Guests, guests, guests. Ponies filed in, singles and doubles and families too, to be greeted zealously by their orange comrade at the door. Per Star Swirl’s command, the guests were appearing with at least some semblance of clothing to mark the seriousness of the event, but Major had outdone them all. His mane was slick and moussed and combed, his forward torso and legs sporting a dapper black suit, quite well-fitted, and a black bow tie nestled comfortably at the base of his throat. Had he not also been wearing a huge grin as he welcomed the guests, Stasis might have actually taken him seriously, looking as he did now.
Sighing, Stasis scratched idly with one hoof at his own covering, a simple white Neighru jacket that he thought looking rather dashing. A pity that such close-fitting clothing over his masque had the feel of little ants crawling and nipping at his young, tender flesh. He wondered if his siblings did not have some trick or secret to making such dress more bearable, or if they just suffered in silence as he did. Nit had oft-mentioned the soothing effects of cider, he recalled, but Star Swirl would not even let them serve punch.
Ignoring the chattering and congregating of the ponies, Stasis inspected the snack table. There were no candies, or pastries, or sweet treats of any kind. Instead, his nose was assaulted with the nauseatingly green scents of fresh-cut asparagus and broccoli and lettuce, served alone or in small salad bowls, dressed with croutons. Tentatively, he poked at one of the party-size daisy sandwiches, its bread unsweetened and its daisies, thin and flaccid. Eating such a thing seemed vaguely akin to placing a few leaves between two pieces of soft bark and stuffing them in his mouth. Stasis wondered why Star Swirl didn’t just invite all the herbivores outside so as to nibble on the lawn instead; it would be cheaper and less labor-intensive, and Stasis would gladly pocket the difference.
Hey, old geezer! he imagined himself saying.
Aye, lad?
What’s up with all this green? Didn’t I tell you I wanted potaters and chocolate and vats of malted milk so big it has to have warning labels?
I’m sorry, lad, sometimes I’m just so thoughtless and forgetful –
I don’t want to hear any of your excuses, you old geezer. Your food is terrible, your species is terrible, and you’re terrible. Now go out and catch me a bear.
If Star Swirl ever reacted the way he wanted him to, that’s exactly what Stasis would have said.
Stasis’ musings were interrupted as one of the party ponies walked up and, appearing blissful as he whiffed the hay fries, popped a few into his mouth and chewed with a smile. The little changeling eyed his fellow ungulate distastefully.
Thankfully, the drinks were slightly more serviceable. Stasis used his magic to pour himself a glass of strawberry cordial. Scoffing at the available diluting water, he drank it straight, letting the sweet syrup ooze its way down his thirsting gullet. No nudity, no vats? He was going to need the sugar.
“Excuse me,” said a pony, walking up beside Stasis and pouring himself a glass of water earthpony-fashion.
Stasis rolled his eyes at the pony’s magic-less-ness. Leaning casually against the table, Stasis sloshed the cordial around his cup, wondering idly if he could get away with splattering the crimson syrup on his pristine white jacket. Maybe he could spread some on one of the kitchen knives, too? His desire to see the ponies’ reactions was only slightly less intense than his desire not to see Star Swirl’s.
Glancing over, he noticed the earthpony’s cutie-mark staring back at him. Watching him. Blinking, Stasis’ gaze followed the pony’s large torso, up the hard muscles of the flank, past the simple golden vest to the square jaw and stolid face looking down at him. Stasis swore he could see the slightest tinge of amusement in the colt’s eyes.
“Majooooooooor!” Stasis called, not breaking his nemesis’ gaze.
“Huh?” came the answer.
“What is this?”
“Um…Pierce?” Major answered, sounding confused. “Or are you talking about his eyeballs? You’re staring at them pretty hard.”
“What is he doing at my party?” Stasis clarified, glancing over at his…friend.
“Oh! That.” Major smiled. “I invited him!”
Stasis made a sound halfway between a curse, a groan, and a hiss.
“Don’t worry, Stasis,” Pierce said coolly. “I’m not here to bother you. You’ve discovered your cutie-mark; you deserve the chance to celebrate.”
“You’re not welcome here,” Stasis stated bluntly. “Go away.”
Pierce didn’t even blink. “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. If you have a problem with me, perhaps you’d like to take it up with Star Swirl?” If anything, Pierce’s look grew even more intense as he awaited Stasis’ answer.
After a few moments, Stasis’ gaze wavered, and he looked down at the immaculate floor instead. “…No.”
Pierce took a sip of his water before wandering off, apparently to mingle.
“This party’s stupid,” Stasis muttered into his cup. “I hate it. I hate parties.”
“Nonsense!” bellowed Star Swirl from only a few paces away. “You’re having the time of your life here, lad! You just don’t know it yet.”
Stasis scowled at his persecutor. “I had to slave over this floor, and all my worst enemies are here, and what am I supposed to do with this?” he scorned, making a sweeping gesture at the ‘food’ behind him. “What’s supposed to be fun about this stupid party, anyway?”
“Games, lad! Games!” Star Swirl boomed, his eyes all a-twinkle.
“Games?” Stasis queried, suddenly unsure.
“Games!” Star Swirl repeated, holding up the book that he’d been reading quite a bit these past few days. “Animal’s Extreme Guide to Parties Big and Small has more games described than a lad as young and inexperienced as yourself can possibly imagine, and I’ve spared no expense in getting them set up for you. Are you ready, lad?”
“Sure?” Stasis set his glass down, somewhat enthused, somewhat afraid. Things that excited Star Swirl often excited Stasis too, but not always in a good way.
“Excuse me, Mr. Swirl?” said Major’s dad from beside the bearded wizard.
“Eh?” Star Swirl queried, blinking as he looked over. “What do you want?”
“Major and I were wondering if you were going to perform any magic as part of the celebration today. I know that many of the children and more than a few of the adults here would be delighted at the chance to watch Equestria’s greatest magician at work,” Major’s dad said with an amiable smile.
“No,” gruffed Star Swirl. Looking out towards the great mass of ponies scattered across the living room, he boomed, “Alright, folks. I reckon most of you are here, so it’s time for the first game of the day to begin.”
The ponies ceased their twaddling and looked towards him expectantly. Some of the children cheered.
Star Swirl’s horn began to glow. At once, the windows shuttered, the doors slammed shut, and candles burst into flame before the great wizard, shadows dancing across his hooded face. Smiling widely now, Star Swirl levitated up two cauldrons on either side of him – one filled with false pony tails, the other with a myriad of blindfolds.
“It’s time for Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Pony-Extreme.”
* * *
“Bwahahahahahaha!” Stasis cackled. “Bwahahahahahahahaha! That was great!”
Though his own bum burned, as he gazed out over the room of rumpled and blinking ponies, the little changeling was quite certain that he had given better than he had gotten. Many of the guests – children and adults both – were looking back at him with a sort of bitter anxiety. He grinned.
“Hey, Stasis?” came a dapper voice.
“Huh? What?” Stasis responded, turning to his friend.
Somehow, Major still managed to look every part the prim and proper domestic, despite everything that had just occurred. It was almost as if putting on the suit gave him some kind of posh pony powers, an ability to shrug off pinning attacks that would surely have tousled any lesser mortal. Stasis was impressed.
Major looked down at the floor between them, and scratched it idly with one hoof. “Um…I was wondering if maybe you could do me a favor….”
Normally, Stasis may very well have dismissed such a proposal outright. Major was his friend now, however, and he was trying to remember that friends were to be accorded special privileges.
“Yeah?” he prompted.
Major licked his lips. Looking over Stasis’ shoulder at the far corner of the room, he pointed.
Following Major’s hoof, Stasis saw none other than Abra herself, looking boring as ever in her deep-green dress. The edges were trimmed with a green so dark it was nearly black, giving her an overall floral look, like grass springing up from a patch of dirt, or perhaps moss spreading across a rotting tree. She was biting her lip as she gazed at her hooves, glancing furtively at the bookshelf next to her every few moments.
Looking up, she quickly scanned the room. Seeing Stasis, her jaw clenched, and she looked away.
“What about Abra?” Stasis demanded. “Or do you just want me to pat you on the back for managing to invite every single one of my worst enemies to my once-in-a-lifetime party? Great job, Major. What a friend you are.”
“I think that she really wants to read Star Swirl’s books,” Major replied.
“Then maybe right next to the forbidden object of her dark scholarly desires is not the best place for her to be sitting, hmm? Maybe she should go find some other library to sit in where touching tomes doesn’t transmogrify.”
Major frowned. “You like to read books sometimes. Star Swirl likes to read books. And reading is Abra’s favorite thing in the world to do, and I know that reading Star Swirl’s books would make her very happy. Why won’t you help?”
“I think that you just answered your own question,” Stasis explained.
Major stood up, glowering. “You know, I think that I’m going to go ask somepony else for help instead,” he huffed.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Stasis protested. “I mean, what is it that you expect me to do, anyway? Star Swirl said that if anypony touches his books, he was going to shave off his beard and beat them with it.”
“That’s why I need help!” Major said, looking anxiously towards the ornery old wizard. “I know he really doesn’t like ponies touching his stuff, but…he’s kind of like your dad, I guess, so I thought that maybe…um….”
“What? Scared to ask him yourself?”
Major shuffled his hooves ashamedly. “Well….”
Stasis’ eyebrows rose. “You are!” he accused. “Major, you can’t go through life being all cowardly. You’ve got to stick up for yourself! Don’t let some hairy old wizard put you down!”
Major winced. “But Stasis…I mean, I know he wouldn’t really beat me with his beard, but….“
“I can’t believe this,” Stasis huffed. “I just can’t believe this. You say that you’re my friend, but you’re terrified of some geezer so old his joints strike up a chorus every time he shuffles to the bathroom? You’re shivering in your horseshoes over some wrinkly stallion who smells like mothballs and looks like he works at a circus?”
“Shh! He’ll hear you!” Major whispered.
Stasis stood up, resolute. “No friend of mine gets to be craven! Watch, and be encouraged!”
Stalking towards his prey – who was in a conversation with Major’s dad, incidentally – Stasis took a great breath and, in his most awe-inspiring and fearsome voice, yelled, “Hey, you! Old geezer!”
Star Swirl froze, his mouth still open mid-syllable. Slowly, ever so slowly, his one visible eye swiveled, watching Stasis. Damning him.
For a few moments, silence overtook the room.
Tap. Tap. Tap. went the paddling-hoof against the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Stasis looked desperately around him, but the closest ponies were slowly drawing away, while the rest studiously inspected their hooves. Surrounded by ponies, he was alone.
“I…I mean…uh….”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Major wants to ask you a question!” Stasis shouted, backing up as fast as he could, giving his friend plenty of room to approach.
All attention turned to the dapper colt, who visibly gulped. Taking the first quivering step, he approached the statuesque wizard.
“Mister….Mr. Swirl?” he asked.
“Aye?” Star Swirl replied slowly, relaxing his posture. A little.
“Can…can Abra please read some of your books?” Major requested.
“Who?” asked Star Swirl, looking about the room.
“My friend Abra,” Major said, pointing out the filly in the corner. “I promise that she’ll take good care of them!”
“Eh?” asked the legendary wizard, looking at her. Studying her.
