Mercedes posted:

Bromancers

I plan on judging this as fair as possible but for me to avoid the thread for a week is too much. So when you're finished with your story, please hand the story to Kaishai, our resident AI, and she'll post it for you.

crabrock posted:

oh look a bunch of brawls that nobody will submit to. awesome.

Sitting Here posted:

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

Julias posted:

For the record, I got lazy, and was originally going to do a serious story, but had to come up with 95% of this in an hour, so I was literally rushing to get this in before Midnight. I know it sucks, but that's what I get for procrastinating. Who knows. Maybe somebody will still like it.

God Over Djinn posted:

shhhhhhhhhhhh

Broenheim posted:

Word Bounty for Everyone Involved

my other ref is too nice. all this stuff about fans and friendship and bullshit. gently caress that poo poo, this is sports, were loving fighting each other 'cause there's only one person on the time that matters and that's you. everyone is loving morons who cant hit a ball. so then, i want you to write about why you think youre the best, why youre going to win this entire thing, and why everyone else youre playing against is poo poo and why the rest of your team should thank you for providing even a little bit of quality (up to 300 words). when you submit you must also do something else. you may either claim the words, or you may say that you want to delete some of your opponent's words. if you want the words put i want the words at the top and if you want to take the words put take my opponent's words at the top. then when im finished judging these ill tell you how many words you get (up to 100) or how many words youre opponents have lost (up to -100 words). this is going until midnight PST today, so get them in quick.

Broenheim posted:

and you. god damnit sh stop with this baby poo poo, -100 words to you unless you write some hard hitting poo poo instead of being all "love everyone" and stupid crap like that you baby queen.

Broenheim posted:

sebmojo - 1136 words with 134 given to thranguy

crabrock posted:

pizza party for team mermans when we win.

ghost crow posted:

I failed my toxx last time I entered because I am a wimp. I don't know how it works or how I report myself for banning so I can redeem myself.

Broenheim posted:

oh hey that's cool i guess, good thing u guys are putting a lot work in as judges trying to help everyone out its just uhhhh


huh

http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/critcounts.php?week=180

HUH


but it's alright, youre just following the time honored tradition of being lazy poo poo judges

http://writocracy.com/thunderdome/critcounts.php?week=179

i guess the judges had new year resolutions to be loving garbage. great work so far guys.

Ironic Twist posted:

And so Domegrassi Week ends as it began: with the salty tears of teenagers.

Titus82 posted:

Count me in.

...

Wait, was I supposed to come up with a word with in in it?

Boaz-Jachim posted:

Flash rule: Humans have lost the ability to harness heat of any sort, and no one knows why. Fires won't start, the sun no longer warms, and anything using steam or combustion (power plants, motors) no longer works. Your protagonist's motivation is righting a wrong.

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

i dont crabrock is a butt

Djeser posted:

No one will be upset if you use both well, but if you clearly tried to cram two stories worth of ideas into one story and don't do either one justice, then people are going to be upset.

As a rule of thumb, if you can pull it off, you'll get away with just about anything.

crabrock posted:

Meis posted:

Do not butt my buttting. I'll butt as buttly as i butt

newtestleper posted:

where is sittinghere's story

anime was right posted:

the order of judgment is home to three powerful thrones and in them sits: anime was right, sparksbloom

Benny Profane posted:

I want one extra word.

flerp posted:

S P E C T R E S B R A W L

749 words

Potatoes Aren’t Like Gold at All

A god was very cross one morning. this is a real bad opener, it's vague and jokey and not funny in a way that could make up for it; you've barely got any characters in your story, why not give the god a name, ffs He called down from the heaven, his voice booming and heavy, and I hear TENSES BITCH them WHAT when I was in the field. I dropped my potato and it landed deep into the dirt.

“Where are the sacrifices?” the voice from the sky asked. so is this what he called down from teh heavens? did it happen before or after the potato?

The sunlight strengthened and gave the potatoes a golden gleam. I picked one up, and put it up in the air. im picturing him just leaving it in the air like putting it on the mantlepiece or w/e “Does this work?”

“Do not play with me mortal. cliche, dumb One mere potato will not be enough.”

I grabbed another potato and lifted it up. The heat seeped through my shirt. bad verb choice

“Neither will two,” the voice said, his voice strained and annoyed.

I put the potatoes into my sack and asked “Well then, how do many you want?”

