In his last moments, a man thinks longingly back on what he could've done to save himself and, more importantly, his daughter.

Now that it's officially 2024 (where I live) I felt compelled to stop by this website I used to care about and say Happy New Year

God bless you all and enjoy this year

I'm (very) late to the party but jsyk feeling like that is often a symptom of depression

Not saying you have depression, but just be aware

Oh, and Emily doesn't realize she's in a car because she's put in the back of a van that's furnished to look like a room. Emily thinks it could be a lot of things, but one of those things isn't a car.

First of all, thanks for actually responding.

Second of all, I think you brought up a lot of good points in your review that I'll be sure to implement in my next draft.

Okay, so I wrote an excerpt for a story. I asked my sister, a friend, and ChatGPT what they thought of it (generally positive reviews). Unfortunately for me, I can't be satisfied with my loved ones' opinions, so I had to come to the most brutally honest and soulless people on the internet I know to review it, too.

Jokes aside, I can usually rely on the people on this website to provide their genuine, honest opinions on my writing (just see my other forum posts...), so I'm going to ask y'all to once again read my work and tell me what you think.

Oh, and no, this isn't for CYS. I've realized by this point that as interesting as the prospect of making a choose-your-own-adventure story is, it's just not my forte.

Here's the excerpt:

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August 15th, 2023

Miami, Florida

“The tragic incident that occurred on the night of October 19th, 2017 has, by this point, become an urban legend. Countless crime shows, podcasts, and news sites have told the same version of the events.” Delan continued as if reading from a script.

“Victor Ravan, or Vratel, had gone crazy for some unknown reason and compulsively killed his family and closest friend. He remorselessly fled the scene and founded the RVL as a front to protect himself from justice. His proteges were ordinary people who had been fooled into believing that he was innocent somehow, and who had been brainwashed into his service.”

“Not everybody who tells that lie does it to be malicious. Most of them, in fact, are just trying to raise awareness of the tragedy and garner sympathy for Emmanuel, Natalie, and Sarah. But the people who made it up did it knowing that they had been responsible for the deaths. Knowing that they were the ones who deserved justice. And, knowing the truth behind the story, I find that particularly brutal on their end. And I know you’re dying to know what actually happened, so I’ll give you the rundown.”

October 19th, 2017

Victor Ravan was good friends with Emmanuel Ortega. They’d known each other since they were teens. Victor was now 40, Emmanuel 38, and they trusted each other with their lives. Their friendship had lately been dashed with tension after Victor found out about Emmanuel’s involvement in company corruption, but they had both gotten past it. As far as Victor was concerned, the two were on good terms.

As was their tradition almost every month for the past 20 years, Emmanuel came to Victor’s place on the third Thursday for three hours and enjoyed a three-course meal. October 19th was no different.

Dinner came and went, with no hostility being shown by either party, and both seemingly enjoying the monthly ritual.

“Man, I still can’t believe you have like… a whole family now,” Emmanuel remarked, a sort of dubious wist in his eyes.

“Yeah… I don’t really know how it happened either. She’s clearly way out of my league,” Victor said beginning to laugh.

“Babe!” Natalie said, playfully. “What’d I say about patronizing me?”

“I wasn’t patronizing you, I promise you, you’re beautiful and amazing, and all that…” he said, teasingly.

All the while, while this went down, Emmanuel silently watched them, rubbing his knuckles, anticipating the brutal turn that night was about to suffer. 

Natalie, Sarah, Emmanuel, and Victor went to the couch after dinner to reminisce on old times and catch up on anything new. It was something they’d done for years, their way of staying close.

“Remember that road trip we went on back in 2007? When we’d just gotten married and went to Georgia?” Natalie said.

“Oh my God, please don’t remind me,” Victor groaned. “That was the worst thing I have ever done. Why did we ever take that beat-up minivan through the deep south in the hottest month of the year?”

“Yeah, that was… something,” Emmanuel added.

A silence followed.

