Hellbent
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edit: /me makes note to self. Tthe preview button is there for a reason.
/me slinks away into a cave in shame. Retard cannot be concealed. :( -
Here we shall discuss what good writing is, and what not to do when writing with an audience in mind.
I've never read Stephen King, but I recently read an article he wrote on The Passion of the Christ film in Entertainment Weekly. And something about his style or the thread of his thought kept me interested the whole time. He wasn't even saying anything that profound or insightful, but every phrase seemed to have a purpose and lead into his next thought.
So it occurred to me, in writing, every bit of it should say something new, should have a point or be building up to something and be entertaining and interesting along the way. It should never say something we've already read a thousand times, or be phrased in ways we are familiar. And each phrase or sentence should setup for the next one so that you are eager to keep reading.
What are your writing tips? What are some dos and don'ts of writing that you have discovered in your readings and writings?- Show previous comments 9 more
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They called him the Lord of the Sack.
56, pale and wiry but with deceptive strength of cock, Lord was the master of all things in the sack. He was the 1956 Youth Sport Sex God of the Year. He was the 1970 Scottish Sack Champion. In 1989 they crowned him the Lord of the Sack and Prince Charles himself granted him his own 400ft long stretch of Beach in the 'meat market' section of the Scottish Isles.
To the guys he was a God, to the ladies he was the Dream Reamer. His reel was golden and his rod was both long and stiff.
Lord he was, sat upon his throne and eating chocolate biscuits. The room was dark, for Lord was cheap and did not like expending money on electricity. The TV remained silent. Grey light filtered through the dingy Cheesecloth blinds of the Lord residence.
He chewed and glared balefully at the Cheesecloth. It was raining again, and Lord was no fan of water not in hot tubs and beaches. The EU had issued a summons on Lord, forbidding him to fuck. He had single-handedly fornicated the flocks of women, and the children population had reached crisis levels.
Bite and Crunch.
The biscuit vanished and crumbs fell on his tweedy breeks.
Reach and crunch.
Those German assgoblins had stolen his pastime and his livelihood. No more fucking for 5 years.
Crunch.
No more fucking… ever.
Crunch.
No biscuits were left in the tub.
Balls.
Lord took to grinding his grundle instead and reached for the remote control. The TV flickered on standby before Lord began to trawl through the channels in search of breast.
8.35pm. No breasts for a good 25 minutes yet.
Balls balls balls balls balls.
The fornicating shows just annoyed Lord. Once he had been offered a contract from Lifestyle TV for a 12-show season, titled “Sack Master”. It had been canceled after one show when Lord punched a cameraman in the face and shoved $17,360 worth of sound equipment into the ocean, complete with Melinda McGraw, Lifestyle’s primadonna face and briefly co-star on Lord TV.
Hmmm… car shows… cartoons… national geographic special on sex… news.
News it was.
Some black git with a pair of goggles and a pinstripe tie waffled on about three kids trampled to death in some shithole down in England due to a certain overpopulation problem and preaching on about celibacy. Blah blah blah. Boring, pointless monogomy.
Lord decided he needed a shit.
To move or not to move? Going to the toilet now would mean half an hour of straining and those little painful acid farts. On the other hand, he could just sit and quietly strain in front of the TV, rushing of to the toilet when the Terminal Push was imminent.
Tough one. The wife would complain if the living room was stinking of Lord-gas when she got back… but on the other hand, moving right now was really too much effort.
Fuck it. Sit and stew. Watch the telly.
Train derailed outside Kensington. 57 injured, one fatality.
Geranimo the Panda dies of heart attack during forced artificial insemination.
Gay ass banger terrorizes costal town.
Lord shits pants.
“FUCKING BASTARD SHITS!” he screamed, lifting his buttocks away from his sodden pants and crushing the armrests in anger. Quickly, Lord rushes to the toilet, taking care not to stretch the seat of his trousers and spread the unexpected turd any further across his yellowed ass.
