Site Post » Reviews Round 23 · 2:02pm Jul 15th, 2013
Blackness at first, then... light, muffled, splotchy as their vision slowly returned.
Upon regaining consciousness, the first thing the member’s of Seattle’s Angels noticed was that their limbs were bound, held fast to some sort of metallic object. RedSquirrel was the first to figure out what that object was.
“What the?” He struggled against his bonds, pulling against them but finding only resistance. With a bird-like crane of his neck, RedSquirrel contorted to see the large metal operating table they had been strapped to. He looked to either side and saw Nietzsche and Pilate in varying stages of consciousness, slowly waking from their unneeded nap.
RedSquirrel tried to nudge them, but was unable to move his fingers even an inch. He found his feet similarly constrained. “Hey,” he whispered. “You guys okay?”
Nietzsche groaned in response. Pilate was awake enough to answer, “Barely. What the hell happened?”
Then, startling them into full wakefulness, a voice, deep and gravelly, a bit like John DiMaggio, barked, “Awake are we?”
Had they not been so thoroughly bound, Nietzsche, Pilate, and RedSquirrel surely would’ve spun on their heels to face the mysterious voice. As it was though, they were forced to wait for him to show his face to them. That’s when Pilate noticed it.
Back and forth, like a giant pendulum, a massive blade swung above their heads.
“Ah, I see you’ve found my little present,” the voice said.
“It wasn’t exactly hidden,” Pilate answered.
“Neither is your mother,” the voice countered.
Pilate struggled for words. “I... but...”
Laughter that sounded like puppies being ground in a wood chipper bubbled up. “Nothing?” the voice said sarcastically. “That’s your only response? Mm, you disappoint me, Pilate.”
Pilate’s eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”
“I know all of your names, Nietzsche, Pilate, RedSquirrel, I’m one of you.”
Then he stepped from the shadows, into the harsh fluorescent light that lit the operating table, revealing himself to be none other than Alexmagnet, the most handsome and dashing of all the Seattle’s Angels members.
Nietzsche’s jaw dropped in shock. “You? I saw you sign off Skype!”
Alex laughed that same bloodcurdling, yet surprisingly manly, laugh. “You only thought you saw my sign off. In reality, I only changed my status to offline, to give the appearance that I had left.” He steepled his fingers, drumming them together. “Once I heard that you needed someone to write the intro for you, I knew it was my chance to commandeer this week’s reviews for my own agenda. Oh, you thought you had it all planned out didn’t you? A slice-of-life fic, a comedy, a story about a sailor and Pinkie Pie.” He laughed again. “It was all so perfect. Too bad you will never see your plan come to fruition.” Maniacal laughter echoed off the metal walls and reverberated around the room.
“You’ll never get away with this!” RedSquirrel shouted. “Do you expect us to let you win?”
Alex smiled, his lips curling into a cruel ‘v’. “No, Mr. Squirrel, I expect you to die.”
Pilate rolled his eyes. “Really? A Goldfinger reference? That was the best you could come up with?”
“Oh, shut up... Besides, it was better than the Nick Carter reference I was going to make. No one would’ve got that. Not unless they grew up reading serial pulp from the 70’s.” Alex unsteepled his fingers and stepped forward.
“So,” Nietzsche said, “are you really going to kill us?”
In his normal, less sexy voice, Alex answered, “Nah, this blade isn’t even real.” He flicked it, causing the rubber to wobble like a cheap boob-job. “I just wanted to write something silly for the intro.”
“So you used us as your pawns!” RedSquirrel shouted angrily.
“Oh, calm down. It’s not like anybody else was going to write anything if I didn’t do it,” Alex said, waving his hand flippantly. “I’ve written like a dozen and half of these things already.”
“This is getting pretty meta,” Pilate noted.
“Also, way too long,” Nietzsche added.
