Writing Discussion Thread

[azontr]

I wrote a short segment (rewrote) for the first part of chapter 1 of my story, and was wondering if I could get some feedback on how I could improve it:

Spoiler

The boy’s eyes lay wide in a cold, desolate space, smoke and ash consuming his vision like a wildfire. A lack of oxygen within the dust-filled plaza drained him of all life, making him feel unbearably cold… As if he was trapped under a pile of snow that he couldn’t dig himself out of, acting more akin to a prison than any actual home.

The boy made an attempt to dig himself out, but his efforts were met with an unsurprising failure. The land itself was draining him of life, like a tumor slowly killing its host, pinning him lifelessly to the ground as he squirmed for survival..

He felt as if the land itself was taking joy in his suffering, the more he tried to squirm to safety. That had to be it, as with each attempt he made to escape, each and every desperate struggle was met with overwhelming…

…failure.

As if the Country itself was a living Cancer that took absolute ecstasy… from torturing its inhabitants. And this place… was his world.

 

[Another_Council]

It is my personal opinion on the matter, but try and use a different synonym for 'the boy' on the second line, where it says 'the boy made an attempt'. Maybe change it to something like 'the child'. I find it a bit annoying when an identifier is repeated constantly. Also, try and read it out loud to see how it sounds.

 

[Lukewoesal007]

The boy’s eyes lay wide in a cold, desolate space, smoke and ash consuming his vision like a wildfire. A lack of oxygen within the dust-filled plaza drained him of all life, making him feel unbearably cold… As if he was trapped under a pile of snow that he couldn’t dig himself out of, acting more akin to a prison than any actual home.

The boy made an attempt to dig himself out, but his efforts were met with an unsurprising failure. The land itself was draining him of life, like a tumor slowly killing its host, pinning him lifelessly to the ground as he squirmed for survival..

He felt as if the land itself was taking joy in his suffering, the more he tried to squirm to safety. That had to be it, as with each attempt he made to escape, each and every desperate struggle was met with overwhelming…

…failure.

As if the Country itself was a living Cancer that took absolute ecstasy… from torturing its inhabitants. And this place… was his world.

I agree with what Council has said previously, though I think that advice could extend the entire excerpt. In general, the most glaring flaw I see in your writing is repetition. For instance, you use the phrase "he couldn’t dig himself out of" as part of a simile at the end of the first section, but you then use the same phrase in a literal sense in the very next sentence.

You also have a tendency to use similes where metaphors or direct/literal imagery would suffice:
-"As if he was trapped under a pile of snow"
-"like a tumor slowly killing its host"
-"as if the land itself was taking joy in his suffering"
-"As if the Country itself was a living Cancer"

The second and fourth examples I listed in particular could be linked together into an extended metaphor. What you're doing currently is likening the "land" to a cancer twice without elaborating much into why that is the case. Similes are helpful for aligning unfamiliar concepts with familiar ones (thus making it easier for the audience to understand the story), but I think you're relying too much on these connections to real-life concepts instead of directly explaining what the "land" does and how/why it drains the energy of "the boy".

 

[azontr]

. In general, the most glaring flaw I see in your writing is repetition

Valid. I'm very prone to repeating phrases instead of coming up with new things since it's easier to use the same phrase in a different way than to come up with an entirely different way to say it.

 

[Another_Council]

This is just advice in general when trying to describe a scene or the environment, but try to place yourself into the scene or wherever. Note everything around you and how it would feel or look like to you. I found this technique extremely useful when it comes to my writing.

 

[azontr]

I'll take this advice to heart and try rewriting the segment later.

 

[blatgotyahat]

I'll take this advice to heart and try rewriting the segment later.

Bro has no life and comments every minute on this site, holy

 

[azontr]

Bro has no life and comments every minute on this site, holy

My honest reaction

 

[blatgotyahat]

My honest reaction

My honest reaction

 

[azontr]

 

[azontr]

I rewrote the above segment a bit, thoughts?

Spoiler

The boy's eyes were slammed shut in the desolation of his hometown, unable to peer through the clouds of ash and dust that surrounded him like a wildfire. The lack of oxygen was sapping him of his strength rapidly, making him feel unbearably cold, as if he was trapped under a pile of snow he couldn't dig himself out of... Chaining him down.

