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I certainly do remember the game (even it 8-bit Atari version ) but not the box. Was it like Schizm big?

I think so, yeah Although I got a Schizm/Reah bundle. But AD was their biggest game at the time, and probably the most spectacular thing made in our neck of the woods -- so I'm not surprised they tried to sell it BIG! That intro blew me away back then (especially the early trailer with Blade Runner end theme). The graphics didn't age well at all, but back in 1996... it was something. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for good retro CGI

[Best Character: Sinitrena.]

Oh, the impossible choices...!

Best Character: Sinitrena. Chaotic tricksters such as the god of liars are always fun (he reminds me of Low Key from "American Gods"), but the prize goes to Claissa -- who's a strong, selfless character who does what it takes to help her loved ones. It's interesting how both our stories feature female leads who start off as the underdogs of the society and make their way up. Yours feels more... honest, I guess... in the way that Your story is a straightforward one, whereas I thrive on comical exaggeration and grotesque.
Best Plot: Sinitrena. I like how the story is actually more than a direct way to the discovery, and instead weaves a whole story around emotions, only slowly leading up to the ice trading business -- and how it doesn't end when the first transaction is made. Using the saw to cut the brother's leg in the end was a NICE touch!
Best Atmosphere: Sinitrena. There was drama, there was emotion -- and then there were those calmer moments as the gods watched the humans with a sense of cool detachment, as if life were a game, where rules are more important than people.
Best Setting: Sinitrena. Not really a fan of medieval (?) fiction, and I especially seem to be alergic to royalty, but bringing Greek-style deities, who interact and meddle with human affairs, into the mix definitely spiced things up.
Best Word Choice/Style: Sinitrena. There were a few terms that seemed too technical for this kind of story, but overall it was a very pleasant and smooth read.
Cleverest Business Idea of Yore: Sinitrena. I'm a sucker for ice-cream, so if I were a wealthy count, you'd surely make some money off of me

5,25" is not hipsterish enough anymore! Punch cards -- now THAT would be something

As luck would have it, Indiana Jones was of my first PC games -- but I got Fate of Atlantis (full talkie on CD) as an OEM version bundled with my sound card. The first boxed games I got were Little Big Adventure and All New World of Lemmings. But the biggest box I've ever seen was for AD 2044 (anyone know/remember that one?)

great!
now someone please mix snake or tetris in there!
highscore:172.

Or sudokoku? And Candy Crush!

Encouraged by the deadline extension -- and struck by wild inspiration -- I concocted this primeval story of how (and why!) humanity adopted clothing. The idea originated from this:



The inventor didn't monetize on their invention -- because money hadn't been invented yet. Also, as it often happens, the name behind the idea fades into obscurity. Which doesn't belittle their achievement one bit!

FAIR WARNING: The story revolves around human reproductive behaviors -- and contains references to seduction, violence, coitus and marital infidelity. No graphic descriptions thereof. I've decided to save my inner E.L.James for novels that I shall write under a pseudonym in the effort to monetize on the trend

Aaaanyway, here is...

