Register a SA Forums Account here!
JOINING THE SA FORUMS WILL REMOVE THIS BIG AD, THE ANNOYING UNDERLINED ADS, AND STUPID INTERSTITIAL ADS!!!

You can: log in, read the tech support FAQ, or request your lost password. This dumb message (and those ads) will appear on every screen until you register! Get rid of this crap by registering your own SA Forums Account and joining roughly 150,000 Goons, for the one-time price of $9.95! We charge money because it costs us $3,400 per month for bandwidth bills alone, and since we don't believe in shoving popup ads to our registered users, we try to make the money back through forum registrations.
«10 »
  • Locked thread
Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Hundreds of authors. Thousands of stories. Over 4 million words. The blood the blood the bloo


Thunderdome 2012
Thunderdome 2013
Thunderdome 2014
Thunderdome 2015

CLICK HERE FOR CURRENT PROMPT

What is Thunderdome?

Thunderdome is a mean, bloody, no-holds-barred weekly flash fiction contest where the judges are harsh and the critiques are barbed. It’s a place for people who are ready to have the weakness and bad prose suctioned out of their bodies with a shop vac.


I'd like to sacrifice my lovely prose to the lovely prose gods. How do I participate?

Most wildly successful writers start by reading the goddamned prompt post. Generally, these self-starters will include a post that says ‘In’, or some such, to indicate their intention to write a story.

The prompt post will include indispensable information including, but not limited to, the signup deadline, the submission deadline, the allotted word count, and the prompt itself. Sometimes the prompt is a bit of abstract inspiration, sometimes it’s a rigorous set of rules designed to challenge participants. Sometimes the prompt involves sparkly mermen, because let’s face it, writers take themselves way too loving seriously.

Once you’ve made your ‘in’ post (by the signup deadline in the prompt post), it’s your job to write the least terrible story you can think of by the submission deadline.

No editing your story once you’ve posted it! As soon as you hit ‘submit’, a massive orbital fist is aimed strategically at your rear end in a top hat. Anyone who edits a submission post gets a fistin’ (and is disqualified for the week).

The winner of the week becomes the next bossjudge, and the cycle of futile suffering continues.


Who gives me my participation trophy?

Thunderdome judges may give out a number of mentions each week. There is always a winner, and nearly always a loser. Participants may also receive an honorable mention, if their story was in contention for the win, or a dishonorable mention if they barely avoided a loss.

Losers get a free avatar!



A note on losing: So, you hosed up, much to no one’s surprise. Anyone who’s lost will tell you, we all have that lip-quivering, misty-eyed moment of oh god, I’m terrible, I should quit writing forever!! While these are, to some extent, normal writer thoughts, it’s important to remember that a loss in Thunderdome is not an indictment of your potential or capacity as a writer. You should be asking yourself, “Why did three people think my story sucked?” Giving up forever or screaming about how the judges just don’t ‘get’ you are also options, but not advisable ones.

Thunderdome has generated more than 9,000 critiques, so even if you faceplant on your first entry, stick around! Someone will be more than happy to tell you exactly what you hosed up, and how to fix it. You probably won’t listen the first 30 times, which is why Thunderdome is a weekly flash fiction contest! You can bash your head against that brick wall as many times as it takes. Think of it as a sort of trepanation procedure for your terrible writing habits.

The judges will be there to shout at you every step of the way.


On Judging (Or: Oh god I won, what do I do???)

Ius Iudicis: Judge’s right, judge’s responsibility, judge’s law

The very first thing you should do as a brand new judge is read this page If you don’t post the next prompt very soon after judgment, goons will make mean GIFs about you and generally shart up the thread like big lovely babies.

Judges should be prepared to read anywhere from fifteen to thirty thousand words in about two days. It’s not terribly hard, but this IS goon fiction you’re reading, so it will be heartily terrible. If you absolutely can’t manage this, and have a very very good reason, you can probably abdicate your bossjudge duties to someone else. But why would you pass over the opportunity to make goons’ lives hell for a week?

Judges should also be prepared to give some sort of feedback in the form of critiques. Even just a few sentences will do, though more elaborate, thoughtful critique is always welcome.

Please participate in at least a few weeks of Thunderdome before you offer to co-judge.

And finally,

quote:

Three shalt be the number of judges, and the number of judges shall be three.
Four shalt not judge, nor either shall those judging number two, excepting that thou then include a third.
Five is right out.


I’m a dumb baby who knows everything about nothing, who can I pester with more questions?

Lots of fun stuff, including some judging, happens over IRC. We have a few rules.

  • The channel is for Thunderdome participants. We don’t mind curious folks popping in to say hello, but if you haven’t ever signed up for Thunderdome and don’t plan to do so in the near future, it’s probably not the channel for you.
  • Writing a single, token entry and then lurking the channel forever and ever will probably earn you a kick, eventually.
  • Don’t be a lovely idiot. Don’t creep on anyone.

You can find us in #Thunderdome on SynIRC. You can also PM Sittinghere over IRC if you have any questions.


What’s some other important poo poo I’m going to forget/ignore??