He scratched at his neck and collarbone as he desperately squirmed for air, begging his body to move as ash choked him. Yet it only amounted to hollow, desperate wriggles against the rough ground beneath, his flesh refusing to comply with his plea.

The more he tried to helplessly crawl away, the more pinned down the child felt. It was almost as if he the more he tried to fight... The more the land beneath chained him down, wrapping him in its ropes of smoke and dust. As if it was taking some kind of sick pleasure in watching him crawl, and to see his short-lived passion die.

 

[Rakih_Elyan]

I rewrote the above segment a bit, thoughts?

Spoiler

The boy's eyes were slammed shut in the desolation of his hometown, unable to peer through the clouds of ash and dust that surrounded him like a wildfire. The lack of oxygen was sapping him of his strength rapidly, making him feel unbearably cold, as if he was trapped under a pile of snow he couldn't dig himself out of... Chaining him down.

He scratched at his neck and collarbone as he desperately squirmed for air, begging his body to move as ash choked him. Yet it only amounted to hollow, desperate wriggles against the rough ground beneath, his flesh refusing to comply with his plea.

The more he tried to helplessly crawl away, the more pinned down the child felt. It was almost as if he the more he tried to fight... The more the land beneath chained him down, wrapping him in its ropes of smoke and dust. As if it was taking some kind of sick pleasure in watching him crawl, and to see his short-lived passion die.

This is more coherent and not repetitive.

You potrayed the character emotions pretty good.

 

[azontr]

The Power System I've devised for my verse, or at least the base explanation which will be expanded upon once I continue writing the story:

Spoiler: Elements and Elementals

• Elements: The "code" of all physical reality, existing before the world and will continue to exist after it. The Elements can be surmised as the physical building blocks of reality; Things like Hydrogen, Nitrogen, Oxygen, etc. But on the further level, the Elements make up everything, whether it be physical, non-physical, spiritual, and the Elements define the fabric of the mind and thought itself. Every human mind is composed of Elements.

• Elementals: Sometimes referred to as "Deus" or "Constellations", Elementals are abstract beings that can freely channel the Elements into themselves. The existence of the Elementals dictates the flow of our reality, as they maintain the Elements that make up the universe; the Elemental of Fire controls all forms of heat in the universe, the Elemental of Water controls all liquids, etc. Without the Elementals, the universe could not exist. Elementals cannot physically interact with the universe, as they are far to large of an existence to enter into our reality without severe consequences, for they embody the very building blocks of our reality in their entirety. Instead, they exist in a separate world known as "Aether", in which they can live freely and happily without having to interfere with our reality.

• Elementalists: A person who has the unique talent of channeling the power of Elements into themselves via communing with an Elemental and making the Elemental's power their own. An Elementalist can manipulate the very fabric of matter to achieve downright impossible feats. In the modern day, Elementalists are quite common among the populace, anyone can channel the Elements into themselves in one way or another whether minor or major. But only truly talented individuals can manipulate the Elements to outright defy the laws of physics freely. An Elementalist can channel power only through their mind. The mind of an Elementalist is their greatest weapon and the method through which they channel the almighty power of an Elemental into the physical world. Every Elementalist has a different methodology through which they may utilize the Elements; Some may utilize physical stimuli, while some may utilize mental triggers that incite great emotion to channel the Elements. The common factor in all of this is that the Elementalists powers will always be dictates by their "methodology" and their way of viewing the world, you can only truly channel the Elements into yourself if you truly believe you are capable. Belief is the main weapon.

 

[Rikimarox2]

Since this is a writing thread, I'll just vent out some of my frustration here;

When I write, I just forget the most basic ass words. Like, words that I 100% know (Words like "Folded", "Leaped"), I forget about them the moment I write, and instead write the scene in the most primitive way possible. I even visualize the scene in my head, and yet I still can't exactly put the exact word that I wanted. Thankfully, reading books made this problem a bit more manageable.

 

[azontr]

Since this is a writing thread, I'll just vent out some of my frustration here;

When I write, I just forget the most basic ass words. Like, words that I 100% know (Words like "Folded", "Leaped"), I forget about them the moment I write, and instead write the scene in the most primitive way possible. I even visualize the scene in my head, and yet I still can't exactly put the exact word that I wanted. Thankfully, reading books made this problem a bit more manageable.

