Forums » Creative Corner » Read Thread

Mr. Grover yawned loudly and glanced at his watch. 3:00 P.M. "Won’t the time pass by faster?" At work, he often observed a curious phenomenon where time seemed to trickle, bit by bit, like maple molasses gently dripping from an old can, the way it used to when Mr. Grover’s mom would make her delicious shoofly pies. God, how much he missed those! Despite living in New York, nothing hit the same way as your mom’s cooking, Mr. Grover thought. Lost in reminiscing, he almost missed the giant rock hurtling towards the window on his right side, framed like a beautiful, shiny, crunchy pecan in his mom’s pecan pie.

Wait, giant rock?

Boom! The rock crashed right through the window and shattered his shiny new mahogany wood desk, luckily leaving Mr. Grover unscathed as he narrowly dove to the side. A large, gigantic robot slowly came into view, with special focus on the giant twin blades protruding from the fists of the robot and eyes that could shoot red-hot lasers instantly. The gigantic robot proceeded toward the Griggins and Golgins Insurance Firm Building where Mr. Grover worked as an insurance adjuster. As it approached, mercilessly stomping on cars, trees, hot dog stands, and street lamps, a sudden figure in the distance zoomed in, knocking the robot backward.

"Don’t fear, citizens, your savior is here. It is I, Nuclear Megapunch. With the power of my Radioactive Kapow, I will slay this mechanical monstrosity and leave it writhing on the ground. Now stand back, and watch how evil that hides from the light fails to escape the stronghold of justice..."

“Stronghold of justice, Nuclear Megapunch, Radioactive Kapow—really, who wrote this insufferable crap? And what’s with this weird obsession with this random side character, Mr. Grover and his mom’s cooking?” Neil Gaddar angrily stood up and threw the unfinished screenplay on his desk. Behind him stood his assistant, a rather youngish man, still green and unused to the legendary and explosive temper tantrums of the thespians. He cowered as Neil advanced forward, lost in his tirade.

“I didn’t spend years of my life after Northwestern acting in shitty soaps to receive this pile of junk. I graduated from Northwestern theater, goddammit! And the first real shot I get, my agent gets me this crap. When he said a superhero movie, I thought it would be based on the life and dedicated service of the Steward, not this childish nonsense with flying robots. I used to do Hamlet, and now I’m a glorified CGI jockey!”

Neil’s assistant stepped forward and stammered, “But sir, market research suggests that the primary target audience, children ages 8–16, prefer this sort of film. Most of the kids weren’t even around when the Steward disappeared 13 years ago. Also, we still aren’t sure what character you're getting, and regardless, this is merely a draft. I’m sure changes can be made to your liking...”

Neil sighed loudly and stepped away from his assistant mid-sentence to take a smoke break. As he left, he ruminated. Neil regretted his outburst. After all, he himself was still new in the industry, with this being his first major commercial film. But how could the screenwriting be so bad? To take a man like the Steward—a man so humble that he disdained the flashy nicknames younger heroes would give themselves, a man who, upon discovering his powers, sought to use them for the benefit of mankind, eschewing fame and recognition—a man like that in a movie like this was antithetical.

But none of it was his assistant’s fault, he ruefully reflected. Neil was shocked at his outburst, as he prided himself on his calm demeanor and respectful manner. It must be the Hollywood air getting to him, already transforming him into one of those entitled, privileged divas in the tabloids.

A couple of weeks went by, and one day both the director and the writers were fired by the producers and replaced with more seasoned and capable ones. When Neil heard the news from his assistant, he breathed out a huge sigh of relief. Finally, he would be able to act in the film he really signed up for. Getting the chance to play the Steward was a huge honor. He was a man who, long ago, was working in a laboratory experimenting on CRISPR when, to stop some bank robbers, decided to edit his genome to give himself super strength, flight, invulnerability, super speed, and some amount of control over gravitational fields. Since then, he’d been faithfully serving the city, keeping everyone safe, and thwarting the schemes of the Mastermind.

The Mastermind. Neil winced as he thought of him. Another reason why Neil deeply despised the original script. Contrary to how the script portrayed him, the Mastermind was no fun little comic book villain. There were no cheesy speeches, grandstanding gestures, or convenient blunders allowing the hero to be victorious. The Mastermind was a soulless criminal, who was so feared that at one point, statisticians estimated that one in six people in the city had lost a family member or friend to the Mastermind’s schemes. No one really quite knew who or what the Mastermind was, as he specialized in building complicated machines of mass destruction. Nothing like the kaiju robot thing in the movie, a pale imitation of the very real threat of the Mastermind.

Both the Mastermind and the Steward disappeared after a furious battle that left the city of Northshore in ruins. The fact that the original directors and screenwriters were seriously planning on releasing a movie that disrespected the Steward’s legacy, as well as cheapened the loss of life caused by the evil of Mastermind, was astounding.

“Mr. Neil!” Neil’s assistant called. “Casting is in, and it looks like you’re cast as the Mastermind. The role of the Steward ended up going to Matt Kasbith. Apparently, he was really thrilled to do this role.”

Neil was surprised. This was definitely going to be a tough role. But if he did it right, he could achieve his wildest dreams. No one would ever laugh at him again. No longer would he have to act with undisciplined hacks only interested in partying and whiling time away. It was time that he embraced his destiny.

“Is this a bad time?” Matt Kasbith walked in.

“No, not at all. How are you? It’s really exciting to work with you,” said Neil.

Neil was in awe of Matt Kasbith. Coming from a similar background like his—working in soaps and random student films for almost eight years, doing anything for the money and stability—he suddenly came on the scene five years ago and starred in a slew of critically acclaimed and commercially successful films.

“Now listen, I don’t have much time. I have to attend a dinner. I’ve seen some of your earlier work, Neil. You seem like a promising young man. But here’s the thing. When working with me, it’s a whole ‘nother level. You have to be at your best, and I’m not just your co-star, I’m also your boss. I’ll decide on takes, and if you can’t hack it, I’ll find some other young actor to take your place. You’re replaceable. Just remember that.”

With that ominous warning, Matt left.

Over the next few months, Matt stuck to his word. During takes, the director, assistant director, and Matt would all scrutinize Neil’s acting, ruthlessly tearing him down, and a couple of times, even reducing him to tears. Neil was in shock. He knew the conditions in Hollywood would get bad, but he had no idea the extent to which everything would just pile on itself and crush him under the weight of his own hubris.

