Wanderer D 5,508 followers · 65 stories

Patreon | Ko-fi are available for subscriptions/donations! Helping pay my bills helps me write more!

News Archive

  • 116 weeks
    SA: The Last Round

    "So, what do you think, Corejo?" Wanderer D asked, politely showing off the stack of papers in his claw.

    The burlap sack with the printed (in color!) face of Corejo remained silent.

    "I see, yes, yes!" Wanderer D cackled. "Ahahaha! Yes! I agree! This story should do fine! So, who's reviewing it? RT?"

    The sack that had the picture of RTStephens on it tilted just enough for a single potato to roll onto the table.

    "And we have two! Alright, team, I expect you all to figure out who's doing the next one, okay? Let's not keep the readers waiting!" He glanced expectantly at the several sacks with pictures around him. "Alright! Dismissed."

    "Sir?"

    "Ah, intern. Is that my coffee?" Wanderer D took the proffered mug and downed the contents in one go. "Excellent! No time to rest! We have to edit what the guys just handed to me."

    Read More

    110 comments · 8,874 views
  • 137 weeks
    SA: Round 186

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    The Dodge Junction train ramp was not where Floydien expected to be part of a reunion.

    He especially didn’t expect it to happen four times in a row.

    “Wait, Winter? What are you doing here?”

    Winter’s eyebrows raised. “On Summer vacation. What about you?”

    “Uh, same.”

    “Guys!”

    The two Angels looked to where the voice came from. Cynewulf came running up to them, a wide brimmed sunhat and sunglasses adorning her head. “Fancy meeting you two here!”

    Floydien scratched his head. “Same. Are you on vacation too?”

    “Yep! Had a blast down on the Horseshoe Bay coast.”

    “Well, ain’t this something!”

    All turned to the fourth voice. Knight strode up, his body decked out in fishing gear, complete with a fishing pole balanced over his shoulder. “Haven’t seen so many of us in one spot since vacation started.”

    Read More

    12 comments · 4,662 views
  • 152 weeks
    SA: Round 185

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    Winter and Knight stared out at the bleak townscape. All around them, the fires raged unchecked as Ponyville's former occupants stumbled mindlessly about, their undead faces ravaged by rot and decay as they moaned for sustenance. Knight turned to Winter.

    "Ready to go?"

    Winter nodded and shifted a backpack. "Got everything with me. I guess it's now or never."

    Knight gave a wry smile. "That's the spirit. You do have your reviews, right?"

    "Of course!" he said, patting his chest. "Right here."

    Knight nodded and said, "Alright, here's the plan: we stick to the shadows as much as possible. From what I can tell, their eyesight isn't that good, but their sense of smell is excellent. We just have to stay upwind."

    Read More

    10 comments · 4,276 views
  • 159 weeks
    SA: Round 184

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    “I see. Alright, I’ll let him know.”

    Intern twisted a dial on the small mechanical piece attached to his ear, retracting a blue, see-through visor from across his face. He turned to Floydien, crossing his arms. “It’s confirmed. Generation 5 is on its way. Season 2 of Pony Life is just around the corner. And the series finale of Equestria Girls was scrapped for a holiday special.”

    Floydien lifted an eyebrow. “And, what does that mean for us?”

    Read More

    10 comments · 4,435 views
  • 163 weeks
    SA: Round 183

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    Over their heads the flak guns peppered the sky. The planes roared and sputtered. The clouds were dark, heavy with the child that was war. It was all noise.


    Cynewulf looked around the bend. “You know, I’ve been reading old fics. Remember Arrow 18?”


    Floydien slipped—a Floydien slipped—One Floydien came through the fractured time in the lower levels of the Sprawling Complex. “Uh, human in Equestria?”


    “Yeah. You know, we were probably too mean about those.”


    “They were terrible. I mean some of them. I guess a lot of everything is terrible.”


    “Well, yes. But anyway, I was reading it, and it occurred to me that what I liked about it was that it felt optimistic in the way that Star Trek was optimistic. It felt naive, but in a way one wanted to emulate. To regress back into it.”


    “Uh, that sounds nice?”

    Read More

    7 comments · 5,933 views
  • 168 weeks
    SA: Round 182

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    “Okay, Winter, hit it!”

    Winter pulled a lever that ignited a rocket placed underneath the communal Christmas Tree. The tree blasted through a cylindrical hole and out into the skies beyond. It only took seconds for the tree to become a tiny red dot against the blue sky.

    Winter stepped away from the control panel and down to where Intern was standing behind a fifty-five millimeter thick glass wall. “We could have just picked up the base and tossed it in the garbage bin outside, you know.”

    Intern scoffed. “Yeah, we could, or we can go over the top in a comedic and entertaining manner that leads into our reviews.”

