Fortnightly Writing Competition "ABSURDITY" Results

Started by Baron, Tue 23/06/2020 04:48:14

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Baron

Hi.  I'm Baron.  I like to write, so I usually compete in AGS's monthly writing competition.  Its official title is the "Fortnightly Writing Competition" (FWC for short).  The contest administrator (i.e. the person who won the last competition) sets a theme and then everyone has two weeks plus the odd extension to write a short story on that topic.  Then there's a reading and voting period that usually lasts from 3-7 days, maybe a bit of administrative downtime in between competitions, and then BAM!  We're back to writing again next month!  Celebrity endorsements include "It is very fun!" (Reiter) and "What competition?" (Ponch).  Basically it is a fun forum in which to explore your creativity, practice writing, and discuss writing challenges with friendly people.  :)

As a writer I will admit that I've fallen into a bit of a rut.  I usually write these really weird absurd little stories that often don't go anywhere and end abruptly.  I think it gets on Sinitrena's nerves, to be honest, but she's too gracious to mention it (much).  :=  So last competition I tried to play it straight and WOW, I actually won!  Which got me thinking... NUTS TO THAT!!!1!  Writing zany silliness is just too much fun!  So this fortnight I give you the theme of....

ABSURDITY!



According to Dr. Google the proper definition of absurdity is: "the quality or state of being ridiculous or wildly unreasonable."  Your challenge is to write a story that is at least 63% absurd 39% of the time.  Maybe you have a quirky character that makes the most unexpected choices; maybe a hugely improbable event throws a mundane scene into utter disarray; maybe the plot twists YOU?  I would give you more direction than that, but you would be compelled to ignore it due to your state of being wildly unreasonable.    Just make your story fun and silly and I'm sure it will pass muster.

Deadline for your submission is midnight at the International Date Line on Tuesday JULY 7, 2020.

Possible voting categories, for those of you striving to win by following the rules (which is the opposite of the absurd mentality you need to win this competition, by the way):

Oddest character: Which character stood out the most for their qualities of being really, really different?
Weirdest plot: The winning story must have a plot that is both discernible and yet wildly outlandish.
Purplest Writing: If we're being honest with ourselves, the most absurd writing is over-the-top flowery.  Who used words in the most absurdly poetic way?
Funniest Larks: Which story had you giggling the most?
Best Absurd Story: Which story was overall the best in your opinion?

Good lick to all the participants!  ;)

Edit: Fixed somewhat unreasonable typo.   ;-D

Sinitrena

Quote from: Baron on Tue 23/06/2020 04:48:14
As a writer I will admit that I've fallen into a bit of a rut.  I usually write these really weird absurd little stories that often don't go anywhere and end abruptly.  I think it gets on Sinitrena's nerves, to be honest, but she's too gracious to mention it (much).  := 

(laugh) (laugh) (laugh)

I love you, Baron, and your writing.  (nod)

Quote from: Baron on Tue 23/06/2020 04:48:14
Good lick to all the participants!  ;)

(laugh) (laugh) (laugh)



Wow, what an articulate post from me... and so mature... :=




Baron

Quote from: Sinitrena on Tue 23/06/2020 05:53:19
Wow, what an articulate post from me... and so mature... :=

The baronification process has begun!  :shocked:

Quote from: Laura Hunt on Tue 23/06/2020 06:46:12
Quote from: Baron on Tue 23/06/2020 04:48:14
It's official title

(roll)

I'll fix that, but only because it's just a somewhat unreasonable typeo.  If it were wildly unreasonable it would have to stay.  (nod)


Sinitrena

Quote from: Baron on Tue 23/06/2020 17:34:35
Quote from: Sinitrena on Tue 23/06/2020 05:53:19
Wow, what an articulate post from me... and so mature... :=

The baronification process has begun!  :shocked:


No, no, I don't want to! Please, get me out of here. Please! Help! Help me, please! Help!

*Sini claws on her monitor, complete panic washing over her face...

:=

Baron

Quote from: Sinitrena on Tue 23/06/2020 20:57:27
*Sini claws on her monitor, complete panic washing over her face...

Is that panic washing over your face?  It's hard to see with the monocle in the way....

DBoyWheeler


Baron

Well, logically that would make sense.  In a contest of absurdity, however....  ;-D

Sinitrena

Got an idea. - So, then, why is reality constantly knocking and shouting "Nope, tried that one already!!!"  :-\

Baron

Reality is always shouting nonsense.  Listening to it could be advantageous in a competition such as this.  (nod)

Baron

One week left, folks.  If you're the type of writer that likes to wait until the last minute, you've still got all kinds of time to procrastinate!  ;-D

Sinitrena

My muse is annoying. I might need a little more time.

Baron

Are you saying I'm your muse?  :shocked:  Extension granted!  ;-D

It's summer and I'm feeling lazy, so let's extend the deadline to Monday July 13.

Mandle

Oh, this theme is too good to ignore!

I'm (kinda) in!!!

Mandle

Here's an entry I collaborated on with a guest writer:

