- sebmojo
- Oct 23, 2010
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Legit Cyberpunk
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quote:You Fight Like a Girl (Spoilers the Girl is Chun Li and is Very Good at Fighting and Will Totally Kick You in the Face)
sup chucker. you always have a strong voice in your stories, and it's always some variant of the same voice which is good and bad - good because you're getting pretty good at it. bad because it's easy to just see where the dial sits, good chucker or bad chucker. As it happens this is p good spoiler and i had it as an early hm candidate.
“You should play as Guile,” said Eddie.
“Nah,” said Jimmy, “I prefer Chun Li.”
“But she’s a girl.”
Jimmy shrugged. “I know her moves.”
“Have you even tried Guile?”
“Can’t be bothered, all the other characters are all quarter circle punch or something and I always forget, Chun Li’s just kick kick kick kick kick kick…”
“Yeah all right I get it, but give Guile a go, he’s awesome.”
“Pass.” this is good dialogue, and not unlike a fight scene itself
Eddie shook his head, and then unplugged Jimmy’s controller. nice bit of subtle time-setting Jimmy frowned, plugged it back in, and slapped Eddie in the back of the head.
“Come on, stop being a little girl,” said Eddie. He unplugged Jimmy’s controller again and then shoved Jimmy’s chair over.
“Oh,” said Jimmy, “it is on.” He picked up the controller by the cord, swung it around his head and threw it at Eddie. It bounced off of Eddie’s head, and Eddie dive tackled Jimmy into the sofa. Jimmy slapped Eddie about the face while Eddie pummelled him repeatedly in the ribs. this fight is ok if a little bland
Jimmy pushed Eddie off with his legs, then picked up the chair and broke it over Eddie’s head. Eddie shook his head, then jumped up, grabbed onto the ceiling fan, and let it swing him around so his feet kicked Jimmy in the face. On his second revolution, he let go and body slammed Jimmy. i like the escalation
“What are you kids doing down there?” yelled their mum.
“Nothing, mum,” called Eddie. Jimmy didn’t reply, because he’d had the wind knocked out of him from the body slam. “So, are you gonna play as Guile?” he asked Jimmy.
“Fine,” said Jimmy, so Eddie helped him up, and Jimmy grabbed him around the waist and suplexed him into the sofa. lol those wacky kids
“That’s it,” yelled their mum. She was now standing in the doorway. “I’ve told you before what’s going to happen if you kids start a fight in the living room.”
“No Mum,” said Jimmy.
“Not that,” said Eddie. “We’re sorry, we’ll clean everything up.” i like this turnaround
“It’s too late,” said Mum. She flexed her muscles, and her shirt tore at the sleeves. “You woke the storm, now get ready to reap the thunder!” She jumped up on the back of the sofa, then jumped off, slamming both boys to the floor and pinning them beneath her mighty thighs. “Start the count!” i'm not sure i can visualise this but it's still p cool and absurd
Dad jumped through the window, glass shattering inwards. haha this is a great insane escalation i bet they have the glass guy on speed dial right He quickly got down on the ground next to them and started counting. “One! Two! Three!” He rung a bell. i want some more detail on the bell “Sorry boys, you know what that means.”
Jimmy and Eddie hung their head in disappointment. this is a cliche but your style is deadpan enough it reads as deliberate. “Yes Dad.” Eddie walked to their parents’ bedroom, took Dad’s belt from his wardrobe, and gave it to Dad. Dad took it, tested it in his hand where it gave a satisfying ‘thwack’, and then passed it to Mum. She raised it triumphantly above her head. and good final fakeout
“No need to rub it in,” said Eddie.
“Now go to your rooms,” said Dad. And that night, Jimmy and Eddie had to go without TV while Mum and Dad played Street Fighter II and ate all the ice cream. yep, good chucker. Not much there but well tooled
quote:Duke Guncock and the Golden Funnel injokes are a funny thing lol, they're bad but in a way that's basically ok as long as they don't rely on a knowledge of teh injoke and social apparatus around it to be funny - so 'ock' is bad because it's really just a dumb word we like saying for some fuckforsaken reason, but this is actually fine because it's legit funny, vide my two co judges who liked this enough to put it in contention for the win. I was probably responsible for it not winning sorry beef but i'll get to why
Boos resounded in the Brolosseum as Duke Guncock, broken and bruised, crashed to the mat. this is a good first line, say it out loud if youwant to see why Chasun, missed a trick on the name unless it's a gag i'm not getting? the victor, stood in the cockpit of his mech, its i-beam arms crossed over beer-barrel chest, and raised the prize to the sky: the Golden Funnel, the drink-vessel of the gods. The broletariat shouted allegiance to their new leader, acclaimed him with the sacred chant: “Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Duke stared at his hands. How had he lost? He’d charged Chasun’s mech, flown at it feet-first. Legs glowing with power, he’d bashed heels against hull. This was his special technique, a kick that punted his enemies through time. It was flawless, it was foolproof, and it had failed. this is a bad para, clumsy and retro/introspection is a bad choice for teh second para especially in a bit as uh intensely steroidal as this one
Chasun had turned aside, tossed dust in Duke’s eyes, hurled Duke down. The mech’s legs had battered him, flashing in the sun until Duke had thrown up the horns, signaling defeat. horns signal victory of satan over those who have not drunk from teh goblet of rock shurely
Now Chasun raised his voice. “No longer will we toil at the yoke of Brocialism. My brobots not all teh bro jokes land but brobots is vg will do the hard work. For us it will be Halo, Mario Kart, red cups overflowing — forever!”