“Hey, Em, you okay? You seem pretty quiet tonight.” Natalie asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he responded. “Just got a lot on my mind…”

“Oh,” Victor said. “Feel like sharing?”

“No,” Emmanuel immediately said.

The conversation continued for the next seven minutes, Victor and Natalie doing most of the talking, Sarah adding her own colorful comments, and Emmanuel chiming in once every few minutes with a vaguely nostalgic comment. At 9:33 pm, he excused himself to use the restroom.

“Emmanuel seems… off. You think we should try to talk to him about it? In case he needs help?” Natalie asked.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Vratel answered. “If he feels the need to open up, he will. If not, he probably won’t need to.”

Unbeknownst to them, Emmanuel didn’t excuse himself to the restroom to actually relieve himself. While there, he produced a sleek, silver pistol from his jacket.

“I’m so sorry, Victor,” he said, his voice a turbulent storm of duty, despair, and remorse. “I’m so, so, sorry…” He didn’t want to do this. But it was Victor’s life or his, and that wasn’t much of a choice for him.

He pushed open the bathroom door and began walking back to the living room. He needed to be swift and effective—to not leave anyone behind.

As he reached the entrance to the living room, he raised his gun to Natalie.

The three looked at him, warmly, but their expressions quickly turned to ones of confusion and horror. 

“Oh my go—” Natalie began to scream, but her words were quickly cut short by a loud shot that rang through the whole house. Her head rocketed backwards when it was hit, but most of her weight had been shifted forward already. Gravity got the best of her body and her head hit the coffee table with a sickening thud.

“Natalie, no!” Victor shouted.

“Mommy!” Sarah cried.

“What are you doing?” Victor exploded, never having expected to be betrayed like this by his closest friend.

“No witnesses, Victor,” Emmanuel said, his voice shaking wildly. “Not even your precious daughter.”

“Emmanuel, please, no—”

Sarah turned to Emmanuel who raised his gun, and then to Victor, her eyes flooded with terror and confusion, tears pooling on her eyelids.

“Daddy, help me—” 

Another shot.

Sarah’s lifeless body crumpled under its own weight and she hit the floor within seconds. She was only six years old, and lost her life to the bitter throes of the corrupt YHA.

Victor had loved Sarah more than anyone else in this world. He swore to protect with his life from the very first moment he held her in his hands. But now he failed to save her. He broke the first promise he made to his daughter, and he could do nothing to change that.

Emmanuel swiftly rose the gun to meet Victor’s stare. But before he could shoot, Victor lunged at him over the couch and knocked the firearm from his hands. Filled with rage and blinded by fury, he unleashed a series of punches on the man, breaking his nose and bruising him all over.

Still, Emmanuel wasn’t completely helpless. Victor was about 50 pounds heavier and a half foot taller, but he didn’t have a weapon.

Emmanuel grabbed a knife he had stowed away in his pocket. He swung it around and stabbed at Victor wildly, hoping to do something. And he did: he stabbed and slashed Victor all over his chest and arms and stomach. One cut even penetrated his face, leaving a nasty scar on his left eye. Victor leaned back and grabbed at his face, hoping to limit the bleeding.

The gun, meanwhile, had slid into the dining room. Emmanuel scrambled to his feet and leaped for it. Victor, watching him closely, lunged after him, slamming into the table. His weight broke one of the legs and toppled it. Emmanuel and Victor both grabbed opposite ends of the gun at the same time and grappled over it for a few seconds. 

Finally, Victor ripped the pistol from Emmanuel’s hands and rose again. He stepped back a few feet, putting some distance between the two. He aimed it straight at his forehead, and he froze.

Emmanuel raised his hands into the air, recognizing his defeat.

“V-V-Victor,” He pleaded, backing up away from him. “I didn’t—they forced me to do this, Victor—”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!” Victor shouted, following him past the toppled dining table.

“Victor, please, please, I didn’t want to do this… please, please, forgive me…” Emmanuel begged, backing himself into the living room, where it all started.

“YOU’RE A MONSTER! YOU DESERVE TO DIE!” He cocked the gun.