Abra’s eyes grew bigger than an owl’s, and her breath stopped mid-inhale. Stasis wondered how long she could hold out.
After a few moments, Star Swirl shrugged. “Eh, I reckon. I already hid away the priceless ones, so: if she breaks it, she buys it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Swirl!” Major said happily, diving in for a hug…then pulling back, reconsidering, and dashing off towards Abra instead. Abra herself just sat there, staring blankly at the far wall.
“You’re welcome!” Stasis yelled after his friend, before grumbling under his breath. Major could be very inconsiderate at times.
Somewhat put-out, Stasis sulked near to the adults. What mature ponies talked to each other about was always interesting to him in a sort of abstract way. Stasis felt like a zoologist or explorer whenever he listened in, anyway.
“– don’t know what to tell her. On the one hoof, I want to support her that no matter what she does – and she is quite talented, and loves it so much. On the other hoof, she always talks about her art as if she’s going to make a career out of it any day now. I try to tell that there’s no money in paintings or sculptures, not unless you can get a patron. And even if she were that dedicated, we’d have to move to the capital for her to have any real chance of catching the attention of the aristocracy. That would be an enormous burden; my job is here, and Major would have to leave all his friends.”
Star Swirl grunted thoughtfully.
“I think part of the problem is that she grew up in such a rich family,” said Major’s dad. “She’s generally sensible and good with money and the like, and she does her best when it comes to cooking and housework, but with some things she can be a bit…unrealistic.”
“Has she considered magic?” Star Swirl asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“…Excuse me?”
“I hear that using magic to make art is quite the fad these days,” Star Swirl continued. “There’s that pedestal they’ve got set up in front of the palace. You know, the one that looks like it’s got a glowing statue of Princess Celestia on it by day, and one of Princess Luna by night? Nothing but a fancy hologram, but the big horns in Everfree City love throwing money at that kind of thing.”
“That statue was unveiled over forty years ago, Mr. Swirl,” Major’s dad said, looking mildly distressed. “I wasn’t even born yet. Also, my wife is an earthpony.”
“Theoretical magic, then?” Star Swirl said, eyes twinkling under his hat.
“Mr. Swirl….”
Star Swirl’s laugh boomed across the room. “Ha! You’re too easy. It’s like a second Stasis just dropped right in my lap.”
Major’s dad chuckled lightly, looking uncomfortable.
“I tell you what,” Star Swirl continued. “Why don’t you have your wife send over one of her smaller paintings? I’ve got a bottle of dragon-fire lying around here someplace; I’ll send the painting over to an old acquaintance in the capital, and he can show it around to all his fancy-pants friends. If anypony’s interested, they’ll get in touch with her.”
Now Major’s dad looked even more uncomfortable. “Now, Mr. Swirl, I can’t ask you to do that….”
“Nope. But I’m getting a bit long in the tooth, and I reckon that if there’s ever a time to abuse my fame, it might as well be now. For a good cause.”
“Oh. Well, I –“
“If you seek to make yourself a patron through proxy, Oh Bearded One, I’m certain that I can think of a few other struggling artists who could use your goodwill.”
Star Swirl turned around and squinted. “Jack? When did you get here?”
“I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I’m not intruding?” Jack asked. Stasis was surprised to note that, in place of his usual odiferous weed, the older earthpony appeared to be masticating one of the sandwiches instead.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Major’s father,” said Major’s dad with a smile.
“I am Jack. Neither the gods nor fate has seen fit to give me wife or child, so I must greet you only as myself.”
“And seeing as how you’ve got no kids of your own, Jack, I’m a little bit confused about what you’re doing here at Stasis’ cute-ceanara,” Star Swirl questioned.
“I was invited.”
Star Swirl stared at Jack. Jack chewed his sandwich.
The silence stretched on for a few more moments, before Star Swirl shrugged. “Eh, whatever. You’re just in time for the second game, anyway.”
“Nothing as…exciting as the last, I hope?” asked Major’s dad, looking anxious.
“Of course not!” Star Swirl decried. “That was just warming everypony up. This is where things get exciting.”
“Mr. Swirl, don’t you think Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Pony-Extreme was a bit dangerous for children this young?” Major’s dad continued.
“Nonsense,” Star Swirl scoffed. “Look at them! They’re all running around like normal already. Kids this age are rubber; they just bounce right back. Also, being rubber is going to be especially important, seeing as how the next game is Bobbing-For-Apples-Extreme!”
“Are you not going to make a display of your magic?” asked Jack. “I would have imagined that you would be keen for such an opportunity, given how rare it is for you to be able to show off your knowledge and power in a way that truly resonates with the populace at large.”
“The populace can amuse itself well enough on its own without needing my help,” Star Swirl gruffed. “I’ve got better things to do. Like managing children’s parties. Speaking of which….”
Every head in the room turned as, with a loud grating sound, several large basins of water were dragged from the kitchen via magic; a fluorescent barrel covered in strange and arcane warning symbols was floated over each tub and tilted until prismatic apples spilled out.
The pony children’s faces were lit up as rainbow lightning crackled and arced before them.
* * *
Major stumbled over, his suit as immaculate as his eyes were glazed. “Ow…Stowsis, I cown’t feel my tongue anymore….”
Stasis cackled madly with joy. “Bwahahahahaha! I know! I luff it!”
“I think I’m gowing to go lie down for a while…” muttered Major, beginning a controlled fall towards the nearest wall.
“Mowe! Mowe!” Stasis cried. Several nearby ponies glanced back and forth between him and Star Swirl fearfully.
“I’m afraid that I’m fresh out of zap apples, lad,” Star Swirl sorrowed. “They’re darned expensive this time of year, and don’t keep well. But not to worry; the next event’s already begun.”
Stasis looked towards the other end of the room. There, several musicians had grouped themselves together and begun to synchronize their instruments, flutes and chimes and clarinets, oboes and lutes and lyres all working together in symphony. It was strange, this pleasant strumming and humming of the air, so different than his own family’s vocals, but producing a similar ethereal, almost otherworldly effect.
Even more fascinating, however, was the small, kinetic crowd of ponies surrounding the instrumentalists, many of the party-goers engaged in this rhythmic swaying of the body, this pounding of hoof and pulse of muscle, this toss and turn and twist that so intrigued him. The way they seemed to lose themselves to the beat, to the sheer physicality of the act, caring not for social norms or niceties as they rubbed and bumped and sweat, coming together as one in a mass of undulating flesh to worship these heavenly sounds that flowed and throbbed between them, through them, inside them. It was all so alien, so…perverse.
…
…
…
Stasis loved it! Cackling once more, he ran and leapt into the fray.
…Only to be lifted out a moment later, firmly bubbled within a sphere of blue magic and repression.
“Hey!” Stasis protested, loosening his numb tongue for the verbal onslaught he was about to unleash.
Star Swirl brought him close, expression disapproving. “’Hey’ yourself, lad.”
“But I didn’t even do anything yet!” Stasis argued. “You can’t punish me!”
“And I’m not punishing you yet. But if you want to dance, you have to follow the rules,” Star Swirl chided.
“Rules? What rules? This is free expression! You can’t suppress free ex–“
Star Swirl hit him with a book.
“The book says otherwise,” Star Swirl countered. “Specifically, it says that if you want to dance, there’s something you need. Something these other ponies have, and you do not. Do you know what that is, lad?”
“No,” Stasis pouted, crossing his forelegs over his chest.
“Look.” Star Swirl tapped the little changeling gently on the head, pitching him down.
Stasis turned slowly through the air, watching Star Swirl’s beard stream by as a cloud, then the reflection of his own ponified face in the floor, and finally the dancers, even more impressive now that they appeared to be cavorting their way across the ceiling. He observed them more critically this time.
Feeling quite vertiginous now, Stasis was finally stopped by Star Swirl’s hoof as the wrinkly old wizard’s face came back into view.
“And?”
“The ponies are all dancing in pairs?” Stasis guessed.
“That’s right,” Star Swirl continued, levitating the book up between them. “There shall be no dancing at this party, save in pairs.”
Stasis snorted in exasperation. “Whatever. I guess I’ll just go get –“
“Not Major,” Star Swirl interjected. “Opposite genders only.”
“What?” Stasis screeched. “Who says?”
Star Swirl opened the book to the back cover. “’Mr. Animal is a cosmopolitan partygoer who has dedicated his life to experiencing every kind of bash and blowout that the world has to offer. From wine tasting with the capital elite to drunken brawls in seedy gryphonic taverns, from juggling crystal corn on the cob at the Crystal Kingdom’s Crystal Fair to pagan rituals and exorcisms amongst the Quagga tribals, from deadly tests-of-strength before the Minotaurian Emperor to frenzied Bison Dancing with the mysterious buffalo of southern Equestria, Mr. Animal has seen it all, tasted it all, and enjoyed it all. Last seen responding to an invitation to a traditional draconic feast, any information regarding Mr. Animal’s whereabouts are to be forwarded posthaste to Mrs. Animal, who is currently hitchhiking across the donkey lands southwest of the Everfree in search of the perfect hoedown.’”
“That’s stupid,” Stasis muttered. “Mr. Animal’s stupid. I hate him!”
“I understand, lad,” Star Swirl said softly. “After the party, we can write him some nice hate-mail. Until then, we’ve no choice but to follow the rules as he’s set them down, and for this type of dance, it’s couples-only.”
“Fine!” Stasis spat. After a moment the bubble popped, and he plopped down onto his hooves once more.
Turning his back on the recalcitrant wizard and scanning the room, Stasis began to take stock of the female pony population. It was a disappointing selection. Even in this dim lighting, the bright and cheery colors were an assault to his sensitive eyes and sensibilities; there was not a fang of any size to be seen; and the less that was said about their personalities, the better. It was like someone had taken colored marshmallows and given them life and a purpose.
Looking about, he decided that he would just have to make do. Who would be the least-terrible filly to have as a dancing partner? Mrs. Busybody was too old; Mrs. Strudel, too fat. Mrs. Jiggle was too old and too fat. Little Apple Crumpet was too delicate and doe-eyed for his taste, and he enjoyed antagonizing Abra far too much to ever consider dancing with her.
What he really wanted was a filly strong of will and pure of purpose; a feminine embodiment of power of mind and body; a female whose psyche alone could crush lesser creatures and bend them to her will.
Basically, he wanted a feminized version of himself. Barring that, he supposed he could make do with Goldie. Better the Discord you know than the Discord you don’t.
Frowning, he looked around the expansive living room. He was almost certain that he had seen the alabaster filly arrive by herself before the party, but now that he thought about it, he didn’t recall seeing her since. He hoped that she hadn’t been hogging the bathroom the whole time; Star Swirl had muttered darkly about such ponies while reading his book.
Trotting about, he made a circuit of the room, eyes alert for the slightest hint of white-and-yellow. As he rounded one of the corners, he paused, his eyes jumping back to something they’d almost skipped: a flash of color in an otherwise barren place between two bookshelves in the corner of the room.
There sat Goldie, wearing a simple blue dress with pink flowers patterned across it that matched the color of her eyes perfectly. In her hooves was a well-worn white earthpony doll with yarn-for-mane and stitched mouth. He sported a stylish tux and top hat, a monocle over one button eye, and in one hoof was an ebony cane, an excellent accessory for fashion as well as self-defense. His expression appeared politely interested yet guarded, the face of a pony who held his cards close to the vest.
