ninjapitka, The Master Scrivener

Member Since


Last Activity

4/21/2021 8:55 AM

EXP Points


Post Count


Storygame Count


Duel Stats

11 wins / 13 losses


Notorious Marauder Exemplar


Half an hour later he was sitting in front of the blank screen, thinking he had to be a glutton for punishment.

Trophies Earned

Earning 100 Points Earning 500 Points Earning 1,000 Points Earning 2,000 Points For contributions of being the creator of stories of remarkable quality on this site. Having 4 Storygame(s) Featured Rated 95.2% of all Stories Given by EndMaster on 08/30/2020 - For multiple contributions to the site Given by Gower on 03/22/2021 - "...first taking a few gulps from your waterskin. It’s not cold. It tastes slightly of the leather pouch." Given by MadHattersDaughter on 03/11/2021 - For your sheer amount of and incredible stories. Who did you sell your soul to for some spare time? Given by mizal on 03/29/2020 - For silently and sneakily becoming one of the most valuable authors on the site, and being a great reviewer. Given by Will11 on 03/25/2020 - For your excellent stories, positive attitude and dedication to writing :)


An alcoholic writer. His career going nowhere. The daughter of a business tycoon. Author's note: This story is dedicated to Jay in response to their constructive feedback left on Unbroken. Thank you, truly, for being the inspiration behind the title. Enjoy.

Strength of body, strength of will. Both are required. A man's freedom depends on his willingness to act, to rise against those who would place him in chains. Small choices add up, building towards differing outcomes. In the moment, one does not often know the implications of his actions. Inevitably, all is revealed. Author's Note: There are several "cinematic" links in the story. You will have the option to view multiple events happening simultaneously. While not adding to the branching, they do offer deeper insight into the story.

Pitka's Fables

Hello. It's me, Pitka ("Ninja" to my friends), your morality guide. Together, we will embark on a journey filled with lessons on life and ethical behavior, while having fun along the way, of course!

I've written a series of short fables for your benefit. Come, take my hand as we navigate through life's innermost difficulties.

Author's note:

Entry for Bucky's Year's End Contest.

Sheol's Passage and the Fallen
Thoughts appearing as fragments. A mind shattered. Broken. Weak. One of us. Author's Note: Official endings will be titled "Epilogue." There are seven total to discover.

Sterling City
She offers everything a man could want. Sterling City, an unsteady lover, but a lover nonetheless, filled with gunfire, liberal women, and elevator dings! One day her embrace is warm, and the next, it's the cold shoulder and couch for you, baby. Best to get out while the going's good. Author's Note: Contest entry for IWT 13: The Resurrection.

Sterling Suburbs
It's the 'burbs, baby. Wipe that city grime off on the door mat. You know what, why don't you just remove those filthy shoes entirely. She's calm, collected, and safe. Sterling Suburbs, nothing like her erratic sister, filled with carpool lines, trick or treaters, and a steady supply of Budweiser. Author's Note: Written for Mara's Halloween Writing Jam. A small-sized, suburb-dwelling Sterling City spin-off!

Featured Story The Book and Devil's Altar
A new day. The chance to move on. Weigh the options, then commit. Whether you choose right or wrong, the journey begins by taking a step forward. The Hunter, a man marked by tragedy, plagued by the internal voice. His past appears as phantoms, seeking to claim his soul. The Sorceress, places little value on the lives of men. Humanity is but an obstacle on her rise to power. The Warrior, built by honor. Straightforward in battle, straightforward in thought. The Rogue, unable to leave behind what isn't his. Some artifacts are best left as they are. The Book, a tome of black magic. Ancient curses rest in its pages, longing to be read. Author's note: There are six official endings to discover, two of which have characters crossing over from Sheol's Passage and the Fallen. Entry for EndMaster's Edgelord Contest 2.

The King's Command

The Providence of Kria consists of two major nations: The Kingdom of Brelia and the tribal territory of Rath. The ten-year peace between Brelia and Rath is quickly unraveling. In attempt to prevent another war, heir to the throne of Brelia, Prince Urijah, is sent on a diplomatic mission to appeal to the Rathans. In your older brother's absence, the burden of defending the kingdom falls to you. Your choices will determine the fate of the kingdom.

Runner-up for Corgi's Unofficial Contest: The Lords of the Land.

9/1/19 Update: Corrected a few punctuation errors

Featured Story The Sanguine and Blackbeard's Cutlass
Taking place during the Golden Age of Piracy, assume command of The Sanguine as you plunder and search for treasure in the profitable Caribbean. In this swashbuckling fantasy, you embark on a dangerous quest to an ancient Aztec civilization. Peril lies behind every tree, stone, and indigenous spear.

Author's note:

The story adds fantasy elements to events occurring in the 1700s. There are many real life characters and places in the story. Many are factually accurate, and many are not. I highly encourage you to research the people, places, and deities after reading.

Entry for Gower's Battle in the Ruins of a Dead Civilization contest.