LinGRRRRie

by Fitz

A woman crouched naked in a puddle of clotted blood. It covered half her face and her arms -- all the way up to her elbows. Her teeth were pink with the foam of saliva and gore. But her eyes remained gray and lifeless, as she half-heartedly suckled on a broken-off piece of a bone. Her tongue probed her teeth in the desperate search of some stray chunk of meat -- alas, to no avail. She'd already picked out and chowed down on every last morsel of flesh -- what little of it others have left her. Small, useless bones and lesser organs -- equally disgusting to the eyes, the nose and then the tongue. Almost impossible to chew through. She was almost grateful there wasn't much of it. At the very least, she stopped dreaming of anything more. Better chunks were reserved for the more worthy. The chief got the heart. The shaman was treated to the gray pudding of the brain, served in a skullcap -- which, having no teeth to chew it with, he drank through a hollow bone. The hunters feasted on the legs and breasts. The pregnant women ate the rump. The little ones were fed the tongue. They took turns at the dining circle, the meals stretching out over the afternoon and well into the evening. All the while, she sat nearby and watched and listened -- and never dared to move in until all of them were done: the chief, the shaman, the hunters, the women, the babes...
She rocked back and forth on her heels, diligently licking and suckling her bloodied fingers clean -- pondering on her misery. She was the last in the pecking order; the single lowliest member of her tribe -- with no ties to anyone else. No one to call a friend. No family. None that would admit it, at least. No offspring of her own, either -- for no man would ever look at her. Oh, beauty was not in abundance in her tribe -- or any other she knew. There was plenty of gap-toothed, shaggy, dag-haired hunchbacks -- with crooked legs and assymmetrical breasts. Still, most found men indifferent or desperate enough to impregnate them at some point. Degenerate beta-males that would pounce on anything that moves.
Well, with one exception, maybe: her...
Hubba-Hubba was not merely an ugly woman. Not just the ghastliest human being. She was the oddest creature alive -- more bizarre by the hour, as her malnourished body withered and cracked. Her very sight made children cry -- and more than once killed a faint-hearted little bird. No predator would eat her. Not lions, not tigers. Not even hyenas! Fire itself -- which is not famous for its refined taste -- scorned her when the tribe decided to burn her at stake (the shaman actually invented human sacrifice with her in mind!). The sun has never seen anything like her. The sea -- the depths of which gave birth to most unsightly beasties -- would retreat in horror if she ever came near it. And so she led a life of a bottom feeder. The timid roach, living off of scraps scorned by everyone else -- and retreating back into the shadows as soon as she was done. The silent toad, shying away from any form of attention -- for ridicule was frequent, and violence was a close second. If she ever experienced anything close to pity, it was utter indifference. Affection, in any case, was not for the likes of her (and if you ever called her anyone's equal -- they'd crack your skull open with the nearest available heavy object and spit inside).
Her nakedness exposed every flaw in her crooked body -- only adding to her general misery. Nudity, mind you, wasn't an outcome of rejection and poverty. It wasn't her stigma.  It was merely a sign of times. Times long ago -- when the sun shone brighter and man was too dim to feel shame. Everyone walked through life the way they came into it: naked. With only single tufts of hair here and there -- looking less like an actual evolutionary strategy and more of a cruel joke -- they ran around bare-assed, curious bits dangling and bouncing with every move. Even more curiously, they'd take pride in those protruding organs: the bigger and more uncomfortable the better! Mammary glands seemed to be of special significance. A pair of big, round honka honkas guaranteed its proud owner a chance at reproduction. It is noteworthy that roundness seemed secondary to size -- and symmetry came third. In any case, curves were the point of interest -- not only in breats, but hips alike. The wider, the better!
The bottom line was: size mattered -- but the actuality of it was more nuanced...
Hubba Hubba had it all. Huge breasts. Wide hips. It seemed, however, that there's a certain threshold, beyond which whatever was good in moderate amounts begins to seem like too much. She was the embodiment of excess. Her breasts grew so big that they were more cylindrical than they were round. Instead of bouncing within an average man's line of sight, they dangled around her ankles. Her hips were so wide -- and her uterus so big -- you could use it as a mastodon trap. It had its own echo, even! And so, men avoided Hubba Hubba, whether out of disgust -- or fear. Men who -- during the weeks of hunting away from their women -- wouldn't scorn a goat! Or a turtle! She looked at what little, was left of the boar -- and it was with grim jealousy, because even the puddle of blood and scraps of hide looked better than her.
And then she got an idea...

***

"Hubba Hubba...", a raspy voice right behind her called her name.
She'd never heard it uttered in such a way before -- not that they call her by her name much in all her life. In any case, there was no jeering it it. No aggression. It was heavy, deep and resounding... The sounds rolled off the tongue lazily, carried by a slow stream of warm air. She froze, startled by the newness of the experience -- and then flushed from head to toe as the airwaves caressed her skin, raising the hair on her arms.
Then came a sharp pang of pain.
A forcefull blow to the back of her head knocked her over -- but not out. She fell to the ground, but remained conscious -- if only to savor the experience. The hand tugging at her hair, dragging her body through gravel. Sharp rocks dug into her skin, scratching and drawing blood -- but stunned as she was by the blow, and further sedated by the sheer joy, she felt nothing. Nothing but happiness!
The dream was coming true!
The man -- one of the hunters -- brought her to the cozy retreat of a small cave, where without further ado he proceeded to do what nature intended. He performed his duty of ensuring the continuity of the species -- with a wild passion! Most men are driven by instinct: a crude response to simple, subliminal stimuli, resulting in purely mechanical routines. He, however, enjoyed the act -- and carried out his part in it with enthusiasm. He kept repeating her name, over and over again.
Even after he kicked her out of the cave (another involuntary impulse imprinted by nature) he hummed to himself: Hubba Hubba...