But he had to succeed. This was life and death. He had a name to create for himself, and he wasn’t going to stop because of some mild pressure from work. In fact, the more time he spent on set, he felt this weird sensation crawling around his insides, inducing anxiety and stress. It was strange how literal frustration and anger appeared like a chimera, sometimes even in his dreams, swirling round and round his psyche.

One day, after a brutally painful shoot where he fumbled several times during a lengthy cinematic monologue—untrue to the character but positively brimming with anger and vile sentiments—Matt furiously slapped him as hard as he could. He knocked Neil to the ground, then turned around and recited the monologue completely perfectly. Without another word or a glance at poor Neil lying on the ground, he walked away.

When Neil drove home, still brimming with shame, anger, and humiliation, he was fixated on Matt’s performance. How does he do it? How does he deliver the dialogue so perfectly, with just the right inflection, with emphasis on the right places, completely flawlessly on the first take? Wasn’t Matt just another TV serial actor too? How does he do it?

That night, instead of falling asleep and getting ready for the 6 A.M. shoot tomorrow in the meat freezer, Neil went down a Matt Kasbith rabbit hole. As he clicked through article after article and video after video, the image of Matt Kasbith’s smug mug burned into his retinas. In the videos, Matt appeared relaxed and calm, expounding on the power of belief, and how he truly becomes his characters, whether they be disgruntled cowboys, shopkeepers, or police officers.

Neil looked through tons of film analysis blogs, random internet forums, video interviews, Wikipedia pages—and yet he found nothing. Until he saw a random interview from 2019, where, fresh from the success of his third film, Matt Kasbith spoke about his fondness for method acting—a type of acting where the actor lives and acts like the character they’re playing until it becomes impossible to distinguish the player from the role. Matt described the work of actors like Heath Ledger preparing for roles like the Joker, and how dedicated they were.

Neil realized that that’s probably what Matt Kasbith expected of him. In order to prove himself and make Matt proud, he would need to embrace the challenge. Neil knew that he would have to take method acting to a whole new level and truly embrace his character. It was quite a strange thought indeed, and Neil had the realization of just how much filming this movie had changed him. His initial impressions of the Mastermind were really different indeed. But a job is a job, and it was time.

Neil found it difficult at first. Like all great actors, the true artist embraces the darkness of his mind, and Neil needed to tap into that. Day by day, he worked, starting small at first. Deftly sidestepping grocery store scanners laden with bags of hot Cheetos and chocolate milk, and sharply shutting doors on old women on walkers, he was finally leveling up.

No longer the pathetic loser who had trouble with enunciation and tonation, Neil decisively spoke his lines with a kind of confidence that only comes from grabbing life by the throat. He looked back on the last two weeks with pride as he saw his prowess increase. Matt too began to warm up to him, almost as if he instinctually sensed what Neil was doing.

As Neil walked out of set after a great shoot where he battered several extras around with a robotic arm, he slowly gazed outside. His eyes seemed to skim past the K-Mart, Kohl’s, H&M, Wendy’s, and Olive Garden in the shopping complex in front of the studio and move, almost as if of their own accord, to the right—fixing on the Metro Goldman Bank. Big shots and famous oil barons were said to store their money there.

It was like Lady Luck and Gentleman Opportunity both met and showed him the path, illustrated by a glowing line leading straight to success, wealth, and power. But how was he going to pull off such an ambitious undertaking?

Neil glanced at the Mastermind suit he was still wearing from the shoot. To his surprise, as he thought those words in his mind, the suit started to glow. A disturbing thought occurred to him: "What if this suit can read my mind?" As soon as he thought that, the scarlet and purple bodysuit began to morph. A protective helmet encased his head, and armor encased his torso at light speed. Twin dual laser swords appeared in both of his hands.

He grinned to himself. As he walked towards the front desk, people began to stare. He knew they must have been intimidated by the awesome power of his suit. A security guard approached from behind.

"Sir, we allow no weapons inside the building, so I suggest you take off this suit at once."

Neil laughed maniacally. In response to the security guard's remonstration, he slashed the laser sword across a marble podium, neatly slicing it in half. As the top half slid off, the guard blanched and slowly backed away. Neil then triumphantly strode into the building like he owned it.

"What else can this suit do", he thought to himself. Neil remembered reading in comic books as a kid that the Mastermind suit was a neural interface designed to be intuitive. He thought about flying, and rocket boosters appeared from the footpads, propelling him into the air. He then rocketed forward through two walls, causing untold destruction before reaching the vault.

The suit had a powerful proton cannon he could use, but that would only suffice for one layer and needed to be charged.

He remembered an old TV show in which he was an extra. He had played a security guard whose only line was, "You’ll never get through the complex three-layered vault!" to the villain. Despite himself, Neil shuddered at the recollection of his old acting roles. One of the key plot points of the TV show involved how some of these old vaults were made out of the same steel that comprised ships like the Titanic, so the villain froze the vault to get in.

"What if it were really vulnerable to ice?" As if in response to that rhetorical question, a shoulder blaster appeared, slowly rising from the suit, and in unison, fired an ice blast at the first layer. The door came crashing down and shattered at his feet.

Now, for the two other layers. Neil slowly exhaled in disbelief and despair. In contrast to the sturdy, old-fashioned nature of the first door, this new door looked incredibly modern. Neil scanned the exterior. Made out of stainless titanium, the door seemed impenetrable and impossible to break. A tiny passcode adorned the exterior, so small Neil almost didn’t even see it.

Neil was in a dilemma. Part of him was screaming at him to fly back and force someone to open the door for him. But something held him back. He knew the people in there were innocent and weren’t part of this.

Almost like a reflex, Neil’s fingers typed at the speed of lightning. The suit’s internal computer made complex calculations on the probability of the code being correct. Within three minutes, the screen flashed green, and the door swung open.

Facing the last door, Neil slowly licked his lips and activated the proton cannon. The air started to shimmer, and particles stopped as the cannon drew from the powers of the infinitesimal particles surrounding them. Light started to grow, and the cannon fired, shattering the safe door.

Neil rushed forward and shot a tractor beam toward the contents of the safe, holding them suspended in the air.

Sirens started to blare. "Oh fuck, the cops were coming! Why are they coming for me? I'm not a criminal, I'm just an actor.", he thought.