  • DON’T RESPOND TO CRITIQUES IN THIS THREAD! If you really want to talk shop about a Thunderdome entry, move the discussion to either the Fiction Advice thread or the Fiction Farm.

  • Funny shitposting is welcome. Unfunny shitposting is just unfunny shiposting, don’t do it!!

  • Part of Thunderdome is the idea of kayfabe. While you certainly don’t have to participate in it, a bit of showmanship now and then keeps things fun and shows us just how brassy your balls are. Also, it keeps us from crawling too far up our own asses.

  • Whining, griping, blithering and dithering are all frowned upon. Do not be a blubbering unweened tittybaby. Take your lumps and learn from them.

  • No fanfiction or erotica unless you want to be mercilessly ridiculed forever and ever.

  • Don’t post a preface to your story. Your submission post should contain your title, your word count, and a story. Sometimes judges will ask you to include your prompt before your story (or, for example, if you got any flashrules).

  • Do NOT post your story in quote tags. I have no idea why people do this, but they do, and it’s bad.

  • If you fail to submit, consider ing next time you sign up. This isn’t a rule, but it will make you seem slightly less like a terrible failure.

  • Most things in Thunderdome are flexible and open to interpretation, much like writing! I’ve outlined the rules of the thread to get you started, but one of Thunderdome’s creeds is “Do what you will, and face the consequences.”

  • IMPORTANT NOTE: Once the thread gets goldmined, there is no way to remove your stories. In some cases, this could make them ineligible for publication. Please remove any stories you might want to publish from the thread before the end of the calendar year, because once we close it, there’s no take-backsies.

Sitting Here fucked around with this message at Dec 28, 2016 around 05:27

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

sebmojo posted:

on brawling by sebmojo



brawling what so someone said something mean about your personal hygiene, sex-bits or maybe even your story and your bottom lip is doing that quivery thing and you feel like you can’t go a single second more without punching a motherfucker? thunderdome has just the thing. have a seat. don’t mind the lymph-spikes, they only hurt going in.

you can’t fight here it’s the Thunderdome when two people hate each other very much, and one of them is you, you get to slap down a challenge. make it big, make it brassy; you’re slapping your balls down on the bar, try and make ‘em bounce a little.

help someone's slapped me with something help accepting brawl challenges isn’t required, but if you’re the sort to sling the poo poo around (and that’s a fine sort to be) then failing to back up your bad words with good ones will be remembered. once you’ve thrown down a challenge, and had it accepted, a brawl judge will step up just like that weird bartender in The Shining. they’ll give you a prompt, a word count and a deadline. they’ll also, and this is real important, state the . this means if you fail to submit by the deadline then you get banned. the judge doesn’t need to give you an extension.

what do you mean banned brawl toxxes aren’t obligatory, but they are expected. if you’re actually a literal secret agent and you’ve just discovered you’re parachuting into Syria in two hours time then get on irc, snivel at your judge and maybe they’ll remove the toxx from the prompt, but expect that to be a one-time mercy if you gently caress it up.

anything else?
  • don’t challenge anyone until you’ve done a few rounds, good grudges take time to fester
  • don’t step up to judge a brawl unless you’ve at least got an HM or the participants have asked you to
  • declining a random drive-by brawl is more acceptable than one with a grudge behind it. this place runs on words, and hatred, and you gotta fuel the fire

is that it yes, fight well you horrible monsters

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Broenheim posted:

it's a new thread so i think this needs to be said

hey sh you're dumb and you write bad and overall my opinion of you is subpar so brawl me

but i don't disagree so why would i want to fight about it?

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

ladies and gentlemen, for 2016 I bring you...anti-kayfabe

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

in, glitch me please, GP

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Broenheim posted:

it's a new thread so i think this needs to be said

hey sh you're dumb and you write bad and overall my opinion of you is subpar so brawl me

Entenzahn posted:

also i'm brawling sh

she knows what she did

klapman posted:

My head hurts, i'm sick as gently caress, my throat is dry no matter how much water I drink. My life is misery and my writing is worse. I figure that's enough of a handicap, so in addition to the prompt, I'll take any one of you motherfuckers on. If you want an easy kill, and you're stupid enough to see one in me, let's rock.

quote:

schneiderheim> also sh if you decide to brawl you can fite me

Okay. You know what. I've clearly got a lot of septic fiction to work out of my system, but it would still smell like roses next to anything this gaggle of baby-fisted jokers could possibly inflict on the world.

Who is bold enough to judge the first melee of 2016?

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry




If I win, crabrock has to be pleasant for a whole week

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

crabrock posted:

nah, this isn't a brawl, it's a fake week now.

but without the possibility of losing, so basically it's TD for cowards.

do you ever find cows licking you crab

b/c you're very salty

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Thranguy posted:

Also, the floor on this new thread is too clean and dry. Needs blood. So if you two won't (and, for that matter, even if you do), I'ma brawl Specters. He knows why.


spectres of autism posted:

the only blood on the floor will be yours

im a ghost and dont even have blood but that wont be the reason

SPECTRES OF THRANGISM BRAWL

I love nothing more than sitting down with a platter of meats and cheeses. I love red wine. These things make life much better IMO. For your brawl, you can write about whatever you want, with one stipulation: the climactic moment of your story must take place during some sort of decadent meal. I want vivid descriptions that make my mouth water. I better tastes the herbs on that roasted duck and the lemon in that cake. Make me hungry!