“I don’t want potatoes!”

“Well, it’s all I got.” I reached down and grabbed the potato I dropped and wiped some of the dirt off it. Most people didn’t appreciate my potatoes. this dude is all herpy derpy about god talking to him which means i really don't care either fyi

“Talk to your elders. We demand reverence.” is it one voice or more, you keep changing your mind

I scratched my head. “That seems like a hassle.”

“Do it, or your potatoes will not grow this season. Or any season.”

I looked down towards the ground. All the potatoes shrunk into the ground like an army of moles had grabbed a hold of them. is shrunk the right word here? My field was empty and I held my potato sack deep to my chest.

“Ok, ok, I’ll do it.” SLUDGE WORDS i'm real bored right now just so you know transparency in judging is important

# haha yeah let's just skip over the potentially interesting drama of actually getting into this meeting because this story is already redlining the thrillometer yes

“Mortals! I have control over the winds, over everything. Listen to me!” the voice boomed in the conference hall, but all the suited men were just staring at me.

“I, uh, i hate this construction, it's a cliche recipe for soggy dialogue don’t think they can hear you,” I whispered to him. The mayor shifted and glared at me, thinking I was whispering to myself. I didn’t think explaining to him that I was talking to a god would make me any more sane looking.

“Then you shall act as my envoy. Tell them I demand a sacrifice.”

“What’s that specifically?” WIFFLE

“Sir,” one of the men said, “Can you please leave? This is a private meeting.”

“I demand gold.”

“Sir, if you don’t leave, we’re going to have get security.”

“That’s a bit…” I started. WAFFLE

“Now, or the potatoes are gone!” YOU ALREADY SAID THIS

I held my breath and looked out over the board room table. People were shifting in their seats, some biting down nervously on their fingernails. WHY YOU JUST SAID THEY THINK HE'S A WEIRDO WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE ANYWAY

“Ummm, I’m here for uhhh, gold.”

A couple of them blinked rapidly, ADVERB CHECK FAIL GLOCK TO THE HEAD BAMBAM then there was a shuffle A WHAT as people oh people, yes i do love those well described girls and/or guys leaned in next to each other. One guy in the back pulled out his phone and rushed WHAT to dial something. THAT WAS A REALLY BAD PARA

“Sir, we’ll get you all the gold you want,” he who, teh dialling guy? so he's talking and rushing to dial and nervously grabbing? said, nervously grabbing at his shirt. “Just, wait here for a bit.”

“Yes!” the voice boomed. “Penance! Finally, some respect for us.”

I tried to smile, DO OR DO NOT BITCH, DON'T TELL ME WHAT YOU ALMOST DID but the door slammed open and a security guard reached over and grabbed my wrist tight. “Let’s go,” he said, jerking me hard out of the room. do security guards really grab people by the wrist like parents with errant toddlers? this action all reads really badly. If you'd put a tiny bit of effort into painting a scene and given me a character or two it might have been interesting, but as it is I super don't care about anything you're telling me right now.

“No, let him go. Bring me my gold!” the voiced echoed in the room and I gave me a splitting CLICHEEEEEEEEEE headache.

#

“We must go back,” The NO CAPITAL voice said.

“Look,” I said, sitting over the edge of the sidewalk outside city hall. “I don’t think they’re going to listen to me.”

“But, the potatoes, everything will stop growing!” THANKS FOR REMINDING ME CHEERS

“Well, most of our food is imported.” I rubbed my butt, sore from being thrown out.

“Then I’ll stop growing all the food in the world.”

“They still won’t listen to me. They’ll just call it like global warming or something.”

The voice was silent for a while and it was nice not having a deep and heavy voice ringing in my ear.

“I just miss having all that gold,” he said finally, but his voice was quieter and soft.

“I’m sorry,” I said and it was kind of true. this sentence is ok

“I just wanted a beautiful pile of shimmering gold on a sunny day.”

I remembered how my potatoes looked this morning. It was a bit of a stretch, but ; they looked a bit like gold, at least to me.

“Well, I can’t really give you gold, but I got some potatoes.”

“Mortal, you are very stupid,” he said, then he paused. “No one ever gave me gold,” he said finally.

“Huh?”