Jup

Jup is a tiny wood-tick who lives in a knot-hole in the back wall of the "Greenish Pig" tavern's toilet wall.
One day, Jup decides he has had enough of toilet life and heads out into the world to seek his destiny! He wanders around aimlessly for quite some time until one day he stumbles upon a small town called "Tumbleweed".
Jup finds himself in the center of the town. He sees an old man making potions in a brown building. Jup goes up to him and asks if he can be of some assistance. The man says sure, so he hands Jup a vial of purple liquid.
"Drink this. It'll make you taller," he says.
"Taller?" asks Jup.
"Yes, it's a potion. Drink it."
Jup does as he is told and after drinking the potion he discovers he is now two feet tall. He is a little disappointed that he isn't a giant, but decides it's still better than being a princess.
"Now go in there and give that girl a drink," says the man, pointing to a small house across from him.
Jup walks over to the girl's house and rings the doorbell. An old lady comes to the door.
"Can I help you?" she asks.
"I have come here to give you a drink."
"Oh, really? I haven't had anyone here to give me a drink in quite some time."
The lady tells Jup to come in and he does. He enters the house and sees a staircase going down. Downstairs he finds a man, a woman, a child and another old lady all in a row.
"Hey, we're the last survivors on earth. Can you give us a drink?" says the old lady.
"We're the last survivors on Earth," repeats the man.
"We're the last survivors on Earth," says the child.
"We're the last survivors on Earth," says the woman. 
Jup looks at the old lady and then at the man, the woman, the child and finally the old lady again. He slowly reaches into his satchel and pulls out a glass bottle with a cork in it.
"We're the last survivors on Earth," says the man.
"We're the last survivors on Earth," says the woman.
"We're the last survivors on Earth," says the child.
"We're the last survivors on Earth," says the old lady.
Jup uncorks the bottle and pours the drink down the old lady's throat. She begins to get smaller and smaller. The man, the child, and the woman all begin to get smaller until they are no bigger than ants. Jup watches as they all enter the old lady's mouth, which closes upon itself.
"Ah, that's better," says the old lady as Jup steps up to the fireplace. "Have a seat."
Jup sits down on a comfortable-looking chair in front of the fireplace. The old lady takes a seat beside him and rests her head on his shoulder.
"Welcome to my home," she says. "Now tell me, what brings you to my little house in the middle of nowhere?"
"I'm looking for the man who drank all the water on Earth." Jup replies.
"Why?"
"Because he's my enemy and I want to destroy him."
"I see. And where is this man? I don't think we've ever seen him."
"He lives in a tower."
"A tower? Hmm, I'm not sure we have any around here. We do have a nice library, though. Would you like to see it?"
"Yes," says Jup.
The old lady stands up and pulls Jup to his feet. She walks him to the library and opens the door for him. They walk in and the room is filled with books. The smell of the books is intoxicating to Jup, who finds himself drawn to them. He walks past the old lady and picks up a book.
"This is a very old book," she says. "It's in Latin and I don't understand it, so you'll just have to take my word for it that it's a good book."
Jup opens the book and starts reading the words on the page. He finds himself captivated by the words and forgetful of all else. He reads for a while, then hears someone calling his name. He looks up and sees the old lady with a worried look on her face.
"Come on, Jup. We have to go. The man who drank all the water is coming. He'll find his way here no matter what, but we can try to confuse him if we leave now."
"But I haven't finished reading," says Jup.
"You can read later. Come on! He's getting closer and we don't have time to talk to him."
The old lady grabs Jup by the hand and leads him towards the door. He pulls his hand away.
"I have to finish reading this book," he says.
"No, you don't," she replies. "The man who drank all the water is coming. We have to go before he finds us. Now, come on!"
The old lady drags Jup out of the library and he follows. They run outside and to the top of the nearest hill before stopping to take a breather.
"He's getting closer," says the old lady. "He'll find his way here whether we like it or not. We need to leave now."
The old lady turns to Jup. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have escaped the man who drank all the water? Most who are trapped here don't get that chance. If you stay here, you'll end up like them. I only helped you because I'm a nice old lady, not because I like you. Now, I have to go. Good luck dealing with the man who drank all the water, child. I hope you find your way out of this forest. I'm going back to the library. I wish you well, child. Goodbye. Oh, and take this."
The old lady hands Jup a small wooden ring. "It's the only thing left of my home. It was a ring my grandmother gave me. She used to tell me it had magic in it, but I never knew what it did until now. It'll protect you if you wear it. He can't get to you if he can't see you. Good luck, child. I hope we meet again somewhere down the road. Goodbye."
The old lady leaves, never to be seen nor heard from again. Jup is all alone in the middle of a dark and desolate forest. He puts the ring on and feels some strange warmth coming from it. He hopes it works.
Hours turn into days as Jup searches the forest for a way out. He hasn't eaten in days and has resorted to drinking the moisture in the leaves, which has no effect. He gets sleepy, but not to the point of unconsciousness. He's still aware of his surroundings. He doesn't know what else to do.
Suddenly, it starts raining. It's not a heavy rain, but it's enough to drown in if you're not careful. Jup runs back to the tree line and finds he's standing knee-deep in muddy water. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. This isn't going well.
Then, it gets better. The water starts to recede.
Jup can't believe it. He starts to look around. The water's not even that high anymore! He can walk across! He's going to make it after all!
Then, the sun starts to shine. It's a nice day. Jup decides to take a break from his situation and explore the surroundings. He's pretty much in the middle of a clearing. He sees roads going off in three different directions. To the east, he sees a very well-maintained highway. It's easy to tell that there has been human activity here recently. To the north, he sees a dirt path disappearing into the forest. It looks like it might go all the way around the forest, which would be the perfect solution to his problem. To the west, he sees a hill rising up in the distance.
Jup is still starving, so he decides to investigate the highway first. He walks up to it and starts exploring. He sees a trail of dust going on for miles and realizes that it must be a road from a long time ago. It's very overgrown and impassible, but that doesn't stop him. He walks up to the side of it and can see more from there.
He sees what looks like an old parking lot with a bunch of cars in it, all of them crushed.
Jup wonders if the man who drank all the water in the world had anything to do with this. He doesn't see any evidence of it. There are no bodies or anything like that, just crushed cars. He starts walking further down the road and sees a turn-off not far from there. He sees an old RV parked there, covered in vines and the largest ants he's ever seen crawling all over it. There are also several smaller ants crawling on Jup, biting him painfully.
Jup shakes off the ants and continues to explore. He finds that there are several buildings down here, including a gas station, a restaurant, an old motel and what looks like a pawn shop. He wonders what any of this is doing here.
As Jup is pondering this, the sun goes down. Jup tries to find a place to sleep, but everything is covered in ants. He ends up sitting on top of the gas pump and spends the night there.
The next day, he starts looking around for a job.
The first building that he tries is the pawn shop. The owner is a cranky old man who doesn't want any help. Jup is forced to seek elsewhere.
The next place he goes to is the diner. The woman there is happy to see someone new come in.
Jup says to the woman "Do you know of the man who drank all the water on Earth?"
The woman thinks for a moment and says "I think I saw something about that on the news! They said they found him and he's at the hospital right now!"
"Can you take me to see him?"
"Sure, follow me."
The woman takes him to a room at the back of the restaurant. A man in a hospital gown sits in a bed. He looks up and says "Hello" when he sees Jup.
Jup says "I've been looking for you."
The man looks surprised and says "Why would you want to do that?"
"I'm from another planet and my people need water. We'll give you anything you want in exchange for water."
The man who drank all the water on Earth starts to throw up all the water he drank. It comes out of his nose and ears. It goes everywhere. He gets so dehydrated that his skin starts to come off. It's gross. Jup thinks it's the worst thing he's ever seen.
The man then stops throwing up the water and gives Jup a big smile. He says "You want some water?"
"Yes, please."
The man laughs and starts laughing so hard that he starts crying. He falls off his chair and starts punching himself in the face. Jup and the woman run out of the room because they think he's having a heart attack.
They quickly come back in and see that he's OK. The man gives Jup a big bottle of water and says "Here you go, free of charge!"
"But where did you get all the water?" Jup asks.
"I drank it all!" the man laughs.
"What? But where did you get it from? I came from another planet and I didn't see any water on your planet at all!"
The man looks at Jup and realizes what he's done. He quickly gets up and starts running around the restaurant, yelling "I drank all the water on Earth! I drank all the water on Earth! Get me out of here! Get me out of here! I've poisoned the water! I've poisoned the water! I've poisoned the water!"
The woman grabs Jup and drags him out of the room.
"What was that all about?" Jup asks.
"He poisoned the water! We have to warn everyone!"
They run outside and start shouting "Water has been poisoned! Water has been poisoned! Don't drink the water! Don't drink the water!" But no one is listening to them. Everyone is too busy enjoying their snacks. They're too far gone at this point.
The two of them sit on the curb and watch as people start dropping dead. Soon, the people of Earth are all dead. Jup is about to cry. He's never known such cruelty before.
A dozen years go by.
When the Earth is a dead world, the Man in the Moon gets out of his bed. He shakes off the sand that was in his hair. He looks at the world that is left. He wonders what it would've been like had he not left that day.
He thinks about the poor wood-tick that lays dead in the dry dust of this dead world.
He wonders what his name was.


