Story Reviews » SA Reviews: Round 143 · 2:26am Dec 30th, 2018
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The Endless Labyrinths of the SA Compound are host to a lot of strange things. Monsters, ghosts, office cubicles that go on for a mile, strip malls. And of course, the omnipresent Reviews, which must be places in the Questing Box which appears randomly to haunt you like that skull from Diaries of Spaceport Janitor. It also sometimes goes NYEH in your face like that skull.
NYEH said the Box.
“Um.” Heartshine nervously fussed with her mane. “Um, uh. Shouldn’t we, ah, do the thing? You know? The reviewing? The thing with the words?”
Inside of the changing booth, Cynewulf was incredibly busy. A skirt went flying like a beleagured parachute over the top of the door and fell like an awkwardly shaped leaf down in front of poor Heartshine.
“BUSY!” Cynewulf yelled, not really needing to yell but deciding to.
It wasn’t every day that you found a massive strip mall in the unknowable mazes full of clothes brand new and well fitting. She intended to take advantage of this. Also, reviews required Effort, and she had a serious allergic reaction to Effort.
NYEH.
“It gets mad when you say that,” Heartshine whined.
“It can eat it’s own butt! It’s not the boss of me! Can’t make me what to do!”
N Y E H.
“It’s like, hungry. Please? We can go right back to--”
“CANT MAKE ME WHAT TO DO. Also, we always get teleported afterwards. Gimme just… argh, can you help me with this zipper?”
“Okay,” Heartshine said, and sighed. She opened the door and assisted.
But as she zipped up Cynewulf’s dress, the Box made its move. There, on the little bench, was a stack of reviews waiting to be devoured. It’s purpose, set in place by strange and laughing Gods shaped like what Ferrets would be like if they were from Seattle, could not be circumvented. It pounced and the reviews were swiftly devoured as the two reviewers fled the changing stall.
ROUND ##
A young thestral stallion, an older zebra mare, and a night of hedonistic enjoyment among the sleeping dead. But when one of those long departed proves to be very much awake, things get more exciting than either had expected.
]Ever been to an old cemetary, like a real old one? Best in North America are all in New Orleans, fo my money. Walking by the vast, ostentatious mausoleums of the restful (restless?) dead fills one with the haunted spirit of the city at the edge of the world as it were. I couldn’t help but think about New Orleans reading this story.
The plot is simple, and the action is reminiscent of a thousand ghost stories. The interesting twist here is the Zebra character and her read on things. There’s also something to be said for the fittingness of two of society’s marginalized finding peace of a sort (and also danger) in the marginal zones of the society they inhabit. The wild woods, the cemeteries, the catacombs, the badlands have always been places of meeting and business for those not in society’s main stream. SPark does a wonderful job of establishing two very different moods and then blending them--both the SoL mundanity and cuteness of a picnic date and the whispering threat of the restless dead. All in all, a wonderful bit of fiction.
Ooo! I love ghost stories! Reminds me of silly things that my friends and I used to do in college when we were bored and trying to find all the supposedly haunted spots on campus. Or wandering through a graveyard near (appropriately named) Salem, Michigan at midnight on Halloween sharing spooky stories.
Honestly, I think what I liked most about this story was the series of interesting juxtapositions of the two characters, the picnic in the graveyard, and the fact that not all is as it appears on the surface. This story likes to place the Slice of Life feel of a date between two creatures trying to get to know each other with the danger sensed by the zebra character. Her perspective on things is refreshing, as is the utterly bottomless well of energy that we get from her thestral date. It’s a really cute, but exciting story!
STORY 2
Anytime, by Super Trampoline
The war's over and your fiancé is back. Your once dead town is showing signs of life again. But you feel more muted than ever. Only one thing is there for you, anytime at all.
Super Trampoline is a shitposter. It’s what he does. It’s in his soul. He’s also an artist. These don’t neccessarily work well together.
But sometimes, the artist wrestles the shitposter and they either have synthesis or the artist wins. This is a time the artist wins. “Anytime” is the second of a mournful little duology. Both are short character sketches of ponies deep in the throes of their own established sorrows.
This story and its partner are a good example of Tramp’s penchant for channeling his own struggles with general despair. It is not necessary for an artist to Suffer Greatly to Create Greatly, but occasionally it helps. The feeling of others all around you seeing your disease, your illness, your mood… it can be stifling. Like shackles loose around the legs, you can move but its always there jangling. That’s the feeling here.
However unschooled Tramp can be sometimes, he’s sometimes got that strange spark of genuine genius. This story feels like finding some really great folk artist. You can see how a bit of training would improve this or that, but you also… don’t want that to happen, because part of what makes it a great experience is the roughness, the honesty of it.
To be honest, normally I’m not fond of second person stories. But I’m going to make an exception for this one.
Super Trampoline sets the tone of recovery in the light of tragedy with this story, and gives us an interesting take on the long term costs of war on those left behind. Sort of. I think the reason this hit so close to home for me is that I’ve watched people struggle with the issues that the MC (you) deals with, and it’s all set to this persistent backdrop of the idea that things are becoming bright and beautiful again at home, yet… you feel mute. You feel numb. That there’s a disconnect there, and that life is passing you by.
For second person stories to work, it has to draw you, the reader in. And this story does. You’re left wondering why something that should make a person happy doesn’t. At the end, you realise why, and it left me feeling just a bit muted and numb as well.
