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Post by ch00beh on Jun 27, 2016 14:08:32 GMT -5
I'm offering up the latest Matriarch chapter (669 words) again for critique because it feels super rough, but I can't figure out what to finesse and what to rework. I already owe Pohatu a critique, so someone else should probably jump on that. Or Pohatu is probably going to just snatch it and accumulate words until he forces me to critique like a 10000 word post. PS. the 1500 word limit can be waived at any point if both parties agree. I just put that there as a starting point to make sure people aren't overwhelmed.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 27, 2016 18:01:11 GMT -5
Here you go Pohatu, have my nearly meaningless rambles: FARMGIRL? DRESS + BOOTS had become FARMGIRL? WHT, BLONDE, DRESS + BOOTS EMMA McCROWLY <- RAY JO BMEADOW - YEAH P/MUCH THE TYPE "CORN" POPCORN. ALCOHOL. FIRE JUGGLE "CORN". I'll be honest, I'm not sure why he's repeating 'corn' in his notes. It seems like much more of a thing for him to address on narrative as opposed to something he's making note of. If he is making note of it, maybe he should have underlined it or something? That said, I like his way of deducing the name, the arrow indicating that he meant it to go in earlier, and it's pretty transparent, as far as reading goes. And, on an earlier page, WHT HAIR W/RED - ASN GIRL had been extended to WHT HAIR W/RED - ASN GIRL HARUE [ ] - SO, JAPAN? Y BLOOD SETS ON FIRE??? NO DEMO. T.Y. HARUE. GET LAST NAME. Just did the research myself to make sure Harue was a Japanese name (not that I don't trust you, Pohatu), but it's interesting to see that Deandre is that well-versed in different cultures. Maybe being a bit vague with how he knows that, since it automatically made me backtrack and research the fact, but yeah. On an earlier page still, BLK BOY. ATH-IC BUILD had been amended as BLK BOY. ATH-IC BUILD JAMAL KADIR QADIR? <- JAY "PETTY THIEF"? "PETTY THIEF". DUMBBELL FROM HAX BY CARLOS HUE? SUPER STRENGTH – N/SURPRISE The automatic jump to "Hue" as a surname confused me for a minute. "Hugh" is a more recognised surname, and that's not the one that Deandre jumped to, which is possibly a choice on your end but it's another one of those things that's made me stop and question the choice. Obviously "hue" is a common enough word in day-to-day life, but it still strikes me as an odd choice. It might be because it's standing at odds with the completely understandable mis-spelling of "Jamall" and dropping the L. Also why he's repeating "Petty thief" is throwing me in the same way that "Corn" did above. Why is he re-writing it? I'd like to say it's more suited to the narrative, except it doesn't really have a place there either since Deandre hasn't seen Jay openly steal something. And on the page before that, the first one he'd begun since entering the auditorium, YOUNGER KID – PIGTAILS – HIDE U/DESK under which he had in the meantime added YOUNGER KID – PIGTAILS – HIDE U/DESK DALISAY SALAZAR "DO YOU HATE YOUR POWERS TOO" POWER DESTRUCTIVE? SHE'S UNHAPPY now lay ready with a few blank lines remaining underneath to fill out. And even though, for all he knew, this might be the one that would finally bring the auditorium crashing into dust, Deandre couldn't pretend not to be curious. With Choobs on this one - he's been struggling with other names, but Dalisay is the one he pulls off perfectly. It might have been more effective to have him spell it out phonetically instead of getting the name spot-on, just as a way of compensating maybe? I will say I like the sentence structure of the the end of this quote, since it's using commas for their intended purpose instead of as connectives. But he had to set the pen down at the sight of the black-haired girl trembling in tears onstage: His heart went out to her. What's that colon doing there? Grammatically, yes, fine, it has a place. From a reader's perspective, however, what's that colon doing there? These would have been fine as two independent clauses. Maybe shove a couple of paragraph breaks in there if you want his heart going out to have more impact, but it comes across as a bit awkward to me. When, a moment later, she asked in a quivering voice to skip her demonstration, some sense of obligation drove Deandre to cap the pen and close the book, storing both in the front pocket of his hoodie. No issues here so far. Only the white-haired girl, Harue Something, had managed the feat of yielding her demonstration gracefully and without losing face, leaving Deandre to wish he had that kind of composure, and (he was sure) leaving Dalisay to wish the same. I'm getting lost in the sentence. I'm not saying I don't like run-on sentences because they're a brilliant thing, but this one kind of has me meandering all over the show. Maybe just split it into two parts: Only the white-haired girl, Harue Something, had managed the feat of yielding her demonstration gracefully and without losing face, leaving Deandre to wish he had that kind of composure. He was sure Dalisay wished the same. I get that the run-on sentences are a feature of Deandre (they are of Carlos too, so who am I to judge?) but this one read awkwardly to me, like it should have been two separate sentences that got put together. At least the petite, cross-footed Dalisay could easily claim sympathy from the rest of the students – except, it seemed, for Almudena, who let out a disappointed huff when the younger girl asked to skip her presentation, and who didn't even let her get through her introduction: "My name is—" "DALLAS!" No issues here. In fact, props for the comma use right before the dialogue. I read the sentence exactly how it would have been spoken aloud, with all the pauses. I'm a fan. When Almudena grinned in his direction, Deandre forced a chuckle, a token effort to show her he was on her wavelength, despite inwardly feeling that the last thing it looked like Dalisay wanted right now was to have her introduction dictated by someone else. Content matter, as opposed to grammar, but content seems to be my thing here anyway. Why is Deandre trying to show Almudena he's on her wavelength, then contradicting himself in the next breath? If it's a character choice, I'm a bit thrown. He's acknowledged that (he thinks) Dalisay doesn't feel comfortable on the stage, but then agrees with Almudena's heckling? Again, no issues with the grammar from me, but... It made me pause and re-read it. Her reaction would prove him right: Dropping the microphone, red-faced, she shouted "My name is Dalisay!" And then a beast from a Guillermo del Toro nightmare fell out of thin air and lunged directly at the Catholic schoolgirl, jolting the neighboring Deandre so hard he fell backward, desk and all, and nearly cracked his head on the floor. Had too google Guillermo del Toro, but we're good. When he pulled himself together, blinking through flashing stars, it was to see Almudena standing bloodied and bold opposite her attacker, a monster with the hulking physique of an ape but the claws and beak of a bird of prey, complete with its coat of bright blue feathers. Not to be caught off-guard twice, the schoolgirl intercepted its next lunge by splintering her desk over its head, then followed up with a punch that sent the desk's metal frame rocketing toward the creature. Biggest issue with his part is that Deandre is taking in a lot of information after, I'm guessing, blacking out. I don't have much experience with blacking out, but I have a lot of experience with waking up and I can tell you, that's a lot of details to be taking in. It might have been worth having Deandre struggling with what was going in, seeing the images but maybe not quite understanding what hen was witnessing. It wears off very quickly, but it's a bit unrealistic for him to automatically be able to register everything that's going on straight away. If he did black out, which is the impression I got. But with reflexes that suggested a falcon more than an ape to Deandre, the beast caught the frame and hurled it straight back at Almudena. In a limber, easy motion, the girl deflected the missile and pounded one fist over the other with a defiant smile. Deandre couldn't help but smile a little at the sight, too; well, maybe he was on her wavelength. There was a helplessly infectious way about her – someone truly living every moment in the present, in a way he could never, as much as he'd like. Does Deandre know the reflexes of a falcon vs an ape intimately? Nah, I can ignore that, it's an easy generalisation to make. The semi-colon I get, but to follow it so quickly with a broken sentence is kinda difficult to read. I get the intention, but it feels awkward to read. Maybe just dropping "too" and "well" would make it read better? I get that Deandre has a narrative voice, and it works for the most part, but it's a bit awkward in this instance. In this short moment of calm, he looked first to the podium, where Dalisay was crouched for safety, and then at the bristling creature. No question it was summoned here by Dalisay, but going off her fearful gaze now, and her despairing way of telling him about the breakage she'd caused back home, he doubted whether she'd called the creature here on purpose. Maybe an emotional response to Almudena's teasing? I was gonna comment on his intuitive leap, but it's actually reasonable. No issues here for me. Of course the temptation, faced with those red eyes that never seemed to blink, was to use his power on this alien monster while he had a chance. INTERESTING. He knew it was a bad idea WAIT WHAT – using his power on nonhuman targets was a fraught business. YOU USE THESE POWERS THIS INSTANT In all seriousness, here begins a part I love. He'd given it up long ago, after the experiments of his late single-digits and preteen