“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Let’s just wrap this up, shall we?” He hit a button, and the bindings undid themselves from the reviewers, allowing them to stand. He pointed at a large screen on the opposite wall and said, “Behold!”
The lights on the screen flickered on, revealing...
ROUND 23
Sometimes, I just want my heart to melt. There is no question that the sheer volume of fan fiction leaves open the possibility to find nearly anything you’re looking for on the genre scale. Action, adventure, romance, it’s all there from each heart-stopping sentence to every romanticized sonnet. Oftentimes I find myself sticking to stories of depth, of grandeur, of depth and complexity such that I may savor every last second of minute detail presented and gape in awe at upheavals and threaded twists that I really should have seen coming. Other times, though, that must all be left behind, the brain set to “idle,” and the emotional core that resides deep with our collective rock-solid souls must be activated. Enter, Hot Chocolate.
I have no sufficient evidence for this claim, but it is my anecdotal observation that pure slice-of-life fics such as these are few and far between. I wager this has to do with a few things, most notably their difficulty—to be successful one must have high accuracy when it comes to characterization—and their outwardly uninteresting plot lines. Further, that same sort of emotional connection can be easily achieved by fan art, and much more easily consumed. So it is with great pride that I can point to Hot Chocolate and say that not only does it make you feel great, but it does so in a way that vastly surpasses anything a static visual image can provide.
The writing itself I found somewhat plain, maybe a little over saturated, but unnoticeable on the whole. This, as it happens, is a good thing. The entire premise of your emotional immersion relies upon not stumbling over wordy prose, or tripping on overtly poetic passages meant more to show you how many different ways one can say the same thing than to convey meaning or emotion. In this case, I found myself completely fixated on the interplay between these two sisters and their conundrum. Rarity and Sweetie Belle were nicely characterized, and I found myself pleased with being able to fit a scene such as the one presented right in-between event in canon without any conflicts. The author builds on the relationship we’ve seen develop since season one, and does not sacrifice those gains in order to drum up emotional drama or conflict to work around. My highest praise is exactly this, that there is no macguffin or emotional misunderstanding to drive events. The story is simply heartwarming. On top of that, it accomplishes this while at the same time it continues to captivate the reader; at no point did I find myself bored or ready to skip paragraphs.
This story isn’t long, it isn’t complicated, and there is no death or fiery destruction or deep-rooted emotional baggage bubbling to the surface to drive the story. This story is nice, enjoyable, easy and quick to read, and much like it’s cover image, as warm as two pastel ponies laying by the fire wearing sweaters.
Have you ever actually been snowed in? I know I have not, but I can tell from friends that it is, more often than not, very boring. Fortunately, that's why we have ponies and their lives to stalk peer into when we find ourselves with nothing to do, which is exactly the spot Rarity and Sweetie Belle find themselves in. Thus, they must find ways to entertain themselves before succumbing to utter boredom while Ponyville is snowed in during a freak snowstorm. Now, don't get me wrong. I like slice of life as much as I do slices of cake. But there does come a time when the slice of life is not taken from the exciting corner pieces with all the extra icing, but from deep within the center where the pieces get kind of droopy when they're left alone and you have to really struggle to keep from smashing the whole thing with your fork when you take a bite. This is one of those stories: nothing exciting ever happens, and you struggle to keep yourself from, well, getting as bored as Rarity and Sweetie Belle almost do.
But you know what? There's nothing wrong with that. This slice of life cake is still moist and has plenty of strawberry filling, even if that filling tends to meander and get all over the story plate. But it's as vanilla as you can get: Sweetie Belle and Rarity show some sisterly bonding during a snowy day. Sweetie Belle even admits the most exciting part is drinking hot chocolate at the very beginning. But it goes down easy and leaves a sweet aftertaste, and that's all one can really ask of a story like this. The writing is good, the characterizations well in line with their canon personalities, and the whole thing is like a calm breath of air in the midst of all the grimdark and clop and whatever else we do on this site.