    “You’re getting all meta, now.”

    “Exactly! On to the reviews!”

    ROUND 182

    Read More

    6 comments · 7,964 views
  • 173 weeks
    SA: Round 181

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    For the first time in the year that he worked there, FanficFan finally experienced quiet in the Seattle’s Angels Compound. All the other reviewers had gone home for the holidays, leaving him and Intern to submit the last round of reviews of the year. However, with Intern off on an errand, FanficFan was left alone.

    With stories ready to be read by his partner, all the reviewer could really do was wander around the empty building, taking in all the holiday decorations left behind from the Office Christmas Party a few days prior, like office space holiday knick-knacks, lights strown about the ceiling and wreaths on nearly every door. Plus, there was some leftover cookies and egg nog, so that was nice. 

    Read More

    8 comments · 6,377 views
  • 177 weeks
    SA: Round 180

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    Cynewulf lay in a grassy field. This was a curious occurrence, as the Seattle Angel’s Dyson Sphere-esque compound basement labyrinth did not usually have grass. 


    But like she had many times before, she’d been teleported here, and whether or not the sky above her was real or not, she didn’t mind. The grass was nice, and the wind was nice, and whatever happened happened.
    f

    There was a great crash and Corejo stumbled into the grass to her right.

    “Oh, god, are we out? How did—”

    “No clue. I suspect that it’ll just take us back anyhow. Did you have the reviews? The machine came for me a few days ago, so I’ve got mine.”


    “I… Uh, I was late. I mean, we both are, unless you’ve been here for days.”

    Read More

    9 comments · 8,134 views
  • 181 weeks
    SA: Round 179

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    Winter peered cautiously out the corner of the broken window, surveying the damage outside. He turned to his companion.

    "Looks like we're trapped in here," he said quietly.

    Intern grunted and adjusted the bandage on his arm. "Nothing we haven't gone through before." He looked up at Winter. "Got your reviews?"

    Winter nodded and patted his chest pocket. "Right here, where they're safe." He turned and looked once more out the window. "Now, it's simply a matter of getting through all those ponies." Winter shuddered as he took in the horrors before him.

    Read More

    10 comments · 5,233 views
  • 184 weeks
    SA: Round 178

    Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


    Matthew stumbled through the basement, crouching low to avoid all the pipes on the ceiling. Floydien hadn’t told him much, just that it was extremely important, had nothing to do with Intern, and to take the last fire door on the left.

    After what seemed like eternity in an instant, Matthew finally came to said fire door, damp with sweat and condensation. He carefully undid the latch and opened it with one arm raised just in case of any traps. Only to be greeted with the sounds of maniacal but joyous laughter as he spotted Floydien sitting in the center of the room surrounded by thousands of stacks of papers.

    “I found it!” Floydien said, tossing a stapled pack of papers to Matthew. “I finally found the answer. The answer to all of our questions. To our very existence!”

    Read More

    4 comments · 4,538 views
Oct
21st
2019

Story Reviews » SA: Round 160 · 11:49am Oct 21st, 2019

Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.


“Who was the intern again?”

Chris turned with a baffled look. “What? And also, what the heck?”

Cyne held his hand as he swayed back and forth over the endless abyss. The bridge linking the Infinite Archives with the District of a Thousand Delicatessens had given out as it did every 20 hours or so, because the ever growing labyrinth that made up the Seattle’s Angels HQ bunker. They’d just messed up the timing by a hair.

“Yeah, who was the intern?” Cynewulf asked again, regardless of the dire circumstances. “I keep forgetting and by rights at some point it should have been me?”


“For pony’s sake please pull me up right th—“


“Furthermore,” she continued, her lupine claws digging in as she pulled him up but by bit, “why do we have interns? And how did we come to be here?”

“Recruitment? How should I know? Please pull me up, there’s like ghosts down here!”

“It’s just a bottomless pit.” She pulled his torso over the edge and he lay panting on the floor.


“Sweet solid ground!” He reveled. “What took you so long?”


“Oh, you know. Did you do your reviews?”


He stared. His gaze was baffled, too discomboluted to even be upset as he pulled a few rumpled pages out of his pocket. “Yeah, like forever ago.”

ROUND 160


Rarity discovers a pattern in her relationship with Twilight, and wonders what she may have given up for love.


Undome Tinwe is both 1.) hard to pronounce if you’re unfamiliar with Tolkien, and 2.) a very good writer. Patterns is a good example of the second point.

This story was released as part of the RariTwi bomb, and it was probably my favorite among those not penned by Monochromatic (because hers was of course my favorite). This story doesn’t have much flashy happening, and honestly that’s a strength. It’s a conversation between Rarity and Twilight that has the light, dynamic touches you want in a good fictional conversation. The issues at hand (or hoof) are a bit fantastic because of the character’s circumstance, but beneath that veneer they are painfully mundane and worth considering. What does it mean to be “evenly yoked”? Do our different backgrounds make us unbalanced partners?