Mandle

Quote from: Laura Hunt on Wed 08/07/2020 16:22:50
lol, love it. Is that "guest writer" a certain AI, by any chance? ;)

No... human being... would stack books this way.

Sinitrena

Quote from: Mandle on Wed 08/07/2020 22:38:53
Quote from: Laura Hunt on Wed 08/07/2020 16:22:50
lol, love it. Is that "guest writer" a certain AI, by any chance? ;)

No... human being... would stack books this way.

Could someone enlighten me? What AI are we talking about?  ???

heltenjon


Mandle

So, yeah, I just happened upon the "game" A.I. Dungeon a few days before I saw that the topic for this contest was "Absurdity" and realized the perfect storm I had stumbled into.

The A.I. is very good at writing stories that head off into complete absurdity if the player does not know how to keep it on track, or doesn't care if it derails.

So here is the first collaboration between human writer and A.I. writer ever in the history of this contest (maybe... I didn't check).

What an absurd idea!

The "writing" process:
Spoiler

I, as the human writer, introduced the first concept of the character Jup as the wood-tick living in the knot-hole in the wall of the tavern's toilet and his desire to head out and seek his destiny.

These were the only initial lines I wrote before unleashing the A.I. writer:

QuoteJup is a tiny wood-tick who lives in a knot-hole in the back wall of the "Greenish Pig" tavern's toilet wall.
One day, Jup decides he has had enough of toilet life and heads out into the world to seek his destiny!

Then I let the A.I. just keep writing the story by pushing "ENTER" with no input from myself.

Whenever the A.I. got too confused (which was often), like mixing up the identities of characters or suddenly warping to a completely disconnected story, I would hit the "refresh" button (which deletes the last story lines from the A.I. and generates new ones) until it was somewhat back-on-track and less confused, but I still let the absurdities creep in as long as the story didn't get completely hijacked.

Now and then I prompted the A.I. with questions from the main character, Jup, about "The man who drank all the water on Earth" because I loved that the A.I. had come up with that character as the villain of the story. I did this to "remind" the A.I. about who the main villain was, or it will forget after 20 inputs I believe.

I didn't use the "/remember" function during this story as I felt it might rein-in the A.I.'s full insanity too much if I did. The "/remember" notepad is the A.I.'s "permanent" memory where you can store important story points so that the A.I. will not forget them 20 inputs later. It kind of works if you are playing a game where you want continuity, but I didn't need too much of that for this one.

After the "story" reached a point that felt like an ending I went back and re-edited a lot of context that didn't make sense and cut a few paragraphs that just meandered and added nothing to the main "plot".

I also edited the final few sentences of the "story" a bit so it felt more like an ending. (The A.I. will just continue to blather on forever usually unless you decide a point at which to end any given tale. There are "death" endings in the game but they are very Alpha-stage and quite broken, but can be ignored if they crop up.)

So, I guess I can credit myself with about a 10% writing credit, and also as editor of the collaboration.

Oh, and 100% credit as whatever the name for the job of standing behind the writer and whacking them with a stick every time they start to head into complete la-la-land is...
[close]

Having reread my "own" story a few times I think it feels like a mix of a semi-lucid dream and a David Lynch piece. Or maybe those are pretty much the same thing anyway?

Or maybe I'm just being even more absurd!

Sinitrena

Wish-Fulfilment

“Welcome to the 6674th intergalactical and interdimensional yearly (that is, depending on your world and perception of time) conference of genies, fairies, sandmen (and -women), santas, muses and other wish-fulfilling entities.”

Applause and various kinds of cheers echo through the hall, where things of all shapes and forms have found themselves after an onerous and odorous (mainly roses and jasmine â€" ask the genies for an explanation on that one!) journey through glittering wormholes and shiny data streams. Even the world of wishes and dreams has decided on the implementation of modern methods and when you are slightly ethereal, then why shouldn’t you use an Ethernet cable? Their kind of logic is always to the extreme and therefore extremely illogical.

Most worlds tend to stick to their own. No matter how little they know or like each other, entities from the same corner of the universe (or multi-verse) always seem to drift towards the same corner of this giant room. Though, corner is probably a misnomer. The hall twists and smells in all sizes of grey (wait, that makes no sense â€" who exactly asked a human to write about a meeting of… of… Damn muses, always messing up the brain… Anyway, where was I?) So, the hall is big, colourful, glittering, confusing, that kind of stuff. There is very little that makes sense to a human eye there, so it probably is a good idea that no human goes there, ever. (Again, damn these muses.)

So, in this corner of the hall, we have a group of known entities from the good old Earth (you know, the one next to Mars, with a moon and some silly little lifeforms that think they are more important than they actually are): Santa with Coca-Cola colours, a couple muses (mine probably included â€" I hope you enjoy your vacation, o loveliest and fairest of all, painter of the mind, dancer of the heart, basileia of poets, elegance in word and wind, … (Okay, I think that’s enough now, Calliope. I’m supposed to get on with this story, aren’t I?)). Santa sits on some kind of throne and has actually brought a couple of reindeer along, while around him, shimmering in all colours of the rainbow, imposing genies float on cushions of air and fire. Underneath their feet, Heinzelmännchen, for the first time in what feels like millennia to them, rest their own feet high up on padded stools. Here and there, a tooth fairy or other kind of fairy (they are difficult to differentiate) whirs through the clouds of nothing of the genies, and in every shadow, dark and deep, even though this room has light all around, maybe is light itself, stands one of the sandman, always ready to sprinkle sand in eyes and bring dreams and nightmares.

While the speaker-thingy (You do not want me to describe this thing. Honestly, you do not! Don’t ask!”) speaks up front (I really should stop using any kind of directional words in this setting, they make no sense) on a podium of twisted branches and convulsing statues, the creatures from planet earth seem to be caught up in some kind of argument.

One of the genies, his puffy clothes billowing around his ill-defined form, fluffs himself up. He raises to his full size (whatever that may be, he’s an air-jinn, after all) and brandishes his golden scimitar in an only mildly threatening manner (which is mainly due to the fact that he is so high up in the air that even to other mythological creatures, he is a bit difficult to see. Otherwise, I’m sure, it would be the most threatening gesture ever imagined.) But the jewels on it, rubies, sapphires, amethysts, lapis lazulis and berg crystals, all collect the light in their cuts and send blinding flashes towards the non-existing walls. The muses, always ones to take an opportunity to dance and sing, add their music to the jinn-made disco-lights, though their music choice is much more Vogelweide style than Gangnam Style. Though, one cannot say that they don’t fill the air with beauty and elegance. Their eternal poetry fills hearts and souls of even the crudest individual. With the most delicate waves of their hands, the tiniest nod of their head, they instil the seed of millions of stories in our minds and â€" (Calliope, I think that’s really enough now. This story isn’t supposed to be about you!)

Apparently, muses are pretty good at pouting.

“It’s our shtick to twist wishes! We turn words around, that’s our thing!” the jinn no puffs and huffs. (Really, how do you think air speaks? It’s actually a kind of pleasant sound, even when the guy is angry. You kind of feel like in a summer’s breeze on the beach in the evening, when the worst heat of the day fades and the tide brings the ocean closer to your feet…)

“Not like that,” one of the Heinzelmännchen answers, his voice meek and squeaky. In his hands he twists a red bobble cap that is completely worn out from too much stretching and turning in anguish.

