Talking head syndrome stands out as the first thing. You can have dialogue bounce off itself with no problems, but it's an incredibly spartan way to deliver a scene. Especially if the scene is supposed to be cute/funny, the world around the character's voices can't be that lifeless. This problem is further compounded by how many one sentence paragraphs there are. Nothing really builds or flows well because it feels like everything is rushing to the next punchline, even at the expense of the set up at times.
The beginning also had problems in that it started off with the main character during the most boring part of his day- trying to wake up. I got that it was to establish him as a cynical, snarky wiseass, but that's made clear plenty of other times in the story. There was also a weird disconnect between "a bleary eye" and "my eternal hatred", which I can gather easily enough from context is his eye- but really, why start us off unsure if we're reading something in the third or first person?
Lastly was matters of tone- places where I felt it clashed rather than contrasted and muted itself rather than blended, but to go further on that, I'd need to talk about how the main character was presented. This is super problematic from a critique standpoint, because this is an SI. I don't know how clearly I could point out my issues with the text without seeming like I'm also taking issue with you, the author. Instead, I'm just going to say, generally, that cynicism can be hilarious if you give it the time it deserves to set up a deadpan delivery.
What I liked was, paradoxically enough, the thing that undercut a lot of the jokes as written. The writing has this manic energy, like there was a million and one jokes, snarky quips, and silly scenes in your head and you wanted to get them all down as quickly as possible. I think you said it best- it's gleeful. It reads like listening to a garage punk band- an overabundance of joyous energy for the craft that is impossibly infectious, which makes the practical issues that much easier to ignore.
Personally I thought that the talking head syndrome was fitting. I'm a chef, serving what could possibly be hundreds (most likely not, but still) of people. When you work in a job like that, you kind of just gloss people over unless they really stand out.
Like Nora did. Ren just came along for the ride.
Also good point about that third person bit. Didn't notice it before. A bit of a holdover from the first draft, before I decided it should be an SI instead. Will try and be more mindful in the future.
Also I'm normally that much of a snarky, cynical, wise-ass. That's how I act in real life and what my jokes are based on. Even when it's not appropriate. Gotta stay true to yourself when writing an SI, you know? I'm not perfect.
Finally I'll try and be a little slower in my writing. Everything was a little fast, I admit. Some of the jokes could have had a little bit more setup to them. Probably because this was mostly stream of consciousness, mixed with only the slightest bit of editing. I could have taken my time but, well... I got excited. :lol
Such a silly thing as 'pacing' wasn't going to get in the way of my fun time, no sir!
Edit: When I say first draft, I mean the first paragraph. That was all I had at the time.
More edits: My skin isn't all that thin Barnaby. If you've found a problem with my writing, even if you think you're attacking me personally, you can go ahead and tell me.
My writing is the important thing here. As long as you aren't telling me to kill myself of course.
So many edits: The manic energy, I felt, was especially fitting. This takes place in Volume 1 of RWBY. Before everything started going to hell and it was just a bunch of kids enjoying life.
I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree. I understand what you were trying to go for, but I'd strongly suggest something other than dialogue to express that frantic pace.
I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree. I understand what you were trying to go for, but I'd strongly suggest something other than dialogue to express that frantic pace.
To be honest, I stopped watching RVB after the blood gulch chronicles. Season five or six? Whenever it was Wash started playing a bigger role. Not for any particular reason- just vaguely lost interest- so the AI stuff is pretty foreign to me. I am definitely stealing though, just from the dumb fun cyberpunk books I read in high school rather than anything from RT.
What I wanted to do here was explore that classic cyberpunk question of cartesian dualism in the context of having aura. If everything about Penny is created while her aura is the thing that gives her individuality and personhood, what would it mean if her body and mind were hackable? What separates the soul from the material world? If it's nothing- if aura is something scientific that can be measured and studied- then what's stopping people from "engineering" better souls? But if aura is instead indefinable, then isn't everything Penny going through ultimately and tragically pointless?
But unfortunately, I never seem to have the time or patience to really expand upon the ideas I get, doubly so whenever I try writing action. Maybe someone will take one of these snippets and run with them, but if not, that's okay too.
Ah I see, that's fair enough, I had a pretty huge break from it as well around the time the Freelancer arc finished only to get back into it on a few months after the Chorus season aired. Though for context, the Freelancer program tortured an AI into insanity by simulations so it would fracture itself into several smaller lesser AIs.
That is an incredibly fascinating set of questions and ones with no easy answers and with a lot of directions the many different answers could be taken and the story portraying them was quite fascinating.
I sympathise with you there, maybe someone will, if not thanks for posting it regardless, it was a good read
Hey, who wants more not quite as good as it tries to look, pretentious, 2deep4u bullshit? 'Cause I've got plenty!
***
"I made a pie." said Cinder's voice.