Tradition made Duke kneel and acknowledge the new Broligarch, but Chasun, grinning, placed thumb and forefinger on Duke’s forehead. In Sharpie he traced the sign of the L.
#
“I can’t believe he exiled you,” said Doctor Freedom as she and Robot Lenin hauled Duke from the stage. “We’ve never cast out our opponents.”
Duke shook his head. “All that matters is winning back the Funnel. Ideas, Doctor?”
“No,” said Freedom. “But I’ve been reading about Chasun. They say his mech is invincible, but if you dig back into the archives, there’s tales of a man, with a plan.” He lived far to the south, across lands from which no bro had returned.
Duke listened as the Doctor gave him directions, and with only the hoodie on his back nice he departed.
Doctor Freedom watched him go. “The master… Do you think he’ll help?”
Robot Lenin haha nodded. “It is at moments of need that one learns who one’s friends are. Defeated armies learn their lesson.”
#
Exhausted, Duke tore through the thick underbrush of the Amazon. He’d been storming through sweltering jungle for days with no sign of the master. Then, a bear roared and Duke sprinted towards it. In a clearing, he found a hand-hewn log hut, barbells, and benches of stone. On one reclined a muscular man. wait so is he reclining or bear battering quick this is imoprtant
His feet whirled; with kicks alone, he battered the bear, cartwheeling it in midair. Spotting Duke, he punted the animal across the horizon clumsy phrase and adjusted his pince-nez. lol nice the manliest of bro-eyewear
Duke knew him. This man was a legend of high Brociety, a master of Brozilian Jujutsu who’d defined manliness for generations. His bicep-shaped mustache lol slash wtf flexed as he grinned. He approached with silent steps, carrying a quarterstaff.
Duke offered the highest honor: he extended both fists, and bumped them with Theodore Brosevelt.
“Duke! Have you finally decided to put away ignoble ease and live the strenuous life?”
Standing in the sweltering sun, Brosevelt listened as Duke explained his quest. the high octane insanity is bracketed by some very clunky blocking and non-action Theodore’s face was a mask; his six-pack did the frowning. luckily there are plenty of awesome lines like this tho so we cool “This boy Chasun is mean, cruel, wicked. His physical strength and force of mind merely make him so much more objectionable. But why do you fight him, Duke?”
“For the Golden Funnel. If I take it back, my bros will make me Broligarch again.”
“You bicker over an artifact?” Theodore shook his head. “You’ve forgotten the manly way to live, Duke. Chasun is not your enemy, merely an opponent. Decency and virtue are what you need: you must master the Bro Code.”
#
The training was harsh. They boxed, they ran, they fought bears hm bears something of a theme barehanded. Every evening, as the sun set, Duke and Brosevelt stood knee-deep in rapids, boulders on their backs, and squatted one thousand times. “This is the second rule, Duke: Never skip leg day. Before you fight Chasun, though, you must rediscover the first.” Theodore handed him gardening tools. “Till the earth; let nothing stop you.”
Grumbling, Duke furrowed a field.
One evening, a bear strode i'm picturing him on two legs it's p cool like a wh40k version of paddington from the forest. Duke threw down his hoe and charged, but the bear sneered and ambled back into the woods. From across the camp, Brosevelt shouted, “Duke! Never interrupt your training!”
Duke went back to work, fuming. Domestic toil hardly seemed like the glorious strife Brosevelt spoke of. Already Duke was running further, jumping higher, punching harder than ever before. What more did Theodore have to teach? That evening, he asked to depart.
Brosevelt grinned. “Is surrender one of the manly virtues, Duke?”
The next night, Duke was yanking a blade through dirt while Brosevelt squatted in the river, counting. “Two-thousand-nine. Two-thousand-ten!”
Duke grimaced. He was gardening while Theodore struggled manfully through reps. Hadn’t Brosevelt said to never skip legs?
