Site Post » Reviews! Round 46 · 8:21pm Jun 25th, 2014
Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.
A fresh coat of paint was the first thing ambion had noticed about the Seattle’s Angels’ waiting room. It reeked of it, the stink readily suffocating him when he entered. It looked the same as it did the last time he was called down, but everything seemed a little too perfect, as if it had just been cleaned. He didn’t want to know what kind of mess it was. There were plenty of rumors, and none of them pretty.
He had taken his seat against the far wall without a word. That was twenty minutes ago. The clock ticked louder than anything ambion had ever heard in his life. Except perhaps the beat of his heart. He could practically hear himself sweating, too.
The receptionist behind the window pecked away at its keyboard. ambion couldn’t help but sneak glances at it. He had never seen a red squirrel—or any squirrel, for that matter—use a computer, nor wear an ushanka. He would have taken a picture if not for the circumstance. He checked the clock. Five past four. The room felt steamier than it did a moment ago. He tugged at his collar, eyeing the door. Corejo never ran this late.
ambion idly tapped his foot. He couldn’t help but notice how soft the carpet was. His chair not so much, but he had bigger things to worry about. Like what he’d do if Corejo didn’t show up with those reviews.
He could see the Boss now, towering over him like a monstrous shadow, eyes red like the end of his cigar. He could practically smell the billowing smoke and hear his cracking knuckles upon hearing there were no reviews. Leaping from a fifty-story window sounded like a better alternative to walking through that door. But ambion gulped, knowing very well alexmagnet kept no windows in his office for that very reason. In fact, there were no windows in the entire building, come to think of it—except the one between him and that squirrel.
Which horrifyingly enough was staring right at him.
The little squirrel blinked, the silence of its gaze like a wordless prayer. ambion swore he saw it shake its head in pity. It scratched two more tally marks on a chalk board beside its monitor and resumed typing.
There was a soft whimper from somewhere in the room, and it was after looking around that ambion realized it was he that had made it. He let go of the arms of his chair to see them drenched in sweat, his hands shaking. He knew the door to the waiting room locked from the outside, but wondered just how solid it was. He could make a break for it, hide somewhere on the ninth floor and live off the crumbs that Pav swept off his belly after a well deserved lunch. Or perhaps he could find Professor Plum and possibly learn how he had transformed into an actual plum, and become one with the fruit basket in the staff lounge. He bet he’d make a great-looking plum. Not enough to be eaten, mind, but good enough not to be thought rotten and tossed.
A grin swept across ambion’s face as the plan came together. His heart gave a flutter, and his eyes a glance at the squirrel, who returned it before checking the clock. It bolded the tally marks on its board and began clicking away again.
This was it. He had no other choice. Waiting meant certain death. He could make it.
A few quick breaths to center himself. He dashed.
Mere seconds were all it took to clear the room, but the adrenaline surging through him like a cresting wave seemed to slow time to a crawl. His muscles yearned for the freedom of the outer office space, and his heart beat heavy with the hope. He lowered his shoulder, set his teeth.
The door slammed squarely open in ambion’s face.
“I’m here! I have them!”
ambion lay sprawled out on the floor, head spinning. Just as suddenly he felt the floor leave him and the world right itself as a force pulled tight at his shirt chest. Big blue eyes met him face to face.
“Stop layin’ around, man! We gotta get these to alex before he turns us into fruit.”
The floor again greeted ambion with a face full of carpet. He raised himself slowly, recovering the wind it knocked out of him. He looked up, and it was indeed Corejo staring back “What?” he asked.
Corejo offered him a hand. “The reviews, you dummy. The whole reason we’re here and not dead and stuff?” He helped ambion to his feet.
“No, I mean—”
“Hey, less talkie, more walkie, hmm?” Corejo tapped him on the chest with a document folder, an “are you done yet” smile on his face. He grabbed ambion by the arm and lead him to the receptionist door. The squirrel stared at them as they crossed the room and, never breaking eye contact, scratched into the chalk tally a third time, with feeling.
At that, ambion lost it. He pulled away from Corejo’s grip and made a break for the exit. He grabbed the handle, but found it locked. “No…” A pair of hands grabbed him from behind. “No!” He held onto the door handle for dear life as he was pulled feet first toward certain doom. Tears rolled down his face as he lost his grip and was dragged away from salvation.
“I WANTED TO BE A PLUUUUUUUUM!” he cried as he was dragged across the office door threshold, and it slammed shut behind him.
