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Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010

If you must blink, do it now.


Merry Christmas Thunderdome!

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ThirdEmperor
Aug 7, 2013


SCREAMING YES
MOTHERFUCKER
I AM GUILTY, I AM DEATH


Fifty Years and a Wake Up 774 words

For a week solid Johnny had dreamed dull, percussive dreams, ships tossing atop an ocean rocked by great undersea blooms of atomic fire. On the day of, Christmas day, he drank his orange juice sweating, festive mug in clammy fingers, staring across at a man three years his junior trying to get a spoon all the way from his bowl to his mouth. Gramps' arm stopped at the elbow, replaced by a smooth piece of chrome twisted into a half-cylinder, exposing the simple little pistons and pulleys that articulated his clumsy plastic hand. His left cheek caved down, the skin wrinkled black and teeth below gone from freezerburn.

"So." Gramps seemed surprised he was saying anything - the spoon paused, almost there, soggy cheerios leaping the sides as it shook. "Scary as hell, right?"
"I'll be fine." Johnny pulled his eyes down, glared at his toast. It was hard to take him seriously, this kid who was also his grandfather, who was also older than the colony, who had seen a war John could hardly remember except for the day his parents had been smiling and it was over.

It was weird and John stared at anything but his grandfather as he chewed away on automatic, at the two portraits sitting on the wall. One old and grey, one younger but still angry, the same strict glare in both sets of eyes. A dead emperor and a warmongering prince trying to fill his shoes.

The windows rattled, shuddering in their frames as another ship lifted off in the distance.

"I was really busy trying not to look scared for, I dunno, a week? Then everybody broke down a little and we all just.." A big shrug, and the kid, Gramps, gave up and went back to fighting his breakfast, worn down against the wall of silence.

"The first decade." Johnny added, before he could help it.
"Try not to think like that." Grinning pulled all that weird, loose skin taught as a drum. It hurt to look at. Seeing the effort that smile was taking, that hurt worse, the low burning panic in the kid's eyes. "Just stay in your own head on your own time, or you'll get all bent out of shape."

Positive thinking didn't save his arm or his face.

"So you're never taking that jackass down." Angry was easy and here was the cheap, easy shot to angry.
"Reg says I'm entitled to it." Gramps snapped back, so fast it was couldn't help but sound petty. Almost funny. From world weary wisdom to clinging to Regulation's boots.

"Becausw they're scared you'll snap. Heck, I - I'd let you forget that, do let you forget, so eat your loving cornflakes. I don't need this." It took him a second, with the blood rushing through his brain, to settle back into breathing and thinking and that general sense of self awareness, to start sinking from mad down into shame. To sink back into his seat and let his shoulders slump.

"So it's gonna suck, yeah, and for loving everyone else on that boat too. Not just you. Good luck. You don't wanna hear the bright side, you can be going crazy and depressed. Good luck if you give everyone the loving cold shoulder. People on the boat -" The spoon wobbled at him. "Only people you're gonna know."

"You've got dribble." Johnny traced the spot on his own cheek.

"If you wanna win, you win." The kid shrugged his skinny shoulders, the cotton wifebeater clinging to them showing the wasted-down muscle on his left arm, the clustering bubbles of scabby flesh on his stump. "I wanted out."

"So, you what." So Johnny did win, and every mean little assumption he'd ever made was right. "You signed just to run?"

Gramps squelched an awful sound out of his ruined jaw. "Yeah. Yeah kinda did." He grinned and it hurt worse. "gently caress."

"gently caress."

And after a minute. "gently caress. So I'm scared."

"Fuckit, you're scared of something real. loving scary, tiny metal tube in big space, tiny people."

"Not helping."

"Ain't I?"

"gently caress."

The alarm buzzed, all through the little rows of identical houses, all down the suburbs sprawling out from the airbase. Johnny stood, slid his jacket on, and saluted the emperors on the wall. Stuck his hand out to Gramps.

"Merry Christmas."
"Nice meeting you." The kid pulled him - or stumbled into - a terse, weak hug, and that was that.

But the dreams were calmer, at least, as John slept that night in a little cold capsule beside a thousand others, and light years jumped past.

Flesnolk
Apr 11, 2012

If only, THUNDERDOME


29 minutes remain.

BeefSupreme
Sep 14, 2007

DOUBLE BEEF ACTION

A Christmas Feast

Removed. You can still find these crappy words right here in the archives!

BeefSupreme fucked around with this message at Jan 3, 2017 around 08:09

SkaAndScreenplays
Dec 11, 2013

by FactsAreUseless


Throw Another Yule Log On The Ceasefire
976 Words

“Ms. Charlotte…”

The tiny voice was accompanied by an urgent prodding of Sgt. Dammers’ shoulder; punctuated by a burst of machine gun fire somewhere far-off in the distance.

