Messages

I really enjoyed reading the detailed description of your process for these recordings!

Lovely recording of the waves, feel free to share more! I love putting sounds of nature in the background, they create a relaxing ambiance and help filter out the noises from outside.

By the way, after reading about you having to wake up early to record some of the sounds, I couldn't help but make this

Congrats Sinitrena!

[Sinitrena]

I enjoyed reading all the stories. My feedback:

Sinitrena

Spoiler

An enjoyable story that fits well with the current Christmas atmosphere: shops filled with customers and overworked staff. I like the idea behind the story and I found the protagonist's character to be well-defined through her actions and interactions with people.

[close]

Mandle

Spoiler

Santa and time travel, what a combination! A funny short story.

[close]

Stupot

Spoiler

This one made me laugh, very funny!

[close]

Baron

Spoiler

The main character was described well and you can understand his frustrations at being constantly interrupted when working. The ending is a bit of a let-down: the guy who looks, acts, and has a hobby like a serial killer... is really a serial killer.
Despite this, I enjoyed reading the story!

[close]

My vote goes to...

Spoiler

Sinitrena.

[close]

[Interplanetary Relocations Co.]

Interplanetary Relocations Co.

Spoiler

Matteo and Antonio had been working for the Interplanetary Relocations Co. for ten years. Remodelling and terraforming small planets for future tenants had never been a dream for either of them, but the pay was good and the market booming. Plus Gianfranco, the old man, as they used to call him, was a good employer, affable and generous. The kind of person with whom it is impossible not to get along.
The routine was always the same. They worked for three to four weeks, levelling mountains that were too high to be accessible, digging picturesque lakes and filling them with fish, planting a few groves here and there that always looked good in the brochures. Once they had finished their preparations, they organised a guided tour of the planet for its future inhabitants, taking care to hide from them the desert areas where they had thrown the remains of the mountains and the cheap seas with which they had filled half the planet. I mean, what did they expect from a few weeks' work? "Even God took seven days to create the world," the old man used to say. "And he certainly had better tools than we do."
It was hard, back-breaking work, yes, but it paid well, the boss was a good man, and Matteo and Antonio had become good friends over time. Of course, the two could not have been more different from each other. Antonio was a mule, whose main goal in life was to make ends meet. Matteo, on the other hand, was more ambitious. "If you follow me, you'll go places", he used to tell Antonio, a prophecy that never seemed to come true. Still, they could not complain, especially considering the job crisis that plagued society at that time.

Of course, it wasn't all roses.
In recent years, the old man had begun to lose his marbles, it was clear. Like that time he had sent them to Sciatto VI, to clean up an oil spill. Two horrendous weeks slogging through sludge, trying to suck out an 8-kilometre-deep oil stratum. Only to realise, when the job was done, that they had misread the Roman number and discovered that the clean-up had to be done at Sciatto IV instead. Not to mention dozens of complaints from the oil-drinking population of Sciatto VI, pissed off at the loss of their primary source of food.
In short, the situation had deteriorated to the extent that the old man had to take early retirement, much to the sadness of his two employees who were genuinely fond of him.
So now they were sitting in the office, a lump in their stomachs, waiting for something to happen. Antonio was chewing the caps of all the pens he could find, reducing them to shapeless lumps, while Matteo was biting his nails. The anxiety in the air was palpable.
"He's already late," Antonio said, nibbling on a Bic, eyes fixed on the wall clock. "Do you know him, this guy Gregorio?"
"Pah, I saw him once," Matteo replied, gnawing his thumb. "But he was just a kid."
"The old man never talked about his nephew," muttered Antonio. "There must be a reason."
"And to think the company is in his hands," Matteo said, switching to his index finger. "Let's hope for the best. I don't feel like looking for another job."

