enterpride, The Reader
A jolly old Dutchman who is on an important mission to write his first story.
An up and coming epic tale told about the incarnation of the first sentient artificial intelligence.
Currently writing 800 words a day, I'm already starting to feel sorry for future me doing the editing.
Recent PostsTears on 3/26/2018 4:13:29 PM
The closest I got to the point of crying would be the ending of 'Metro: 2033', the book. The ambience of utter hopelessness and a broken future left the 13 years old me stunned for a few minutes.
A close second would be 'im westen nichts neues'. The author had a way with words to describe the gruesome pointlessness of the trench warfare of WWI.
Writing/art collaborations! on 3/5/2018 4:52:12 PM
Alright after too long I finally got around to write something. It was a fun couple of hours filled with relaxing music and procrastination for my exam.
So how far did I stray from your original envisioned prompt @Mynoris?
Pick a scenario! on 3/4/2018 6:49:26 PM
Alright you have have a bigger purpose while in Limbo than I thought. I'll give it my second thoughts then.
Image everything unconscious of every single person ever existed on one big heap of meaningless shit.
Firstly what is conscience and unconscience? Let's say everything you experience that you can name out loud in the moment is your conscience. Blinking is unconscious no? That is until you notice it. The same goes for your breathing and that itch on your nose.
So what do you do unconsciously? Almost everything you do in order to function. So to get to those 'good' parts you have to wade trough heaps of data about realtime balance, glucose levels, pattern recognition, processing of hundreds and thousands of possibilities, cardiac rythm, visual processing, and dozens of hormones. Most of them can't be experienced, so who knows how you'll experience them?
Next up are the actual dreams. So you've dug yourself trough the above data of uncountable humans and found yourself in a dream of Jesus. Ever noticed how weird and illogical dreams are. When you're lucid try to count your fingers, I'd bet that the numbers won't add up.
Then the memories of billions. It's possible for people to remember things that haven't actually happened, while forgetting crucial parts of the things that did. In fact, the more you remember your memory, the more your mind just fills in the blanks. So which version of the memory is the correct one?
The same can be said about lucid dreamers. How do you find them, how do you hold contact and have anything more than smalltalk with strangers? Furthermore, unless you somehow combine all the lucid dreamwalkers into one big dreamwalking dream, it's just one talk with one guy. How big is the chance of the guy just chalking it up to an awesome lucid trip?
So I imagine this to be one big heap of pure data where you can either create a world for yourself, or dig trough it in search of a needle in a haystack. On the other hand you can have a perfect 'house' of unlimited size (read planet, star or even galaxy sized) that is perfectly safe from any atrophy and danger of any kind to anyone. You can be anything you want, from emperor to degenerate to a cook. Hell, by doing this you can break every law of physics forming an impossible utopia.
Pick a scenario! on 3/4/2018 2:07:03 PM
My first thoughts when looking at it.
Road Eternal -> You are granted immortality, just hop into a plane a few times a year and get awesome cheap vacations without the need to plan everything ahead. A bit generic, although it's better than nothing. If this for some reason isn't enough, just yell that you're on a planet moving continuously and far faster than you could ever achieve. That'll make you immortal enough.
Fisher King -> You are a god, your house is the Olympia of the world and with the rise of technology and spaceflight your volume can increase exponentially over the years. In a couple hundred to thousand years your house will be the size of a planet that'll be perfect in every way while being a safe haven for all eternity.. and your personal playground. If you've had enough there's also a perfectly easy way out. I think someone dropped the ball on this one.
Nakama -> Friendship, luck and love can be gained in a relatively normal life. Also the relation between you and those 'friends' seems more toxic and unnatural the more I think about it.
Dominion -> The only redeemable thing above the others (read Fisher King) is that your skills decay much slower and you're free to stand wherever you want from the beginning. Otherwise it's a version of Fisher King without all the possibilities.
Hunter -> It's just weird, you're essentially doing what can be done in the Fisher King but at the same time screwing over the world. If you want to fight, just join a MMA gym or something. Hell, maybe you'll even achieve something in your life.
Healer -> Meh, being judged by and dependent on an invisible institution is something I already have in my life. This is even worse, it happens even without you knowing it. In a choice between superpowers that's a big turn off, and if you're looking to improve the world there's better options elsewhere.
Escape -> You died and are essentially nothing. Congratulations. The only real impact you'll have on the world is a few footnotes in vague dream diaries written by some mumbly spiritual gurus and you will be alone forever. No goal, no human contact and no challenges. This sounds more like hell than an awesome superpower. If you want this, please go see a doctor.