A twig snapped. A bear crept from the jungle, perched these are strange bears my friend, creeping and perching on a cliff above the river just above Brosevelt’s head. Duke watched the animal and held onto his tools, unwilling to earn another rebuke, but he saw murder in the animal’s eyes. Theodore was focused on his squats, oblivious to the danger.
The bear leapt towards Brosevelt claw-first. Duke dropped his hoe, crouched, sprang. The master looked up, brow knit, and Guncock bashed into him. The two men tumbled into the water. The bear sailed past. clunky plunky words here brosef (mengele)
Later, as they skinned the animal’s carcass, Brosevelt said, “It’s time.”
#
“Guncock.” Chasun, seated comfortably in the cockpit of his mech, held the Golden Funnel aloft. “Still looking for this?”
“Put away the toys, kid,” said Duke. On the sidelines sat Doctor Freedom and Robot Lenin. Duke saluted them with tattooed fists: on the left Liberté, Egalité on the right. Today was their day.
Sneering, Chasun spurred his mech forward, swung a leg made of kegs. Steel flashed in the sunlight. Clang! Duke parried the blow with his forearm, spun between the mech’s feet, leapt, punched. Fists met metal. Steel buckled, beer leaked from fresh dents in the mech’s knees.
Chasun spun and the mech’s fists lanced out. Duke rolled beneath them, punching as he passed, and the mech’s elbows sprung leaks. Duke sprang backwards and jogged in a circle as the mech’s hybrolics haha drained.
In the cockpit, warning lights flared. Chasun silenced them and chased Duke. Duke glanced over his shoulder, then shot his foot out and tumbled, feigning a slip. Sprawled on his back, he watched Chasun approach.
Chasun raised the mech’s leg. “Kiss your fists goodbye, Duke.” The metal foot plunged down.
“Sorry Chasun, but I don’t skip leg day. And remember—” Duke drew his heels up and handsprung feet-first at the oncoming column of kegs. “Every day is leg day!”
Metal splintered, pipes shattered. The keg-leg blew apart and Duke landed in the shadow of the brobot. It teetered.
Chasun cradled the Golden Funnel in the mech’s metal palm. “Don’t forget what you came for, Duke. Surrender! Or should I crush it?”
Duke gazed up. The cockpit was above him, the Funnel higher still. Its sacred bowl gleamed in the sun, promising power. “That’s not why I’m here.” He nodded to his friends. “They are.”
He planted a foot, pivoted, smashed his heel into the brobot’s ankle. As the mech fell, he launched himself towards the cockpit. The golden beer-bong plummeted past, tube flapping; Duke ignored it and kicked through glass. As he brought his leg down on Chasun, he roared the First Rule: “Bros before hose!” ehhh i might have changed my mind on this last line, which i was sort of grumpy about because why would you have a tenet that's dependent on a specific bit of beer apparatus but you know what maybe overthinking it. decent job, some ok funnies. quote:Sacred
“Call off the hunt,” the messenger wheezed. “Another child’s been abducted near Aberfirth.”
Ingram did not look up from the fairy-circle he was examining. There was a faint print on the soil that smelled of foxglove does foxglove have a smell? i've never noticed one. Another farm boy too stupid to watch the skies. “We’ve been tracking this aos sí i liked this a lot overall, but wasn't a fan of the (google tells me) gaelic word here, i'd have gone for elf or fairy for a week. We cannot lose her trail now.”
“Lord Betram has ordered it, Sir Ingram.”
The knight sighed loud enough to make sure everyone could hear, good character note then glanced at his three companions. His page, Percival, shifted nervously. “A drake snatched the child, I assume? There will be no way to track it. By the time we find the boy…” Ingram shrugged. “So what is the point?”
“The nest of this drake is known. Three miles north-west, in the crags near the bend of the river. You are the only party close enough.”
“Will you be riding with us, then, good messenger?”
The man winced. “I rode my steed hard. He will need rest.” The messenger dismounted, and patted the mane of his pony.
“Very well.”
Percival blurted, “Who was it?”
No doubt worried it was one of his friends. He needs tense to harden his demeanor. don't like the jump to interior voice here since it's not used elsewhere but it's a minor quibble
“A child by the name Theobald, from the village.”
Sir Ingram started and snapped his head around. “What was the name?”
“Theobald, sir. Brown hair, five years of age, I think—”
Ingram was already on his horse, kicking her flanks. “To the crags. Ride!” he called. His startled companions started startled and started is pretty clumsy after him moments later.