Gregorio, the new owner, came in slamming the door, three and a half hours late. Small, plump, with bad teeth and already bald despite his young age, he looked nothing like his uncle. Antonio, who had dozed off at his desk, jolted awake believing he was in a nightmare.
"Wake up!" croaked the newcomer. "We have a job to do, we are already late."
"I assume you are Gregorio, the nephew of the old m... of Gianfranco?" asked Matteo.
"Yes. And don't think you can walk over me just because I'm young, understand?"
Antonio held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, my name is..."
"I know who you are. I read my uncle's files," Gregorio said with plain disdain, his face a purple balloon. "And I also know he overpaid you, the old man. But things are going to change here, you can bet on that. Now get your tools ready, we've got a Class D Planet to sort out."
"But... what about the day's notice?" asked Matteo. The old man always gave them advance notice before starting a job.
"No more notices, overtime payments, scrounging holidays. The fun is over!" squealed Gregorio, picking up a Bic to mark the day's agenda. "The hell is wrong with these pens?"

The next month was a nightmare. Wages halved, work doubled, holidays cancelled. What it took them a fortnight to do with the old man, under the new management was done in a week.
Interplanetary Relocations Co. had never been the most honest of companies, it has to be said. The old man was no saint, and in his career he had ripped-off a few customers here and there, skimped on extras, and embellished the accounts a bit. But his nephew was a real bastard. Under his direction they had found themselves hiding deserts under a carpet of cheap grass a few centimetres thick, recycling polluted water bought at half price to fill lakes and rivers, passing off dangerous active volcanoes as pleasant hiking spots. True scams.

After the first week, Antonio was exhausted. By the second, he was ready for a nervous breakdown. Matteo, on the other hand, had withdrawn into himself and did not seem the same person.
"Gregorio... was he already such an asshole even as a kid?" asked Antonio to Matteo. They were sitting in the usual beat-up spaceship they had been using for ten years, in one of the rare breaks Gregorio gave them. "Not only does he rips off customers, but he treats us like crap with exploitative hours and wages!"
Matteo nodded. Lately, he spoke little and was always absorbed in who knows what thoughts. Antonio was beginning to worry.
"You always told me we would go places... but the only places we've ever been were deserted planets covered in garbage!"
Currently, they were working on a Trash Rock, one of the many asteroids used as a dumping ground by neighbouring planets. The situation, however, had become untenable: the piles of rubbish had reached such levels that someone had to be called in to clean up the muck, to pick up and throw the rubbish into the closest black hole. And who had been foolish enough to accept that job of dubious legality if not Gregorio, the new owner of Interplanetary Relocations Co.?
So Antonio and Matteo had been there for seven days moving mountains of garbage, just to uncover more endless piles of junk, while being entertained by Gregorio's shrill shouts over the communicator: "Come on, you loafers! Get a move on, you lazy bums, there's low gravity and no one believes you're struggling! Will you get a move on or do I have to do everything?!"
Gregorio had assumed the role of supervisor: he sat precariously on a pile of rubbish shouting orders, not helping one bit his two employees.
The idea of spending another week in the middle of nowhere, with no communication with the outside world, with the sole company of a shrieking lunatic and a man who seemed to have taken a vow of silence, up to his neck in rubbish, cleaning up who knows how many more tonnes of rubbish, gave Antonio the creeps. When he thought about it, he felt like he had a fever.
"Moreover, everyone knows that asteroids don't pay a damn thing! We're breaking our backs for nothing, eh Matteo? Matteo? Are you even listening to me?"
Matteo as usual said nothing, but as in response on the ship's communicator Gregorio's croaking voice rang out: "Are you done with your break, lazybones?"

They resumed their work. Antonio on the ground, Matteo operating the huge robotic crane they used to move loads. Gregorio, as always, sat on a pile of rubbish shouting ("he's in his natural environment", said Antonio to himself).
They were currently dismantling a sort of enormous slum made up of rusty metal sheet hovels, precariously held together by worn planks: you could get tetanus just looking at that stuff. How did all that junk even end there?
Antonio loaded a pile of metal sheets at the foot of the crane. It was exhausting, slow work, as each sheet had to be manually separated from the wood, according to Interplanetary Directive 396B on Material Recycling. Bloody tree-huggers, thought Antonio.
Matteo, from his glass cage at the top of the crane, operated the magnet of the mechanical arm, which sucked the metal mass as if it had no weight.