She looked down. There was a tin in her hands. It was heavy, warm, and filled with what appeared to be a perfectly baked apple pie. When had that happened? A conversation ceased and two looked to her. Wide, uncomplicated eyes appraised her. Apron and oven mitts, perfect for baking- odd for Cinder Fall. Apple pie, equally odd, but more intoxicating and easier to forgive.
She could not pay attention to that, now. Not with the two children looking at her.
Cinder stared silently at the two. The power of the Autumn Maiden had given her incredible insight, vision that stretched across the land and through time. Common things would develop new dimensions under her gaze. Lights and sounds with buried meaning would come forth from the most meager details. Even souls were bare to her eye.
Her subordinates, Emerald and Mercury, had been chatting about something inane, unaware of the power that was at their beck and call. What they called "aura" and "semblance" was less than even a hundredth of a percent of what they were. How could so much be hidden from their sight? Was she ever as blind as they were? The memories were hazy.
The energy around Emerald was a skittery, multihued thing, like a frantic chameleon dancing across a forest landscape. It darted and spiked and melted and popped across her skin. Each movement and color was Emerald, in some way, and Cinder could read it. Emerald's emotions, her memories, her ambitions- even her future. The power wasn't bound to linear time or space. Folds here and there told stories as predictable as B following A.
She sees a scene with Emerald. She's older, but not by much. She was laying on the ground, eyes open but glassy. She had been poisoned. The look on her face is either peaceful or eerily hollow. Impossible to say, for someone like Cinder.
Mercury's power was oily and at the same time stiff. It gave the impression of a dirty industrial machine, poorly maintained by only the occasional frustrated kick. Her mind sprung to life with ideas on how to disassemble such a machine, and the steps required to rebuild him and his power into shapes more pleasing to her. But such an effort would take months of her undivided attention, so she discarded the thoughts.
Better to let him be the master of his own fate. Which, by her reading, was that Mercury Black would one day be found beaten to death outside a bar. His aura would protect him of course, for a time. But the men and women around him would be ceaseless. He must have done something of great cruelty or ignorance to earn such retribution.
None of them would have weapons, save for the youngest. She had a rock.
She would grieve for them both. Someone had to.
Neither of them die in combat, under her service, and that she still feels responsible makes it that much worse. Dying to the grimm, or for her cause, those were worthy ways to go. Clean ways to go. These endings were messy, and made her feel vulnerable. These two were her puppets, or perhaps chess pieces, to be moved according to her whim, and removed as she planned. But the truth of it was that there was so much in this world she would never be able to control, least of all people.
"Uh, didn't figure you the kitchen-type, boss." Emerald said, breaking Cinder from her reverie.
"More empires than you know have fallen for failing to understand the power of baked goods." She replied. The words were effortless.
"Huh, well side bonus of the Maiden, I guess." Mercury shrugged. "Semi-divine power and a host of dessert recipes."
Her base would soon smell like home a disgusting bakery if she didn't do something soon. This wasn't her. She would throw it against the wall, then demand one of her subordinates to clean it up. Everything would be disinfected, everything that wasn't to her desires would be scrubbed away. This was a good plan. Her mind was still clear. Nothing was wrong.
The pie smeared against the wall from the force of her throw.
Emerald and Mercury left in the room in a rush, screaming. No, wait, they had left quickly, but it was her that had been screaming. Probably just her orders. That made sense. They left to get supplies. Supplies to clean up the mess. What mess, isn't this what she wanted? Soon, everything would be in order. Everything would be back on track, just as she planned it.
A low whistle sneaks across the room. She looks over.
And there, looking as smug as ever, stood Roman Torchwick.
"I've got to admit- you've looked better, boss." He said.
"You can't be real. You're dead." She says to the hallucination. The image of Roman Torchwick only shrugs.
"Eh. Points for being half-right." He offers her a crooked smile and turns back to the pie sliding down the wall. "Gotta admit, though," He runs his finger up the wall, scooping up a heavy chunk of filling and apple.
A hell of a lot better than the stupid fics that have Pyrrha somehow being able to take over Cinder's mind despite being maybe half a percent of her soul transferred and absolutely no proof that actual soul transfer happens when the proper death thing happens.
Aside from that gripe about fics unrelated to yours, I liked it. It's interesting to see how Cinder's mind has expanded so greatly, that the Maiden power isn't only physical power like manipulating the elements, but something far deeper. I wonder if the other thoughts are that of other Maidens, or if they're parts of her that she thought she'd discarded long ago. I remember an otherwise terrible fic that had Cinder musing about how she was a seamstress miserable with her humdrum day-to-day before Salem found her. Could her skill in baking be something she thought she'd left behind long ago?
Emerald and Mercury left in the room in a rush, screaming. No, wait, they had left quickly, but it was her that had been screaming. Probably just her orders. That made sense. They left to get supplies. Supplies to clean up the mess. What mess, isn't this what she wanted? Soon, everything would be in order. Everything would be back on track, just as she planned it.
