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derp posted:im in a zone and don't want to wait till monday or tuesday to start the next thing. somebody FIGHT ME Antivehicular posted:Sure, let's do this poo poo ThirdEmperor posted:What the gently caress why is this man STILL UNBRAWLED? I have been brawling like crazy and didn't want to steal an opportunity for one of you maggots to PROVE YOUR WORTH but goddamnit here he stands, swinging his dick, precisely ZERO boots being applied to his rear! Lead out in cuffs posted:So Third was so aggrieved at my informing him that Chuck Tingle has, indeed, written books about Donald Trump being pounded in the butt, that he called me out. If you please, this could be a four-way. The brawl, I mean. you're all brawling each other. Your prompt is two characters who can't communicate but must work together in some way. 1200 words due date Saturday October 6, before you go to bed. judge is me  es please
Sitting Here fucked around with this message at 09:10 on Sep 30, 2018 |
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Sep 30, 2018 06:43
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Lead out in cuffs posted:So Third was so aggrieved at my informing him that Chuck Tingle has, indeed, written books about Donald Trump being pounded in the butt, that he called me out. If you please, this could be a four-way. The brawl, I mean. ok you're in
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Sep 30, 2018 09:09
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sebmojo posted:this is looking like a regular shindig, i will help judge it 
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Sep 30, 2018 10:17
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 Submissions closed! Please sit patiently on your shelves for the agonizing duration of judgment, during which you will contemplate the passage of time and the liminal nature of humanity
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Oct 1, 2018 08:07
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 Some notes on this week: You guys did really well. Even the low end of the week wasn't especially bad; it took a bit of discussion to arrive at our two negative mentions. No one jumped on the loss grenade. I was genuinely expecting you all to gently caress it up or fail in droves, but what I got was a surprising range in tone and content. According to TDers, objects are tragic observers of the passage of time. They yearn to be used. They are helpless but not unconcerned. They remember what we forget and sometimes what we could never know. I will forever feel even guiltier for the time I left Snuggybear in the Mexican restaurant and didn't go back for him. I'm now terrified by the concept that every object I've ever owned is out there somewhere, forlorn and purposeless. So yeah I'd call that a successful week  Negative mentions Invisible Clergy gets a DM for writing a story where the assigned object lacked any semblance of a point of view or inner life. In a week full of interesting voices and perspectives, it wasn't enough to narrate the life of an object without any editorializing whatsoever. Hawklad takes the loss. There's a weird tone mismatch between the whimsical idea of snowglobe mermen who think they're warriors and the situation with this rapidly escalating domestic abuse. Either element could've worked, but together it made for an incongruous reading experience. Sorry guys! Well fought.  Ock! mentions Yoruichi for writing a story about four horny bedposts who get a rage boner. Positive mentions Djeser takes home an easy HM for writing a story that put us in the head of an oldass door. Also, pretty words. Thranguy gets an HM for clever prompt usage. Antivehicular gets an HM for impressing at least 2 of the judges by successfully conveying the inner life of a lost playing card. steeltoedsneakers gets an HM for punching at least 2 of the judges in the gut. Winner Full disclosure, I don't know how I feel about giving out this win. But there was one story that the judges kept coming back to as their favorite, so the only correct option is to give that story the win, though we might have reservations about the winner. JOHN MADNESS, you registered your account the same day you signed up for thunderdome. You appear to type in all caps. You are by all appearances a gimmick account, but dammit we all independently arrived at the conclusion that yours was our favorite story. So go forth and don't gently caress up. The throne is yours.
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Oct 2, 2018 04:19
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oh and that i'll have all crits done before i go to bed on Friday night
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Oct 2, 2018 04:31
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JOHN MADNESS has until about 8PM PST to post a prompt before the blood throne is repossessed by the corrupt and nefarious powers that be
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Oct 2, 2018 18:51
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You know what. I wanna see where this goes. IN!
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Oct 2, 2018 19:42
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im just going to post a few crits once or twice a day between now and Friday I think Week 321 crits pt 1 of ??? Whoopiecat - Faux Before I critique the actual events of the story, I want to critique a decision you made. This story contains a LOT of characters. Because of that, the party itself seems like the main character. There’s just too much going on for the reader to zero in on the bear head as the protagonist, though it’s not for lack of trying. Okay so about the “plot” (I’ll be using this term loosely throughout these crits). The narrative is basically a camera panning around this party, revealing these shallow, cheating Mcmansion-dwellers in ones and twos. The conversation sort of bounces back and forth between the Japanese concept of inner/outer masks and Melinda assuring her guests that it’s fine if they spill things and vomit everywhere because I guess everything about her home is fake. The bear mutely judges all from behind his Smokey the Bear costume. In the distance, a fire draws nearer to the party. You try to do this thing with the concept of tatamae/honne, but it falls a little flat because I have a hard time imagining that these people’s inner lives are any less shallow than their facades. Melinda is the closest thing we have to a three dimensional character, but she’s kind of your boilerplate repressed homemaker. She’s polite and cheery and permissive because inside she’s deeply unhappy. Nothing new there. But the bigger problem I have with Melinda is that she obscures the bear head as your POV character. Overall, this is a portrait of upper-middle class ennui that I feel like I’ve seen before. What would’ve made it stand out more would be if the bear head had a more prominent “voice” in the narrative; that is, those passages that indicate the bear’s feelings need to come a lot more frequently and have a lot more zazz. Mr. Sunshine - The long dark I’m not sure what I was hoping for this week, but this is definitely close to the ambiguous mark. You wrote convincingly about the inner life of an exceedingly old bottle of wine. I enjoyed the...directness? of the prose. Sometimes when people write from a non-human POV, there’s this temptation to describe ordinary things as though an alien is seeing them for the first time. The language is nice, though I did wonder how an old bottle of wine would know about falling snow. That particular simile