Neil was feeling so worried all of a sudden. "What am I doing", he thought to himself. This isn’t me.

But there was no time now. A voice in his head told him that he needed somewhere to go. He needed somewhere safe. He needed a lair.

To his surprise, he promptly knew what to do. Neil started walking toward a fire hydrant, and as he did so, he twisted the cap off. It came off easily, sliding like butter. Neil then slid down the impossibly small gap and went down in a tube that transported him somewhere so fast it took his breath away.

When he got his breath back, Neil walked out into a giant underground cavern featuring technological marvels and weapons he could only dream of. He saw plasma cannons, laser swords, technological suits capable of immeasurable power, spaceships, rocket ships, and even a time machine—though it looked to be defunct.

With this kind of power, forget a bank. Neil could take on the U.S. Army itself.

5 months later

"Ughhhhhhhh. Fuck, my head hurts", Neil thought to himself as he woke up in a ball, with worn clothes, half-shaven, in a corner of the lair. Five months ago, he found this place, and now it was like he had lived there for years.

As time passed, he started to get horrible mental blackouts, forgetting where he was and what he was doing. He glanced at the display case proudly housing his Mastermind suit. Or was it his? Why was it so powerful, a mere film prop? Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he was just dreaming or hallucinating everything that had happened.

That would be a relief, Neil thought, as his life was literally spiraling. He barely knew what the hell was going on, or where he even was. He would randomly turn on the TV and see terrible footage of orphanages burning down or ransacked police stations, then turn around and notice scorch marks and bullet holes on his sleeves.

He tried calling mental health lines, old friends, family, mentors, but an invisible hand always held him back. Other days, he would gaze triumphantly at the news, calling up random radio stations to make ridiculous demands or boast about the Mastermind coming back—only to call them back later and apologize.

Reports came in that the League of Heroes recognized him as a credible threat, and that they were authorized to use deadly force, scaring Neil greatly. Up seemed down, down seemed up, and he wasn’t sure what the hell was going on.

He would randomly get furious phone calls from set telling him he was going to be fired, that he was a disgrace to his profession. Other times, they praised him for a great shoot, almost like the outcome of a cosmic coin flipped by an angry god. Viewing clips of his own performances, he scared himself.

Strangely, throughout all this, Matt Kasbith stuck by him, saving his job many times. Matt had the talent of saying just the right thing to the right person and smoothing things over. Matt explained that great performers, including himself, go through this. True acting was putting on a new identity, and there was naturally going to be some resistance. But things always set in.

One day, Neil arrived on set, but to his surprise, he saw another man wearing a replica Mastermind suit. The director looked incredibly busy, coordinating a giant crane fall, as the other Mastermind started laughing viciously.

"What is going on?!" Neil blustered. He strode confidently toward the shoot, and to his surprise, he saw everyone wince at his appearance.

"Why did you replace me?" he asked the director.

The director took a while to respond and seemed to mentally stumble over his words. Neil could tell that he was barely containing his rage. Finally, the director couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"Do you know what the meaning of responsibility is?! You are an unknown actor, and the entire success of the movie depends on you. You have an obligation to fulfill, and by not fulfilling this obligation, you’re jeopardizing the success of the picture. This was your only shot, and you blew it! Now, get out!"

Matt slowly walked away, dejectedly, and as he left the set, Neil thought he saw Matt wink.

"Thank god they didn’t ask for the suit back," Matt shouted. Nanotech circled around the Mastermind’s suit, crawling all over as the specialized tech began the tedious job of replacing and repairing the A-grade steel with otherworldly alien tech on his gauntlets.

Neil was sitting alone in his lair, which, after being fired, had permanently become his new home. For the first time in a long while, his mind was finally clear. All that mental wrestling, and hesitation over what was supposedly right, was finally over.

Neil knew that his purpose in life was a higher calling, something far greater than merely acting. Otherwise, why would the suit have chosen him? Filled with calm and cold certainty, Neil began laughing—quiet at first, but fueled by some sort of Hamletian madness, it began resounding throughout the dark cave.

"Calling all units, calling all units," garbled the police scanner stashed away in a corner of the lair that Neil had nabbed a couple of days ago. "C-15 code red. Armed robbers are infiltrating the West Central Bank on 31 Fold Street."

Neil smiled as he heard the sounds of sirens zooming past his lair. Perfect.

Neil put on the Mastermind’s suit and prepared to head out.

Thirty minutes later, Neil stood outside the police station, amidst the thunder and the rain. Based on his calculations, the diversion he set up would give him two and a half hours—one hour for the police to get to the bank and one hour to come back. He noted the thunderous outpouring of rain, sure that it would hamper their progress.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing an array of cells filled with prisoners.

"Gentlemen, my name is the Mastermind! You may have heard of me, that I supposedly disappeared ten years ago. But the truth is, I’m back. I’m inspired to take back what is rightfully mine. I need an army, and I want to extend an offer to you to join me in my quest for glory."

The prisoners looked around at each other, stunned at first, but then they grinned broadly. They slowly got up and began to clap as one. The clapping continued, but then was overshadowed by a loud rumbling outside. The skylight at the top of the prison opened, and colorful bright figures streamed in.

The League of Heroes stood tall and proud, their naming belying their power and status. Neil’s eyes began to water as he recognized each one. Megaman, whose fists could punch through solid concrete; Morpheus, the god of sleep; Golden Dash, the man who outran death; and Super Knight, whose sword was sharper than the edge of obsidian.

The computer system inside Neil’s suit began making furious calculations, assessing threat levels of each individual superhero, processing motion trajectories, and preparing countermeasures. Good thing too, because before he could blink, they came at him on all sides.

Neil released a column of flame, which the Golden Dash narrowly dodged, and then he shot lasers from his twin gauntlet blasters. It was no time to be scared, he thought—this was a time for action.

Neil froze the floor around him, and as the Golden Dash returned around, he sharply skidded across the frozen floor and crashed into the opposite wall, right into Morpheus, who was raising his hands to cast an incantation.

Neil shook off the drowsiness and surged forward. But Mega Knight grabbed him, allowing for Super Knight to swing his powerful obsidian blade. As Neil saw the blade approaching, he activated his rocket boots, dodging the blade and shooting himself and Megaman high into the air.