You did amazing work conveying a delusional out of touch mind set while also still making it clear what they were and weren't seeing and the twisted spin their minds were putting on things. The descriptions were fascinating and over all the dialogue solid, though boss feels more like a Mercury than an Emerald line. Roman popping up at the end was great, I guess this is connected to the previous snippet?
A hell of a lot better than the stupid fics that have Pyrrha somehow being able to take over Cinder's mind despite being maybe half a percent of her soul transferred and absolutely no proof that actual soul transfer happens when the proper death thing happens.
Haven't read Haunted. But I have come across several "Pyrrha-takes-over-Cinder" fics and even more plot bunnies, and all of them have "Cinder killing Amber and Pyrrha plus partial soul transfer equals Pyrrha in Cinder's head" as the basic plot.
Haven't read Haunted. But I have come across several "Pyrrha-takes-over-Cinder" fics and even more plot bunnies, and all of them have "Cinder killing Amber and Pyrrha plus partial soul transfer equals Pyrrha in Cinder's head" as the basic plot.
You know I just had an interesting/horrible thought for a what if, likely better suited for post season 4 but still. Basically when Adam foes in for his swing on Yang Blake uses her Semblance to fling herself at Yang to push her out of the attacks path, inadvertently taking the brunt of it and losing a leg, or even both her legs while Yang is just cut up a bit. Seeing Blake losing blood Yang slams with everything she has into the ground sending an explosive shock wave through the floor obscuring her and Blake from Adam and basically dropping the building on him while launching her and Blake back.
End result, by the time Ruby wakes up Weiss is still likely gone, but Blake's still around tended to by a guilt-ridden and extremely protective/worried Yang who knows Adam is liable to be coming for Blake, and her and Ruby and so is sort of working herself into the ground whenever Blake sleeps to get stronger while also looking over Blake and Ruby. Yang may actually not be willing to leave with Ruby, or more accurately let her go, until she finds a means it let Blake walk again (Raising money for robot legs) while Blake has lost most of her manoeuvrability, freedom and has lost the ability to escape her problems, all while still being terrified Adam will come for the people she loves an while feeling like a helpless burden.
A hell of a lot better than the stupid fics that have Pyrrha somehow being able to take over Cinder's mind despite being maybe half a percent of her soul transferred and absolutely no proof that actual soul transfer happens when the proper death thing happens.
Aside from that gripe about fics unrelated to yours, I liked it. It's interesting to see how Cinder's mind has expanded so greatly, that the Maiden power isn't only physical power like manipulating the elements, but something far deeper. I wonder if the other thoughts are that of other Maidens, or if they're parts of her that she thought she'd discarded long ago. I remember an otherwise terrible fic that had Cinder musing about how she was a seamstress miserable with her humdrum day-to-day before Salem found her. Could her skill in baking be something she thought she'd left behind long ago?
Thanks, I really like the idea that there is a great deal still left unknown or misunderstood about magic and the like in Remnant. If that came across in an interesting way, then I'm glad.
But at the same time, that also means I could see how Pyrrha could potentially take over Cinder's mind. Even if it was just half a percent, if it contained Pyrrha's remorse or her love or her empathy, that might be enough to take down the spirit of someone who doesn't know about such things. The storybooks that recounted that might read something like "And so, with but a single tear from an innocent girl, the sorceress was undone." Or something, I don't know. That's not what's happening here, but it's set up as such where it could.
As for the other thoughts, I did want that to be vague, where it wasn't clear if the voice was hers or someone else's, whether it was taunting her or trying to express sympathy. It's equally uncertain whether Cinder knew how to cook beforehand, too- just as the Autumn Maiden could see the fate of others, it's possible Autumn knew beforehand that Cinder would be an appropriate, if difficult, host. Apple pie could be symbolic of Cinder's connection with harvest, or her throwing it against the wall could be that she recognizes it's a foreign concept to her, and she wants to destroy it.
You did amazing work conveying a delusional out of touch mind set while also still making it clear what they were and weren't seeing and the twisted spin their minds were putting on things. The descriptions were fascinating and over all the dialogue solid, though boss feels more like a Mercury than an Emerald line. Roman popping up at the end was great, I guess this is connected to the previous snippet?
Sorry, I always have trouble nailing down Mercury and Emerald's voices. Something about them is untranslatable to my writing.
And yeah, it's related, but that's only because I have a certain style that lends itself to overlap. Any of them could be removed from the rest and taken in an entirely different direction. Roman could be dead in one or just pretending in another. Since there's very little chance any of this will become a complete story, these snippets are only as connected as you want them to be.
I also dig that idea regarding Blake- by crippling her ability to run, but more importantly her ability to physically fight, it puts her relationship with conflict and violence at the forefront. She wanted things to be resolved non-violently, but ultimately still uses physical combat to resolve issues as a huntress. She is clearly trying to do the right thing, but when is violence necessary and what are it's limitations? Are there other ways to be brave?