“Is that Mr. Top-hat?” asked Stasis. The little changeling had never had a doll before, and was intrigued.
Goldie’s head was bowed and her eyes closed as she rubbed Mr. Top-hat against her cheek.
“Goldie? Are you alright?” Stasis asked. He normally did not concern himself with the feelings and moods of others, but something was definitely off with his friend’s friend.
“Please go away, Stasis…” Goldie murmured softly into her doll. As she blinked, Stasis saw tear stains on Mr. Top-hat’s chest.
He looked about nervously, but nopony seemed to be paying the pair of them any attention whatsoever. He considered going to get Star Swirl to do something…but….
“What’s going on?” he asked instead. “Are you hurt?”
“I…I….” Goldie sniffed. “I miss my momma….”
Stasis frowned. “That’s what this is about? Goldie, if you miss your mother, then why don’t you just go home? Nopony said that you have to be here at my party, you know. And if Major said that, don’t listen to him.”
Goldie started crying. Stasis felt like he was missing something here.
“Do you need…um…somepony to walk you home?” he asked. Now that he thought about it, Stasis had never actually seen Goldie’s mother, but he presumed that home was probably where she was kept.
“She’s…not here anymore…” she whispered hoarsely.
“That’s why you would need somepony to take you home. To see her,” he explained slowly. “Or I guess somepony could go get her for you. What does she look like?”
“She died,” Goldie continued, so quietly that even Stasis’ ears strained to hear. “She said that she was going to throw me a party when I got my cutie-mark, and there was going to be balloons and cake and a tea party with Mr. Top-hat, and since she was a unicorn, when we had tea parties she would use her magic to make him move around and sip his tea, and she would always do these funny voices for him. ‘Yes, Miss Goldie, this tea is delightful,’ she’d pretend he’d say, ‘much better than that mud your father fixes. How do you do it?’ And I’d say…I’d say….” Goldie buried her face in her doll.
Stasis licked his lips nervously. Why was this kind of thing always happening around him? Major had been crying last week, and Goldie was crying now, and what was Stasis supposed to do? He never cried. What did he know about crying?
“I…um…” he began. “…Did she get sick, or die in childbirth or something?” He didn’t know much about why pony mothers died, but those things probably topped the list near where he used to live.
Goldie sniffled. “The monsters got her. I hid in an alley until the guardsponies came, and one of the pegasusus grabbed me up and flew away. They told me that she was going to be alright, but I knew that they were lying.”
Stasis looked at her, huddled up in the corner. She seemed familiar, now. More so than he cared to remember.
Pondering further, he said, “I thought I just didn’t recognize you from school…but I guess that you just weren’t there for the rest of last semester, huh?”
Goldie didn’t look at him. She didn’t answer.
“…I think maybe I should go,” he said.
“I don’t play with any of my old friends anymore,” Goldie murmured. “I didn’t do anything for a long time, but then Daddy signed me up for the play…and I met Major, and he was really nice to me, and you were really mean….”
Now it was Stasis’ turn to be silent.
“…But then Major told me about how you were an orphan, so I thought that maybe you were just being mean because you were sad…” she whispered. “Do you miss your momma, Stasis?”
Stasis didn’t think of Mother as much anymore. But now he did. For some reason a particular memory surfaced, one that he hadn’t remembered in some time.
The others, gone. Departed. A soft wind whistled through the clearing, tousling her hair as she towered over him, looking down upon him. He felt nothing in her heart, saw nothing in her face, and was afraid.
Her hoof reached out suddenly, and he flinched back. The hard tip of it rested gently against his cheek. She watched him silently for a time, and he stared back into her verdant eyes, fearing to move.
“You shall forget me,” she breathed.
He watched her quietly, listening.
“And you shall be great,” she said, her lips barely moving. “I know this truth, deep within me. You shall surpass your father, and your father’s father, and even your father’s father’s father shall bow before you, at the end. Long have I yearned to have one child with my blood, one whom I shall not watch wither and die before me. I did not ask for you to be great.”
“I shan’t forget you,“ he whispered.
“I heard it, whispered in my dreams. ‘He shall forget you, and you shall curse him.’ Sons forget their mothers, in ten years, or ten thousand. But why should I curse you, my reward? Was I forsaken for so long, did I suffer barrenness and contempt through these ages, that I may curse you now that you are here?”
“I….”
She took back her hoof and turned from him. He waited there, silent, until the others returned. She never spoke of the matter to him again.
“…I miss her,” he whispered to Goldie, and shuddered.
Goldie sniffled. “…I’m sorry for being so mean to you sometimes, Stasis. You’re a huge jerk, and you deserve it a lot, but I’m still sorry.”
Stasis looked away. After a few moments, his eyes alighted on the near corner; there, Pierce sat speaking with Abra. Her eyes grew wide and looked back at Stasis for a moment, before Pierce interposed his large frame between the two.
Stasis froze. He thought quickly, trying to imagine a way to separate the two ponies. It would be best if he could find some way to expel Pierce and convince Abra to focus on her books; it wouldn’t do to have them both leave together –
Goldie sniffled again in the corner. Slowly, Stasis turned away from the other two and watched her for a few moments. Pondering.
“Hey,” he said.
She sniffed, and looked up at him. “Yeah?”
“I want to dance, and I need a partner,” he explained.
“I don’t know how to dance…” she said softly, looking down at Mr. Top-hat, whose expression seemed more sympathetic now.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not all about you, Goldie. May I have this dance, Mr. Top-hat?”
Goldie gave a half-hearted giggle. “You can’t dance with my doll, Stasis. Dolls are filly’s toys.”
“I doubt Mr. Top-hat appreciates this discrimination,” Stasis warned darkly.
Goldie looked at her doll, and smiled slightly. “Well…maybe Mr. Top-hat and me can dance, and you can dance with us?”
“Maybe Mr. Top-hat and I can dance, and you can dance with us instead,” Stasis countered.
“You jerk,” Goldie giggled. “I think Mr. Top-hat just wants us all to dance together.”
Stasis eyed the doll critically for a few moments. “…Well, I guess it does seem unwise to argue with somedoll as urbane as Mr. Top-hat,” he conceded.
“You’re the weirdest pony that there ever was, Stasis,” Goldie laughed, stretching out one forehoof.
Stasis eyed the hoof critically for a few moments…then grinned. He was weird, wasn’t he? Coming from a pony, that was a great compliment.
He helped her up.
* * *
“The hippodrome,” Jack hissed. “The hippodrome! That albatross about the neck of civilization, that abominable cancer at the heart of ponykind! Tell me, did our forefathers chew upon pop-ped corn as they penned their timeless works? Did the great epics burst forth from their throats, only to be washed back down with flavored water and lemon-ade? Did they worship their sculpted athletes as gods, while the artist and the poet and the bard were thrown by the way? Nay, I say! Nay!”
“You…feel strongly about this,” Major’s dad said warily.
“I should chain myself before its gates, I should sap beneath its foundations, I should exorcise it from our beloved city as one would the foulest demon or the cankerest wound! Would that I had the strength, I would tear it apart pillar-by-pillar, stone-by-stone, even if it must collapse down upon me!”
“Wish the book’d let me put out something stronger than cordial…” murmured Star Swirl, squinting into his cup.
“Dad and I love the hippodrome!” Major exclaimed.
“What’s a hippodrome?” whispered Goldie.
“Event! Event!” demanded Stasis. “Onward to the next event!”
“I think that may be a good idea, lad,” said Star Swirl, setting down his glass and straightening his beard. “It’s about time we got on with it.”
The dull murmur of conversation and laughter dropped away, and all eyes and ears turned towards the mighty wizard. Stasis could taste their fear.
“I was pretty surprised to see this one in the book, actually,” Star Swirl explained. “It started up north as a game we kids used to play, since we couldn’t afford any of these fancy fake pony tails or apples or whatnot. Of course, seeing as how I’ve got more money and cosmic power now than I know what to do with, I went ahead and made a few modifications so as to make things more exciting –“
“Boo! Boo! Less explanations, more events! Boo!” Stasis booed.
Star Swirl glared at him for a moment before clearing his throat. “Fine. The next game is….”
Some ponies leaned in expectantly, while others edged towards the exit.
“Spider-Toss-Extreme!”
The room exploded with sound.
“What kind of party is this?”
“Please, Celestia, no….”
“How can you do this? Think of the children!”
Star Swirl glared at the mob around him. “Oh, what a bunch of proud parents you lot must be, skirting about like a bunch of spineless crawdads, moaning and groaning over every little thing. Are these children you’re raising, or bubbles, ready to pop at every little scratch and scrape?”
“Bubbles! Bubbles!” Stasis cried. “We want magic bubbles!”
“Are these spiders poisonous?”
“Of course they’re venomous, you ninny! Almost all spiders are venomous! They just can’t pierce the skin of ponies, seeing as how their mouthparts are normally so…small…hmm…might actually need to make a modification to my spell, now that I think about it….”
“I think that the young thespian may have a point. Considering that he is the cause for our celebration in the first place, why not do as he suggests and show us your magic, Oh Bearded One?”
“Stop calling me that, you green-toothed jackanapes.”
“It’s like that other fellow said! Give us magic!”
“Yeah! We came to see magic, not to get sent to the hospital!”
“Magic! Magic! Magic!” Stasis chanted, and the ponies quickly took up the rallying cry.
“What do you all think I am, anyway? Some side-show conjurer, here to do card tricks and light shows and pull a bit out of your ear? Do you think I travel around in a caravan, some petty charmer wooing earthponies with my hocus-pocus and abra-kadabra so that they’ll drop coins in my cap? Do I look like a common stage magician to you?”
Major’s dad looked the belled wizard up and down for a few moments, opened his mouth…and wisely closed it again.
“It’s my cute-ceanara! Magic, I say! Magic!” Stasis cried, sensing the slave-driver’s weakness.
Star Swirl’s eyes almost seemed to burn as they glared at the little changeling from under his mighty wizard’s hat. “Oh? Is that what you want, lad?” He scanned the crowd. “Is that what all of you want? You want to see my magic?”
“Yes!” they cried. “Show us magic!”
“Oh, I’ll show you magic,” Star Swirl growled, tossing his book so hard it shattered a glass of strawberry cordial and splattered the precious crimson fluid all over another colt’s white jacket, causing Stasis to groan in annoyance. “I’ll show you magic, all right. But there’ll be no blinds or bluffs here, oh no! I’ll show you real magic, magic born of a lifetime of sweat and tears and study! I’ll show you what a real archmage can do!”
“Show us! Show us!” they cried.
Stasis cackled with glee as he found himself wrapped in arcane bubbly goodness and lifted high above the crowd.
“And when I’m done, it’s this lad that you lot’d better be thanking, you hear? It’s this lad that’s the cause! Say, ‘Thank you, Stasis!’”
“Thank you, Stasis!” they cried.
“Because I’m about to blow your little ninny minds,” Star Swirl rumbled, his horn beginning to burn brighter and brighter before them.
* * *
“Look at me! Look at me! I’m flying!” cried Goldie as she flailed about, butterfly wings beating valiantly against the air as the taller ponies ducked and weaved around the nimble neo-pegasus.