years. Dogs and cats weren't horrible: There would be something he could almost certainly understand, a heightened sound or scent, or a recognizable image, though distorted and filtered, perhaps all done up in the wrong colors. A meadow of pale yellow grass and grey shrubs, or a fireplace with a crackling dark brown flame. But the day he'd been young and foolish enough to use the power on a bumblebee, he got nothing better to show for his troubles than a headache and the implacable sense of carrying his body south. Something about this part bothers me. It feels like it's running on for too long, but I can't quite figure out where to put the break. Maybe a break from Deandre's whole voice: "Dogs and cats weren't horrible. There would be something he could almost certainly understand. A heightened sound or scent. A recognizable image, though distorted and filtered, perhaps all done up in the wrong colors" Something that gives every element a distinct impression that he recognises the difference. Maybe it's just me being a bit picky. I will say I love the whole body travelling south thing. That's a really nice touch. Too, there was the worst fear of all, the fear of losing one of his own memories forever to a brain that could never repeat it, could never even understand it... What is that "too" doing there? Deandre had no time to make a decision. Almudena was striding forward, calling to Dalisay, and the younger girl's encouraging response signalled an end to the fight. The beast should have known better than to try to take the boxer on at close quarters, but after breaking the digits on one paw, she detonated the ape-bird with one summary punch, leaving a cloud of feathers where it had been stooped beneath her grip. Without missing a beat, as if she had just done the most natural thing in the world, Almudena seized a spare desk and started back toward the cluster where she'd been sitting before. Deandre had enough time to right his own desk, pick something else up off the floor, and take his seat again before Almudena swung the new desk around and landed heavily next to him. Is Deandre qualified to make that call? It's difficult to swallow this one, though that may be because the entire post is more emotionally-reactionary as opposed to reacting to every individual blow in the fight. It just seems a bit weird for Deandre to make that call. I might have been tempted to put the "but" and just treat them as separate sentences, personally. Same issue as Choobs here. It's clear that whatever he's picked up is important, but something more descriptive could be useful. Maybe the colour? The rough shape? The texture? Just an adjective here would be great. "And, ah – that is my power." Since Dalisay didn't seem at all affected by the death of the ape-bird, Deandre guessed this must not be the only one, or that it regenerated with every summon. Weird assumption to make, I think. If it had been established that Deandre knew of the Summoners or something, it would make more sense, but this seems like jumping to a conclusion to me. I'm not Lee, I don't automatically subscribe to the whole "The General Populace Knows Summoners Are Bad News" deal. Even so, the whole thing just... I dunno, he's assuming "there's loads of them" or "there's just one" and that's... Well, it's very Deandre. That isn't a compliment, though. He was glad to see her seemingly more cheered by the incident than anything else, but found dazedly, not for the first time today, that he couldn't tell whether or not to clap. Among the first few students who did were the Scottish girl Nessa, and Almudena herself, who launched into vigorous applause and cheering, face red and hair tousled, totally unrestrained by concern for her disheveled appearance. Deandre swallowed. "Here's..." The necktie dangled from his outstretched hand. Awkward. It's awkward to read to me. That colon above seems like it might find a home here, but only if Deandre had acknowledged a few other students? But yeah. Necktie. Sorry it wasn't more constructive, but this is what I got.[/quote][/quote]
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jun 27, 2016 18:25:00 GMT -5
I edited your post to close up a quote that was eating it, hope you don't mind.
But anyway, thanks a lot! Let me respond to a few points:
* "Harue Nekketsu", I don't know, to me that sounds very transparently Japanese and not e.g. Chinese, Korean, or Vietnamese, though I don't know the general sound inventory of other East Asian languages well enough to rule them out. It didn't seem unfair for him to deduce that one. * I agree that "Hugh" would be a more logical assumption, but I liked having him tentatively settle on "Hue" since it rides well with Carlos' fashion-conscious personality (also maybe the One Steve Limit told me on a subliminal level to avoid "Hugh"). * The repetition of "CORN" and "PETTY THIEF" was meant to evoke incredulity in both cases, but people don't seem to have picked up on those so I might delete them. Deandre would definitely be incredulous of Jay just straight-up announcing himself as a petty thief in front of the school, but I could maybe convey that some other way. * Screw you all, I like using colons. * Deandre is trying to show Almudena he's on her wavelength but he's not actually feeling that way. Bottom line, he doesn't want her to think he's judging her, even though he kind of is. * Agreed that "too; well" could be restructured a bit, I'll do that. * Seems like people are blinking at "The beast should have known better than to try to take the boxer on at close quarters", I could see about rephrasing that. * Oh, what? I didn't mean by "summon" that Deandre thought she was with the South Pole Summoners. I was just using "summon" as a general word. Are we allowed to do that? Should I not?
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Post by ch00beh on Jun 27, 2016 18:28:06 GMT -5
colons are dope
i like "hue" because it is way crazily faster to write than "hugh". that's my headcanon and you can't take that from me.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 27, 2016 18:36:34 GMT -5
I'ma just sit here quietly figuring out what to review before I ask someone to review stuff.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jun 28, 2016 11:55:21 GMT -5
I mean, I really don't know what the hell I'm supposed to say about a piece of Biscuit writing, it's all so brilliantly and unattainably professional. [WP] A sweet, lovable, sandals-with-socks kind of dad is actually a cold (and highly sought after) assassin.Today is Friday. It is twenty minutes past four. I remind myself that it is not sixteen-twenty. Twelve-hour time is on the other side of the Switch. I am standing in front of my home. My family is inside, waiting for me. I have been on a business trip. I remind myself that I got moved up to an earlier flight, thanks to delays at the terminal. San Jose was nice. I got a little sunburnt. I brought souvenirs. These conversations are on the other side of the Switch. The sun is still high in the sky, warm and clear. Two blocks over a lawnmower starts up, backfires twice, pop pop and dies. I am standing in front of the blown-out husk of an tenement house. Everything is covered in dust and sand. I taste it on my teeth. The sun bears down through oily clouds of smoke. Gunfire continues in the distance, pop pop. I am still on the other side of the Switch. I love how the rules for this piece are established immediately with the phrase "the other side of the Switch". I would've said that the pattern in the first paragraph really wanted to be completed with one more "the other side of the Switch", but the end of this passage acts as a delayed conclusion to that pattern and it works well. However – correct me if I'm wrong but didn't we change what "the other side" was in between invocations? In the first two instances, "the other side" is happy normal life, but in the third instance, it sounds like "the other side" is his life as an assassin, which he's "still on". That fits with the fact that "the Switch turns" in the next section when he sees his daughter. So I'm confused here, although I may just be reading it wrong. Anyway the lawnmower ringing in an alternate set of sensations is excellent, no complaints about the execution there. I step through the door and the Switch turns. ' Daddy!' My little girl pierces the air with her joyful shriek as she bolts across the den to greet her father. I am in the Congo, and the same little girl is sprinting towards me, except now she is black and naked and covered in blood, so much blood, and she is not running to me, but rather away from something or someone else. This is such a perfect horrific transition and yet I feel like the final bit kind of trips it up. I mean the clarification that she's not running to him etc. It's a little fussy (especially the italics and the overly precise "something or someone else"), and you might consider trying to get across that idea another way, or even just leaving that bit out because I feel like I already had the sense that this other girl wasn't specifically running to him, just in his direction. I smell smoke and white phosphorus. Then my daughter latches onto my leg with her toddler strength and I'm back in my house. The Switch trembles, but remains in its place. The smells linger in my nose. I reach down to pick her up, and lift her high over my head. I smile and say something, I don't recall what. She seems to enjoy it, and cackles with laughter. I don't know if this was intentional but the word choices "pierces", "shriek", and "cackles" have managed to make me feel even a little bit uneasy about the reunion with his daughter on its own terms. So good job. My wife steps into the foyer. Beautiful. I don't have to remind myself of how much I love her. I am the husband now, the