I can see down the road of this story where Blake is in a wheelchair, facing down Adam, and she's stronger than ever. And despite all his power and weapons and soldiers, he can't defeat her in any way that actually matters.
It's equally uncertain whether Cinder knew how to cook beforehand, too- just as the Autumn Maiden could see the fate of others, it's possible Autumn knew beforehand that Cinder would be an appropriate, if difficult, host. Apple pie could be symbolic of Cinder's connection with harvest, or her throwing it against the wall could be that she recognizes it's a foreign concept to her, and she wants to destroy it.
Sorry, I always have trouble nailing down Mercury and Emerald's voices. Something about them is untranslatable to my writing.
And yeah, it's related, but that's only because I have a certain style that lends itself to overlap. Any of them could be removed from the rest and taken in an entirely different direction. Roman could be dead in one or just pretending in another. Since there's very little chance any of this will become a complete story, these snippets are only as connected as you want them to be.
I also dig that idea regarding Blake- by crippling her ability to run, but more importantly her ability to physically fight, it puts her relationship with conflict and violence at the forefront. She wanted things to be resolved non-violently, but ultimately still uses physical combat to resolve issues as a huntress. She is clearly trying to do the right thing, but when is violence necessary and what are it's limitations? Are there other ways to be brave?
I can see down the road of this story where Blake is in a wheelchair, facing down Adam, and she's stronger than ever. And despite all his power and weapons and soldiers, he can't defeat her in any way that actually matters.
Don't worry about it too much that's just my take, and they can be very tricky to nail down.
That's an interesting style, very unique, I like it
I confess that was not a perspective I had really considered given the potential for robot limbs, but its an intriguing way to look at things, Blake giving up on trying to physically fight injustice and returning to her campaigner routes.
So, this will never be posted here, but there's this idea I had a while back that won't leave my head.
First Aid and triage is different for people with aura. Generally, as long as their power is going, they don't need urgent medical care. But when they do, the priority is obvious: do it fast, get their power going again. Caution is not a priority. Aura will sort it out after.
Cracking the ribs on the way to repair the heart? Fuck it, use a hammer!
Several dust rounds in the belly? Who cares, tear it all out!
Is most of their blood outside of their body? Well, dump some new blood in. Doesn't matter how. Just do it fast.
Lacking even basic medical knowledge? No problem! Just get a knife and go to town.
Is there any good RWBY fanfic out there that focuses on, or is set during the Faunus War?
Because I feel that there is quite a lot of potiential there, especially I think with events leading up to outright conflict. Simmering tensions between human and faunus, with significant distrust between the two populations and unscrupulous individuals all too eager to take advantage of this distrust. Idealists hoping that rights and equality can be achieved peacefully, contrasted by those who wish for the status quo to remain...an accident there, a minor tragedy here, all rolling up to a conflict that would cost too much for what appears to be so little.
The only thing I can think of that comes even close is Be The Eldritch Abomination in which Homura, from Puella Magi Madoka Magica, is a Planeswalker and winds up on Menagerie. After being rescued from a Mega Grimm, it's basically Grimm!Quetzalcoatl, she disguises herself as a, cat, Faunus and joins up with the Faunus army*. Unfortunately the quest died before it got into the war, although there was a good chunk of Faunus-on-Faunus fighting due to internal conflicts regarding the war.
Because I feel that there is quite a lot of potiential there, especially I think with events leading up to outright conflict. Simmering tensions between human and faunus, with significant distrust between the two populations and unscrupulous individuals all too eager to take advantage of this distrust. Idealists hoping that rights and equality can be achieved peacefully, contrasted by those who wish for the status quo to remain...an accident there, a minor tragedy here, all rolling up to a conflict that would cost too much for what appears to be so little.
I think it's not seen so often because of how tricky it is to write that kind of build up and make the violent climax seem real enough. History has plenty of examples of how gross and disgusting the beginnings of war and revolution can be. How comfortable are fanfic writers with subjects like rape, the violent execution of women and children, or any other number of horrific acts done with exhilaration and internally justified by being on the "right" side of the conflict?
A story like that wouldn't be about men and monsters, but about the monsters inside men's souls- and those are far more dark and complicated.
How comfortable are fanfic writers with subjects like rape, the violent execution of women and children, or any other number of horrific acts done with exhilaration and internally justified by being on the "right" side of the conflict?
So this was meant to mainly be a combat snip so I could get used to writing RWBY in first person… well that came out to 0 and 2… But I've finally got a new job, so I've got that goin for me at least.
Night, of Violent Violet (RWBY AU)
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He relaxed at the long familiar slow-burn sensation of smoke seeping into his lungs, creeping through the Bronchi and into individual Alveoli before being absorbed into his bloodstream and carrying the chemicals to his brain. Seconds later he could feel the effects as it put a soothing balm on his nerves and he took a long drag on the paper wrapped narcotic.
