Contest Winner for Endmaster's 2018 Fanfic Contest
Ciara's life has never been anything worth cherishing, until she participates in a game that changes everything.
Special thanks to Corgi
for beta testing, you're the best!
Changed good ending perameters so that the requirements make more sense.
Fixed a script error where the judge did not properly acknowledge a player's choice.
P.S. There is more than one ending. If you haven't found more than one, then you have not tried "literally" everything.
When a young family moves into the sleepy little town of Daphne, they find themselves in a virtual utopia. The small cottage they move into is lovely, but not so old that it has problems. The people are all friendly, a close knit town with a population of only 300. Both of the family's daughters begin to make friends in their new school and the husband and wife find themselves entranced with the romantic scenery.
But, if something is too good to be true, it probably is.
BerkaZerka & Aman
For their invaluable feedback and help in the making of this game.
Fixed minor script issues
Fixed minor spelling/grammar errors
Overcoming the Fear of Criticism
People think your story sucks? This article is for you!
Sabley's Horrendous Valentine's Day/Weekend
on 2/17/2020 10:18:32 AM
Yeah, I think I'm going to butcher all four of them and make soup out of them if I can. Then use what's left on the carcasses for stock that I can can.
I'm just going to wait until I have a free weekend to do it, because that's a lot of work and I already have plans for this coming weekend. Up until now they've just been these fat, goofy roosters that follow me around and act cute. Now they're brutal gang rapists and would be murderers. I just can't look at them the same way anymore.
Sabley's Horrendous Valentine's Day/Weekend
on 2/17/2020 9:52:31 AM
I should probably do a write up about the skid steer turning into Satan's boiling asshole one of these days too. But so far the right thread has not presented itself lol.
Sabley's Horrendous Valentine's Day/Weekend
on 2/17/2020 9:35:15 AM
By popular demand, I've come to post a formal write up of my Valentines weekend. It's a tale of love, memory problems, vomit, screws, ladder theft, and attempted murder(no really, there was attempted murder).
So, Valentines Day itself started off great. I took a half day off work since it was Valentines and because I had an ultrasound appointment and my husband was going with me. We went to that, saw our baby and it was great. Then we snagged some lunch and I went into work. We ended up closing early, I thought that was perfect. Now I'll actually be able to do the fancy Valentines dinner I had planned to do saturday since I'm off work early.
Nope, I called my husband to tell him the good news. But, he's already half way to North Carolina to go get a tires. Tires that are probably stolen, because why else would someone sell a $1000 set of tires for $200? But, hey! That's ok, I told myself I'd just go back to the original plan of Valentines Day on Saturday instead. No big deal.
My husband gets home and tells me that he is now going rabbit hunting with his dad tomorrow. No big deal I tell myself again, he'll be home in time for dinner. We can still Netflix and chill, it'll be fine. And hell, I haven't had a day with the house all to myself in over a month. And sure enough, it was great. I was lazy most of the day besides general house cleaning and chicken related chores. I binged the entire new season of Sabrina. But, that was the end of my good day.
My husband got home right when I was starting to work on my fancy dinner. I had a 6lb leg of lamb and a fucking Gordon Ramsay recipe. It was going to be glorious. I slaved over it for two hours. Everything smelled wonderful, I was so excited. I posted a picture of the roast in the discord. Then suddenly, I hear a knock at the door. It's my father in law and my husband's Mamaw. My husband forgot this was our Valentines dinner and invited them then forgot to tell me.
Flustered, I invite them in and pretend this was all part of the plan. I forget to check the temp on the roast, I just take it out and let it rest while I make extra salads and bemoan the fact that I won't have leftover sweet potatoes after all. Mamaw wants to help, but I send her to the living room. She's like the family matriarch and does Sunday dinner and is literally community famous for her food and general wholesomeness. I love her dearly, but this is my kitchen... It's my domain... And I'll be damned if anybody else gets credit for any of this food.
