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[Phantom of The Library]

I wonder... the Paradox Forums had/possibly have a writing thing called 'Guess the Author'. Basically, a number of writers submit short pieces of writing related to a chosen common theme or idea. The stories are then submitted anonymously and open to criticism and comments by readers (who also try to guess who the author might be). After a time, the authors are revealed and the next round begins.

What I was thinking was if the same concept would work here. We don't have the same game AAR authors to go back on, though we could use FG&RP or the DF community stories and criticism can be found here. It could be more of a game with readers voting for best stories (keeping it anonymous so no bias), too.

Basically, I just like the idea of a regular writing exercises the forums could criticize and rate without bias either way that comes from knowing the author. A competitive factor wouldn't hurt.

The original GtA is here if you don't get what I mean, and I am never very clear.

This sounds like an excellent idea, I'm giving it the Phantom Stamp of Approval.

[Skyrunner]

I give it the Sky +1.

[WillowLuman]

New thread, though.

[ThatOneGuy]

These are...various short little things I've written in the past year or so:

Spoiler: Monsters in the Low Hanging Trees (click to show/hide)

I sprint through the low hanging trees
the howls of wolves and other beasts rustle through the leaves.
The moon shines down atop my face,
keeping me going through this endless race

The thoughts of death ride high
Where pain, and misery are deemed to lie.
I hear the growls, and howls getting closer and closer
and my feet try to keep me going faster then a roller coaster

Yet as I try to sprint forward away from the beasts
They continue to gain on me
By the end, they are right upon me,
and they attack with horrible glee.

Spoiler: Dinner With A Monster (click to show/hide)

Jack sat down at the table, trying to ignore the creature sitting directly across from him at his table. The creature had a gas-mask somehow melded into its elongated body which seemed to stretch to strange lengths. It tried to sit squarely in the chair it was provided, but its long, sharp, knee-bones stuck up above the table's top by a good two feet, so it had to eat between its legs. Didn't matter much to this creature, as its elongated neck allowed for such movement. What bewildered me was how it was going to even eat the spaghetti.

I simply looked down at my plate, trying to avoid staring at such a horrendous creation that god-knows came from -my- land. I stabbed my fork into the spaghetti, and began to twirl it around the fork, "so, how did you come to...live, in my land," I asked the strange-monster sitting across from me who was highly concentrated on the noodles. I could feel its 'eye's pressing against me, death-like.

"I wass'a...born, here. Long ago...before you ever inhabited this...world," the creature replied, sucking noodles through the holes on the gas-mask. I stuffed my mouth with spaghetti as well, freaked slightly by its...ability, to eat the spaghetti.

"Do you happen to have a name?" I asked the creature as I finished wiping my mouth of sauces. I quickly gulped down some of my tea.

"My...creator...His title for me was...Bram," the creature replied, transfixed, yet again, on something else in my house. I couldn't quite tell though.

"Did your creator have a name?"

"No."

"Well...could you tell me when he created you?" I gulped in another fork-full of the spaghetti. This was quite possibly the strangest night of my entire life, and I was trying to handle it smoothly through spaghetti, and un-sweetened tea.

"It was...an older time...Long before such creatures as yourself...frolicked...among the lands." The strange beast seemed to snarl when he mentioned 'creatures' such as myself. I took a bite from the garlic bread that I had, trying to eat it quickly.

Though, this put thoughts into my head. What if this...thing, really did come before humans even -existed- on Earth? Could this lead to the discovery of an extraterrestrial-life form? Or the finding of a great darkness? I had to bring this monster, and the information I gathered from it, to my lab tomorrow so that me and my fellows can study it more closely. As long as it comes peacefully, no one will die...Right...Right?

Apparently not. Before I could finish the garlic bread, I was suddenly pinned against the wall by Bram, the creature that I had -begun- to think was slightly friendly. Its head turned, and swayed in strange ways, as if examining me. "You think me a...a fool? No...dirty little...thing, such as yourself could ever capture me...no. You are -below- me. And I shall prove it..." I looked directly at the mask of Bram, struggling to breath against the large arm pressed against my neck. I began to see spots in my vision, and as I stared at Bram, I could swear I heard it chuckling as I slowly fainted.