“Hey, Dad! Look! I’m as tall as you now!” cheered Adult Major, his wide chest thrust proudly forward out of the burst remains of his suit.
“Look! Look! I’m as small as a tadpole now! Aren’t you glad you named me Tadpole, Momma?”
“I taste weird.”
“In these rhymes, I do seem bound. Shall of oranges, I now expound?”
“I can see through ponies’ clothes now. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“I think I’m a girl now.”
Major’s dad gave a strained smile. “These changes aren’t permanent, are they, Mr. Swirl?”
“This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening.”
“My wife is going to kill me….”
“Please, Mr. Swirl! Please change him back! I’ll give you money!”
“This is something of an improvement, actually.”
Star Swirl wiped his pale face with a kerchief, his eyes slightly unfocused and horn sparking. “Will you lot just calm down?” he muttered, ponies straining to hear him over the uproar in the suddenly-cramped room. “For Celestia’s sake, half of these spells are illusion-based anyhow. Leave ‘em alone and they’ll wear off in a few hours.”
One gaunt-faced mare shoved her way through the crowd, coming face-to-face with the hatted wizard.
“Look at what you’ve done to my baby. Look at what you’ve done to her!”
“Eh?” questioned Star Swirl, following her gaze upwards.
On the ceiling there was a filly, apparently oblivious to the scene below as she played with her tail.
“Does that look like the proper place for a little girl to be playing, Mr. Swirl? On the ceiling?”
Star Swirl stroked his beard absently, looking puzzled. “I don’t even recall casting that one….”
A stallion coughed. The surrounding ponies looked at him.
“It’s possible I may have…*ahem*…been the one to cast that particular spell.”
The mare stared at him. “You? Sleight, that is our daughter!”
“Everypony else was doing it….”
Stasis cackled from atop his high perch, gazing out of his sorcerous globule upon the scene of magical mayhem below. It was glorious!
…And it was at times like these that Stasis really wished that he was actually a chaos god instead of a little changeling. Feeding on bedlam just seemed like a better fit for his personality and motivations.
“Hey! Hey, Stasis, it’s me!” cried some small random colt from school, slowly floating by in a bubble of his own.
“Hey,” Stasis replied noncommittally. He already had one friend; his quota for this lifetime was pretty full.
“I wanted to talk to you!” cried the colt as he floated out of convenient sociability range.
“That’s nice,” lied the little changeling. “But it’s my cute-ceanara, and I’m busy. Maybe you can make an appointment with Star Swirl?”
“But…I need your help! And everypony knows how super-smart you are, Stasis! You must be the smartest pony ever!”
This seemed like a sensible pony child. With a few practiced kicks, Stasis propelled himself through the air, swiftly matching velocities with the other ungulate.
“Yeah?” Stasis prodded lazily as he soared through the air in his bubble.
“Well, everypony’s always talking about how smart you are, and Major – oomph!”
Pony and changeling bounced off one of the bookcases and began sailing back the way they came.
“…And Major said that you and Star Swirl helped him pass the fifth grade, and I’m only in second grade, so…do you think that when school starts, you could help me with my homework, too?”
Stasis pondered. It was true; Major had passed the fifth grade to the delight of teacher and parents alike. Stasis figured that nopony had ever worked as hard for his C’s as Major did.
Stasis eyed the little pony critically. He looked earnest enough…and he did recognize Stasis’ superior intellect. That had to count for something. There was one important question he had to have answered before he could commit to anything, though.
“…Do you have any money?”
* * *
Stasis watched idly as the party-goers filed out of the living room into the awaiting street outside. He eyed the bits of trash, spilled drink, and scuff marks on the floor with distaste. There was something about spit-polishing a place just so that guests could come and muck it all up again that disgusted Stasis.
“Well…that was fun, eh?” asked a still-pale Star Swirl, whose hat even looked floppier than usual after his wild disgorgement of magic.
“Delightful,” answered Jack, who somehow had managed to eat half the sandwich slices by himself despite being easily the gauntest pony there. “The ensorcelled child who spoke in perfect iambic pentameter…truly, that was a wonder to behold!”
“I don’t know about the parents, but the children loved it,” said Major’s dad. “It was certainly the most exciting party that any of us have ever been to, I’m sure.”
“It was great! I want to be an adult forever!” said Major.
Goldie just squealed happily as she fluttered into bookshelves and tables, enjoying her new alien appendages.
“I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news,” announced Stasis, walking up wearily to the adult ponies.
A bushy eyebrow was cocked. “Oh? And what’s that?”
Stasis sighed. “Well, on one hoof, I’m pretty much doing everypony’s homework for the next year. On the other hoof, I’m about to come into a lot of money.”
“That is depressing,” Star Swirl agreed.
“What I can’t decide is…should I just blow it all at once, or save it for something special later?” Stasis had learned a lot about economics in the months that he had lived with the ponies. Particularly, you often needed money if you wanted to convince others to give you theirs. And if he ever wanted to build Stasisgrad, he was definitely going to need financing.
“Ah, the quandaries of youth…” mused Jack.
Star Swirl looked about the now-vacuous room carefully. “Everypony out? Nopony hiding in the kitchen or passed out in the water closet?”
“I think it’s just us, Mr. Swirl. Everypony looked quite worn out by the…festivities,” said Major’s dad.
“Oh? Well, now that you mention it, so am I. Why don’t you take your boy on home, Pusher. Stasis and I’ll clean up the mess later.”
Major’s dad smiled and nodded. “Alright. Thank you for such a wonderful party, Mr. Swirl.” Turning to the bewitched adult beside him, he said, “Come on, Major. I think your mother’s had more than enough peace and quiet for one day.”
“Thanks for the party, Mr. Swirl! It was great!” announced Major. “Hey, Goldie. Do you want us to drop you off at your house?”
“Okay,” agreed the little pegapony. “I want to try flying outside, anyway. I want to show Mr. Top-hat what Trottingham looks like from way up high.”
“Eh…you’d probably best stay close to the ground, lass,” Star Swirl warned. “Never know exactly when the spell’s going to start wearing off. Also, avoid wind, rain, and direct sunlight. And definitely don’t nibble on the wings; magic doesn’t taste as good as it looks, trust me.”
Stasis nodded in agreement. The first time he’d tasted a rainbow was, incidentally, the last.
“If I’m careful, can you give me wings another time later on, Mr. Swirl?” asked Goldie.
“Eh…ask me again after I’ve had a nap.”
“See you tomorrow at rehearsal, Stasis! Congratulations on getting your cutie-mark!” shouted Major as the three ponies went out by the front door.
Stasis waved until the door shut behind them, then sighed. Major may be his friend these days, but right now, the little changeling wanted nothing so much as a chance to rest. Even a geezerly nap like Star Swirl’s was sounding pretty good.
The aforementioned wizard was in the process of staring at Jack. Jack was staring back.
“Well?” asked Star Swirl.
“Yes?” responded Jack, chewing on a piece of celery.
“Everypony else’s already left. I don’t reckon that gives you any ideas now, does it, Jack?”
“It suggests to me that the masses clearly do not enjoy your fetes as much as do I, Oh Bearded One.”
After a few moments, Star Swirl glanced over at the snack table. With a sigh, he used his magic to pile the remaining scraps of food together on one platter and levitate it over to the unkempt earthpony.
“Jack, would you do me a favor? Would you toss these out for me?”
“I would be delighted, of course. It’s the least I can do in exchange for that wonderful legerdemain earlier,” Jack said as he took the platter in his mouth and headed for the door.
“It’s magic, you jackanapes. And bring that plate back when you’re done with it, you hear?” Star Swirl called out, as the front door shut once more.
Stasis looked back and forth between the door and Star Swirl for a few moments, puzzled. “Do you two know each other?”
“All old ponies know each other,” Star Swirl muttered under his breath. “Reckoned you knew that by now.”
Stasis hadn’t known that, actually. It raised more questions than it answered.
“So,” said Star Swirl, looking down at the little changeling, “tell me the truth. What did you think of the party? It’s my first, so go easy.”
“I loved it!” Stasis declared. “I’d never even heard of those games we played, and I don’t think my mother herself could do as much magic as you can, and I’ve never had a chance to dance with a filly and her doll before. But the food was terrible. Party food is supposed to be good, I thought, but yours was terrible.”
Star Swirl laughed. “Is that so? And do you think you would have enjoyed the games and the dancing and the magic as much if you’d been stuffed to the gills with candy and cake and chocolate?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Stasis reproached the old pony. “That’s why we should have experimented.”
“Got me there, lad,” Star swirl said, his eyes a-twinkle. “But just because everypony’s gone home, well, that doesn’t mean that the party has to stop, does it?”
“It doesn’t?” Stasis questioned. The minutiae of partying still escaped him.
“Nope.” The wizard trotted into the kitchen, and returned a moment later bearing a platter similar to the one Jack had taken. On it were prismatic cubes, with clear outsides but swirling liquid insides, the blues and reds and greens and other colors arranged like a rainbow across the plate.
“What is that?” Stasis asked, eyes wide. The faint smell of the cubes was sweet and sugary.
“Nature’s candy,” Star Swirl explained, smiling. “Crystal berries I had shipped in by Pegasus Express, straight from the far north. Not the hybrids they cultivate nowadays, either; these have to be grown in frozen caves over years before they’re ready. Make a fine wine, too, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Can I eat them?” asked Stasis, who was feeling voraciously, vacuously hungry right at that moment.
Star Swirl set the platter down on the snack table and smiled. “Happy cute-ceanara, lad.”
Pierce talking to Abra, hm? I really want to look back at all the interactions Abra had with Stasis to find any hints to where that could be going... but those are too many words and I'm too lazy! (At least at the moment; MAYBE later).
The Stasis-Goldie stuff was cute! "One friend", hm, Stasis? I say you still have yet to learn how to count.
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If you don't get around to it, I suspect that the next chapter will jog your memory. It's not anything too terribly subtle, I don't think.
I've been surprised by the amount of love that Goldie's been getting from my pre-readers lately. I had originally struggled with whether to include her in the story at all, and now I'm getting suggestions about including more of her in future chapters and questions about romantic sub-plots and whatnot. I guess it makes sense, that fans of a show about fillies would like to read stories with little fillies as major characters, but I still somehow manage to be surprised.
(Oh, and big thanks to Icecolt for help pre-reading this chapter. Forgot to put that in an author's note.)
An ancestor of Pinkie perhaps?
amazingly light and nice chapter :)
And yes, Stasis&Goldy stuff is cute indeed
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And only 8,500 words, too! If it's not at least in the quintuple digits, it hardly feels like one of my chapters at all, these days.
Fun fact: 'Pin-the-tail-on-the-pony-Extreme' is actually one of the earliest ideas I ever came up with related to this story, back when I was first considering writing a fanfiction, which was about...a year and a half ago now, I think. Back when Stasis was just an evil, charismatic changeling who found his way into Ponyville for whatever reason, and Pinkie Pie decided to throw him a party. Virtually all of that early work went into the recycle bin where it belonged, but I've been waiting for an opportunity to use that party idea for a long, long time.