Only, that backfired. I start cutting up the roasted leg of lamb and it's fucking raw. So I cried for a solid minute as I kept cutting it up and put it back in the oven and prayed it didn't get dry. I finished up the gravy made from the drippings, made some cheesy garlic toast, made a formal fucking table setting because my granny taught me Southern Manners god dammit.
Finally the roast gets done, it tastes great. We all sit around and chat. They leave at 9:00PM. My husband has gorged on lamb and forgot that I got us strawberries and hershey's fudge. He ate one and was full and went and fell asleep on the couch. I ate them by myself. Fun fact, it's way cheaper to just get the fudge and containers of freshs strawberries to DIY than it is to buy them predone. Less pretty, but just as good and cheaper.
So I give up on romance and go to bed. Only to be awakened at 2AM by the sound of my husband puking his guts out. Now he wasn't sick sick, he has really bad acid reflux and eating too much too late in the evening does this to him. Doesn't stop him from eating too much anyway, but at least he wasn't contagious. I decide to be a good wife and be supportive. He held my hair through four months of constant morning sickness, I can go rub his back, right? Wrong, so fucking wrong. I hit a wall of sick half way into the bathroom and almost puked myself. I kept trucking on, holding my nose and trying to help. I rubbed his back for a second then gagged and had to run out. This went on in loop for about an hour.
Sunday morning, we both felt better. I made him take me to Ihop to make up for the inlaws crashing our Valentines Date Night at his request. Breakfast was great, I had a french toast combo and swiss mocha coffee. Then we went to Lowes because I needed some seed starting trays to start my veggies indoors before planting season hits. I find what I need in about ten minutes and then it happens. My husband remembers that we need angled gutter spouts and the little tray things that go under them to protect your foundation from erosion. Ok, we can do that. No big deal.
Two hours later, I'm still in Lowes staring at gutter spouts as my husband realizes the ones he needs are on the top shelf. I stop paying attention to him for a few minutes and watch an old lady climb a shelf further down the aisle and knock off a patio door kit. It busted on the floor. When a worker came by, she lectured him about not helping her fast enough and somehow got out of paying for the damaged goods. I turn back around and my husband has a 10FT drain pipe and is trying to work the box of spouts off the top shelf. I make him stop and accept the fact that I'm probably going to be that parent with their kid on a leash because he's probably going to take after his dad and be a hellion.
So next, my husband runs off to find someone to help. They end up never coming, so he instead decides to steal the roller ladder. At this point I've hit fuck it and encourage this. He gets the box, we get caught by a worker who lectures us as we hurry away, and I think that's it, I'm free. Only no, he now needs screws. We then go to the screw aisle and he can't find the ones he wants. After about thirty minutes of screwing around with the screws in the screw section, we finally find the right ones and get the hell out of dodge.
We go home and on the way up the driveway decide to stop and check on my chickens. I've been suspecting one of my hens is about to go broody so we were checking to see if she was laying on eggs. My husband was the last one to leave out the coop door(this is important for later) and we then went back up to the house. I got my niece's birthday present ready and we hauled ass to her party and actually made it on time somehow.
The party was good, no complaints there. We then swung by my parent's house after since my mom had called and told me she'd made raspberry cake and wanted to give us some. We got our cake and headed home. But, when we got there something was not right. There were more chickens running loose than there should be. I normally only have four roosters loose, my lawn ornaments as I call them. But, there were 18 chickens scratching around the pasture. We'd had a goddam jailbreak!
So we get out of the car and nearly get run over by my rooster Elvis getting chased by the Lawn Ornaments. Shit got straight up Game of Thrones in this bitch. The other roosters were not only beating Elvis up, but there was rape going on. I didn't even know roosters raped each other. But, they do... they do.
For a solid year, Elvis has been in the coop with the hens. He's a gentleman and respects consent so the hens stay relaxed and happy and lay lots of eggs. But, he likes to flaunt his Hugh Hefner status in front of the Lawn Ornaments through the wire of the coop and I guess they've been holding a grudge all this time. My husband goes after them. He chases this pack of rooster rape and beat downs all up and down the pasture. I won't lie, it was hilarious and I did laugh. Meanwhile, I rounded up my hens who for the most part were pretty polite about going back in the coop since I put food in there. I just had to slowly herd them in the right direction.