Time passes. There is much cursing from behind the closed door of the crapper. Eventually the toilet roll rolls, there is much scraping and Lord reappears, naked from the waist down and trousers screwed up under one arm. The offending trousers are bundled into the washing machine, along with a load of his wife’s smalls. Tuesday’s Pair of Pants go into the bin, hidden in a tin of dog food. Lord exits kitchen and retreats to his single bedroom to salvage some new breeks.
He is sitting on his bed, trousers halfway on and halfway off, when Lord decides he needs a holiday. Away from his wife, away form the fucking dog and away from Scotland in general. Away from that bastard stepson Niles and all his wanker friends.
Away from the EU edicts prohibiting him from fucking.
Yes.
Lord needs a holiday. And he knows exactly where.
Chapter 2
“Ass fucking?”
“Aye, fuckin’ Ass. No more pussy sex for the Lord, I’m going out after the real thing now!”
“But fucking ass fucking,” Niles paused, circling his arms and searching for reason. “Have you not seen Jaws: Cum Catcher?
“Fuck Jaws, this is the real thing! Man versus beast in the ultimate battle of cocks and cumming!”
“It’s a fucking faggot, they’re not exactly noted for wit. They’re noted for biting daft cunts like you in half below the waist and sooking out your entrails.”
“Shut up or you’ll get the back of my cock over your face, cheeky shit. I’m going ass fucking and that’s all there is to it.”
(unfinished) -
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- Show next comments 21 more
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You used to be happy. You don't remember when... some time long ago perhaps... perhaps you have no recollection of such a time and know you never will.
You used to laugh. You don't remember when... some time long ago perhaps... perhaps you don't recall at all such a time and know you never will.
You used to have real friends. You've since forgotten what that means. Or perhaps you never did have any real friends... and know you never will.
Life used to make sense. Meaning and purpose weren't something you had to search for. Laughter and good times weren't an obscure treatment for social interactions. Formal was a foreign word.
Life used to be worth waking up for. Now it is a fog of war to get through the void filled existence. Guns are our salvation, blood our thirst healer. Monsters fill the empty longing that quenches our apathy. -
So in the spirit of Numbermind's "new new game", this is the same thing but instead of being restricted to game names, you are restricted to anything doom related. After we get bored with just doom names... we will expand it to anything idsoftware related.
It does not have to be one word, but it cannot be longer than a short sentence.
Have fun!
Archvile -
Ahhh.... life is good. Even though I got 4 hours of sleep last night, woke up at 5am to drive my roommate to the airport an hour each way... life is good. Why am I still grinning ear to ear though it be 7am and I should be sleeping? One, because my roommate's car is one helluva fun ride. But the real reason is because my roommate is gone for a whopping ten days! Ten days of freedom! FREEEEEDOOM!!
Man, the smile on my face is just never ending. I'm gonna go to work this morning beaming and everyone is gonna be like "what you so happy about?"
/me purrrs. -
I'm losing my mind and am happy. I feel lost and fluffy... airy... light.. empty... void of depth or substance... I think I'm turning into an air head.
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New game... Someone starts by saying a phrase... and then people reply with what they think the phrase is in reference to... (yes, it's obvious where this game will end up... but it still might be fun)
I'll start:
If I eat a lot of fiber... they'll sink. -
I made a funney but no one laughed... :(
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hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha There, that should be enough laughing for you :)
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Bob, Don, Fred, Sarah, Dan Lana and Grotug are all chilling at Grotug's pad, drinking a couple of beers.
Grotug, being the lover of linguistics that he is, suggests they play a simple little game.
"Let's all spell our name's backwards to see what they are backwards! I'll go first. Gutorg. Hehe, kinda cool I guess."
Don volunteers his name: "Nod. heh."
Bob shouts out excitedly: "Bob! Haha, my name doesn't change!"
"No shit, moron." Dan said.
"Hey dipshit, your name is Nad! Hahahahahhah!" Bob retorts.
"Hahaha! You're a smelly nad, you dildo knock!" Poked Fred.
"Hey, stop harrassing him you guys!" To Fred: "Like your name is really cool, you Derf."
"Heh, your name backwards is haras! Hahahah.. get it? Harrass?" Put in Don.