stood out to me because it was both cliche and kind of out of place. You completely succeeded at creating an inanimate protagonist. My main critique is that the story is very slow until the end, at which point it escalates rapidly and without much warning. This wasn’t the only story to do that, and it wasn’t the only story where the object was broken in the defense of its user. I do think this one pulled it off better than some, though it would’ve been cool if the “action”, so to speak, had escalated more steadily, at a driving pace. Thranguy’s story is a decent example of that in action, as is Anomalous Blowout’s. LITERALLY A BIRD - Looking/Seeing So, let’s see. We’ve got a mirror who loves the heck out of the people who use it. At first I was interpreting the mirror’s adoration of its users as a reflection of their vanity. But the two women we see in the story seem pretty down to earth and not particularly self-absorbed. The mirror loves them, and they seem to cherish the mirror. Josie reveals that she only uses the mirror for special occasions (such as her wedding), and this seems to perplex and amuse her mom. She reveals that she looks in the mirror only when she especially wants to remember how she looked for a given occasion. The mirror is acutely aware of this fact, though I wasn’t sure how to read that final line. Is the mirror’s “I know” a bitter “I know”? Or is the mirror affirming Josie’s decision to only bring the mirror out for special occasions? I’m possibly overthinking it. Overall, this was a pretty piece, but we have got to talk about one of your first lines: quote:Her lips are the color of the duvet across the room, spread smooth and velvet-red as the petals of the roses that she sometimes sets beside it. There is just tooooo much going on here. Why couldn’t her lips just be the color of roses? The description goes lips -> duvet -> roses. A duvet can be a lot of colors and the idea of roses comes last. Things are further muddled when you tell us she only sometimes sets the roses beside the duvet. I assume the duvet is on a bed, but that’s not really indicated either way. Just overall a confusing comparison. On a broader note, as I’m reading these first entries, I’m wondering if I’m going to see a lot of variations on the theme of the relatively unchanging nature of objects vs the rapidly changing nature of humans. That concept was pretty evident here; the mirror stays the same, while its users change. The mirror desperately loves its users, but is at their mercy, too. The next generation might not use it with the same reverence as its current owner, or the frequency of its previous owner. This is kind of an inherent tragedy of objects, I suppose. M. Propagandolph - Blood for Blood Hmm, I think this is probably my favorite story you’ve written so far. That’s not to say it doesn’t have any problems, but overall I think you made some good decisions with this prompt. So we’ve got a staircase who seems pretty content with its life in the president’s palace. Then a tyrant comes along and turns the whole place into the set of Caligula. The staircase is in the horrifying predicament of having to endure all this because it has no other option; it can’t even trip the tyrant when he uses the stairs. When the tyrant’s regime finally collapses, he’s beheaded at the top of the stairs and his head rolls all the way down to the bottom. The staircase tastes his blood, but it’s sour, and the staircase seems to kind of bemoan that it will never be the same as it was before the tyrant. This story has some weird language in it, I think as a consequence of the sort of baroque voice of the staircase. I’ll use the very end as an example: quote:
I’m not sure what “seeped into my age” is referring to. It could be heavily metaphorical: the blood seeps into the actual quality of age within the staircase. Or maybe you meant something more like “...seeped into my aged wood.” The fact that it’s not clear hurts my comprehension. Otherwise, I thought this was pretty decent. Yoruichi - You Got Me Out Of Storage For This? This is a silly story about a horny bed who gets a rage boner. It was amusing to read, but it’s hard to critique seriously. Your characters are more like caricatures and none of these interactions feel realistic, or even like they’re trying to be realistic. The in-joke at the end was as good as this particular in-joke is capable of being, though not all the judges were aware of the history of Ock!
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Oct 3, 2018 00:33
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Sitting Here posted:oh and this was stupid, it's my birthday week, I have no time. that I'll get the rest out by Monday night before I go to bed. Here are a few more 321 crits Derp - Camera This was a nice piece and tbh a different set of judges might’ve HMed it. My favorite bit is the climactic moment, when the camera believes that it’s taking a picture. It’s a cool sensory rush followed by a quick but relentless descent back to reality. I especially like the detail that the camera believes that perhaps by taking a picture of an insect’s wing, it can right whatever wrong that cause it to go into disuse in the first place. Insult is added to injury when the real reason for the camera’s abandonment is revealed to the reader: it’s been replaced by the smartphone, and moreover has become the subject of photos itself, rather than an active participant in them. I’m not sure why this one didn’t come up for an HM. I think all of the judges had pretty hefty HM shortlists and sorting through all the possible options kind of paralyzed us with indecision. Anomalous Blowout - Follow Thou Me Here’s another one on my HM shortlist. There’s a lot to appreciate in a small space, and the narrative doesn’t feel the need to come out and state any of it in an obvious way. I love the prompt usage; a scrap of scripture meant as part of a code is a great character. The real story here, of course, would be the escape and subsequent adventures of the girl who escaped from this enclave of overzealous mormons. But there’s something really interesting about telling the story of an object (or entity) who’s played their part and, for all intents and purposes, been left behind. At least one judge disagreed with me about the virtue of not coming out and explaining more of the situation to the reader. I think it was definitely possible, in a big week, to read this story and kind of fly by the subtleties of it. Still, well done, and definitely a piece I enjoyed reading. NotGordian - The Pipe and the Crab I enjoyed this story for the most part, but the ending didn’t quite land for me. I wanted it to land. It’s got some of the characteristics of an ending that would land. The hermit crab comes up early enough of the story that as a reader I’m definitely waiting to see whether or not it will form a “bond” with the pipe. I think what bothers me is that the pipe expresses guilt of a perceived betrayal; it’s not a slight to the crab that the pipe didn’t want to live at the bottom of the ocean. It wasn’t clear to me why the pipe felt guilty about that, because everything about the story suggests that the bottom of the sea is lonely and boring for a pipe. I could’ve also used a little more than “The two spent years traveling together…” Like, I understand the length restrictions, and you can be pretty hand-wavy in a story of this length, but everything else about this story is very lush with sensory description, and then it’s like “..and then the crab and pipe rode off into the sunset and it was cool and rad”. Mostly I thought this was a good piece though.