***

I next awoke tied down to a cold, metallic table. My mouth appeared to have duck tape wrapped around it, and I could feel cuffs of sorts wrapped around my ankles, wrists, and holding my head down to the table. A bright light, a light that people such as Dentists, or Surgeons would use during operations, hung above me. I was, also in the nude, which even though I had absolutely -no- idea where I was, was still embarrassing. I could see a shape come into my vision: Bram, the creature's gas-mask staring down at me. It appeared to be holding a very large, very long needle in its grip. It chuckled again. "See? What my...creator...did to me...I shall now do to you...you dirty little thing. You shall -become- different. Leaving your fleshy little body behind, and joining me...Oh, it will pain you...yes. But the feeling afterwards...That is the real pain," Bram dug the needle into my arm, and squeezed whatever toxic material it had poured into it into my blood-stream. Before I could even react, I began to feel the urge to rip my skin off spread through my body. It was changing. I could feel myself becoming colder, yet everything felt as if it was growing warmer. Pain enveloped my face, as with the bones in the rest of my body. I screamed out in pain as my legs suddenly lunged out, the knee-cap forming into a sort of...shape. The pain was horrendous, but as I felt it, I could feel the coldness of a mask growing from my skin, melding with it. I tried to scream again, but I couldn't. I couldn't do anything against the pain Bram had brought upon me. And as I laid on that table, the monster I had ate dinner with stared out into the night, waiting for the moment that I would join him.

Spoiler: The Synthetic (click to show/hide)

I woke early in the morning, my eyes dazed slightly from my lack of sleep. Slowly, and slightly exhaustingly, I rose from my bed, and stretched. "Computer, windows," I muttered, covering my mouth as I yawned. It replied with a simple beep, before the shades covering my windows began to fade away. It was around eight in the morning, hover-carriers bustled about, and the green sea to the west glistened under the morning sun. I stretched my arms, scratching my back as I did so. I left my room, used the bathroom, momentarily, before heading towards the kitchen to grab the carton of juice sitting quaintly in my fridge.

The Holo-vision turned on as I walked in, "This is Samantha Tateson speaking to you loud and clear from downtown Hinnsburg, this wonderful morning.

"We have breaking news from the City-State of West Litteton. Attacks from Android-Terrorists groups have been on the rise, with the capital building being attacked late into the evening last night. Nine were killed in the attack, and twenty wounded. The Prime Minister of Litteton made a speech on the matter, referring to the Androids as 'terrorists' and 'beings that must be stopped'."

I turned to the TV, shaking my head, still drinking from my carton of juice. As I went to go sit down on my comfy couch, a loud banging noise originated from my door, "this is Hinnsburg Police! Open the door now or we shall kick it down!"

Hoping to not get my door kicked down, I quickly moved towards the door and opened it: sadly it slammed into my face. I reeled back, holding my nose with my free hand, and muttering curses under my breath as the officers bustled into my mediocre apartment. I stood up, taking another swig from my carton, "what seems to be the problems, officers?"

One man, he looked to be around 6,3, with a large mustache, and the body the size of a gorilla. He stared me down, turning slightly with his gun lowered, "we received a report that an android was held up in this apartment. Do you know anything about this?"

I shook my head, taking another swig from my carton as the officers began pulling out synthetic scanners. They covered everything with them: my chairs, counters, electronic devices, my room, even my bathroom. They began moving closer and closer to me, and the scanner began to ring slightly. As the scanner hovered next to me, it beeped wildly, and emitted a singular, long pulse as they put it against my flesh. "It's him!" the officer with the scanner yelled.

Suddenly, the gorilla-officer turned his large gun onto me, and fired, blasting me through the thin walls into my neighbor's apartment. I groaned loudly, feeling a surge of pain in my chest as the bullet connected. I half expected to be dead immediately, or quit soon…but somehow, I wasn’t. Surprised, I let a shaky hand rise to my chest to feel it what had happened to me…
I found synthetic parts, instead of blood. I found machinery instead of organs, wires instead of veins. I lifted my head, and looked down at the damage I had received. No blood. Merely the innards of a synthetic being. I looked up to the man who had just fired his gun at me in horror, watching as he reloaded. At that moment, I realized my existence was a sham, my freedom of will and humanity; false, and my thoughts not my own. He aimed his gun down towards me and snarled, his mustache twitching as he stared down at me "Damn synthetics..."