Neil then took advantage of Megaman’s disoriented state to grab him and throw him toward Mega Knight. Almost like time stopped, all of the heroes remained eerily still on the ground. Strange, Neil thought—he expected them to put up more of a fight.

And weren’t there more heroes? He only spotted four: Super Knight, the Golden Dash, Morpheus, and Megaman. Suddenly he thought of the wind curtain that had inexplicably appeared earlier, and just like that, realized he was trapped.

A space opened in thin air directly behind Neil, and the Sidestepper came out and grabbed the mayor, then vanished to a safer location. Before Neil knew it, the League came at him with renewed force and captured him.

The menace of the Mastermind was over.

Two months later, Neil was languishing away in a solitary cell. He was surrounded by laser grids and armed robots constantly scanning his mind for resistance. But he had none. There was nothing left. His dreams were crushed and everything was in ruins.

Neil was so confused. He didn’t understand how method acting could lead to such a horrible outcome. It just didn’t add up. Where did all that specialized machinery come from? Where did the actual Mastermind suit come from? Why was he thinking he was the Mastermind, and how did he discover the Mastermind’s lair—a secret kept from even the likes of the Steward?

"It was I, Neil. I was the one who filled your head with dreams. I was the one who drove you to madness, snuck in the real Mastermind suit into production and set all these events in motion. I was the one who befriended you, and even saved your job all while abusing you just so you'd be stuck in exactly the place I wanted you to be. A confused haze of loyalty and revulsion, exactly the emotions I needed you to feel so I could gaslight you easier. All so you could eventually reach this moment in time." said Matt Kasbith, as he slowly walked in.

"How are you able to hear my thoughts? What the fuck are you even talking about?" said Neil, in surprise and shock.

"Because I am the Mastermind. The truth is, fourteen years ago, I disappeared because during the battle between me and the Steward, I hypersped us to Mars, and the shock of the interdimensional travel killed the Steward.

You see, I was in control the whole time, and I knew that I could assume power whenever I wanted to. I disappeared after killing the Steward because, although the Steward was gone, I couldn’t possibly deal with an angered and grieved League of Heroes, as well as the U.S. military, at the same time. I had to make a new identity for myself, so I became Matt Kasbith.

I toiled away for eight years with the sole purpose of finding a successor—someone who could take up the mantle for me and revive the legacy of the Mastermind. The problem was that all of my previous associates shunned me. They wanted no part of the Mastermind. Despite the amount of money I put into it, and time, no one was willing. Worse, they even tried to extort me by threatening to leak information to the League of heroes that the mastermind was still alive and well. Obviously, I couldn't have that so I was luckily able to kill them in time. But I realized that simply asking someone to take on this take wouldn't work. I needed to try something different. And soon.

I grew to love this profession. As I grew older, I realized how amazing being an actor was and I knew I wanted to do this for the rest of my life. But I couldn’t simply let the Mastermind die out. The Mastermind is so much more than you and I. He is a legacy, an inspiration to humanity.

So I began searching for the right candidate. It was a long and arduous search, because there were so many qualities that the candidate had to meet. I needed someone foolish, yet impossibly determined to take up the mantle. I needed someone with stars in their eyes, and someone full of themselves and completely gullible. When I met you, I realized that you were the right person. So I hatched a plan. I put a specialized neural-altering program in the helmet so that it starts to gradually overwrite your brainwaves with mine, transforming you into the Mastermind. You were doomed the moment you put the suit on, kid. I hypnotized you and slowly led you down the path of finding the equipment, of being desperate enough to become a criminal. But now you are something more.

I have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams, for you are now truly the Mastermind. Rise, and take your place in history, Neil."

With these ominous words, Matt slowly reached into his suit pocket, unseen by the guard’s eyes, and handed Neil a mysterious remote before opening a warp portal and departing forever.

The end.

tl;dr 

I lost interest somewhere in the middle of the second sentence.  But at a quick glance, you actually used paragraphs instead of a large text wall,  and I also noticed some punctuation,  so nice job.

If I posted a 5000 word story, then it's only fair that you actually read the whole thing before giving feedback. I can't believe you would lose interest in the middle of the 2nd sentence, try again.

Your writing is horrible and boring.  If it wasn't so bad perhaps I wouldn't have lost interest in a poorly written 5000 words.  How about you try again and actually do better.

I'm not going to waste my energy arguing with the likes of you. It's clear that you have nothing of substance to say here, so I'm going to disengage.

Besides, we'll see whose writing is really "horrible" and "boring" on May 1st. Thanks for the spite-fueled motivation; I may not win the prompt contest, but at the very least I will make sure I place above you. That's all I want from this thing.

lol, fag.

"The opening did not catch my interest" is valid feedback.

Any feedback is at least feedback, prick. What have you done do deserve their effort? You've rated one singular storygame (a good one, ironically) and didn't even leave a comment at all. Makes you a bit of a hypocrite, yeah?

But that's just another example of you not being able to back your own words. Both of the people you're lashing out at have actual published stories and all you have is this, which nobody thought was all that great. Yet you're out here claiming that you'll destroy them. You sound like me when I was new to the site— I have the excuse of being a petulant teenage girl, though. You're just cringy.

Who even are you? RK's evil twin? You haven't earned the right to hubris. The last person who overhyped their story and made bold claims in threads they made had a literal mental disorder. Have you considered going and getting some help? Maybe anger management, or something to help with a potential narcissism complex?

But you know what? Fine. I'll give you feedback, just to say that I tried when you inevitably crash and burn. Usually I'd be gentle with a story this long, as that clearly takes effort, but nah. If you'd just posted the story without the chest-thumping, I might've been more inclined to give it some respect.

The main character of this was boring. He's not just unlikable because he's a bad dude, he's unlikable because there's nothing in him that feels real and human. His dialogue is clunky. Imagine your character. What makes him tick? Give him some kind of reason for acting or talking. Imagine how he'd say his lines. Make those lines something he would say.

Also in that realm of things, there's no buildup. We don't see any of his personality beyond his outburst at the director, and that's immediately followed by regret. Why does he regret this? It says it's because he's new, but does he regret it because it could hurt his position, or create a negative look for him? Is he feeling genuine remorse for treating his potential coworkers terribly? You want a reader to be able to understand your narrator, even in a short story.

You're telling me a lot of conflicting things about the protag and giving some real mixed signals. He doesn't have a defined personality, just an odd conglameration of traits that don't even work well together.