ROUND 46
STORY 1
Cherry Bomb, by The Rarispy
Pinkie Pie has decided to mount an effort on making the legendary "Chimmicherrychanga" a reality, but when word spreads around town, suddenly everypony is interested in Pinkie's cherry-filled venture for one reason or another. Some see her new creation as a blessing, others wish to destroy it. Sacre bleu, mon cherry.
F**k it, how do I even review something like this? As random fics go it is fun, and holds together with just enough narrative coherence to give it all a plot...even if that plot is on fire and missing three wheels as it races headlong along a cliffside.
Pinkie is in her element here, I must say that, and lends the story credibility in its absurdity. Continuity nods shore up with familiarity what the manic quick-fire of events risks blowing up completely, without exceeding themselves into the realm of awkward and unfavourable redundancy.
The random tag is fully earned, underlined and italicised, but the tone itself ultimately is one of imaginative playfulness. It’s that subtle yet enduring quality that found me warming to this fanfiction more than I had expected myself to, bringing an almost-but-not-quite aimlessness to the whole thing that happy reassurance that there was a point to all of it.
Possibly. Or maybe not.
Random with a side of cute, with a lackadaisical humour as the situation spirals exponentially out of control.
Did somebody order a crackfic? No? Well, you’re in luck. Sort of. And also not. Because this fic kind of is. And also isn’t. But it still kind of is.
Cherry Bomb is one of those stories that hard to place. It definitely smacks of self awareness and stresses visual gags (some of which are pretty ham handed) that push this story well into crack country. (And if you want to think of it as that kind of crack, you still wouldn’t be far from the truth.) But this story still adheres to a rather focused plot, albeit from multiple perspectives.
You see, there’s a fine line between stupid and funny. This fic never treads that line; rather, it stands on Funny’s side of the border and mocks Stupid on the other side of the line as it steps quickly over and then back yelling “nana nana boo boo, you can’t touch me” like that little jerkoff kid in grade school PE playing capture the flag that’s too afraid to do anything unless it’s tagging you on his side of the field. (No repressed memories here. Why do you ask?)
There’s not much to say outside its distinct choice of narrative and story flow, because doing so would spoil what makes this story so much fun. There are a good number of grammatical errors and typos, but they don’t hinder any more than a “wait, what?” which, in all honesty, you’re going to be saying that pretty much the whole time, in between laughs, at the situations everyone gets into.
Overall, it strikes a beautiful balance, if you have the stomach for its flavor of ridiculous. And sex tags. Because Rainbow Dash is a lesbian. You heard it here first, folks: Color Butt likes cherry pies. Or should I say, cherrychangas.
STORY 2
The Striped Pony, by ts_cogwheel
Since meeting Apple Bloom, Twilight, and their friends, Zecora's life has become much more filled with warmth and purpose than it has been ever before. But old patterns of thought are hard to change, and becoming part of a community can seem impossible to a recluse.
Zecora is a great character, and yes, I’m perfectly happy to start this review by stating that. More than most (if not all) there’s this air of mystery about her that fanfiction yearns to fill: just what is her past, just what are her thoughts, just why does she live in the Everfree Forest?
And yet she’s hard to write; some writers take fright. Her couplets are hard to do and no one is blaming you. And we all know that she should be adored: nice stories like this should not be ignored.
Because The Striped Pony isn’t looking backwards, asking those questions about where Zecora comes from. It’s looking forwards, giving us a satisfying look at where she is going.
The Striped Pony is unassuming and pleasant, and really lives up to the Slice of Life genre it’s tagged with. The story isn’t particularly long as of yet, and that length is given to a sedate and unworried procession through the characters’ inner thoughts and Zecora’s changing circumstances, namely how she is taking to finding herself closer to Ponyville citizenry than she ever expected herself to be before. The dialogue does it’s best so that they’re comfortable, but it’s the thought and feeling behind and how they’re used in interaction that what really shines. All the characters that find themselves in the focus are given an equally relaxed, confident treatment and it really makes for a pleasant, casual read that is akin to walking the leaf-strewn byways of woodland. Relaxed is the word I’m stressing here.
It’s actually really episodic in nature, and reads very sweetly, positively nailing its characterizations.
I had a witty intro to this story perfectly transitioned from my review of Cherry Bomb, but ambion had to go be a butt and point out that I was referencing the title of the first chapter, rendering the joke useless in this context. What a jerk, right?
Anyways, Zecora! The best not-pony pony! Who doesn’t love Zecora. Yes, that was a statement and not a question. Because when you say it, it sounds like a question, implying that you don’t know anyone who does. Which is, regardless of what you think, true.
So, Zecora and Apple Bloom. I’ve always liked this pair. They only had a few episodes together, and quite limited screentime at that, but they play well off each other. It’s a pretty standard troublemaker/magnanimous mentor relationship, but enjoyable nonetheless.