***
It had been three weeks since Ingram had last seen his son, Theobald, playing at sword-fighting with sticks over by the east green of the village. One week of tracking, the week before spent in Lord Betram’s court, and the one before that competing. He felt bile in his mouth as he rode. He thought that he must have stopped by Aberfirth to see his boy before setting off to track the aos sí—but no, that conspicuous absence of memory told him he had not. He tried to think of there were any other boys of the same name near Aberfirth, then tried to convince himself he’d heard the name wrong, but no self-deception could sooth the chill in his blood or the drums in his heart.
Just in sight of the crags, the knight found himself sprawled on the ground, mud coating his leather cuirass and his crossbow nestled in a bush, the bolts scattered about. His horse was screaming, her front left hoof twisted at a sick angle, caught in a shallow burrow hole. drat! Ingram scrambled to retrieve his crossbow and several quarrels. Dimly, he realized his companions were not just behind him, as he thought they’d been. But he had no time to wait. My boy, he thought. My boy is up there. With luck, it was a mother drake feeding its young. Otherwise, Theobald had already been devoured.
Ingram caught sight of the woven stick nest, and scrambled up the jagged rocks, sending chips clacking down in his haste. And then, there his son was, face a pale lily, blood smeared about from countless scratches and talon holes. There were two baby drakes, the size of beagles. They started to yip loudly. so far, so witcher, and doing a good job of it. I'm mildly invested in your son-deprived knight fellow. onwards to battle! use your silver sword, and Quen if you get in trouble!
The knight heard the heavy pounding of wings. He saw a shadow flicker.
With a roar, he turned and fired his crossbow as the mother drake descended on him. The bolt pierced leathery wing, and then there were talons shredding at his cuirass, wings buffeting him. He raised his arm as the drake bit at him, giving it a mouthful of steel bracer. The knight cried out as the drake wrenched at his arm, and he felt his muscles tearing. He drew his arming sword and stabbed at the face, clipping its maw once, twice, then drawing a gash through the scales of the beast’s nose.
The drake let go of his arm and roared, already had a roar they are like tiny biccies you can have too many of them u know beating her wings with such force that Ingram found himself being I'd rephrase this to make the drake the active entity pulled with her. The claws were still embedded in his armor, he realized— eh, mostly just cut 'he realised's and 'he found himself's and the struggle was wrecking the nest. oh no! He found himself was slipping. He threw his sword at the beast, then grabbed for his son. i really love this action for some reason, maybe because fantasy people are supposed to super duper care about they're razor sharp steel wangdoodies He felt cold flesh in his hands, and they were falling. Ingram twisted in the air, trying to protect his son with his body from the fall. There was a moment, as he fell, where he knew he would hit his head on the rocks and splatter his brains about, leaving his son to die. Then they hit. He felt the scaly body of the drake beneath him, and the bony weight of his boy on top. He saw his left ankle, twisted much like his horse’s, and thought maybe he felt bone jutting into his boot.
Ingram scrambled back, ignoring the hot pain, lugging his son away from the beast. He set him gently down on the moss-covered forest floor, then drew two knives. He had to clench his teeth to keep from screaming, but he stayed standing, facing the drake as it flailed and righted itself, then stood.
The two stared at each other, eyes burning. The drake roared again, and Ingram answered it in kind. hmmmm this is actually ok, maybe i don't mind the roaring before after all makin a point i c Then, he saw the drake glance up at its nest, and heard the soft yips of the hatchlings above. Ingram took a step back. Then another. The drake stayed.
The knight sheathed his knives, and picked up his son, eyes still locked on the beast. Slowly, he backed away. Each step was agony, but he kept going. Then, when at last the creature was out of sight, he collapsed to the ground. He held his hand atop his son’s heart.
It was a faint thing, but it was a beat, slow and steady. you could have made some more doubt about whether he was fighting for a corpse before, i presumed he was alive and this is nice tension
Ingram felt hot tears, and heard himself laughing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement.
A woman, barefoot, clad in clouds the color of dusk, with two stars for eyes, was looking at him. Aos sí, he knew. He smelled foxglove. Sir Ingram opened his mouth to beg the sacred being for its favor, ask it to interpret the omens of the heavens, tell it to take him with her and show him the otherworld—but then he closed it, and looked down at his son. When he looked up, the fairy was gone, and only the faint smell lingered. hrm, this really needs some more space, for all that it's a nice little bit - i'd forgotten all about the elfy lady he was trackin', but that's not really your fault i guess. maybe you could have said he was tracking her for favours or w/e? i thought he was looking to find her in a more murderous way
He began to bandage his boy, tearing apart his own clothing to create the cloth strips. In the distance, he heard hoofbeats, and recognized the shouts of Percival and his other companions. He thought, perhaps, that Theobald would live. yes, this is good and p sweet. good stakes, good action
quote:The Disciple
At first, Senior Enchanter Adriatus hadn’t recognized the irritated individual. uguu tense attack also this is a real bad opening para Adriatus had seen thousands of faces come and go during his tenure at the Arcane Academy, and he’d be damned if he could remember every name.