Sounds like the ceasefire fell through, she pushed the thought to the back of her head and buried with a pillow.

“Ms. Charlotte!” The words were frantic this time, “Wake up, It’s Christmas Eve!”

Forcing herself upright the Sergeant groaned, “what time is it Walter?”

“Seven,” he chirped. “What time does Santa usually come?”

“Usually when you’re asleep,” she felt guilty for the bitterness in her words. Walt had become somewhat of a mascot to the 102nd infantry. Here he stood before her; all bright-eyed and excited for Santa seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was a war on.

How much of it is a front, she thought to herself, there’s no way this kid is so cheerful when there’s nobody else around.

“Where’s the rest of your squad?” Walter’s eager smile warmed the burnt-out husk of a tavern the 102nd had been calling home for a week or so. With a prideful groan he lifted a bucket from a beat-up red wagon, “I got you guys presents but want you all to open them together.”

Charlotte felt her heart melt at the gesture, “should be downstairs.”

Walter’s smile flashed brightly, “I’ll go get ‘em!”

It couldn’t have been much more than a minute later that the steady beat of combat boots echoed up from the basement.

“Merry Christmas Sarge,” her troops cheered in concert as they cleared the threshold.

“Merry Christmas,” she chimed back, “Sounds like our mascot has gotten presents for everybody. I hope you’re all as thoughtful as he is.”

“Walt’s a good little poo poo, isn’t he,” the thunderous voice of Private Marco boomed as he shrugged Walter off his shoulders. “Whatdja get your favorite meat-head?”

“You’ve got two!” Walter strained to pull the wagon closer to the assembled troops. With an adorable growl he set a box and a bucket at Marco’s feet, “they’re heavy so be careful.”

Marco tore into the box with glee, “Lead chimney flashing, you shouldn’t have!”

“Now the other one, they only make sense together!”

Marco smiled as he peeled back the lid of the bucket. Tears pooling in his eyes the private tilted the bucket forward for all to see. It was filled to the brim with spent brass.

“You told Ms. Charlotte that you were running out of rounds for your gun. You can use the lead to make new bullets.” Marco fought to hide the tears streaming down his face; Walter had already noticed.

“What’s wrong, I didn’t get the wrong size did I?”

“No,” Marco wiped his eyes before pulling Walter into a warm hug, “I’m just sad I don’t have anything for you.”

“Mr. Marco, You’re squishing me,” Walter’s muffled voice cried, “You’re keeping everyone else from getting their gifts!”

One by one Walter presented each member of the 102nd infantry with their gift and why he got it for them:

A leather guitar strap for Corporal Morales, “Because those cloth rifle slings keep twisting up on you!”

A deck of cards for PFC Tompkins, “To replace the lucky Queen that sonofabitch sniper knocked out of your helmet!”

A bundle of toothbrushes and a bottle of vegetable oil for Specialist Rhodes, “Because if nobody is going to take care of their damned gear they should at least make it easier for the quartermaster to do her job.”

Finally it was Charlotte’s turn to receive a grim reminder of the war the reality they found themselves in. She took a knee as Walter marched proudly towards her, struggling to balance a long skinny box on his shoulder.

“I was kind of naughty with your gift,” he stated with a matter of fact tone and a guilty expression, “so you’ve got to promise to put it back when the war is all done.”

“I promise.” Charlotte opened the package with the same careful deliberation she would have given to disarming a landmine. Reaching inside she felt the cool touch of metal against her hand, her hand closed gently around the hilt of something. With a flourish she drew the sword from its box; gasping at the beauty

“A mortar hit the museum the other day,” Charlotte shuddered at the banal way Walter spoke about the worst parts of war, “Which is why you’ve got to give it back when the war stops, but now you’ve got a sword just like your daddy did when he was a sergeant.”

Charlotte choked back tears of every emotion as she pulled the boy in close, “you are too good to us Walt… What did we do to deserve such an awesome buddy?”

An hour later Walter left for home, Private Marco acting as an escort under Charlotte’s orders. Without a word the squad set to work making a Christmas miracle. Reindeer were fashioned from blankets and bar stools, a sleigh from the cabinet of an old racing game. A few roughshod coats of paint later and they had a convincing fraud.

Charlotte spent an hour negotiating a new ceasefire; the CIC of the occupation force even offering whatever aid they needed.