“If I killed them all, then how could they give me gold?” this is a non sequitur

#

I stacked up all the potatoes into a big mound. The sun was setting, and they didn’t look anything like gold, but it was good enough. what a dribbly wet pile of shart effluvia to end with. This was a zero effort poop of a story that has no characters, a dumb plot, is laden down waffle and bland soggy dialogue. it was super duper bad, and I hope you die (at some point in the future after a long, eventful and enjoyable life, surrounded by your friends and loved ones).

spectres of autism posted:

f l e r p b r a w l

Black Rose
750 words

“Dropped,” Lilith says, “like a bad habit.”

“You are a bad habit,” Inanna said. TENSSSSSEEESSSSSS this is a nice bit of dialogue. no scene setting, but I want to know what happens next

“Wrong,” Lilith says. “I mean, I don’t know. I think I’m good for people, just misunderstood.”

Inanna doesn’t say anything then, because she’s too busy growing. Her tendrils are already burrowing under Lillith’s feet, helping her keep her balance, but as Lilith watches she sees them burst through the ground, a cobweb of roots, a protective canopy. God is beginning his bombardment, a hardcore meteor shower, and she knows that it’s Adam at the pulse of everything. Neat images, but I'm milllldly baffled by the world you're giving me - I trust it's the sort of thing a quick google of mesopotamian fertility goddesses will clear up

“My roots are strong,” Inanna says, “but my branches are weak. You can’t stay here forever.”

“I just need a bit longer,” Lilith says. “I’m homeless now.”

But the meteors are falling. They crash into the sap-hardened tendrils, scraping off to plummet into the void, leaving Inanna’s bark scorched, blackened. Inanna grits her teeth, so hard that Lilith can hear it. this is a cliche being used well

“Okay,” Lilith sys. typo “I’ll go. I'm not toxic, though.” She waits for a sympathetic smile. this is a nice, economical character moment

Nothing comes. Instead, as meteors smash into the slowly collapsing folds, the tendrils behind Lilith curl open. Lilith stares at Inanna’s teeth, shades of frosted glass, closes her eyes, and falls backward into space.

▲

So Adam climbs further and further away. puzzled by this

His choice, Lilith thinks. But it doesn’t need to define me. I’m stronger than he thinks I am. I don’t need him.

And she falls towards Tartarus, his black smoke spilling forth, his shadows massing to catch her, enfold her, and float her down towards him. If Adam tries to follow me here, Lilith thinks, then he truly is evil, and he’s wrong, not me. I’ve done all I can. She thinks this as Tartarus begins to speak, and in order to hear him Lilith needs to freeze, to trance out, and then the speech fills her head and there’s nothing but his speech and the void, and when his speech is gone there will only be the void. So Lilith listens.

She’s been there before. She knows that already. She zones out when Tartarus tells her how many times it’s been. She gets the gist. She leaves, comes back. Leaves, comes back. It’s her fault. It isn’t her fault. She needs to listen. She needs to assert herself.

But, Lilith thinks, I know who I am. Objectively I’m the first, and I’m sent away. Read the arc, it’s all there. I can only be the problem, and nothing else.

She thinks this, and her thoughts radiate out into nothingness, are nothingness. It all blurs together, and she’s just with Tartarus, and he settles into a rhythm. His words are slow, measured, and she gets it. He’s getting more and more descriptive, fleshing her out a bit, and then she sees her name and jumps on it, floats away on it, and she’s herself again, zooming through time, watching as Adam spreads his lame seed. The seed radiates outwards, into space, hits the edges of the fabric, and then collapses back, and it’s just her and Adam again. He’s clutching his side in that familiar way, and he looks like he’s about to blame her for something. hrrmmm i think your abstractions are maybe a couple of layers to deep for me to care. you could probably have got away with it if you'd channeled it through nice character work like with inana.

So before he can she rockets away, hair streaming behind her, igniting the air. She twists and turns and scampers. When she looks she sees him following, so she stops looking. Then she’s found a crescent shaped depression in the ground and she falls into it, and then all she can hear is her breathing. Then all she can hear is her heartbeat.

After a while she stands up, shakes off the leaves, and looks for the caves. your words are pretty good throughout this, profoundly weird ideas conveyed through clean simple language

▲

The caves of paradise are only there when you look for them. Otherwise they’d add a bit of darkness to your day that maybe you weren’t ready for. But Lilith needs them now. So she steps into the maw, overgrown with moss so that it blends with the rest of the landscape.

gently caress off, Tartarus, she thinks, but he isn’t there. It’s just her, by herself. naw, tartarus is a dropped ball, don't know/care about him and i really should if this is going to hang

What is Adam doing now, she asks herself. Is he already bitching to God? This one didn’t work out, get me another. And while you’re at it, sweep her away, because I don’t even want to remember her.