loving father. This is one side of the Switch. The alibi of the early flight rolls off my tongue naturally. We embrace. We kiss. I feel my loins begin to ache as she invades my senses. For a moment, I have forgotten what is on the other side of the Switch, and I am happy. We separate, and she keeps her hand on my shoulder. I want it to stay there forever. She tells me the neighbors are having a party. She asks if I want to go. I lie. "as she invades my senses" – what a fine phrase. I'm wondering about this early-flight alibi, though. If he ended up getting here earlier than he anticipated, why didn't he just hang around the city incognito for a few hours rather than making up this lie about changes at the airport? Is there any reason why you couldn't change this to him getting there later than anticipated, and therefore needing to lie about the airport? That would make more sense. Actually, I could see a good justification for the choice of earlier rather than later: maybe he got there earlier than anticipated and considered just stalling out the clock so he wouldn't have to make up an excuse, but couldn't bring himself to wait because the need to reunite with his family was too desperate. For all I know, that is what you intended, but it could come through better. Today is Friday. It is thirty minutes past six. I am surrounded by people whose lives I have documented meticulously, yet I must presume to know nothing about them. Oh, same, boy, same. Deandre feels you. I must remind myself that I am the husband now, the affable neighbor with the interesting job. My little girl is playing on the swings, my wife is sitting with the other women in the neighborhood, gossiping. I am with my neighbor, who is holding court with his work friends about the merits of a particular game of golf. The wind shifts, and the smell of beef sizzling on the grill wafts into our group. I fux with the phrase "holding court", especially in this tonally inappropriate but therefore pleasantly ironic instance. I was thinking about pointing out that the "gossiping" clause could use more detail, but no, no, it really couldn't – that single weary, inattentive word is exactly right. I am in Tikrit. His screams are muffled by a sock and duct tape. His eyes plead with me. I watch as a man in sunglasses tosses his cigarette on the gasoline soaked floor. I do not turn away. The smell of burning flesh is acrid, and sweet. I realize I am hungry. Biscuit, not you too! Get a hyphen in between that "gasoline" and "soaked"! But damn, what did I call the end of this bit earlier, a gruesomely effective pivot? One of many, here. One of so many. Someone offers me a beer. I am back at the party. The Switch is still turned. Inevitably, I am asked what I did in The War. I tell them I was in Intelligence. They ask if I ever had to kill anyone. I lie. Headcanon: The lie was "Yes." The truth was, he didn't "have to" kill anyone. The murders he committed were of his own choosing. But I know that's not what you meant. My daughter asked me, once, when she was too young to understand the question. ' I killed little girls just like you,' I said, ' They got in the way.' She does not remember it. It is the only time I have ever been honest. Perfect. Haunting. Today is Friday. It is almost eight. My brain is beginning to swim from the beer. I'm forgetting about the Switch. Things are normal. The neighborhood boys have brought out fireworks. I tell my wife that we should get home and put our daughter to bed. She agrees. As we leave, the first of many Roman candles is sparked, whump. A glittering red star streaks upward, trailing white smoke. I watch black shadows stretch across red faces, all staring up in wonder. For a moment, the faces are skulls, bones and teeth painted in the sparkling light of a descending signal flare. Another whump - I am in Tbilisi. Mortars are falling to the west. whump. A hand wraps around my arm and pulls me down behind the crumbling wall. It is my wife. We are standing at the gate watching the fireworks. The Switch is still turned. She asks if I am okay. I lie. Jesus, that "skulls" sentence gets me. Ugh, Biscuit, write something that doesn't get under my skin for once
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 28, 2016 17:19:36 GMT -5
So when I started this, I was listening to Train - 50 Ways To Say Goodbye. Not saying it has any impact on my critique, but there we go. [WP] A sweet, lovable, sandals-with-socks kind of dad is actually a cold (and highly sought after) assassin.Today is Friday. It is twenty minutes past four. I remind myself that it is not sixteen-twenty. Twelve-hour time is on the other side of the Switch. I am standing in front of my home. My family is inside, waiting for me. I have been on a business trip. I remind myself that I got moved up to an earlier flight, thanks to delays at the terminal. San Jose was nice. I got a little sunburnt. I brought souvenirs. These conversations are on the other side of the Switch. The clinical way in which every sentence is presented is brilliant. Everything is a sterile thought that's free from any kind of emotion, and that shines through. I'm on board. I may have been tempted to change up the following sentence: I remind myself that I got moved up to an earlier flight, thanks to delays at the terminal. And make them independent: I remind myself that I got moved up to an earlier flight. There were delays at the terminal. Making them separate clauses could help imply that there was more to the earlier flight, or that the delays could have been work-related, but that's just me. Moving on. The sun is still high in the sky, warm and clear. Two blocks over a lawnmower starts up, backfires twice, pop pop and dies. The lawnmower line feels like it needs something to break it up. I'm not sure what, but I'm stumbling over the "Two blocks over a lawnmower starts up". Maybe consider breaking this one up too? For a lover of run-on-sentences, I'm doing a good job of saying they need breaking up. "Two blocks over, a lawnmower starts it. It backfires twice pop pop and dies." [side note: I just moved on to Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time] I am standing in front of the blown-out husk of an tenement house. Everything is covered in dust and sand. I taste it on my teeth. The sun bears down through oily clouds of smoke. Gunfire continues in the distance, pop pop. I am still on the other side of the Switch. The switch comes up again and I'm liking it. I'd be tempted to change the following: Everything is covered in dust and sand; I taste it on my teeth. The second clause is linked to the first and it feels like it should be reflected. Otherwise, the pop pop already feels like a forced trend, and it might be worth changing it to something more relevant to the situation. Changing the word but keeping the formatting will make the point carry through, so it might be worth changing it to bang bang. I step through the door and the Switch turns. ' Daddy!' My little girl pierces the air with her joyful shriek as she bolts across the den to greet her father. Whiplash, but in the best possible way. The switch from clinical to emotive works. I'm noting the words "pierces" and "shriek", because those are pretty negative words. Is he unhappy with his home-life, or..? [Music update: just moved on to Lost Boy - Ruth B] I am in the Congo, and the same little girl is sprinting towards me, except now she is black and naked and covered in blood, so much blood, and she is not running to me, but rather away from something or someone else. And some of the above makes some sense to me. This isn't flipping to the hitman side, it's a memory. It explains why he suddenly switches from clinical to more detailed in his head. It actually explains a lot of his clinical side. I'm down. I smell smoke and white phosphorus. Then my daughter latches onto my leg with her toddler strength and I'm back in my house. The Switch trembles, but remains in its place. The smells linger in my nose. I reach down to pick her up, and lift her high over my head. I smile and say something, I don't recall what. She seems to enjoy it, and cackles with laughter. And now I'm really on board. There's a switch, sure, but he is a hitman through and through. His home-life is coming across as a lie because he doesn't care to commit any of it to memory. I would be tempted to switch something up, though. Maybe this: The Switch trembles. The smells linger in my nose. I reach down to pick her up, and lift her high over my head. The Switch remains. Just my opinion. [music update: Listening to 21 Pilots - Stressed out] My wife steps into the foyer. Beautiful. I don't have to remind myself of how much I love her. I am the husband now, the loving father. This is one side of the Switch. The alibi of the early flight rolls off my tongue naturally. We embrace. We kiss. We're doing good. The clinical approach is still here, and it's being sold quite well. I feel my loins begin to ache as she invades my senses. What. For a moment, I have forgotten what is on the other side of the Switch, and I am happy. Wait, what? I'm not sure if I'm missing something. Is this guy supposed to be a sociopath who doesn't feel emotion? Because I was on board before, but this part throws me for more than a loop. Ignoring the whole "my loins ached for her" (not a fan. this isn't Shakespeare and we aren't writing old fashioned prose), I'm not sold on the fact that this woman is enough to make him forget being a killer, when his own child couldn't? Am I too cynical here? Or is it a character trait? Because if it is, it's getting lost on me, personally. [music update: Nicky Byrne - Sunlight] We separate, and she keeps her hand on my shoulder. I want it to stay there forever. She tells me the neighbors are having a party. She asks if I want