Up on the housetop click, click, click…

The moon low in the night sky the soldiers of the 102nd were no longer machine gunners or radio operators or sergeants. They were Santa and his reindeer; their arrival heralded by the boisterous laughter of CIC Daniels over the city’s P.A. system.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!”

A firework burst in the sky.

“Merry Christmas!”

The light of Walter’s bedroom sparked to life.

“Merry Christmas!”

In the amber glow Charlotte saw not just the face of Walter; a child war had forgotten peeking through their windows. Smiling bright with the affirmation that miracles can happen.

She hoped this ceasefire lasted...

Erogenous Beef
Dec 20, 2006

i know the filthy secrets of your heart


Christmas is over, subs are closed!

With the floor bedewed in wrapping paper, crawl safe into your beds and sleep off the goose and turkey, safe in the knowledge that you shall be judged as harshly as your mean old Aunt Sally and hated with all the power of an eggnog hangover.

Erogenous Beef
Dec 20, 2006

i know the filthy secrets of your heart


TD CCXXIX: The War, on Christmas -- Results

I suppose it makes sense, in retrospect. The signs are all there. The prompt itself; the ubiquity of fake snow; Fallout 4 being at the top of the Steam charts. I'd hoped hoped that we'd get more than a bunch of postapoc vignettes, but in the end that's what so many of you gave us, like ugly ill-fitting socks that I'll stick in the back of my drawer and only take out when I've been too lazy to do laundry for weeks on end.

There were other problems. Unwarranted verbosity. Talking heads shouting exposition at one another. Vagueness. One story was the exemplar of these crimes, and for them we order ThirdEmperor to be nailed upon a cross, left at the crossroads of Loserville, and be named beggar-prince of that place.

Nearly as bad, we dishonorably mention the Father, the Son and The Unholy Ghost for delivering a rambling muddle that spends far too many words on the mundanity of that most unpleasant of activities (Christmas Shopping) and too few on character or plot.

Few managed to rise to the occasion and bring smiles to the cruel lips of the judges. While not without flaw, sebmojo's weird postapoc story of love between ultramen will take the week's blood crown.

May the rest of you be blessed with horrible hangovers; this week is done.

Crits to follow, tomorrow.

Erogenous Beef fucked around with this message at Dec 26, 2016 around 19:14

Djeser
Mar 22, 2013



Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

tpmorp

flerp
Feb 25, 2014


flerp
Feb 25, 2014


MERRY CHRISTMAS KAISHAI HERE IS MY MOUSTACHE MERMAN STORY FROM THAT EUROVISION WEEK

The Mysterious, Mustachioed Merman

In the underwater city of Domeland, crime was rampant. There was mermurder, merthievery, merforagery. The good and innocent mermen could not walk out of night, in fear of being attacked by baby faced vandals.

That was, until, a new hero was born out from the harsh sands of the city. Some say the hero didn’t even have a father or mother, but that he was born out from all the cracked shells the ruffians have trampled over. Some say he doesn’t even exist and is just a lie from the corrupt merjournalist complex. It’s not even clear if he’s a merman or merwoman.

The only thing agreed upon, though, is that, whoever the great hero is, they has the most glorious moustache.

#

Moustache, as the journalists called him in the paper, sat on the rooftops of an abandoned apartment building. It was 1 AM, but that didn’t really matter since they were at the bottom of the ocean and was always dark. However, all the self-respecting merpeople would sleep at reasonable hours except for the bad guys (and also the good guys who were looking to beat up the bad guys).

Moustache hated bad guys because they didn’t have moustaches. Or even beards. He could understand, maybe, that it was because it would make them less aquadynamic, but really, that only matters if they’re merolympians. And merolympians are heroes, not bad guys.

He heard a blood curtling scream ring out from the streets. Someone was in trouble! Moustache sprung up, ran his finger against his moustache, and felt power course through his veins. All of Moustache’s power came from his glorious and well-groomed upper lip hair, and he leaped off the roof and swam towards trouble.

Before he did that, though, he called the police since they were the unspoken heroes who would help anyone, anywhere.

When he got there, though, there was nobody there. He cautiously sculled around, worried that he had gotten too late, and that the poor citizen was already harmed.

His moustache twitched. Danger! But it was too late, and Moustache was hit in the back of the head with a big rock. He fell down, his face rubbing against the sand, his moustache still twitching.

He heard maniacal laughter, but it was off key and nasally, and he knew exactly who it was. Plain Face. His archnemesis.

“It’s good to see you're as predictable as ever, Beard.”

“It’s Moustache,” he said, trying to hide his tears. He could never grow a beard. It was his greatest shame.

“Well, you’re about to be nothing,” Plain Face said, flipping over Moustache. He saw, in his hand, the most hideous and awful creation in all of the merkingdom.