“Not like that?” the jinn storms. “For centuries, millennia, we ruled the world of wishes! We are the lords of wishes! We changed them in our way, made people stumble upon their arrogance, their greed, their selfishness. We turned around what they wanted and showed them the errors of their ways. We -”

“Exactly.” The new voice grains from the darkness, like sand between your teeth; a sandman speaking. Despite being slightly granular, it seems calm and dragging you to sleep. Immediately, the jinn deflates and it is hard to tell if it is the sandman’s powers lulling him in, or due to his next words. “You are an entity of punishment as much as one of wishes. And still you did this. Someone asks to be a genie and you make him think he’s a stable genius? Someone asks to have people to trust and you make him believe everything someone says about him as long as it is positive? What are you, an amateur?”

Thunder cracks as the jinn tornadoes. “How dare you question me, mortal!” He hesitates a moment, the air gushing out of him like a deflating balloon. “Or immortal. I don’t even know what you are! Sprinkling sand, that’s just weird.” Anger returns as quickly as it evaporated in confusion and he turns to a victim that seems less sure of himself. “And what are you?” he breezes towards the Heinzelmann. “A domestic servant at best. What are you even doing here? You don’t grant wishes!”

For once in his life, the Heinzelmann frowns angrily. “You have no idea,” he mumbles meekly and tears a hole in the knitted fabric. “Do you ever think of all the poor housewives we help out? Don’t you think they wish for someone to clean and iron and cook once in a while?”

“Poor housewives? That seems like a very sexist way of putting it.” Calliope sounds particularly disgruntled, though no indignation can even begin to impair the all-enticing beauty of the muse or put anything but poetry into her mouth. Every swear-word becomes the most beautiful compliment from Calliope’s tongue, and even the most gruesome scene is nothing but elegance from her. A fight scene becomes a wonderful dance, a murder the embrace of death, break-ups are romantic and mundane activities seem to have worldwide significance. Who doesn’t like eyes that are globes, swords that sing, or… (Honestly, Calliope, would you stop that? I can’t keep on describing you like that every time you have something to say. And I do have to go on with the story.)

The Heinzelmann looks fairly confused at the muse. “Sex...sexists?” he stutters, “I don’t… We are...” After a few moments of desperately trying to find a defence, he finally blurts out: “We do the housework and we’re an entirely male species! It’s even in the name!”

The muse just snorts and turns away.

“Children” Santa booms from his throne. (Did he bring it along? That seems like a lot of work just for some conference. Of course he did, answers Calliope disparagingly.) “Let us not fight. Let us celebrate happiness and glee, hopes and dreams. Peace and glory among all.”

“Oh, bollocks,” sings the muse, a melody of flowers filling the air. It rises and falls like a leaf in the wind. “Everyone knows you’re a fucking slave-driver, Nick.” With every word, oh so clear like a crystalline pendant, a garden spreads from her shoeless feet. Roses build paths in a sea of lilies and lushly decorated fountains sprout water in a firework of foam and sparkling pearl. Just her voice brings forth the purest song of canaries and sparrows, her eyes the glittering shimmer of silver and gold, her tongue â€" lashing as it might be â€" paints the world in colours so clear, so strong, so full that rainbows encircle the plush pillows of brocade and velvet she rests her golden locks on. Her words create pillars so delicate, so dainty, and yet they hold up a baldachin of intricate fabric, embroidered with patterns of labyrinths and mystic creatures.

(Calliope, please…)

The scents of freesias, of jasmine (I guess she’s friends with the genies to some degree), of lilies and lavender wafts in clouds of lilac fog around the heads of the attending entities, filling their minds with rhythm and rhyme. Iambs and trochees catch every mind and it is as if she has spoken in the most thoughtfully constructed poem.

(That was not a poem, Calliope. Honestly, what are you doing?)

Vines of roses encircle the pillars, making pathways in the drab conference hall and mythological creatures that decorate Calliope’s pillars and her furnitures â€" thrones and beds and divans â€" begin to sway their heads and bodies to the lyrical melody of the muse’s beauty and -

(Calliope, that’s enough now! I really can’t… Calliope, do I really have to write this? It’s getting rather difficult and exhausting to add your descriptions into this text. We both know this has nothing to do with the actual story, so why am I writing this?

You forgot to add the author whines to that, Calliope grumbles.

I deleted it. But honestly, why am I writing any of this? It’s exhausting, this petty squabbling here. And besides, the story has no plot, the characters are mainly annoying, there’s no message, no greater meaning… Why am I writing this?

Calliope’s voice loses all beauty. Angrily, she turns towards the author. You ungrateful little -, she hisses and snakes shoot out from her mouth. You do as I say!, she says, I give you all the inspiration to fill your ideas and you get all the credit and then you dare call me annoying?!!

Isn’t that your job?

The muse’s palace vanishes in a cloud of smoke and she starts to walk through dimension and reality towards the author. Claws start to grab through paper and monitor.

But before she can do more, the author turns towards the jinn. Hey, you, jinn! Yes, you, blue guy, has knives for teeth (I forgot to describe them. Oh, who cares, just believe that they are there) â€" looks good, really good indeed! - No, no, I’ll introduce myself later, for now, could you… I mean… I wish â€" I really wish the story would end already!)

The jinn, due to confusion looking even more like a deflated balloon then during the discussion before, turns and twists in Calliope’s smoke. Bound by the old tradition of saying I wish right to his face (the thing with the bottle and three wishes is really just a myth) he breathes a simple “As you wish.” and turns back towards his compatriots to restart their squabble.

And so, as with all 6673 intergalactical and interdimensional yearly conferences of wish-fulfilling entities, this one ended in chaos.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Basileia: female form of basileus, Greek: queen, empress
- Calliope: One of the muses in Greek mythology. She’s responsible for eloquence and epic poetry.
- Heinzelmännchen: Gnome-like creatures from a legend about the German city Cologne. They do all kinds of chores so the inhabitants of the city can be lazy. When they are angered at one point, they stop doing them and disappear, so now the people of Cologne have to work like everyone else.
- Vogelweide (Walther von der): German poet and singer (Minnesang), lived in the 12/13th century.
- Gangnam Style: Song by Psy. I think most people are familiar with that one.
- Sandman: Folkloristic creature that sprinkles sand in people’s eyes to give them dreams.
- “Everyone knows you’re a fucking slave-driver, Nick.”: If you’ve read my story Nuts! you do know this.


--------------------------------------------

Quote from: Mandle on Thu 09/07/2020 04:34:09
So, yeah, I just happened upon the "game" A.I. Dungeon a few days before I saw that the topic for this contest was "Absurdity" and realized the perfect storm I had stumbled into.

That explains a lot. I'll have to check this out in detail later.

Baron

Ooo, when it rains it pours!  Keep 'em coming, peeps - you've still got a few days left!   ;-D  ;-D  ;-D

Reiter

Chronicles of Mandolin.

Being a collection of fragmentary tales of the lost Elven city of Mandolin.

Set down for the curious by Blotchimus Lex, Royal Library of Addys.