It was illegal, sure, and stupidly so to the point that most had to go out into the wild lands where it grew like a weed and brave the Grimm to get it. But it was worth it, because it worked, because it was effective.
The only problem however, was that it was losing its potency. Had been for some time now. It wasn't effective as it had initially been in helping to calm the nerves and block out the constant, incessant, never ending drumbeat in his chest… and the screams.
It was what he had though and was better than the medication- but then anything was better than the meds.
A slow shiver-almost a spasm-went through him as he took another drag and clenched his fist tight; the black leather gloves of Juniors stupid-albeit multi-functional and comfortable-uniform creaking slightly.
No. To Hel with the meds, he'd find something else once the Qunnabu stopped working.
Exhaling a bit of thinned smoke, he raised a leg and propped an arm on his knee as he looked down from his rooftop perch to the street a few stories below.
People milled about, moving to and from stores and shops as they went about their daily lives. Buying an overpriced cup of caffeine in the morning while going to work, having lunch with co-workers that complained about their whatever being broken, then going home and picking up groceries on the way to make dinner in a kitchen.
All without having to worry about not seeing the next sunrise.
Perhaps a small part of him resented them, that was bitter the civilian populace could be so carefree. But that had been a life he'd given up, under an overly optimistic pretense maybe, but it had been his own choice and one that probably wouldn't change if he'd been given the option.
Besides, he'd never really be able to fit into a lifestyle like that. The Club was pushing it as is.
No. Pathetic he may be, but he was a product of his own decisions and- Grimacing he looked at his medication and tapping off the ash to expose the smoldering plant at the end took a longer than normal drag that warmed his chest.
Yep, it was losing its effectiveness.
Holding the smoke in, he watched as a pair of men wearing nearly the same exact outfit he did-a black suit with minor red accents-stepped out of barber shop and went to the clothing store next to it. One of them held the door for a woman before they entered.
Maybe Junior could help, the Xiong's dealt in all sorts of stuff and had their fingers in all manner of pies. From Vale to Vacuo. Legal and otherwise.
Sure Junior had gone straight, kinda, for the most part, but he still had familial obligations that he couldn't just ignore. Case and point: the clowns that were making the rounds to the stores down below.
This particular part of the city was held by the Xiong's. Well, held was a bit of a misnomer considering the family actually owned a good chunk of it. It was an almost criminal amount one could say, and taking in the taxes and protection money from it was the job that Junior had been saddled with in exchange for backing out.
It was simple, clean, and it let him stay straight. For the most part. But it meant he was still connected with the family.
So maybe getting him to ask someone who knew someone would work better than siphoning off his top shelf. Probably easier too... And cheaper.
Slowly exhaling a slow stream of wispy smoke he slipped a hand into his inside breast pocket and pulled out his scroll; popping it open with a deft spin to check the time before glancing up at the golden sky. Actual time was one thing, perceived another, with any luck and things kept going at they were, they could be done with this block in an hour and they could head back to the club for a little training in( before people started lining up for opening time.
Hopefully Bash and Blast Blondie wouldn't be by to make him look bad though, again, at least the ones rented out to that psychotic transvestite had bailed rather than come back. Wasn't his fault almost half of Juniors' men were clowns that couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag, getting the families dregs was at fault.
Those making collections down below though? A slight cut above the rest, they could learn, but theirs was still an insignificant number.
Sighing, he tapped his medication and raised it to his lips when his shoe sudden raised and fell with a sharp clack against the roofs concrete edge. Staring at it frowning he looked up as a low, rumbling echo rolled across the cityscape.
An explosion. A considerable one too if his semblance managed to pick up on the shock wave, and it seemed rather… muted, but it had nonetheless been a considerable detonation.
Slowly, he idly panned his eyes back and forth across the horizon with a level concentration he'd rarely had to utilize these days. Though it wasn't everyday that someone was setting off explosives so close to Vale Proper.
It took a moment, and in that time he filled his lungs again, but eventually he found a bit of discoloration rising in the south-east- fat out past the city's natural and defensive fortifications. Out in the Grimm infested wild lands.
"Must be a field trip day," He mused, and unwittingly, his lips turned up as he reminisced about some of his own field trips. Memories of going out with the rest of VILT(Violet) and the class into Grimm infested places to do this thing or find that thing. Simple things that gave them a taste of what was to come. They were memories of better, funner, happier times and had an altogether somnolent effect than his medication.
Then his shoe came down and put a sharp end to the moment as it clacked down on the roofs edge once more.
A moment later another rumble from a distant explosion rumbled across the city... Only going by it being slightly louder, perhaps not quite as distant. Not to a terribly high degree of course, but enough so for him to notice. Then his shoe came down again and another explosion echoed off in the in the distance. This one even closer still.
When the fourth distant explosion came and his shoe came down a moment before the echo came he sat up, his back straightening as his semblance was tripped by the Rythem it had picked up in the explosions.
