Bad Writing Game--Win Some GOLD!

[Lefdmae Deemalr Effaeldm]

Deadline... not here yet? Thanks to everyone for the delays Looks like I'm ready after all. Or more like decided after all on stealing from myself, from my 1st of April thread



Those acquainted with Star Trek might see more in this I'll provide explanations if they turn out needed.

And thanks for all the wonderful entries I'm honored to be in such company


Everyone gathered around Linden, eyes wide in shock. Almost nothing of the explanation was listened to, though the words spoken were astounding and the Creator himself was speaking.

"You see, people, I've heared really-really unpleasant things about the Chosen... in a certain place far away. So... I kind of asked for a replacement. She... I mean he - is going to be or new Linden Avery... kind of. Well, bye. Good luck."

The man on the ground streched just slightly and Linden's clothes on him behaved like on Hulk. He looked at the flannel shirt with despite that could make Lord Foul seem an all-loving pink pony in comparison, then shifted the still far not pleasant look to the people around. "What was it that needed to be done?"

"Uh, uh, we have an overload of problems here. The Worm Of The World's End is approaching, the skurj and Kastenessen are on the loose, burning everything around, Timewarden's son wants to become a god no matter what, loads of other things, and worst of all - Lord Foul is still no idea where, plotting horrible complicated plans"

"You had an overload of problems." The new "Linden Avery" took the Worm by the tail and shook. Stars flew out, together with many unidentified things people around decided not to look at. The shaken Worm quietly curled into a knot and apparently decided to play possum. Kastenessen and Roger showed up nearby, followed by uncounted numbers of the skurj. Kastenessen looked attentively at something that looked like a child's gun made of plastic. "You posess a weapon of great and foreign lore. I will not fight you, I know what such things do." Kastenessen turned 180 degrees and beckoned the skurj. "Come on, guys. I'll explain to you... as we the run." Roger stared wide-eyed. "You know... daddy... I wasn't the best son... but perhaps you could, uh, accept me back? I'm going to really behave. As well as I can."

"That leaves just one more thing to go" the Chosen said. "One more slight, insignificant thing that is harldly worth a glimpse." "Watch your words, groveler! I see your meaning through your obvious insinuation." "Oh, but I meant it to be obvious - for you to see and come to complain!" "Don't get hopeful, groveler! You have no way to fight me." "Mistaken there. I have a reliable, much tried weapon", the Chosen replied, confirming the words with the mentioned weapon - actually, his fist. Lord Foul didn't appear to react in any way, he just stoood there. But after a moment he shook his head and looked around in a childlike manner. "What is this beautiful place? I don't remember anything like this. And, more importantly, who am I at all?"

Meanwhile, very far away...

A woman blinked, coming to her senses slowly. She barely glimpsed at the uniform obviously far not her size and what looked like a cross of a table with an old game station. "Jeremiah!" The one she referred to waved in return, and called her to come closer. He was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a mess of most various things. A man with bright eyes and black hair placed a heap of other very assorted objects on the floor for Jeremiah and beamed like a light bulb connected to an atom bomb. "I'm so happy to have you here in charge now. Certainly, I was getting along well with your predecessor, I can be friends with anyone, regardless of what they think of that, but it's particularly splendid to have you here, darling. And since we're going to be such good friends, I have a certain agreement for you to sign..."

[Savor Dam]

Since Effy has established the precedent that recycling material is acceptable, I can't resist trotting out this retread that both makes Linden a bit more likable and provides her with an equine object of affection.



After the protracted and arduous ascent from the Spoiled Plains up to where the river Landrider cascaded down from the foothills of the Southron range, as Linden and her companions gained the plateau of the Upper Land, they found a figure on horseback awaiting them and patiently studying their approach.

His garb was as outlandish as had been that of the Harrow, the Ardent or the Mahdoubt; he wore trousers so deeply blue as to appear black with a yellow stripe down each leg and a scarlet high-collared tunic secured with a broad belt and gold buttons. On his head was a wide-brimmed tan campaign hat.

He faced their approach while mounted astride a snow-white horse. As they drew nearer, it became apparent that his seating there was unconventional, facing the horse’s nethers.