Wordcount: 2,000
Due date: Wednesday, January 13th, 2016 at 11:59:59 PST

Post your es if you accept.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

recaps!

Hello goons. I have another batch of recaps for you! Two whole episodes, in fact.

Here's the recap for weeks 171 and 172 and here are the Archive links if you'd like to follow along.

We cover the DMs and losers from both weeks, talk a bit about chronology in fiction, and ponder seal vandalism. The episode wraps up with a reading of ZeBourgeoisie's I Can't Believe it's Mort! Which is worth a listen if only for Ironic Twist's butter voice.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE

Recap for week 173

Archive link

The recap crew's own Kaishai was bossjudge for week 173, so we discussed her hopes and disappointments in pilgrim week. We take a detailed look at the DMs and loser, and the episode finishes with a really fun reading of C7ty1's Dormant Faith

Thanks again any/everyone who listens. These recaps are pretty much an amateur labor of love, but it's been and continues to be really fun to talk about your guys every week.

More fun:

pre:
Episode								Recappers

Week 156:  LET'S GET hosed UP ON LOVE				Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Djeser
Week 157:  BOW BEFORE THE BUZZSAW OF PROGRESS			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 158:  LIKE NO ONE EVER WAS					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Djeser
Week 159:  SINNERS ORGY						Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 160:  Spin the wheel!					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 161:  Negative Exponents					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 36:  Polishing Turds -- A retrospective special!		Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and The Saddest Rhino
Week 162:  The best of the worst and the worst of the best	Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and The Saddest Rhino
Week 163:  YOUR STUPID poo poo BELONGS IN A MUSEUM			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai
Week 164:  I Shouldn't Have Eaten That Souvlaki			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai
Week 165:  Back to School					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 166:  Comings and Goings					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 167:  Black Sunshine					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 168:  She Stole My Wallet and My Heart			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 169:  Thunderdome o' Bedlam				Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 170:  Cities & Kaiju					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai

(Eternal thank you to Kaishai for doing this)

Sitting Here fucked around with this message at Jan 7, 2016 around 02:49

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Jeza posted:

In with “Fix walkable area in subway so Dropsy can't walk beyond the darkness.”

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

You've done a glorious thing


SurreptitiousMuffin posted:


The year is 1985.
England, Shropshire, Rock, boys eighteen years old entering the hollow cache. Moss cover "do not enter" sign above the entrance is hardly read, eat up the time did not wear well. They ignore it. Olmert basement shelter was perfect for them. James and Richard was the ideal, and that means the only place where they can be themselves.
Rock, famous for its ancient Romanian `s effects and little else was hardly a stronghold of tolerance. Quiet little village with a piss poor job markets rarely are. Two young boys in love can not be open about their desires in such a place without risk. Dear tall, muscular and athletic, James and Richard attention that I got from the local girls.
But school janitor needy with his blue eyes and gaunt face also appreciated their appearance. Attention from gay like him knows they can ill afford. In short, things can be better for them. Thank God they knew they always had each other and the cellar hollow. He would have to do when they graduate.
Spring was in full blast thrill intercourse when he visited a shelter for the last time. Flourished nature, the green, moist and full of song birds. The green hills east of Rock in everyway sigh paradise, not including needle disposal strange or empty beer can. It seemed so magical sky, dotted with puffy white clouds and wearing the color of Caesar. Fortunately it withheld the bunker behind trees and did not prejudice the romantic visage.
Inside the cellar James Richard gently pushed away No, not yet, work before pleasure remember? Not even a little kiss? --- Well, maybe just on ... and kisses, he was quick, and it was sweet.
- Now to the task at hand, she said James pulled away. Lying upside down in a concrete room sparse and bike from Richard. It lacks to the front wheels, it has the old hosed got so bad, especially after the fall ,. To buy a new wheel is likely to be the best, but it was not Richard James or a lot of money to spare. And despised Richard to spend a small school janitor eloquent pay him "favors" unless absolutely necessary. Instead, the two boys gradually managed to cobble together a decent edge and fit it with the speaker. Simply stole the tires off the bike cleaners, in exchange for his very eyes. What was he supposed to do, go to the police? They had hoped to do as a new wheel.
After a lot of cursing and sweating inside rushed toward the cellar finally made the wheel fit the bike frame. It looked safe anyway.
- It seems fine. I want to give it a go, Richard?
- You know what I want, hehe.
- Dead serious, ride down the slope to see how it handles. We may need to make some adjustments.
Richard picked up the bike and smiled. - Yes Yes I heard you, if what makes you happy.
From I just want to be safe with that wheel. Richard walked outside and sat on the bike. -I Know you do.
Richard began to roll down the hill of the hill, in the mid bike began to shake and rumble. When he approached the first bend in the road front wheel touched the hole in a small way, in the same wheel collapsed and the inside edge of the joints held together came apart violently. And remote Richard his bike and fell off the road, where the fastest ever fell down the slope. Run as fast as you can find James sweetheart lying at the foot of the hill. His body is still completely in spite of a large forged bleeding from his thigh where a piece of bone protruding from his flesh. As soon as James got his own terrible curse. He could barely stand when Richard finally arrived. Red blood was dark horrible disgusting, it was rigged down some grown. Shamble like a man drunk James tried to get away but quickly fell to the bottom. Make the blood dizzy him, made him feel like he was drowning, his grip on him breathe. Blood in the blood notebook ..
James lost consciousness. When he came to the sky was a little bit darker and cooler air in. His mistress and placed in the same place as before, the land now lying bull draped with dark red color and Richard same pale strange. Such as paper or snow or something.
Between getting up Richard, please, we have to get on your bike fixed. Let's dead, get up.
Richard, please, you have to get on top!
After several weeks after Richard had been buried in the church of St. Andrews, James found himself outside the camps yellow cart. Standing in the door in his shovel and with a beer in his hand and the school janitor. Simply he said, with a smile, so it`s just you and me now in this, and come to work have you?
- Pay me what you have given the weakness of Richard and the use of condoms silly, second and I'll do what you want.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