"Real clever, Don..." said Fred.
The only person who hadn't said anything was Lana. Why had she been so shy the whole time?
"Hey guys, what's Lana's name backwards?" Bob shouted out. And the whole room suddenly went dead silent. -
Ok, since the mods are so anal and won't let the game be discovered over a course of time, I'll just explain it.
The person starting (in this case me) picks a letter. N.
The next person then puts a letter, but has to have a word in mind. So if he picks O he might have the word "North" in mind. If he picks A, he might have "Navy" in mind. If he picks E he might have "Netherlands" in mind. The word he has in mind has to be at least 4 letters in length. Each person putting a letter next, has to have a word in mind. If at some point it comes to your turn and you can't think of a word that the current letters could spell, then you can challenge the last poster to find out if he had a word in mind. If he didn't or can't come up with one, he gets a letter "G" - he who spells GHOST first, loses.... Each time you post, you have to write out all the letters up to that point.
N -
What happened to the derail thread? Was it not in Blogs? What are blogs?
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argh, I'm so confused. I posted a post on general forum that was clearly a BS post meant to go to hell, and for the very reason that I wanted it to go to hell they sent it to blogs instead. Then I keep asking what blogs is and I've gotten now two repsonses: first was that it was an alternate hell and now I'm getting that it's a place to post personal going ons - my post designed to be sent to hell was clearly not a "personal going ons" type post.
Meh.
Where's the meh thread? There's a thriving heh thread... this blogs nonsense makes me want to start the meh thread. -
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Espi said:
I'm referring to my uselessness in real life. I feel really awkward getting compliments anyway. I was going to make this a locked thread, but couldn't figure out how, if it's even possible.
First, I'd just like to appologize for my litte quip about you posting feeling useless... I can understand how you felt when posting that.
I'm actually in a similar boat. I get compliments on some of my doom creations, but in real life, I am pretty useless. I've always had a low self image of myself and can relate to feeling awkward to getting compliments. I just picked up a book titled: "What Color is my Parachute?" because I am getting pretty desperate in terms of ending my uselessness which has been going on for far too long now.
So how do you feel useless in real life? How old are you if you don't mind my asking.-
It's okay. Admittedly posting that blog wasn't such a good idea either, especially looking at some of the shit it seems to have inspired.
I rather wouldn't talk about it, so I'll just say it's many things combined that have had me feel more or less shitty since december. And I'm 22 if you must know. -
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That's for you to decide.
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DooMBoy said:
Füch = sounds like fuck
Therefore, füchstar = porno star!!!!!!!!!11111LOL! Hey Doomboy, when are the mods gonna change your title? I think you've earned some sort of graduation from "Stupidity cannot be concealed." At the least you should be graduated to "Stupidity partially concealed" :P
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Hellbent said:
LOL! Hey Doomboy, when are the mods gonna change your title? I think you've earned some sort of graduation from "Stupidity cannot be concealed." At the least you should be graduated to "Stupidity partially concealed" :P
I wish it was just plain old Heh, I'd really like it like that. Oh, and what do you mean PARTIALLY?! :D IMO, there is than one person on these forums that is more than deserving of my title.
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DooMBoy said:
I wish it was just plain old Heh, I'd really like it like that. Oh, and what do you mean PARTIALLY?! :D IMO, there is than one person on these forums that is more than deserving of my title.
I was half kidding :P ...although you may wanna double check your posts before posting them with the "Preview Reply" button... just a thought.
:D - Show next comments 21 more
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Man, Post Hell is the entertainingest shit ever. I was reading through some of those hellified posts and the one about the "advanced" map02 "tribute" was hilarious.
"I made tribute map to underhalls! It's different. I dind't make any changes"
Back in the day - when post hell just opened, there was real shame in having a post sent there. Now I would consider it a priveledge for my posts to wind up there. Post Hell is still for morons, yes, but really funny morons.
So here's hoping this post will go to Post Hell.
Oh, and the Post Hell music kicks ass. All the forum needs now is some good, tasteful, clever and witty Flash.