Stave rode Hynyn close up beside Lynden. “Chosen, there are accounts of this man in the lore of the Haruchai. It is said he is an untiring hunter of those whose deeds conduce ill ends, and that he never fails to catch those he seeks. He might be a potent ally.

"While we knew not of such beings when those stories first were shared in the mind-speech of my people, his deeds and the way he was known to us suggests that he may be an Insequent. In our tales, he is called The Mountie. However, there is another name mentioned…and if he is truly Insequent, that name may be a key to impel his aid to our cause.”

Linden hardly heard him. Her entire focus was upon the stallion The Mountie rode. She slipped from Hyn’s back, circled around the mounted figure until she met the eye of the beast bearing him. She drew a shuddering breath and spoke one word in a voice deeply affected by passion:

“Horse!”

At this, The Mountie’s head snapped around “How do you know his name?”

Before she could answer, Hyn, Hynyn and Narunal all stamped and whinnied at once. Khelen made no move nor sound, but but both he and Jeremiah astride him were avid with attention as acrescendo of hoofbeats hearalded innumerable Ranyhyn thundering from the southwest where the Plains of Ra stood in the distance beyond the horizon.

As the great horses arrived, forming a ring enclosing the company, Mahrtiir dismounted and respectfully stepped away from Narunal. Stave followed suit, dismounting from Hynyn, but the stallion turned and nuzzled the back of the Haruchais head. Stave stopped immediately; despite his characteristic dispassion, it was clear that something had very much engaged his attention.

“So, this is the intendment of what was imparted to me in the horserite. Chosen, I mispoke a moment ago, but Hynyn has enlightened me, calling upon knowledge which I was given when you and I ran with the manes one dark night far away.

"Notwithstanding what has been handed down in Haruchai legend, this man is neither Insequent nor anything more than the abettor of one far greater. Your utterance a moment ago touched on who that one is.

"Still, I must reiterate the question you were asked. How did you know the name you spoke?"

Linden and the white horse had not broken eye contact throughout the arrival of the Ranyhyn, nor while Stave spoke. They did not look away from each other now.

“Neither this man nor his steed are unknown to me. Many times have I seen him, posing as hero. I even know his real name. Although you now tell me it will have no power over him, I still say: Dudley Do-Right, get off The Horse!”

Dudley did as she asked, doffing his hat with characteristic politeness as he said, “But of course, dear lady. Just as Nell always seemed to know who the real hero was, clearly you do too. He has served me well, even if I have not always returned the favor. However, he has long awaited the time when he could return here to reclaim what he was forced to leave behind. His foe believed him dead…but he has merely taken sanctuary where Time runs differently than here.

"Surely, you know who The Horse is?”

Mahrtiir, Stave, Linden and Jeremiah spoke the name as one voice “Kelenbhrabanal!”

And the assembled Ranyhyn nodded joyfully.

[Linna Heartbooger]

forgot we had the eh-brand / graveler posting.

So thaaaat's what "eh-brand/graveler" means!!!!!
Youuuuu may have forgotten we had that, but I never realized that since all (known) eh-brands were female and all (known) gravelers were male, that was being used to distinguish gender on the Watch!

Sooo... catching up on a little of reading the bad-writing backlog; only gotten about... this far:

Drop of a hat she's as kicking butt
Swinging her Staff like what-the-what
Then momentarily out of action
Battles will have to wait
Anele needs a hug now, (so true!!!)
She's all out for Earthpower

(that was my favorite verse, deer!)

and using the words of power as a chorus?!?!?
ending with "khabaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!"
Brilliance.

[DoctorGamgee]

Have we found a winner, yet?

[Frostheart Grueburn]

Argh life got on the way and this got pushed out of the other ear.

Are we still waiting for Shoe's second half?
Also, idea recycling's all fine and dandy, but to encourage the creation of new brain-damaging materials, I feel that at least 70% of the writing out to be fresh, not just canned copypasta. Sorry, SD. Maybe you could type another Saturday cartoon adaptation?

(Will comment on the contents later, off to bed now.)