Finally my husband comes tearing back down the pasture after the roosters, Elvis is in the lead followed by the Lawn Ornaments who are still pecking him, trying to mount him, and generally kicking his ass. They run him into a tree that has a bunch of trunks(No idea what that is actually called, but yeah it was a cluster of trunks). Elvis gets knocked into the tree and pinned between the trunks. He is simultaneosly getting butt fucked, pecked, and flogged by the other four roosters. Then my husband comes barreling in with the rage of hades and sends the other roosters flying, grabs Elvis and makes a beeline for me and the coop. The Lawn Ornaments start coming after him to get to Elvis so he uses Elvis as a bat to knock them away from him. Poor Elvis is literally being swung by his feet and used as a club to swat away the other roosters as my husband makes a run for it. He makes it inside with Elvis and I send the Lawn Ornament away with a good scolding and threats of making chicken stock out of them. Elvis has no feathers left on his butt, which has been pecked raw among other things, or his legs, and some of his neck feathers have been yanked out. But he's alive.
So we go back up to the house and sit our asses on the couch. Our plans of putting together my shelf with grow lights for my tomatoes are out the window. It can be done tomorrow. So instead we just sit on the couch together, discussing how brutal chicken society is and how much Valentines has sucked this year. I guess at some point my husband felt bad about the lack of romance so he buttered me up with some love songs. He's tone deaf as hell, but how can I not appreciate that? So we ended up dancing a bit in the living room then going to bed and sleeping like the dead. And now I'm here, sharing my Valentines horror story with you all.
CYS Mentor Program - (Beta)
on 1/14/2020 9:54:37 AM
This is a great idea, Bucky.
I'm willing to sign on as a mentor. I'd probably be better suited for someone interested in writing Fantasy or Horror, but I'm up for anything really.
on 1/14/2020 9:44:05 AM
I've got three resolutions for 2020.
1. Be a good mom.
2. Keep writing as regularly as possible.
3. Don't fail at my first big veggie garden. (I've already got my deer battle plan of strategically placed fishing line in order and several autistic spreadsheets about companion planting. If I fail, it won't be for lack of tism.)
I'm a little noob
on 12/10/2019 10:58:26 AM
Welcome to the site! I look forward to reading your stories.
This man is real and not a gimmick
on 12/10/2019 10:54:23 AM
To be fair, it's kind of a dad's job to embarass his kids. Though this is on a whole other level from dad jokes, the ol' pull my finger, and karoake night.
2 Minutes Hate: Now with omnidirectional vitriol!
on 11/29/2019 9:10:40 AM
Oh this gave me a nice chuckle to go along with my morning coffee.
I bet she had a meltdown in their discord about it, did anyone manage to witness it?
Chopped II: Sauget Illinois
on 11/29/2019 8:50:41 AM
Sorry for the belated reply, but yeah that sounds great!
Chopped II: Round II
on 11/22/2019 11:12:59 AM
Dish: Canape Sampler (Caprese Crostini with Roasted Cicada Crumble, Smoked Octopus? Tartar on Sweet Potato Chip Canapes, and Peach Raccoon Bacon Canapes)
Ethel smiles to herself, the ingredients are absolutely perfect! She had been hoping for ingredients that would work for canapes in the appetizer round. Hurrying to gather her ingredients she wastes no time. Firing up her smoker, she adds the wood chips to get it going just right. In the last round, her success had been with the judges, but she now knew that the audience and wandering food critics were just as important. She never makes the same mistake twice, that's how she's made it to such a ripe old age after all!
The octopus slithers about as she pulls it from the can, saving the juices leftover for later. The creature is difficult to kill all right, but Ethel goes to town on it with vigor ill-fitting of her age. Chopping the writhing mass of octopus? until it is finely diced she scoops the finished product in a large deep pan that she then places in the smoker. For her cicadas, Ethel spreads them whole on a baking sheet and puts them in the oven to bake thoroughly. Next, she begins working on the raccoon meat. Breaking down the animal she cuts the meat into strips which she then drapes over the rotating racks in the smoker. Bacon, even when made out of raccoon meat, is best when smoked after all.