There’s a lot to chew on in this story, and with any luck you’ll find yourself thinking long afterwards.

Unlike my esteemed colleague, I haven’t read anything else from the RariTwi Bomb, and so can’t comment on how this compares to the other fare on offer there.  What I can say with total confidence, however, is that Cyne’s absolutely right about this being a great story by a talented author.

Those coming strictly for the shipping might be surprised to find it such an afterthought here, though those simply looking for a good story won’t be bothered at all—this is a good story, after all!  But it’s not really about romance; it’s about access. It’s a story about how being close to important people makes one important. And crucially, how it makes on important regardless of one’s merits.  How the noise of that adjacency drowns out any effects of skill or effort.

That’s a bitter pill to swallow for anyone—for anypony—who puts value on the idea of being self-made.  But as Tinwe shows us, it’s not an insurmountable one, and it doesn’t need to define us. What we have here is a story that tells us that while we can’t help how we’ve received, and what privilege we do or don’t have thrust upon us, it needn’t define who we are, nor how we choose to live our lives.


psy·cho·pomp - ˈsīkōˌpämp - noun: (in Greek mythology) a guide of souls to the place of the dead.

Luna and Twilight have a conversation at a crucial juncture in Twilight's life. Celestia and Applejack discuss it after the fact.

A story about moving on, the recurrence of things in eternity, awkwardness, and friendship.


Nyronus is a good writer, full stop. I’m surprised I haven’t done this one already.

Psychopomp is a really, really fascinating story and an example of that strange genre of “stories that might have happened”. Of course, if you’re utterly allergic to any sort of ambiguity, I can’t recommend it (or most of the best stories ever written for that matter tbh). Ambiguity, the distance between possibilities, is such a strong and enticing part of human life and honestly I love any story that can play around with it. I also love any story that can do so while also being just generally sympathetic not just to its characters but, in a way, to its reader and to people in general. Psychopomp is a kind story, and it wants you to know that its strange flavor of soft light is worth holding on to.

I always enjoy stories that have good stylistic/content synergy, so I’d like to talk about that a little bit first.  The majority of Psychopomp’s verbiage is relayed to us, the readers, in the form of an after-the-fact recounting of events.  This second-level storytelling (the character telling the story to someone, which the author is writing for an IRL audience) adds an additional level of removal to the events related, making them feel distant and somewhat academic.  While that’s not usually an effect to be sought in fiction, it’s just what the doctor ordered here.

Because, while this story is nominally about death, it’s really about the act of telling tales.  Death is big, and scary, and unknowable. But conversation is mundane; sometimes entertaining, and sometimes depressing, but fundamentally normal.  The author’s storytelling decisions emphasise that normalcy, even as the front-facing content defies it. It makes for a delicious contrast.

And of course, the story itself more than holds its own.  Part tale of the undying bonds of humanity/equinity, part campfire story, and just a hint of magic to make it all complete, this is a short fic that packs a lot of heart into few words.


Golden Harvest very much likes to think of herself as the sensible mare of the earth. She's certainly not one for breaking a perfectly good daily routine: give Dinky a hot meal, take care of the carrots, try to remember when she last had lunch...

Unfortunately, it's Nightmare Night coming up, and she's going through one of the least productive (and therefore least profitable) months of the year. So of course Derpy takes the chance to ask her for help with something she should've done last week. And yes, she does need it ready for tonight, and no, she has no idea how to actually go about it.

However, Derpy is a mare on a mission, a pony with a plan. And there's nothing more terrifying than that, even on Nightmare Night.


This story reminds me a lot of the early days of fandom, and in the waning light of the season and series finale, that’s perhaps fitting. Feeling the joyful icy touch of melencholy and nostalgia? Give this a read and remember what 2012-13 was like in ponyfic land. 

There’s a lot to like in this mode of writing. It’s whimsical, fun, and working on ideas about characters that we had in those days. It’s even reflected in the characters used—Derpy and Golden Harvest. I see these two together, and I’m taken back to the days when we used every background pony to the fullest extent possible, where Mic the Microphone and company were about to drop Beyond her Tomb.

If you thought this post wasn’t going to have at least a little Carrot Top in it, then clearly you don’t know which reviewer you’re dealing with.  But even if you, like me, came for some Best Pony, you’re sure to stay for the wonderfully whimsical Nightmare Night story that follows.

A big selling point here is the witty narration, as the author weaves wonderfully nonstandard descriptions and clever asides throughout.  “She brought her corneas close enough to grab the nearest carrot leaves with a blink,” we are told, and can’t you just see the ridiculous hyper-examination in your mind’s eye?