Don't go into this expecting anything more than the sweet, vanilla sensations of sisterly bonding (not in that way). I know I didn't, and I came back out more than satisfied (also not that way).
The author of Hot Chocolate, Portmeirion, is a persistent purveyor of scrumptious slice-of-life sweets. Now, slice-of-life can indicate several different things, depending on who you ask. For some, it means show-style, and this can include such adventurous escapades as the Cutie Mark Crusaders, for instance, could easily get into on an ordinary day on Sweet Apple Acres. However, inasmuch as the slice-of-life and adventure genres are supposed to be, like, contradictory or something, that's an unsatisfying definition. The supposed contradiction becomes reduced to a difference of scale; instead of having big adventures, a character has small adventures, and this is all that the supposed contradiction really consists in.
Another possible intuitive definition of slice-of-life would have it that the genre's defining characteristic is that it has no conflict, or only low-key conflicts. Now, this is absurd. For conflict of some sort drives all stories. "Conflict" is just a word for whatever necessitates a resolution, and resolution is the goal of narratives. So defining a genre as "lacking in conflict" is just the same as defining a bad genre.
Portmeirion, I think, understands slice-of-life in a different way; the way that I think is best. For what is human life really most about? What is ordinary human experience focused on, what does it revolve around, what moves it? My answer is (and Portmeirion's answer seems to be): interpersonal relationships.
A slice of life—a snapshot of ordinary human experience—must first of all take into account the vast riches that human relationships offer us, the subtlety and complexity of a person, the infinite value of someone to share with and to love. For these are the things that are so obvious and constant in our lives that we far too easily take them for granted, and hence sometimes need literature to remind us of them. Now, it seems to me that Hot Chocolate was written in this spirit. For the relationship between Rarity and Sweetie Belle begins and remains at the forefront of the story, and this focus is never lost. Through his excellent characterization, Portmeirion offers us a startlingly plausible glimpse into the world of these two ponies; and, in watching them and in witnessing their relationship, we can perhaps see a reflection of ourselves and our own relations.
To anyone who enjoys fine characterization, I heartily recommend not only Hot Chocolate but Portmeirion's other slice-of-life stories as well.
Initially, I had trouble coming up with something to say about End of a Quest other than “go, read, now.” I am at a severe loss on how to explain it without giving away some of the magic that kept me captivated in the first place. Just know the following: I avoid, with great prejudice, stories that center around Pinkie Pie, and especially ones that have the ever deadly combo of Pinkie Pie and an original character. Quest is nothing but this, and I loved every second of it.
We’ll start with some of the mechanics. The writing is even handed, and even paced. Metaphor is present, even if overt, and story is just on this side of being too short. I take issue, and I believe some of my compatriots have mentioned this, with the characterization of a certain elder sailor. For the sake of brevity, I understand why some more cliché stereotypes were employed, but they could have been avoided while still conveying the sense of displacement that was required. That nitpicking aside, the rest of the story flows wonderfully, spending just enough time on each scene to get the point across without becoming overbearing. The characters feel real, full. Even the more minor players feel like they have a history behind them, a weight that really adds to the interplay in what amounts to only a few shorts scenes.
On that note, one of my favorite things about the story is that it doesn’t overplay Pinkie. I’ve mentioned my disdain for her, and a lot of that boils down to poor characterization from authors. I admit, it’s not easy to write the party pony, but there is a line that must be drawn. Here, though, Pinkie remains true to her canon personality, and the real heart of what being the Element of Laughter is shines through brilliantly. It is not about parties, or being crazy, or breaking the fourth wall, or even copious amounts of baked goods. It is about making other ponies smile, and reading Quest you most certainly will smile.
It's not often that I find a fic about OCs that I like, which makes it all the more special when I do get one. Best of all, this fic combines many of the greatest things: old salty sailors, heady introspective musing, and Pinkie Pie showing a depth of character that some would never take note of.