Antonio was stacking the next load of sheets when the communicator rang. "If it's that idiot Gregorio, I'm not answering." But one glance was enough to see that the boss had dozed off in his chair; Antonio pressed the answer button.
"Matteo? Look, if there are pieces of wood between the sheets, who cares, they'll separate them themselv..."
"Get back in the spaceship and wait for me there," Matteo's voice was imperative.
"Huh?"
"Do as I said, there's no time."

Antonio hurried back into the spaceship. There was something strange in Matteo's tone of voice. Perhaps he wanted to take advantage of Gregorio being asleep to take another break...? That was perfectly fine by him!
He had just sat on a bench to wait when he heard a hellish ruckus from outside. Antonio looked out of the main window in an attempt to understand what was going on, but it was impossible to see anything with all those piles of rubbish piled on the asteroid.
A few minutes later, Matteo arrived like a rocket and without a word started fiddling with the spaceship controls.
"Matteo, what the hell is going on? Why you are preparing the ship for take-off?"
"I'm sick and tired of it, I've decided to leave the asteroid."
"What about Gregorio?!"
"What about him?" said Matteo, as the ship was taking off vertically into space. "I have decided to leave him on the asteroid to... meditate on his actions."
"You didn't kill him, did you?!" Antonio was dumbfounded.
"No way. I only slowed him down by leaving a pile of metal sheets on the path to the ship. Once he clears the passage, he'll find enough food and water to survive a couple of months. Besides, he's got plenty of company, he's surrounded by his own kind: trash."
"You must be crazy... what if he calls for help? That would get us both arrested!"
"Call who? No one knows we're here. That's one of the cons of taking shady jobs." Matteo laughed, setting the course. "But don't worry, we'll come back here in a month, when he's mellowed out."
"What if he doesn't mellow out?!"
Matteo grinned like a shark. "Then, meet the new owner of Interplanetary Relocations Co. and his associate. I told you we would go places!"

[close]

These entries came so quickly, the competition will have to be renamed Flash Writing Contest.

I'm working on an entry, hopefully I can finish writing it today and review it in the next few days.

This is outrageous! Can we ban this Mango guy from the FWC? Or even better, from the AGS forums?!? It's the only way that justice can be served!!!

I don't think anyone will have any issue with what you did. It's perfectly fine to post the same entry both here and to lesser writing contests as well
I've always seen these competitions as friendly ways to have fun and get better, where it doesn't much matter who wins as long as we have someone to host the next one.

This is now my favorite writing-situation experience of my life.

I'm glad to have made your life better by providing it (ignore the fact that I had nothing to do with it and that you were writing for another contest; just send me your eternal gratitude).

Anyway, enough excuses from you, and start thinking of the next theme!!!

[Results]

Results

The results are quite close:

1st place with 6 votes... Mandle!
2nd place with 5 votes... Sinitrena!
Last but not least, on 3d place with 4 votes... Baron!

Thank you everyone for submitting your stories and votes! Three quite different takes on the same theme, all three very interesting.

I enjoyed each story, here's my feedback.

Mandle:

Spoiler

Fascinating story, full of cool ideas! I wanted to know more about its world and characters, great work. Maybe it's a bit loose on the theme, but I don't mind since the story is good

[close]

Sinitrena:

Spoiler

The bench statue is such a great idea and a really interesting starting point for the story. I liked how it unfolded, slowly getting to understand the full picture. The dialogues are well-written and really define the personalities of the characters. A very enjoyable, if sad, story.

[close]

Baron:

Spoiler

This story felt like a punch in the gut sometimes - but in a good way that fits the theme. Your representation of hell is quite good and horrifying in several different ways. Another very good read!