Adjectives go in this order: determiner, quantity, opinion, size, age, shape, color, origin, material, purpose. It makes it sound more natural. Also, unless doing it specifically for effect, try avoiding repetitive adjectives like "large gigantic"

There are a whole lot of really weird phrasing that disengages a reader, like "a rather youngish man".

You should google "show, don't tell".

Small numbers, especially ten and below, should be written out in word form. If some numbers are spelled out, all of them have to be.

The pacing in this story is shit. You drag out unimportant moments and restate known things, then skip through important plot points like the writers and director getting fired.

I've noticed over one hundred grammar mistakes (no exaggeration), and a lot of them are comma-related. The least you could do is put this through Grammarly.

"Neil was surprised" is so bland. Tell me what he did that indicates his surprise. Raised eyebrows, a shocked line of dialogue— anything. You've seen real people, yeah? Well, maybe I shouldn't assume that social interaction is something you do often. See, usually people behave and speak in a way that shows their emotions without an author following them around and spelling it out for everyone. It's more interesting when a character can feel like a real person.

Tell me why Neil became an actor. What's his backstory? Or his story at all? Why should I care about him or this story? I don't have to care about something just because you wrote it. It's your job to make me care, and you suck at it.

The dialogue does not improve.

Build me the scene. Don't just tell me Neil got dogged on, write the fucking scene

Does none of this sound as though it's worded awkwardly to you? I'm having a hard time believing you reread this after initially writing it. Try messing around with sentence structures and wording until you find something that sounds right.

There's some tense shifting toward the end of the first half. You should watch that.

This dives very quickly into a fever dream, and we're given no explanation. You really expect that to keep our interest, when nothing else has even tried to?

Mistakes become more and more common as the story progresses. Don't be in a rush to get something out.

Five months later? You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Keep your own characters' names straight. This is already hard enough to follow without that.

Here I was thinking you said that Mastermind wasn't one for long, cheesy monologues.

 

Is there a level of creativity shown here? Sure. Is the story any good? No.

Maybe try listening to the people responding to you rather than being a whiny faggot about criticism.

tl; dr

Thank you for this treasured feedback! Lemme screenshot it real quick.

You are so very welcome. I do try to help.

Not terribly written and no SPAG errors large enough to pull me out of the story. The triple false start at the beginning was a little jarring, and the twist was pretty obvious. It is interesting to explore what the entertainment of a world with actual superheroes in it would be like. There are some obvious issues with the story. Neil is a generally unlikable protagonist. The motivations of the Mastermind feel half-baked at best. The story overall feels very cribbed from the plot of Megamind. There is a section right where Neil is getting fired that there are a couple of name mixups between Neil and Matt. When breaking up a monologue over multiple paragraphs, you should close the quotes around each paragraph.

Good first effort if a little long for a short story. With the cliffhanger ending, this feels like the start of a longer work. Are you planning on developing this out more?

There's some things I want to say.

Firstly, I wasn't trying to make a likable protagonist. He's supposed to be an arrogant jerk, so if you felt that he was unlikeable, that means I did something right.

Secondly, I see your point about fleshing out the Mastermind's motivations.

I do disagree that this is a Megamind rip-off. This is an original story looking at how a method actor experiences the depths of madness as he sinks into a role. Megamind was about a villain creating a hero to fight with. This story is a symbolic passing of the torch, and that's the ending only. The actual story focuses on the confusion/madness element as the protagonist is willing to do anything for his craft, even sacrifice his sanity. So I didn't agree with that critique. I'll fix the name mixups and quotes.

I'm not really planning on developing this. I always intentended for the story to end on a cliffhanger.

By saying it cribbed from Megamind, I was mainly meaning that as soon as I read the statement "Both the Mastermind and the Steward disappeared after a furious battle" I knew that one or both would be making a reappearance. It telegraphs the reveal similar to how Metroman's "death" was an obvious fakeout in Megamind. There is also the direct comparison of the real villain building up a replacement. The only difference is that the villian is kind of making his successor (although the ending kind of undoes that entire effort because Neil no longer has the suit and does not appear to be thinking that he is Mastermind), instead of becoming a hero.

If the true purpose of this story is looking at the impact of method acting then it totally fails in that. More than half of the story is burned on setup and fluff. The only actual method acting assholery Neil does is stealing groceries and slamming doors on old women. Everything else he does is under the influence of Mastermind's mental overridding. This story shows the impact of the madness an actor might sink into while under the influence of a mind warping helmet, not method acting. Given that Matt reveals that he hypnotized Neil even before he put on the suit, there is a question if anything that Neil did had anything to do with method acting.

With this additional review I agree with you that this is not a rip off of Megamind. Megamind was better written and maintained clear, logical motivations for all of it's characters. Why would someone choose to leave their readers on a cliffhanger knowing that it will never be resolved. That is not good writing, that is bad planning.

You think you're so much better than me, don't you? Let's meet back here on May 1st and see who does better in the Prompt Contest.

Lol

I don't know you to know if I am better than you in any regard. I'm simply giving my opinion on your work that you chose to put out publically. But I am happy to compare what I have for the Prompt contest with what you come up with.

Judging from the way you're defending the story, it's clear you were passionate about writing it. And that's always very good. Your passion does show in the story. I liked that fight scene at the end. That was fun. I also thought the premise was interesting.

But there are many issues with the story. Like Anthraxus said, I don't really see myself rooting for any specific character. The hero, Neil, isn't very likable. And your counterargument isn't valid in this case since it's possible to write an evil character that's still likable and interesting; Neil is just dull. And Matt doesn't really have much nuance, he's more of a cartoonishly evil bad guy. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing on its own, but when you have a hero who's not very compelling, at least the villain should be fun.

The story is also a little bloated. At times, you use more sentences than you need to do to get the point across, and the pacing should be quicker for the thriller/superhero action story you're trying to tell. Even though you got mad at DBNB, he's right, it is boring as it stands. The long monologue at the end also slows the story down and makes it a chore to read—which is a real shame because I did think the concept was cool. There was a lot of redundancy in the story as a whole. But that's ok, since you can always improve if you have a growth mindset.

Not bad. Just don't get too hung up over the critiques people are offering or try to fight people in the comments simply because they didn't like your story. Listen to their advice. I would also recommend you proofread it since like Anthraxus said, there were a few mistakes that took me out of the story. It feels unpolished right now. I encourage you to keep writing and posting your stuff here.