***

"Hubba Hubba...", murmured the chief.
She lost count of her suitors already -- but still found this new situation too much to take in. It was astounding. Men wanted her! Not just the sleazy betas. The hunters! Veteran warriors! The chief himself shunned his wives and focused all efforts on her. Repeated efforts -- and quite frequent, at that! They couldn't resist her. They, the strongest of men! And yet all the while, none of them ever looked her in the eye.
Nor did they ever so much as try to undress her.
She was the dream -- and what you need to know about dreams is that they're a delicate thing. It doesn't take much for them to just fade away. Poof! Snap! Her clothing was what kept it all together -- metaphorically and literally. One strap of boar hide held her breasts, bringing the incredible bulk up and pressing them together, and the other -- wrapped tight around her waist -- gave her hips a nice curvature.
These two improvised pieces of garment suspended the disbelief.
Her breasts were unbelievable -- big and round and perky. Her bottom -- incredible. Or so it seemed, at least. Inside, under the rough piece of fur, the pelvis was crushed and the leg joints -- deformed. That strap of boar hide was all that held them together. But seeing is believing -- and ignorance is bliss -- so none of the lovers dared to peek past the appearances, just as they avoided looking her in the face (which no amount of boar hide could help).
The picture was perfect as long as you squinted or looked only with the corner of your eye.

***

While men to chose to do just that -- there was a group that couldn't look the other way: the other women. The shunned wives and scorned lovers. Mothers of their children -- hungry and angry. Famine (brought about by the men channelling all their energy and efforts in one particular direction) and wrath clouded their judgement -- and so their first instinct was to kill the man-thief. All assassination attempts fell flat, however -- as there was an army of men guarding Hubba Hubba day and night as they waited in line for their turn. So the women gave up -- and went out to gather roots and hunt for small game.
And that's how they got to the root of the problem:
It wasn't Hubba Hubba that men desired. It wasn't even her body. Not all of it, at least. It was just two strategic regions, wrapped tightly in fur. That's all it took to break families and holy vows. Two pieces of hairy animal skin! That's all they needed to get their husbands, fiances and boyfriends back. So they took their men's spears and went hunting...
--and lost all equipment when they accidentally ambushed a rhino...
Through trial and error -- including gruesome mutilations, friendly fire and fatalities -- with bare hands, rocks and simple traps, they managed to catch a few small, sickly rodents. Ferrets. Bunnies. Chinchillas. Guinea pigs. They skinned the wretched furry critters -- and from their hides they fashioned impromptu bras and skirts, much like those made by Hubba Hubba. Only skimpier and more revealing. Their breasts weren't nearly as perky as hers -- nor were their hips as wide and curvaceous.
But it was more than enough.
The men pounced at their women like a horde of starved fleas. Stuck in the mile-long queue for days on end -- their ultimate goal by now a half-goddess, half-myth -- they had steam coming out their ears and were happy to let it off. And so, the line of suitors grew shorter and shorter -- until the last one was gone, lured by his wife's sexy ferret panties. There was no man murming to himself:
"Hubba Hubba..."
And for that Hubba Hubba was thankful...