He fired.

Spoiler: Letters in Post-Apoctalyptia (click to show/hide)

I sat in the crumbling apartment room that I had taken to as my home while I rest the dying ruins of an age long lost. Red laid near the window, nawing away at a bone from a doggy-treat bag I had found in the store a few blocks down the road. Rain pelted the glass and thunder roared across the sky. Sam gave me a letter before I left the fortified facility that my old comrades called home. It was non such a thing to me any longer, and this letter didn't help the nostalgia of it running through my head. I should have thrown it away, let it die in the cold and wetness of this harsh world, but I couldn't bring myself to such. Each day, I take it out of my pocket, and read it silently to myself. The words...soothe my old body, and in such desperate times as these, soothing feeling is more then anyone can wish for.
 
I'm not sure why I keep having myself read it. Maybe it's the last words that Sam gives me before ending the goodbye. Maybe it's a calling back to them that I'm not sure about. I don't know. All I -do- know is that the last words she gives me, are the most important I've heard in my bleak travels. "Just remember, you have the power to do what is right, and what is necessary. Which road will you take."
 
As I think on those words, I begin to realize that she was showing the choices I have. I can let my morals get in the way, and die in those harsh world. Or I can do what is necessary for survival, and live a ravaged life fraut with hunger, thirst, and despair. It is not the choice, or the words I wished to find, but it is the ones I needed.

This one's a bit older, and inspired heavily by H.P. Lovecraft and Cthullu-stuff:
Shadow of Lengburry <_< >_>

[Alexor]

I've had an idea for a work for a while now revolving around a person who gets offered his own private plane of existence and a set of godlike powers to fool around with.  (Naturally, everything goes terribly wrong in short order.)  After a lot of procrastination and lack of inspiration, I've finally finished the first chapter.  I'm looking to get a bit of feedback and criticism on it.  I haven't really done much serious editing, but I like the way it reads so far.  Any opinions or advice would be greatly appreciated!

http://pastebin.com/U00DYNHJ

[GiglameshDespair]

This one's a bit older, and inspired heavily by H.P. Lovecraft and Cthullu-stuff:
Shadow of Lengburry <_< >_>

I've got to admit, it read like a novelisation of call of cthulu: dark corners of the earth, to the same detective main character being asked for by a cult under siege from the police, whereupon he enters alone and encounters a strange artefact which sends him to the asylum, afterwards becoming a detective and travelling to a fishing village to investigate a case.

[sjm9876]

So I got bored and wrote something, and was hoping for a touch of feedback. i think i'm in the right place.

Spoiler: Thief (click to show/hide)

 We begin our story high above The City. That is all they call it. The City. A strange mimicry of the capitals of old, the streets arranged in a patchwork grid, in some places sparse and open, in others an iron mesh. And these streets are far from empty. men and women from all walks of life mingle under the eaves of steel and stone constructions, blending monolithic architecture with space age design in a blending pot of epochs. And near the centre of the city, a mansion., resting on the edge of a square where tight collared slaves trail home from their shift, watched over by the bronze clad soldiers who dot the roads of this metropolis. they look on without pity through their solid masks as men, women and children alike pass before them, dirty and exhausted, but unable to stop.
 Then there is a cry as one of these paupers falls. Those near to him immediately recoil, as do their neighbours, until the square is engulfed in chaos. The guards, expressions visible despite their hidden faces, move with haste to get inside, keying a code in by the door and causing it to swing open, as the pandemonium is silenced by a regular beeping. On the fallen slaves collar, a single red light flashes. And then the plaza is bathed in orange light. A rat in a far off block of flats pauses from its scavenging, and looks up, perplexed by the sudden booms. And in the square a ripple of air passes through the field of corpses, and through the now discarded entrance to the mansion.

  Jones reclined back in his wooden throne, feet up on the oaken table as he studied his latest haul. A few statuettes, nothing special there, but then again, a few books too. the university might well pay good money for them. Not that the buggers could read them, though. Much had been forgotten since the fall. And much had been learnt, too, he thought as he glanced at his chrome pocket watch. Idly, he pressed the buttons. Click. Vanished. Click. And there he sat. he smiled to himself, satisfied, as he waved a hand and the mural came to life. Yes, the fools may have had their books and their wood, but they didn't have the technology.
 A voice echoed from the rooms walls, as the tiles slid aside to reveal a pristine screen.
 ‘.....the theft of a number of rare books from the home of a high ranking official. if you possess any information as to the location of these items, report this to your nearest person of authority immediately.’
 He wasn't surprised there was no mention of the deaths. They were slaves, disposable really. A very good distraction too. Whoever had come up with those collars was truly a friend to the thief.