"signs and books will destroy the world after a while. Don't use or have them." (+200 words)

Sign Language
1322 words

Mackenzie Martin wants to ask Walter Bliven to prom, but it’s complicated. Though she’s not aware of it, Mackenzie is little more than a sliver of frequency trembling in the structure of a quantum crystal. Her great grandparents were the last flesh-and-blood humans to exist anywhere, because the universe is dead. What lives on is shadow puppetry inside an inscrutable machine operating in its lowest possible energy state.

The thing about being a simulated teenage girl at the end of the universe is, your world is fragile. It’s malleable. For example, Mackenzie can’t pass Walter Bliven a note saying will you go to prom with me? because then she and Walter would both experience the word ‘you’. To Mackenzie, ‘you’ is Walter, and to Walter, ‘you’ is Mackenzie. The slow-minded puppetmaster AI that controls their world just can’t cope with the contradiction.

Of course, it would never occur to Mackenzie to ask Walter to prom in a note, because she’s never heard of language. Mackenzie was born and raised in a world of pure meaning; when she’s sad, she emotes translucent blue waves of emotion of anyone nearby. When she’s happy, she exudes frollicking piano and pictures of green leaves tinted gold by afternoon sun. But when she’s in class with Walter Bliven, she can’t exude anything except a grey fog.


A simulated high school inside a quantum crystal looks pretty much like any high school from the twenty-first or twenty-second century. There are halls, lockers, classrooms, a gym and a cafeteria. When Mackenzie’s great grandparents copied themselves into the machine, they decided the setting should be from humanity’s pre-interstellar days, when people only knew life on Earth, and liked it that way. Mackenzie’s astronomy class describes a cozy universe where Earth is orbited by a sun and a moon inside a black shell spattered with stars like luminescent cave fungus.

She’s there now, in 2nd period astronomy, watching Walter instead of the rigid, sterile emotes of the teacher. Walter is sitting with his back straight and his eyes forward. Every so often, he emotes a flash of understanding, and is shrouded in beautiful, abstract shapes that swirl around him like runes etched from pure meaning. Mackenzie could watch Walter grasp the basics of universal constants for days.

She’s not the only one. The classroom is populated by fleeting Walter-specters, the fantasies of other girls and guys infatuated with Walter’s good looks and captivating emotes. Mackenzie is sometimes thankful for the fog of grey shyness that hides her attraction; filtering thoughts doesn’t come easily to teenagers. She can’t imagine what it would be like to be so popular and so desired that, wherever you went, you had to see the ghost of yourself acting out first kisses and first dates and who knows what else. She feels a wave of pity for Walter that’s so strong it fills the classroom with the smell of fallen rain on dead grass.

The teacher pauses his lecture to emote concern for Mackenzie. She shakes her head emphatically; she doesn’t trust herself to emote, not with the whole class’s attention on her. Walter turns around in his seat to look at her, one perfect eyebrow raised inquisitively, and Mackenzie disappears completely into her grey fog.


In the break between periods, Mackenzie flees to the farthest, most empty hallway of the school. She’s got to get it together. Walter is in her 3rd period history class, too, and the last thing she needs to make another big scene.

A coppery tendril of curiosity snakes over her shoulder. Mackenzie whirls around, finds Walter looking at her with that same inquisitive eyebrow quirk. He emotes a quick explanation: he thought she seemed upset, so he followed her. His worry is like the smell of baking cookies to Mackenzie, and she’s pretty sure she can die happy now. But the sugary burst of pleasure she emits is quickly snuffed out by the same old grey cloud. She shrugs at him and spreads her hands in a helpless gesture.

Walter takes a tentative step toward her, a look of concentration on his face. He emotes a grey cloud, much like Mackenzie’s, then slowly, gently pulls it aside with his hands.

I want to know you, the gesture says.