Stopped reading after "maple molasses." KYS

@Clayfinger

Thanks for being one of the good ones.

Umm, you might want to save your praise till after the contest is done. I'm trying something I'm not really used to doing so the contest game that I publish might be a swing and a miss XD.

Still, thanks for the compliment. :]

When I was young and wretched, too jaded for my own good and spoiled by the rich tapestry of human error which surrounded me, I would have found this story infuriating in so many ways. This would have been a multipage review after a well-misspent afternoon of me mining each detail for insult and ridicule to vocalize my sophomoric teenage disgust at what I'd just read. Every obtuse and goblinous word choice that pissed me off aesthetically. Gods I was strong then. But I find that I can no longer muster the hatred of those ancient and benighted years. Don't get me wrong, I didn't particularly like reading this story, not in the traditional sense anyway. Happening across this thread was something analogous to stepping ankle-deep into a babel-like brickwork of wombat turds, browning my socks beneath the pantleg. But in the age of carefully manicured slop and widespread AI authorship, I find it miraculous enough to be in the presence of a wombat at all, and one this prolific as well. No machine could be this exquisitely lame, it is delightfully real in a way that shuns apathy.

The downright stuffy description and mechanical flow fascinated me, for a time. This prose reminded me of simpler days, like seeing an old friend... Or an old enemy, but still up to his old tricks in such an endearing way. It brought me back to days of crusty dialogue and downright unclear scenes, the psuedo-self-aware "bad writing" lampshaded by the "real" writing that's barely noticably different, segments where the author's passionate brain was clearly going faster than his fingers at the keyboard-- And all that passion became this. Beautiful. They don't make this shit anymore. This story's unelaborated sci fi buzzwords from 2016 and atrocious analogies have undone years of damage to my cynical heart. The chuckles that were had in my time spent with this wretched tale restored a kind of life to my cold and calcified husk.

"It was like Lady Luck and Gentleman Opportunity both met and showed him the path, illustrated by a glowing line leading straight to success, wealth, and power." is a fucking treasure of a sentence. It brought a tear to my eye and its profound corniness will stay with me for the rest of my week. Truth be told, that's when I stopped reading, because I knew there was no way the rest of this got better because you were actually trying and I didn't think you would make such a risk again. But Lady Luck and Gentleman Opportunity, charitable as they were, led me to what I think is truly the peak of teenager prose syndrome, and I have ingested it and found my woes cured.

Finally, a good one! You know what Mr.Penguin, you might be the first person in this thread who's done something useful. I mean this is a really good comment. I'm going to take a screenshot of it so I can look back on it.

Don't get me wrong, not all of your points were right. For instance, you're wrong about my word choice being "golbineaous" and "obtuse". But hey, everyone's got to start from somewhere. I'm sure you have a promising career as a writer ahead of you. That's why I'm going easy on you in my comment compared to the others because your comment shows a great deal of reflection and thoughtfulness that is almost like you drink from a veritable fountain of knowledge when you write comments. Even if everyone else gets mad at you for sticking up for the new kid because they only want to point and laugh, you sir are a Maverick in my book! A real trendsetter and stand-up-guy!

I'm really glad my story reminded me of you meeting an old friend. If you'd like, I'd be happy to give you a sneak peak of my writing for the contest as I continue to work on it, sort of like an exclusive, behind-the-scenes footage only shown to the most dedicated of fans. Or friends.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret: us writers really enjoy and appreciate this sort of feedback. Readers may not know this, but it's true! It's not good to say the writing was horrible or bad without giving a reason why, or to say that we stole from a movie made 10 years ago when we were kids. That's stupid pointless feedback that's just hurtful.

But the fact that my story managed to give you a sense of nostalgia made me so happy. I can't believe I did it, this is incredible. You know, I really put a lot of passion in my writing so hearing you say this rocks my world man. When everyone in the world calls your writing horrible and boring, it's good to know that there's at least one person here who isn't mean.

Humor is tricky so it sounds like I really nailed it in this story since I made you laugh a ton. Why couldn't the other reviewers pick up on that? It's so messed up man.

You're not like the rest of them. You're alright man. You know, if we met in real life, I bet we'd be best friends. We have a similar taste in sense of humor and writing. Both! I have a feeling you and I would write in a similar style. Once again, I thank you and Lady Luck and Gentleman Opportunity for the chance to meet such an insightful person and see such a perceptive and discerning comment. Truly, you are a boon sent from high above and a credit to chooseyourstory.com

The rest of you, look to this guy as an inspiration for how to conduct yourself. Don't scare him off, without him new people won't feel welcomed and then they'll leave. Whatever you do, keep this guy around. he's the only person in this thread I'm not mad at. As for the rest of you, try to emulate Penguin although you'll sadly fail in that attempt.

Christ you are dense.

Sent truly is an icon and we should all try to emulate him when responding to people such as yourself.

This response bewilders me because you seem to have missed the content for the tone, but this does seem relatively par for the course given the amount of cope I can see in the rest of this thread. You've gone from fighting the more succinct reviewers over what even counts as criticism, to, when I guess jabs in the guise of criticism were offered, attempting to correct subjective statements which is just inherently funny. Let the record show that, save for the repeated criticism of not being grabbed by the opening lines, (which I was, though some might argue it was for the wrong reasons) I agree with most of the criticism leveled at this story thus far, most of which was far less insulting than I think even my own post was. But the primary difference between them and I seems to be that I enjoyed what I was reading, for reasons that don't seem intentional. But I am happy that you found this encouraging nonetheless, even if it may have been the spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine be ignored.

Damn Sent, you've done it now, he's going to stop going easy on you.

I lost interest somewhere in the middle of the second sentence.

This comment isn't really necessary. It has no functional value and does nothing. It's like a Sotol. It doesn't contribute anything and is a waste of the bytes of memory your computer used to store it.

I'm glad you appreciated it.

You're welcome.

I did not appreciate it, but I'm also not mad since I know you're just copying DBNB. He's the real perpatrator of malice, the one I actually have beef with. You're just joshing around with me.

Welcome to the Internet.

Also, DB's comment is completely legitimate. On some writing sites, they often share story starters: the first few sentences or paragraph of a potential story. It is usually paired with, "Would you keep reading?" The idea is that if you don't grab the reader's attention in the first few sentences, you've done something wrong. Whether that's valuable or not, is up to you.