***

Her new life was over -- and she left it behind her with no regret whatsoever. She got up and -- on legs still numb -- she walked away. She headed for her usual spot, in the shade of an ugly, thunderstruck tree -- and then went past it, out into a world unknown. To find a new place to live; to lead a humble, simple life again. She unstrapped the boar hide from her breasts and her waist -- and threw both away.
She was free aga--
"Hubba Hubba!"
Even though she shunned her bra and skirt, her breasts remained perky and her hips stayed curvy. As if by magic, her body retained its perfect shape. Unfortunately, said magic attracted the resident man of miracles: the old shaman. The old, ooold, wrinkled, ugly, smelly, toothless, boney shaman, whom no other woman wanted. So he took the one last chance he had.
That day in just a few seconds he learned from Hubba Hubba two things that hindu monks would spend their whole lives mastering, tens of thousands years later: the art of levitation and retracting one's genitalia.

***

Hubba Hubba took a sharp rock and sliced the slain cheetah open. She ripped its heart out and ate it, then its liver and kidneys -- the way the highest ranking tribesmen do. She was now her own tribe. The chief. The hunter. The woman. She drank the wild cat's blood and sucked all the marrow out of its bones. Then she skinned it -- leaving the rest of the meat to her fellow creatures of nature. All she took with herself was the skin -- the spotted yellow fur.
She dried it -- and put it on.
Small and slender as the animal was, she barely fit in. It was skin-tight around her arms and legs, and it tore down the torso -- all the way down to the navel -- unable to contain her wild breasts. But it was all she ever wanted. Now, disguised as a deadly predator, she walked on, proudly, knowing that no one would ever distu--
"Mrrrawr!"

***

Like many female enterpreneurs, Hubba Hubba never received due credit for the invention of pigini (which -- to add insult to injury -- was misspelled as "bikini") and cheetard (an invention stolen by one Leo Tard). But even to this day her name is summoned every day -- as the patron saint of attraction -- by men across the globe.
Another forgotten enterpreneur that this story wishes to remind you of is the inventor of catcalls -- a certain old, unyielding shaman.

See, the problem is most of us tend to judge a game not for what it is in itself, but what we've come to expect from it. Incidentally, the Max Payne franchise fell victim to that more than once. The first installment was born in pains over the course of several years -- but I think the end result blew most people away. When the second game hit the shelves only 2 years later, it was widely booed for the gameplay time, which someone estimated at 8 hours or so. I never thought of it that way. Yes, while the first one did seem longer to me, it might've only been because I played it at a friend's place, whom I only visited in the weekends, and so it took me a couple of weeks to finish. But MP2 felt just right as it was. I didn't feel like it lacked anything. If anything, it was more coherent and stylish -- it had some trippy parts, but it didn't go all out crazy, dabbling in some weird nordic voodoo like MP1 did I love both games equally, treating each as an individual piece with its own flavor -- and I don't think any less of MP3. Not sure if you remember, but ever since they announced it was in the making, it's been taking quite a beating for their plan to leave New York and move the story to Sao Paulo. I remember having my doubts, too. But when I finally got to play it, years later, I loved my trip through the favelas. But it seems the game bombed. Not sure whether it was the general high expectations -- or the audience's dissatisfaction with the story's departure from the dark and gritty NYC (which still gets a whole playable chapter all to itself). And I already pity the poor makers of Far Cry 4! I hear they went for some wintery setting this time -- and haters are hating already! It's obvious you can't satisfy everyone -- and the more you try, the greater the chance that everyone's going to hate it anyway for being too bland, too casual-friendly or whatever. I don't know what category I fit into. I'm the kind that gets a game, races through it like a maniac, killing, collecting, destroying -- and then goes on about his life without playing another for months... until a new discount hits Steam Which would make me a casual -- but I despise the term I'm a pro... with butter fingers