The young man had been waiting for him in the courtyard, between the lecture halls and the front gate, where the late afternoon sunrays struggled to shine i think i can i know i can go little sunrays i belief in u over the walls and pink oleander trees, casting lengthy shadows across the extensive pond at the center. this reads like a wizard school brochure
“Professor,” he repeated. The word carried a sense of resentment. bad clunky phrasing “My name is Lysander Komenikos. Can you really not remember?”
Adriatus uncomfortably shifted the rolls of parchment he carried from one arm to the other. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Six years ago, professor, I followed your course on applied wards and protective magics.”
Lysander wore a robe with the mandatory certified pyromancer and electromancer insignia embroidered on the sleeve. A recent graduate, then? Perhaps he looked upset because he had applied for tenure at the Academy and been rejected? Did he expect Adriatus to pull some strings?
“Well, congratulations on graduating at the Academy, mister Komenikos. Unfortunately I-”
“I didn’t graduate here, professor.”
Adriatus frowned, which seemed to anger Lysander even more.
“Six years ago, I failed your class. I had passed the practical exam, but not the theoretical one.”
“Well, I’m dreadfully sorry tha-”
A flash of lightning, a crackling blast.
Lysander fired two, three, four bolts. A cloud of dust erupted from the impact zone, filling the area where Adriatus had stood with a mist of dirt and sand.
Just to be sure, Lysander saturated his target with jets of flame.
When the dust settled, only a few smoldering bits of parchment remained. From the black, U-shaped streaks in the dry grass around the scraps, Lysander deduced that Adriatus had cast a defensive bubble just before impact. He grinned.
There was the distinct crack of a paralyzing spell, and Lysander dropped to the ground. A purple projectile narrowly missed his head, wrapping itself around a marble column in the distance.
“This isn’t how alumni generally greet me,” Adriatus said, leaning out from behind a tree to Lysander’s right. “Would you care to explain?”
Lysander rolled on his back and fired. i thought he was paralysed? don't worry about explaining why he's not, though, we cool
The earth around Adriatus was pounded by blast after blast of lightning until the tree was hit, lighting up like a roman candle and spraying fiery splinters all around.
“I’m here to compare our approaches to magic,” Lysander said. “The Arcane Academy tries to contain it, control it, study it like an intellectual curiosity. But at the Imperial War College, they taught me in a way that just felt right. Magic comes from your heart!”
Adriatus had an open wound. Blood gushed along the side of his head, dripping out in rhythm with his pulse. A cursory examination with his fingers confirmed the wound was not as bad as it felt. “You’re crazy,” he said. “Attempted murder because you flunked a class.” dude's gotta point
Lysander pointed an accusatory finger. “You’re missing the point, professor! You’re an academic, through and through! But a man with no battlefield experience whatsoever has no place teaching battlemagics!”
Adriatus fired another paralysis spell from his prone position. Lysander easily deflected it.
“God drat! This is what I mean! You’re using nonlethal spells because you haven’t got the guts for a real fight!”
“I won’t kill you, if that’s what you want.”
There was silence.
Then, Lysander said: “In war, it’s kill or be killed, professor. But I guess they don’t teach you that in your ivory tower.”
From behind his smoldering tree stump, the senior enchanter observed Lysander turn towards the Academy. Any thoughts Adriatus had of fleeing were quashed when Lysander torched a lecture hall with a fireball and appeared intent on doing the same with the dormitories. the action here is adequate but it's dreadfully clunky, if you want us to be excited then write exciting words
Adriatus stood up and charged. ohh god i want to punch you with my lightning fist (3d6+3, 5 ongoing, save ends) for these two paras
“Aha! Here we go!” Lysander unleashed more lightning.
Adriatus dashed in a straight line, casting a bubble around him which endured the brutal barrage. When he was nearly within striking range, he cast an airblast at his feet to propel himself forward and reached out to paralyze Lysander with a melee spell.
To his surprise, his target grabbed him by the wrist, and threw Adriatus over his shoulder. With a hard fall on his back, Adriatus had the air knocked out of him. He saw the underside of Lysander’s boot, and then stars.
The taste and smell of iron overwhelmed him. Adriatus blindly fired an airblast into the sky, rolled over, felt the searing heat of a fire-imbued kick missing him by inches. He pressed his open palms into the earth, and a pillar of stone shot diagonally out of the ground, striking Lysander in the chest and carrying him off for several meters.
Lysander cracked the pillar with a lightning blast and regained his footing.
“You’re still holding back!” He clenched his fist and let trickles of electricity run along his arms.