This story begins with well deserved (and needed) backdrop, the narrative focusing on Zecora’s past in relation to the present. It often calls back to her homeland, and parallels it with the story proper as it progresses. One thing to note (and I say this with much relief) is that ts_cogwheel indeed made Zecora’s dialogue rhyme. There are a few points where it’s obvious he scraped the bottom of the barrel for couplets, and didn’t remain strictly within a specified meter, but that can be forgiven, what with just how many bits of dialogue she has. (ts bounced back and forth between iambic and anapestic—a small detail, I know, but something to throw out there. I think I read somewhere that Zecora was originally iambic tetrameter, but I haven’t gotten around to checking myself. Besides, the show writers got pretty lax on meter, anyways, so there’s that, too.)
Both characters are distinct in voice and mannerisms. Zecora I just mentioned, buy Apple Bloom comes across as a very solid Apple Bloom. I didn’t like the phonetic spelling of her accent, though. That always feels too up front for me.
Besides Apple Bloom’s accent, I found nothing to dislike about this story. The omniscient point of view is a refreshing break from all the limited perspectives I’ve recently read, and it stays true to sticking with one character before leaping to the next so as to avoid sporadic, disconnected thoughts. It’s a fun read with a solid story. You don’t need more than that to enjoy a look into another’s life.
Discord comes to visit Fluttershy and discovers that she is not alone. The furious God of Chaos considers what to do next. The traditional solution suggests itself, but maybe this would be unwise?
Perhaps he should consult someone wise? Someone he always keeps very close to him? Someone who always gives him good counsel, even if she's just a little bit miffed about that whole silly annihilation of her homeland and murder of her whole family and usurpation of her physical form thing, even though that was over twenty-five hundred years ago?
He fears she still has a grudge against him for all of this. Ponies so often take minor matters of this sort way too seriously ...
There's no other way! He must consult his inner Voice of Reason ...
Hope she's not still too mad at him ...
In fanfiction there are characters that lend themselves to vivid imagery and fantastic settings. Others fling themselves so wholly at it that they burst in a display of colour, shape and sound for the reader. It’ll surprise noone that Discord is, of course, just such a character, and his limits are only the extent of what one can imagine.
What puts Divine Jealousy ahead of several similar fics I encountered is that we get the fireworks and the silliness, but it comes hand in hand (or paw in hoof) with characterization and motivation. Again, this shouldn’t surprise too many people; most stories that take the character even a little bit seriously aim to do this. More to the point: We get both aspects here, and neither suffers for the presence of the other. That’s harder to manage than it sounds, and shows a welcome ability to gel very different components of a story together in a way that doesn’t hamper either.
The world of the story is itself colourful and vivid and as such is well suited to be a reality swirly of pretty colours. Quite a lot of worldbuilding is worked in through the early narrative, much of it borrowed from the PonyPOVverse, as I understand it. I’m not familiar with that source myself, but I can say that I found the story handles the exposition of it - and it is quite interesting, and lively - quite well. In a word, I enjoyed it. Discord’s private pocket dimension especially illustrates just what I mean, where a warped, changing, not-quite-sane, not-quite-human thought process still creates patterns in the chaos that show a perceptible stream of consciousness with memories, values, and conflicts.
Divine Jealousy plays it a little bit darker and a little bit more grown-up than canon. That works well to the story’s advantage, as it opens a broader avenue for the tone and the situations that establish it. It could easily have been overdone but wasn’t, instead giving just enough room in the narrative for characters to stretch out and be developed beyond the bounds of canon.
In summary - Colourful with an edge of darkness, manic with a note of reflective thought and (mostly) driven by relatable emotion, Divine Jealousy and the Voice of Reason well manages to balance superficial comedy and imagery with the substance of plot and conflict.
This is an odd one. My initial impressions of this story weren’t very good. I certainly enjoyed the opening paragraph, as Discord is well represented here, but I didn’t find the rest of that scene very palatable. What was being said was certainly clear and real-ish feeling (how exactly does the Lord of Chaos think inside that head of his?), but it felt out of place, like it had come too soon. Maybe I just wasn’t quite warmed up to the idea of him walking in on Fluttershy and Bulk Biceps. It’s an awkward thing to do (I would know; I’ve done it before), and maybe if we had more establishment of his feelings beforehand things would have gone smoother for me. It needed more build up to give it weight. But in all honesty, the inciting incident isn’t the big draw of this story (nor is it a real drawback).