A lot depends on whether you play the game just to finish and be done with it -- or because you enjoy playing it. I often find myself storming through a game. It's especially true of those more linear games, where the level starts at point A and you have to reach B, C and accomplish goal D and E along the way -- and then the game takes you to another location, where your goal is clear, your path leads onwards, with no forks in it, and the there's not much else to do other than killing people. Consider Max Payne or Hitman. Both took me only around 10-15 hours to finish the first time around -- including the slow discovery of the game mechanics and the multiple deaths resulting repeating portions of the game. But both were fun in their own ways. The Max Payne series has the iconic bullet-time mode, which made it one of the most enjoyable franchises in gaming history. Hitman, in turn, lets you pick between different gameplay styles: you can blast your way through the location, killing everything that moves, or you can sneak your way through to the only person you need to eliminate. So while both games were a rather short -- if very intense -- experience, there's a high replayability factor. Played MP3 three times already -- mostly for the sheer fun of shooting, but each time I also got more and more of what NPC's were saying in Portuguese (which I only learned a little). Hitman I will play again, too. I remember spending more time in Hitman 2's demo, back in 2002, than I did on Absolution -- just having fun completing the mansion level in every way possible.
For me a large part of the enjoyment stems from having fun with the game mechanics: bullet-time, changing clothes -- or, say, the grappling hook in Just Cause 2. Which, btw, happens to be the biggest time sink of all games that I played, at 204 hours -- having completed 99,95% (which is as high a score you can achieve, due to some bugs and programming faults) and finished the story campaign/faction missions twice. This is a good example of a game that's both marvelous and essentially flawed. It has by far the biggest fully explorable area of all games I played -- available from the very beginning -- with forests, meadows, deserts, mountains, villages and cities, all of which are pure eye candy. It has the dynamic daytime cycle, a multitude of easter eggs -- and the grappling hook, which REALLY makes your life easier. But it has its flaws, too. The enemy AI is laughable. The story itself is even dumber. The voice acting is bad. But you learn to love these flaws. You have fun pissing off the goofball soldiers -- who will chase you with such zest that they'll kill each other or themselves in the process. Car chases are especially fun in that respect: I once saw a military jeep drive off a cliff at full speed when he missed the bridge. At some point you stop questioning the story and just roll with it: be it teleporting ninjas, tanks on top of a sky-scraper or what have you. But then there's lazy design. Most of the 200+ settlements/bases that you have to destroy and pick clean are a baaaad example of copy/paste -- and so are the base takeover missions. A fun game, always a pleasure to look at -- but a large part of it is completely artificially bloated. I think it's that part that may leave a player a bit cheated. It's when you spend a lot of time and energy on something that amounts to nothing (is that's even a valid complaint when playing a game?). Another example that comes to mind is Far Cry 3 -- where there's a whole story arc that feels completely and utterly redundant, and happens to be the most annoying part of the game. So there's this guy who promises to give you a break if you get him this one thing... and this other thing... and then that other thing! After hours of blood, sweat and cursing your lungs out, you get him everything he wants -- upon which he decides he'll kill you. So you kill him, instead. As if you couldn't do that in the first place. Again, overall a fun game -- with a lot of little things to do in your spare time that seem consistent with the story and expand the gameplay (such as collecting plants for health boosts and skinning animals to craft bigger pouches) -- but it spends too much time trying to create adversaries more wicked than Vaas.
Bioshock: Infinite is another game guilty of having way too many crazed, murderous arch-villains -- but while that just fits in with the story, in the end, I was bitterly disappointed with the game mechanics. The pre-release materials made me so excited about the floating, sky-borne islands and the rifts. In the actual game, however, travelling between parts of the city was completely linear, and the rifts' usefulness was usually limited to summoning an automatic gun or a hook from another timeline. The sky-lines were a bit handy -- but way too confusing at times. Also, what seemed like an actual living world, with regular people passing you by in the beginning, turned into one endless battlezone in the end, with some annoying bullet-sponges -- which is another thing I really don't like. I just... don't enjoy dying in games I like games that throw cannon fodder at me -- not make ME the cannon fodder for The Patriot I guess my issue with games today is that even the EASY/CASUAL difficulty level is never easy ENOUGH . I went through most of the 90's and early 00's games with my Godmode on if available -- just to kick ass and have fun. And the most fun I had was playing the good ol' Painkiller (Godmode, of course).
I guess what I meant to say -- in way too many words -- is that when I finish a game and I'm not utterly sick of it in every way, then it's a game I'm happy with, regardless of the length. And so, while I have/plan to replay Max Payne and Hitman, and I'll certainly hang around the islands in Far Cry 3 and Just Cause 2, some games were a one-time thing -- if only because they were too hard-core for me. I might be in the minority, but I play games to relieve the tension, not to get more of it. They're supposed to be an escape from the problems and frustrations of every day, not another source thereof. And the best way to make sure you don't overpay -- in my experience -- is waiting a bit till the prices go down or there's a discount I got most of my AAA titles for 10$ each or less.

