist posted:

I'm playing this until I win, damnit.

What this guy said.

In

Comrade Question
Mar 30, 2011

"I'd say it's nothing personal, but corporations are people, too."


In, gently caress me up.

A Classy Ghost
Jul 21, 2003

this wine has a fantastic booquet


In

spectres of autism
Feb 12, 2011

~it's like people say we're all gonna die
but me it's different i'm not trying to be alive~




in, could you give me something trippy and weird? please no dogs playing poker

PootieTang
Aug 2, 2011

by XyloJW


IN like Flynn.

Maugrim
Feb 16, 2011

I eat your face



CancerCakes posted:

Failed to judge a brawl as well. A shameful display.

You two failures should brawl each other, winner brawls me.

Nope, not gonna accept a punishment based on a false accusation. Benny hasn't submitted his entry and the deadline hasn't passed yet.

Maugrim posted:

Benny the Cake vs. CancerSnakes BRAWL

Oh no! The mad inventor has created something he can't control!

Deadline: March 20th, 9pm GMT. You get longer if I forget or am otherwise delayed

Benny Profane
Feb 23, 2012



In.

Noah
May 31, 2011

Come at me baby bitch


In.

ZeBourgeoisie
Aug 8, 2013

THUNDERDOME
LOSER


In for the first time in a long time.

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Capntastic
Jan 13, 2005

A dog begins eating a dusty old coil of rope but there's a nail in it.

Fallen Rib

In for the kill

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