What I liked about this story is how ridiculous it was while still making sense in a nonsensical way. (Discord’s personal realm and how he toys with it are all spectacular instances of Jordan179’s skill with imagery. He waxes technical at times, to the point where it can weigh on the narrative, but it’s never overbearingly so.) A good bit of the silliness of the story comes out of left field (Pinkie Pie’s first appearance comes strongly to mind), but when the dust settles all the dots are connected how they should be. My main complaint with this, though, is how heavily I had to suspend my disbelief toward the beginning. Nothing made sense (lots of information was thrown at me with no background (again, Pinkie Pie was the culprit)), and that made it all the harder to settle in and appreciate what should have been silliness.
That said, the pieces fall into place, as I was able to around the beginning of the second chapter. Tones shift back and forth as necessary, and feel natural enough. The story itself, once past the non-story feel of chapter one, slowed down to a bearable pace and worked itself out, and I was able to empathize with Discord. Him and all his chaotic greatness.
Jordan179 did a fine job characterizing Discord. From the early interspersed snippets of his recollections through to the end he comes across as both his zany show-self and a darker, more thoughtful and calculating individual. I have to say I like the change of pace from his show characterization. And just where Jordan179 would go with that was definitely something to keep reading for.
STORY 4
Luster, by Azure-Spark
When a couple of ponies stumble across a massive deposit of crystals and gems beneath the Everfree Forest, something doesn't feel quite right. As much as Rarity wants to, Twilight insists they cannot just dig them up and put them on display. They need to be examined and studied just to make sure it's safe. So they both head home empty-hooved, much to Rarity's dismay.
But her mind keeps drifting back. A little visit couldn't hurt, right? She just wants to look, stare into their beauty. Their wonderful, magnificent beauty.
At some point, one crosses the line between curiosity and intrigue, and falls straight into obsession.
Sometimes you just want to meander through the dark, surely? Who doesn’t get that chilling tingle of delectable menace when the foreboding and enigmatic secrets beyond mortal ken bring to you a tale of Lovecraftian cut?
Luster (yes that name is a nigh unforgivable pun, but moving on...) isn’t a paragon of the genre, but it sticks to its guns and for what it set out to do delivers a satisfactory journey into darkness, bringing to bear the tried and true tools of the genre: eldritch influences and the decay of human (read: pony) identity.
Now it’s not without it’s flaws; namely a certain predictability inherent to the plot and a lack of page-space dedicated to Twilight’s character in her supporting role. Rarity makes for a good doomed heroine, and the perspective shift in the second half of the story is one I did find myself warming to. The visual elements of the story are pleasing and at all stages of the story evoke good and fitting imagery for the subject matter.
Marshmallows and rocks. That’s a good combination if you ask me.
Have you ever had an obsession? Like, thought about something so much until it consumes you? It starts off with something simple enough. A little thing that slowly grows out of proportion until it becomes all consuming (i.e. ponies). You don’t notice it’s a big deal until it’s too late? That’s the road this story treads.
I have to preface every first-person story with the fact that I generally dislike first-person narration. Not so much because I don’t like the use of “I” or anything, but because people hardly use it to full effect.
Not so here!
Luster begins simply enough: Rarity’s working, Twilight visits, they go do something. But it’s how they go do the somethings throughout the story that really gets me into this one. Rarity’s voice shines through marvelously. So marvelously, in fact, that it took me a minute to realize that hardly anything was truly being done by the characters—that all the actions and descriptions were displayed through her thoughts, rather than by any such narrative input.
Luster is one of the few first-person stories I’ve read here on Fimfiction to get it right: the limited perspective, the internal voice, and the concentration on the character’s feelings over the world around them. Everything is filtered through Rarity’s head before it reaches the computer screen for us to read. All of it. And every bit of it, down to the last detail, carries a part of her with it, shows us just how everything makes her feel. And it gives so much more depth to her than any fic I’ve read recently.
In short, Luster is a powerful piece of first-person narrative. There’s hardly a flaw to be found in the tone of the narrator, and the pacing is spot on. It grips you in with its distinct and engaging voice and pulls you along for the ride, which, I might add, is just as noteworthy. It never *cough* loses its luster. Yes, that pun was worth it, much like the story itself.
alex sat at his desk, poring over the review folder. He hummed and huffed at different points, but was otherwise silent. He gave a final harrumph that sent his jowels a-tremble, and his meaty paws slapped shut the folder. His cigar he pulled from his lips after a long drag and smothered it dead center on the folder. “You call these reviews?” he said, his exhale like that of a freight train.
ambion’s eyes would have watered from the smoke, if not for the circumstances. Those circumstances being he was now a pear. “We’re sorry, sir! We tried our best!”