Learn Engrish.

 

[Shmooply]

I am once again using this thread to dump my writing ideas in, just so I don't forget them and can revisit them later when I'm bored or don't like what I'm currently writing.
Are there any stories that are set in a mostly-realistic bronze age, or any stories based off of the people and events that happened during that era? I've been reading up on it, and it occured to me that it's a pretty underrated part of humanity's story, which sucks because there's so many interesting cultures you can take inspiration from for whatever faction you're making for your setting. I've recently learned about the Phrygians, and their large underground city that's made out of tuff of all things, and was built underneath an almost inhospitable piece of land. Then we have the Sumerians, who wrote the oldest story we know yet. Then there's also the collapse of the Bronze Age, which itself is filled with even more interesting events and cultures, such as a seafaring tribe so mysterious that everyone literally just refers to them as Sea People. This entire puzzle piece of humanity's history has so much untapped potential it's unreal.

 

[azontr]

I hear Sea People, I say W.

 

[Another_Council]

Y'know, ever since Mother's day has happened recently (and my own appreciation for my mom too) I've been thinking about some ideas for a story. It's more of an idea in my head but the basic premise is all revolving around a pregnant mother trying to find a safe place for her child. Don't have an idea for a setting, how long the story should be, or anything. Just an idea floating in my mind.

 

[azontr]

Y'know, ever since Mother's day has happened recently (and my own appreciation for my mom too) I've been thinking about some ideas for a story. It's more of an idea in my head but the basic premise is all revolving around a pregnant mother trying to find a safe place for her child. Don't have an idea for a setting, how long the story should be, or anything. Just an idea floating in my mind.

I've tried stories akin to that before, but never actually gone through with it. (But then again I usually don't go through with a lot of my abilities)

 

[ElajRuengies]

The problem I'm running into when setting up the Power Levels in advance is remembering to give early folks "Oomph" even though they aren't strong by absolute terms At All.

Like, it doesn't matter that I- the author- know dollar store Godzilla exists somewhere out in the deep oceans, because the focal character hasn't been to the deep oceans. He's lived in the same town his whole life so far, so this local asshole is going to be a big deal to him. But trying to make a local asshole a big deal when dollar store Godzilla exists feels fake.

It'd probably be easier if I was writing as I go and started from the Bottom-Up, since I'd be just as surprised as the characters when someone new shows up, makes a big hole, and raises the Power Ceiling, but my brain doesn't work that way.

 

[Peppersalt43]

The problem I'm running into when setting up the Power Levels in advance is remembering to give early folks "Oomph" even though they aren't strong by absolute terms At All.

There are a lot of video games where the MC has to fight an enemy they're meant to lose against. Elden Ring and Sekiro has this for example. After all, an antagonist doesn't have to be powerful, they just have to be a threat and maybe for your characters, this first antagonist seems like a hurdle to pass.

Sekiro does this amazingly. Genichiro (The first boss) seems like an unbeatable obstacle at first then the next time you meet him despite having new attacks, he's actually beatable due to the MC having experience against his attacks and upgrades to match before this encounter, and then in the end when he's supposedly at his powerful he's an utter joke who's only purpose is to lead to the true final boss

 

[Pepsiman25th]

Something I'm working on

 

[azontr]

Spoiler: The tale of the shackled puppet

"You see, the puppet, made of wood and dust, was bought on another's payroll.

Motionless and unfeeling, the puppet had no objections.

The puppets new puppeteer dressed her in black and white garb, and caged her wooden limbs in tiny handcuffs.

Even though in his heart he knew she could not move, a pathological desire arose within him. He desperately did not want her to escape.

This confused the puppet- How could she, a puppet, ever escape from the hands of her owner? It was unthinkable.

The owner talked to the puppet everyday as if she could answer, and within her small, custom-made holding cell, he would dance her around on strings, completing whatever daily chores he saw fit.

The man believed that the puppet was someone close to him. He knew that he was lying to himself.

For years, he continued to hold the puppet in captivity. Whenever she was broken, he would fix her. Whenever she was dirty, he would clean her.

The puppet had no objections to this.

After many years, the puppeteer grew old, and brittle. But everyday, he made sure to play with his captive puppet, and he took care of her.

The puppeteer said this to the puppet, "Why do you torture me so?"