I checked KS this morning, shortly after it hit the 45K mark -- but thought I'd wait for you to see and share the big news! Congrats, well deserved! Now do that time-bending magic you've been talking about and give us the game NOW!

the rest of the cast should be made up of Scandanacian actors and actresses with completely unpronounceable names.

Dibs on Mads Mikkelsen!

As for movies, I'm thinking of ThreeOhFour's games, PISS in particular. Something expanding on the lore would be nice. Barely Floating comes to mind, too, with David Lynch directing. And I can't be the only one who wants to see a Nancy the Cordial Courtesan movie.

[MY ONCE FAVORITE CUP SMASHED TO SMITHEREENS]

Baron, I would've... like... HATED to read that -- which was, like, the point of the contest I also thought the easiest theme to go for would've been the supernatural romance: a girl in love with a zombie, because he wants her for her brains, or some such

Janos, don't underestimate yourself, you're doing fine. Besides, for half the people here -- if not more -- English isn't their first language, and we still manage somehow And as far as I'm concerned, you can write in Portuguese (you're Brazilian, right?).

Oh, and this week's special award of MY ONCE FAVORITE CUP SMASHED TO SMITHEREENS goes to.... Carter Bays and Craig Thomas for the horrid, morbid finale of How I Met Your Mother!

[Best Character:]

I think the easiest thing to do would be eeny-meeny I just couldn't single-handedly decide: this one or this one. Buuut the most reasonable thing would be in fact for me to cast a regular vote in all six cathegories -- and give recognition to all stories.

And so, here goes:

Best Character: Janosbiro - I loved the twisted, yet very dry and oddly practical logics of the character. Roland Topor's style comest to mind.
Best Plot: Ponch - although the setting was borrowed, the story was weaved around what a plot point in the game that you found unrealistic. And so, you resolved the issue in a way that feels very much in line with the tone of the Last of Us.
Best Atmosphere: Baron - between the tension of warfare, the shy attempts at comedic relief among the soldiers themselves, the religious motivational speeches, and a crazed berserker fighting to the last drop, this was quite thrilling, all the way.
Best Setting: Baron - though the story doesn't specify the place nor describe it in much detail -- I love the thought that went into constructing the cult of the Invincibles, and how in helping him in the battle (by augmenting his body with replacement parts of metal, no less) they turn out to be more effective than your usual deities
Best Word Choice/Style: Ponch - The narrative, conveyed in first person by a little girl hardened by circumstances -- and yet capable of some humor. The appeal to mammary glands to accelerate their development was what won me over.
Not My Cup of Tea, Either, BUT: Sinitrena - of all stories this was not in the least my cup of tea. But that's exactly what the contest was about! It did feel as awkward as a teen romance/cautionary tale should for us, seasoned artistes

And so, with 11 votes, the winner iiiiiis...

BARON

Ascend to the stage, so that I may present you with the trophy:

[imgzoom]http://imageshack.com/a/img594/2662/zti.gif[/imgzoom]
NOT MY BLUE CUP

Wear it proudly as you prepare the ground for the next

FORTNIGHTLY WRITING COMMPETITION

Thanks for participating, everyone -- and kudos for taking up this challenge! I really tried my worst to puzzle and alienate as many people as I could -- and yet you made it, producing a very diverse bunch of stories

Oh, I'm completely torn here -- one's pretty much my cup of tea and one's exactly what the contest was about: producing a piece that makes me feel as awkward as the writer did when writing. So I'm at a loss. If two or more votes are cast, the winner will be announced with or without my vote in order to achieve and odd number.

[Looks like we have... A TIE!]

Attention, contestants and voters:

Looks like we have... A TIE!

Both Sinitrena and Baron got 9 votes.

Shall we have another round of voting to choose the winner from among the two? Or is it usually decided in some other way?