They were timed, going off in a sequence and if it added up then there would be another in three… two… one. The toe of his shoe came down for the fifth time and he started looking for the smoke in earnest, focusing on the horizon to pick out the smoke from the detonations.
The first and furthest out had dissipated, wind and distance making it impossible to find again. But the second was still in the air, a thin haze that he was able to go from and easily find the following plumes as became clearer and clearer as they got closer and closer. Thus far, it looked like all the detonations had been within the wild lands, but if his guesstimations were still accurate, then the next detonation would be… Tap, Rumble. His dark eyes stayed locked on a section of forest in the distance and watched as smoke rose into the air.
That was inside Vales defense zone. There shouldn't have been any major Grimm populations there to bomb or anything that would have deserved such an It was called a buffer zone for a good reason.
And yet… perhaps a Goliath had wandered too close for comfort? The elephantine Grimm usually steered clear of too well defended areas. They were smart like that, but they were still Grimm and expecting a Grimm to conform to any set rules was a folly and a good way to get killed.
"Mm."
Well... if not that then it might be a weapons test. Though how it was covering so much ground put a bit of a kink in that idea. Atlas and their little invading robot army were a lot of things, but covering that much ground in dense forest was a bit much even for them.
Another tap and another explosion.
But on the other hand, they were completely clueless about public perception beyond "Stronk Army Stronk" that they couldn't even see what kind of effect their presence would have. What kind of questions it would bring up.
He angrily took another drag from his medicine as the Rhythm of his heartbeat changed. The never ending drumbeat shifting to a new, faster, Rhythm that made him take a quick drag and reach back for his mask. He never got to put it on before rubble shot into the air only a few block away and a blast wave knocked back back off his perch.
The roof gravel dug into his face as his lips pulled back over his teeth in snarl. The drumbeat had changed, turning to the tempo of War. It was only thanks to the ringing in his ears from the blast and the head splitting loudness of the warning siren that he'd previously ignored in choosing to settle up here but was now painfully aware of.
Raising his head a little bit, he pulled his mask on and snapped the maw shut; tripping the switch for the dust powered systems to turn on and in moments the faint whine of fan coils could be heard as the neck cuff pressurized and sealed everything out. For a few moments the tempo of War took over, his right hand reaching out and grasping the handle of his machine gun before a pre-set playlist started up and interrupted the never ending drums.
He didn't fight it, he just let himself sink and relax. Breathing in, breathing out. It took a bit, and by the time he'd calmed the drums and stood the rest of his masks systems had started up and a holographic display had taken the place of the maw to allow him to see in front and around himself.
Slowly, he stepped back onto the roofs edge and looked down to see a sizable pack of Beowolves and assorted charging down the street; chasing after the civilians as they fled. That small, bitter part of him felt vindicated at the scene but it was quashed by pride as the forward number of the invading Grimm were put down with exacting brutality by Juniors men.
He smiled as he watched them, as they struggled but endured in their efforts to give the civilians time to find safety before being forced onto the back foot.
As the line faltered, his hand slipped into his pants pocket and swayed in place as things fell apart. Moving somewhat in time to the music before hitting a high point, he snapped his arm out and away as a scratched black bastard sword telescoped out of a worn hilt; the dinged arms of the cross hilt sprang out as the mechanisms inside the blade locked everything into place.
One of the black and red suited henchmen nearly fell, battered back into other three members of his team by an Ursa.
"I don't wanna touch the ground~"
Spreading his arms and their respective arms wide, Indigo "Indy" Night, turned and fell off the roofs edge.
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I think things started ok... but I'm thinking the latter half isnt so good.
His Semblance is based on Music Empowerment with a bit of Rhythm Manipulation for flavoring. Of course unfortunately for him, 'Music' can be rather broad term and the Rhythm flavoring complicates things for him if he's not careful
Juniors DJ for the Club. This pic just kept nagging and nagging at me before it percolated into enough inspiration for a snip or two. Now it started a bit on the brighter side, but shit happened and in developing his character a lot of shit happened. Ex-Beacon student, Sole survivor of team Violet, Berserker, Former Vagrant, etc. Shit... kinda just happened to him and I think the GrimDark of Worm may have rubbed off a little too much on me.
He was supposed to be more carefree while still being apathetic, lazy but tired and going from day to day. Eh, it may actually work out better as is though, this way he's the tragic character that can have development over time as he re-enters a more healthy state of mind because right now? Well he has a lot of good moments, but hes also not quite right.
What had been the original, more up beat theme song for him.
Some good stuff here! The structure feels naturally stoic where it could have come off as stuttering if not done as well. The main character's voice comes across clearly.
There were some word choice issues, though. The very first sentence is full of biological terms describing him smoking a joint, which seems odd to me. Instead of taking in some sinfully smooth prose, it was more like a puritanical schoolteacher's cough. Because he reads so well later on, this first sentence becomes that much less appropriate for the character's inner narration.