Part One. On Mandolin's foundation.


It was during the First Age, when the world was even more young and wild than it is today. The great cities of men and orc were still wildlands. The kingdoms of Addys and Kolkait would not be thought of for centuries still. Even the shimmering city of Parmasan was but a wild ambition.

It was one thousand years after the Runic War, where the elves of Bisnûsgarde has surrendered their immortality. Their age was coming to a close, like it has been doing forever since. For as Müsli Thunder-Gatherer [God of War of the Elder pantheon] have said: 'There is nothing so inevitable that it cannot be drawn out, now shut up and fight!'

In that time, the future king Selophan, son of Diazepam, was exiled from the great Elven capital of Alkaloid on the command of his enemy Selûlit, king of Alkaloid, in the second year of his reign. Selûlit, son of Asaklit, took [Verses lost]

[With him were] further Train, of Baan'aan's kin, the master of conceptual theatre in all of Alkaloid. Further were the kin of Tork, son of Dork, slain by the mighty Gorgonzola of Attyk. They continued his legacy of martial arts, such as the splintered picture-frame, the razor-sharp invoice, the mean-spirited caricature.
Further were lady Pepsi, daughter of Pommac, the poet and authoress of so many elven epics, such as 'Ode to an acorn' and 'Valley of the Scones'.
Further were also [Verses mercifully lost]

[And so] Selophan gathered his kin, his house and the bones of his father Diazepam, and built ships to travel over the sea, to find a way home to the old land to rest his weary, peace-less head, or to die usefully.

With him were six other lords, ladies and dwellers of Alkaloid, now hateful to the eyes of king Selûlit. With them were also kin, servants, retainers and transients prepared to brave death upon the waves rather than remain in Alkaloid, for elven kings live for a long time.
They went down the Molluscoid River in their ships, and wept all the way, for it is impossible for a glittering of elves to travel any particular distance without making a scene. They were rowing for Bumbling Bay and the wider seas, to that distant land where elves goes to die.

Selophan's ships were caught in a storm and took shelter in a tributary in which crimson snappers were plentiful, and they were then trapped in the great old forests when the waters receded. With enemies and local fauna approaching, they [Verses lost]

[And they] came upon a clearing in the woods. Here, Lord Selophan was given a sign by the Gods from the stars above, when the pelican of Müsli did battle with the white squirrel of Atari on top of a mulberry bush.
'Here shall our new city stand', said Selophan, son of Diazepam, and they set to work. They hewed the stone and grew hedges and chalked croquet lanes and [Verses lost]



[And so] was Rofl of the Lmao vanquished, and the rising city saved, and King Selophan melted the swords of the marauding nerds down and made them into mandolins, for the mandolin was the favoured instrument of the bards of Alkaloid. [Verses lost]

'O, how happy is he who's walls rise high'

So said Selophan, son of Diazepam, King of Mandolin.

Part Two. On being hidden.


O, clever was the kin of Selophan when they hid their city. For it was dark days and the kingdom of Alkaloid could bear no competing cities to its own splendour, even as it was forever plating these by throwing its nobles out. But Mandolin was well-hidden, deep within the forest where Selophan's ships had washed ashore, and where snappers [Verses lost]

For no mortal can find the secret road, so cleverly hidden and revealed only in veiled [Verses lost]

For the Mandolin tour guide, which was passed onto those who would leave the city to trade, or to the visitors found worthy, was a carefully constructed riddle, to keep away all those not stout of mind and good of heart, for it [Verses lost]

[No one] knows to follow the Molluscoid River to the mouth of the Snappy River, nor can they then follow the dry riverbed and then make a left turn at the old ruin of what the elders once called a service station nor can they turn right at the ancient statue of the old one-eyed wyrm Tod'gur and then left again at the sunken glade and then follow the brook for three-hundred paces and then follow the other dry riverbed (with pretty blue flowers growing along its sides) through the gigantic hedges and find themselves at the enchanted old toll booth.

Nor can they see the old secret signpost that says 'The Secret City of Mandolin' and enter, nor can they guess the secret password which is 'flounder'.

Part Three. A tour of Mandolin.

O, to see the splendour of Mandolin in its prime. First are the great hedges of Mandolin, the first wall, the barrier between the wild woods and the great lawn, where croquet and concerts are played. Beyond stand the walls of Mandolin city, carefully sculpted from mint-flavoured bubble-gum. If the wind is right, one can [Verses lost]

[A] shining example of culture. The theatres of Mandolin were the envy of the world, as was its music halls and its troupes of bards. These were entrusted with the Secret Way, and set forth into the world to bring music and tone where-ever they went.
Its bingo halls were [Verses lost]

Its treasures included the enchanted swords of Glamrock and Orchestra, which would play music, were stainless and required no charging. Indeed, glow-in-the-dark daggers playing festive songs were an indispensable Mandolin souvenir.

And the treasure hoard of King Selophan himself was the envy of the lands, filled with silver, gold, jewels and ancient vintage comic-books. There was a vintage edition of the second issue of [Verse lost]

Part Four. Mandolin's doom.

[This part of the chronicles are severely fragmented, and it would seem that most of it is lost. What we know is that the people of Mandolin did something that cursed the city, made them enemies of the world, and brought the attention of several formidable creatures who descended to destroy the outlaw city.]

[With] fury and fire, and the free people of  Bisnûsgarde turned their backs upon Mandolin.

So did Mandolin and its people trespass, and so did they fall. As the hosts of darkness assembled to do the work of the light, the gods wept and took their hands from Mandolin.


Part five. Fall of Mandolin.

[The invaders] found their way by following a trail of singing, glowing novelty swords, left along the secret path by the traitor Malibu, son of None. [Verses lost]

And lo, for forth from the south came that hideous creature now forgotten to the world, who still dwells in the darkness, that great beast by men named Cambozola. Beside him were his dripping consorts, and his legion of fromagian warriors, heaving a stench that lay over the host as a fine, cheesy mist.

And lo, for forth from the west came the king of the spurned and rejected, the Overlard of Odor, and with him his hosts of ogres, and the rallied legion of the lowly creatures of the world. Adventure-fodder and mild annoyances divided, a terrifying horde united. Goblins and kobolds marched together, rats and spiders took the rear, and slimes and [Verses lost]

And lo, Czar Samovar and his legion of killer tea-pots, murderous crockery and scone-trolls fell upon them from the east. Their many mechanical legs clanked and clinked, their contents hissed and sputtered, as they surveyed the walls of Mandolin with blazing eyes and spat with rage.

And lo, for from the south came a host of unhappy kitchen appliances, rallied under the old banner of Elektroslusk, and accompanied by lost socks and by the disgruntled [Verses lost]


[And on] the second day, the gates of Mandolin fell. The foul traitor Malibu, wishing to be spared from Mandolin's doom, and get a part of the loot for himself, revealed that the walls of Mandolin were impervious to anything â€" anything but saliva.
So did the hosts of darkness amass together and lick the walls at critical points until they came crashing down. Malibu the Disgraced were rewarded as is proper, when the Cambozola ate his flesh and spat the bones onto the defenders of the wall.
There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth and digging of tunnels as the walls came down, and [Verses lost]

Gain, son of Pain, son of Drain, lord of house N'ub, fell valiantly in battle with a savage pack of Babybels, as the formidable fromagians stormed the performance arts centre. So great was the price they paid that his sword was caked red with wax when the dance concluded.