[dewboy]

hey, I've written a few things involving a DnD character i made. One link is in my sig. im to lazy to post the whole thing here but you can follow the link and critique as you wish

[Fishbreath]

Grumble grouse grumble mutter mutter. I've just send my website around to a few Internet serial fiction listings sites, and now my stupid VPS is down again. I do wish I could justify a more reliable one.

[GiglameshDespair]

A very short piece of writing. Kindly review.

Spoiler: A Fatal Troop To Join (click to show/hide)

They call us the Suicide Troops.

We know what we do will lead to our death. Operations have a 100% death rate. Not one of the Suicide Troop has ever retired. We sign up, well knowing it is our death. We go anyway.

We fight for Earth, against the cancer that has taken root. We fall from heaven in pods of steel, plunging into hell - in battle against the Rotheid as soon as the drop-pods slam down. We rally, clear the drop zones, see the next wave drop in like meteors. We strike against the hives, watch the Rotheid soldiers boil out their nests, orbital strikes lancing down in calamitous concussions. Their numbers seem limitless, but there are always more volunteers to match the swarming hordes.

We'll never give up Earth. We were driven off, fleeing to Mars and the moons of Jupiter, warping to distant stars on flash-point FTL. And yet we always returned to look at Earth, at our home occupied by an alien malignancy. And so the Suicide Troop was born, as we developed weapons, dropped in, died to claw and energy bolt. And again, and again, as the Rotheid blackened our seas and consumed the husks of our cities. Earth echoes to the screams of alien and human alike, a cacophony that will only ended by annihilation.

When the people see a Suicide Troop, they shake their heads at a senseless waste of life. “Earth is lost,” they say. “Let the Rotheid have it”. But their gaze returns to Earth, and their hearts go with the Suicide Troop.

We'll win one day. Until then, we go willingly into the storm, guns in our hands and blood between our teeth.

[Fishbreath]

I like it—it's definitely more up-front about the suicidal space marine mission. I'm not sure I'm buying Rotheid as an alien name, though. Would that world support a longer-form story, do you think? That's something I might read, although I suspect it would be a bit of a downer at the end.

I'm also not sure about 'lancing down in calamitous concussions'. Seems more like a 'with' to me there, and although 'troop' can be both a collective noun and a singular one, your use of 'troops' at the very beginning makes the fifth paragraph read a little oddly to me: 'a suicide troop' looks like it's intended to be the collective form, given the title and the uses later on in that paragraph, but I'm sort of expecting it to be singular given the first sentence (which I suspect is also supposed to be collective).

[WillowLuman]

A poem I wrote describing my first experience with a certain indie game.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Worry
What we felt at the start,
Not realizing it would work
But, soon, entered your heart
Triumph
Elation as you floated in the endless
night, not realizing it wouldn't last
Not seeing our path, not endless.
Joy
What was on your face
As you fell, never seeing the Ocean
Which you struck hard, and were
Destroyed

[GiglameshDespair]

A poem I wrote describing my first experience with a certain indie game.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Worry
What we felt at the start,
Not realizing it would work
But, soon, entered your heart
Triumph
Elation as you floated in the endless
night, not realizing it wouldn't last
Not seeing our path, not endless.
Joy
What was on your face
As you fell, never seeing the Ocean
Which you struck hard, and were
Destroyed

Kerbal space program, isn't it? My kerbals always seem to be constantly screaming. Just because the rocket is spinning, half of it has exploded, and i forgot the parachute is no reason to be afraid... ok, yeah, they're fucked as all hell.

Also, would you mind reviewing the thing i just posted?

[WillowLuman]

It sounds a bit like the prologue to something. I've got to wonder, why do they have to die? Is it just that the missions are so dangerous?

[Fishbreath]

Three years ago today, I started putting writing on the Internet. I've taken some (long) breaks in those three years, but writing frequently enough to hit a schedule has definitely been good from the standpoint of regular practice.