He wished, for all these years, that the puppet would speak to him.

He cried out, "I have given all that I can to keep you with me!"

He was given no answer.

He cried out once more, "If only you would speak to me... if only..."

He was given no answer.

The old puppeteer let out a cold howl of indignation. He knew that who he believed to be his dearest one was all but a puppet he'd bought when he was younger, dancing her cold, wooden body around on thin threads of despair.

The puppeteer let out a cold cough.

His body sank against the walls of his home, and he let go of the strings he'd kept hold of for so long. His breathing went silent... and his heart stilled its beating.

The house was silent.

The puppet had no objections to this."

 

[YungManzi]

Y'know, given the whole Submersible tragedy, I learned a lot more about the bottom of the ocean. I kinda want to wright about deep sea ocean warfare. Like it's really interesting that just traversing that place is far more challenging than space.

Plus I've never heard of large scale epic deep sea warfare. At least not like with space stories.

 

[ZoroNotZolo]

Spoiler: The tale of the shackled puppet

"You see, the puppet, made of wood and dust, was bought on another's payroll.

Motionless and unfeeling, the puppet had no objections.

The puppets new puppeteer dressed her in black and white garb, and caged her wooden limbs in tiny handcuffs.

Even though in his heart he knew she could not move, a pathological desire arose within him. He desperately did not want her to escape.

This confused the puppet- How could she, a puppet, ever escape from the hands of her owner? It was unthinkable.

The owner talked to the puppet everyday as if she could answer, and within her small, custom-made holding cell, he would dance her around on strings, completing whatever daily chores he saw fit.

The man believed that the puppet was someone close to him. He knew that he was lying to himself.

For years, he continued to hold the puppet in captivity. Whenever she was broken, he would fix her. Whenever she was dirty, he would clean her.

The puppet had no objections to this.

After many years, the puppeteer grew old, and brittle. But everyday, he made sure to play with his captive puppet, and he took care of her.

The puppeteer said this to the puppet, "Why do you torture me so?"

He wished, for all these years, that the puppet would speak to him.

He cried out, "I have given all that I can to keep you with me!"

He was given no answer.

He cried out once more, "If only you would speak to me... if only..."

He was given no answer.

The old puppeteer let out a cold howl of indignation. He knew that who he believed to be his dearest one was all but a puppet he'd bought when he was younger, dancing her cold, wooden body around on thin threads of despair.

The puppeteer let out a cold cough.

His body sank against the walls of his home, and he let go of the strings he'd kept hold of for so long. His breathing went silent... and his heart stilled its beating.

The house was silent.

The puppet had no objections to this."

Edgar Allen Poe vibes.

 

[Pepsiman25th]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FnetJWesUpo1nXFeFRK-t2ix_bNqsA5lR-oH7ZWf5oM/edit?usp=sharing Can I get some opinions on this villain backstory I made?

 

[Deidalius]

Spoiler: The tale of the shackled puppet

"You see, the puppet, made of wood and dust, was bought on another's payroll.

Motionless and unfeeling, the puppet had no objections.

The puppets new puppeteer dressed her in black and white garb, and caged her wooden limbs in tiny handcuffs.

Even though in his heart he knew she could not move, a pathological desire arose within him. He desperately did not want her to escape.

This confused the puppet- How could she, a puppet, ever escape from the hands of her owner? It was unthinkable.

The owner talked to the puppet everyday as if she could answer, and within her small, custom-made holding cell, he would dance her around on strings, completing whatever daily chores he saw fit.

The man believed that the puppet was someone close to him. He knew that he was lying to himself.

For years, he continued to hold the puppet in captivity. Whenever she was broken, he would fix her. Whenever she was dirty, he would clean her.

The puppet had no objections to this.

After many years, the puppeteer grew old, and brittle. But everyday, he made sure to play with his captive puppet, and he took care of her.

The puppeteer said this to the puppet, "Why do you torture me so?"

He wished, for all these years, that the puppet would speak to him.

He cried out, "I have given all that I can to keep you with me!"

He was given no answer.

He cried out once more, "If only you would speak to me... if only..."

He was given no answer.

The old puppeteer let out a cold howl of indignation. He knew that who he believed to be his dearest one was all but a puppet he'd bought when he was younger, dancing her cold, wooden body around on thin threads of despair.