Next Ethel begins slicing the sweet potatoes with her mandolin, getting the chips very thin so that they will crisp up perfectly. These she spreads out on sheet pans with olive oil drizzled on top and a sprinkling of octopus? juice and a little bit of brown sugar. Putting them in the oven, she then gets out her bread. The baguettes are crusty, just the way she needed them to be! Slicing them up she also arranges them on sheet pans before brushing them with extra virgin olive oil. They just need to toast a bit.
Ethel hums to herself happily as she fires up the grill, putting a griddle pan on top of the flame. Pulling out the bacon from the smoker, she begins frying up the strips. She adds a dash of octopus? juice to the pan, watching it flame up for a moment before settling down as the bacon soaks up the salty liquid. The raccoon bacon sizzles pleasantly as Ethel begins to peel and slice peaches. She alternates grilling peach slices and flipping bacon in the pan. Bringing out the cream cheese she sets it in a bowl so she can grind rosemary leaves in her mortar and pestle. Next, she combines the two together to create a rosemary cream cheese mixture. Once that's done she begins putting a generous spread of cream cheese over half of the toasted baguette slices followed by a drizzling of honey. She then carefully places a slice of grilled peach right in the middle. The sweet fruit has a lovely color contrasted by the dark grill marks. As the final touch, Ethel breaks the bacon into small pieces and arranges them aesthetically around the peach slice. The cream cheese holds them in place.
For her next canape, she takes the other half of the toasted baguette slices and tops them with a generously thick slice of fresh mozzarella cheese. Taking out the roasted cicadas, she spreads them on a cutting board, Ethel uses a fork to break them up into crumbles and puts them in a bowl. She then brings out her roma tomatoes and slices them up, placing the slices on top of the mozzarella as she goes. Once all the baguettes are topped, she sprinkles black sea salt and pepper on top and puts them back in the oven to bake. While they bake, she slices up fresh basil leaves and gently stirs them into a mixture of balsamic vinegar, and extra virgin olive oil. Once the mozzarella and tomato topped baguettes have crisped up and the mozzarella just the right amount of melty, she pulls them from the oven. Sprinkling the roasted cicada crumbles on top she then drizzles the balsamic mixture over it carefully.
Now for the grand finale! Ethel brings out shallots and begins to mince them thoroughly, she also finely chops some capers before putting it in a very large mixing bowl. Next, she pulls the smoked octopus? from the smoker and gently scoops it into the bowl as well. She then adds mustard and zests a lemon before juicing it and adding the liquid to the mixture. Combining it gently, she sets it to the side for later use. Bringing out fromage blanc, parsley, and chives she sets about to snipping the chives and chopping the parsley before combing them with the creamy French cheese. Smiling to herself she then pulls her perfectly crisped sweet potato chips from the oven. She spoons the herbed fromage blanc onto them gently so as not to break any chips then tops each one with a generous helping of the freshly made octopus? tartar.
Finished, Ethel takes a moment to eye her creations. While they are all the same style of appetizer, the different canapes all have to compliment each other. She's confident that they will, as each one is savory with a hint of sweet. Plus she made sure to use octopus? juice in place of salt on the two canapes that did not contain actual octopus? in them. It will be a subtle note of flavor, but it should tie the three together on top of the savory-sweet highlights.
Carefully, she sets about the task of plating for the judges. Two of each canape graces the plates. She then takes them up to the judges, smiling sweetly at them as she presents them the appetizers. She then returns to her stall and looks out at the audience. Smiling sweetly at them she waves at a few friendly-looking faces. She knows she needs their support to move.
"Oh, what lovely people you are. Why you remind me of my late grandson, he was such a dear. Why don't you all come and have some canapes?" She offers with a sweeping gesture toward her cart.
Some people meander over and she serves them plates of six canapes each, just like the judges. She gives each person a big smile and kind words. "You all deserve the best and Grandma Ethel is going to give you just that, my dearies!"