Arthropoda, daughter of Agoraphobia, lady of house Mammot, rallied her shield-maidens and stood her ground at the great bingo halls, where they eventually fell before the might of the onslaught, but not before tepid earl grey ran to their ankles, and smashed crockery clogged the hallways.

Alko, son of Banco, lord of house B'anana, stood and fell inside the great dining hall of Dinerbel, where he single-handedly ate all of the food present to deprive the enemy of their loot. He defeated all of the roasts, crushed all of the pastries and conquered every pillar of fruit while the ogres where battering down the doors. They tore his corpulence into quarters when they knew that they had been robbed of their price. Lord Alko died smiling.

Warmistress Foam, daughter of Loam, died in battle (technically) when a toaster convinced her to retrieve a piece of Cram bread from its gaping jaw. [Verses lost]

O, mortal ears have seldom heard such a cacophony of clashing swords, crashing shields, cracking skulls, chipping porcelain... Oaths and curses and pleas and war-cries. Blaring cracked trumpets, snapping banjo strings, grand pianos dropped from a great hight to land on cheddars with a pleasing, squishy crunch. O! A racket stood from Mandolin that will only be heard again come the dawn of the Utmost Day! [Verses lost]

And so, on the dawn of the third day, the will of the divines had been done. The city of Mandolin, and the clan of Selophan, son of Diazepam, was no more. The aurora came glowing as every morning before and since, and touched nought but smoke and rubble. No birds of the forests saluted it for miles.

As the host of darkness dispersed, admiring their loot all the way, a new age began. Alkaloid was long since abandoned, and the kins of Asaklit, Baa'naan, Pommac and Diazepam were all so much dust. When the towers of [Verses lost]

[For] they, Selophan's kin, lived by the words of Atari, goddess of music, as she uttered them on the dawn of mortality.

'O lambda blarni bamba barbados garami'

'A string never strung to bow and lyre will never break â€" and never sing.'

Passing notes.

The fall of Mandolin occurred some three thousand years ago, and many now claim that it is, in fact, mythological. These fragmentary texts were collected, translated and restored by the author from several different sources, chiefly old issues of the 'Believe it or Not Guide to Bisnûsgarde'. The reader is advised to judge for themselves. However, it should be noted that there was, demonstrably, a great war at that time, and that it was followed by the Age of Barbarians, where monsters and heroes walked the land. Indeed, paleo-barbaric art makes constant references to beasts such as Camemberts and trouser-presses and other such beings also thought to be mythological until they began chewing up adventurers again. Can we truly afford, as a culture, to relegate any discomforting memory to the land of fairy-tales?

Further, what became of the enemies of Mandolin?

The formidable kitchen appliances faced a bitter end, for they suffered greatly from that dark curse that had been weaved into their fates at the dawn of time. That hideous spell now known as Planned Obsolescence.
They soon fell dead to the ground. Only a few still remain in this world, bitter and abandoned.

Czar Samovar was later defeated in the War of the Lone Sock, but not vanquished. He and his malevolent machines still linger on, plotting a new age of terror, when Men wants for tea and have no place to boil it.
For it is said that as a new age of heroes dawn, the legacy of dark lord Kon Tryvanz rise again, and the hosts of darkness will gather once more.

The ruins of Mandolin are still out there, in the great Mordermarch forest, luring treasure hunters to their doom. What became of their treasures is not known, although many have come to seek for it. None have returned.

...

Now, truly, this challenge was rather difficult. I have neglected my funny-bones for much too long. I eventually cultivated a text I liked, but with the dead-line looming, I had no choice but to chop it up and piece it back together, and plug all the missing parts up á la Gilgamesh.

I shall endeavour to write more sillies in the future, for exercise and to amuse Baron.

Baron

And the window for submissions is officially closed!  We have three wild and crazy stories to consider in the voting round, listed below in no rational order:

Chronicles of Mandolin by Reiter
Jup by Mandle
Wish Fulfillment by Sinitrena

The voting criteria will be as follows:

Oddest character: Which character stood out the most for their qualities of being really, really different?
Weirdest plot: The winning story must have a plot that is both discernible and yet wildly outlandish.
Purplest Writing: If we're being honest with ourselves, the most absurd writing is over-the-top flowery.  Who used words in the most absurdly poetic way?
Funniest Larks: Which story had you giggling the most?
Best Absurd Story: Which story was overall the best in your opinion?

Voting is open till Friday July 17.  In general I don't like closing things on a Friday, mostly because I personally don't do things until the last minute and I also don't tend to do things Friday night.  So if you want to vote, but can't make the deadline, please post and I'll grant a voting extension.  In the meantime, it is time to read and enjoy!  Best of luck to all entrants.  :)

Sinitrena

Quote from: Baron on Wed 15/07/2020 02:03:00
We have three wild and crazy stories to consider in the voting round, listed below in no rational order:

Chronicles of Mandolin by Reiter
Jup by Mandle
Wish Fulfillment by Sinitrena

Lies!!! They are clearly in alphabetical order!  ;)



@Mandle: You put me in a bit of a difficult situation as how to treat your story. By your own admission
QuoteSo, I guess I can credit myself with about a 10% writing credit, and also as editor of the collaboration.
And that is not a lot when it comes to a writing competition. This becomes relevant for voting. After all, this is a writing competition, I would say, where the process of writing is to some degree relevant and not just the end product. That out of the way, let's look at the story seperate from its creation.
This is one fever ride of a story. The characters are great in their absurd inconsistency, the plot makes a surprising amount of sense and the ending is astoundingly depressing for such a silly little story. Honestly, I would have left out the the "A dozen years go by" part. Having all the water poisend is also not a fun ending, but it fits well enough with the rest, while the last few lines introduce a new character and a far removed look on all that happened before. Putting such a silly story in a greater context takes some of its silliness away and leads to a bleak outlook on the world, that shifts the tone quite a bit.
You obviously can't point out plot-holes in a story like that like you would in other stories, but there's still one that took my further out of the story than seems like a good idea: It should not rain when all the water on earth is in the belly of the villan. Again, I recognize that inconsistencies fit this kind of story and actually add to its silliness and absurdity, but while all other inconsistencies made me smile and shake my head, this one took me out of the experience for a moment.
Now, how can I vote for a story that is only partially written and edited by a human being. On the one hand, one could say that it doesn't matter who wrote something, but I don't think that would feel right to me. I could vote for the AI, but creativity is an instinctual and rational activity, both characteristics that computers according to our general understanding do not have. Or, and that is what I am left with, I can give this story points in the categories that where still mainly influenced by the creativity of a real human being.