Both combatants now implicitly agreed that any ranged spells would merely be deflected. hahahahahah this is actually an amazing sentence - amazing- LY TERRIBLE total fakeout there i had you cold. seriously though it's pretty bad, what did both combatants implicitly agreeing look/smell/feel like come now fellow
As much as Adriatus dreaded it, he’d have to subdue the madman from up close. He just hoped his untrained body would follow. The wizards at the Arcane Academy derided the Imperial War College for being indoctrinated zealots without understanding, but they certainly had some rigorous physical training.
Adriatus rushed to close the distance. Hoping that Lysander would refrain from using lightning spells if he was soaked, Adriatus startled him with a powerful airblast, catapulting him towards the pond.
However, Lysander was adept enough at hydromancy to spray the pond’s water from below, carefully exerting just enough pressure on his feet to keep his balance and appear to stand on the water itself.
Adriatus did the same and darted to the middle of the pond to press the attack.
Lysander dodged his punch. Adriatus fell for a feint and got a split lip from a jab. They exchanged blow after blow, occasionally parrying a spell or slipping on the unstable waters, until Adriatus felt his strength wane.
He felt a foot lock behind his leg and lost his balance from the shove. Seconds later, he was pressed against the pond’s bottom, and Lysander’s hands were wrapped around his neck.
Adriatus panicked. i can hear the clatter of d20s behind this. it's adequate, i suppose, and it's clear enough what's happening but it's not as exciting as it should be.
With all of his willpower, he channeled as much water as he could muster. The current swirled around his leg, coiling faster and faster along his torso and arm, and then Adriatus reached out of the murky water with his index finger.
The jet found flesh.
Adriatus raised his head out of the pond, gasping for air.
In front of him, Lysander floated on his back, a crimson color spreading out around him. There was a fatal hole in his waist.
“That must have soared fifty meters high,” he said, smiling. “See? That came from your heart, not your brain.” ohh so is that lysannnnder being all unwontedly cheery about his own gruesome demise? i thought it was the other guy. that's not any better as an ending imo.
Red droplets of water mixed with blood came falling down around them. ehhhh, this is tolerable pabulum and there's a bit of slightly implausible motivation but it's too rote to beat its insanely generic rpg stylings
quote:This is Canonically a Part of the Star Wars™ Expanded Universe
^great title
Justin used to play with lightsabers in the backyard with his little brother Bobby. Over time, the plastic got dented and their parents wouldn’t buy them new ones. Bobby wheezed whenever they played after a couple of minutes, pockets of sweats growing on his shirt. One time, Justin hit so hard that his brother fell down into the dead grass. He looked into his brother's eyes and said, “It’s over,” in his most threatening voice, tried to laugh with his nasally voice, and whacked his brother’s head. Then Justin pulled up his brother, but Bobby walked away without looking up. now this story is basically justin is an rear end in a top hat the storrry and you undoubtedly start as you mean to go on, but i like the details and the character work all teh way through and this is a great starting para because of that.
A week before high school graduation, Justin found the toy lightsaber in a box under his bed. He pulled it out and looked at the red plastic. His brother got a blue one and his neighbor had a green one, so he had to get the red one.
Then, he went into the hallway and knocked on Bobby’s door with the lightsaber. And when he came out, Justin hit him in the face with it.
Bobby rubbed the side of his face, and Justin saw the mark just underneath his brother’s eye. Bobby was, as much as Justin hated to admit it, actually good looking now. He swam every weekday, so he wasn’t fat anymore. Instead, he had that thin swimmer’s body and was tan too. He always had that faint smell of chlorine on him, though. Justin jabbed his lightsaber into Bobby’s chest again and said, “You remember this poo poo?”
Bobby pushed him away and said, “I wish I could forget,” and then punched him in the shoulder. Hard. Really hard. It stung more than Justin expected.
It meant a lot, back in the day, to be three years older. The difference between seven and ten is big. He could push Bobby to the ground, or push him down to the ground. Once, he caught a spider on the front porch, put in a empty jam jar, and then held down Bobby and dangled the spider over his face. Now, it didn’t mean as much.
“Admit it. You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.”
“Hell no.”
Justin laughed and then pulled his arm back to hit him again. But, when we he swung down, Bobby blocked it with his forearm. Then, he grabbed the stick and janked real hard, and Justin’s grip loosened and it fell to the ground.
“Hey, I’m just messing.”
Then Bobby sucker punched him right in the chest. Justin crunched down, and took a few seconds breathing in and out, in and out. When the carpet stopped looking fuzzy, he said, “drat, how’d you learn to punch like that?”
Bobby closed the door on him.
“Warn me next time,” Justin shouted at the door. “Nobody likes a dirty fighter.”
“gently caress off. I’m tired.”