to go. I lie. Back on board. He lies. Which way does he lie? I dunno but I'm on board, since both interpretations are brilliant. Still not sure about him wanting her hand on his shoulder forever though. Today is Friday. It is thirty minutes past six. I am surrounded by people whose lives I have documented meticulously, yet I must presume to know nothing about them. I must remind myself that I am the husband now, the affable neighbor with the interesting job. My little girl is playing on the swings, my wife is sitting with the other women in the neighborhood, gossiping. I am with my neighbor, who is holding court with his work friends about the merits of a particular game of golf. The wind shifts, and the smell of beef sizzling on the grill wafts into our group. Is the term "neighbor" a conscious choice? It must be. We're back to the analytical approach which is good, and it's getting to be a better mix of his home-life and his assassin-life. I believe that these are things he's noticing. The narrative voice itself is quite chilling, and part of me wishes he was lapsing into the voice he had when he loved his wife, even if I did criticise that. I am in Tikrit. His screams are muffled by a sock and duct tape. His eyes plead with me. I watch as a man in sunglasses tosses his cigarette on the gasoline soaked floor. I do not turn away. The smell of burning flesh is acrid, and sweet. I realize I am hungry. Someone offers me a beer. I am back at the party. The Switch is still turned. Okay, officially chilled. I'm confused by whether the burning flesh being sweet is from the guy on fire or the barbeque, but I figure that's the point. Inevitably, I am asked what I did in The War. I tell them I was in Intelligence. They ask if I ever had to kill anyone. I lie. EDIT2: So I had something to say about this last night, but I've apparently forgotten what. For impact, I might have moved "I lie" on to its own line, but that would also have lessened its connection to the previous context. Apart from that, it's cool that he has the lie pre-planned, and what's especially effective is that it isn't actually clear whether the lie is yes or no. The obvious choice is "no", but that's not stated and that ambiguity is cool. My daughter asked me, once, when she was too young to understand the question. ' I killed little girls just like you,' I said, ' They got in the way.' She does not remember it. It is the only time I have ever been honest. Chilling. Though, it jars with me a bit. It's the only time he's been honest, but it makes me flash back to the part above about his "burning loins". So... he was having dishonest sex? Yeah, that's what I focused on here. I probably had different views last night, but I've slept and can't 100% remember what I said previously. EDIT: I apparently lost a lot through bad copy-pasting, so I'll fix this up tomorrow. Sorry about the delay in the full critique.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jun 28, 2016 22:40:40 GMT -5
*Liege of Infinite Verdancy is a... copyright placeholder. Bagan is no longer the name of Miko's ultimate summon since it's a different beast, but we have nobody good enough at Chinese to come up with a solid, badass sounding name, and the committee we have working on it has yet to agree on a name. So it's a placeholder, but necessary to the situation. When we agree, I'll retcon. (Though the full title for the beast would be "_________, Liege of Infinite Verdancy"
*Miko is the only Summoner capable of reliably conjuring food, or at least actual fruits and veggies. His Jade Magic taps into the lifeforce of verdant, photosynthesizing plants to create things. He could teach other Summoners how to do it, but it wouldn't be very helpful in the barren wastes with little experience or greenery to tap into. Miko's only so damn effective because he's literally tapping into the power of a forest deity that he's been sharing headspace with for years.
*I don't think "business as usual" for the Summoners in the Snitz era has really been conveyed, but what the Summoners did was send their best and most badass out into the world to scout for nasty monsters they could capture and use for conquest, and in the process, do as much to weaken world powers for their planned invasion once scales tipped (Be it some cataclysm or a Summoner finding an immensely powerful summon or such). Summoners were typically named according to their destination location (Iliana and Gerasim meant for Russia, Miko for the Archipelago, Detlef for Germany, so on) This establishes Salcester as being super-recent, and East/West Germany wasn't specified, so we know the current year is 2004ish, and that Detlef must have been wrecking shit some time in the 90's/early 2000's.
*I know the dead summoner was male. I think I might have reflexively avoided gender after a few pages of Gerasim. (For those wondering, Gerasim is assigned-male-at-birth, but is non-binary, instead living as a Varkadian gender concept that Vathale told xer about. The Varkadians have a third gender which hasn't been named yet, but is basically a healer/shaman class that forgoes having romances or a family, instead filling a sort of advisor/guide position for the rest of their people. Gerasim learned of the idea from xer bestie Vathale, and found it felt the most like who xe found xerself to be. Don't know if I'll ever have space to drop that doorstopper in a plot, but there's the in depth guts of it.)
*The whaler shooting at another forager was deliberate. I wanted for conflict with the outside world to feel distant, "Something that doesn't happen here" for Gerasim. That way, Natalie's attack feels like a greater violation of a safe space, more of a transgression. For the non-Miko summoners, this is their 9/11. (On the other hand, in the wake of Salcester's destruction, Miko's been frantically trying to shore up defenses, defuse situations, and just generally try to avoid a counterpunch that wipes his race off the face of the earth.)
All grammar and phrasing issues noted, and understood. I think I'll go back and bone up things a bit, but going to keep moving forwards with this scene and Dis, and save the spit and polish for a night where I'm not inspired enough for writing proper.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jun 28, 2016 22:54:40 GMT -5
(Pictured: Miko's internal monologue once he realizes what the repercussions for Salcester are:
Well, okay, like the first five seconds of that, on loop. )
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Post by Loogs on Jun 29, 2016 2:24:51 GMT -5
[ollies right in] right hello, hi, chief Varkadian Worldbuilder and Professional Non-Binary Kid here, just dropping in to make some corrections and additional clarifications to what Lee said, with Lee's blessing ofc: For those wondering, Gerasim is assigned-male-at-birth, but is non-binary, instead living as a Varkadian gender concept that Vathale told xer about. The Varkadians have a third gender which hasn't been named yet, but is basically a healer/shaman class that forgoes having romances or a family, instead filling a sort of advisor/guide position for the rest of their people. Gerasim learned of the idea from xer bestie Vathale, and found it felt the most like who xe found xerself to be. Don't know if I'll ever have space to drop that doorstopper in a plot, but there's the in depth guts of it. We just conferred on this a few minutes ago (because some of this is news to me, actually) and we have instead decided that Gerasim was born to a Varkadian mother and a Summoner father living among a Varkadian camp and thus, Gerasim was raised into the role instead of adopting it as an outsider. I had to step in for a couple of reasons; a big one is that traditionally, real third genders are very heavily rooted in the culture they came from. (This is why, for example, it is quite frowned upon to identify as two-spirit if you aren't Native.) Therefore, it's virtually futile for anyone who isn't Varkadian to identify as yangosha, and it has to do with Varkadian gender roles and culture in general: the society is very matrilineal, because Varkadian magic is inherited only by females; additionally, Varkadians are nomads who live communally and have large families. Yangosha, then, are AMAB and take on a protective and nurturing role similar to the one occupied by Varkadian women, except instead of being responsible for their own children, they traditionally help take care of the whole commune. One of their most important jobs is acting as a midwife/doula for expectant mothers and delivering babies(!) Gerasim and Vathalé grew up in, and were rescued from, the same Varkadian camp together. Not only have they had their way of life taken away from them by the Russians, they've also been forcibly assimilated into the patriarchal, militaristic Summoner culture diametrically opposed to their own. This information really should be part of some kind of "Home is a Place" discussion thread but it's not oops sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also: If it had been established that Deandre knew of the Summoners or something, it would make more sense, but this seems like jumping to a conclusion to me. I'm not Lee, I don't automatically subscribe to the whole "The General Populace Knows Summoners Are Bad News" deal. Summoners™, Summons™, and Summoning™ are copyright Lee 2016 donut steel in all seriousness I'm not so sure that summoning powers are exclusive to the Summoners, even in the ORP universe idk also also: I have Hatu's kingsmen post pulled up on MS Word right now I am working on it I promise stop bothering me dad
[ollies tf back out]
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Jun 29, 2016 16:13:42 GMT -5
Okay I edited back in the end of my post, though it's probably not as exciting as anyone was hoping.