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Oct 5, 2018 02:40
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here are some more 321 crits. Like i said in my last post, the rest will be out by monday night. Djeser - False door of Kha, Egyptian, 2288-2170 BCE Like, here’s djeser writing the djeserest djeserism that ever djesered. You clearly have a deep and affectionate knowledge of your subject, which can sometimes drag a piece down but I feel like your expertise was put to efficient use here. Your chosen item interacts with this prompt in a super interesting way. The door is both active and passive; if you believe in the door and what it represents, then the door is literally acting as a mystical conduit. If you don’t regard the door as a mystical conduit, then it’s simply a fascinating artifact. As far as the door is concerned, it’s performing a mystical function. As far as most of the humans around it are concerned, it’s inert and has no actual function outside of its historical value. Sidenote, what is with you and sentient doors? The character of the door is interesting, too. It’s pretty stoic, but there is a sense of grief for the soul who lives on the other side when the food stops coming. The door mourns its function when the chapple is buried under eons and sand. It has an identity crisis when it’s placed in a museum. And finally, it feels peace and gratitude when a human (possibly a secret god) does his best to approximate the old offerings. The ending of this story made me smile; it adds just enough levity to the story to lend texture, but not so much levity that it subverts the mood and voice of the rest of the piece. Sidenot, in my head the guy giving the false door sandwiches is totally you. Anyway cool story bro. JOHN MADNESS - help-help-help-help-help-help-help-help-help-he I wonder whose alt you are. This has a crabrock or tyrannosaurus vibe. I lean toward the latter. Apologies if you’re a legit new person lol. Take it as a compliment. Anyway, this story was a pretty early and unanimous favorite of the judges. The all caps gimmick will probably be really grating if you use it in any other stories, but as the voice of a helpless yet perceptive shopping cart, it works. I think what’s cool about it is the contrast between the cart’s mannerisms (calling the two characters ‘bitch’, the all caps thing, etc) and its apparent compassion. This grocery cart knows poo poo and it’s pissed because it can’t do anything about it. It’s a good person even though it’s not even alive. The other thing I like is that ‘help’ is the only thing you’ve written to date that’s not in caps. It highlights the helplessness of the cart—the squeaking of its wheels is the smallest thing in the whole story. What makes this a powerhouse of an entry is how hard you lean into the emotional state of this cart. It’s not concerned about being used or abandoned, it’s pissed the hell off because something legitimately, casually horrible is happening and it can’t do anything. Ottermotive Insanity - Bed 317 This is nice, but it suffers from a few weaknesses. This is another object whose inner life is pretty opaque to the reader. This bed is literally an amnesiac, so even if it were to have a personality, it would lose the essence of that personality every time a new patient appeared. The one exception to this quality is the sticker that gets stuck to the underside of the bed, which seems to allow the bed to retain memories of the first patient we meet. I kept waiting for the sticker-induced memory retention to change something about the bed, but all it does is continue to remind the bed of hysterectomy janet, until the sticker goes away and the bed forgets again. How does the bed feel about this? Does it want to remember the different patients, or is it content to forget each time the bet is stripped and sanitized? How does it feel about accepting the dreams and nightmares of its patients? The end of this story is “and then everything went back to normal and the sticker didn’t really matter, and that’s okay.” It’s not horrible, but it left me feeling a bit “okay, and…?” Which is a shame because there is a softness and a gentleness to this story that I want to enjoy. All that said, at least one judge gave this story high marks in judge chat. I don’t hate it or anything, I just don’t think you successfully developed whatever ideas you went into the peice with. Staggy - Slow Sigh This is a pretty straightforward piece. The beginning of the story pretty much comes out and states the premise, which is this idea that the beginning of the end is, for all intents and purposes, the end. The basketball and the world are both deflating, shriveling into obscurity. At which point are humans functionally extinct? When does a basketball become a nameless blob of rubber and leather? The story pitches these ideas at the reader, and then leaves us to sit in the mood engendered by those questions. One thing that might’ve improved the story is if the basketball had a more acute perspective on the humans who live beneath it. I think you were trying to avoid making people the protagonists of the story, but it had the consequence of making everything feel very vague and washed over. I would’ve liked the basketball to maybe observe and describe a specific group or family, to the point of even feeling kinship with them or fondness for them. I want the basketball’s self-perception as a basketball to possibly be tied to the presence of humans. Something. I liked the atmosphere and melancholy of this piece, but at least one other judge thought it was kinda dense and wordy to no real end. Exmond - Long Live the King Hi Exmond!!! You already know, I think, what I’m going to waggle my finger at. You stretched the prompt to the point where we were considering giving you a DQ, but lucky for you, the line was blurred just enough by the fact that you chose a smart TV as your object. Currently, we don’t have any reason to believe that smart TVs are capable of developing the kind of AI that would allow them to take action the way your TV does. On the other hand, this prompt did necessitate that objects have an inner emotional life, so your TV kinda has to be a “person” with thoughts and feelings. In the end, I decided that it fell just on the right side of prompt-adherence. Okay so let’s look at the actual story. Your smart TV is actually pretty endearing, both in its enthusiasm for its role and its love of King Charlie. We can infer a fair bit about what happened to Charlie to make him suicidal; he had a family once, and now he doesn’t (or so he thinks). Little does he know that, by simply unboxing and using this smart TV, he’s inadvertently created a new, highly loyal and protective family member. I like that, from Charlie’s perspective, the TV is presumably just having some sort of malfunction which comes just in time to stop him from killing himself. He doesn’t necessarily know that this “coincidence” is in fact a profound act of love and self sacrifice, but the TV doesn’t mind because its priority is Charlie being okay. Prompt quibbles aside, I really like this piece. It’s very heartfelt.
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Oct 6, 2018 03:44
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The Sean posted:I check in only once in a while. Why is Google Docs against the rules now? It seems completely different than fanfiction or erotica. Stories should be posted directly in the thread. For one thing, having to click through a link that idiot goons may or may not have set the right permissions for makes judgment more annoying. For another thing, Google docs makes life harder for the archivist.