Featured Story Twin Arrows

1852 - The Territory of New Mexico

The hunt has taken me to to the outer edges of civilization. Out here, lawlessness abides. There are no godly folk. Only heathen. The inner demon in me can relate to the call of anarchy. No rules, being bound by nothing; it sounds like freedom. In the end, that "freedom" is simply the self-indulgent, care-free living that is a poison upon humanity. If killing a man will save society from the infection of lawlessness, then I will gladly do what is necessary.

You eye the journal at your lap. The freshly written ink expands and bleeds to the perfect width of the quill. Satisfied that it won't smear, you shut the book and toss it aside. The meager fire at your feet does little to warm your body, but its original use was already completed. The frail, thin-boned squirrel did little to satisfy your hunger. Still, it would keep you alive until the next meal. You pull the leather waterskin from your pack to gauge how much longer it would last. With a gentle shake, you estimate it'll last a couple more days with strict rationing.

The road is lonely. In a former life, you dreamed about wandering the world without any responsibility or burdens. The reality of the road's harsh living conditions were nothing like the trigger-happy romanticized versions of the lawless west. Here there are no home-cooked meals, no warm body to lie next to yours. It's only you and the necessary task. Someone had to die.

You gaze up at the night sky. It seemed foreign at first. Without city lights to disorient the constellations, it looked like an entirely new sky. If you traveled at a good pace, you'd reach Canyon Diablo by midday. You pull the bone-carved pipe from your pack and light a match against the sole of your foot. You lie down on your bedroll, breathe in the relaxing tobacco, and drift off to sleep...

Author's Note:

The Wild West is a dangerous place. Be sure to make good use of that "back" button. I've hidden three achievements throughout the story. Yes, your total score will show if you've discovered them or not. The highest score possible is an 8/8.

Point Breakdown:
Achievements: 1 point each
Epilogue: 5 points

Entry for mizal's Lone Hero contest.

8/28/19 Update: Fixed the symbols appearing in the description

Featured Story Unbroken
There is no escaping our nature. It simply exists. The voice within me, the one that causes me to commit terrible deeds, burns a low ember. Still, it remains, always present, always looking for fuel to burn. It wants to escape. I feel its lust. It wants to devour. This day is no different. I must battle the darkness within. Author's note: In various sections, you will be given the option to view a simultaneous event happening in the story. While not directly affecting you, the reader's path, they may create a more cinematic feel to the story. Originally written as the last page for Sixteen Words, I hope you enjoy my full adaptation of Contemplation.

Articles Written

Embracing the Writing Process
So you want to be a writer, huh? It ain't easy, kid.

Recent Posts

Mad Hatter's Daughter Appreciation Day! on 3/11/2021 9:58:21 AM

Johnnie Walker, Red. on 3/2/2021 11:08:13 PM
Guess Green didn't make the cut.