[close]

Congratulations Mandle, it's your turn to host now!

Hey, people! Can we get a few more votes?
Voting is open to everyone, even if you haven't posted an entry.

[Voting time!]

Voting time!

Vote 2 points for your favourite story, and 1 point for your runner-up.

We have three stories:

• OUTSIDE EVERYTHING - Mandle
• On the Corner of Devil's Street and Churchstreet - Sinitrena
• The Road to Hell - Baron

Deadline: November 30.

Remember!
Voting is open to everyone! Feel free to read these devilish short stories and vote. Feedback is also appreciated.

[Baron:]

Baron: great to hear that! But writing can be a devil of a job, so let me know if you need more time.

Mandle: that's understandable, sometimes with these topics there's the devil to pay!

8 days left! How are your devilish entries coming up?

What the hell, that was quick, Mandle! Did you sell your soul to the devil to be this fast?
(I'm trying to keep my comments theme-related here  )

Oh, wow! This is fantastic, so cool to see it in AGS!
I wonder how performance is at high res, but the demo is really impressive. Awesome stuff as usual!

[The Devil]

The Devil

A devil is the mythical personification of evil as it is conceived in various cultures and religious traditions. It is seen as the objectification of a hostile and destructive force. [...] the different conceptions of the devil can be summed up as 1) a principle of evil independent from God, 2) an aspect of God, 3) a created being turning evil (a fallen angel) or 4) a symbol of human evil.

Each tradition, culture, and religion with a devil in its mythos offers a different lens on manifestations of evil. [...] It occurs historically in many contexts and cultures, and is given many different names—Satan (Judaism), Lucifer (Christianity), Beelzebub (Judeo-Christian), Mephistopheles (German), Iblis (Islam)—and attributes: it is portrayed as blue, black, or red; it is portrayed as having horns on its head, and without horns, and so on.

(shamelessly stolen from Wikipedia)

Theme:
Your task is to make a story about the devil.
Does it have to be literally about the devil? Or does it have to be spooky?
Of course not!

Here are some ideas, to show how freely you can interpret the theme:

- A comedy about the devil having to find another job;
- A joke about the devil being tricked by a customer to send him to paradise;
- An interpretation of the saying "the devil is in the detail"...
- ...or "the Devil's advocate";
- The devil as a representation of an evil person;
- A story about a Tasmanian devil...? Eh, that's a bit of a stretch.

Be creative! ...or not. Literal interpretations are also fine.

Rules:
- No word limit, just don't make it a 500-page epic.
- Have fun (that's a rule    )!

Deadline: Monday 25th November.

Yay!
I'll try to think of a fun idea for a theme

[Envy of Heaven]

I enjoyed how different each entry was! My feedback:

Envy of Heaven

Spoiler

The story is very interesting. It tends a bit towards the grotesque in some parts but that's done on purpose and it fits the theme and characters.
I like that it hints at a deeper story (e.g. Abramelin Operation which I assume refers to The Book of Abramelin?) while trusting the reader to be intelligent enough to figure out the plot and put the pieces together by himself. Cool ending as well.

[close]

Nocturne

Spoiler

I found that it has some very interesting images and I like the juxtaposition between the first and second part, splitting the two worlds (human and animal).
I'm not sure if it tells a short story more than a comparison between the two species, but it's not a negative for me and I appreciate what the poem does.

[close]

The Dark, Dark, Forest

Spoiler

I like how it tells a short story that feels unsettling, but leaving the scary parts to the reader's imagination, which is very effective! I especially liked the line: "or of being pushed by someone I trust", which opens to a lot of unpleasant images.

[close]

The Path

Spoiler

I liked the structure with multiple protagonists.
I don't entirely get the setting, with bikes, trains, TVs, and swearing, but also princes on white horses and witches. The mix of modern and fairytale worlds didn't feel cohesive to me, but maybe I'm missing something here.
There are some good images in the story and I liked the ending.