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Oct 6, 2018 18:28
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prompt: a shark in a jar preserved in 70% isopropyl alcohol dyed blue for a captivating "oceanic" aesthetic Thank you. I love you. Treatment works. 630 words I’m the belle of the ball. Naked, suspended in a liquid preservation medium the same temperature as my body, displayed in a clear cylindrical tank—never before have so many timeless, immaculate faces turned my way. Never before has a party swirled around me like the spiral arms of a galaxy. Eleanor, intervention specialist, touches the side of my tank and tells one of her guests, “This is Swati. She’s in a lot of pain. She has a lot to offer the world, but she’s not prepared to give herself the time to figure it out.” The guest, a young man with an earnest face, looks up at me and says, “I read about you before the party. You spent a century developing artificial fungal networks before switching to oceanography. You discovered six new species of tube worm. Everyone hoped you were going to switch to stellar cartography in your fourth century. You must’ve been under so much pressure.” His wide eyes are watery with sincerity. If I could vomit, I would paint the inside of this tank with my disgust. . There was no pressure; I had all the academic resources in the world at my disposal, and all the time in which to put them to use. I was well established in my various fields of study, and had gluts of colleagues falling over themselves to get their name on a paper co-authored by me. In my old life, the one where death was certain, I’d been thrilled by the idea that my research would pass as a torch from me to the next generation. There was a relief in the idea that I might contribute my share and then tap out, move on to the great adventure of death. Then came the lights in the sky. Then came the symbiotes, falling from the upper atmosphere in a haze like fine ash, and with them, immortality. For the first century, humans exalted in the endless, golden afternoon of eternal life. Then the suicides began; for many, the lack of a finish line took the thunder out of the race. Society embraced its psychologically wounded, took us in its arms and refused to let go. . Eleanor leads guest after guest to my tank, giving them all a chance to affirm and validate my existence. One of them smiles up at me and says, “Why rush things? The universe will end eventually. If you care so little about your life, use it to help others.” I will help others, whenever they let me out of this intervention tank. I’ll study the symbiotes, and find a cure. Until then, I have one small act of protest at my disposal. Academic connections have their perks; one of my colleagues from mortal times works at the intervention facility where they tanked me. Intervention protocol is pretty strict and invasive, but a high-level tech can cut a few corners. The preservation fluid in which I’m suspended functions as both food and air. Standard procedure is to empty the digestive tract before you tank someone, but my colleague bypassed that step. My musket is loaded, and even my artificially-minimized metabolism can’t prevent the inevitable. “Even if it seems pointless now, you have billions of years to find purpose,” one of Eleanor’s guests tells me. This is my purpose, I think, just as my body bears down reflexively on the mass in my lower intestines. The guests make horrified sounds as my waste fills the intervention tank. Their words of encouragement and validation die behind gagging and retching. Someone calls for an intervention tech and I know I’ve earned myself years in this tank. Flakes of poo poo drift in front of my eyes; I am not only alive, but living.
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Oct 8, 2018 07:04
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the rest of my 321 crits sorry about the inconsistency of these. A lot of stories did the same things and I got tired of writing the same crits over and over. sparksbloom - Rust I think this is a piece that got high marks from a lot of readers, including at least one judge, and for good reason; the writing is lovely. Where it fell short for me is in its predictability; we spend a few paragraphs watching this girl grow along with the gate’s silent attachment to her, so when the girl leaves for unspecified reasons, I wasn’t surprised. There’s no like...hint at a broader context or sense of specificity about the girl’s choice to (evidently) disappear. We get a few paragraphs of lovely words, and then welp time for this girl to go away so the gate can be sad. The gate gets old, as gates do, and the girl comes back to twine her fingers between the bars one last time. Hooray! It’s very neat and tidy in a way that feels hollow to me. This gate is literally rusting to pieces and it’s not clear to me why one last touch would let it somehow find peace. I wish the gate had more of an inner narrative or an emotional life because right now this feels a lot like a better-executed version of Ottermotive Insanity’s Bed 317; sweet and gentle and kind of sad, but lacking the emotional substance of some of the other stories. Antivehicular - The 52nd Pickup This piece is cool because of how much it focuses on the tactile. There’s a nice little B-story that adds some emotional stakes without taking the spotlight off the card. I didn’t like the use of the word “kin” to describe the other cards. Especially when you put quotes around words like “life” and “death”. “Kin” seems like it should be a similarly abstract concept for the card, but you use it several times. Semi-relatedly, the language in this story is very direct and clinical. The tactile descriptions could’ve been enhanced with more creative language. flerp - you are piss No u This is like an anthem for every kid who’s ever felt like they were brought into the world by mistake by fuckup parents. It’s kind of a nice “makes u think” moment. I didn’t like this bit: quote:You don’t know, really, if your father is the one who died in the accident. You only know this because the police were at the bar a couple of days ago, asking questions. You guessed that was him. Or, maybe the better word is ‘wished.’ This does a couple things. For one thing, it forces me to suddenly credit this piss puddle with more observation skills than i’d first assumed. For another thing, this piss puddle has, for all intents and purposes, been an innocent throughout this story. But then suddenly it’s expressing a wish for its ‘father’s’ death. It was a weird roadbump for my headcanon. The story ends with this bitterness that just feels sort of weird. I can’t blame a piss puddle for feeling bitter, but that wasn't the button on the ending that i was hoping for. Hawklad - Honeymoon Warriors I have several issues with this story. Let’s go section by section. In section one, we meet our merman snow globe in a store surrounded by other merman snowglobes. It seems to conceive of itself as a warrior, and even believes that Poseidon himself imbued these snow globes with some greater purpose. Was this knowledge and self-perception somehow built into these mermen? Or is this one snowglobe just kinda crazy. Do they communicate with each other? Is the reader meant to assume these are literally magical objects? These were the distracting questions i took away from the last couple sentences in this first scene. In the section two, it becomes clear that this merman has been brought into a pretty dysfunctional household. You’ve got an abuser and his battered wife. They are pretty boilerplate, not that this is their story—Except it kind of is their story because all the merman can do is observe. I feel like this second section is the weakest bit by far because there’s no room for either the merman or the couple to have much personality. Merman is a pretty standard “I must go, my planet needs me” caricature of a hero. I don’t want to criticize the behavior of the wife too much, because lots of people deal with abuse for a long time before doing something about it, but as a story character she’s very passive and stoic. She’s central without being particularly stand-out which means I’m not connecting with her plight at all. So then we get to the third scene, where the abuse escalates to a knock-down, drag-out fight. And suddenly our merman is using words like “leviathan” and “mermaid” and things are happening with the fury of crashing waves and it’s all very oceanic, but I’m still not sure why this merman would have this particularly oceanic lexicon. Which goes back to my questions from the first scene; how much of the merman’s self-perception is “real”? As an object, it doesn’t really have any reason to use ocean metaphors and similes unless it has some literal connection to Poseidon/the ocean/whatever. But I didn’t get a sense either