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Post by Loogs on Jul 18, 2016 23:00:44 GMT -5
If she could have swept them all at a stroke from the cobblestones and into the harbour, she would have, only for ruining the music – this new percussion wing the Highlord had seen fit to install in her district. I don’t know why this sentence is bothering me, maybe it’s the fact that I feel like that bit after the em-dash should be an independent clause? shruggie The plodding footfall and clanking iron of the First Legion encroached everywhere on the harbour's natural melody of lapping water and rasping wood, the merchant's call and the sailor's horn and the seagull's cry. There was too strict a meter in the sound of soldiers as they marched their black and copper line from dock to dock and stall to stall, inspecting the cargo, questioning the wares, fixing their appraising eyes on every fisher who lingered too long or wore the wrong look. Mother had sighed and rubbed her brow when the Highlord's edict had come down, entreating her to set a guild of wrights to the task of cleaning and refitting every one of the kingdom's warships, from the grandest carracks dressed in their violet sails to the humblest cogs she could haul from the corners of the royal boathouses. As to what threat precisely the Highlord imagined closing in over the sea, perhaps Mother could guess, but Isara Leral allowed she could not. If she was certain of one thing, it was only that the Highlord would seize any excuse he could to muffle the harbour's song still further with the cymbal crash of cannon. I have a feeling Nadeshi and Isara are going to be fast friends. If I have anything to say about this so far, it’s that it reads very stuffily, but you’d want that in a pseudo-medieval fantasy piece featuring royal types. I’m just not very good at absorbing info from writing like this. The familiar silver bells chimed overhead as she pushed open the door into Gladdig's fish-house. The monger was too particular about his meats to carry on his business in the open air, and it was known that inner-city dwellers out for a day on the front would hurry on past his shop, fearing to be laid flat by the smell that escaped every time those bells rang. Those of the harbour, though, who knew the sea and its gifts as no courtly retainer could, swore up and down that monger Gladdig's fish-house offered the most savory meat anywhere on the waters. In a way, Isara loved the stench; loved, too, the glittering quilt of scales over every table, briefly sparkling in the morning light from the door she held open. “glittering quilt of scales” is good, nice turn of phrase, good job. The heavyset man with the ornate mustache, two rings jingling in each ear, though engaged with another customer, was quick to greet her upon her arrival. "Lady Isara – a pleasure that you visit my little house." "A pleasure to see you, sir. You've enjoyed a rich haul the past weeks," she replied, gazing around the walls, where the smaller sharks hung from hooks. Then, pointing to a rack of vivid orange salmon flesh, she added, "The carp is especially fine." And, catching her eye, he gave the expected response: "There's finer in the back chamber, if you should please." So like… mislabeling the salmon is part of the ~*Secret Code*~, right… I’m not just being stupid and thinking “salmon aren’t related to carp………are they” Isara nodded, and the fat man motioned for his wife Wenn to take over duties at the board. Then she followed him around the corner and down a half-flight into the vault beyond, a cooled room of stone lit only by candles and filled with salt barrels. She closed the door behind them. "To the bottom with those soldiers," Gladdig grumbled at once. The smile beneath his mustache had disappeared. "They've driven down trade all along the front. He couldn't expect that the people should lack to notice! They keep to their homes for fear they tread the wrong path and land in a prison cell. The First Legion never earned the repute of mildness." He frowned at her. "Couldn't your mother...?" "I hardly think I need to say it, Gladdig, but House Leral speaks no word in the dispatch of soldiers." Isara folded her arms. "We can be sure the Highlord won't withdraw his guard until some months after he deems any danger is passed. And won't you and I play a part in that? What have you heard?" The monger rested his elbows on a barrel. Silence, but for the drip of water on rock, held a few seconds. "The name of House Avrae, more than anything else," he said. this is mostly reading fine I guess She tensed at that, then chided herself: it was no less than she should have expected, and in honesty the name was one she'd pondered as well, of late. In the shadows she hoped that the brief change over her features went unnoticed. "The common slander, I'll take it? A plot to creep in and steal the throne from beneath the Highlord's rump? Oh if Balasar and his misty band had levied a tenth as many treasonous schemes as I've heard ascribed them, they could only be the most pitiful traitors in history." okay again, disclaimer that I have moderate ADHD, but I think my biggest grievance with Kingsmen as a whole is just all of the names being thrown at me and feeling dumb because I keep feeling like I should know who these people are but instead I’m just like……….which one is Balasar again I want RP Cliffs Notes to be a thing so I can cross-reference it as I’m reading and then I won’t get lost halfway into Hatu’s posts But Gladdig shook his great head, sending the rings to clamor anew. "The very opposite, lady. It's said that House Avrae are forgetting their place and carrying out murders undecreed, not against the crown, but rather against those who they imagine would threaten it." Isara blinked. "Tris Bentha?" "A good youth, and kind to all, as I'll tell you myself, lady, if you hadn't the chance to meet him. But there are those who question Sinda and Jhan Bentha's fealty—" "If House Avrae believed they were undertaking this task as a boon to the kingdom, they would've made it known to the Highlord," she protested, crunching salt underfoot with a step closer. "It does them no more good than the rest of us that he should throw the city into a panic." Gladdig shrugged his beefy shoulders. "That's so – unless there's a name further down Balasar's list that he already knows he could never persuade Lord Valon to condemn to death..." Again, you’re doing a good job of matching the writing style to the tone and setting of the story, particularly with the syntax that the vocabulary you’re using necessitates, and the vocabulary itself. Unfortunately, this style of writing is the hardest for me to absorb simply because I have to take an extra second to finish processing what’s being conveyed to me because the syntax/vocabulary is so archaic. (I’m kinda not into pre-twentieth century literature tbh) Luckily though, you don’t lay it on thick, so I can still process and enjoy the story, it’s just that when you do go flowery prose on me, I tend to get a bit lost. The fact that a lot of it is just dialogue is a huge plus. On her way out of the fish-house, back into the salt air amid the tents and barrows, and consigning herself once again to the patrol's endless clamor, the patter of another pair of feet followed her over the stones. She turned to see a child of sun-bronzed skin, dressed in the familiar bleached cloth of the harbour urchins. He held something out to her. "Beautiful lady," he piped, "a gift for my lady of the sea, I carved it for you myself..." It was a whittled wood model of a fish. The texture was appropriately rough and bumpy, but the grooves on the fins were a sight too well-hewn for a boy of not even ten. Someone had taken too much liberty with this. Still, she accepted it, and favored him with a smile. "Thank you, my sweet thing." He bowed knock-kneed to her, and she walked on. After passing another company of soldiers, she swept gently into an undisturbed alley with nothing but a few unused clotheslines dangling overhead, and tipped the fish forward to let the scroll of paper drop out of its mouth and into her palm. ROSEHILL MARKET. TEN O'CLOCK.The scroll was marked with a pair of crossed lines, and a scribble curling around the both of them, evoking in a few strokes the intertwined daggers and chain of House Avrae. Isara strode from the alley and walked along the water's edge, moving toward the newest ship to land anchor. As she walked, the paper slipped from her grasp and rode a sudden breeze, and she watched it dissolve on the black water below. The fish she gave in passing to the daughter of a family of traders, as a toy. This is all really strong imagery writing. King’s Men is such a furtive, mysterious bag that I keep wondering what seemingly throwaway mentions will and won’t pop up again in the future; namely, those traders right there. Perhaps I am overthinking things! Who knows! The Redcurrant had already laid bridge by the time