The puppeteer let out a cold cough.

His body sank against the walls of his home, and he let go of the strings he'd kept hold of for so long. His breathing went silent... and his heart stilled its beating.

The house was silent.

The puppet had no objections to this."

I love this. I will read it once you finish it. It captivated me!

 

[azontr]

Spoiler: The tale of the shackled puppet

"You see, the puppet, made of wood and dust, was bought on another's payroll.

Motionless and unfeeling, the puppet had no objections.

The puppets new puppeteer dressed her in black and white garb, and caged her wooden limbs in tiny handcuffs.

Even though in his heart he knew she could not move, a pathological desire arose within him. He desperately did not want her to escape.

This confused the puppet- How could she, a puppet, ever escape from the hands of her owner? It was unthinkable.

The owner talked to the puppet everyday as if she could answer, and within her small, custom-made holding cell, he would dance her around on strings, completing whatever daily chores he saw fit.

The man believed that the puppet was someone close to him. He knew that he was lying to himself.

For years, he continued to hold the puppet in captivity. Whenever she was broken, he would fix her. Whenever she was dirty, he would clean her.

The puppet had no objections to this.

After many years, the puppeteer grew old, and brittle. But everyday, he made sure to play with his captive puppet, and he took care of her.

The puppeteer said this to the puppet, "Why do you torture me so?"

He wished, for all these years, that the puppet would speak to him.

He cried out, "I have given all that I can to keep you with me!"

He was given no answer.

He cried out once more, "If only you would speak to me... if only..."

He was given no answer.

The old puppeteer let out a cold howl of indignation. He knew that who he believed to be his dearest one was all but a puppet he'd bought when he was younger, dancing her cold, wooden body around on thin threads of despair.

The puppeteer let out a cold cough.

His body sank against the walls of his home, and he let go of the strings he'd kept hold of for so long. His breathing went silent... and his heart stilled its beating.

The house was silent.

The puppet had no objections to this."

Spoiler: Part 2

"The puppet lay docile for many more years to come, no one coming to collect the body of her master.

Over time, she would watch him slowly rot, becoming merely a shell of his flesh.

The puppet had no objections to this.

The home, once well kept and clean for her sake, became dusty, fragile, and slowly fell apart.

The puppet, unfeeling and motionless, could do nothing about this. Nor did she desire to. After all, a mere puppet... did not have desires.

After many years, and after the body of her puppeteer had completely rotted away, a change was felt.

Her body plumped outward, and her previously wooden skin became full of life, albeit seemingly pale.

She swiftly became to large to fit in the miniature prison that her puppeteer had concocted, and she broke free from her shackles and tumbled to the ground.

The puppet called, "What is this?"

She had been suddenly given flesh.

A voice answered her, "You are a lucky, lucky puppet."

From the shadows emerged a man in a black suit with a yellow tie, his facial features obscured by a mask seemingly in the shape of a skull.

The puppet asked, "Who are you?"

The puppet tried to get up, but would only end up tripping on her own hair, which was long like ropes and as pale white as snow.

The Mysterious man answered, "I have come to observe, dear."

The puppet had no objections to this.

The puppet asked, "Why have I been granted flesh?"

The Mysterious man answered, "I do not know. Perhaps, your puppeteer loved you so dearly, deep in his soul... he granted you flesh after his death."

The body was fleeting, but the soul was immortal and undying.

The puppet asked once more, "What do I do now?"

The Mysterious man answered, "Whatever you shall desire. You no longer are chained."

The puppet pondered this. She was no longer made of wood. She was no longer attached to strings. Her puppeteers fleeting love had bestowed upon her life.

The puppet spoke, "I would rather remain chained up than this."

The Mysterious man tilted his head, "You desire imprisonment?"

The puppet nodded, "Please."

The Mysterious man shrugged. He had no objections to this."

 

[azontr]

I'm currently writing a psychological "horror" short story about a woman named Lilith, who is an egotistical perfectionist who believes herself to be a God due to her obsessively scheduled lifestyle, as she begins to become psychotic and becomes a serial murderer who slowly kills off her "friends" for failing to adapt to her obsessively cleanly lifestyle.