Though the title could use some work, I don't begrudge the story that given this entire piece is meant to be straightforward, which is no crime. The writing starts out with some deliberately heavy exposition, introducing us to Old Thunder, a name that you really hope the character wasn't gifted with right after birth. The somewhat flat and telly beginning can be forgiven, since it was for a contest and also is a comparatively short one shot (I've been in those time constraints as well and it isn't fun). Apart from this, the writing remains at a quality that keeps you reading and introduces you competently, if not the most poetically, to the characters and the setting. This is a simple tale about Old Thunder wondering what exactly he's going to do with the rest of his life after romping up and down however many seas the pony world has, but it's that straightforwardness that makes the story work and gives it its charm. It earns the slice of life tag through and through, which isn't something you see a slice of life fic do very often, and can only earn this story positive points.
Pinkie Pie, when she shows up to brighten Old Thunder's life with the requisite party and some surprisingly sage advice, is characterized very well. I think the canon show has, on a number of occasions, shown that Pinkie Pie thinks more seriously about her life and the lives of others than she lets on. She may not seem wise, or even be very wise, but her hidden side of thoughtfulness and subtle empathy is brought out in a way that doesn't feel cliche at all. She's not pushed to any extreme, random or overly sage, but is simply Pinkie Pie, which is just the way we like her. Beyond that, the story wraps itself up in a tidy way, complete with a happy little cupcake on top. There's nothing wrong with that and the story's happy end isn't even boring. More... content. Satisfied with itself. As it should be with a story of this type and caliber. The mood of the writing at the end hits a note that matches the mood of Old Thunder, which I love to see an ending do, as it shows the author truly cares about putting us in this character's head.
All in all, this story was a charming sojourn into the life of a pony whose twilight years were brushed by Pinkie Pie, and through that manages to truly find himself. I would recommend this to anyone who has some time to kill and enjoys a nice, fun time in front of a warm tavern fire in the company of our favorite party pony.
The End of a Quest is solid, bigoted sailor stereotypes notwithstanding ("Aye"? Really? I bet the author thinks sailors all smoke pipes, too).
The descriptions are strong and occasionally impressive. One clever detail charmed me: a painting so dark, the main character (an old salt named Old Thunder) can't make out what it's a painting of. The characters are given depth despite sometimes feeling predictable. This predictability comes out in the dialogue a bit and persists in a shadow throughout. The only canon pony in the story is Pinkie Pie; she, like the other characters, is written decently enough, yet with some small bit left to be desired.
As for the narrative, it hung together well enough, though I do admit I was a little perplexed by some of the more unusual events. But all this is forgivable, because the real value of The End of a Quest lies in its philosophical theme, which seeks to answer this question: What is a 'home'?
Indeed, we could ask ourselves: what is our home? Is it a house? A room? Or is it something even more personal, such as our bodies... or our minds? Is it the place where we feel most comfortable? Or is it a place where we are challenged? Is home located in the cities and towns where our families and friends are? Or is it an isolated mountaintop covered in fog and draped in silence, where one can truly seem to meet himself for the first time?
The End of a Quest tells the story of Old Thunder, who seeks a home, and of the unexpected, life-changing answer Pinkie Pie gives him. If you are interested at all in these sorts of abstruse questions, you will do well to give it a read.
STORY 3
Evicted, by Mystic
I admit that Evicted presents me with a bit of a conflict of mind, as I fully admit I went in with quite negative expectations. Let me, instead, caveat. Not all of you are going to like this story, but those of you who do like this type of comedy are going to love it. It’s macabre, it’s silly, it’s oh so woefully tragic, and the schadenfreude is so thick you can pour it on pancakes. With that, I once again fear spoiling what will most likely be a very short read for many of you. The brevity, however, is a distinct benefit as the story collapses on itself and ends before it can collapse on you. By this I mean, any longer and the well of comedy would have run dry and you’d have been left wet and uncomfortable as opposed to sated and feeling awfully guilty for laughing.