[Savor Dam]

Understood, Frosty. Since my motivation was more to get additional eyeballs on that story (since it could be shoehorned into theme-appropriateness) than to actually compete in this round (g-ds forfend I should win and have to run a subsequent contest round!), I am actually quite content with your ruling.

I may write another adaptation (or something)...eventually. Not for this round. As you say, life gets in the way; my main effort in fiction-writing for the conceivable future will be project status reports.

[shadowbinding shoe]

I apologize for the huge delay. I'll post the rest of the story today.


In the meantime, have a look at this:

blingee.com/profile/Liny0luny

[Frostheart Grueburn]

blingee.com/profile/Liny0luny

AAAARGGHHHH the glitter and pink and terrible tacky clip art.

Hmm just realized my new icon appears to always scowl at the post above.

[DoctorGamgee]

blingee.com/profile/Liny0luny

AAAARGGHHHH the glitter and pink and terrible tacky clip art.

Hmm just realized my new icon appears to always scowl at the post above.

Perhaps that is the response to the link? LOL!

[Vraith]

HEAR YE!
Folk may be aware that the previous winner/current judge
departed the Watch in a cloud of snit.
If they weren't aware, they are now.
Folk may also know I once before offended her, and apologized for
it...and sincerely so, since I knew when posting the offending piece that it MIGHT offend even though I noted purpose within it.
Things fail.
I won't apologize for "cloud of snit," ever, should she come back.
I might if it was just me.
But she publicly insulted pretty much everyone here, mostly unfairly
because she couldn't manage the relationship between her ego and the simple realities of a place like this.
That's fine, too. Except that she CONTINUED it by deriding those who
tried to make amends.
Another Mod. pointed out this thread was left in limbo.
I don't mind if it dies a natural death.
But I don't grant the right to kill it by abandonment, since I started it.
At that Mod's suggestion, I'm adjudicating the last contest so the thread may continue [or fail] as the participants [or lack] decide.
[[[Blame no one but me for the intro, I doubt the concerned mod expected my little rant. Or perhaps did...I'm not the Spanish Inquisition...sometimes folk expect me.]]]

My decision....[dddrrrruuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmrrrrroolllllllllllllll]
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Shadowbinding Shoe.
All the entries were good...and the variety was cool.
None made me go "meh" or "nice try."
I selected SS, [[[DESPITE things like my love of Deer's [used the source AND Queen...what could be cooler?] And Dr. G's high-art form with low-brow humor, and other things by other entrants]]]
because of things like Fate and "might as well embarrass them"...which, intentionally or not seemed to pun, in more ways than one, on "embracing" fate...and "white-goldingly" and the scene that was reminiscent of the ghosts and FF laughing scene, and...
YOU HAVE TO ACKNOWLEDGE ANYONE WHO USES THE PHRASE "HARUCHAI BUCKS."

SS, I'll be sending you WGD's.

You have the the Power. As of NOW, "You ARE the Bad Writing Game."

[Dread Poet Jethro]

Is what Vraith posted
First entry for next round of
Bad Writing contest?

[deer of the dawn]

Congratulations, Shoe!! *round of applause*

[Linna Heartbooger]

Congratulations, shoe!

I thought the inappropriate usage of mixed and ananchronistic metaphors was like... like the sunshine on the top of an ice-cream sundae!!

For example:

Even Mount Melenkurion and the surrounding foothills are lit up like a giant LCD screen of forgotten magic lore but still, still the darkness approach from the East, like a black worm of dread inside a dewy fluorescent apple.

Perfectly horrible!

And the erratic changes of verb tense are keeping me on my toes and are going to made me twitch.

[shadowbinding shoe]

Thank you everybody. Sorry I never wrote the second part where Linden is back on earth in the start of Runes and makes the 3rd chrons redundant. I never managed to make it good enough.