In other words, "The opening did not catch my interest" is valid feedback.

I'm going to warn you now, this attitude is going to get you banned if you don't stop sharpish. You've already received several decent reviews which you've reacted aggressively to for no apparent reason. Don't take any and all criticism as a personal attack! Don't post stuff online that you don't want people online to respond to.

Just accept the feedback and move on. People have been banned for less than this. You've already caught the attention of several high-rank members on the site. If you keep poking the bear eventually an admin will take enough notice to end your time here, or worse...

Please. Stop. Responding. To everything. This is for your own good. Read back through the forums if you don't believe me.

Oh, he's fine. After all of this, we've got to see this upcoming storygame.

It's an epic cyberpunk gangster tale called "Bastard" that will beat the entry of everyone who insulted me in this thread. Happy? You poked the bear, and now I'm not just going to try and beat Antrhaxus and Dbnb in this contest. I wil try to write better than every singel person who posted in this thread(except the penguin of course, he's good in my book).

It's like I said to DBNB and anthrax guy. Don't talk shit unless you can put your writing fists where your mouth is(obviously no actual violence, i am a gentleman after all.) So far I haven't actually seen any evidence you guys can write, so let's let this contest be the judge of that. If I beat all of you(AND I WILL), you don't have a write to critique the writings of your betters. I know I'm going 1v6 so you guys have the advantage but I'm that confident. If even one of you places higher than me, then your team wins. but if I place higher than all 6 or 7 of you then I win. Kapeesh?

Here and now, I am throwing my gauntlet down and issuing a challenge. Every single other person in the contest who replied to this thread, I will beat all of your entries. I am dead serious, I can write better than all the people who shit-talked me here. I will place higher than all of you, since luckily for me Endmaster's judging and he's a fair and impartial person since he didn't post here. When that happens you guys will eat your words(not literally since they're on a computer).

I know I can write better than all the people who insulted me and I know I will place higher than them. My story was wicked cool and you guys heartlessly dunked on me for daring to dream. I get it, you have to put me in my place since you don't like me. But I'll show you, I'll show everybody in the contest. I may not win but I will place higher than Ogre, Mizal, Petros, DBNB, RKrallonor, fresh_out_the_oven, anthraxus, and goodnight_a. Obviously, I'll spare the penguin in my wrath since he was nice to me and it looks like he's not even in the contest. I finished my message and I will write a really wicked cool story that Endmaster will love.

Fuck you. Actually.

Save it for the contest. I'm done talking, i'll write a really good story and go for the gold. I don't want to exchange inselts like this. It's sophomoric and childish. it's just annoying to be dogpiled on, especially since pengujin is the only one who took my side. But I'll let "Bastard", my cyberpunk gangster CYOA that I'm in the process of coming up with the lore for, do the talking. Not. Me.

Whatever floats your boat, hon. I wish you the best of luck :P

I dont accept since i dont need luck. Also you're not giving the good luck in a good way, you're saying it in a patronizing way so I reject the thinly velied insult. i head back to finish my story so i can put my money where my mouth is. I never write checks my writing proficiency and aptitidue can't cash.

Singing off,
the guy who will write a better story than all the people who shit talked him here.

"I'm leaving! I'm done talking! Ok... well this time I'm done talking! Really!"

And you didn't even acknowledge my actual feedback. You earned every ounce of shade I threw at you with your pathetic attempts to demean everyone who "shit talked" you (aka, didn't like your story) and when you flippantly refused to acknowledge that you're not a fucking god. You're not even good.

Singing off that aptitidue all the way to the bank he is.

I came back from hell to say this, kys faggot, your writing makes me want to commit harakiri because the second hand shame of writing something so horrible and defending it so vehemently makes me feel like the only way to protect my bloodline’s honor from writing like yours is disemboweling myself. Also, don’t ever disrespect fresh like that again, she probably has bigger balls than you and she’s a girl you virgin cuck fag loser.

This should be fun

Bro literally everyone you're beefing with has writing better than yours all over the site.

Ever since your first post you've been very defensive. I'd honestly recommend you do a bit of reflection on why you might be coming across as tense and reactive and try and let it go. Your tone in your bio also isnt giving the best impression. I get why it upsets you, you clearly put a lot of time into that writing but again just try and have a bit more awareness on how the way you're acting must make others feel. Try not to be so impulsive. When you're that tense about critique, it can actually turn people off engaging with your work, even if it's good. Just a bit of perspective, not an attack. Everyone has done it. 

I hadn't really paid much attention to this thread until you started flooding your diapers, but come on man. This is a passable exercise in proving you understand grammar, but word choice and tone are still something you need a lot of work to nail down. It really is a struggle not to have the eyes glaze over very early on, there's a lot of words here and they don't evoke any particular emotion aside from the occasional eyebrow quirk at the phrasing choices.

Let's take, "maple molasses", Petros pointed that one out. What does that even mean? I don't know if you started with maple syrup, partially deleted and then added molasses, or if you thought mashing two unrelated kinds of syrup together next to each other in a sentence would make it make double sense, or of you think molasses is synonymous with syrup instead of its own specific thing or what. Normally I would assume this is an issue of English not being a first language, but you've ruled out that perfectly good excuse by insisting that it's everyone else who is wrong, and that not recognizing you as an infallible god of writing can only be the product of stupidity or malice.

Sometimes people just don't like a story, get over it. You've had people go the extra mile to explain why, and the lesson learned here is to just not bother because you're not listening and will never improve. Which does kind of beg the question of why you're making this stuff public on a writing site at all.

The most evocative writing you've done so far is in your increasingly defensive outbursts, that's a way more fascinating glimpse into "confusion/madness" than anything going on in this story.

I'm genuinely looking forward to your contest entry though, we haven't had anyone this thin skinned around in a long time, and I'm wondering what it's going to do to you that there's no easy way to respond to the criticism that every writer receives. Are you going to start blowing up people's inboxes to tell them they're wrong? Beg the mods to remove comments you disagree with them? Should be interesting.

Dw i added you to the list of people that I am looking to defeat in the endmaster contest. I will write a way cooler story than all the people who were rude to me, so then they'll see that i am not a man to be trifled with.