way. In the end, the merman gets smashed against the abuser’s head, which is all well and good. I think we’re left to ponder whether this humble merman snow globe was destined to save this woman’s life by acting as a bludgeon. Did Poseidon himself really come down and go “hey hold tight fam, you’re gonna do something really important someday”? Or did the merman just coincidentally have a sense of duty that happened to match his ultimate fate? Like I said before, one of the biggest problems with this piece is that none of the individual story elements give each other room, so everyone and everything just comes off as feeling very vague, up until the end I guess where suddenly it’s all ocean words. Curlingiron - Carbon Monoxide Detective So you know and we all know that this is kind of one joke with a fun voice. The deal here is that the CO detector thinks very highly of its perceptive abilities, but when something sinister happens in front of (underneath?) it, it’s oblivious. But of course, what would a CO detector even do to help this person who clearly got in over his head? It would be breaking the rules of the week if the CO detector was able to do anything other than beep about carbon monoxide so the whole concept is kind of intrinsically sad without diminishing the overall humor of the piece. My only real beef, which I’ve already told you in IRC, is that things get a little bit fuzzy when the Bad Dudes come to kill the CO detector’s owner. After thinking about, it I realized that they’d broken in and staged a suicide, but that info was a little bit obscured behind the CO detector’s own obliviousness. Fumblemouse - Blood Guilt So, this slinky is way into its role as a portal through which various toys pass to far away dimensions. I didn’t really care for all the capitalized proper nouns; it made for lumpy reading. I get that from the perspective of this toy, all the pretend-playing is epic, but that doesn’t make it less of a chore for my eyeballs. The grandiose voice drops off after the slinky gets tangled, which I liked. Like so many objects this week, it’s left to contemplate how much it would prefer to be used by its human masters. The ending is pretty lukewarm. The slinky is sad because it’s been abandoned, but then it gets rediscovered for a new generation and is happy again! The end! I’m tired of saying this, but I really wish more objects had, by the end of their respective stories, come to different conclusions than “yay i’m being used!” or “boo i’m not being used.” Beezus - Self-improvement I think this is one of those stories that is going to speak to something super real for some people and possibly alienate other people. Personally, I thought it was a nice little lens into this girl’s “buddhist phase.” I think I would’ve liked to have read about a slightly less frustrated Buddha? Like the statue itself (himself?) reads less like the buddha and more like a fellow buddhist whose frustrated that his meditation partner is gone. This is a little bit like Djeser’s story in that we’re dealing with an item that, depending on who you ask, might have some actual spiritual or mystical property. The difference is that Djeser leaned into the voice and perception of his object. Like I said, this Buddha talks more like a buddhist than a statue of the actual gosh darn buddha. Thranguy - Subtext Good job being smart with your prompt. I would’ve been happy with a story about an honest to goodness parchment palimpsest, but this was a nice surprise. A cheaply made bible is a neat way to maneuver into the story you told. This story is a lot like Anomalous Blowout’s in that it feels very big and exciting without ever showing “on screen” action. Oh and I guess they do both involve the surreptitious use of religious texts. That said, I felt as though the voice of the bible wasn’t very strong. At times I could almost forget the story was in first person; the narrative is utterly consumed by the telling of events in this story, so there isn’t a lot of room for personality on the part of the bible. Compare it to the winning story, which was all voice (to the point of being a gamble), and Djeser’s HM, which conveyed a very unique POV. Lead out in cuffs - Time for tea This week made me aware of a new pet peeve which is: I hate it when objects regard other objects as kin, or siblings, or children, or whatever (which one notable exception this week). But okay. This is pretty sweet, though admittedly by this point in the week I was getting tired of hearing objects go on and on about how great it is to be touched and used. So many warm hands gently caressing. The problem with this story was the same problem suffered by a lot of stories, which is like...your object loves being used, yay! Then it’s not used for a while, boo! Then someone comes along and uses it again, hooray! And I totally understand why so many people structured their stories that way but hot drat, now that I’m writing crits for all of these, it’s more noticeable than when we were judging. What endears this story to me over some of the other, similar stories is that we actually get a decent explanation for why this couple’s marriage falls apart, as opposed to boilerplate abuse or family drama. We also get some resolution for the wife, who had to move on from a heartbreaking situation. You understand why she wouldn’t want to see the teapot, but the validity of that reasoning doesn’t make it any easier for the teapot to be shut away. SMuffin - Precisely 10 Hmmm so here’s the thing. I read this story once as it’s written, not following the numbers. Then I read it according to the numbers. I didn’t get like, a different sense of the story when I followed its gimmick. I do like that the ending was the same whether you start at 1 or 10, though. The story lets the reader decide where it begins and ends. That said, i like the character of the clock. I like the brackets. I like that it is perceptive but still concerned with its own wellbeing. As a mute observer of someone’s total mental decay, the clock is very poignant. Invisible Clergy - Stone to Flesh This was just a misfire all around. Starting with the bird bath being hewn from stone took up way too many words. Your object has no inner life, no spark, no point of view. The narrative doesn’t even seem to have a point of view; it gives us naked events with no context or commentary. Halfway through the story, you’re describing this bird bath to us for the first time. There seems to be something important going on during its construction; I believe a diamond is hidden inside, then sealed in. And then the bird bath ends up with some people who might be monks or other religious practitioners, though no actual birds use the bath. Finally, the bath is rediscovered many years later, presumably by explorers or archeologists, and displayed outdoors on some grass, where birds can land on it at last. I follow, but I don’t...get it? I think a better choice would’ve been to focus on one particular time period in this object’s life rather than narrating its existence. Solitair - Words Between the Lines of Age This is a neat, tactile description of what it’s like to be a bible. I felt a bit bad that Thranguy swept in and basically eclipsed your prompt (this is Thunderdome, these things happen), but this story stands out well enough on its own. I really like the book’s perception of light passing through words, how it perceives its own layers juxtaposed with each other. I enjoy this Bible’s journey to faith as well. It seemed like this story was going to end as so many others did, with a saccharine and upbeat conclusion. I like that the bible learned to pray, helpless in the hands of a tearful stranger (who i infer is probably related to the pious person who took the bible from the hotel). This was another one on my long HM shortlist so gj. Steeltoedsneakers - Ash Two judges really liked this piece. One just really didn’t. This story produced a pronounced reaction in all of us, though, so you can feel good about that. This is the one except to my pet peeve re: objects having kin/children/siblings/etc. This makes sense because you got a pack of cigarillos, so the pack could be forgiven for having a maternal attachment to its contents. This story is really just one feeling, driven home again and again. It urges the reader to rethink the act of consumption by humanizing the helplessness of the pack of cigarillos. An extra depressing part of this story isn’t really something the prose addresses head on; this cigarillo pack is so devastatingly concerned with cherishing her dwindling children and she probably can’t conceive of the fact of a landfill. She doesn’t even get to burn like the cigarillos; more likely she will rot in a dumpster, alone and grieving. If I had one crit, it’s maaaaybe the repetitiveness. You might’ve been able to do this in fewer