Wow, I regret not catching up and reading the last three chapters sooner. I feel so...feelings. I'm a broken record, I tell ya, I love this story so much. Near and dear to my heart it is. All of these little interactions Statis has and the friends he makes as he grows up is such a joy, it makes me feel so warm~
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"Three chapters"...hold on. You haven't read my story in two months? For shame, Sako. For shame.
Much as the gods of old were given strength through the prayers and sacrifices of their acolytes, I, too, subsist on the attention and feedback of my followers. Also, spicy chicken sandwiches.
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Forgive me!
My fics piled up to somewhere around 260+ unread chapters, and 300+ on my read later list. After much reading I have gotten the unread chapters to 190 now, which part of that were these chapters.
...my read laters have jumped up to 400+ now though...
Also, I'm more of a nice, classic, juicy burger man.
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First, let me thank you for finding the time to review my story, Vren. I know you’ve got a lot of stuff going on, and I certainly appreciate that someone as experienced in reviewing as you would invest your time reading and critiquing Prodigy. (Sure, AHA’s rules kind of obligated you to do it, but I still appreciate it.)
Now, about the pacing/plotting/tension/conflict: I do not disagree with you in the least. When I first began work on Prodigy, I had the basic idea behind this huge overall story arc I wanted to write, and I knew how Prodigy fit into that; that is, I knew how Prodigy had to begin, and I knew how it had to end. Everything in-between…well, I kind of figured that I’d make it up as I went along. I really, really wanted to start writing, and I didn’t want to spend weeks or months trying to plot the thing out first.
Of course, I think it was around chapter five that I realized that that doesn’t really work. (Well, not unless you’re writing flash-fiction or something. Or you’re Stephen King.) So I really started trying to move the plot forward around chapter six or so, and started to flesh out my idea behind the basic conflict and all that. It wasn’t until I began work on chapter twelve that (with some advice from Mani the Hastener) I actually outlined the rest of the novel. With thirteen, I actually outlined the chapter itself, and now with fourteen, I’ve written a several thousand word ‘summary’ of sorts that I’m going to expand into the actual chapter itself.
My point is: while I never planned for Prodigy to be a fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat thriller, I readily admit that I erred in its pacing and plotting, especially early on. As you get further along, however, I hope you’ll notice a general improvement in the pacing, plotting, and tension (though, again, this is no thriller). These areas don’t come nearly as naturally to me as characterization and English itself does, but I am working hard to improve at them. The last thing I want to do is bore my readers.
About the world-building…I’ve had several people compliment me on my world-building, which surprises me. While I’ve rather enjoyed building up the world around Equestria, I honestly feel like Trottingham itself is a bit…lackluster, in that regard. When I first started writing this tale, I honestly just wanted to start writing, and so I just took what I imagined to be a generic Equestrian city/town, stripped out all the technology, and plopped Stasis down in the middle of it. If I were writing Prodigy from scratch now, I think I’d work much harder to make things seem…historical. The Equestria I’ve built doesn’t really feel different enough to me from the one in which the show itself takes place (which is around 1700 years in the future, if you didn’t know). Of course, as I went along, I put much more effort into developing the disparate societies of the gryphons, zebras, and the like, but it was kind of too late to do much for Trottingham itself.
Concerning the last line of chapter six, ‘For the first time that night, Stasis wanted to cry’…it’s funny, I meant that as a joke? Star Swirl had just finished talking about how he was going to go get a nap, and how Stasis needed to get ready for the long, long night ahead of him. This, when Stasis had just stayed up the whole night fighting an inner battle over whether to leave or stay. So, it’s supposed to be Stasis wanted to cry over the unfairness of it all…but some people seemed to take it seriously, and think of it as a sad ending. Oh, well. I suppose as long as people got ‘dem feels,’ it doesn’t really matter if those feels weren’t the ones that I’d actually intended.
As for the chapter ‘Star Swirl’ (as well as ‘Of Siblings and Sorcerers’), I’ve gotten mixed opinions on these chapters. Some people love the world-building, characterization, and use of the English language; others feel like they’re too far removed from the actual plot itself. (One prereader described Jack’s monologue in oSaS as ‘a perfectly fine kidney that somehow found itself inside a perfectly fine liver,’ or some such.) So, while I’m certainly glad that you enjoyed ‘Star Swirl,’ I’m still a bit torn on whether including it in the story was actually the right decision or not.
Now, all of that being said, I do have some questions - mostly clarifications, actually. First, you say that while you feel that Stasis’ characterization is good, you don’t like him. Is this because you feel like he’s not given sufficient motivation to want to stay in Trottingham with Star Swirl? Or is it because you have a personal antipathy towards him specifically? (This is fine, by the way - sometimes you just don’t like a character, especially if he’s an evil little brat like Stasis.) I wasn’t clear on that point.
Second, you say that Prodigy is more of a novel than a fanfic serial style. I wasn’t aware that there was any such difference. I thought that long fanfics were just novels that were being written and published serially, rather than all at once. Are you saying that fanfic chapters are usually more self-contained that novel’s, or something like that? I’ve always envisioned Prodigy as a novel, with three acts and all that.
As for your comment on chapter seven…I was somewhat confused. Did you mean to say that the quote exemplified Stasis’ behavior, knowledge, and intelligence? If you mean that it literally explains those things, then I’m afraid that I don’t quite see the connection.
Anyway, thanks again for the review, Vren. I look forward to reading your thoughts on the next chapter later today. ~ Sable
This looks interesting. I'll have to give it a read, you heretic scum.
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lol Get off my page, you surreal hack. This comment box is for real readers with important things to say.
So I was going to draw you some fanart, but I didn't like the look of what I came up with. So instead I relined/colored Star Swirl the Bearded from your cover.
oi40.tinypic.com/2qrzreh.jpg
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Awesome. I should be getting some new cover art pretty soon, but I always love getting fanart. If you do decide to do something original, I'm sure I can find someplace to put it where people can see it. (Story description? Blog? Profile page? I'll figure something out.) If it's a scene from the story, I might stick it in the relevant chapter, like I did for the illustration in 'Heartfelt.'
And don't worry about it not being professional quality, either. I mean, goodness. Look at the cover art I've got now. Not exactly god-tier, eh? Didn't keep me from loving it, or using it.
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It wasn't that I thought the quality of what I had sucked, just that objectively I didn't like the piece. I'm on an art kick right now, so you may be getting something original from me in the future.
3407621 So sorry for not replying to you earlier. Somehow... i must have missed the notification and usually I'm spot on with them. I was alright a week ago... not so much now, but giving feedback is destressing so I shall comment away! I do like your story and in fact I think I need to start reading the rest of the updated chapters. I don't love Stasis, but what's going to happen to him is keeping me at the seat of my pants
And aw shucks. I may have experience, but frankly, your word choice is probably better then my own :P. I tend to be pretty good with the concept, idea and hook of stories as well as formulating chapters that begin and end with specific goals in mind. However, my word choice... is a bit awkward at times and not once have I ever had to critique your word choice... it's very natural, even if the pacing is slow and that's not easy to achieve.
Welp, I don't think your story isnt' boring per se. Its slow paced and I'm used to writing more action packed stories (not necessarily fighting, but action). However, I HAVE noticed the improvement in pacing in recent chapters (that I reviewed) and there is an increase in tension and comedy. So that's a good job on your part and I'm pretty sure it only gets better.
Oh I like his characterization! I really do! I think you're effectively showing me his emotions, his motivations and his personality. It was the way he manipulated his peers and antagonizes/ bullied the other ponies that bothered me given my past experience of having been teased/bullied. He's an evil little brat. I like the bratty part of his evil, but the undertone of his darker evilness... gives me the shiverry shivers heeby jeebies (which is good because it means your characterization is effective). At the same time though I advise you to stay with this character. This is what distinguishes your story from the other changeling stories I've read. Its the fact that the character is actually evil-ish. There are not a lot of changeling stories (admittedly mine included) that take on this leap to make their changeling protagonist an evil brat.
Yes. Although, its not that fanfics are inherently different from novels, but your story does give a better feel as a novel due to its sheer length compared to other fanfics, although that's not the only thing. One Fo:E fanfic I've read was SUPER LONG... at the same time though, each of his chapters tended to be more self-contained, having an almost short event or story in each one. Yours just tends to be more...cohesive in a sense because each chapter is more reliant/linked to the other. Now... thing is though, there are no disadvantages to either style. This was just a remark I made and in fact, I think this more novel style is suited to the story you want to tell. Stasis's live isn't in short snapshots, its a very coherent journey.
For one, it does exemplify Stasis's behavior, knowledge and intelligence. The other is that it quite literally explains those things. I never realized fully that Chrysalis actually had a personal hoof in training Stasis until that point, neither had I realized Stasis was actually treated like Royalty since Stasis's recollections of her appeared to be a bit... distant... as if he was one of many. At the time I was reading, I had thought his referral of 'mother' was a metaphor for 'mother of his hive' or something like that (probably my fault for having read too many fics of that genre in which changelings referred to chrysalis as mother of some form). In hindsight, the fact that Stasis was a prince... should have been quite obvious, i'm not sure how as a reviewer I didn't realize it... so don't worry about that... though you may want to check over his recollections and make it a bit more obvious.
Anyhow I need to get reading to those other chapters. Good luck with your fic!
Hello again, Sable Tails! It's finally me, Kierkegaard, and as you know, I'm your WRITE reviewer for "Prodigy". Sorry again for the wait; I could place the blame elsewhere, but it’s all mine. Although, in my defense, I’ve never reviewed a story this long before, and it really did present me with some challenges that I hadn’t had to deal with before--namely, the impossibility of holding the entire fic in my mind at one time, and the impracticality of reading it more than once through. Accordingly, most of my suggestions here are fairly general. Feel free to follow up with any questions you still have after reading this, including more specific questions I may not have addressed.
Anyway, let's get this belated show on the road!
* * *
First things first--let’s talk about your synopses. We’ll look at the long one first:
You already know that I think this is a poor synopsis, but we haven’t talked about just why yet. Moreover, when we talked, you seemed to hint that you needed some direction in understanding just what it is that a good synopsis should do.
The thing to remember about a synopsis is that it is a reader’s very first encounter with your story. To understand the impact that your synopsis will have on a reader, then, you have to be able to empty yourself of all your pre-existing knowledge of what your story contains, and be able to simply see the words of the synopsis as they are written. Needless to say, this is difficult for most people, which is why most authors are quite bad at writing effective synopses for their fics. A second pair of eyes can be an invaluable resource in this matter.
The help, then, that I have to offer as the owner of a second pair of eyes, is to tell you what I see when I read your synopsis. To tell you the message that you have conveyed to me--not merely in the literal meanings of the words you’ve used, but in the attitude those words convey, in the philosophy they manifest, in the mood they conjure--the whole package. So here’s what I see.
When I read “Stasis never signed up for this,” I infer that Stasis has in fact signed up for something. He must be a military member, or a volunteer of some kind. “He was just here for the magic, the money, and the memory.” A vague statement, but gets across the idea that Stasis’s motives are mercenary. Now I’m thinking a lone star, Han-Solo type character. Maybe he has some sentimentalism buried deep inside, but it’s covered by a hard exterior that won’t easily be broken.
“When he decided to stay in Trottingham, he hadn’t done it with the expectation that he’d by hounded by zealots and spanked by old geezers every other day.” Now I’m confused. I mean... what? First of all, what kind of zealots are we talking about? Second, who are the geezers (multiple)? And why would he be spanked? I thought he was some kind of adult capable of signing up for things.