And so a new high school power couple is born. It takes Mackenzie a while to get used to the constant barrage of jealousy and curiosity. She’s never been much of a topic of conversation, but now her ghost is everywhere.

It’s prom night, and Mackenzie wraps herself tightly around Walter’s arm. Other students are gleefully fantasizing about her tripping in her high heels or getting into some melodramatic fight with Walter on the dance floor. She tries to rise above it and emote happy things, instead of the venom she feels toward her jealous classmates. Walter is more accustomed to the attention, and does his best to shield them both inside crackling, savory feelings of excitement, and the thick, velvety mist of romance.

Soon, it’s pretty clear their fellow students aren’t going to let the couple have a good time. The dance floor is a spectral nightmare of ghost Mackenzies and ghost Walters, and none of the emotes are kind. Mackenzie’s despair and embarrassment is like a glumly tolling bell, so Walter leads her away from the dance floor, out of the school gym, and into the dark, sleepy halls. They reach a locked door that exudes an artificial emote: Maintenance Only. The feeling from the door is so strong that Mackenzie tugs at Walter’s arm, but he only grins and holds up a key. He doesn’t choose to express how he found the key, just fits it in the lock and opens the door.

A staircase leads them onto the school’s roof. There’s an assortment of rakes, shovels, and paint cans, as well as a stunning view of the town and the black, star-studded shell of the world. Mackenzie and Walter stand there for a while, hand in hand, exulting in each other’s soft, affectionate emotes. Mackenzie’s eyes fall on one of the paint cans. Its lid is askew, like it’s been opened. She sees the glint of wet paint inside, then looks around at the dry permanence of the paint on the school’s exterior.

She wants to commemorate her first love, somehow. If she’d been a flesh and blood girl born on long-dead Earth, she might’ve painted

MM
<3
WB

in some discreet spot on the school roof, like an emblem of love for future couples to find. But she has no concept of symbols-as-meaning. People can project their feelings and thoughts, and some objects can even be imbued with rudimentary emotes, but the silent, ubiquitous AI simply cannot account for the potential contradictions inherent in the written word.

Mackenzie, unlike most other simulated people, is descended from the patterns of the last two humans to ever exist in a physical form. Perhaps she carries some overlooked vestige of their penchant for language. She doesn’t understand why she dips her finger in the paint, doesn’t understand why she kneels down in her dress and draws a complicated mark on the roof. But it feels right. She looks up at Walter, points at the mark, then at herself, as if to say, this is me. I am this.

She gestures that he should do the same, even goes so far as to take his hand and gently help him dip his finger into the paint can. Walter is thrumming with curiosity and confusion, but he doesn’t stop her. She points again at her mark, then herself. She points at Walter’s paint-darkened finger, then taps him on his chest, just above his heart.

Finally, understanding lights up his eyes, and Walter grins as he draws an elaborate series of swirls beside Mackenzie’s symbol. Both stand up and inspect their handiwork. Their fingers twine together, and their joined hands are smeared with paint.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

One of you miserable failures should at least step up and judge, or something, if we don't already have a 3rd judge.

this is a recap post

Hello again goons. This is another recap. This time, Kaishai, Djeser, Ironic Twist and myself take a look at week 174--Nonsense week!

The recap

Archive link for those who'd like to follow along.

As usual, we take a special look at the DMs and loser, featuring a sickeningly saccharine reading of Silmarildur's entry, Sugarplum Fairyland Home for the Insufficiently Exuberant. This is an episode for anyone who wants to hear Ironic Twist bleed from his eyes and ears (that should be all of you), and also some prolonged dick poetry.

More fun stuff:

Kaishai posted:

pre:
Episode								Recappers

Week 156:  LET'S GET hosed UP ON LOVE				Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Djeser
Week 157:  BOW BEFORE THE BUZZSAW OF PROGRESS			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 158:  LIKE NO ONE EVER WAS					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Djeser
Week 159:  SINNERS ORGY						Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 160:  Spin the wheel!					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 161:  Negative Exponents					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 36:  Polishing Turds -- A retrospective special!		Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and The Saddest Rhino
Week 162:  The best of the worst and the worst of the best	Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, Kaishai, and The Saddest Rhino
Week 163:  YOUR STUPID poo poo BELONGS IN A MUSEUM			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai
Week 164:  I Shouldn't Have Eaten That Souvlaki			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai
Week 165:  Back to School					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 166:  Comings and Goings					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 167:  Black Sunshine					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 168:  She Stole My Wallet and My Heart			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 169:  Thunderdome o' Bedlam				Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 170:  Cities & Kaiju					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, Djeser, and Kaishai
Week 171:  The Honorable THUNDERDOME CLXXI			Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai
Week 172:  Thunderdome Startup					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai
Week 173:  Pilgrim's Progress					Sitting Here, Ironic Twist, and Kaishai

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Lazy Beggar posted:

Christ. These are cathartic.

I laughed. Reminds me of HDTGM.

By the by, seal clubbing is legal. I found this out when I wrote A Sealed Fate. It's even subsidised by the Canadian government.