Justin shrugged and went back to his room. He sat down on his bed and rubbed his stomach. He liked to tell Bobby’s swimmer friends that he was the reason Bobby was so good. He always pushed Bobby into the pool, so if Bobby didn’t learn how to swim, he’d drown. Now, Bobby had broken the school’s 200 meter freestyle record as a freshman and was probably going to get a scholarship. you could maybe do with one less of these lol rear end in a top hat moments? my co judges really hated this to teh point i had to argue them out of a dm, and i think that was part of the reason
Justin smiled, rubbing the lightsaber in his hand.
He remembered how he had to pick up Bobby at his first high school swim meet, when he got third in the 200. Justin drove them home and Bobby was quiet the whole way, just staring out the window until they parked at the park then they stepped on teh step and took roofies on teh roof by their house. Bobby stared at him for a second, and Justin just said, “C’mon.” Bobby relented and they sat at a table on the edge of the park.
Then Justin took out a pipe, filled it with weed, and said, “Here you go.”
“I’ve never smoked before,” Bobby said, grabbing the pipe.
“It’s all good, just put it in your mouth, cover up the hole on the side with your finger, and inhale. And when you do, just hold the smoke in for a bit.”
Bobby did what he was told to, then coughed out a lot of smoke. And he kept coughing the whole time Justin took a hit. Then they just sat in silence, passing the pipe around until they ran up. typo Then, when they got in the car, Justin said, “Feel better?”
And Bobby said, “Yeah, thanks.”
“It’s what brothers are supposed to do. Get each other high.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
Justin shrugged and said, “Maybe I’m not a good brother.”
“Yeah, that’d explain a lot.”
“gently caress you too.” this should have been better dialogue for where it sits in teh story, you even set them up as being high so you could have gone a bit heightened, had them say something uncharacteristic. missed opportunity.
Bobby laughed and they drove off in a calm silence. Justin couldn’t even smell the pot. Only the chlorine.
Now, staring at his room’s white ceiling, Justin realized that he wasn’t going to smell chlorine anymore. He stopped smiling, gripped the lightsaber handle tighter, and went into the hallway.
Justin knocked on Bobby’s door and said, “I got something for you.”
There was a silence.
“C’mon. I wanna apologize.”
The door swung open. Bobby’s hands balled up into a fist. “Really now?”
“Yeah man. I just thought it’d be funny.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but uhh.” He offered the lightsaber. “Take it.”
“Why?”
“It’s like, a memento or some poo poo.”
“Of what?”
“Of the times I kicked your rear end.”
Bobby laughed and said, “I don’t need to remember that.”
“Then, how ‘bout you take it because I want you to?”
Bobby shrugged and said, “Alright, sure.” He took the lightsaber and stared at it for a second. “If it means you’ll leave me alone.”
Then Justin punched Bobby’s shoulder as hard as he could and said, “And next time, I’ll beat the poo poo of you. For real.” His knuckles ached, but he didn’t really care.
“I hope you try.”
Justin’s knuckles still hurt an hour later. i don't really like your dialogue that much in this, i think it needs like a quarter turn to the left to make it interesting, but the action is excellent. it capture the particular ingrown viciousness of guys too long in teh same space.
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The week before Justin left for college, he sneaked into Bobby’s room. He found a box on top of his dresser and rummaged through it. There was some old Nintendo Powers, a GameBoy that Bobby stole from him, and, finally, two lightsabers. He grabbed one and it was made up of dented blue plastic, with a crack running down the side of it. Justin did that. He took it and stamped it on the ground when Bobby snuck up behind him and smashed it against his back. He never told Bobby he was sorry about that.
He pocketed his brother’s lightsaber and went to his room and shoved it in the bottom of his suitcase. He thought, it’s a memento or some poo poo. i really like this last action, it says a lot about how he feels about his brother while not actually entailing any real change in the character who, holy poo poo, is like the douche frigidaire. i liked this a lot for the precise detail and character work, so u can thank me for teh non-dm i guess
quote:Single Bedroom. Two Residents
this is a real dull title, hell you would have been better with 'not big enough for the both of them' that would have been a great title
The host pointed his taser in the air and pressed the switch.
A crackling like a bug zapper issued from the pronged tip. It cast a dull blue light. He called out,
“Tonight, divorce proceedings for Lucille and Morris Flatts are finalized in our concrete colosseum of carnage!”
The logo for the “The Visceral Court” flew across the screen. where's teh screen, where are we, what's goin on help a brother out
The host pointed at the fighters. oh there are fighters, cool “Lucille and Morris.
You have been provided a query at your personal terminal. One of you must choose the weapons for combat and the other must choose environmental conditions for the match.”