“He just wanted to live a normal, simple pony childhood, but with the ability to do anything he wanted and not have the consequences shoved in his face all the time.” Oh, so he’s a pony child. Gotcha. All that tosh about “but with the ability to do anything he wanted and not have the consequences shoved in his face all the time” really makes me doubt the author’s intelligence, though--I mean, that sounds like a fantasy anyone should have grown out of by the time they’re nine years old--but whatever. At least now I know who the main character is: a pony child.
“So thinketh Stasis Silvertongue, adopted son of Star Swirl the Bearded, immortal atheling, quisling, and traitor to the changeling race.” Ha... well, damn, I was wrong again. So he’s a, um... uh... changeling, okay. That word I understand. Maybe the author will explain somewhere what the heck an “atheling” or a “quisling” is. “Thinketh” sounds pretentious as all hell, though. Do I really want to read this? It sounds like some generic OC Mary Sue fic. I mean, the main character’s immortal, the adopted son of Star Swirl, and he’s got a last name like Silvertongue, and the author’s going on with immature anti-parental fantasies, and... come to think of it, the title of the story is “Prodigy”... and, oh, it even has some hand-drawn cover art to match... Huh.
That, in a nutshell, is what I see when I look at your long synopsis. Now, how can you improve it?
First: understand that people read synopses quickly. That means you want to make a synopsis as clean and easy to understand as you possibly can. Notice the mental whiplash I went through in reading your synopsis. Notice all the different ideas I had to shuffle through about what the protagonist of the story was like before I was finally able to get the correct idea at the very last line. That is something you cannot afford. Readers like me will get confused, and if I get confused just reading a story’s synopsis, I am almost certainly not going to pick that story up and read it for pleasure. Again: be as concise and clear as you possibly can. Get the key information down in as few words as possible. And keep this in mind, too: the only reason I ever got the right idea about Stasis was because I read the synopsis all the way to the end. Many readers will not read a long synopsis to the end. You want even the skimmers who just glance at the first line to have a good, accurate idea about what your story contains.
Second: be concrete rather than vague. “Stasis never signed up for this” is vague. “He was just here for the magic, the money, and the memory” is even vaguer. That’s your first two sentences blown, and they really are the most important because, again, people tend to glance at synopses and then move on unless something catches their eye. Talking about unspecified “geezers” is not concrete either. The only things in this synopsis that are concrete enough to be really interesting are “adopted son of Star Swirl the Bearded” and “traitor to the changeling race”. Those give concrete, specific plot points as well as insight into the conflict of the story. Since the conflict is the narrative’s motive force, that’s a very important thing to do.
Third: use simple language. Please. A synopsis is your one chance to reach out to the most general of general audiences. It will not do to throw your thesaurus at them up front. I consider myself fairly well educated, and I’d never even heard of an “atheling” before preparing this review. This advice goes not only for vocabulary, but for sentence structure too. Just keep it simple. Think of writing a synopsis as trying to make new friends. When you meet new people, you try to be outgoing, accommodating, interested in them rather than in yourself, and you try to avoid giving offense or making them feel insecure or threatened. Similarly with a synopsis: speak so that everyone can understand you. Present your story’s good qualities without shame, but don’t trip over yourself trying to impress. And don’t make your readers feel stupid! Common sense stuff, isn’t it?
Hopefully I’ve given you some good things to think about regarding how to prepare a suitable synopsis. And now, let’s glance at your short synopsis while we’re at it:
In my opinion, this is far better than the long synopsis. Not only is it shorter and cleaner, with a more gripping opening hook, but it actually reflects the conflict of the story to a much greater extent than the long synopsis does. If I had to take issue with a few things, it would probably be with the words “saccharine” and “corrupt” first. I would replace “saccharine” and “corrupt” with more straightforward words that don’t give the cynical changeling spin on the pony ideals--”convert” instead of “corrupt”, for example--but even if I didn’t want to do that, I’d replace “saccharine” anyway because it’s pushing the upper limit of the vocabulary I’d want to use in a synopsis, and also because the alliteration with “sentiments” is annoying, like it’s a cheap attempt at impressing someone. Second, I’d replace “little” with “young”. Purely stylistic choice there. Finally, I’d try to find another way to word the fourth sentence (“These things...”) so that it didn’t involve a comma. The comma slows down the sentence and makes the reading that little bit more tedious.
Now I should mention that some people will say that asking rhetorical questions in synopses is a bad idea. I have no considered opinion on this matter, but the claim makes at least basic sense when you consider that asking a rhetorical question means forcing your reader to work harder, by changing the sentences from declarative to interrogative. You should get advice from someone who has thought about this particular matter a bit more than I have if you’re interested in a better explanation of this position, but for now, just keep in mind that you should probably consider rewriting the rhetorical questions in your short synopsis into the form of statements.
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Whew, that was fun. Is it time to actually review the story now? Ha, whaddya know, it is!
Right, well, you can probably predict most of what I’m going to say here. I mean, you’re an intelligent guy, you understand things. You’ve heard these complaints before. But here I am, just telling you what I see, so I’m bound to repeat some things.
Well, then: most of the biggest problems with Prodigy stem from your wordiness. I am talking about pacing. I am also talking about tone. I am also talking about characterization problems, dialogue problems, and general problems with the prose. So, let me start by explaining in what senses I mean that you are "wordy", and why this "wordiness" is a bad thing.
Storytelling is an art, of course, and like all art, it has methods, aims, and media which are peculiarly appropriate to it. As far as written storytelling goes, the chief medium is words. There is, then, a clear contradiction in claiming that a given written story uses too many words: if stories are basically nothing but words, and there is not evidently any upper limit on the possible length of a good story, then it seems impossible for a story to err by containing too many words. Such a complaint, if made, would say more about the complainer's low attention span than about the story's merits. So in this sense, "wordiness" as a fault is impossible.
But of course this is not what people usually mean when they call a fic "wordy". They mean that the fic uses too many words in places or in ways which undermine the fic's successful execution of the methods of storytelling and thus prevent the fic from achieving the aims of storytelling. They mean, for instance, that a particular scene drags on for too long, beyond the ability of the scene's conflict to sustain readers' interest; or that the descriptive passages are awkward, redundant, and unfocused because of the author's prolixity; or that the author uses cumbersome and recondite diction in places which seem to call for plainer, more everyday vocabulary.
Right, well, with that much said, the question now becomes: what do I mean when I say Prodigy is wordy?
First of all, I mean that you generally include extraneous material as a matter of course in describing all sorts of things. Such material is generally unnecessary for two reasons: it states explicitly things that could already be inferred from other parts of the text, or it detracts from the pacing and/or tone of the scene.
This is a little hard to explain abstractly, so let me just use as an example the first three paragraphs of your latest chapter.
>singles and doubles and families too
These words remind me of two things: ticket booths, and tennis games. Neither of these things are in the scene. Why you would refer to a lone pony as a “single”, or a couple as a “double”, escapes me. Further, the singsongy, dactylic cadence of the line gives it a frivolous air which clashes with the rest of the paragraph.
>to be greeted zealously by their orange comrade at the door
First of all, the adverb is awkward, as adverbs often are. Second, the combined effect of “zealously” and “comrade” is to remind the reader of Soviet communism. Why this image should have to occur to a reader who is trying to become immersed in a world of changelings and wizards is not clear.
>Per Star Swirl’s command
“Command” is an awfully strong word to describe an advance notice of the type of clothing appropriate at a given social event. This is especially the case, given that the lazier of the guests are apparently only wearing “some semblance” of clothing, which I can only guess means they just threw something on without much care. So if Star Swirl really gave a command, it seems like no one was really impressed by it.
>Had he not also been wearing a huge grin as he welcomed the guests, Stasis might have actually taken him seriously, looking as he did now.
This is probably the main thing here: it seems like you’re always relating everything back to Stasis. The world of Prodigy revolves entirely around Stasis. No description of an event or person is ever truly complete without Stasis’s opinion on it being included. Of course it’s a good thing to do this occasionally to establish character. But at this point you’re just being indulgent. When a reader could have guessed a character’s thought ahead of time simply by using the context clues, that thought does not need to be written down.
The problem is worth harping on because it has a number of ill effects. First, it dissolves the bond between narrator and focus character. Prodigy is written from a third-person limited perspective, right? So the narrator only follows one character at a time, the focus character. Most of the time, for you, that’s Stasis. But it’s important to keep the narrator separate from the focus character. Take the first paragraph of the quoted material as an example of why. It begins by seeming to objectively describe the conditions at the party. So, as a reader, I think I’m listening to the narrator and getting an accurate picture of what’s going on. This continues all the way until the final sentence of the paragraph, where it’s jarringly revealed that I’ve actually been hearing Stasis’s subjective, fallible evaluation of the party. Except that’s not right at all--the author’s intent was obviously to convey true information about the party in the first half of the paragraph, and to give Stasis’s opinion about Major in the final sentence. But, that being the case, the author should have separated the two into different paragraphs, because they concern different topics entirely.
Having a poorly defined narrator is a hassle for a reader, because it feels claustrophobic being stuck inside a single character’s head all the time. We want to follow that character and care about him, sure, but authentic caring can only occur where there’s difference and freedom. If you try to forcibly unite the reader to the character, things backfire. A trustworthy narrator, who needs no affection, who only exists to guide the reader through the story world and facilitate his or her interactions with the characters and events contained there, provides the needed distance to allow authentic interactions between readers and characters.
Second, your focus on Stasis often detracts from the moderation and concision required for good pacing. Of course, pacing is not about fast or slow, but about observing correct proportion. There’s nothing wrong with one fic moving more slowly than others do. However, generally speaking, every part of a story should contribute something important and unique. If a scene exists only to have fun with characters, without moving the story forward, then however much fun it may be, in terms of narrative it is just filler and needs to be removed. And I do see a lot of filler in Prodigy. Mostly this filler is interspersed alongside the substantive material. For instance, I don’t understand why you included the homeward walk of shame as the beginning of chapter five. What did that walk add to the story? Why did you not just start it at Star Swirl’s house? It seemed like the perfect opportunity for a time-saving cutaway--there was even a chapter break--but you didn’t take it. Another instance of filler: the ridiculous verbiage Stasis spewed during his dramatic performance in chapter ten. It was funny for a bit (though it had other problems I need to talk about too) but it just went on for so long. By the end, I felt like you had made your point 700 words ago. This sort of thing just seems habitual to you, as if you’re just sort of jumping into scenes without an exit strategy and getting stuck there. Whether it’s including unnecessary and often redundant insights into Stasis’s thought process, or dialogue that stretches on without having a clear point, or scenes where it seems like you felt the need to account for every minute of the action, there’s a lot of filler here, and I honestly feel that Prodigy as it stands could be easily cut down to sixty or even thirty thousand words without sacrificing much content. Compare Prodigy’s wordcount to that of some other novels: The Hobbit, 95k; Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, 77k; Lolita, 112k; Madame Bovary, 118k. Of course, some books are longer, but my point should be clear: you can say a lot in a 120k if you try. Prodigy is not even trying. 100k in and Stasis finally has a friend. That is about all that has happened. Why is that? Because you haven’t cut out the filler.