she reached its dock, and sinewy sailors were hauling crates and casks off the handsome caravel. The sails were a deep blue, and bore the pattern of a silver moon and a cresting wave; it was the standard that announced this ship to be under the protection of House Leral. The captain, a hard-lined woman of grey-brown hair and some fifty years in a great longcoat, stood at the bow and directed them, but when she spied Isara approaching, she called the first mate to her post and trod, with a slight limp, over the planks to shore. Magden Mitroch greeted her with a hearty "Ho, my lady!" Aww, see, if there was any place to implement that “values” narrative quirk, it’s this post right here. There’s all sorts of vivid sights to assign cool obscure words too. Yes, I’m aware this is from Isara’s perspective, but damn if I wouldn’t want to read this scene from Esther’s just so I can watch her go Word Pantone on this shit "Welcome back, captain." Isara clapped the older woman's shoulders. "A fair journey?" "Not one wind out of place," Mitroch proclaimed. "And a proper haul from the Archipelago too, I can tell you, good oranges and peaches and mangos – enough for five coronations! We've made it on time, I hope, or did he name an earlier...?" "No, you're in good time, Sabriel hasn't yet taken crown." "Then they'll feast well." The captain squinted up and down the waterfront, ringed overhead by yawping seagulls, and heaved a sigh. "Truth be told, lady, I may well sleep through the whole of it, but just you tell them 'round the table it was Magden Mitroch sailed the blue in double time to see that peach pie onto their plates, will you?" yes okay but when are you going to give Mitroch a cameo in Anchor more seriously, this is reading fine. It’s kind of starting to read Actual Pantone with all these damn colors n shit (this is good though. in case you didn’t notice I absolutely fuck with both colors and Pantone)"As to the feasting and all," Isara spoke in a measured tone, "I might ask about your other cargo." "Oh, she's all right. She'll be up and about deck presently, I'm sure." Isara fished a small pouch of silver from the folds of her dress. This she offered to the older woman. "From Lady Kallista," she said, "for your trouble..." There is some neat mirroring going on in this last paragraph, namely with the earlier bit where the boy offers Isara the fish. Look, you even use the word “fish” despite there being no actual fish here. Whether intentional or not, I See What You Did There™ But Mitroch threw back her head and laughed at this. "Not my trouble, it was the girl's trouble, wasn't it!" she cried. "I had the cabin to spare and no mind of a passenger, least of all one keeps to herself. But the poor lass doesn't belong on the sea, I fear. She'll tell you much the same." Seemingly on a second thought, she accepted the pouch. "I'll see a share of it goes to Selbert," she went on, still chuckling. "It was him had to clean up after the girl lost her stomach on the second day out. "Funny thing," she added, after dropping the pouch into a pocket of her coat. "Here he was with the mop and bucket, and didn't she keep telling him it was all right, it was all right, she'd clean it up herself. Only she wasn't asking him for the mop, she just kept flipping through this little book of hers, saying she could do it. As if she wanted instructions for wiping her own sick off a wooden floor!" Mitroch shook her head. "A strange girl, lady." Isara only gestured behind them to the gleaming copper trim in the armor of the First Legion still stomping their discordant tune on the cobblestones. "It's a strange port she's washed up on, stranger than you left it, Mag, as you'll see." Then she saw the cargo. A girl of perhaps twenty, with a thick mop of black, curly hair, clad in a thick woollen cinnamon-colored sweater, was hoisting her bag along the bridge from the Redcurrant to shore. She did look a touch sickly, to be sure. Halfway along the bridge she gave a stagger and Isara foresaw her dropping the overstuffed bag into the bay, but the girl managed her way to the other side, luggage and all, and stood regarding the waterfront's long line of shops and stations with fatigued awe. "Esther Damrosch," Isara announced with a polite smile and arms spread wide, "on behalf of the Highlord, I welcome you to Drakengrad." Again with this Pantone shit, seriously are all lengthy RP posts this palette-heavy or am I just unusually fixated on all the color words being dropped in this scene? It’s still a neat narrative tool, it’s just I’m not sure how common it actually is but if I keep being drawn to it, then it must be deliberate………right All in all, a nice post, contributes to King’s Men’s secondary function as a Drakengrad worldbuilding piece. Still though, in retrospect I really do want Esther’s voice here??? Even just like, at the end? Here’s the thing, and I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this: this is my first Esther experience. I actually had to consult the TVTropes page to even tell you that she was in Crystal Pt. 2, and that’s it; I don’t have the foggiest as to what else she was in, but I guess that’s what I get for being absent from like, every plot that has ever actually mattered. So while everyone else has probably already gotten to know her, I sure haven’t. But now that I got a taste of what her narrative style is like, I would have loved it here, with so many detail-rich opportunities. Everything else about this post is fine and good, don’t let my sudden outburst at the end here put a damper on what you’ve actually written. whoops [EDIT] - I appreciate and even need feedback on my writing from time to time, but I feel bad that I'm not good at doing these post-by-post critiques. I'm so much more a big-picture thinker than a scrutinized-detail one, so my critiques tend to focus on how something fits into the narrative as a whole. shrug
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jul 19, 2016 7:25:10 GMT -5
Whoo thanks So like… mislabeling the salmon is part of the ~*Secret Code*~, right… I’m not just being stupid and thinking “salmon aren’t related to carp………are they” Yeah you got it okay again, disclaimer that I have moderate ADHD, but I think my biggest grievance with Kingsmen as a whole is just all of the names being thrown at me and feeling dumb because I keep feeling like I should know who these people are but instead I’m just like……….which one is Balasar again Sorry, that one was pushing it, because Balasar hadn't been introduced yet. You didn't need to know anything about him at the time except that he's the head of House Avrae, which I hope came through in context, but maybe not. We finally got introduced to him more recently in DL's latest post. Aww, see, if there was any place to implement that “values” narrative quirk, it’s this post right here. There’s all sorts of vivid sights to assign cool obscure words too. Yes, I’m aware this is from Isara’s perspective, but damn if I wouldn’t want to read this scene from Esther’s just so I can watch her go Word Pantone on this shit Agreed, that would have been fun. I wanted to keep everything up through Esther's reveal in Isara's perspective so that the final line could be a nice surprise for anyone who knew who Esther was but wasn't expecting her to turn up in this setting of all places. On the other hand, I admit that "anyone" there is pretty much just Lee. Actually, on thinking about it, I tailor an inordinate number of my twists and surprises to an audience of Lee. I'm sorry but that man does his homework, okay yes okay but when are you going to give Mitroch a cameo in Anchor more seriously, this is reading fine. It’s kind of starting to read Actual Pantone with all these damn colors n shit (this is good though. in case you didn’t notice I absolutely fuck with both colors and Pantone)Huh, I didn't notice colors were unusually prominent in my writing. You might be right. I'm really not a visual writer – it's the thing I feel worst at – so maybe I lean on colors too much as a way to churn out a quick loose visual impression. (Hey, I'm down for Mitroch and Triton crossing paths.) There is some neat mirroring going on in this last paragraph, namely with the earlier bit where the boy offers Isara the fish. Look, you even use the word “fish” despite there being no actual fish here. Whether intentional or not, I See What You Did There™ Unintentional but I like it. Well, not entirely a coincidence... The choice of the verb "fished" wasn't an accident, and neither was the fact that the carving was of a fish, but I didn't specifically notice that they mirrored at all. Cool find! All in all, a nice post, contributes to King’s Men’s secondary function as a Drakengrad worldbuilding piece. Still though, in retrospect I really do want Esther’s voice here??? Even just like, at the end? Here’s the thing, and I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this: this is my first Esther experience. I actually had to consult the TVTropes page to even tell you that she was in Crystal Pt. 2, and that’s it; I don’t have the foggiest as to what else she was in, but I guess that’s what I get for being absent from like, every plot that has ever actually mattered. No shame in that. Esther is an obscure character, she only showed up in two posts in Crystal 2. But I recommend checking them out since that appearance demonstrates her powers and M.O. much better than I've gotten any chance to in Kingsmen yet. Again... I am probably guilty of writing too much for a presumed "informed audience" who is really just Lee. But then, that's why the tropes page is there! To help with connecting dots.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jul 21, 2016 10:40:17 GMT -5