But, she thinks, it’s because I terrify him. In the end, you’re terrified of what you create. And his mistake was never creating anything with me. Because I have nothing to be scared of.

One day, she thinks, I’ll write God out. hmmmmmm okay so this fails, to be clear, because it's too short and too weird to hold the cosmic ideas its grappling with, but it's an interesting and worthwhile kind of failure, and I really like the cool style with touches of colour you've got going on.

SurreptitiousMuffin posted:

Mojo still hasn't posted crit from that brawl that StealthArcher bitched out on like six months ago, so don't hold your breath.

quote:

The Twilight Zoned i don't get this title

Jimmy hated Maine. It was too cold, and too woody, and too drat backwards-rear end for its own good. Driving a day or so up the coast from Boston was like going into a new country. Even Nantucket was better than Maine, and that was saying a lot. Nantucket had decent WiFi. His GPS was totally lost, and so was he.

The trunk of his car was packed with thousands of dollars in fine Quebecoise weed. It was ridiculous stuff – worked like straight-laced 50s TV men had tried to spin it. Must’ve been treated with some kinda Russian synthetic poo poo. Turned the whole world into a carnival. If they’d had crazyass Quebecoise weed in the 60s, Woodstock would’ve had a whole lot more of a Reefer Madness feel to it. In a good way, though.

“tThere once was a man from Nantucket,” said a voice. Jimmy drat near jumped out of his skin. cliche His muscles went tight and tore the steering wheel to the left, almost taking him off the road. He slammed the brake with both feet. The car fishtailed all over the icy road, then spun to a stop.

The man in the back seat wore a white suit. He had two short horns sticking out of his forehead. His hair was short, and so blonde it was almost white. He was smoking a blunt with a look of obvious pleasure on his face. this is a real clunky line

“Ahem,” he said, “it’s rude to stare.”

He pulled the brim of his white top-hat down over his horns.

“So uh,” said Jimmy, “are you the devil?” you wasted an opportunity to convey character here

“Yup,” said Satan. He took another puff, then grinned a too-big Cheshire Cat cliche grin. “This is some good poo poo. Anyway, you didn’t let me finish.”

He leaned back, then cracked his knuckles. He had pianist’s hands, with long, lean fingers. They cracked too loudly for such pretty things. nice line The Devil began to sing in a pleasant, lilting baritone. cliche (feels like)

“There once was a man from Nantucket
Who ruined his whole life -- he hosed it!
he murdered his wife
with a razor-sharp knife
when she came back, she told him to suck it.” that's quite a bad limerick

He spread his hands wide, then inclined his head forward just an inch, as if he were too modest to smile and too proud to bow. Jimmy didn’t know how to respond, so he clapped. The Devil screwed up his face. bland blocking

“You’re not going to beg for mercy?” said Lucifer, Lord of Lies.

Jimmy shrugged. “Nope,” he said. “I liked it. I don’t get why she came back though. And what did she tell him to suck? That’s not very clear.”

He wanted to be helpful. The devil seemed alright.

“She’s a zombie and she eats him,” said the Devil. “Also, he’s you. WHOA [b]SPOILER [/b]That’s what I do – I punish sinners for their crimes but first I tell a little poem about it. It’s traditional, you know?”

“I’m not married,” said Jimmy. There was a lady who worked at the hotel IBIS in Bangor who he liked a lot but he was too scared to talk to her. That was as close to love as he got. Satan’s face fell. CLICHE

“You’re Jimmy Schmidt, though? Jimmy Schmidt of Nantucket, Massachusetts? Guy who owns a car shop?”

Jimmy groaned. Not again. i feel like you're squandering a good premise with some verrry bland and mediocre execution “I work at an ice cream place,” he said. “People keep asking me if I’m related to that guy but I’ve never met him. It’s not really a rare name.”

A bloody palm slammed against the car’s window, and Jimmy screamed. this was unclearly described, I'd have put a bit more effort into it not just 'a bloody palm' The Devil sighed, and waved it away. He cracked the window, then poked his head out into the frigid air. “Wrong guy, Nancy,” he said. “Sorry about this. I’ve got a new phone, you know? It’s hard to use. We’ll have you doing the whole revenant fury thing ASAP. Just sit tight.”