Thanks! And also

WeLandedOnTheMoon! posted:

Sitting Here, is there a reason why the recaps aren't posted as podcasts anymore? When I use my phone I can only download the first two that were posted. I know you answered this once on IRC, but I can't remember.

Honestly, I switched over to Soundcloud because of laziness, and because the platform I was using wouldn't let me upload more than an hour of material without extra effort. So I was having to edit stuff out and worry a lot about time. I guess last year Soundcloud did actually introduce some podcasting features, so in the next little bit I'll maybe submit the recaps to iTunes so people can access them that way. I mainly need a better profile picture for the page.

I cannot emphasize my laziness enough, though. Right now I have this great system of record, upload, post.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Chairchucker posted:

Sitting Here, a song please.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRcPA7Fzebw

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

BTW I will be assigning exclusively Bowie songs, hit me up for a flashrule if you want to get your Bowie on

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

crabrock posted:

i woulda judged this week, but since it's all fulled up, i gotsta go in. <3 Bowie.

give me a song, sittun hur

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4fFL4uU_RE

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Thranguy posted:

In, and Bowie me Sittinghere.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-m30aaI5Yf8

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

crabrock posted:

i woulda judged this week, but since it's all fulled up, i gotsta go in. <3 Bowie.

give me a song, sittun hur



Actually, I'm having a fit of caprice. Crabrock you can either do this song or "Lazarus" from Blackstar. You pick, IDK i like both and it's causing me a lot of conflict right now

Sitting Here fucked around with this message at Jan 12, 2016 around 09:11

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HvfhObm14Oc

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Bleusman posted:

In! I'll take a Bowie song, Sitting Here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v--IqqusnNQ

Lazy Beggar posted:

In and a song please, Sitting Here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LaT6oZOW0vo

Jeza posted:

Wrote bad story, now will write good story. In with a Bowie if you please.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSH--SJKVQQ

Ceighk posted:

In with some Bowie, please!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgPUxjQOk-w

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

WeLandedOnTheMoon! posted:

I wouldn't mind a bit of both tbh.

Twist or Curlingiron will give you one when they're about, don't worry.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

CaligulaKangaroo posted:

In.

Sitting Here, any chance I can get a Bowie song?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U16Xg_rQZkA

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

docbeard posted:

In with a and a Bowie song if you please, Sitting Here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dE4Mu_cZcIA

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Masonity posted:

After running out of time last week and basically spewing out something that would have struggled in a benny the snake week, it's only right I throw my hat back in the ring. Nothing to lose now!

Give me some Bowie love too please sittinghere. Three times the words might mean I can write something three times as bad?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPVrFIP0CMs

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

ghost crow posted:

I'm in with a , and I'll take a Bowie song as well if they're still available.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tgcc5V9Hu3g


I was supposed to relentlessly own you for picking your song like some sort of Mr. Fancy Pants but actually I'll give this a pass.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

SkaAndScreenplays posted:

In
And I'll take a Bowie from whomever the first to provide it is.

EDIT:
If SittingHere is promising Bowie I want my song from SittingHere.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JiN32EkbqT8

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

If anyone is on the fence about signing up and wants a Bowie song, I have preselected a few. First come, first served.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q2y9inP4CqE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-AMec7yr7c

^^^I REALLY want someone to do this one so you will get brownie points from me if you grab and write something cool.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Gy94N_mcWs

^^^ No lyrics so this is like the double black diamond of prompt songs but it's v good

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1Z2pk5J9Ng

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Hey goons! The judges will be reading and reacting to your stories LIVE AND IN COLOR this Sunday. So if you need a bit of incentive to not procrastinate until the deadline, this is it. If you want to watch the stream, please be in #Thunderdome around 6PM PST for the link. We will be reading in Judgmode, meaning we won't know who's who, so it should be a ton of fun.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Spectres of Thrangism brawl judgment

Thranguy

Your story was the more traditional of the two. It had an easily identifiable arc and its primary characters had distinct motivations. You definitely went all out with the food; not only did you make it central to your conflict, you were pretty lavish with the details. You succeeded in making me hungry. There were some clever things that could've been really clever things. I liked the thing with the "feast of the whole"; the way you worked it into the eating contest and then the multi-layered revenge plot was good. I would compare it to ASoFaI or something, but we're all sick of that series so I won't. The problem, I think, is that Charlotte didn't have enough screen time. She's mentioned in passing, but all of the important info about her character's motivations is kind of crammed into the end. I hate to say it, but you could've cut down on some of delectable feasting. I don't know if Charlotte's betrayal needed to be foreshadowed, per se, but she needed to be more of an active character in the story.