[close]

My votes:

Spoiler

Envy of Heaven: 3
Nocturne: 2
The Dark, Dark, Forest: 3
The Path: 2

[close]

[A New Life]

My entry below! I started late, so I wrote it rather quickly, and I exceeded the word limit a bit (I bet it's the word counter being imprecise and not my fault  ).

A New Life

Spoiler

Filthy woods. Filthy, fetid woods infested with flies and gnats. How on earth did she end up in such a place, Martina wondered. Yet their honeymoon had started so well, with those three days on Lake Maggiore! Alberto had been charming and everything had unfolded like in a movie: the room with a view, the sunset watching the reflections on the calm waters of the lake, happy days immersed in a romantic fairytale atmosphere. And he had not even touched her, waiting until she was ready. A true gentleman.
Everything had been perfect, until they had decided to travel to Alberto's hometown.

"What a beauty, right Martina?" said Alberto. "There's no such thing in the city!"
"Thank goodness..." she muttered between her teeth. Her t-shirt glued with sweat to her back, her blister-covered feet slipping on the forest floor covered with wet leaves and gnarled roots, Martina was certainly not in the mood to admire nature.
"Just think, there are more than a hundred native tree species in the Rubicante Valley alone!" continued declaiming Alberto, like a bucolic documentary programme.
"There he goes again!" He was so irritating when he started his boring speeches about trees, animals, the beauty of the earth, with the tone of a TV presenter.
Yet, three weeks earlier, things had been quite different. To think that it was precisely those conversations about mountain life that had fascinated her so much...

She had met Alberto Ferrero in Milan, the city where she had always lived. An inveterate city dweller, more used to being stuck in traffic than walking in nature, she had been captivated by Alberto's simple and affable ways. She had never met anyone like him. Most of her friends were university students or recent graduates from large private departments, a bunch of snooty, snobbish kids who spent their parents' money with alarming liberality, constantly searching for a quick and easy solution to their deep personal dissatisfaction.
Then, Alberto had arrived, a sudden ray of sunshine. Alberto, with his tanned face, his smile that looked even brighter under his dark skin, his muscular body, and his manner without pretence. She was immediately captivated by him. The evenings she used to spend with other students in the city's trendy bars had turned into long walks with Alberto.
Alberto was in Milan dealing with paperwork concerning a bereavement in the family, but he came from a small valley in Piedmont and rarely travelled to the big city.
A shy, unassuming man, he had not wanted to meet her friends to avoid making a bad impression. "They are cultured people," he said. "What do they have in common with a simpleton like me?". But it was precisely his simplicity that had attracted her so much.
And then she had fallen in love with the tales of his land, the Rubicante Valley, described as an enchanted, wonderful, unspoilt place. Alberto had an almost motherly bond to his land and was able – through his simple, unpretentious words – to paint a vivid picture of these places. It was all so fascinating!
Martina, accustomed to the daily grind of the big city, would never have imagined that such beautiful, immaculate lands could exist in the region next to hers.
"It is a unique place," Alberto recounted, his voice a whisper of reverence to those lands so dear to him. "A valley enclosed between two calm rivers, surrounded by magnificent forests and high mountains that protected it from the outside world, from wars, from worldly corruption. Its fertile land produces everything you need, the forests are full of game, and up there you can live a simple existence, far from worries, and happy. What we have, no one can ever take away from us. For centuries we have avoided all the problems that have plagued the rest of the country. It is a magical place".
Martina, almost hypnotised by these stories, had soon fallen in love with Alberto, despite the age difference. Within a few weeks, they were married and thinking back, Martina still couldn't quite understand how it had happened. Those days seemed to have disappeared from memory, carried away by a sudden whirlwind of happiness. It had been her first true love, as intense as only inexperienced youth can feel.
Alberto made her promise to spend the honeymoon in his lands and Martina happily agreed, eagerly to visit those magical places she heard so much about.