@Reiter: Absurdity does not necessarily lead to humour. Absurdity can be confusing, depressing, frightening... You note that you were going for humour, but at least for me you did only partially succeed. I know that I often have difficulties recognizing humour. Things most people find funny leave me completely cold. So, when I say that I did not find your story funny, with the exception of some small details, that might be to a large degree my own inability to react to humour.
Unfortunately, one large part that made your story even difficult to go through for me, was the rather choppy presentation. The constant "lost verses" and the jumps through a long timeline made it fairly difficult to even understand some parts of the story. Once I knew what was going on in one part, the story already jumped to the next one.
In the beginning, the story does not even seem that absurd, more like a standard founding myth of a city. All that had absurd elements were the names of the characters (and I have to admit that I didn't get all of them) and only later when it came to the fighting of china and cheese did the absurdity start to show. But really, it somehow fit a bit too well into the story to seem that absurd. Why shouldn't magicians enchant all they have to fight? We see this in a serious version in Harry Potter's battle of Hogwarts, for example. So, my suspension of disbelief was slightly too large to see this as much out of the ordinary.
Going back to the names for a moment, I like the fromagian warriors (though I nearly pointed them out as a mistake, thinking of the italian word for cheese - formaggio - but I guess if you were going for the french one - fromage - it is correct). Anyways, I do like this name, as most of the others. I only wish they conveyed more of a characteristic of the people. All in all, the characters show fairly little personality and are in the end fairly forgettable.
I don't know you and your writing as long as Baron or Mandle, but this is probably the weakest story I have read from you so far. (Sorry if this all sounded a bit harsh.)



Votes:

Oddest character: Reiter's characters did not leave much of an impression with me and Mandle's wood-tick Jup is one of the parts that is clearly created by Mandle himself and already shows some personality in just a few sentences, so I go with Mandle here.
Weirdest plot: While I find Mandle's plot weirder and more interesting, I don't think I can credit its creation to Mandle. Therefore, based on a technicallity, I assign this point to Reiter.
Purplest Writing: Reiter, and in that case not based on technicallity. There's some interesting writing, especially when it comes to the part of the cheese and china wars.
Funniest Larks: Mandle's story had me giggle far more, but again, that was the AI's doing, and not Mandle's, so Reiter it is.
Best Absurd Story: It should be clear from my comments above that I prefer Mandle's story. And because this category more than all others asks for the end product and because I think editing and idea (as in, the idea to use an AI, not the idea of the plot) play a larger part here, my last point goes to Mandle.

I know that my votes here might seem slightly unfair, but I value the writing process in a writing competition higher than just the story I get to read in the end.

Mandle

I guess maybe my entry should be voted for as "A.I. (with Mandle)" so there isn't the conflict of how much contribution I actually had.

Sinitrena

I considered this. I even mention it as a possibility in my post above:

QuoteI could vote for the AI, but creativity is an instinctual and rational activity, both characteristics that computers according to our general understanding do not have.

And I stand by this. I do not think an AI is capable of creativity in this sense and therefore cannot receive votes in a competition focussed on creativity.

That's only my opinion, of course, and I would not mind at all if someone disagreed and neither would I argue with them.

Mandle

Quote from: Sinitrena on Thu 16/07/2020 21:12:35
I do not think an AI is capable of creativity in this sense and therefore cannot receive votes in a competition focussed on creativity.

So A.I.ist!!!  (laugh)

But yes, it is a bit absurd... Hey, wait a...!

Sinitrena

Yes, poor AI, always discriminated against. I'm an evil, evil person.  ;)

Mandle


Mandle

Yes, Baron, can we absurdly extend the voting period over the weekend please?

I've been absurdly busy with other things and have not even read the other two entries yet, as absurd as that might seem for me.

Baron

This request is absurd!  I will consider it carefully for several days before coming to a decision one way or the other.  :=

Ess2s2

Oddest character: I must say, The Man who Drank all the Water on Earth embraced absurdity the absolute best. Absolutely Mandle here. None of the other characters stood out to me at all.
Weirdest plot: I think the line between a weird plot, and a disjointed/broken plot is a very fine one. Reiter manages to create a weird plot without going completely off the rails into something unreadable. The other entries were a bit too manic to follow easily.
Purplest Writing: Sinitrena's entry is the textbook definition of purple writing. Entire paragraphs to that effect owed primarily to the muse itself. Reiter's story had some great verse but was overall rather straightforward, and Mandle's was--by-design--dry and concise.
Funniest Larks: Reiter was the best here, illustrating a bloody war and the fall of an empire through ridiculous names and preposterous circumstances. Warmistress Foam sticks in my head due to her technical demise at the hands of a particularly charismatic toaster, and I'm still giggling at some of the other scenes. The other stories either had precious few tangents or tried to force them and in turn made them feel clunky and fall flat for me.
Best Absurd Story: Without a doubt, Reiter. The other entries had some good moments, but nothing felt as cohesive and easily absurd as Chronicles of Mandolin.

Great entries by all.
I like games, and I like beer.
I have a Discord: https://discord.gg/pDN5rP6
We talk about games (mostly) and beer (sometimes). It's cool.

Mandle

Absurdly, I have not had the time to read the other two stories yet. And, as there are only two voters so far, can we extend the voting absurdly further?

Baron

What?!?  The absolute ABSURDITY of it all.  Request granted!  (nod)

Sinitrena

That really is getting absurd.  (wrong)

And while Mandle is his usual procrastinating self, has Reiter forgotten us? He hasn't been online since he posted his story.  :(

Oh, and a little reminder, you do not have to be a competitor here to be allowed to vote (and all three stories are comparatively short). So what are you all waiting for?

Sinitrena

Okay, I have to veto this absurdity (in case you're wondering, the right to veto any and all decisions on the running of the FWC is granted to exactly one person - me - and decided by a comitee of all important people, also known as - me  (nod) (laugh)).

It's over a week since the voting period was supposed to end, nearly a week since the extended votong period was supposed to end and six days since Baron granted an additional extension.

Reiter seems to not be around, Mandle had more than enough time to vote, and as always, non-competitors are not really interested in voting.

Baron, declare a winner!
(As the points currently stand, the winner should be Reiter, but he hasn't been online for some time, so I guess that will end up with more waiting. Mandle sits in second place, but at least he's around and is generally better with starting new competions than voting in old ones, so...)

Mandle

ABSURD ACCUSATIONS!!! I was merely giving the community a better chance to vote, and it worked! Nobody voted!

Baron

Quote from: Sinitrena on Mon 27/07/2020 05:02:43
Baron, declare a winner!

Yay!!!!!!!  Oh wait, I misread that.  I thought you declared me the winner.  Ooops.  (roll)

OK, OK.  I'm feeling writey, so we need to wrap this up.  But I thought it only fitting that we count one more set of votes.  Since Mandle wouldn't share his thoughts, I had to go over his head.  The following is the transcript of my attempt to get votes directly out of the AI:

Quote
You are Baron, a rogue living in the kingdom of Larion. You have a long steel dagger and a length of rope. You walk down the city street looking for somewhere to steal from. You look around and see an old man in a nearby house, through a window. You could try to get into the house through the window.
You walk over and knock on the window.


> Mandle wrote an interesting but slightly disjointed story for your Fortnightly Writing Competition. Should he win in the weirdest plot category?

You sit at a table in a barn, next to a small fire. Two men stand on either side of you. One is fat and bearded, the other thin and angular.