“You tried your best,” Corejo whispered.
“I tried my best!” ambion quickly amended.
“If it means anything to you, sir,” Corejo said. “I don’t much enjoy being a plum. And it was all Pav’s fault anyway—you can ask him.”
“Silence!” alex slammed his fists down on the table. His chest heaved in fury, his eyes redder than his cheeks. He took a deep breath to calm himself, straighten his toupée, and cinch up his tie. He returned to his seat with the delicacy of a three-legged elephant.
“As you boys are now well aware, we have a strict timeliness policy. So I’m letting you off with a warning.”
“Heh.” Corejo would have nudged ambion if he still had an elbow. “You hear that? We’re getting off with a warning.”
ambion ignored his comment and focused on alex, trying to clasp together hands that were no longer there. “And we have learned that well, sir, but I don’t understand. If we’re being let go with a warning, then why’d you turn us into fruit?”
“That is the warning,” alexmagnet said with an uncomfortably toothy smile. ambion would have gulped if able.
Corejo whispered to ambion, “I don’t get it. Why’s he smiling?”
“So…” alex continued. “I suggest you two get back out there and keep looking for more stories to post.” He reached for a chain pull just above his shoulder, and his voice darkened. “Or else.”
alex pulled the chain, and the floor beneath Corejo and ambion opened wide. They both screamed as they tumbled down the darkness of the chute. Before he knew it, ambion found himself back in his chair of the Seattle’s Angels’ waiting room. Corejo lay moaning beside him.
“Oh, my pulp,” he said.
Oh, shut up,” ambion snapped at him. “We’re fruit now, we don’t even have nerves any more.”
“This whole fruit thing’s gonna take a while to get used to.”
“Oh, shut up. At least you got to be a plum.”
“There’s always a silver lining, huh?
ambion knew Corejo would have smirked, given lips to do so. The thought made him want to grate his teeth. Which he didn’t have anymore. “Just…” he sighed. “Stop talking.” He had a headache, though unsure sure how. All he knew was that he wanted to go home, relax, and hopefully sleep it all off. He had the morning shift tomorrow, and felt pretty sure he wouldn’t be allowed to call in sick. It would be best just to roll with it, he decided.
And he did. Down the street. All the way home.
Feel free to visit our group for more information and events, and to offer some recommendations for future rounds. See you all next time!
I joined.
After reading Luster I have only one thing to say.
Call in the Dragonborn.
Do you want to know what I mean by that, read It for your self, because I ain't telling you.
*Adds the newly reviewed stories to Read Later list, notices that two of them are Incomplete...*
Has anyone else noticed that the stories featured by this group that are incomplete have a tendency to quietly die, never to be updated again? I mean, there was Ponky's Mantles (he will be missed, I think), TacticalRainboom's The Sixth Age, LunaUsesCaps' A Long Day's Night, Spectre_Crystaleye's Eclipse: House of Frostmane's Few, and Crosswynd's Strive, just to name a few.
Granted, there are a few outliers, (Ether Echoes' Through the Well of Pirene still updates regularly over a year after being featured, and I believe AugieDog's Ponyville & Other Poems is incomplete by design) and while it would be a bit much to suggest any correlation, the pattern so far has just been uncanny.
Have you visited the juicing room yet?
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See, ambion, here I thought your were calling Zecora by a nickname (a la Number One Assistant or Sunbutt), and was left very confused. Quote or italicize that sht so I know what you're talking about!
Fukken sold.
2234791 I thought it was mon cherie...
Wow. I usually just kinda skim over these, but when I saw the notice that this was added by a familiar-ish name... I don't know what to say.
Thank you, for the reviews and the signal boost. Frankly, your timing was fairly nice, as I've been feeling rather unmotivated/uninspired/unproductive/like-a-bad-writer lately.
Zecora can be hard to write, definitely. But I find that's one of the fun parts of having her in a story.
2234085
'Cause there's always:
More poems to write! I'm working on another long set of limericks right now featuring Rainbow and Twilight arguing.
Mike
2234085
In fact, Pirene is about to finish~
Great Celestia! This review has existed for five weeks without me discovering it?
Very fair points of critique. Yes, some of my rhymes could clearly be better, and being an uneducated brute, I have no idea what an anapestic meter is, but I'll look it up and see if I can learn something from it. I never had any sort of training in this sort of thing.
Applebloom's voice has also been a point of conflict for me: Not being a native English speaker, it has been hard to judge how to write out an accent. It has been criticised by others, so I will revisit them.
Thank you for a very nice, positive, and useful review, and I will get this story finished soon.
2343295 "Soon" as in "now".