*******

OK, for this contest lets return to our foundations:

In a slightly different world than ours, in the office of Joe deMosey sub-sub-chief editor of Bonbon Publishing

Joe: Come in, come in. I have a job for you.
You pull up a chair and try to look eager and un-hangover.
You: I'm all ears.
Joe: Well, we need you to do us another piece of ghost writing. Nothing you can't handle. Walk in the park!
You (suspiciously): Yes?
Joe: I have this series I need you to finish. 6th book. Didn't make enough in the bottom line so far and the author is taking his sweet time finishing it. It's been over six months since the last book! I tell you, ever since we amalgamated those pipsquicks Del Rey we had nothing but trouble with their leftovers. I just want to get this wrapped up and cover our losses. I'm getting sick and tired with these people.
You: So, what's this series about? Is it about the Naked Chef?
Joe: Will you forget about the Naked Chef? This is not about the Naked Chef, nor any other chef. It's some fiction bullshit.
Joe: Fiction?! I don't know if I could do-
Joe: Don't you worry about! I'm paying you 2,000 dollars for this job. Just get it done, will yah?
You: But I only did chef autobiographies so far. I don't even know what this book is about, God damnit!
Joe: Fine, fine, don't get your knickers in a twist. Let me look, let me look, (He types with one finger something on his console) Ah, it's a sci fi/fantasy/supernatural story about a, hum, a white gold welder, yes. That's even the title of the book. The hero is called Thomas Covenant.
You: And?
Joe: And what? Do you really need me to do all your work for you? These books are all the same, you know. You don't need much more than that to write them.
You: Maybe I can read the previous books, get a picture-
Joe: On my money?! Forget it. Besides, I expect to see finished results in two weeks, mind. You don't have the time to lollygag around. Just get it done, or else.
You: Can't you tell me anything?
Joe: That damn author wouldn't cooperate with us. Dared me right here to try and write it without him. Hah, is he in for a surprise. I managed to get the cover art for the book before he could try to hide that from me too.That's all the inspiration you need. A picture is worth a thousand words and all that. Here, take it. (he picks a shiny rolled paper and hands it to you)
You: It says here White Gold Wielder in the title, not welder.
Joe: It does? Well, it must be a typo. Makes no sense. 'Wielder.' We'll correct the cover before we put it in the prints. You just worry about your side of the business. Now git.



You go home and try to get some inspiration in the cover art. Why couldn't it be a story about chefs? You knew kitchens. You knew chefs. This, well never mind. You didn't have time. You needed to get this damn job done before the boss will start yelling on the phone at you again. You glance covetly at the fridge. Surely one beer couldn't hurt before you start. It might even get you in the mood. Yes.

[Frostheart Grueburn]

I was pointed out there was another one of these...and good gods, Vraith, so you had to tear it all open again. Fine. You might try to remember that I never attacked you with offensive names and expletives even after that previous drivel (or that other person who attempted mob lynching on me around the same time for no conceivable reason...also apparently their idea of "fun", et cetera), and here you're doing it again. I also asked why you would want to post something you knew would offend, and you didn't answer.
It's interesting you think I was just after mindless praise (or whatever you mean with "ego"). Perhaps after placing hundreds of hours of my free time into contributions and attempting to "push up" some corners of the board I would have expected something else than an increasing amount of crickets, yet where in all that does it read "mindless praise"?? I haven't seen you going through the same. But, it's been noted before that Nordics don't fit here. You might want to google something about what constitutes as offensive here on the other side of the world.

I don't much care that you're not sorry for the continuance, but please do not EVER address my person in any form, PMs included, again.

* * *

To others, with whom I've had fun, et cetera: I'm very sorry about what happened. Over a year of bent-up frustration came crashing down, and it was too late when I noticed I would have gone too far, offending people. I'm sorry about that.

Issues remain with others to whom I've for instance done hours of free work and they don't even bother with a simple thank-you and/or just evade. "Small talk" in these parts of the world's just as rude as shouting in a church.


Now, carry on with your contest. I would appreciate it if the entire matter were put to rest now. I'm sorry about this. Ripping it open again doesn't help anyone. I don't follow the threadts, so if there's anything to handle, please contact via email.

[deer of the dawn]

Frostheart:

Sorry too, especially that I never saw it coming. I miss you but I do understand. Peace and blessings.

[Shuram Gudatetris]

Mithilian Chopper
Season #3, Episode #7


Last week on Mithilian Chopper, Roger Junior created his personal masterpiece, the all-chrome Ranyhyn-inspired Ra Bike, for the Ramen Ranchers' Association. This week, Roger Junior intends to one-up himself, and exceed everyone's wildest expectations as he constructs the dukkha Waynhim Foundation charity bike.