Lastly, something I don't know is a critique or praise, but while it's played fairly straight, there's something about this character that seems self-aware about his 2edgy4u style? Like, between the pot, the music, and the end with a coolguy fall, it seemed like you were drawing from DMC's Dante, where his attitude is both rad but also kind of a meta joke? Either way, I liked it.
On a technical level, this is extremely well written, though I can't exactly say I like the character, the quote Barnaby brings up being a big part of this, though on a more minor note she hits some my alarm bells in terms of 'edgy/dark/smart-protagonist' traits and disparaging Junior's mooks when he got his ass kicked by Yang just as easily and actively cowers at her presence feel's hypocritical XD Sorry this is mostly negative but I thought the world building was solid, the background for Juniors bar and gang, where the drugs come from, the effects, that all read quite well and was interesting.
Some good stuff here! The structure feels naturally stoic where it could have come off as stuttering if not done as well. The main character's voice comes across clearly.
Cool. Getting the characters voice/tone right was something that had bugged me after it changed to a more somber (or edgy apperantly) tone. Although I was aiming more at apathetic but I think I screwed that with his analysis of the bombs going off, was originally meant to just be the city square one going off.
There were some word choice issues, though. The very first sentence is full of biological terms describing him smoking a joint, which seems odd to me. Instead of taking in some sinfully smooth prose, it was more like a puritanical schoolteacher's cough. Because he reads so well later on, this first sentence becomes that much less appropriate for the character's inner narration.
Huh. Well I guess the explanation for the bio terms was two part. 1: I had some vague ideas about what his semblance could be capable of (biorythems and such) and 2, because of how I write I tend to re-write when I start up something to pick up speed and re-familiarize myself. Kinda surprised the latter part came off better though, I figured it would be the other way around.
Lastly, something I don't know is a critique or praise, but while it's played fairly straight, there's something about this character that seems self-aware about his 2edgy4u style? Like, between the pot, the music, and the end with a coolguy fall, it seemed like you were drawing from DMC's Dante, where his attitude is both rad but also kind of a meta joke? Either way, I liked it.
Was planning to respond last night but after thinking about it over the day this is actually a little annoyingly accurate. Depressed and apathetic was the intent, Ill have to figure out what to change on the revsion if I continue with the next part.
Funnily enough though, I havent actually ever played DMC or seen it until you brought it up and this is the second time ive unintentionally/knowingly aped somethning. Cant remember what the first one was though.
Cool. works as writing practice if anything then. Been writing First person so long I'd almost forgotten how to write in 3rd until I wrote ∑'re-Borner(nasu/worm cross on SB if interested)(shameless plug is shameless) Could probably have been better though if I spent more time on it.
though I can't exactly say I like the character, the quote Barnaby brings up being a big part of this, though on a more minor note she hits some my alarm bells in terms of 'edgy/dark/smart-protagonist' traits and disparaging Junior's mooks when he got his ass kicked by Yang just as easily and actively cowers at her presence feel's hypocritical
The initial idea was that the MC left beacon in the junior year equivilant. Then spent several years working... side jobs lets call them. At this point he is essentially a seasoned hunter that, while bellow the level of someone like Qrow and Winter who are Veterans, is still capable and basically didn't want to or had any real reason to fight. Junior got beat up? Well that just means he needs to git good.
XD Sorry this is mostly negative but I thought the world building was solid, the background for Juniors bar and gang, where the drugs come from, the effects, that all read quite well and was interesting.
No no. Any constructive criticism is good criticism and anyone who says otherwise probably doesn't want to actually change anything. And thanks, I like world building. Filling in the blanks and creating a history, backstory, and setting is a thought exercise that allways gets me interested in a story, though sadly it can be much more difficult to pull off on a large scale but can be even more enjoyable. RE: ∑Taylor Hebert: Pokemon Master (Worm AU / Pokemon AU).
I think a lot of it depends on context, for instance if I wrote Adam making lots of extremely gendered insults towards Blake about "traitorous whores" ETC then while unpleasant its clearly the villain speaking so he's not meant to be framed as someone to agree with but to defy. A protagonist expressing prejudice can be done, but its a harder line to walk, and will often be an internal issue to overcome over perpetuating, though this is a more recent trend and not prevalent everywhere as some stories do beef up racists, sexists, homophobes or trans-phobics or what have you, but those tend to suck and be awful protagonists... I may be a bit biased though
Cool. works as writing practice if anything then. Been writing First person so long I'd almost forgotten how to write in 3rd until I wrote ∑'re-Borner(nasu/worm cross on SB if interested)(shameless plug is shameless) Could probably have been better though if I spent more time on it.
I thought it was overall well done, though sometimes it did seem to waver between first and third person a little but that may be faulty memory on my part and the practise will almost certainly be useful regardless.
The initial idea was that the MC left beacon in the junior year equivilant. Then spent several years working... side jobs lets call them. At this point he is essentially a seasoned hunter that, while bellow the level of someone like Qrow and Winter who are Veterans, is still capable and basically didn't want to or had any real reason to fight. Junior got beat up? Well that just means he needs to git good.