Anyway, back to pacing. I recommend watching this episode of Penny Arcade, if you haven’t already, to get an idea of what “good” pacing generally entails. Pay attention especially to the part where they discuss the fact that the rules of good pacing are applicable at every level of a game, from the overall story arc, to individual scenes, to split-second game mechanics. I say pay attention to this, because the same can be said for literature: pacing applies not only to the overall arc but to individual scenes, paragraphs, and even sentences. Each scene in a story ought to work its way up to a miniature climax and resolution in pretty much the same way that the story as a whole ought to. With that in mind, maybe you can see how it’s a pretty bad mistake to let dialogue drag on past its point of usefulness, like for instance in chapter eleven, or to insert silly skits that don’t move the story forward, or... you get the point. Such things mess with the pacing of scenes and make them more of a chore to read.
What you have to do to correct these pacing imbalances is simply to choose your details and events carefully so that each thing you actually include in your story conveys something unique and appropriate to the scene. If it’s already been said, don’t say it again! (Unless the audience really needs to be reminded of it.) And a corollary: say only what you must, and leave implied whatever you can. (This is just a rewording of “show, don’t tell”.) Further, you need to choose your story events with one eye always looking forward to the final climax and resolution. Stories are not Skyrim, and they should not have side-quests. Stay on topic and tell the story at hand!
One more point about pacing, and I mention this specifically because it’s relevant if you want to actually hook the readers you manage to lure into checking out your story: the pacing in the first chapter is quite off-kilter. You begin with an action scene, and that is all well and good. But even so, you spend the entire chapter inside Stasis’s head. You spend long paragraphs writing hundreds of words that can be boiled down to “Stasis was afraid”. It’s an exposition dump. And it’s right there in the first half of the beginning chapter, which is a horrible place for an exposition dump. First you arouse the readers’ interest, then you make them learn the rules of your world. Not the other way around.
...Right, back to the fisking.
>Nit had oft-mentioned the soothing effects of cider, he recalled, but Star Swirl would not even let them serve punch.
Another off-topic ending to a paragraph. Remove this sentence from the end of the paragraph, and see how much more consistent it is.
>Instead, his nose was assaulted with the nauseatingly green scents of fresh-cut asparagus and broccoli and lettuce
Another instance of cutting suddenly from objective narration to subjective evaluation. After this sentence, you actually go back to objective narration again before finishing the paragraph in subjective evaluation once more. This is confusing to readers!
Okay, that’s enough of that. Let’s move on. You will notice I’ve brought up issues of connotations a few times. I have also complained loudly about the lack of consistent separation between the narrator and Stasis. These problems, combined with the general lack of discrimination in detail selection, have left Prodigy with a most unfortunate flaw--the lack of any kind of discernible tone.
Certainly you know what tone means for a story. Well, Prodigy has none. Good pacing is often a prerequisite for achieving an effective tone, of course, but it’s more than that. If you want a consistent tone, you’ve got to stop playing around with words. I mean shit like this: “he slowed down from a gallop to a trot as weariness and wariness began to replace the adrenaline and stark terror.” There’s no excuse for that kind of frivolity in a serious scene. You’re playing around with the words here, instead of trying to tell a story with them. And you do this a lot, not always so obviously or extremely, but you do it in subtler ways throughout Prodigy, and I suspect you know exactly when you are doing it as you are writing. Well, if you want any kind of consistent tone, you’ve got to stop it.
Next, I have some issues with Stasis’s and and Starswirl’s characterizations.
Let me begin with Starswirl, since he’s easier. He sometimes says and does things that just seem way more immature than his age would suggest. Is he an old fogy stuck in his ways, or is he one of those adults who never really grew up? The two seem inconsistent, yet I see glimpses of one at one time and one at another.
Stasis is harder. Most of my complaints, I think, come from the way you’ve tried to handle writing him as an evil character. I don’t think I understand how a person can consistently think of himself as evil and still praise himself. I don’t understand how a person can think of himself as evil, and praise evil, and still condemn others for behaving in ways he considers evil (as Stasis constantly does in condemning ponies, especially Starswirl). Most importantly, I don’t understand why Stasis would think of himself as evil at all. As a changeling prince, wouldn’t he think of changeling ways as being not only natural and beautiful but morally upright? Why would he think of the ways he was raised in as being evil? This problem has made my head spin around and around and I don’t see a solution in sight. And because of it, it seems like every time Stasis opens his mouth some new absurdity comes forth. (Where does he get political concepts like “the public” and “fascist”?) What, exactly, does he want? Power? Then why would he be proud of not working to attain it? It’s hard for me even to express how confusing I find Stasis as a character, because he’s so full of contradiction that I have a hard time saying anything concrete about him.
While we’re on characters, I liked Jack, but Major is irritatingly flat for a main sidekick, and Goldie was not much better until the last chapter.
I did not care for most of the dialogue in Prodigy. A large proportion of it read like poor attempts at comedic screenwriting. (Speaking of which, I noticed that Prodigy has a [Comedy] tag: why?) It just feels to me like you had very little substance in mind for the scenes where your characters speak to one another, and so you filled up the empty space with jokes, which were mostly... ehhhh, not really funny, sorry. And again, I really don’t understand the [Comedy] tag. If you really want Prodigy to be a comedy fic, well, that... would be really baffling to me, considering what it is right now. The comedic bits just seem like irrelevant filler. There’s nothing funny at all about the main conflict, which is what’s most basic in a comedy fic. And simply adding jokes to a story does not entitle one to use the [Comedy] tag for it. So. Myah.
As for strengths, since I’ve been pretty negative so far, I thought the verbal stories told by Starswirl and Jack were high points. For all my complaints about your wordiness, I can’t say that “purple” descriptions are among them--though you do often use the wrong word for the situation, and the wrong word often also happens to be a long word. I’m genuinely interested in your changeling headcanon, so worldbuilding is a plus. Major and Goldie finally became more interesting, and I really liked the subtlety of how you implied that Jack was destitute and starving without feeling the need to point it out. Some scenes, such as the disc golf scene, were well paced and came near to being gripping, and I feel that by and large you’ve gotten better in regard to pacing as you’ve gone on.
One final point: please consider double-spacing your paragraphs. Especially for a story as long as Prodigy, those spaces are lifesavers. Walls of text can be extremely discouraging to read.
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Well, I think I covered all the major points at least. Like I said, this is the first fic I’ve reviewed that was over about 50k, so it’s been a challenge for me. I fully expect to have left out important things I could have mentioned, or to have forgotten something important, or to have conveyed my meaning unclearly, or to have committed any number of reviewing sins. So, really, I consider this review won’t be truly complete until we’ve talked it over for a while. But, now you have my initial thoughts. And that’s a place to start.
Till we meet again,
--Kierkegaard, WRITE’s Christian Brutal Existentialist
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First, to anyone who is not Kierkegaard and who is reading this: feel free to join the discussion and tell us what you think. That’s why it’s taking place in the comments, after all, and not PMs. Just keep things respectful.
Now, my actual reply:
Hmm…interesting. Well, first off, I want to thank you very kindly for taking the time to read, consider, and review my story. It’s not something you really ‘had’ to do, and I greatly appreciate it.
Before I get into any specifics, I want to say something about reviews and reviewing in general. And that is this: as I’ve read and reviewed more stories, and as I’ve gotten more involved in the fandom and writing in general, I’ve become more and more convinced that storytelling is an art, not a science. Or to put it another way: it’s far more subjective than it is objective.
That’s not to say that I believe that EVERYTHING is subjective; that would probably defeat the purpose of reviewing entirely. I definitely believe that stories can be better told in some ways than others, and that one can make ‘mistakes’ beyond simple grammatical or mechanical errors. However, one of the tasks any author has to undergo when being reviewed is the inverse of a reviewer’s: he has to distinguish, not so much between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ criticism (though some criticisms are just plain wrong, this is true) but between genuine mistakes in the story, and areas that are more…blurry. Errors that are more reflections of the reviewer’s preferences than actual, ironclad mistakes.
All of that to say this: I take everything you’ve said in in this review very, very seriously, and will use it as best as I am able to improve myself as an author. So please don’t take offence if I disagree with some of your assessments, or feel that they’re more subjective views on your part than they are absolute rules that I need to conform to. If you make a genuinely good point and I wrongfully disagree, then I’ll have to face the consequences of that in my writing…but conversely, I have to be careful not to take every criticism I receive at face-value and feel the need to totally change my writing because of it. Down that road lies a lot of unnecessary work and angst.
Now, on to business. First, I am already deep in the process of rewriting the long description, will definitely run it by some people first, and hopefully will have it up soon.
Second, pacing. Pacing, pacing, pacing. Pacing has not been kind to me, nor I to pacing. Much as this paragraph drags on, its redundancies apparent, so, too, does my pacing.
Now, I think that subjectivity applies to pacing at least as much as it does to anything else. Some people can’t stand anything short of a thriller pace; others have much, much higher tolerance for winding conversations and detailed descriptions and suchlike. For example, some people love fast pacing and have little use for world-building; such people should probably never read Lord of the Rings, because they are clearly not the intended audience.
I too would probably be just fine if Tolkien had wanted to cut the entire section with Tom Bombadil and perhaps use those words to flesh out the battle for Helm’s Deep a bit; other people adore every minutiae of world-building and would have cried out in anguish if Tolkien had cut a single word.
I think the important things regarding pacing are probably consistency – which is also somewhat subjective, since pacing can vary a bit, but you don’t want to upset the reader’s expectations unnecessarily – and relevance, which is tied into plot. Every part of the story should advance the plot, or develop the characters, or set the tone, or do something integral like that that really develops the story. The best scenes often do all of these at once.
However, I feel like some people take this too far – as in, shorter is always better, and one should always accomplish these goals in the shortest possible space. I’m…not sure I entirely agree with that. For example, Fallout: Equestria only became the behemoth it is because of the author’s indulgence in the plot equivalent of sidequests. However, besides being thematically appropriate, these sections of the story pretty much always advanced the overall story arc, the character development, and certainly the world-building in some way. Some people think that many of these should have been cut out or reduced in length; I would disagree.
Or, to use another example, I believe it was the tenth chapter of Eyes Without a Face where the author spent an 1,500 words telling that: the protagonist killed a bunch of guys while falling from a carriage, rappelled onto a lamppost, and was saved. Not SHOWED, TOLD. In first person present tense.
And I loved it. The pacing was slow as dirt, obviously, and the entire thing was very surreal, and the prose was often incredibly redundant…but that was just the style. Slow pacing, strange perspective, use of metaphor and telling to the point that everything takes on a dreamlike tone. Some people would probably despise that style, but I did not.
Or, in the latest party chapter: could I have covered the critical points in a much shorter amount of time? Absolutely. It doesn’t take 8,500 words to show that Pierce is now talking with Abra (the only actual plot-driving point that I can think of in the whole chapter), or that Goldie’s mother was killed by changelings, or that Stasis now has a bit more empathy for her, or that Star Swirl is a bit more gregarious than he used to be. If brevity were my primary goal, I’m sure I could have done all that in less than two thousand words. Less than one, even.