There's a certain word for love built for somepony in secrecy; it's called naivety. Once this point is reached, lessons are learned the hard way and sorrow flows like a river. Rainbow, like always, is the hardest to fall.
You know what sucks? Being rejected romantically. Know what also sucks? Most stories about that experience.
It’s hard to capture it because its very raw, but also because we often lose our cleverness when confronted by something so deeply cutting to our Ego. Try being witty when someone is pointing out that you’re the size of Mac truck, and you’ll see what I mean. (For the record, saying you’ll flatten them like one is not the best come back! But it can be serviceable if you can, in fact, do so.)
But it’s a part of the Human Experience, and as such it deserves to be explored. What I like about this particular exploration is that it neatly sidesteps some of the usual pitfalls and delivers an honest, if by neccessity somewhat truncated, account of what romantic rejection is like. There’s no “nice guys finish last” whinging or insistence that the Beloved is in fact somehow Bad or Wronging You in their refusal to accept and return your feelings. There’s injury, but there’s none of the assinine behavior far too many of us have. Rainbow is processing and readjusting her image of herself, of her life, and her prospects. Her answer is incomplete, but its perhaps a beginning. Worth the read if you want Sads.
Okay, so hear me out on this one: it’s really good. Sorren’s attention to details in how Rainbow Dash might process her own feelings is astounding, and it’s a lot of fun reading through the innocent, childish metaphors Rainbow uses to describe what she’s going through. And it could just be me enjoying watching a rather sensitive side of Rainbow deal with rejection. Which is a feeling that is extremely relatable for a lot of people.
Sorren does a lovely job of following Rainbow through the ups and downs and loop-de-loops of emotions that come from trying your best, only to be told ‘no’ by someone you care about. THere’s never an easy way to process that sort of thing, but everything that Rainbow goes through feels a lot more genuine than other pieces I’ve read with similar themes.
I think the other part I love about this story is the message at the end. I’ll not spoil it, but it’s worth getting there.
STORY 4
Melody, by Pseudo-Nym
An old pony answers why she sings.
I’m a sucker for soft character studies. It’s very much my jam.
I think this one does a decent job of it. I’ve always felt that a good soft, character study/study in mood should really embody the spirit of its subject. If you are talking summer you should feel the sun on your back and hear the cries of kids free from the school day. If we’re on the edge of the world under ten thousand burning stars, then I better feel the constant singing awe.
So I’m glad to see some lyricism here, as we are talking about music and one mare’s relationship to it. That’s all you need for a story, imo, and Psuedo does a good job here. Props.
Music! Check. Feels! Check. Beautifully written, well done interview-style format that makes the entire piece come together in a lovely way? Check, check, and check!
Psuedo_Nym paints a beautiful picture of a mare giving an interview to a crowd about why she loves music, and the reasons why she sings, even though she feels she isn’t very good at it. What impressed me about this story was how delicately the author manages to handle the topic. There are many moments where you can almost forget who the speaker is (which is tragically spoiled by the tags) in lieu of just feeling like you are listening to someone tell their story.
There’s also a dreamy, lyrical feel to the prose of this story that really helps set the tone that the old mare in the story is in fact, old. Like she’s been around long enough that memories are a little hazy, but the songs themselves haven’t changed in years. Or centuries. Or millenia. If you love music, and listening to a unique take on Celestia and Luna’s relationship, this one is well worth the read.
“I don’t think I like the box,” Heartshine said, glaring at the box. It was making less Nyeh sounds now that the reviews were done, but it had said things while the reviews were happening. Mean, cruel, and personally concerning things.
“You’re not supposed to like the box. The box is evil. The box is full of lies. And the last time, it didn’t even tell me where the cake was!” Cynewulf replied, delicately biting into a delicious piece of strawberry topped cake.
“Did it really have to say that this dress makes my flanks look fat?”
Cynewulf shrugged.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Heart. The Agency doesn’t like to discuss the hows and whys and whats and the hecks of HQ. Do that enough, and you end up like Intern.”
Heartshine frowned. She was pretty sure she didn’t want an office that was full of mops and brooms. Plus she was still puzzled about why the human word for Intern’s office was the pony word for “janitorial.”
“I guess you’re right. And… yeah, we probably should take advantage of things here when we can find them!” she replied, biting into a strawberry and cream cheese crêpe. “Ooo! This is yummy.”
“Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, kid,” Cynewulf said with a whistful sigh. “You never know when you’re going to have to be writing reviews while running from cosmic horrors or unspeakable things that get you covered in glitter.”
Heartshine shrugged.
The box chuckled ominously.
Feel free to visit our group for more information and events, and to offer some recommendations for future rounds. See you all next time!
Delete ... !
Did I help?
Holy broken bbcode, Batman!
Something has gone horribly wrong. D:
Ho boah
Um... I don't think that's what a strip mall is. Still, interesting stories.
4987926 It's just a Super Trampoline fic, PP, don't be mean.
4987921 You always do!
4987924 Nothing happens in the Batcave that others can see.
Thanks for the feature!
Anytime was, and is, a winner.
Glitter is evil in and of itself.
Whoa. When someone digs up your story from 5 years ago and you get broadsided with a major blast from the past. I am both flattered and surprised.
why ya'll still writin' them horse stories