Alright so how to use Fisher King effectively.
The key to a good beginning is the location. You want your Olympia to be somewhere magical, mystical but relatively easy to reach for the average impressionable Joe. Hopping onto the recent trend of meditation, mindfulness and general guru shit I'll choose Asia, more specifically Zhangjiajie national park as my newfound home.
In the beginning visitors will be few and far inbetween, so you'll want to make the impression count. Make your 'house' so that it perfectly merges with the surroundings, but with floating rock formations, impossible waterfalls and the most beautiful flowers you can imagine. Don't forget the generic eastern jingle music in the background too.
As the stage is set, you'll impress them by willing the ground under your feet to rise. Dying and returning to life, all of those things. You want to make yourself look like a god, but to keep your religion relatively under the radar. Don't let yourself be filmed or do any other stupid stuff that warrants global suspicion. Slowly build up your following and order them to throw themselves at furthering the cause of science and megaprojects in space.
After a long while mankind will build orbital habitats, which enables you house to grow in size immensively. Make your house a perfect world, invite all followers you deem ready and enjoy your eternity while doing as you please with solid opportunities in every direction you'd want.
PS. As your building is now permanently occupied, it will never shrink in size. So there is no possible way to undo your advancements. Sounds like clearly the best option.
Historical Figures on 2/24/2018 7:14:36 PM
Ah the dude who had to beg big brother Hitler to earn a chance to lead an armoured division, did good and got promoted way beyond his capabilities. Damn site didn't even get his name right, guess he's a Scot now.
Historical Figures on 2/24/2018 6:40:06 PM
Stopped at question 53. Who the fuck is Irwin Rommel?
Wildest experiences on 2/19/2018 6:43:47 PM
Two years ago I went for a good long run through the Polish forests. It was a beautiful, quiet and peaceful late afternoon. There was nothing but my rhythmic breath, sure footsteps and the uneven trail that punctured trough the countless pine trees. The air was mystical, so fresh and rich in flavor that you could practically taste it with each deep breath. On the way I encountered several shy deer, tracks of boars and most importantly not a single human soul. It felt like an eerie movie scene.
I enjoyed it so much in fact, that after a solid hour I got lost. Not that I minded it, but it was getting dark. Next up I heard a multiple of howls pierce the quiet in the distance, almost immediately followed by a bolting doe mere two meters from my surprised self. That really shook me up. Now I know that, unless desperate, wolves tend to avoid fully grown humans. But at that moment pure raw adrenaline kicked in.
It was like a switch. I felt truly alive. All the thoughts stopped and I truly lived in the moment like never before. All the colours were more vibrant, little details popped into vision. My hearing suddenly got sharper. Apart from the fresh pinewood smell, I started to sense other, more subtle things. The lactic buildup in my calves disappeared in the blink of an eye. I felt like a superman, ready to outsprint Usain Bolt and outlast Mo Farah. I was vigilant, ready for anything.
In the end I sadly did not catch any glimpse of the wolf pack, but the feeling stayed for another half an hour. By running to the nearest lake I managed to reorient myself. It was pitch dark when I arrived at my apartment, but the experience was worth the detour. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.
Writing/art collaborations! on 2/18/2018 5:15:25 PM
I feel the faint sunlight on my face. My watch is over. It’s finally time to get some deserved rest. It was another productive night. I made significant progress in my eradication of the newest criminal organisation.
Newest is probably the wrong word for it. The petty criminals rather put aside their internal struggles and banded together to face this new threat. They feared me. They hated me. They made my last few months a literal living hell. Where once I was lauded, I am now scorned. My reign, my lifework is collapsing under my feet. Not that I care much about those things. But the big question remained, was it worth it?
Where you started this undertaking openly four years ago, you had your preparations done for far longer. The problem was clear. The city buckled under an incompetent and corrupt administration. The crime lords were running rampant and unopposed. Riots were a daily occurrence and the city was in flames.
You yourself were from humble origins. A baker’s son in fact. Every day you’d help your father in the small shop after school. You remember fondly the little play fights you held with your dad, the cuddled you got from your mother. You were content, you were loved, you were truly happy.
All of that changed in one dark evening. You were a scrawny sixteen years old back then, more interested in chasing your love than everything else. It was rainy. A cold and terrible gale stuck down any who dared to venture outside. You were sitting calmly behind the counter. It was very quiet, so you had all the time of the world to write your heart out.