“Did you do anything really terrible that I can do a poem about?” said Beelzebub, Lord of the Pit. “Like, do you steal jewelry from senile old ladies by pretending to be their son? That would be pretty evil. I mean I gotta punish you for something or I’ll be hearing about it from upstairs.”

He took out his phone and glared at it. Jimmy felt sorry for him: a very old man adrift in a changing world. OOF I JUST GOT HIT AMIDSHIPS BY THE POINT, CAPN WE'RE TAKIN ON SIGNIFICANCE FAST

“Nope,” said Jimmy. He wanted to be helpful. Jimmy was not a smart man.who's actually describing this story plz

“I stay in a lot of motels,” he said, “and I take their pens sometimes. haha I mean, I’m smuggling weed across the border but who isn’t these days? That’s what Canada is there for.”

The Devil screwed up his face. he did that before you lazy rear end in a top hat it wasn't interesting the first time either He took another hit of the joint, then put it out on the car-seat. After a few moments staring out the window, he clicked his tongue. “Good enough,” he said, then he began to sing.

“there once was a smuggler of weed
whose heart was a bastion of greed
his life went to pot
when his keys he forgot
and his whole life went rather to seed.” another bad limerick

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Jimmy. “I’ve got my keys right h-”

The blacktop writhed and cracked beneath them, then a monstrous sativa plant burst up through the ground. Its stalks were thicker than Jimmy’s arms, and its leaves were the size of soup plates. Its buds were bigger than Jimmy’s head. It wrapped around the car, and the metal screamed in protest. The windows all shattered at once, pelting Jimmy with broken glass. lol left field which is weird when you consider the zombie/devil angle, but it actually is, this seems super out of character with this Kind of Story which generally relies on devilish coincidence and people being brought low by their own failings

Stalks invaded the car. Jimmy was about to make a hentai joke nope, if the character doesn't care then the reader doesn't care when the first one rammed itself down his throat. He clawed at it, but it was alive, and strong. weird word choice Another wrapped around his waist, and squeezed. Four sharp gunshot-cracks rang out, and pain blossomed in Jimmy’s ribcage.

The last thing he heard before the life was crushed from him was the Devil saying “SIRI, Jimmy Schmidt.”

“Do You Want To Call Jeremy Schmidt?”

“No, I said – ugh gently caress it. I’ll do it tomorrow.” bad joke, poorly executed. which sums up this story. I'd have given you this brawl at a walk (if stealth archer had bothered to show, but he would have had to be pretty bad to not beat this.

Julias posted:

First off, my story for Week 188

715 Words

September Selves

Smoldering ashes from rustic fireplaces tinge the midnight air. cool Autumn leaves drift off their resting branches, being cradled by the breeze, into the loamy soil. fascinating, loamy is literally my favourite kind of soil The clouded atmosphere casts shadows of illusory beasts onto the lake’s surface, intermingling with the shapes of real creatures that lie beneath. oh, neat i love that particular kind of cloudy atmosphere

Above the surface, the only remarkable feature wow! was a wooden craft, oh plastered with emblems of the Rabul Kingdom, AW poo poo YEAH THE RABUL KINGDOM only half-visible through the layers of mud and moss. Two gaunt figures were sitting of the edge of the boat, one on the bow, the other on the stern. Though they faced apart, both men were concentrating deeply on their task. I am completely invested in these two undescribed men who have not yet done anything except think really hard

The inside of the boat seemed fairly standard. cool, good to get the chandlering sorted out and to know it's all in orderBoth the port and starboard were lined with oars, nets, and harpoons - interesting - why on earth would they have all that stuff on a boat of all places? the usual equipment for fishing, oh, i see and there was a black chest bolted !!! to the center of the ship. Indeed, indeed! each of the men wielded a fishing rod, cast off into the depths beneath them. ahhhhhh tehy are fishing thank u that clears up so loving much