 

[Peppersalt43]

an egotistical perfectionist who believes herself to be a God due to her obsessively scheduled lifestyle

So uh, how exactly does being a perfectionist relate to being god?

 

[azontr]

So uh, how exactly does being a perfectionist relate to being god?

It relates in the way she believes herself to be "perfect" to the point she is above the average human to such an extent she considers herself to be a divine entity.

 

[KingTempest]

Just commenting here so I can get notifications since my watch button stopped doing it for me

 

[ZoroNotZolo]

I mentioned doing like a fantasy setting with a viking-like character named Unger Vald that finds himself in a military faction made by six kingdoms, and even dealing with a member who uses connections with higher-ups such as royal advisors to be kind of like a kingpin within the guild.

Within the guilds, I thought about the idea of mythics, characters that are so powerful that chances are if something is made up about a feat or accomplishment of theirs, there's a possibility of it being true. Basically, characters that that are so overpowered that achieving the things made in legends or myths about them wouldn't really be an issue for them.

I'm thinking the magic system would be mana, but the applications are based on the soul and personality of the individual. For instance, Unger Vald is pretty optimistic, but also has the bad habit of downplaying his own capabilities, struggling with his own ability to do things in comparison to his peers, and bottles up a lot of his frustrations with himself and even others. His mana ability manifests as something called "Breaking Point", which provides an almost infernal boost in power from extreme stress.

I think I've mentioned some of these ideas before in a previous post here.

 

[Deidalius]

I thought of sharing an old writing prompt here.

Liquid Happiness
In this world, every human is born with a limited amount of happiness they can feel in all of their life.
This means that they can run out of happiness.
If they run out of happiness they will not be able to feel happiness again for the rest of their lives.
In this world, happiness is a liquid and it can be stolen from others.
Liquid happiness can only be found in humans and can be transferred to others with or without consent.

 

[SlendVeny]

I don't insert philosophy into my writings I didn't even know people did that outside of powerscaling bait.

The only powerscaling bait I like is when characters tell another character their blow was only like X% as strong as another guy's blow.

 

[SlendVeny]

Personally, I've been thinking of an ability merely entitled "1% release" that just makes someone 1% better in a fight.

Also, I wrote out this character who's just absurdly strong in comparison to the MC(He's only like H8C and MHS), and is sort of an unfriendly rival he has to work with, and I'm planning to kill him off later, but then have a subplot where he can come back to life if he kills like a thousand demons, so he has a timeskip training arc in hell.

 

[ElajRuengies]

Miracle of miracles, I've finally stopped World Building for five minutes and actually gotten around to writing something for the start of my story.

Spoiler: 338 Words- Only Took Me 4 Months

Hell Country, Shit City, Area Code: **** You

In an ancient hole-in-the-wall establishment which couldn't decide on being either a bar or a diner, someone yells at me for the third time today. This by itself is not unusual.

The complainer this time is more than just loud though- even sitting down his height is apparent, as is the thickness of his neck, which is made all the more obvious as it strained from the clenching of his teeth. Something around him churns, as if the air itself is uneasy of his presence, and his voice almost causes the table to vibrate.

"Seriously, was your TV scavenged from a Goddamn dumpster?! I've missed half the ******* match from the thing buffering!"

My eyelids shut just in time to hide the pupils rolling in the deep, while the facial muscles underneath protest their continuous poor working conditions as my mouth is drawn into a tight, vaguely upwards-pointing crescent.

A "smile" one might call it, assuming they were feeling very generous and were also half blind.

"...I assure you the issue is not with the TV, and instead most probably has to do with the fact that everyone and their dog in a one hundred kilometer radius is tuned into one place to watch the same thing, and so the network is a little strained right now.

But don't worry, I'm sure if you keep yelling at me, that'll magically fix the problem."

Someone calls my name somewhere, and so I hurry away from the large, customless customer. If the aura around him flares from my response, I literally cannot tell, and I don't look back to see his visual reaction either. I have more important things to take care of, like cleaning up the broken glass and spirits someone- in a fit of excitement- scattered across half the width of the room somehow.

God I hate Saturday evenings. I'm 20, I have a degree in Mechanical Engineering and in Physics. How the Hell did my life come to this?

 

[azontr]

I feel as though you may have projected a bit of personal experience into this excerpt, especially at the end, and I like that.