The calm and content atmosphere changed in the blink of an eye. The door was kicked open, letting the shuddering outside air into your paradise. You looked up, focusing your eyes on a tall and imposing man. The sight haunts you to this day. Especially his face. It wore an expression of pure indifference. His stiff lifeless lips were the only thing in the world that could match his cold and dead eyes.
A gunshot filled the room. Your mother’s lifeless corpse fell to the ground. Another shot. Your father fell to the ground. Still alive. The man adjusted his tie and walked forwards. Not a single muscle stirred his visage. He walked languidly towards you. Everything slowed down. Just you and the face existed. Until everything went black.
The only thing you knew was the face.
You awoke years later from your coma. It was a miracle. Apparently the bullet pierced cleanly through your head, missing any vital parts on its wary road. You were told that your mother had died that night. Your father wasn’t so lucky. He had survived the torture but come out a completely broken man. He was now under intensive care in a psychiatric ward.
That night left you a legacy that would crumble any other man. But you thrived. That terrible gale is the storm that burns inside you now, filling yourself with a cold and fiery revenge. That face is the face you wear at night. As every night you train yourself, push yourself and steel yourself. You had one goal and every breath you took was in tribute of it.
Eventually you took to the streets at night. You were named many things both good and bad. But what you did payed off. After a long year the city knew peace once more. It was a paradoxical peace, one you could never have. That face eluded you still, that one murder you were envisioning every moment of your waking existence. That was until several months ago.
But father, that was the past, we have to look forwards. I am here now right? Also I finally have good news. I know the location of the new boss. During the day he runs his business in a mansion. It’s a fortress locked down from every point of attack. But he retreats to an inconspicuous shop every night. The sneaky breadsucker. That is where I will strike, father. Just stay put, tomorrow I’ll bring more good news.
I don’t respond to his frantic mumbling. Tomorrow I’ll bring him his favourite cookies. For now I’ll grant myself some sleep. I must be alert tonight.
So here I am. Armed and armoured. I absently wipe the teardrops from my face. The only thing that’s on my mind is cold hatred. I check my gear and my surroundings one last time. Then I kick in the door, prepared to fight for my life… and theirs. Quickly I take a look. No weapons, the coast is clear.
Then eyes meet. I recognise them instantly. And I find myself in an icy sadistic satisfaction. An unexpected movement is responded with a deadly accurate gunshot. A feminine body drops to the floor, but I take great care that the eye contact is not broken.
With detached surprise I can see that they’ve come alive. Not with rage, but with sadness. His eyes were begging for forgiveness, for mercy just moments ago. But now I see their recognition. I see his mask break, his body shudder. I see his son. He’s younger than I was, must be around eight. He’s frozen in fear.
Oh how long I’ve waited for this moment. It is simply perfect. I calmly walk up to the kid. Brush his hair and hold his hands in mine. I put his fingers on the trigger, pointing the gun to my enemy. What a pitiful broken man he had become over the years. I press his fingers against the trigger seven times.
I saved my last bullet for him.
Afterwards I cleaned the murder scene, went through all the necessary procedures. As walked to see my dad, I felt tears running down my cheeks. A deep heavy feeling overcame me. It was emptiness, sadness and contentment all battling for supremacy. Oh, how I wish with all my heart that that one evening did not happen.
Writing/art collaborations! on 2/17/2018 9:22:45 PM
This thread sounds like a blast. So let’s start off with some prompts.
- We went to war with 80 men, came back with 81.
- They’ve got us surrounded again, the poor bastards.
- We'll fight them, sir, until hell freezes over, and then we'll fight them on the ice.
- How it is to dedicate your entire life onto one thing, and fail.
- Stuck between a rock and a hard place.
- Nothing is more intolerable than to have to admit to yourself your own errors.
- Left three dead, but one split, that one miss, that one snitch..
- I'm not drunk, just a little stoned.
- You enter college after being schooled at home your entire life.
Your Superpower of Choice? on 2/15/2018 8:33:49 PM
The ability to totally manipulate time is as stated the best superpower around, but only as long as you remain in total control. Imagine in how many ways you could fuck up when you drunkenly decide to try something new, or overshoot your time warp. Other than that, you'll become a god.
But more realistically I'd want control over my procrastination and laziness. Either that, or I want to become an expert in bodylanguage and microexpressions. Both are reasonably achievable through hard work and dedication. Both would be an immense help in my life, provide an edge over most of the others. However both are very hard to achieve.
However a total lack of hangovers sounds good too.