That said, I consider myself a consumer of comedy, and I am no stranger to the more depressing series of events that tend to make up the darker, more post-modern comedies. Considering this, I did find myself outside the demographic of readers this story is meant for. It is hopelessly depressing, frustrating even. Those of who you enjoy Curb Your Enthusiasm may well find even yourselves cringing at the misfortune our poor protagonist faces as she tries to overcome the loss of her beloved tree-turned-library to a one Twilight Sparkle. There is a contingent of you, though, who will find a great, giddy joy out of the ever more hopeless-but-believable situations thrown your way while reading. You will snicker, and giggle, and find a great deal of amusement out of a story that feigns seriousness in a way that lampoons all the good fortune that seems to exist in Equestria. It endeavours to claim boldly that, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It was awfully convenient that there was a bed in the library for Twilight, wasn’t it?
You know why we all like Charlie Brown? Because he's miserable. He's a wishy-washy John Doe who couldn't get something done if it came up and bit him in the face, and yet he's a charmingly good guy at heart. Book Worm, the star pony of this story, is rather like him. She has the misfortune of living in the tree library before Twilight, and is promptly kicked out with absolutely no recourse so Twilight can live in the library and save the world. From there, things just get worse, and worse, and worse. Book Worm is a wishy-washy Plain Jane who gets run roughshod over by everypony and everything imaginable, and in every situation it's somehow her fault that everything went wrong. This story earns its comedy and tragedy tags in spades, because literally nothing goes right for Book Worm until eventually she's driven crazy by it all. But everything goes so utterly, absolutely, absurdly wrong we can't help but laugh because the only universe something like this can happen in is one that is totally insane. Though given the behavior of the ponies in some episodes, this story might actually fit in quite well with canon.
There is no happy ending to this story, but that's what makes it so hilarious. We sympathize with the underpony while at the same time feeling relieved that we are never stuck in the same fate. We watch this unfolding train wreck and laugh at the utter absurdity of it all because there's nothing else we can do. Mystic hits just the right note of making you feel sorry for this sucker and yet has you chuckling when Celestia affably passes off her concerns, or she somehow hurts the feelings of construction ponies who completely screw up her replacement house. We laugh at Book Worm's situation so we don't cry about it, and because something this patently ridiculous will never actually happen in real life (we hope). The end result is a sweet and hilarious little story about a pony who just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time every single time. There may be a little too much zany here, and the whole story takes a completely noncanon situation and sticks it into the timeline of the show, and on top of that there's little connection between all the different segments. But this story is what it is, and it accomplishes what it came to do.
There's something really wonderful about characters who just can't catch a break, and Mystic wrote a very effective punching bag in Book Worm before ripping out her very soul and stomping all over it.
The thing (well, one thing, anyway) about recommending a comedy fic to a large group of faceless, possibly hairless strangers, is that you can't just say "It's funny". For we've all heard that before, and we've all been victims of the frauds of those witness nunces—you know the friend or cousin you have, that one, yeah, that's who I mean—the ones who cry "Laughs, laughs!" when there are no laughs; the humorless ones, the forsaken ones, the flotsam of civilization, who eternally ooze forth youtube links and lolcats like the adolescent earth bubbling up zits of primordial tar; festering links with comments sections from which issue forth the screams of the damned and the dying, the envious shrieks of the hideously malformed, and the heart-stirring retches of lepers, but not laughs, dammit, it can't be laughs, no human being could find this funny, why am I watching this? Dammit, Bobby...