Tom Senior is pacing back and forth in his office, looking out the window into the shop, and he is scowling hard. He keeps pacing, looking angrier and angrier, as he watches Roger Junior work. Finally, he can't take anymore. He opens his door and goes out into the shop to confront his son.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tom Senior demands.

Roger Junior doesn't even turn his head toward his dad. Dismissively, he replies, "I am working."

"Oh, you're working," Tom Senior responds. "Well, you're not working. You're trying to tear down the damn Arch of Time, that's what you're doing. What the hell is all this white gold for?"

"What does it look like?" Roger Junior replies. "I am making a bike entirely out of white gold. This bike is for charity. When it gets auctioned off, I want to make sure all this has been worth the dukkha Waynhim Foundation's efforts."

"You have no common sense," Senior tells his son. "You never think things through. You need to be hit over the head with the Staff of Law, that's what you need. It might do you some good if you're head wasn't so empty."

Tom Senior turns and walks away. Junior shouts after him, "Oh, okay. Yeah, go ahead and hit me with the Staff of Law. That would do us a lot of good. Maybe its you who needs to think things through!"

Later, Roger Junior takes a break. He talks to the camera to vent his frustrations.

"God, that guy...he gets on my nerves. He is so old-school. He doesn't understand what building bikes is about nowadays. It's like my dad was born 3,000 years ago and stumbled through a caesure and got plopped down in the present. He doesn't understand that I need the freedom to express myself when I build bikes. It's like, you know, everyone wants a more powerful bike. Well, we already squeeze as much horsepower as we can out of those engines. So where else are we going to get power?....From white gold, that's where. It's powerful, and it looks good on a bike. This is a new concept, and its not that my dad can't understand a new concept, it is just that he doesn't want to."

When Tom Senior goes on a break, he talks to the camera, too.

"I just wish my son would be more respectful of Law. There's been enough broken Laws in the Land already. Building bikes is supposed to be about safety, and he doesn't get that. You know, I believe he has a gift. A really special gift. No one can do some of the things he does with designing bikes. But sometimes he goes too far. When I started Mithil Valley Choppers twenty-five years ago, it wasn't so that we could eventually tear down the Arch of Time. Someday, I want to leave him my shop. But at this rate, there not only won't be a shop, there won't even be a Land to build bikes in."

The next day, Roger Junior finishes the bike: the Wild Times White Gold Superbike. Tom Senior goes to watch him start the bike for the first time. It roars to life.

"Okay, hot shot," Senior tells his son, "so what now? You started it up, and the Arch is still intact. What are you going to do?"

"I am going to take it for a ride!"

"No!" Senior jabs Roger Junior in the chest with his finger. "This is where I draw the line! If you take that bike for a ride, you're fired!"

Junior jumps on the bike and goes for a cruise. The credits roll. While the credits roll, Junior talks into the camera again.

"My dad thinks he fired me, but I quit. I am going to take Vinnie and go start my own shop. It's called Roger Designs. And ten years from now, I am going to buy out my dad's business. His whole estate will be mine someday."


-----


Edit: Of course, the premise here is that "welding" is a major component of "chopping" motorcycles. Not sure if this little foot note is necessary, but I decided to add it just in case, as I never actually mentioned welding in the story....

[deer of the dawn]

I wrote this strictly as prescribed: as though one had only the cover art to go on... but the cheesiness of it forced me to meter and rhyme, which is going off grid, I realize... apologies!

The four-legged Big Guy did not want to go.
"That guy with the red eyes-- I just don't know!"
The White Gold Wielder-- a.k.a. Fred--
"Come on, we're going along," he said.
Mary Sue whined her objection quite loudly.
Fred bowed to their guide, who gestured proudly
Toward the dark hall where mysteries hid....
That was the worst thing that Fred ever did.

"That flaming-heart thingy just gives me the creeps!"
Mary Sue puled as they entered the deeps.
"I just want to see where he's going," Fred murmured.
"Those red eyes are freaking me out," he then heard
The short-limbed Big Guy mumble into his beard.
"And the way he poses with it- well that's just weird."
Fred scoffed. "Relax, it's gonna be fun!"
That was the worst thing that Fred ever done.