And amidst all that is the narrative itself, which takes a typically FiM-ish bit of low-stakes drama, and builds a silly but heartwarming sequence of events around it.  In a lot of ways, Impossible Numbers captures the spirit of the show, especially its early seasons, while adjusting to the forms best suited for writing. In all, it’s not hard to imagine an actual episode could have gone something like this, if you just sub in… let’s say, Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo, and Twilight.

Or better yet, don’t imagine that.  Because 1) Why would you ever want to replace Derpy and Carrot Top to begin with?  But also, 2) because this story stands perfectly on its own, and is entirely worth enjoying on its own merits as a seasonal bit of comedy/slice-of-life fun.


Derpy Hooves is rumored to be passing through the Everfree Forest on hoof faster than a pegasus can fly. What's her secret? A journalist from the Manehattan Herald intends to find out.


This story really surprised me. I was expecting something more mundane, more predictable. What I got instead was a tale that borders on the lovecraftian, but more truly can only be described as Weird Fiction in the old style.

Derpy’s “shortcut” is mysterious, and by the time you have a glimpse of the truth, you’ll find yourself with more questions than answers. But fundamentally this story isn’t about Derpy, or her route. It’s about the narrator, and it’s about the feeling of dread one has on the tale of a truth that would rather not be known.

A second Derpy-centric story, this, but a rather different tone.  Rather than a Nightmare Night comedy, here we have a bit of genuine horror for you.

As any horror aficionado will tell you, “less is more.”  That’s a good rule for life in general, really, but it’s especially applicable to horror: don’t over explain, don’t oversell, don’t over-anything.  Leave a sense of mystery, and let the reader’s imagination do your work for you.

The author shows how to play your cards close to your vest to best effect in this story.  What is Derpy’s route, and how does it work, and why is it there, and what did her husband have to do with it and… well, the list goes on.  There are many questions our reporter never finds the answer to. These things simply are not part of the natural order, and no answer will be or can be given within that idiom.  This is as it should be; the questions linger long after the story is finished.

Seeing all this through the eyes of an initially-jaded character like our narrator lets AstralMouse hold onto those mysteries, and frame the whole story in a very grounded way which makes the alien other-ness which comes that much more jarring.  His earthiness sets up the story’s turn, and invites the reader to see the world as a place larger than an everyman can safely view. Add it all up, and you’ve got a terribly (and I do mean terribly) effective bit of writing.


Inna corner of the District of A Thousand Delicatassens, they found one with comfy seating and a good muffuletta.

“So… What was that earlier?” Chris asked.

“What?” Cyne blinked. “Oh! Angel’s Madness. Effects all of us. You go crazy and then become part of the complex.”

Chris stared.

“What.”

“Yeah it’s awful.”

“How… why?”


“I could also be joking. You think this place has Lays?”


Feel free to visit our group for more information and events, and to offer some recommendations for future rounds. See you all next time!

Report Wanderer D · 3,933 views ·
Comments ( 6 )

Oh, wow, I was very much not expecting to see a story of mine reviewed by you guys. It's an honor, and I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was a story to dip my toes into horror, and I really think it turned out not that great as far as pacing, but I wasn't really sure how to fix it. I did like writing it though, and i do want to try to do horror again! Thanks for the reviews. It's nice to see I did do something right.

I'm fully imagining the map of the complex having grey areas for unexplored sections like in an rpg.

Also, like an RPG, I suspect there are some secret passages and delicious wall chicken within.

5143313
I think we once had someone try to map the place, but he hasn’t been seen ever since he mentioned something about going to the Cavern of a Thousand Hidden Stories.

We’d go looking for him, but, we don’t have any maps to tell us where that is...

I love that every single round of SA makes the bunker more confusing.

Wow, what a way to start the day. :rainbowderp:

:pinkiesmile: Thank you, merci, Danke, gracias, grazie, blagodaryu vas, xièxiè, and dōmo arigatōgozaimashita! And 6,500 different variations thereof; they haven't invented enough languages yet to express my gratitude. I'm particularly pleased with the comparison to the early days of the fanfiction scene. It probably doesn't hold up to scrutiny as well as nostalgia might pretend, but it did feel like a vibrant and excitingly experimental time. If I can capture and preserve that feeling years later, all well and good.

In all, it’s not hard to imagine an actual episode could have gone something like this

:pinkiehappy: There is simply not enough face to contain my smile right now. And because I do know which reviewer I'm dealing with, have this:

i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/500/205/beb.png

5143587

I will gladly accept payment in the form of Carrot Tops. Thanks for writing such an enjoyable story!

Login or register to comment