And now here they were, two newly-weds, sweating in mud, covered in blisters and insect bites. The much-dreamed Rubicante Valley had turned out to be a nightmare for Martina. The inn they were staying in was an ugly cube covered in plaster, with small windows set into thick walls and rooms that resembled burial recesses rather than the luxury hotel rooms she was used to when going on holiday with her parents.
The locals weren't much better. They seemed poorly dressed, boorish peasants speaking an incomprehensible dialects. They made her immediately miss her friends from Milan who, as shallow as they were, had at least some shared interest with her! These people, however, seemed have no other topic of conversation than hunting, gathering, and harvesting.
And Alberto... Alberto was like a pig in the mud! Where was that charming man who had bewitched her with his sincere ways? Suddenly he seemed to have been replaced by a crude mountain man who, like a snake shedding its skin, had revealed his true nature once surrounded by his fellow men. And to think that she had married him, despite her parents' warnings! She had scoffed at their worries as petty bourgeois concerns, but now she saw how right the were. What an idiot she had been!

"Shall we go back?" whimpered Martina, seated on a smelly rotting log. Compared to that forest, even their room at the inn seemed cosy.
"Why, you don't like the forest?" said Alberto with a gentleness that felt feigned.
"No!" she burst out. "I can't take it any more! Look at my feet," she said removing a boot to show him her blistered sole.
"Poor darling! I told you to wear socks with your boots."
"You didn't tell me, though, about all these gross flies! My face is full of bites, I have gnats splattered all over my skin. You didn't tell me about the disgusting stench emanating from these woods! I can't take it any more! I can't!". Martina realised she was having a fit, but did nothing to stop it. She felt so childish, but she could not stop sobbing.
Alberto sat down next to her and surrounded her tenderly with his muscular arms, wrapping her in a warm embrace.
"You're right, darling. It's my fault, I should have known you weren't used to it. I was selfish."
Patiently, Alberto bandaged her aching feet after covering them with cream. He kissed her gently on the head and the girl suddenly remembered why she had fallen in love with this rough-looking man.
"The smell in the air is the humidity," Alberto explained quietly. "I'm afraid it's going to rain soon. It's like that in these mountains: every now and then there is a downpour, but it's short-lived. Unfortunately, we have strayed too far from the town to go back, but I know a place nearby where we can take shelter until it stops raining."
Alberto helped Martina – now calm but with eyes still reddened – up, and they set off again through the pines, while the sky showing through the trees grew darker and darker, furrowed by gloomy clouds.

The air became colder, as the first drops of rain began to filter through the tall foliage. The ground was getting steeper and the humidity made it difficult to breathe. After walking for half an hour, the pine trees began to thin out, revealing far in the background a high rock face extending beyond the treetops.
The unpleasant stench of dampness and rotten vegetation had become even more intense and had an aftertaste of rotten eggs, almost causing Martina to retch. Where the hell did that stench come from?, Martina kept asking herself, increasingly tired and disoriented. It certainly could not be the dampness of the woods, as Alberto had said. The smell kept increasing the more sparse the woods became. With relief she noticed, however, that the flies had finally decided to leave them alone, a thought that made Martina laugh to herself: maybe they too must have been disgusted by the stench! Or perhaps it was the rain, which was beginning to beat heavily on their heads, that had made them run for cover.

As if crossing an invisible border, the forest abruptly ceased, giving way to a high, impassable-looking rock face. The only trees visible now were skeletal. The area appeared barren and bare: only a huge wall of rock towering above their heads.
"Look Martina, salvation!" Alberto was pointing to a spot in the rock face. "Just one final effort and you'll be able to rest."
Through the thick rain, Martina had not noticed some crude constructions embedded in the rock, ancient dwellings carved into the hard material, with openings like black gaping mouths.
"Nobody knows when they were built, people say they existed before the creation of the world", explained Alberto as they took shelter in one of the small dwellings, the rain almost deafening.
Under the cover of the rocky roof, Martina suddenly noticed how beneath the noise of the rain there was a quieter one. A faint white noise, an insistent hum like the sound of a broken radio.
It was only when they pushed further into the ancient dwelling, through a narrow, dark corridor carved into the mountain, poorly lit by Alberto's lighter, that Martina realised where the noise was coming from.
Flies, hundreds of flies were swarming madly, banging on the narrow walls of the corridors.