With that said, Evicted is pretty funny. A lot funnier than I am, to say the least. I suppose it's technically a crackfic, but I don't really care. The author's skill is on display even here; some initial glimpses of a mature descriptive prowess—the ability to say a lot in a few words—drew me in; the main character won my heart despite being a stock butt-monkey; and the offbeat, almost syncopated comedic timing sustained the story to its conclusion. The story even turned out to have a strong moral theme—though that, too, was played for laughs. For a short crackfic, it really did a good job of interesting me in reading the author's other works. I will say one thing more; the story was more like a string of one-liners than like an extended joke leading to a climactic conclusion. But, that can be taken as either a good or a bad thing, for in this case it simply means that the core of the story is a storyline rather than a punch line. (It didn't bother me, at any rate.)
All in all, I really did enjoy Evicted, and I think most of you are likely to also enjoy it, though some of you will probably think it just isn't funny. Be warned, as well: there is just a little bit of toilet humor (though you might not catch it at first). Still, I consider reading Evicted twenty minutes well spent. Get to it.
“Well, sheesh,” Alex commented. “Had I known your reviews were going to be so damn long, I wouldn’t have made the intro also so damn long.”
Nietzsche shrugged. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Just keep the outro short, I guess.”
“And less meta,” Pilate added.
“And less awful,” RedSquirrel said.
Alex sighed. “God... I hate you guys.”
Suddenly, Belligerent Sock, for literally no reason burst into the room and shouted, “GO JOING OUR GROUP. AND POST IN OUR THREADS. AND MAKE RECOMMENDATIONS. THAT IS ALL.” Then he rushed back out the room equally quickly and for equally few reasons.
“...Well that was odd,” Alex said.
“Just shut up and finish the damn outro,” Pilate grumbled.
“Fine.”
THE END
Which means you've written just about all of these intros?
... That's all I got.
1212314
More than I'd like to admit...
But to keep the comment on-topic, I'm actually really interested in reading End of a Quest after reading everyone's reviews. It actually sounds pretty cool, plus I really love the old sailor-schtick. It's giving me some Old Man and the Sea vibes. Also, that well metaphor in your Evicted review was pretty snazzy, Pilate. I think I'll read it just because of that. Hot Chocolate I'm pretty 'meh' on though. Might read it at a later time. read: never
Outstanding Reviews as always! Thanks for all your hard work, and dedication to keeping the group running.
I remember when those openings were funny.
Oh, wait-
Does this mean I'm hot?
Evicted sounds like my kind of story.
1212402
End of a Quest is a great read. If you haven't read it already you should do so in the near future.
The vision shall rise.
As I get home, I go straight to my pc as I usually do and check: Mails, Facebook, Fimfic. I notice: One more like, Yes!
I come back a few hours later: Five more likes. Ok, something's up. Or maybe not... maybe it's a coincidence? I check the profiles of the people who favorited, who commented, of my handfull of followers... nothing. I check EQD despite the rejection I received. I open the front page of FimFiction, look at the featured stories... wait, that recent news is new. I open this here article, flic through it, recognize the coverart; tiniest of heart failure right there, followed by a surge of adrenalin. I've calmed down now, but I should have been in bed an hour ago.
Thank you for your reviews. I feel honored and am happy that you liked my story. I know there are certain weaknesses to it, and some things you have pointed out seem to overlap with the reasons the EQD pre-reader rejected it. I'll get back to it and see what I can do come the mid of August.
1212402 It's funny you'd mention Old Man and the Sea; It was the last book I've read before I wrote End of a Quest. I must admit though that the imagery I used is closer to what I imagined back when I read Moby Dick. If you do find the time to read my story, please let me know if you enjoyed it.
I'm just going to say that seeing your avatar on the front page will make me have nightmares tonight... Jesus!
1213205
Is it that ugly? :<
1213216. Baby, ugly is the last word I'd use to describe you ;)
Wow, thank you guys so much. I'm honored that you considered my humble little piece of fluff worthy of review. Your praise means a great deal to me, and it confirms that the fic did exactly what it was meant to do. "This story is simply heartwarming" just about hits the nail on the head.
Good thing the hot chocolate was disarmed before drinking. I've heard that glasses of it explode/
Nice reviews and funny opening.