But where would be the fun in that? Prodigy is essentially a bildungsroman, or coming-of-age story, not a thriller. Pacing is an important consideration in any story, but less so in some than others. In this case, I want readers not so much to focus on the destination of Prodigy, as to enjoy the ride.
I say all of that to point out that at no point in the past/future of Prodigy did/do I intend to make things particularly fast-paced or edge-of-your-seat. Not only do I feel like that would be somewhat inappropriate for the subject of this story, it’s also just not really my style. I am and probably never will be a thriller writer.
However…this story has some serious pacing issues, yes. I feel that these are mostly plot-related; I don’t know that paragraphs and sentences need to be extensively cut – as you seem to – but definitely on a macro, scene level, things moved very slowly until recently. This is because – and this is quite possibly the biggest mistake I think I made with Prodigy – I did not outline the story ahead of time. I knew the beginning, and I knew the end; that was all. I did not even have a clear grasp of the central external conflict of the story until several chapters in. And if I could rewrite it now, I would introduce Goldie much earlier (to give her time for more character development), as well as the plot-driving conflict with Pierce. I would try to make sure – as I’m trying to do now – that every chapter moves the plot and character development along in a clearly discernible way.
Now, my third point may be a long one, because it encompasses many of your points and is I think a critical issue with this review. That is: I get the strong impression that you did not like Stasis as a character.
This is not a passing point. This is not the same thing as, say, disliking the world-building bits, or Jack’s characterization, or the plot. This story is a bildungsroman. This story IS Stasis. Everything hinges upon him, including, to a large degree, the reader’s appreciation for Prodigy as a whole.
I’m going to tie this in to your issues with the narrative point of view. You discuss how I should separate the narrator from Stasis, but…the narrator IS Stasis, essentially. The ‘camera’ is about as close to Stasis’ own eyeballs as you can get without being straight-up first person. You discuss objective versus subjective assessments, but…if there were a hundred bottles on a wall, and Stasis thought that there were a thousand, I would say that there were a thousand.
There was not a single point in this book where I purposively tried to make things ‘objective’ or let my own POV shine through; even in many of the word choices that you object to, the reason those words were chosen is because they were my best approximation of what Stasis would choose. He loves to alliterate; therefore, there is alliteration (some of these may violate the tone of the sentence, this is true, and probably a mistake on my part). He’s highly intelligent and has received education from a number of sources; therefore, he often uses large words that far outside his age group. This is both part of his characterization, and the humor. (Ever read Calvin and Hobbes? It’s in that vein.)
So…I’m not sure what I could do to ‘fix’ the narration. From the very first word, it’s all Stasis’ perspective with as little outside influence as I can get away with, so I’m not sure how I can make it more clear. And as for what you said about the narrator always being clearly separate from the POV character, well…I guess I disagree? You spend a lot of time on this point, but I can’t think of anything better to say than ‘I disagree.’ I think narrative can and should be handled in different ways for different stories, and I feel that inserting my narration into Prodigy would destroy its style as well as much of the humor.
Which actually brings me to another issue that I feel may be related: the humor. Not only did you not appreciate the humor, you don’t even feel that the story is a comedy. Not only do you not feel that the story is a comedy, but a few points you brought up made me wonder if you even ‘got’ the humor at all.
The humor is mostly driven by Stasis’ character and his perspective. Again, in a similar manner to Calvin in Calvin and Hobbes, Stasis is a very odd little fellow who has a very different take on the world than…well, almost anyone, pony or changeling like. If you don’t like Stasis or the very close perspective that the story takes, then I can certainly see why you wouldn’t get/like the humor, and if you don’t get/like the humor, then I guess that I could understand why you wouldn’t think that it’s a comedy.
As for tone…maybe I DON’T know what tone is? The entire story is told from a ‘realistic’ perspective; there is never any slapstic or absurd comedy in it. It’s mostly lighthearted, with the humor, again, derived from Stasis’ perspective; there are darker moments, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not a comedy, or violate any rules of tone that I’m aware of. Virtually any longer comedy is going to have more serious moments, just as more serious works will (if they’re good, anyway) contain some jest to lighten the mood at times. A comedy is the preponderance of one over the other, and the majority of the book is written to make one laugh as it tells the story. Whether it achieves this objective is obviously very subjective. And perhaps I do switch from lighthearted to serious too quickly. To say that it doesn’t have a tone, though…I’m not sure about that.
Anyway…my point is: you don’t seem to like Stasis. You don’t like the perspective. You either don’t get or simply don’t like the humor.
It comes as absolutely no surprise to me, then, that you wouldn’t like this story. Those are basically the heart, the lungs, and the brain; take those away, and what’s left? Skin and bones. If I made Stasis into Jack and pulled the perspective far away and changed the genre to pure tragedy, this would no longer be Prodigy. I would have no interest in writing it, and I suspect many of my current readers would have no interest in reading it.
Or, to put it another way: I don’t really take objection with most of these critical points as I think that they’re not the real problem. I think that maybe this story is just not for you; you’re not the intended audience. As far as I could tell, the only things that I could do to ‘fix’ it as regards the main character’s characterization and the perspective and the humor would make it into a different story entire; one that may be more amenable to you, but not to me, unfortunately.
Or, yet another way: I feel that the crux of some of your main points are more subjective preferences on your part than they are actual flaws in the story. Should I have taken some time to try to explain WHY Stasis considers evil? Probably; I might discuss this more in a minute. Is Stasis considering himself evil at all a flaw? I certainly hope not, because it’s a critical part of his characterization, and therefore the entire story. Should I have taken the perspective farther out/made the narrator a clearly separate actor? Uh…no, either I’m not understanding what you’re saying, or you’re just not ‘getting’ what the story’s about in the first place, or I just disagree. Should I have focused on the drama rather than the humor? If I did, this would be a very different story.
Okay. That was longwinded, sorry. Even in my comments, pacing is an issue. Now, a few more comments.
Characters can act differently at different times, just as real people do. Star Swirl may be serious and gruff sometimes, lighthearted and jocular at others. The former gives way more to the latter as the story progresses; this is part of my attempt at character development for him. If this is done poorly, then that is certainly my fault; however, I don’t think that the two different sides of his personality are actually conflicting, or if they are, I think that it’s still very possible to have both of those in the same person.
About Stasis: yes, people can and do sometimes consider themselves as evil. I know of such people, even if none of them are my ‘friends,’ per se. This is not the norm, obviously, but it can happen. And normally they feel ashamed or at least ‘bad’ about such a recognition; the fact that Stasis DOESN’T feel bad is, again, a major source of humor that I think maybe you just don’t ‘get.’ The hypocrisy he shows in criticizing others for their evilness is also part of the humor. Stasis actually celebrates his wickedness; I try to imply that he seems to think of himself as something of a story villain. I’ve wanted to hint more strongly at WHY for quite some time, but haven’t had a good opportunity; I guess this is a fault on my part. But the fact that you took this point so seriously and were baffled by it, and seemed to not see any of the humor, surprises me.
Him having heard of ‘the public’ and ‘fascist’ are not out of the realm of possibility for him, and are perhaps a twist-of-the-arm on the realm of probability in the name of the rule of funny. Not sure what you’re talking about as far as Stasis not being proud to work towards gaining power. As far him being full of contradiction, well, either you don’t ‘get’ the character, or I don’t ‘get’ where you’re coming from. I’ve never had anyone respond to him in such a way, so I suppose that just confuses me a bit.
Major and Goldie could both use improvement (especially Major, this is true); I’m working on that.
Glad you liked Jack and the two monologues, although I find it somewhat interesting, since he/they’re easily the least relevant of any of the points you mentioned. I could easily cut him and them from the story without affecting the plot hardly at all, and improve the pacing that you mentioned. Or, to look at it another way: while you seem to dislike many of the core elements of the story, you enjoy those characters and sections that most different/extraneous to it. This also leads me to believe that this is simply not the right story for you.
Not liking the dialogue…well, considering how much of this story is comedic dialogue, I can certainly see how that would hurt your enjoyment of the story as well. I wonder, though: is your dislike because it’s actually bad, or because it’s children with limited vocabulary and syntax talking? If it’s the former, then I apologize. It’s the best I can do, and I’m glad that others enjoy it, at least; it’s not a total waste.
Oh, and I see now where you mention that there’s ‘nothing funny about the main conflict.’ Are you saying that some conflicts are inherently not funny? An alien invasion can be dead serious drama or a slapstick comedy.
If you’re saying that the main conflict is not funny because the stakes are shown to be serious, or because Stasis takes it seriously, well, I suppose that makes sense. However, the ways in which Stasis goes about resolving the issue are almost entirely filled with humor; he never decides to murder Pierce in his sleep, for example. (And if he did, it would probably be a comedy of errors, or something of that nature.) The fact that you don’t LIKE the humor doesn’t mean that it wasn’t there. Anyway, perhaps this is simply a disagreement on what makes a comedy, or maybe I’m simply misunderstanding your position.
I was really familiar with the idea of double-spacing paragraphs before I started this story; I’ve always indented. However, I’m considering doing a story-wide edit (not a rewrite, just an edit) once I’m done to change things like that. The only reason I haven’t done it with later chapters is for consistency.
Anyway…to sum it up: I almost totally agree with your criticisms regarding the story descriptions and pacing. I’m saddened that you disliked Stasis’ characterization, the perspective I chose, and the story’s humor; however, I feel like these are (mostly) interrelated subjective issues on your part; I just don’t feel like you ‘get’ the story I was trying to tell. And I’m not sure I get what you mean about there being no tone, but if you’re saying that there should be only lighthearted humor or serious drama, then I think I disagree (though it’s an issue I’ve considered as I’ve been writing the story).
However, I’m glad that there are certain parts you enjoyed, so it wasn’t a total uphill slog for you. I’m also very thankful that you took the time to write this review; again, I may not agree with every point you made, but it’s certainly given me something to think about. It’s good to be challenged, I think, and forced to think about your story in ways that you haven’t before; about what makes it what it is, and the difference between ‘changing’ it and ‘improving’ it.
Appreciate it, man. Peace out. ~ Sable
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Hahaha You are definitely the first person to say he was in awe of my plotting skills. I've had people tell me they love the characters, and the dialogue, and the humor, and the poetic prose I use in certain sections, and the world-building, and other things, but never the plot until now. I hope the trend continues!
Good fanfic, few upvotes... buried. Good thing we have groups to fing gems like this one!
Alondro sends Mrs. Animal a note, "I last saw your husband sliding down the throat of one Grimfang the Diabolical, a rather unpleasant black dragon who'd sponsored the feast. I would explain in more detal, but I must write several hundred letters to other ponies who were... 'invited'... to the dragons' feast."
Many hundreds of years later, the parents of both certain orange farm mare and a timid yellow pegasus also received similar invitations...
Huh, so Goldie was the filly that Stasis almost-but-not-quite fed off of way back in Chapter 1. Well, at least Stasis' heart seems to have grown a full size this day and he's being a little bit more cordial to Goldie, especially with what must have been a cute dance. Which is good on Stasis' part, because he needs to make friends and be more socially outgoing to give himself a form of protection now that it seems Pierce and Abra have finally met and communicated with one another.
Star Swirl honestly seems more and more like that one cool old grandpa that lots of people have.
SOMEONE PICK UP THE PHONE 'CAUSE I CALLED IT.