At Alberto's insistence, they went further into the artificial cave. "Wet as we are, we have to find a place to light a fire and dry ourselves".
Martina felt as she was about to have another fit. "I can't stand it here," she gasped.  "This oppressive darkness, the flies... I... I can't breathe!"
"Would you rather catch pneumonia? Look at the rain out there!" blurted Alberto, irritated, his face suddenly appearing old and covered with wrinkles in the light of the lighter. "So much fuss over a little smell of sulphur."
They descended deeper, into dark corridors that penetrated through the bowels of the mountain. Alberto moved confidently, as if he had traversed those paths many times. The flies were again a constant, thick presence, with their fat, dark bodies covering what little light came from the lighter. The smell of sulphur had become so intense that Martina struggled to breathe, nausea gave her bouts of dizziness that left her disoriented in that cramped and oppressive space. She felt she was about to faint, could no longer stand, as they descended lower and lower.

Martina woke up on the dirt floor, inside a circular room carved in the rock, poorly lit by a few candles. A deafening buzzing sound seemed to vibrate from the very essence of the room. Next to her, she recognised Alberto.
In the middle, a table carved into the stone separated them from a figure seated on a crude pew, the man an indistinguishable silhouette in the darkness.
"You finally woke up," said Alberto in a sarcastic voice. "It's not nice to keep our guest waiting."
"W-where are we?" she stammered.
"Remember Martina, when I was telling you about the Rubicante Valley, how it remained a peaceful and idyllic place for centuries, without war or destruction? Well, you must know that some things don't just happen. No, sir. There is no such thing as luck. Maintaining peace requires, shall we say, a little sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?"
"Our Lord left one of his sons here, for us, to protect us. But, poor thing, he too needs nourishment, don't you think?"
Alberto drew a candle closer to the table, revealing the occupant of the pew.
His face, if one could call it that, was a milky, pulsating cocoon, with silky filamentous threads connected to the rest of his body. A dark gash started to widen from his grotesque head and flies, thousands of flies, began to fly out of it, heading towards the girl. Martina closed her eyes.

That year the crops of the Rubicante Valley were lush and the game abundant. The land seemed to be regenerated with new life.

[close]

I'm working on an entry, hopefully I'll manage to finish it today or tomorrow.

I helped test this game and it's super fun!

Entertaining puzzles, a silly story, and great dialogues. Super nice graphics as well.
If you're looking for an enjoyable 10-15 minutes, give it a try!

It's not connected to Yip Quest, but if you liked this game, you should also try it.

[Sinitrena]

I liked the theme and I had a story planned out, but life happened and I couldn't join. My impressions on the stories, both of which I enjoyed, are below!

Sinitrena

Spoiler

An interesting story that I enjoyed reading: it defies some clichés and the ending is sad but realistic. Although a few things in Andrew's behaviour aren't entirely believable (like not masking himself during his performances on stage, or not showing his girlfriend to dissipate doubts about her existence) they don't undermine the story.

[close]

Baron

Spoiler

I like the cast's characterisations through their names, descriptions, and dialogues. But when the story starts to get interesting... it stops. Which is a bit disappointing.

By the way, the Marconi surname for a mob boss in 1950s US makes no sense. Marconi is a typical surname of the north, as the famous Guglielmo Marconi (who was from Bologna) can attest. The Mafia is a phenomenon from Sicily, the south.

Other than that nitpick, a very enjoyable story... but I wish there was more! The characters are too good to stop here.

[close]

My votes:

Spoiler

I vote for To the Pole, since it feels like a complete story.

[close]