Don't really know what else to say, except make sure to leave only nice and constructive comments on all my stories. If I see any rude or racist comments I will contact the admins and escalate the issue appropriately. You have been warned.

dw man, your profile already makes it loud and clear you're a real tough guy.

Serious question though: How old are you?

not important

Sure.

thanks. I'm glad you didn't push me on this at least

Maple molasses, strawberry pudding, Cystia is up in arms against suspiciously fake desserts all over again.

Unfortunately, strawberry pudding sounds fairly delicious. Might not be fake for too long.

Hm, I suppose spite might get more folks to submit something. We might just have more than a single digit number of entries after all.

I think you overestimate the power of spite and CYStians

I guess we'll see if spite and hatred win out over laziness and sloth this time around.

lol, he was so annoying that you upgraded from drawings to video just to roast him. Nicely done, this was really good!

It's beautiful. I love the voice you used for him

Well now this thread really has gone down in history regar dless of what happens to the noob.

this thread did suck the old right out of my bones, it's true

but why is AI Mizal BLACK!?

"Thatin Dianguy" would be a good name for a fantasy character.

Peak cinema

Wow, that's amazing. The low quality of everything seems to make it just that much better, and I didn't think that was possible. I can even see this being what really happened, if the god did exist.

Is this what happens to people who make this site angry enough?

Well, I, for one, believe that you have what it takes to win the bet. I have full confidence that your contest story will show all of these drooling morons just who the obviously infallible and intellectually superior writer is. They're all just big meanies who are jealous of your flawless punctuation and exposition choices, that's all. How dare they project their insecurities on other people and delude themselves into thinking that they are great writers despite a lack of any evidence to warrant such a conclusion to make up for any feelings of inadequacy that they may be feeling as a result of their real-life interactions! They just wished that they had as much writing talent in their whole body as you do in your little finger, I bet. None of their stories will stand a chance against the work of genius with which you are surely about to grace us.

There are some consistency errors that I noticed.

1) When Neil gets replaced by the director, it says Matt is the one who is walking away dejected. I'm guessing this was supposed to be Neil. Matt also apparently shouts "Thank god that they didn't confiscate the suit." I have no idea if this dialogue is supposed to be said by Neil or Matt.

2) When introducing the league of heroes, you mention the characters Megaman and Super Knight. However, later you also use the name Mega Knight which is used to refer to both Megaman and Super Knight in separate instances.

3) "The Sidestepper came out and grabbed the mayor..." implies that the mayor was being held captive by Neil, but Neil was at the police station attempting to free the prisoners. It's not really mentioned anywhere that the mayor was present there before that point.

4) This is less of a consistency error but there is a lack of an adequate explanation as to why the original mastermind started acting in the first place. If he was technologically proficient, it would make more sense to try and become a researcher or something I suppose.

Other than the above, if I had to give you advice, it would be to work on building relationships between your characters. It is the best way to make characters feel grounded. Neil and most of the characters in this story seem to stand on their own and not properly interact with anyone else in any realistic manner. As a result, I found myself simply reading the story rather than trying to relate to Neil.

For example, imagine Neil had a lover who really wanted to support him but as the story progresses, she makes the tragic realization that Neil isn't Neil anymore. That could be quite an emotional scene. You could also use the lover's memories of Neil to flesh out Neil's character more. It doesn't even have to be a lover. It could be a brother or just a really devoted friend. Regardless, such connections can help with characterization.

I hope you keep at it. Your SPAG is pretty good. I didn't find any noticeable errors. As for feedback, not all of it may be easily digestible but you can learn from each and every one. It's usually good to keep the emotions away and take just the valuable parts of the feedback you receive. I promise, you will become a better writer if you keep posting your work and keep taking the feedback earnestly.

P.S. Oh and also once you are done with the story. Read it aloud to yourself. It really helps with consistency errors like the ones mentioned above.

Insulting his honor this way? You sir are getting added to the List.

lol

The betting pool will soon be opened. This will be on the new alt that shows up when (if?) this account is banned for not winning the contest. Opening odds:

ThatIndianGuy2 10:1
SomeBananaMan 25:1
BumbayGuy 25:1
MadIndianWinner 35:1
SuperPajeetGuy 50:1
CurryMama 100:1

My money's on MadIndianWinner.

You forgot DramaQu33n 200:1 because of his pride.

Few questions:

1. How does betting work?

2. When does this open?

3. What happens if you loose the bet and don't have the points for it?

4. Can you add "ThisIndianGuy" to the list?

Proverbs 12:1

Anyone who loves correction loves knowledge.

Anyone who hates to be corrected is stupid.

So the first half of this story was honestly not that terrible. The main issues that I had with it were the strange analogies (comparing a rock to a pecan in a pie, Lady Luck and Gentleman Opportunity, etc.) and the fact that when there's a time jump, "five months later" should be written as

Five months later 

Halfway through the story is when it goes off the rails.Turning into an evil psychopath cause he got fired from his acting job is.. truth be told, unbelievable. If that's all it took for him to have a mental crisis along with watching television, then the conduct of the author towards people who are attempting to give him genuine advice is making sense.

 

Now onto the review of our newest street shitter, ThatIndianGuy.

So many of the reviews that you have gotten have actually been kind. Anthraxus, RK, and Fresh all made good reviews that you could actually learn from. And DBNB was honest about not being interested in the story (which is understandable, you entitled fuck) and still gave you a compliment on SPAG and effort, and you insulted him.

Look, truth be told... the fact that you're whining about how anyone who remotely criticizes your 3/8 story (and I'm being generous with that categorization due to word count. 
 

I am forced to conclude that your mother was likely gangbanged in an alleyway by three store clerks with a video camera, attempted to get an abortion only for the operation to be botched when the doctor got drunk and stuck the vacuum in the wrong hole, and then she ultimately attempted to drown you in that sewer bilge your people all shit, bathe, and swim in (yes, I'm talking about the River Gagnes). 

Now, so desperate for positive approval, you published what you convinced yourself in your head was a masterpiece, and are now demanding that everyone who doesn't conform to that mindset must be PURGED from the site. 

Can't wait to see you get banned. 

And when the people on your list beat you without even trying, allow me to say in advance: Lol, fag.

Rare sighting of Ben speaking only facts.

Although I did make a SPAG error smh

How COULD you Ben!!! YOU'VE INSULTED TIG'S HONOR! YOU HAVE TO SPAG DUEL HIM TO THE DEATH!!!