Spectres

This was...abstract. Your protagonist felt truly alien; unfortunately, so did her motivations. The frustrating thing, is I was almost with you. Almost. Like, there are so many individual elements of this story that I really love. The way you had this alien being kind of materialize into the body/life of a human girl was really good. Like, that transition from the surreal to the mundane was good enough that I actually smiled while I was reading it. While I didn't quite understand all of the things happening in the story, I felt sympathy for the character. Like, the imagery in this is so loving vague (very cool, but vague), but there's this relatable sense of alienation. Everyone else is cool with their blood (BTW I really like how you combine your sort of casual voice with your narrative voice), and they're existing in this dream sea with pleasant abandon. They frolic around in shallow places, concerning themselves with frivolous thoughts and social status. The scene where she goes down into the depths is ambiguous. It seems like kind of a good thing for the protagonist; you get the sense that the creatures who live down there communicate more...meaningfully? But the protagonist somehow contaminates the space by bringing her doubts and surface-level concerns with her. She finds herself momentarily in the body of a human girl who's disappointed her family. That's probably my favorite bit of the whole story. There's not much in the way of context, but it's a compelling scene. It's kind of a nice oasis in the middle of all this abstraction.

So here's the thing, Spectres. I believe in your writing like, hardcore. I think you have all these huge ideas, and I think you are steadily finding ways to ground them in concrete, relatable stories. I want to swim in oceans of pure meaning and memetic sharing with you. And I think you are well on your way there. This story didn't quite give me enough to grab onto; other than the scene at the dinner table, I felt a little bit lost. I was trying to describe my feelings about your writing to another domer today, and it's like, I feel like I'm watching a really really good film with an awesome soundtrack, but the picture is out of focus. You dig? But you are slowly turning those knobs, and the picture is getting clearer. I feel like, in a couple years (maybe sooner!), you will probably be a powerhouse of a writer.

The Verdict

Ultimately, this brawl comes down to clarity versus ideas. I think Thranguy told the more deliberate, clear story, and so the brawl victory goes to him. But I was pleasantly surprised by the very distinct, different ways you addressed the prompt, which wasn't the easiest prompt I could've given.

Sitting Here fucked around with this message at Jan 17, 2016 around 01:25

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Livecrits are go! See #Thunderdome for the link

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

In and my sport is capture the flag

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

God Over Djinn posted:

flash rule: Sitting Here, who joined team MER only to (attempt to) kick Ironic Twist's rear end, and who is known to dip his pigtails into her inkwell from time to time if you get what i'm sayin', will also be subject to this flash rule. Plus more flash rules for anybody else who already has a nemesis in mind, although reasonable requests will be happily accommodated.

Twist's best quality is how easy it is to own him tbh

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

All WINNERS (merman) please report to #TeamMermans

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Sitting Here posted:

Okay. You know what. I've clearly got a lot of septic fiction to work out of my system, but it would still smell like roses next to anything this gaggle of baby-fisted jokers could possibly inflict on the world.


Mercedes posted:


Alright you fuckwits. This was a good brawl - mostly. Everyone brought their A game *cough* and wrote entertaining poo poo - mostly.
ENOUGH BULLSHIT, HERE'S THE WINNER!!!!

THE UNFORGETTABLE PRICK


I rest my case.

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

blackmarketlimb posted:

Crabrock was going to beat the poo poo out of a Howitzer.

He rolled up off the beach of Normandy with the booming gun still in his ears. He'd show those loving German guns, by God, or he wasn't a failure of science that resulted in a rock formation sprouting crab legs and pinchers that could snip the dick off a whale at three thousand paces.

So on he scuttled, the German guns turning the sand in his wake into a blasted landscape that looked more alien than the distant surface of the moon. Allied troops fell around him, but still he did not stop. He had only eyes for that squat gun on a distant hillside that belched artillery.

He effortlessly beheaded a Nazi sergeant on his way and sat his rear end right on the neck stump, making the corpse into a hideous vehicle of flesh and bone that he navigated up a hill that was formerly lush with vegetation.

A platoon of Krauts fell before Crabrock's stolen MP40 before he crested the hill and he finally allowed his morbid ride crash to the ground so he could properly get down to business.

He picked up the Howitzer in his grasping claws and suplexed it so hard that it opened a crack in the hill that swallowed an entire bunker. The day was saved and fireworks exploded in the sky as Crabrock stood atop the wreckage of steel and lead, snapping his pinchers at the sky and the foolish God who would dare try to stop him.

(i have no idea what the gently caress a crabrock is so i winged it.)

woah you doxxed crabrock

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Take my opponent's words...

...and give them a really fair, thoughtful read, cause I'm sure we're all doing our best out here

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

Sitting Here
Dec 31, 2007


Blood Empress of Thunderdome

Tap to emit spores


Clapping Larry

Flag-Rush
1226 words (+33 from Grizzled Patriarch)

Raul clenched his fists through the first two rounds of the Olympic capture the flag finals. By round three, when it was his turn to take the field, his palms had matching rows of bloody crescents from his fingernails. The Americans were ahead, 1-0. Raul’s teammates had been able to beat the US back in the first round, resulting in a draw. Round two barely lasted ten minutes; the US team had cut through their defensive formations like a hot meat cleaver through clarified butter.

Raul stood in the Syrenian staging area with his cadre. Claudia was beside him, her eyes hard. The muscles in her neck and jaw flexed. There was the faint sound of grinding teeth.

Without looking at Raul, she said, “We’re hosed.”