Johnnie Walker, Red. on 3/2/2021 9:00:17 PM
--- Two girls. Soulless laughter. Empty martini glasses. Suddenly, joined by two men. --- Back in the pocket went the little notebook, tucked close to the heart, a perfect black placeholder for where the ol’ ticker should be. The Midnight Pearl was full tonight, as most taverns are on Friday night. Groups of friends huddled around each other, filling the Pearl with inebriated laughs and voices. Let the hair down, honey. Time to relax. Those who arrived by themselves took their place at the bar, leaning heavy on the bar top, their shoulders visibly hunched by an unseen weight. Eddie sat alone. Writing helped him think. Words made sense on the page. They were comprehensible, a set of rules in which he could play in. Hey, you cheated! No fair! Structure, rules. A perfect sandbox to get his fingers dirty in, bending and twisting to his pleasure. He could think. He could analyze. He could… “Can I getcha another?” the gentle voice of the bartender spoke. Eddie had overheard her name earlier. Samantha. She was a pretty enough girl. Young face, fit body. Certainly pretty enough to tend bar. The red highlight in her hair, in combination with a nose ring, was just rebellious enough to say, I been through some shit. Eddie glanced down at the empty lowball in his palm. Wasn’t that just full…? Whatever the case, it’s as empty as a high school hallway in the summer. It’s as empty as the top section of an overturned hourglass. It’s as… Samantha gazed at Eddie expectantly, her attention far too patient for the crowded bar. She focused on Eddie, (like a momma singling out the little runt!) unlike the flippant ask of a passing waitress, checking the box, always on to the next table. “Sure, give me another,” Eddie said, pushing the lowball out. It slid with ease over the polished bar top. A game of miniature curling. Slide the glass, and a full one arrives in return. Good ol’ family fun. Only winners here! Except for Eddie’s liver, maybe. But the organ’s been fighting a losing battle ever since she passed. Just another day for the battered thing. As Samantha reached for the same bottle as before, the scotch with the RED LABEL, she spoke. “How’s your night going?” A casual question with loaded implications. See, the question itself was simple, easy. The answer, however, was a little more complicated, spanning a wide berth of potential responses ranging from “Good,” to “Shit. Utter shit. My wife was taken from me and my shitty-ass lawyer could only squeeze twenty-thousand dollars from the evil corporation that slowly poisoned her to death, and so now I’m slowly poisoning myself to death with the RED LABEL in hopes to be reunited with her.” Rein in the crazy, Crazy. “Good,” Eddie answered, a sudden rush of pent-up emotion rising to the surface, invisible to the public eye, of course. A simple question, yes. One answered with a returned casualness. Only the real answer was much more involved, and just because Eddie didn’t say the words, it didn’t mean the real emotions continued hiding. One hand on the glass of RED LABEL, the other reached for the inside of his breast pocket. The notebook held a quiet dignity. Not flashy by any means, never the center of attention. It served its purpose well, a vault of secrets, the literary punching bag for someone as untrained as Eddie. Words made sense on the page. They made sense flowing from his fingers. Less so, with what came out of his mouth. --- Two girls. Soulless laughter. Empty martini glasses. Suddenly, joined by two men. --- Eddie flipped past his most recent entry, glancing back to the where his subjects stood before. Two pairs of two were leaving, the double date obviously going well. Let’s get outta here, whuddya think? Take this party somewhere else. Change into something more comfortable. Nightcap. Want to come upstairs? How about… Pen hit the paper. There, but now absent. The memory of what once was, replaced with, with, with…nothing. The world moves on despite what cataclysm rests inside, the apparent destruction of one’s life having no effect on the world as a whole. Take it for what you will, either a comforting thought or a pure, unadulterated fuckin’ idea that nothing ever matters. His words were always a little more bold with the RED LABEL in hand. We’re at a crossroads here, bud. The road diverts into two. This train can travel either one of two ways. Pick one and move on. That’s all it takes. Close your eyes, spin the wheel, and crank that sucker. It’s a coin flip. Tails never fails! Success, accomplishment is down one path, destruction and ruin down the other. At least the road is kind enough to leave a signpost. There’s nothing quite like wandering down the road of success only to find it’s actually a one-way path straight to hell. Me? How kind of you to ask! I was chopped at the knees mid-stride, picked up, slung over the evil corporation’s back like a bag of fuckin’ potatoes, carried and tossed on the road, leaving my crippled, broken, and beaten body to slowly crawl on the path most tend to avoid, dirtying my knees, infecting my wounds, pressing on towards the merciful end. It didn’t make much sense. The entries rarely did. The black book wasn’t exactly a diary—certainly Eddie didn’t get specific with the words inside. Some things should never be written, private portions of his mind that he didn’t dare whisper aloud, let alone leave evidence. But the entries brought relief, at least for the passing moment. That could be different in a few minutes, but for now, he’s A-OK. Eddie glanced down. The lowball was empty again. He ordered another. The RED LABEL was nothing more than a small dent in the twenty-thousand, the sum a weight in his pocket matching the one on his shoulders. It could be donated to the RED LABEL Charity for all he cared. Perhaps this time the words would flow as easily from his mouth as they did on the page. The drain is clogged, honey. Nothing a strong liquid can’t help clear. Keep out of reach from children! Samantha’s eyes met Eddie’s. He ordered another.

Hatter's Sketchbook II on 2/15/2021 5:29:40 PM
Ha! Gaaaay.

Hatter's Sketchbook II on 2/15/2021 5:29:18 PM

My Story Progress on 2/12/2021 3:50:56 PM
Just with a brief scan, I'd suggest more variety with your sentence structure. If the majority is "you do this, you do that," then the reader's mind will wander. And for the large text block at the end, you might want to section it off. It can be the same person talking, but maybe throw in a few casual observences, like Yimdo crossing his arms or speaking at different volumes. Performing a bodily action with speech for emphasis could work well there, like describing hand gestures or tightening one's fist or a narrowing the eyes.

A new story? on 2/5/2021 5:55:43 PM
If you make this into a storygame, people are mostly going to care about what happens in the war. Everything else that you've written is background and set in stone, which will play a part in who the main character is, but it won't be the events the readers are clicking through unless you include lots of flashbacks. It's hard to comment on a branching story idea when you've told us everything that's happened before he heads off to war. Perhaps your next step is plotting out events to take place while he's fighting in the war if you haven't already.

Edgelord 2 Contest Results on 2/3/2021 5:42:21 PM
@hetero_malk is truly a writer deserving of a contest trophy and a featured story. You should all read, rate, and review Winter. Let's all hope the man publishes more stories this year. Now for some reason, I'm craving some Darkest Dungeon.

Parallel universes on 1/26/2021 4:38:38 PM
Who's to say Phil can't be an unassuming accountant AND a hooker trying to sell you crack? I don't mind reading it either way as long as it fits within the context of the story branch. If there are infinite possibilities to the way a story can be told, then having drastic changes between branches aren't a big deal in my opinion. When it comes to my own stuff, I like having events mostly set in place. The reader can navigate through a familiar setting, but discover interactions or perspectives that can only be found through a different branch.

Steam-Powered Dildo for POTUS on 1/17/2021 9:32:34 AM
Google tends to do that with redundancy.