Fishing good reiteration here, just to remove the doubt was not only a hobby, but a traditional pastime among the citizens of Rabul. nice reincorporation! the fishermen of Rabul are probably legendary The Tobias brothers have tense, tsk been fishing since they could hold a rod. phwooarrrr? (not sure if rude) Eager to make their parents happy, they made it a competition to catch the most fish, or perhaps the biggest fish, on each of their ventures to the lake. (im just gonna break character for a moment to say this is maybe the clunkiest way this sentiment has been or could have ever been expressed in all the long ages of man)

Though they may have tense, tsk grown up, both brothers still harbored a deep passion for the sport, and have spent countless nights aboard various ships, passing the time away. this sentence is phenomenally dynamic Normally, the nights would pass on by quickly, but tonight the minutes seemed like hours. oh, no but it's fascinating when two undescribed people sit at either end of a boat not doing anything Storm clouds began to metastasize across the healthy night sky tight metaphor, and soon only a few rays of light pierced through the heavenly awning. Like a dilapidated roof, rain began to drip through the awning, startling the people that were unfortunate enough to live underneath it. given they are living beneath a vast curtain of cancer, this seems an understatement

Both brothers sighed, and each abandoned their HIS YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE GENDER NEUTRAL THEY ARE BOTH MEN post to find some tarp buried beneath their provisions. Instead of their usual jovial attitude, discussing about their catches (with both fish and women), they merely cursed at their bad luck. After tearing apart some sheets and wrapping themselves in it, they sulked back to the port and starboard, unsurprised that no fish and taken their bait. i'm honestly losing my spirit for jolly mockery here, so far you have achingly scrabbled your way to an opening scene that could be described in a line, say 'The two brothers looked sulkily at the rain spattered water, fishing rods idle by their side.' WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME WRITE YOUR STORY I HATE YOU

The vessel bobbed on the rippling waves, growing more violent as the sky darkened. Soon the rain doused the duo. Their ambition was to go fishing, oh is that waht tey are doing why did not you say so but at this rate the only thing that they were likely to catch was illness. lol nice pun (play on wodrs)None of the fish were biting today, and there were not even any other vessels on the lake. Despite this, the brothers stayed adamant in maintaining their post.

Soon the wind began to intensify. The dilapidated awning was falling apart, and streams of moonlight and water began to strike the boat. The chilling air cut through the tarp, and the two brothers began to ache. Teeth chattering, they both backed up to the black chest, and sat on top of it, back to back, staring out into the tempest that was consuming them.

Jeremiah grabbed Michael’s hands, and squeezed them tightly. Bound to his younger brother, Michael reassured him by singing for him the same lullaby that their parents would sing when they had trouble sleeping as children:

“Unless you wish to take a
Come here and hold out your own hand
There is no glory, there is no pain
Crying out for the already slain.”

Only this time, the brother knew they had to stand through this terror, less they risk losing it all.

***

Another quiet night cycles on by, with no appearance of the Terror. Now that day will tense, tsk break soon, the brothers can return home and recover tense, tsk from their ordeal. They both sighed in relief, never having to crack open the black flare chest, never having to strike against a real monster. It has been generations since the Terror overcame Rabul. The horrors that plagued their ancestors have tesne, tsk now become faint memories, a distant dream that is now a myth. Jeremiah and Michael remembered their vows to take a stand, and to always watch out for the children of the Rabul Kingdom, just as real to them as the oncoming Terror that would shatter this peace one day. And that was the most terrifying thought to both of them. lol gently caress youuu don't spring some bullshit monster twist on me goddammit this is nonsensical

Carl Killer Miller posted:

Hey, any of you serious thunderdome winners want to help out with this poo poo? I've got this collection of opening or theme-setting statements from some past thunderdome champs and they loving suck. My own writing is garbage too, but who enjoys this?:


This story got rave reviews. The protagonists are planning on going to U of T as adult human beings, at the age of 18, with unmanageable alfalfa cowlicks and sneakers that are so bad that they literally cause 'woe'. #1 story.


Opening sentence for an honorable mention that almost took the week. The story opens with a guy having god-acid reflux and his friend Joey deciding to fix it with a big ol hug. Joey hugs his way all over that story!


That last one (per the head judge) won by a very, very wide margin even though it went on in a similar way for another thousand words. It is a story in words that is more boring than the same number of characters in morse code.



I've gotten some great crits for my terrible writing, but why does this poo poo win consistently? I've read the judge descriptions for each individual win, but they are vague.

Sitting Here posted:

The best thing to do, if you think a story did something lovely, is rage crit it so hard it leaves marks.