“We’re gonna bring it back. We have to,” Raul said. He just wanted to be out on the field, where there wasn’t time for speculation or anxiety. The physical need for victory was basically more than he could comprehend. It ballooned outward from somewhere deep in his torso, a desire so visceral and tangible that surely it was going to explode out of him and send shards of his ribcage flying like splinters into the skin of everyone around him. He noticed himself breathing heavily and stopped.

“You should’ve been in round one,” Claudia said. Now she was eyeing him sidelong. “We sent out our solid closers too early. Jamil. Sayyid. Babette. No loving idea why Coach put you in prime time.”

“You’re trying to blame me for losing a game we haven’t even played yet,” Raul said flatly. The rest of the cadre was dead silent around them. They were all wearing the colors of the Syrenian flag--all black with a slash of sky blue and sea green--but the cohesion of the cadre was slipping. Their faces were closed. Everyone was holed up in their own private mental territories, guarding flags of hope or fear or despair.

“Look,” he said. “The Americans, they caught us unawares last time. But they know they can’t pull that off twice. Hey!” He clapped his hands over his head. “Listen to me. They’re expecting us to be cautious, defensive. So let’s say gently caress the playbook and go for an all-out blitz. Every single player in this room going after that red white and blue like it’s the gold medal itself.”

Murmurs from the rest of the cadre, most of them in agreeance. Claudia crossed her arms and smiled a bitter half-smile. “You’re dead set on running our chances into the ground, huh?”

“You think you want this more than me?” Raul said. They were standing nose to nose before he realized what was happening. Claudia didn’t move or flinch, and her expression was neutral except for the slightest twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

“I sure hope not,” she said.

A klaxon went off and the door to the arena slid up and open. The air was warm and the sky was bright. The Arkansan autumn smelled strange, the way that other people’s houses smell strange. The capture the flag arena was a walled-in square mile of artificially enlivened terrain. There were thick forests, man made creeks and ponds, and even a few hillsides covered in imported scree.

The Syrenian flag fluttered weakly at the top of one such hillside. Raul glared at it. The wind picked up, teasing the flag out to its full length. That’s better.

He started to run. Half a beat later, he heard footsteps behind him. A maniacal grin spread across his face and air whistled through his teeth as he lead the Syrenians straight into the heart of American territory.

Claudia was like an avenging angel on the CTF field. Her black ponytail streamed out behind her as she lept fallen logs, dodged confused Americans, and sent more than a few members of the US team to the penalty box. And where she could not be, there was Raul. Those she could not tag were tagged by Raul. They carved their way through the thick membrane of the American defense, until they found themselves alone in a quiet, unpatrolled patch of forest.

“Let’s take a breath and have a think,” Claudia said, leaning against a nearby tree that Raul didn’t have a name for. Its bark was white, almost silver, with deep gashes of black across its skin. Claudia lifted up her right leg, massaged her calf, and winced.

“I can’t loving believe we made it this--are you okay?” The wince didn’t escape Raul’s notice, and he frowned at her.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” she said. She planted both feet on the ground, hopped up and down. “See?”

There was the sound of running feet somewhere nearby, exclamations in English and Syrenian.

“Their flag can’t be more than a hundred meters north of here,” Claudia said. “We go. Now.”

She and Raul charged through the woods, side by side; if the honor of Syrena was a knife, they were its tip. For one bounding moment, Raul felt like a demon of the Wild Hunt, or a god of the wind. Then the forest gave way to an open field, and the Americans were on them.

The US flag waved insolently from the top of its mound. Raul could hear the collective breath of the US team like a storm behind him, could almost feel their hands snatching for him, though he didn’t chance a look back over his shoulder. Claudia pulled ever so slightly ahead of him. Raul made a decision.

He slowed down almost imperceptibly, then veered left. He heard Claudia shout something, but it was too late, the thing was done.

Three Americans, high on the chase, followed his new trajectory, leaving two on Claudia’s tail. He turned his head, just enough that he could see Claudia in his periphery, her strides almost preternaturally long, hurtling toward the flag like a bullet in black, green, and blue. He turned his head just enough that he missed the sixth American, directly in his path. He collided with the man, and then the US cadre was on him, literally on him, pinning him down with their bodies like they were playing American football. And through the tangle of their limbs he saw Claudia, no more than ten meters from the US flag, saw her right leg give out, saw her hit the rocky dirt face-first at full speed, saw the two Americans overtake her like cheetahs running down their kill.

Moments later, a klaxon rang out, announcing a US victory.

The Americans who’d tackled Raul got up slowly, backed away from him as though he were some wild animal. They didn’t cheer or congratulate each other, didn’t even look like they’d fully registered their own victory.

Raul’s ribs didn’t explode. The yearning for victory inside of him simply snuffed out, fragile as a candle flame. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and looked across the field at Claudia, who’d managed to pull herself into a seated position. Their eyes met, just for a moment, and shared a look like two ex-lovers who’ve just glimpsed each other aboard a crowded train.

She shook her head sharply and looked away.

Raul flopped over onto his back and looked up into the wide Arkansan sky, and it seemed to him that there was nothing in the world but blue.

  • Locked thread
«10 »