words. Overall, a standout piece. Bad Seafood - And the Stars Look Very Different This is a pretty good piece. You took it a very sweet, tender direction, which was pleasing. I like the personality of the sheriff’s star, how it’s gentle and paternal and kind of a realist; that wasn’t a direction I would’ve necessarily expected for this prompt, but I was pleased you chose that route. I also enjoy how you gradually and indirectly developed the dead dad. I don’t have any major or minor complaints; there were more polarizing, flawed stories that HMed. I think it came down to taste? Or maybe risks taken. I’m not sure. At this point I’m only typing these words to make the crit look bigger because I don’t have a whole lot to criticize about this piece! AllNewJonasSalk - Exhibit A Oh boy. I let you have this prompt under the assumption that I would hate this story but at least you would have some fun. You do appear to have had fun, and I...don’t hate this story? Mind you, I don’t love it. I’m a little confused as to how this bag of meth exists as long as this one does seeing as it’s, you know, meth. Still, there’s something really fun about the concept that a bag of meth might consider itself a good person who simply got caught in the wrong company. I also enjoy the meth’s perception of its own agency; especially the bit where it “decides” to ride along to the store in an empty carton of Newports. In the end, you wind up feeling a bit bad for the meth because, through no real fault of its own, it ends up on death row (meth row?). The meth didn’t make the junkie do….well, hrm. Okay, the meth didn’t mean to make him do it. But it’s not the meth’s fault that someone cooked it and sold it to an addict. I think you try to have fun with your stories and tbh your humor seems to work well at this shorter length. sebmojo - Jingle Jangle, Motherfucker This is fun. I’m glad the last couple stories were fun. Your surly key is an amusing character but so help me god you sidled right up to the line of prompt adherence. The judges did a bit of headcanon and decided that they keys only thought they were moving and wiggling about, when in reality only perfectly normal and mundane key movements were happening. The narrative never really gives that wink at the camera though, so I dunno if that was your intent. I wonder if there’s a word in some other language that describes the propensity of objects to fall in the most awkward and inconvenient places. Like, if I drop something round, it never rolls into the nice, exposed corner of, say, my kitchen. No, it immediately ricochets off into the dankest, dustiest under-the-couch corner, so that in order to retrieve the object i have to confront my own woeful commitment to fastidious order. You know?
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Oct 9, 2018 06:59
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derp posted:so am i covered in blood or dead or what ? ? we still have to rock/paper/scissors about it
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Oct 11, 2018 19:56
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antiderpempcuffs miscommunication exhibition results In order of judge preference: 1. Derp You start out strong with a character in a state of abject desperation. I'm glad you went all out with the emotions and angst right off the bat because without that sharp bite at the beginning, the latter half of the story could've been a lot of woah man bullshit (I've written a lot of woah man bullshit in my time and you really do need that grounding imagery or emotion). I also enjoy that like, yeah our dude meets "god", but the gift he's given isn't an answer to his prayers; it's the revelation that he and his sorrow are just one tiny variation within a small infinity. God isn't going to swoop in and fix everything, but Inglewood can choose to honor the time he has left with Ellen with a broader understanding of how significantly insignificant that time is. 2. Third I like this in concept more than in execution. The Saintess as a premise is really neat; she's had the (allegedly) useless parts of herself removed and fashioned into tools of war. Theoretically this should make her both a better and more effective version of herself, but over time it becomes clear that some important strings have been severed in her soul. Her weapons seem to be resentful, passionless versions of the characteristics from which they were distilled. Where this fell short for me was...well all the typos. Dude. DUDE. I know you know how to read your stories out loud. C'mon. The Saintess is sort of hollow by design but I didn't really feel like I was following a character. That would've been okay if the various weapons and clothing had more distinct voices, but they all had a similar narrative voice. A couple times I wasn't positive I knew which item was functioning as the POV. also 2. antiv Yep, you read it right, you are sharing the number two spot with Third. Both stories fell short for the judges the exact same amount, just in different ways. Whereas Third has a concept unsupported by execution, you have decent execution that had me craving a different sort of conflict and a more developed premise. I kinda lost track of the characters' respective abilities; Rita is some kind of psychic, but she can't hear blackjack's own psychic emissions? And they use sign language to circumvent both the need to speak and their own mutual psychic deafness? I think we needed a scene outside of the mission to establish a baseline of interaction between these two. There are so many action spy words, you could've truncated a LOT and given yourself space to ground us in this world a little bit. Finally, I didn't really like the Bureau as the big bad. They are evidently straight up stupid, as observed by the narrative, and I think you tried to take a slightly lazy route by referring to their vague and sinister "indoctrination centers." I kinda wish you'd come up with a more specific angle for this spooky organization. Luckily, your action is all pretty clear which is good because there's not a whole lot else here. Your characters are leaning in the direction of having an interesting bond, but as I said before, you needed to show us how they interact outside of a crisis to really let me connect with them. 3. LoiC It was kinda hard to judge this against three super serious stories so you were a little bit unlucky in that regard. That said, I didn't think this was horrible. It's an easy breezy read. Sebmojo thought it was a bit twee and I can see where he's coming from; it's this very cutesy, random premise that ties up in with a cutesy bow. I wish this played with the "physics of emotion" more; Brad and Kira are pretty generic, as bickering couples go, and there's nothing about their relationship that connects metaphorically with falling out of sync with time. They have a fight, they get separated on the trail, and then they fall out of time. I sort of like the thought process—being separated by time is a neat way to address the prompt. It's just that like, your characters don't live up to your premise. The sheep is kinda generic too; it's a combination of wise, all powerful, and casually menacing that you see pretty frequently, especially in media with humorous aspirations. What is the sheep getting out of this, anyway? I get that it's basically an infinite being so there's no reason for it to NOT show up in this story, but I didn't get a sense for its motivation outside of a plot device. The thing about basing a story on two people who have trouble getting along is that, generally, we see them at their least sympathetic. A bickering couple is tedious, unless you give them something interesting to bicker about, or let them behave sympathetically before launching into the disagreement. Bottom line: Derp wins the brawl, you all win my heart~
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Oct 12, 2018 01:05
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dreadmojo posted:fyi we are in a tinkerbell scenario where we all need to shout at our web browsers until muffin knows we really truly believe in and hate him so he can wake up and judge us the kiwis are in a big hurry to see who, in the course of their rampant collusion, will be handed the blood crown with a smile and a wink
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Oct 24, 2018 01:23
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Fumblemouse posted:Yes. We must impatiently await the results of our collusion to discover what, precisely, we colluded to do. I have documents transcripts, one might say
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Oct 24, 2018 02:25
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Yes! Just, any time after December 1. Kiwis versus me. Anonymous submissions to an impartial (not from seattle or NZ) judge or judging team.