 

[Shmooply]

I am once again using this thread to dump my writing ideas in, just so I don't forget them and can revisit them later when I'm bored or don't like what I'm currently writing.

Here I go again.

Since for some reason "morally gray world with evil but totally misunderstood characters!!" series are still popular, I've been thinking of writing a world set in a dull, very evil, ABSOLUTELY GRIMSHART fantasy world. The catch is that the protagonist of this world, a grotesque king who would be better off being refered to as a warlord or emperor instead, decides to have a change of heart after his many years of horrid actions and warmongering results in the death of his own son. Old, and realizing that his kingdom is rapidly stagnating, he goes "rogue" by fleeing his throne and pretending to be a bum in the streets of the many towns he has acquired during his lordship. The first life he tries to actively improve being that of the second most important character, a little girl that had lost her family and house due to the many war campaigns started by the king. As words of his good deeds spread further and further, even outside his kingdom's walls, his rival, a nobleman that wanted to steal his throne, decides to pursue him and copy his good acts and one-up him, but he's clearly not doing it out of the kindness of his heart but instead to prove that he is superior without realizing that he is improving the livelihood of people. As he continues his journey, the king has chance encounters with one of his former assassins, who had been doing good deeds after he had stopped working for the king, but before the king himself decided to become a so-called hero. With each encounter, the assassin pesters him by asking him questions related to bad people doing good deeds. Should a person loathed by thousands redeem themselves by performing good deeds in public? Would trying to be friendly and caring towards his victims truly change their perspective of him, or make their already existing negative perspective worsen? Would improving their lives make them forgive him, or would it instead remind them of what he had taken away from them? Is he truly repenting by securing the future of his victim's descendants?

The king himself would get a bittersweet ending. While he may have done good deeds, it would never excuse him of his past sins, and so the local citizenry and his disgruntled military later captured and publicly executed him. The king would die smiling at least, as he saw the faces of the numerous people he had befriended and helped in the crowd watching his fate be sealed. The little girl and the other people he helped would try to rewrite history books to include the multiple good deeds he had performed at the end of his life, and how he was still the reason why his kingdom was not just standing, but now even thriving in modern times, making the way modern citizens views him be a mixed bag.

 

[ZoroNotZolo]

Here I go again.

Since for some reason "morally gray world with evil but totally misunderstood characters!!" series are still popular, I've been thinking of writing a world set in a dull, very evil, ABSOLUTELY GRIMSHART fantasy world. The catch is that the protagonist of this world, a grotesque king who would be better off being refered to as a warlord or emperor instead, decides to have a change of heart after his many years of horrid actions and warmongering results in the death of his own son. Old, and realizing that his kingdom is rapidly stagnating, he goes "rogue" by fleeing his throne and pretending to be a bum in the streets of the many towns he has acquired during his lordship. The first life he tries to actively improve being that of the second most important character, a little girl that had lost her family and house due to the many war campaigns started by the king. As words of his good deeds spread further and further, even outside his kingdom's walls, his rival, a nobleman that wanted to steal his throne, decides to pursue him and copy his good acts and one-up him, but he's clearly not doing it out of the kindness of his heart but instead to prove that he is superior without realizing that he is improving the livelihood of people. As he continues his journey, the king has chance encounters with one of his former assassins, who had been doing good deeds after he had stopped working for the king, but before the king himself decided to become a so-called hero. With each encounter, the assassin pesters him by asking him questions related to bad people doing good deeds. Should a person loathed by thousands redeem themselves by performing good deeds in public? Would trying to be friendly and caring towards his victims truly change their perspective of him, or make their already existing negative perspective worsen? Would improving their lives make them forgive him, or would it instead remind them of what he had taken away from them? Is he truly repenting by securing the future of his victim's descendants?

The king himself would get a bittersweet ending. While he may have done good deeds, it would never excuse him of his past sins, and so the local citizenry and his disgruntled military later captured and publicly executed him. The king would die smiling at least, as he saw the faces of the numerous people he had befriended and helped in the crowd watching his fate be sealed. The little girl and the other people he helped would try to rewrite history books to include the multiple good deeds he had performed at the end of his life, and how he was still the reason why his kingdom was not just standing, but now even thriving in modern times, making the way modern citizens views him be a mixed bag.

This is glorious, actually. I'd love to read this.