The stakes are high, for the one that emerges victorious shall claim this fortnight's trophy:

[imgzoom]http://imageshack.com/a/img594/2662/zti.gif[/imgzoom]
THE NOT BLUE CUP!!!

I've seen the same thing happen in one Let's Play of my game (not TFeldt's, his was perfect) -- the intro sequence went completely out of sync, with the music going at its usual pace and the visuals plodding on at a much slower speed. At one point, the music stopped as the track ended, and the scene went on for another few seconds. It was a pain to watch. I thought it might've been the video capturing software, or the user tampering with the speed settings -- but the game speed in the LP was inconsistent throughout the whole game, sometimes slower than intended, and sometimes faster, actually.

[Ponch:]

Alrighty then! It's voting time!

Our four contestants this time, in order of entry, are:

Ponch: The Words He Spoke
Sinitrena: Emily
Janosbiro: A Bad Joke
Baron: Quest for Ascension

Voting will be by category.  I'm not sure, since we got more participants than last time, but just to be safe, you can only vote once per category, for a total of six votes.  The categories are:

Best Character: You find one or several characters extra believable/captivating/magnetic/unique, etc.
Best Plot: The story arc was well-organized, coherent, and well-executed with appropriate pacing; basically the best story.
Best Atmosphere: This is all about feeling: did the story evoke strong feelings due to excitement/humour/intrigue/wonder/emotional intensity?
Best Setting: The best background world or milieu for a story; a place brought to life.
Best Word Choice/Style: The technical art of combining words in clever or gripping ways.
Not My Cup of Tea, Either, BUT... : Did any of the stories feel oddly compelling while representing a genre you either don't care about or don't like?

Every vote counts as one point. Whoever recieves most points wins. Voting is open untill Tuesday, April 1, midnight PST. Trophies shall be carved in liquid crystals by then.

All right! We have three entries -- and awaiting a fourth, by Baron. We have roughly around 15 hours to go, but if you -- or anyone else -- needs any more time, I'm sure we can extend the deadline. Thanks to everyone participating!

Congrats, Ponch! I'm yet to read the story, myself - but rest assured it seems perfectly in line with the rules of the competition. As you say, it's your first venture into fan fiction -- and that's exactly what it's about: getting away from your comfort zone, in any shape or form.

I would definitely love to play The Last of Us -- but I don't have a PS3, sadly. If they ever port it to pc, though, I will pounce on it like a starved ferret -- especially after seeing this documentary about the making of the game. The ideas and the attention to visual details just blew me away.

Chance Of The Dead spread all the way to Poland, actually, which surprised me a lot.

Hey, it's not like we're the end of the world Reviews of AGS games pop up here and there every once in a while -- though I only know one adventure-centric site that features them on a regular basis. Big commercial titles -- such as Primordia or Resonance -- even got coverage in the mainstream game sites, but there was no mention of AGS as a program or a community, and so the general awareness of AGS in our game media is rather poor.

Greetings, fellow wordsmiths and keymashers! The time has come for another

Fortnightly Writing Competition

NOT MY BLUE CUP OF TEA

We love written word. We love writing -- and reading. We have our favorite books -- and those we didn't like. Or hated. Or just didn't care about. Was it the genre that didn't meet your taste? Was it the style? Did the topic make you cringe -- or did the main protagonist cause you to fume with anger? Or maybe you just yawned your way through the book, happy to throw it away in the end (or conveniently "lost it" -- in a trash can -- like a very practical friend of mine once did)?

The challenge: try to re-create that feeling for us, the readers. Anger. Nausea. Nothing. Write a story about a topic that makes you sick -- and own it! Write it like you mean it. Throw your preferences out the window and try your best to become the next Stephenie Meyer. Write a first-person narrative featuring the most annoying character imaginable -- and rather than creating a conscious parody, try to actually make them as real and convincing as you can. Explore the character, try to understand and explain their motivations. You don't have to believe any of it, yourself. The ultimate goal is to make us, the readers, believe it -- and hate it just like you did

You have time till midnight PST, March 28. GO!

OK, I went ahead and created a new topic for the next Fortnightly. Feel free to lock this one.