Doesn't seem like so much as if anyone else is gonna do this so here we go. Whoops. Devo woke as the smaller sun, Qoris, began to peak over the horizon. The larger sun, Vos, hovered above its companion in a orange and blue sky, casting its rays into the young man's room. An entire facade of Devo's chambers had been transmuted into translucent bricks that distorted the shapes outside, and nestled into the masonry were panes of crystal glass, all of them swung open to let in the northeastern breeze. If it "peaked" then we're not going to see any more of Qoris than is currently visible, right? Like, that's as high in the sky as it gets? Wait, I'm not even sure if that works, does that mean Aleta doesn't spin? I'm not sure about this verb choice. (Unless you meant "peek".) But I love the cool weird architecture of Devo's room. Very creative. Devo kicked off his blanket and rolled out of bed. He stepped over to the open window to watch the city of Irinios-Ma wake up. The warm, humid air rolled over the young man's cheeks, bringing with it the Calmor River's familiar, musty smells. You used "rolled" twice in three sentences, just pointing that out in case you care, but if it doesn't bother you then no big deal. Otherwise this is fun. "Lord Irinio," groaned a baritone voice from the bed, muffled by sheets. "Must you always he so brusque?" "You know the answer to that, Oren," Devo said with a smile. Whoooo the gays. Typo of "he" for "be". He continued looking out the window, and after a few minutes, Oren began snoring again. Outside, the Fringe shimmered across the sky in the morning light, but, thank the gods, was otherwise still. So if there's rippling or vibrating or something in the Fringe then that signals trouble? Some kind of intrusion? That's interesting. "was otherwise still" feels like a slightly weak way to pick the sentence back up and finish it off, though. Maybe even just "otherwise held still" or something like that? "was" is just such a weak verb, it can't really hold up side clauses and adverbs. Below the static sky, the bustle of the city moved in in droves. Doubled "in", unless you actually meant "moved in, in droves", but I doubt it. Horse drawn carts ran up and down the expansion's straight avenues, moving goods and people in and out of the city. Merchants in their gaudy colors and artisans in their practical cloth congregated around the bazaars that cropped up like weeds along the city's major arteries. The old city, too, was a burst of activity as a small fleet of brigs as well as a handful of semayan aircutters lashed themselves to the docks along the Calmor. Ah, cool, so this is one of those old cities where the oldest parts of town were sort of cobbled together and then expansions were much more rigidly drawn up? Nice imagery here. Winged serpents whipped through the air and two legged humans scrambled along the ground, all seeming to hold ropes attached to one thing or another. Devo grinned. The graceful, yet efficient, dance to secure an aircutter was something the young man would not tire of for a while. Oh come on, okay, I let "horse drawn carts" slide in the last bit but I'm not gonna let you get away with "two legged humans". You really don't want to slap a hyphen in there? How do I know these aren't just two humans who happen to have legs? Also, what... what is the point of calling attention to this detail anyway? Yeah, they're humans, they have legs. Winged serpents don't have legs, okay, fine, but this seems like a pretty silly way to contrast them. On a completely unrelated note, you pounced on Deandre picking up "something" off the floor, not trusting me for the gap of like one paragraph in between mentioning that "something" and specifying what it was, and then you turn around and write "all seeming to hold ropes attached to one thing or another". Come on, let's be more specific about what the ropes are attached to! I don't know what a semayan aircutter looks like! The second Google Image result for "aircutter" is a gif of the Pokemon move animation!! Plus, why would they be "seeming" to hold ropes? I'M MAD. Devo's watch was interrupted by a pounding knock on the room's heavy oaken door. "Enter." Devo heard the door creak open and click shut, timid footsteps following. The young man casually looked over his shoulder to find a somewhat younger man in Irinio red stealing glances at his lord but keeping his eyes otherwise fixed on the ceiling. This is good but I think it could work better if you broke the sequence down a bit more rigorously. Like, Devo looks casually over his shoulder -> Devo sees the Vargas kid fixing his eyes on the ceiling -> the Vargas kid steals a glance at Devo but quickly looks back up -> Devo turns back around. Feel like that would land better than just saying the kid was "stealing glances". Devo turned back to watch the second train of the morning scuttle along the Calmor bridge, as well as to stifle a laugh. Devo had caught the lad, some second son from some minor house--the Vargas?-- a month or so back scurrying from Priya's room before morning sabre practice. Enough prestige to not annoy mother if she found out, but definitely not enough to bring further into the family than as a courier. Getting his sister to attack wildly had been exceptionally easy that day. This is all fun and great, although I'm curious about the mechanics of this train that it could be described as "scuttling", and would love a touch more detail there. PS. you can m dash by hitting command + option + hyphen on your mactop. "Yes?" Devo said. "Lord Irinio," the boy said with a light voice, "your cousin Giovenzio sends his greetings and wishes to inform you that he arrived late last night and wishes for your company today. Erm, if it pleases, m'lord." "So it was Gio last night!" Devo hadn't seen his cousin in months. "Of course. Tell him I'll meet him in an hour or so." "Yes, m'lord." "And did he say if he'd be waiting somewhere?" "Erm--" "The Bella chambers, a carriage, the gardens....?" "Erm, no. None of those, m'lord. He didn't say, I think." I assume this is just supposed to show the incompetence of the messenger, in which case it's fine. If it's also supposed to show Gio's incompetence, that he wouldn't even think to specify where he wanted to meet Devo, then that could come through more strongly. Devo rolled his eyes then strolled to the bed to give Oren a shove. Devo's bedmate woke with a start. "Well, then tell him I'll be waiting with a carriage outside the Bencarlo tower. Oh, and tell Priya I'll be by in half an hour if she wants to come with us." Devo thought for a moment. "But do that after you give Giovenzio my message." "Y-yes, m'lord." The boy's face was reddening. "Alright, off with you know," Devo said with a shooing motion. Head full of sand, that one. "Oren, get up. I need birds sent to cancel my appointments for the day and a carriage summoned. C'mon, up you go..." Typo, meant "off with you now". Otherwise this is all good. Choobs dialogue generally doesn't show any weak patches. I guess I'm curious about whether the messenger's face was reddening only because he was being shown for a fool, or also because he was embarrassed at seeing Devo's hookup. If the latter, then a glance at the bed or something might help to clarify that.
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Post by ch00beh on Jul 21, 2016 12:04:34 GMT -5
The kid's blushing because Devo's naked. (and may or may not have a huge dong)
I also did not know what an air cutter looked like until I sketched one the other day, so good catch.
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Post by ch00beh on Jul 22, 2016 13:25:03 GMT -5
oh right, the "peak" thing. I meant Qoris was peeking out from behind the mountains as it was rising. But also Aleta cosmology is also weird and I never explained it.
I am going to look at your writing prompt response since you hate it and we can see if we can make you not since it was mostly neat. It is only like 1600 words, so feel free to ask for another post.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jul 22, 2016 14:33:48 GMT -5
Ugh oh no. Okay give me a day to, like, put ANY more sensory detail into the second half of the post.