A battery operated clipper.

Plain Face laughed as he turned it on, his hairless face writhing with joy. Moustache tried to get up, but he didn’t have the energy. The rock had done a number on him. An ordinary merperson would’ve died to the blow, but the power of the moustache saved him. But there was only so much it could do. All his power was used up.

Plain Face knelt down in front of him, and he could smell his really awful cologne. Like, for real, it smelt like rotten eggs. Moustache considered, for a brief moment, to rename Plain Face to Rotten Eggs, but then decided this wasn’t the time to make such brash decisions.

“I guess this is the end of Moustache,” Plain Face said as he held down Moustache’s head and shaved off his moustache.

Moustache’s scream was heard by everyone in the great city of Domeland.

#

Moustache was nothing now. He was now just Mermle, a boring and harmless librarian at Domeland’s premiere library.

Plain Face laughed and kicked Mermle in his tail. “I knew it. You’re nothing without your moustache. You’re not even an hero.”

“You’re right,” Mermle said, clenching onto his aching scales.

Then, blue and red lights filled up the alley. Mercops jumped out of their squads and shouted, “Put your hands up.”

Plain Face stared at Mermle in disbelief.

“The true heroes are the officers who put themselves in harm’s way each and every day.”

#

Officer McCoy put a blanket over Mermle, but it was all wet and heavy (because they’re underwater and everything) so Mermle threw it off.

“Sorry about your moustache,” McCoy said. “It was quite beautiful.”

Mermle nodded solemnly. “We all make sacrifices,” he said.

McCoy pat Mermle on his shoulder, and they sat in silence. There wasn’t anything to say. A great moustache died and neither of the men could think of anything to say. McCoy opened his mouth to say something, then stopped and left the long and frankly awkward silence.

Mermle rubbed the smooth skin on his upper lip. It’d take at least a month to grow it back.

Kaishai
Nov 3, 2010

Scoffing at modernity.

flerp posted:

MERRY CHRISTMAS KAISHAI HERE IS MY MOUSTACHE MERMAN STORY FROM THAT EUROVISION WEEK

It's a beautiful Christmas meracle.

SkaAndScreenplays
Dec 11, 2013

by FactsAreUseless


sebmojo posted:

This was really pretty extremely bad and would probably have lost/DMd (maybe it did, idk). the core of the story, dude is visited by old buddy on other side, fight occurs, old buddy swaps side, is adequate if agonisingly cliche but you don't come close to pulling it off. A few nice lines in there, and I like some of the images.
I don't disagree on most of this:

sebmojo posted:

“Clive!” He bellowed. A warm smile barely visible behind his beard. bad sentence fragment¹ “How does this place treat you my friend?”

“Better than your barber has,” I laughed as he pulled me into a warm hug, “I swear the only thing thicker than your accent these days is your facial hair.” lolol yes let us have banter, fellow human being²
¹You are not wrong here. Bad me. Most of this story is bad me...

THAT SAID:

²The friendship between these two is the sturdy foundation of an otherwise lovely story, that friendship is conveyed in their conversation.

Mistakes with punctuation aside the back and forth makes these two feel real.

Step into my dojo mojo...

BRAAAWWWWLLL!

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

Cracks knuckles, makes come at me bro motion w/fingers

SkaAndScreenplays
Dec 11, 2013

by FactsAreUseless


Cracks neck without using hands, because badass...

flerp
Feb 25, 2014


sebmojo posted:

Cracks knuckles, makes come at me bro motion w/fingers



SkaAndScreenplays posted:

Cracks neck without using hands, because badass...


ska and mojoplays

write me a story about a dragon, and no metaphorical dragons, a for real dragon and the dragon needs to be a big part of the story. the story cannot be fantasy or sci-fi.

1500 words

due january 2nd, 2017 11:59 pm pst

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

Thunderdome Week CCXXX: Slaying the Cursed Yearking



hey thunderdome. it's been a hell of a year, hasn't it? there's been like explosions and political carnage and dead celebrities for miles, just stacking up like well-coiffed cordwood.

but 2017, that's going to be a new year and new years are like new beginnings, and to make a new beginning you need RESOLUTION.

for this week, the last foetid sputter of wordjizz from 2016, you'll go to this page and pick a new years resolution that will have some relevance to your story, and announce it with your signup post. you can pick one that's not on there, too, i don't really care i'm like the world in that respect.

i guess we'll assign one too if your christmas-meat-bloated fingers are too sluggish to reach the keyboard.

unfortunately according to the Mayan scrolls we are all still labouring under the dark constellations and are therefore cursed. to recognise this a judge will also assign you a CURSED IMAGE that must be a part of your story in some way.

forwards! into the future! gogogo!