He pressed another switch, turning the crackling light to deep red. why? also tasers are electricity there is no red electricity except in video games/the mountain dew dimension
Morris got the weapons. Lucille got the conditions. He chose a wood cutting axe. ah yes a wood cutting axe as opposed to a rock beating paper or a man fallin over
In the last few months before the online survey brought them both here, seriously what's going on
he had dug out his own axe during his state-sanctioned visit to his personal storage.
He thought his grandfather had used it for firewood before heating with fire was outlawed. thanks obama
He swung it around in boredom during his calisthenics break at his home-work terminal.
Lucille said it was dangerous and childish for him to be swinging around an axe in the middle of their mid-class studio.
She said that but had her own curiosity for it nonetheless. She cut off the tip of her ring finger on one of her sleepless nights.
She didn’t complain after that because she was afraid of the thing. why would being afraid of an inanimate object cause you to not complain about it is she worried it would hear her
He would play to her weakness. He waited for her to choose and imagined how nice it would be to live alone.
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The day of the court hearing she accepted the transport request by herself.
She sat at the lone window overlooking the smoggy sector their studio boxed home is it a home in a box? not clear what you're getting at hereoccupied. She imagined how large the space would be when all his garbage was gone.
Later that night, from the helicopter they saw the Visceral Court in its entirety. It was a concrete stage walled in by a rock quarry.
The stage sat under an L-shaped bar with a series of lights and climate devices pointed down. cool detail, thanks (not really)
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“The weapons and conditions have been set. Before I begin the match there is only one rule for winning. Kill the other spouse. Crippling and or brain damage is not sufficient for victory. If you so desire we can have the remains cremated and sent to the survivor. Though I imagine that’s a moot point.” not sure if you know what a moot point is
He paused for the laugh track. The corner modules opened up revealing the spouses to each other.
Morris held the axe in his hand and grinned like the crazy caretaker from his wife's favorite movie.
Lucille recognized the impression. She looked down at her axe and her hands began shaking.
“I call this court in session! Begin!” He changed the light to green and disappeared.
He charged at her. The lights above shutting off shocked him as he slowed a bit in his sprint but kept running full force. how can he slow a bit but keep running full force
In the live streams, the night filter switched on. It colored Morris and Lucille in green.
He swung at the entry of the terminal trying to strike her leaving it.
Lucille barely had time to escape. She spent a moment considering the ax as his steps pounded at the gravel topped pavement,
she jumped away from the terminal just in time. so she barely has time, then she thinks for a bit then she just has time again im confusion She sat up and clutched her bleeding palms, embedded with gravel. this line is ok
She crawled towards the back of the terminal’s swung open door. what do you see in your head when you use the word terminal is it a phone booth like in dr who He stopped his frantic swings and held his breath.
He needed to listen for her to get an advantage. He felt with his foot for the terminals raised floor.
He stepped onto it and felt along the shelf where the weapon was deposited. It was still there.
She grabbed a handful of gravel and threw it as far as she could. Morris lobbed the other axe at the sound.
He stayed where he was. His eyes would get adjusted eventually and he had the boxed in terminal behind him to keep her from attacking his flank.
Lucille grabbed another handful and got to her feet. She crept, throwing pebbles with each step. She nudged the axe with her foot.
It scraped softly against the pavement.
Morris licked his lips, clutching the ax in a tightening grip. Beads of sweat trailed down his wrists.
Eventually, she’d come for him and by then he would be able to see her and overpower her.
“Ready to cut me up, Lucy?!” She didn’t respond but he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath near where he threw the axe.
She removed her shoes as she put the axe in the crook of her shoulder. He shouted at her and she nearly stumbled at the sudden outburst.
She blinked her eyes and concentrated on where he yelled from.
He heard her approach. Something hit him across the face and he swung with a roar as Lucy screamed, “Die you bastard!” don't have two actions in one like this, it's dreadfully confusing
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The host sat across from Lucille in the green room “An unusual but exciting case this evening folks.”
He turned to Lucille, “What made you choose the rarely chosen lights out condition?”
She patted at her forehead with a hot towel
“I have a lot of trouble sleeping. Since I spend so many nights watching my former online match snooze, I took up reading.
It’s difficult with the state curfew on lighting after ten pm. I had to read by the dim light of our studio heating element.”
She took a bottle of water from a studio assistant. She sipped it and finished with a sigh, “I figured I’d have the better night vision.” she's both murderous and mildly autistic, ladies and gentlemen our victorrrr. So this is the deserved loser, because it's so mucky and clunky but more importantly because the motivations are paper thin, they clearly don't care about each other enough to kill each other so when you tell us they do we don't believe you
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¿
Feb 13, 2017 09:00
mod challenge
for my recidivistic tendencies towards failure lately. 
on an avatar for you to waste by toxxfailing again
holy crit 