I am not so comfortable with that myself, plus again, cowering from Yang and he did try to fight her, he just got his ass handed to him. Though the background is definitely interesting.
No no. Any constructive criticism is good criticism and anyone who says otherwise probably doesn't want to actually change anything. And thanks, I like world building. Filling in the blanks and creating a history, backstory, and setting is a thought exercise that allways gets me interested in a story, though sadly it can be much more difficult to pull off on a large scale but can be even more enjoyable. RE: ∑Taylor Hebert: Pokemon Master (Worm AU / Pokemon AU).
I thought you did a really solid job of that and the framing for said exposition was nicely done, going from a moment of reflection and reserved... relief almost in taking a puff and then the thought process going more towards the practicalities of his decisions and desires and how to go about getting them.
Once upon a time there were no kingdoms, humanity was scattered, and all that protected them from the Grimm was but their luck and wits. But one day, a young man appeared. He was tall, and handsome. Blonde curls made up his hair, and he stood with confidence beyond his age.
He did not speak our language, but nonetheless was greeted warmly by the communities he encountered. Still, he did not settle down as he searched for something. The man had said he came from another world, from a world without Grimm, and he was looking for a way back.
Slowly, he started to learn the lay of the land. He traveled across high mountains and wide rivers. He went through great woods, and through countless Grimm. And as the man one day was passing through one of these woods, he came upon a spot where thousands of Grimm were assaulting one of the strongholds of the time.
That day he decided that humanity would be hunted no more and said, "No." as he walked towards the beasts. "Today, I shall become a Star for mankind."
Then the man activated his Semblance. The wounded miraculously healed, the walls rebuild themselves before being being reinforced furthermore by the forest itself. And for once, the Grimm where the ones that died in droves.
And thus the very first kingdom was founded by our forefather, Jaune.
"Crocea Mors." Jaune Arc murmured to himself as he inspected the blade. It was proudly hoisted above his Father's studio, for it was a tool of the past. It was but a mere relic now, passed down generations upon generations of Arc's, and forgotten as it became obsolete.
But that was more than enough.
It had never broken.
It didn't need complicated instructions, or maintenance.
And as much as many may scoff at it, in the middle of the grimmlands a sword is worth a lot more than some nunchacku chainaxes with chainwhip and chaingun action after one runs out of dust and ammo. After all, simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.
There is a reason it is the Arc's ancestral blade, and that is because it's good at what it does. Not many hunter families can even claim to be old.
Carefully grabbing hold of it, the young man hefted it's weight. It felt heavy on his hands, it carried the weight of all his insecurities, for there would be no turning back after this.
Jaune wasn't strong, no. He was weak.
He was lazy, content to let his sisters do all the work and continue the family legacy.
He hadn't even noticed as his training slowly faded away, until it became a thing of the past. That is, until Signal denied him entrance.
He gripped the sword harder before buckling it to his side.
Until... that day... he hadn't understood the relief on his parent's face when he was denied. But he doesn't cares anymore. Jaune knew of the family curse, but he wouldn't let his weakness get in the way again. For himself, for his family, for Rouge...
And thus Jean Arc left his home in the shadows of the night. All his belongings and life-time savings on his backpack.
While covering his face and black hair with the hood of his jacket, the only thing Jaune knew for certain was that he had a train to take to Vale.
Gio Gio survived the Universe retcon thank the Golden Experience Requiem. And he did it again. And Again. And Again. Until one day, he simply ended up in Renmant.
Obviously not being able to become a Gang-star, he did the closest thing possible after getting to know the world. Becoming a Warlord-star and founding the first proto-kingdom of Renmant.
In the way, creating the Arc family. One, if not, the, oldest Hunter family on the world.
The only thing that really stands out about his lineage tough is the hereditary 'semblance' manifestation known as Stands. They are sometimes hereditary, but whether they aren't, the Arc's always awaken a Stand.
Which doesn't needs Aura to work, thus giving them the boost needed to be one of the few lineage of hunters that haven't died. Yet. The Arc' Curse doesn't helps, nor the fact that most tend to die young. Thus the need of so many sisters.
There is the small benefit of having senses as good as a faunus during the night, thanks to their Dhampir blood.
Anyway, moving on.
The Maidens are part of a quartet of Hereditary stands, and the Arrow is still out there. Somewhere.
I'm still thinking a few more ideas, but as it is, right now Jaune would hop onto a SDC freight train and encounter Blake... and Adam. Going something along Black Trailer > Yellow Trailer, as Jaune tries to get his fake Transcripts before even touching Beacon.
Semblances are like the cousins of the Stands. The NOT 'Ghostly' Ripple of someone manifesting their souls. Thus it is not a stand, but it can actually evolve into one if shenanigans happen. They are not compatible.