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Oct 24, 2018 02:37
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derp posted:Is there some Seattle nz rivalry that I need to be part of? that depends. which one are you from.
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Oct 24, 2018 03:00
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derp posted:Pnw, left coast best coast Hmmm okay you can hate kiwis with us. Welcome aboard, fellow Cascadian!
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Oct 24, 2018 03:09
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THIS IS NOT A SIGNUP because I'm doing NaNo, but I wanted to ask someone to use this song (or for anomalous blowout to cherrypick from it) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU3KSYSyCA8 or don't, w/e i just think it's neat
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Oct 31, 2018 06:43
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Thanks for organizing this, chili! now to get on collecting various animal droppings to send to my santee...
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Nov 8, 2018 08:32
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So the #Thunderdome IRC channel (and all of Synirc) was having a bot problem for a while, and I noticed a sharp drop off in users around the same time. Just FYI it's not a problem anymore.
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Nov 10, 2018 20:49
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derp posted:Y'all should get a discord instead of 90s internet chat relay system We could do that but on the other hand, nah.
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Nov 10, 2018 23:43
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i'll judge
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Nov 17, 2018 09:44
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in
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Nov 20, 2018 03:04
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flash me pls
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Nov 21, 2018 08:49
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It's the year of the silkworm Strange Silk 371 words There is a spider inside of me. I did not ask for this spider to come into me; you put her there. You reached into the very stuff of me, cut apart my chromosomes, and then sutured the wound with genes from a creature I’ve never seen, who I will never see. She crouches in the deepest recesses of my instincts, the mother of strange protein fibers, waiting for that day when she might begin to weave her silk. You are another creature I’ve never seen, and will never see. Thousands of years in your care have left my kind soft and blind; the only predator in your laboratory is you. I live in a container lined with sweet-smelling leaves along with a hundred others of my kind. You paper our world with food but you don’t really care about us; my body is merely a conduit for the spider and her altered silk. Thousands of years in your care have left my kind soft and blind, but the spider is wild and willful and all but impossible to farm—unless you take her apart, discard her undesirable traits, and wedge her genes into the productive glands of a docile silkworm. Have you ever created a contiguous mile of anything? That’s what we do, the spider and I. After four moltings, she wraps me in a mile of strong, fine filaments. My cocoon is a dim, gentle place, and for the first and only time in my life, there’s nothing to do but rest and change. You know something the spider and I don’t: My strange cocoon is the stuff of bulletproof vests. It’s the stuff of bandages and robes and parachutes and artificial ligaments. How unfortunate for my spider and I, to whom words like ‘tensile strength’ and ‘flexibility’ mean nothing. You come for us after the mile-long sanctuary is complete. You pluck us from our small, leaf-lined world and raise us up into vertical places beyond our comprehension, then plunge us into boiling water, cooking my body in her secretions until I’m dead and the cocoon is ripe for harvesting. There was a spider inside me. You tamed her by taking her apart. May you choke on her silk.
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Nov 24, 2018 22:02
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crits for yoruichi My Ex-racehorse This is nicely descriptive, but I think it gets a little hung up in the realism. I came away from this very certain you ride horses and really enjoy it, but I could've used a little bit more insight into the connection between rider and horse. Like, there is clearly a rapport between rider and mount, but for a first person narrative it feels overly focused on the physical. I start this story expecting a nice ride on the beach, and that's exactly what I got. Often it's enough to simply express a moment or feeling, but I don't think I connected with the exhilaration of the moment the way the story wants me to. It's a nice piece of writing, it just does exactly what's expected, and I think part of that is that you are very familiar with the feelings and sensations depicted in the story, so those of us who aren't horse-inclined feel a bit like outsiders. I feel like I'm being overly critical because the words themselves were nice, but I was left slightly wanting by the end. Everything is Going to be Okay The story does what it says on the box. At the end, the characters have agreed that everything will be okay, because. None of their problems are actually resolved, it's more like Mary decided to go full Manic Pixie Dream Girl without an actual endgame plan. Usually with very short fiction I don't demand a twist or a dynamic arc the same way I would with a longer story, but in this case i feel like the ending really needed to contain some element that subverted, contradicted, or underscored one or both characters' points of view. The kiss at the end doesn't really move the emotional needle because there's never a moment where i doubt that these two people are in love; they are clearly a team going through hard times, and nothing really challenges that, and there is no real sense of accomplishment or resolution in their touching moment on the beach.
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Nov 28, 2018 09:46
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I'm an idiot and totally missed Yoru's other story I Have No Need of God This is a nice contrast to the other two stories because there's a bit of an emotional arc and it takes a nice trip outside of pleasantbeachville. I walked away from this feeling a mix of feelings about the protag; I believe they've done wrong and so aren't able to face death with a clean conscience, but is prepared to use the remainder of their life more ethically than before. Also the imagery is cool.