EDIT: I rewrote a little, might be okay now.
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Post by ch00beh on Oct 8, 2016 20:58:08 GMT -5
I copy and pasted the text two months ago when I declared my intention of critiquing and haven't read the updated version dealwithit.gif He didn't mind the pricking of little pins in his palms and wrists, turning his hands over and over, letting the yellow crab climb from one to the other. I like the strong start by engaging the often unused sense of touch. However, I feel like the oomph gets weakened by the awkward clauses after "wrists." Like the thought process being shown here. At first it seemed kinda weird, then I thought about it, and I would probably react the same way. I know that this is internal monologue, but I kept falling over myself while reading it. Don't think you should touch it, though, I am just bad at reading. Dig the scenery. noooooooo I dig the sensory details in this paragraph, but something about the sentence cadence is throwing me off. Kind of the theme throughout this entire story was me getting tripped up by the beats in the sentences. I am not entirely sure why that is. I like what you were getting at with the sudden flash back, but this is at least one place where I an point to the specific place where I stumbled while reading: "He'd raced back then." Like, starting out with "It was the most money he had ever held in his life" which subconsciously I knew must be untrue for present!Mayordomo, but I just accepted it anyway because what do I know. Then followed by "He'd raced" I was like "oh he's running down the beach now?" then it was like "back then" which is almost like a throw away phrase as it goes into heavy sensory detail again. I was confused by the "hey, why not" bit. See below. I got confused here with regard to the ember because I didn't realize we were in a flashback. future!Me writes more about this when he realizes that there is a flashback going on. Love it. Curious as to why Mayordomo doesn't have such a thick dialect if he's been raised by his mother all this time. Me neither, Rouf. Me neither. Personally would've gone with the m-dash split instead of the comma split for the "had stayed there for years" clause to better segregate them. [HASH]alwaysbemdashing This transition really confused me. The scene had been set on the beach, and at the time, I didn't know that was all part of the flashback. I guess like once I realized it was Mayordomo, I backfilled the crab scene with him, but when we transitioned to talking to Ma, I didn't backfill the age all the way to the beginning. Or maybe it was because the internal monologue about being afraid of spiders sounded didn't sound like someone ruminating on his past self. So I thought that him being on a beach must have triggered the memory, not that we were in a memory the entire time. Maybe if you establish something else in the beginning to indicate it's a flashback for dumb people like me? Subtle thing like adjusting that monologue, or maybe something more obvious like describing the arm that the crab is crawling down as "smaller than they were now." Alternatively, the tried and true flashback sandwich of moving this line about a burnt bill floating in front of Mayordomo's face to the top then triggering the crab walk. The flashback soup was entirely too subtle (souptle) for me. I like all the description, but it gets laid on thick to the reader who is now snapping back from a sudden scene switch. I guess that's good because while I was going "WHERE AM I" at the beginning of this paragraph, I figured that out by the end. Grats on not being an edgelord, Mayo. I like the phrasing a lot but I think this is the first time slang is used by modern!Domo? I would think slang would color (but not overpower like Ma) the rest of the story. Unrelated to critique—did I miss the part where he got on her wrong side? Awkward phrasing with the air performing an action in a clause that is supposed to be attached to Mayordomo. Unsure why Yoda-speak thought process. Fine sentence until it hit "off the welding glove." I forgot Nanny was the bill and thought he was talking about a real old person and was like "dam u ice cold" Add the word "bill" or "note" after "replacement" and this sentence becomes way clearer. I get that the last line was supposed to have some punch to it, but it fell flat to me. Can't place my finger on why.
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Post by Silumas on Oct 11, 2016 11:42:08 GMT -5
Anyone looking for a critique? Feel like if I dive into a post and try to be helpful it might spark my own creativity.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Oct 11, 2016 17:16:05 GMT -5
Yes please! How about this one? I'll trade you one of comparable length. EDIT: It occurs to me, these two posts here and here are probably useful background reading for the post I linked. Those two posts were Esther's debut, for anyone in King's Men who didn't know. Want to take Choobs's critique into account properly but just haven't had time yet, will reply soon.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Oct 12, 2016 11:34:00 GMT -5
Give a Critique / Get a Critique / Critique the Critique you Got / Get the Critique you Gave CritiquedI like what you were getting at with the sudden flash back, but this is at least one place where I an point to the specific place where I stumbled while reading: "He'd raced back then." Like, starting out with "It was the most money he had ever held in his life" which subconsciously I knew must be untrue for present!Mayordomo, but I just accepted it anyway because what do I know. Then followed by "He'd raced" I was like "oh he's running down the beach now?" then it was like "back then" which is almost like a throw away phrase as it goes into heavy sensory detail again. I don't know if this is quite getting at your concern, but it sounds as if you read "He'd raced back then" as "[He'd raced [back then]]" when I meant it as "[[He'd raced back] then]". Which is definitely a reasonable mistake and I'll tweak that sentence a bit. P.S. If you actually already knew by this point that the protagonist was Mayordomo (and didn't know it because you'd just happened to skim the whole post beforehand), then wow, congratulations. In writing the first paragraph, with the way the imagery was getting a little dreamy, I was trying to leave open the possibility that someone would assume the protagonist was Deandre. (Though I guess the Jamaican bill would joss that for someone knowing Deandre's from Georgia; or maybe "Could be that was the difference", which is not really how Deandre's inner voice sounds.) That was something I went back and forth on a lot. I ended up trying to pointedly write Mayordomo's dialect at a much reduced level from his mom in order to create the impression that he was already bound to leave this behind and face a future of more sophisticated technical knowledge, more metropolitan culture, and more wealth than his mother would enjoy. You could also suppose, and maybe this is a bit of a hail mary but it sort of works, that Mayordomo isn't remembering his own speech being quite as dialectically marked as his mother's because, of course, he was the one saying it. Radiance and Muddy Season both hint fairly distinctly that Yoon is not travelling with Mayordomo by choice and that he's actually there to keep her in line on behalf of his employer (to the extent that he's got explosives rigged to take out her house in Winstone at the first sign of trouble). He's trying to make the best of it and not be a jackass because he respects Yoon a good deal, but she's understandably resentful. You've got a point there, but I don't want to let Mayordomo's inner voice get too slangy, both because I'd probably end up making a fool of myself, and even more because I'm worried about undercutting the validity of his perspective. I just couldn't resist throwing that one in there when I read it, because somehow it's a really evocative way to express mistrust/skepticism toward the police. Agreed – I'll edit that in. Yeah, based on comparing your own writing to your critiques of my and Steph's work, I think it's fair to say that you have a pretty strict internal sense of the rhythm of a sentence. You like your own sentences to cut straight and deep. I don't mind sentences that want to linger on a idea, even if that means they end up running a bit longer or in a slightly different direction than what was expected. That's just a subjective difference in preferences, I guess. As for your other overall criticism, yeah, it's well-taken. I wanted this to be a somewhat opaque and difficult piece (which is why I got frustrated toward the end when there were some final details about connecting the dots between the past and the present that I couldn't figure out how to get across except for stating outright, and why I really didn't like the story at the time, though I like it more now), but I probably erred on the side of making it too challenging with those whiplash-inducing scene cuts. Maybe I'll go back and try to massage it a little, when I can come up with a good way to do so. Thanks a lot for the thoughtful read!
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Post by ch00beh on Oct 12, 2016 12:23:03 GMT -5
i might have unconscious bias but at least academically i think lingering sentences are cool; it was just something specifically about the style of that particular story. Like it works perfectly well for me with Deandre. I guess Deandre's internal monologue is more flowy and conjunctiony, while the Mayordomo story was all caesura-y and hard-stop-y? Which it seems was intentional, so that works. I wasn't necessarily calling out the cadence as a bad thing, just something that tripped me up.
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