Deadlines
announce your challenge to the uncaring heavens by Friday, 30 Dec @ 23:59 PST.
cast your runes by Sunday, 1 Jan @ 23:59 PST

Wordcount: 1250 words.

Curselords
sebmojo
sittinghere
steeltoedsneakers



Cursebreakers

Skaandscreenplays: get famous
Flerp: rekindle friendship
Sparksbloom: go for a daily walk
BeefSupreme fight father time
Thranguy get insurance
Chili stop twerking
Boaz-Jachim stop hating myself
Hawklad go to the dentist
Benny Profane: Get or get rid of a tattoo
katdicks: Quit farting so much
Entenzahn: Stop procrastinating
Krunge: get a mentor
Quoproquid: Encourage my kids more
Blue Wher: Get a pet


dreadmojo fucked around with this message at Dec 28, 2016 around 10:15

SkaAndScreenplays
Dec 11, 2013

by FactsAreUseless


IN
Get Famous

quote:

It’s easier now than ever before to become an overnight sensation. Whether you just want your 15 minutes of fame, or you want to be a bona fide celebrity, start brainstorming how you can make it happen. It could take just one viral video, or you might need to go get head shots and an agent, but you can do it!

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk


flerp
Feb 25, 2014


in Nowadays it’s easier than ever to find old friends and strike up a new conversation with them. It often happens that two people can drift apart for no good reason, and it just takes one of them to rekindle things.

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

flerp posted:

in Nowadays it’s easier than ever to find old friends and strike up a new conversation with them. It often happens that two people can drift apart for no good reason, and it just takes one of them to rekindle things.

sparksbloom
Apr 30, 2006


In with Go For a Daily Walk.

quote:

This can have positive effects on many aspects of your life, and aside from the fresh air and health benefits you might find that it’s therapeutic in itself, and can serve as a sort of mobile meditation. You don’t even have to walk briskly, or along the same route every day.

BeefSupreme
Sep 14, 2007

DOUBLE BEEF ACTION

In. I'm ready to Fight Father Time.


quote:

Just because you’re getting older doesn’t mean you have to let it show. There are all sorts of new procedures and products aimed at waging war against aging. Don’t go down without a fight and keep those youthful good looks as long as you can!

Thranguy
Apr 21, 2010

'Read over your compositions, and when you meet a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.' -Samuel Johnson

In with Get Insurance

quote:

Whether it’s renter’s insurance, homeowner’s insurance, car insurance, or life insurance, there is a certain peace of mind knowing that you’re covered in an unexpected event.

Chili
Jan 23, 2004

College kids ain't shit


Grimey Drawer

In.

Stop Twerking

Boaz-Jachim
Sep 20, 2015

CANERE CORAM LEONE


In the new year I will stop hating myself.

Hawklad
May 3, 2003


Who wants to live
forever?


DIVE!

College Slice

I'm IN and I swear this is the year that I Go to the Dentist

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

sparksbloom posted:

In with Go For a Daily Walk.




dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

BeefSupreme posted:

In. I'm ready to Fight Father Time.

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

Thranguy posted:

In with Get Insurance

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

Chili posted:

In.

Stop Twerking

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

Boaz-Jachim posted:

In the new year I will stop hating myself.

dreadmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

Hawklad posted:

I'm IN and I swear this is the year that I Go to the Dentist

Benny Profane
Feb 23, 2012



In.

Get a Tattoo/Get Rid of a Tattoo

katdicks
Dec 27, 2013

SO BIG

In with quit farting so much. Because there are real problems facing our society today, and they all have to do with poots.

Entenzahn
Nov 15, 2012

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


In w/ Get ‘er Done (Stop Procrastinating)

Jon Joe
Oct 19, 2011

HELP! I'VE FAILED AND I CAN'T SUBMIT


Grimey Drawer

In with Get a Mentor

quote:

If you’ve got a big goal you’re trying to accomplish this year, find someone that already has what you want and try to learn as much as you can from them. Often we’re too proud to get advice, but this can be the biggest shortcut to getting what you want that goes largely overlooked by goal seekers.

steeltoedsneakers
Jul 26, 2016


Benny Profane posted:

In.

Get a Tattoo/Get Rid of a Tattoo

steeltoedsneakers
Jul 26, 2016


katdicks posted:

In with quit farting so much. Because there are real problems facing our society today, and they all have to do with poots.

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

steeltoedsneakers
Jul 26, 2016


Entenzahn posted:

In w/ Get ‘er Done (Stop Procrastinating)

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