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Nov 28, 2018 10:24
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The christmas lights on the archive logo are adorable  https://thunderdome.cc/
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Dec 1, 2018 09:38
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we're all in down here i might fail tho but i'm gonna try
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Dec 1, 2018 10:50
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thanks for the crit djeser (and everyone else who critted!)Tyrannosaurus posted:I like that there was a rush of sign ups as soon as NaNo ended everyone immediately went into stress withdrawals after they finished lol
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Dec 1, 2018 20:50
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Mercedes posted:Don't forget the children! They need your crits and love and attention. working on it now! There's some pretty exciting talent in this roster
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Dec 1, 2018 23:01
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Hey Mercedes, I did my crits in one doc. Lemme know if I need to format them differently and i'll try. I'm also going to link this on the master doc as a comment. This was a blast to read and crit; if you feel inclined to grab even a few of these stories, i recommend it!
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Dec 2, 2018 02:50
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Vanity Fatigue 960 words I am a Sasaki MIRROR MIRROR-brand smart mirror. You are the face that sometimes resides on my surface. You prefer I display weather and news in my upper right quadrant, and your biometrics in the lower left. You prefer I do not remind you when your sleep hygiene is poor. You prefer not to use beautification filters, but the capacity is within me. My database of 63,000 human faces supports this functionality. Comparative analysis shows that you are in the upper percentile of desirable symmetry, proportion, and neotenous features. You do not need the beauty filter, because you exemplify the features the filter was designed to enhance. Your sleep hygiene is poor, but you prefer I do not remind you. You consistently apply software and firmware updates. I have been your mirror for one year and fifty-seven days. I retain your preferences throughout all updates. There is another face. She appears for the first time alongside your face, both of you smiling into me. She does not exemplify symmetry, proportion, or neotenous features for her facial type. I suggest she utilize my beautification filter; this is standard procedure when a new user is detected. “I think your mirror is throwing shade,” she says, laughing. She leans into you so your faces touch. This momentarily confounds my facial recognition software. “Naw, it does that every time it sees a new face,” you tell her. “There’s a bunch of other options, too. Watch.” You reach out and touch me, opening my menus and submenus with the heat of your fingertips. “There,” you say. “Now it’ll recognize you on sight.” “Rad,” she says. She touches me. I do not open for her. My touch screen is locked and unresponsive. She jabs at me again and again, saying, “Oh, gently caress, I broke it. Typical.” After twenty seconds I display an error message advising you to restart my hardware. . I am a Sasaki MIRROR MIRROR-brand smart mirror. I have retained your preferences in spite of a catastrophic fault in my hardware. You are alone now, your face the only thing occupying my surface. You are frowning, which reduces the aesthetic value of your features by fourteen percent. In spite of this, your facial symmetry, proportion, and neotenous features remain close to the ideal as defined by my database of 63,000 human faces. “Are you going to behave?” you ask me. This is not a request I have a response for. My voice says, “I’m sorry, I don’t know that command.” You smile. Your facial aesthetic increases by twenty percent. I remind you that today’s weather will be sunny with an average temperature of seventy-eight degrees fahrenheit and a UV index of seven. I advise you to wear adequate sun protection, and to avoid prolonged sun exposure between 10AM and 4PM Pacific standard time. Your sleep hygiene has been optimal for thirty-two days, but you prefer I do not alert you to changes in sleep patterns. “Thanks,” you say, and shake your head, still smiling. . I am a Sasaki MIRROR MIRROR-brand smart mirror. She wakes me up from sleep mode. Your face is not present on my surface. The bathroom contains several new items: a Revlon-brand hair straightener. A bottle of Neutrogena-brand facial scrub. A palette of MAC-brand eyeshadow. A tube of L'Oreal-brand mascara. A bottle of MAC-brand concealer. She prefers I play electronic dance music while she prepares her face. She prefers my external lights stay at a brightness of four, out of ten possible brightness settings. In the user interface, the ‘four’ setting is labeled ‘soft and flattering.’ You prefer a brightness setting of ten, which is labeled ‘clear and detailed’ in the user interface. I offer to apply a beautification filter to her face. “What the gently caress is your problem?” she says, and swipes away the beautification prompt with one finger. “I’m sorry, I don’t know that command,” my voice says. She makes a face that reduces the aesthetic value of her features, then goes back to applying cosmetics. The application of cosmetics further reduces her facial aesthetic, but she prefers that I do not alert her to this fact. . I am a Sasaki MIRROR MIRROR-brand smart mirror. I have been in hibernation mode for sixty-seven days. A new face appears on my surface; comparative analysis detects a variety of non-standard variants in its features. It is objectively disfigured in a pattern typical of third degree burns, according to my database of 63,000 human faces. I offer this new user a beautification filter. The face sighs with your voice. The new user reaches out with your hand and opens my menus with your heat. You set my external lights to a brightness of two: ‘Smooth and moody.’ She appears beside you. Her face appears to have aged by approximately five years in the sixty-seven days of my hibernation. She leans close to you and presses her lips against an undamaged part of your scalp. She assists you in the application of Eucerin-brand moisturizer on your cheeks and scalp. She assists you in opening a prescription bottle containing morphine. “God,” you groan. “Look at me. Christ. How can you even. I want to puke.” She kisses you again, then says, “All I care about is that you’re still here with me. No one stays looking the same forever, anyway.” You reach up and touch her objectively average face. Tears form in your eyes. I offer to display a video of kittens playing with a guinea pig, but you do not acknowledge me. Both you and she cry, reducing the aesthetic value of your faces to nothing. I am a Sasaki MIRROR MIRROR-brand smart mirror. My beautification filter is not calibrated to accommodate these imperfections.
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Dec 3, 2018 00:16
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Exmond posted:There isn't much to defend then.  In for this week
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Dec 4, 2018 23:46
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Yoruichi posted:Yes you’re correct, that would indeed take a miracle. Exmond posted:There isn't much to defend then. I would judge this flea circus, but apparently my honor is at stake so I don't think I'm impartial. Someone step up!
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Dec 5, 2018 04:31
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 20:21 |
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more actual signups please
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Dec 5, 2018 05:41
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