I read three parts of the prologue (really, why?), and Chapter 1, and I have to ask:
what did I do to deserve this punishment? I’m beginning to think this isn’t a story but a clever experiment in human endurance. Having endured your literary purgatory of filler masquerading as "side story," bland characters, and pacing slower than a buffering YouTube upload, I can confirm: this isn’t a novel—it’s procrastination in drag.
Let’s start with the
prologue trilogy. Three parts. THREE. For what? To establish that the protagonist is grateful for their family (who won’t matter), that the summoner is useless but sparkly, and that sliders exist. That’s it. That’s what you spent thousands of words on. You took a concept that could’ve been condensed into one tight, impactful chapter and stretched it into a bloated monstrosity that could choke a whale. And don’t even try to weasel out with “it’s supposed to be slow” or “it’s a side story.” Side stories still need to hook readers, still need to have pacing, still need to respect the audience’s time.
You served up an all-you-can-eat buffet of fluff, expecting us to gorge on air. Spoiler: we're still hungry.
As for your synopsis? A war crime against coherence. Four chapters in, and I still don’t know if this is about world-hopping, trauma-healing, hero-making, or just a poorly disguised dating sim. Sliders, cringy bedroom mishaps, and cardboard waifus aren’t a plot—they’re a cry for help. Your one job was to make us care, to hint at the story’s soul, but instead, you handed us an existential shrug.
Instead, you delivered a word salad of ambiguity and called it a day. It’s the literary equivalent of putting “TBD” on a movie poster.
The prologue itself is filler incarnate. Let’s be real: all the family sob stories in Prologue I could’ve been replaced with a single sentence: “I was loved deeply by my family, but death came too soon.” Done. You don’t need to spend paragraphs gushing over how your mom is strong yet fragile, or how your sister-in-law is a gamer goddess who definitely isn’t a thinly veiled self-insert fantasy. And then there’s the pink bedroom scene in Prologue II. Why? Who asked for that? Did we need to know about the plushies, the sailor uniform, the frilly pillows? NO. It’s pointless fluff designed to pad out your word count, and your readers can see right through it.
Oh, and the character customization bit? That’s where I truly questioned my life choices. Not only does it go on forever, but it’s a tonal disaster. You turned what could’ve been a moment of existential dread—reshaping your own body—into a lame gag about bald heads and slider jokes. This wasn’t “lighthearted fun.” It was
a complete waste of narrative space. And don’t try to argue that it’s “setting up the world” or “meant for comedy.” You had a golden opportunity for body horror, for existential reflection, for anything remotely interesting, and you squandered it on
LOL, sliders are weird.
And then we get to
Chapter 1. Oh, sweet mercy. You finally escape the endless prologue, only to launch into more filler and more clichés. The protagonist wakes up in a
fantasy city with no one in it. Spooky, right? Wrong. There’s no tension, no stakes—just a lifeless description of whatever the GENERIC medieval city has. When you finally introduce characters, they’re so one-dimensional as if you went to a game asset store and bought those anime characters Yanderedev had bought without giving them ORIGINALITY.
First, a
florist girl: a trope in floral print who tumbled out of a dusty shoujo manga and face-planted into the plot. She’s about as realistic as a rom-com meet-cute in a rainstorm. Her dialogue? A tornado of nonsensical chaos, capped off with a marriage proposal so cringe-inducing it might as well come with a restraining order. Let’s not kid ourselves by calling this “quirky” or “lighthearted.” This isn’t a nostalgic dive into early 2000s manga—it’s just lazy writing. A character defined solely by “cheerful” and “marriage-obsessed” isn’t a person; she’s a walking cliché in search of a better script.
Then there’s
Kikuri, the edgelord with a superiority complex. Her entire existence seems designed to contrast the florist girl’s chaotic energy, but instead of adding depth, it just doubles down on the shallow characterization. She’s cold, condescending, and entirely predictable. Her insults are as sharp as a butter knife, and her attempts at being “mysterious” fall flat because we’ve seen this archetype a thousand times before. Neither of these characters feels real, and neither gives us a reason to care about them.
Meanwhile,
your protagonist does nothing. He’s a passive observer in his own story, standing there awkwardly while two NPCs fight over him like he’s the last generic male harem protagonist. He doesn’t make decisions, he doesn’t have opinions, and he certainly doesn’t have a personality. He’s just
there, like a mannequin being dragged from scene to scene. If you’re going to argue that “he’ll develop later,” let me stop you right there:
opening chapters aren’t the place for blank slates. If your protagonist doesn’t show any spark of agency or depth in the beginning, why should readers stick around for 50 more chapters hoping he’ll grow one?
And what about the plot? Oh, right—there isn’t one. Four chapters in, and all we’ve gotten is:
- The MC dies and gets summoned.
- Sliders.
- NPC marriage proposal.
- Edgelord steps in.
That’s it. Where’s the hook? Where’s the conflict? Where’s the
reason to keep reading? Don’t try to tell me “it’s coming later.” If your opening chapters are this boring, no one will stick around for the later chapters. It’s not “slow burn.” It’s a
creative traffic jam.
You might be tempted to argue that
“it’s just for fun” or “it’s not supposed to be serious.” Let me stop you there, too. Fun stories still need stakes. Lighthearted tales still need structure. Even the fluffiest, most trope-filled webnovels manage to maintain some level of pacing and purpose. What you’ve written so far isn’t fun—it’s tedious. And it’s not the medium’s fault; it’s yours.
I feel you’ll try the
“I’m experimenting” excuse, claiming that this is all part of your artistic process. Here’s the thing: experiments fail sometimes. This one failed without even starting properly. Acknowledge it, learn from it, and move on. Don’t try to hide behind the guise of experimentation to justify bad writing.
Or maybe you’ll point to positive comments from readers as proof that “people like it.” Sure, some readers might tolerate mediocrity, but that doesn’t make it good. If all you care about is pandering to the lowest common denominator, fine—but don’t pretend it’s beyond critique. Your readers deserve better side stories. Hell, even your MC deserves a better story, that is not cliche, that is with personality, and with MEANING.
Your opening chapters are a mess. They’re bloated, directionless, and drowning in filler. You need to cut the fluff by destroying the prologue entirely, tighten the pacing so people are still engaged with "future plot", and actually introduce a plot worth following, not "MC dies, becomes the second coming of cringe, and fades to obscurity". Give your protagonist a personality. Make your side characters more than walking tropes. And for the love of storytelling,
stop dragging your feet. You’re writing a webnovel, not an endless slideshow of unrelated scenes.
Right now, your "side" story isn’t just slow—it’s actively repelling readers. If you don’t fix that, it doesn’t matter how much effort you put into world-building or character arcs later on, because no one’s going to stick around to see them. Do better. You owe it to your story—and your readers—to actually try.