“Victor, you don’t understand, they-they-they won’t stop here. They won’t stop until you’re dead, Victor. And if they can’t kill you, they’ll find a way to blame this all on you… please, just don’t kill me—”

A shot rang through the house once more. Emmanuel, who’d expected to swiftly deliver death to the Ravans and pin it on Victor, had his comeuppance served to him in the form of a bullet. 

The moments immediately following the incident were filled with despair, grief, sorrow, and Victor’s realization that his life had been torn apart.

It wasn’t until he heard the police sirens that he remembered Emmanuel’s last words, that they—probably the YHA—would blame Victor for these crimes. He couldn’t let that happen. He would avenge his daughter and wife. He would expose the corruption that the association had weaponized against him and bring justice for those who died at their hands.

Immediately, Victor went to Emmanuel’s body and grabbed his phone. He grabbed the man’s hand, took off his gloves, and used it to unlock the phone. As quickly as he could, he put registered his own fingerprint as well. He then ran over to the entrance of his home and searched for Emmanuel’s wallet. He found it sitting on a stool. He then grabbed the gun from the floor. 

Heading for the door to the backyard, he turned around one last time to see Natalie and Sarah in the living room. Tears streamed down from his eyes as he pushed out into the patio.

That night, Victor fled his humble home and solemnly swore to get justice for his family, for himself, and even for Emmanuel. He formed the RVL over the following months to gather incriminating information on the YHA’s corruption so he could finally expose them as the villains they were, and to mitigate whatever effects their evil deeds had on the people until the day he brought them down.

August 15th, 2023

“So now you know. I hope that makes sense to you, at least somewhat. I’m sure you have questions, but unfortunately, I need to go back to the front for now and help the driver with… something,” Delan said, rising to his feet. He opened a door behind him.

“Wait, driver? Are we in a car?” Emily asked.

“Yes. We’re in a car. But we’re not driving yet. We’re about to leave now.”

“Can you at least answer a few questions?

“No, I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. Until then, think about what I’ve told you.”

“Hold on, who’s driving?”

“See for yourself.”

The driver leaned over from where he was and peered out the door. Emily didn’t see much of his face, but she gasped in instant recognition.

There was a scar through his left eye. 

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I should mention two things.

First of all, if you think that the moments after Victor shoots Emmanuel aren't described well enough, it's because they were already described in greater detail earlier.

Second of all, if the thing decides to be retarted and not make any line breaks, I'm very, very sorry. I don't fully remember how this works. I'm sure one of the gods mods will be kind and graceful enough to add them if they aren't there.

Edit: It actually worked. Huh

First, you have to get to know the game. Find out what it likes, what it doesn't, etc... Then you have to decide whether or not you think the game is willing to be in a relationship, with you or with anyone. Next, you have to give clues and try to hint that you like the game, too, and gauge its reaction to that. Lastly, you ask the game out and hope for the best. 

Hope this helps!

It is going to be a really short story, but of course this isn't the final draft. I have to go back an make a second or third draft for the opening until it works, which this draft doesn't. So the next draft will include more detail.

I'll keep that in mind when I'm writing in this guy's personality. Thanks!

I know, and when I first had this idea a few months ago I didn't know how I would do that. I decided on this:

• Each time you play the game (assuming you never go back) you only get to make 5 choices, each a different thought.
• For each choice, you have two options. The point of the game is to try again when the five seconds are over and gradually find out more about the man and his relationship with Francesca (the daughter). For instance, the first choice you have you can pick that he thinks of their good memories together, where you'll find out about his wife's death and how he stepped up to the plate to protect her. However, if you choose the other option (thinking about how bad a father he was) you'll learn that the girl was an accident and he wanted his wife to have an abortion. It's all about the individual thoughts he has as you progress in the game. When he dies, I assume they'll want him to die happy, right?
• It is intentionally meant to be replayed.

I personally think it's a good idea, though unconventional (I may be very wrong).

Yeah, that's fair. What do you suggest I do, then?