> Kay.... So Sinitrena, she wrote a very Baronesque story that had lots of fun and went absolutely nowhere. Can you give her your vote for weirdest plot?

"This story isn't weird. It just has a weird concept," you say. "The other story was more bizarre."
"But the concept is cool," Ian says.


> Right. So the other story you are referring to must be Reiter's -got it. Now as for oddest character, should it be Sinitrena or Reiter?

You walk up a set of stairs and look down at the underground city of Derlerg. Bright lights shine down from above, and people mill about happily.

> Hmmmm. I'll put you down as "undecided" for that category. Now for purplest writing: Sinitrena or Reiter?

You walk into a room with a single chair in it. You sit down and put your head against the back of the chair.
"You are the king of this little kingdom, aren't you?" a voice says.


> So.... I should decide? Honestly, I think Sinitrena's Calliope-inspired purpleness takes the cake in that category. On to Funniest Larks: again, your choices are Sinitrena or Reiter?

You stick your head out of the window and look down. Several streets away is a large group of brawling soldiers.
"I'll give you a hundred silvers to let me in," a voice says.


> A hundred silvers, you say..... Well, Sinitrena has been around the FWC the longest, so I guess she's earned more silver hairs than the rest of you. Lastly I need a best overall. Sinitrena or Reiter?

You walk through a large crowd of people in the city streets. You look around and see that you are in the middle of an election rally. Both candidates for governor are speaking to a massive crowd.

> Yes, two candidates.... but who wins? Is it Sinitrena or Reiter?

You arrive at the gates of the Castle of Iron. A soldier stands on guard.
"Who goes there?"
"I go here."
The guard raises his halberd, pointing it at you.


> Me?!? I can't win! I'm the contest administrator! Should Sinitrena win for her wish-fulfilment conference debacle, or Reiter for his fragmented myth-yarn?

You wake up in the middle of the night with a start. You look around, but your bedroom is empty.
"Sinitrena!" you whisper.
No response.
"Reiter!"


> Yes! Which one?!? Sinitrena or Reiter?

You walk down the stairs and into the great hall.

> And.....

You wake up in a panic, finding yourself fully dressed and ready to leave your bed.
"Sinitrena!"
You begin to head towards the door, but are stopped by the sound of footsteps.


> Got it! Thanks!

Well, that evens things out quite a bit.  It is too bad Reiter couldn't vote, but summer is a time of absences, so we'll just have to soldier on.

Usually the contest administrator doesn't cast any votes, but this is an absurd contest so, ah, what the heck!  :=

Oddest character:  I'm going with Sinitrena's Calliope.  She's the best defined of the characters in all three entries.  In terms of character she's absurdly self-absorbed, effectively hijacking the whole "story", but I thought it made for great reading.

Weirdest plot: So the criteria was that the plot had to be discernible (so that we don't get random word barf entries), yet wildly outlandish.  All three entries were certainly wildly outlandish, but in terms of discernible plot.... that's more debatable.  I found AI's entry to veer confusingly between opposite scenarios in a way that obscured what was actually going on.  Did the old lady shrink or not?  Was the road well-maintained or overgrown and passably impassible?  Sinitrena's story, on the other hand, suffered from a textbook case of plot collapse in a classic Baronesque manner.  While it was entertaining to watch the train wreck unfolding, I can't in good conscience label it a plot.  So somewhat by default I must vote for Reiter, although I might well have done so otherwise.  I remember back in Latin class we spent pretty much the whole year deciphering this one play which was all in fragments, much like Reiter's work.  At the time I found it immensely frustrating, but I found Reiter's take on a similarly fragmented story absolutely hilarious.

Purplest Writing:  I think this comes down to Sinitrena vs. Reiter.  AI tried zer best, but I wouldn't describe zer language as "flowery".  Reiter had some fantastic turns of phrase (my favourite was the enchanted sword of glamrock), but in the end most relied on unexpected vocabulary more than descriptive writing.  Sinitrena on the other hand (or more appropriately Calliope?) was able to paint fawning word-pictures with intricate strokes of sycophantic pigment.  ;-D

Funniest Larks: Well, humour truly is in the eye of the beholder.  For the most chuckles per paragraph I must give this category to Reiter.  The technical battle death of warmistress Foam has already been praised, but also there was the unending end of days as the elves dragged out their demise over the eons, the necessity of chalking out croquet lanes in order to found a proper city, and the very thorough description of how well all the secrets of Mandolin were kept.  Sinitrena's work was a close second for me with its manic descent into struggling egos.  AI's work for me was less funny and more random.

Best Absurd Story: It was a tough choice, but in the end I must vote Reiter, with Sinitrena again as a close second.  The clincher for me was the imaginative sub-plots that each absurd twist of his story hinted at.

So, on to the totals.  The bronze metal (sic) of barrier-shattering goes to AI with three votes.  I hope I do not come across as condescending in congratulating AI on zer groundbreaking foray into creative storytelling.  I think with just a bit more practice you will be better able to cleave to the theme.  Keep at it!

The silver metal of silvery silverness goes to Sinitrena with 6 votes.  I think the Baronesque style suits you, and with more practice I have every confidence that you will master it.  :=

And therefore the gold metal of Oh-Look-How-Great-I-Am goes to Reither with 10 votes.  A well-deserved victory for a much-enjoyed silly story.

So, it is incumbent upon Reiter to start the next competition.  Should he be unavailable to exercise his right within the next three days, the mantle will then pass to Sinitrena for three further days, and then it will be AI's kick at the metaphorical can, after which time if there is still no new contest started I, Baron, will in fact be declared the winner.  ;-D

Great entries everyone, and I look forward to reading you again next time!   

Sinitrena

Quote from: Baron on Tue 28/07/2020 03:34:54
Weirdest plot: (...)  Sinitrena's story, on the other hand, suffered from a textbook case of plot collapse in a classic Baronesque manner.  While it was entertaining to watch the train wreck unfolding, I can't in good conscience label it a plot.

I'd like to point out that the plot never was about the conference of wish-fulfiling entities; the plot was about a frustrated author fighting with an unreasonable muse - which is a complete plot that does not just collapse, but comes to an actual end. It's kind of a meta-plot.  (nod) ;)

Though I wouldn't argue that Reiter had more of a substantial plot overall.


Congratulations to Reiter for winning this absurdity.

(I hope he shows up in the next few days to start a new round.)


Mandle


Baron

Quote from: Sinitrena on Tue 28/07/2020 04:15:34
a complete plot that does not just collapse, but comes to an actual end. It's kind of a meta-plot.  (nod) ;)

Most of my writing tends to suffer from an excess of meta-plot.  ;)

Sinitrena

Still no sign of Reiter. I'll give it a couple more hours, then I'll start a new round as the runner-up to keep our cozy little competition running.

But because I'm not actually the one who should decide on a new topic, if someone (no matter if you are a regular in the FWC or just happen to read this) would really like to see a specific topic and just never manages to win and therefore never gets the chance to set a topic, send me a PM in the next couple of hours and I'll see if there's something useful. Obviously, this offer is not so much meant for people who win somewhat regularly here. And if I get more than one suggestion, I reserve the right to decide which one I'll use. And don't worry, if nobody sees this or wants to set a topic, I have a backup.

Baron


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