The trash in the corners overflowed the cans.
"The lighting's so bad; can't see your own hands."
"Give it a rest, will you?" Fred barked,
Ahead, in a corner, dull reflections sparked.
Strange frozen figures, dusty and cold
Stonily stood. Big Guy said, "Them are old--
Omigosh!! This guy wants us to become like--oh, Fred!!!
This is the worst day that we ever had!!"

Fred gave no reply. His gaze was fixed
On the glowing red heart at the top of the stick.
Mary Sue groaned as she tried to resist
Away from the hypnotic red light she did twist
While Big Guy yelled out his anger and rue
But Fred, mouth open, did not even drool.
He slowly became a figure of stone.
That was the worst thing that Fred ever done.

"Mwahahaha!!!" laughed the dude with the stick,
"Let's get it over with, gaze up here quick!"
He shook the red torch with its sickening glare
While Big Guy, head down, turned back for the stair.
"C'mon, Mary Sue, Fred's a goner, let's roll.
This ill-fated cave-dive has taken its toll.
I'm tired of the dark, let's go back to the sun:
Cause this is the worst thing that Fred ever done."

(And probably the worst thing I've ever written!!!)


More later: Work in progress.

[Linna Heartbooger]

That is bad-writing white gold, Shuram!!

Mithilian Chopper
Last week on Mithilian Chopper, Roger Junior created his personal masterpiece, the all-chrome Ranyhyn-inspired Ra Bike, for the Ramen Ranchers' Association.

Love the title, and then... there ya go, wrongness in the first sentence!

"...You're trying to tear down the damn Arch of Time, that's what you're doing. What the hell is all this white gold for?"

"What does it look like?" Roger Junior replies. "I am making a bike entirely out of white gold. This bike is for charity. When it gets auctioned off, I want to make sure all this has been worth the dukkha Waynhim Foundation's efforts."

*deep breath* I found that exchange strangely cathartic.

Tom: "...Someday, I want to leave him my shop. But at this rate, there not only won't be a shop, there won't even be a Land to build bikes in."

Roger: "...And ten years from now, I am going to buy out my dad's business. His whole estate will be mine someday."

It's... so wickedly ironic, because the both think they want the same thing, except not at all..

Otoh, Shuram... I don't know... if it weren't for the horrible mis-match pre-chosen by shoe, I fear that what you just produced there would be rather GOOD... (Awesome Work!)

(And probably the worst thing I've ever written!!!)

you've said it all, I think! *groan*

[DoctorGamgee]

The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever book 6:

White Gold Welder.

Chapter 1: The Rude Awakening.

"Clearly, this is not going to end well." thought Tom. "But what else should I have expected when the ad didn't give the name of the Land to which one was to be sent. Just "the Land" as if that explained anything."

Four days earlier he had been a French chef who lost his job because he couldn't make a good Creme Brulée. Which explains the current scene. Armed with a white gold creme brulée torch, and according to the White Gold Welder's Intergalactic Union, local 625 union Official Rulebook (updated Spring, 2647) rule 2-point-6-dash-5, sub-section 37-dash C "All union workers will appear on job site with the following standard safety equipment when working:

1 Standard issue Jawa costume, complete with glowing eyes kit.

1 Colored Asbestos Shawl

1 Flange head sculpting acetate welding torch.

1 set of Felt slippers, brown.

At least that was what the book he had seen seemed to say. Damn that Ferange jokester! He should never have had that third Zorian Brandy!!! If he had had his wits about him he would have seen the watermark that said, "Costume Storage" ...

Hence the look of abject shock and horror on the faces of the local Trojan Horse festival coordinators when he showed up dressed completely anachronistically (and galactically) misplaced.

But what could you do...

He began to assess the situation.

Someone was trapped in fondant shaped much like the (also anachronistically, he noted) Starry Night, and needed someone to free him.

"I can get you out of this in a jiffy, bub." said Tom. "Just let me fire up the torch."

And that is where everything started to go wrong...

Chapter 2: Up in Smoke