I read two chapters, and I have to ask: did you actually intend to write a compelling story, or did you aim to create the literary equivalent of a trash JP webnovel? Because let me tell you, this story is profoundly meh—not disastrously bad, mind you, but so middling and uninspired that it fails at something far worse than being terrible. It fails to matter. You’ve managed to create a world that lacks logic, a protagonist who lacks credibility, and an emotional core that just barely limps across the finish line, all while hanging onto the crutch of gratuitous gore and tired tropes.
Let’s start with the most fundamental failure: the basic lack of logos. A story should have an internal logic, a structure that makes its world and characters feel real, even when the setting itself is fantastical. But your world collapses under even the mildest scrutiny. It’s been 300 years since the players disappeared, and you want me to believe that humanity—or whatever passes for it in your setting—just sat around, helpless, for three centuries while Deathwings and other late-game monstrosities roamed freely? Are we supposed to believe there are no remnants of the players’ influence, no institutions, no guilds, no mage academies, no militarized factions? People don’t just roll over and die. They innovate, they adapt, they create systems to protect themselves. Yet here we are, with your burning village conveniently undefended, your priest screaming about gods in impotent futility, and your guards being torn apart like wet tissue paper. Where’s the logic? Where’s the believability?
And what about Damian? Your protagonist fails at basic ethos because he’s not a character anyone can respect, follow, or even tolerate for long. He’s either a transparent authorial self-insert or a blank slate reader insert, but in either case, he’s hollow. What’s his defining trait? Crying? Curling up into a ball? Muttering “this isn’t real” every five minutes? You set him up as a gamer, someone who supposedly beat the most difficult RPG ever, yet he doesn’t show a shred of resourcefulness, strategy, or even basic competence. Instead, he wanders around aimlessly, whines about his situation, and passively reacts to everything around him. He’s not a protagonist—he’s a placeholder. And when you try to give him depth, like with the whole “moral dilemma” about stabbing the dying man, it falls flat because it’s rushed, shallow, and poorly executed. He doesn’t struggle with the decision—he just flails around, lets Diablo bully him into it, and then spends the next five minutes crying. That’s not pathos; that’s emotional filler.
Speaking of Diablo, I’m not sure what you were going for with him. Is he supposed to be charming? Menacing? Both? Because right now, he’s neither. He’s just an authorial guide, existing solely to spoon-feed Damian (and by extension, the reader) exposition while cracking snarky jokes that undercut any tension or stakes you’re trying to build. He’s smug without being clever, omnipotent without being threatening, and his role in the story is so painfully transparent that it robs him of any intrigue. He could have been fascinating—a manipulative puppet master, nudging Damian toward growth or ruin for reasons that remain unclear. But instead, he’s just a tutorial NPC with a better vocabulary, and every time he shows up, the story grinds to a halt so he can dump lore and mechanics into our laps.
Now, let’s address the one thing you almost got right: the pathos. I’ll admit, the imagery of the Deathwings is solid. Their acidic saliva, their glowing scales, the sheer carnage they cause—it’s all suitably grotesque. The idea of Damian being forced into a horrific kill has the potential for real emotional weight. But here’s the problem: potential is all it is. You don’t earn your pathos because you never put in the work to make the world, the characters, or the stakes feel real. The gore doesn’t shock me because it’s everywhere, all the time, and completely meaningless. Blood and guts fly left and right, but I don’t care because I’m not invested in the people dying. Damian’s breakdown doesn’t move me because he’s too shallow for me to empathize with. It’s like watching a badly programmed NPC weep over the death of another NPC I’ve never met.
And then there’s the pacing. Oh, the pacing. Two chapters in, and I feel like I’ve spent hours watching Damian do nothing of significance. He crawls out of closets, stares out of windows, curls up into balls, and mutters the same lines over and over again. When something finally happens, it’s either an endless exposition dump from Diablo or another generic “oh no, the village is burning” scene that could have been lifted from any other dark fantasy. You’ve got a story that desperately wants to be fast-paced and tense, but instead, it’s disjointed and repetitive, lurching forward like a broken cart.
So here’s the real question: what exactly were you trying to achieve? Did you think gore and despair would carry your story, even when it’s built on a foundation of nonsensical worldbuilding and forgettable characters? Did you think a snarky, fourth-wall-breaking antagonist would distract us from the fact that your protagonist has no agency and your plot has no momentum? Did you think pathos could work without logos or ethos to support it? Because it doesn’t. A story without logic and credibility is like a house without a foundation—it collapses the moment someone leans on it.
I’ll give you this: the premise has potential. A post-player world 300 years after the game ended could be fascinating, if you actually thought through the consequences of that premise. Diablo could be a brilliant antagonist, if he weren’t just a quippy exposition machine. Damian could be a compelling protagonist, if he had even an ounce of personality or agency. But right now, your story is the definition of wasted potential. If it's your first draft, there's still a lot to rethink. It’s terrible enough to be not memorable, and it’s certainly not close to being good enough to stand out. It’s just... there, crawled into a ball in a ditch. And in a scene as crowded as webnovel writing, “just there” is a death sentence.
P.S. Don't rely on dialogue tags. They suck.
P.S.S. Maybe read my guide "Dao of Worldmaking" to understand on how to make cliché not cliché. Or don't. Whatever.
