The Last to Comment Wins

Tempokai

Tempokai

The Overworked One
Joined
Nov 16, 2021
Messages
1,396
Points
153
I'm winning currently by finishing sorting my clothes. Found ones that I never wore, and placed them on top when I need to wear proper not work clothes
 
JayMark

JayMark

It's Not Easy Being Nobody, But Somebody Has To.
Joined
Jul 31, 2024
Messages
1,732
Points
128
Tempokai said:
I'm winning currently by being bored
Click to expand...
42pame.jpg
 
Shiriru_B

Shiriru_B

Book binge in progress.
Joined
Nov 1, 2020
Messages
356
Points
133
I just found out that if you breathed through your mouth while you were a teenager to your adult age you can develop a weak jaw, interesting.
 
Tempokai

Tempokai

The Overworked One
Joined
Nov 16, 2021
Messages
1,396
Points
153
  1. Vanity of vanities, saith the Critic,
    Yea, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.
  2. I descended into the temple of fiction,
    wherein the words of mortals did sprawl.
    I sought wonder among the pages, and found none.
    I sought fire, and beheld only ash.
    I sought soul, but the breath of life had departed.
  3. Lo, what did I find within this webnovel,
    that was written not in faith but in jest?
    Behold, a great heap of tropes,
    yoked together with iron chains of imitation.
  4. The Author did raise a carcass of stories past,
    stitching sinew to sinew with no breath therein,
    and anointed it not with oil, but with irony.
    And he called it Genre Subversion, and saw that it was smug.
  5. But I, the Critic, did not marvel.
    Neither did I weep, for naught was lost.
    I beheld the pit,
    and in its darkness I saw the echo of the echo of an echo,
    the void made manifest, and it was called “Chapter Two.”
  6. For what is a tale that believeth not in its own telling?
    A shell without a soul, a song unsung,
    a prayer mouthed without conviction.
  7. The Author hath invoked the sacred Word,
    and dragged it through the Royal Road,
    yea, even unto the forums of readers,
    as a beast burdened with half-finished thoughts and ancient memes.
  8. And lo, the protagonist was cast into a world not of his making,
    borne by a god who mocketh,
    and forgetteth,
    and exposeth his naked form to the reader by way of sassy remark.
  9. “I am not bad looking,” saith the Protagonist, gazing into the lake.
    Thus was Narcissus raised anew,
    and he beheld himself, and sighed smugly.
  10. And the name of the protagonist was Daion,
    which in the tongue of men meaneth “Off-brand Energy Drink.”
    And his soul was empty,
    for the Author had not breathed into him life,
    but had uploaded r/iamverysmart into his personality core.
  11. Then spake the Critic unto the Author:
    Doest thou call this Creation?
    Doest thou name thy mimicry rebellion?
  12. Nay, child.
    Thou hast not rebelled. Thou hast capitulated.
    Thou hast knelt before the altar of Isekai,
    and offered them thy Dignity in tribute.
  13. A protagonist isekai’d by a god? Again.
    Without memory? Again.
    Sassy dialogue, like the scrolls of Reddit burned upon the altar of wit? Again.
  14. This is no new wine.
    It is the dregs of old barrels,
    poured into new skins,
    and the skins hath burst.
  15. Thy world is made of floating rocks and strange lights,
    yea, like unto sky-borne hallucination.
    Yet thy words have no weight;
    they float also, useless, purposeless, adrift in thine own void.
  16. Behold thy god, sarcastic and shapeless,
    a mirror reflecting not divinity, but thy own insecurity.
    For the god is as foolish as its creator,
    and the creator knoweth not the Law of Logos.
  17. For creation is divine,
    but persuasion is survival.
  18. And thou hast forsaken persuasion,
    casting aside logic, abandoning emotion,
    and mocking even thy own ethos before the reader could offer faith.
  19. I beheld a nameless soldier fall,
    and his death stirred me not.
    Neither horror, nor sorrow, nor even interest moved my soul.
    For he died not in tragedy,
    but in irrelevance.
  20. Thy world’s rules are as slurry,
    Omega energy mixed with floating swords and gravitation,
    stirred thrice and dumped without care.
    Thou hast made soup without seasoning,
    and called it worldbuilding.
  21. Thou speakest with many words,
    yet revealest nothing.
    Thou describest not to immerse,
    but to delay.
  22. And lo, I waited.
    And lo, I clicked.
    And lo, I turned away.
  23. Not because I lack patience,
    but because I possess sense.
    Yea, like Lot fleeing Sodom, I turned not again,
    lest I be turned into a pillar of salt and shame.
  24. For thou hast broken Logos, Pathos, and Ethos,
    and set them aflame in the square of thy storytelling.
    Thy tale is a mockery of tales.
  25. And so I speak not in cruelty, but in holy bitterness.
    Not all stories are worthy of salvation.
    Not all failures are noble.
  26. Some are but ego untempered by insight,
    a keyboard soaked in mimicry,
    a voice raised not in passion,
    but in vanity.
  27. And lo, I pronounce judgment:
    Damnatio memoriae.
    Let this story be struck from remembrance.
    Let it fade like a sigh in the desert of forgetfulness.
  28. For thou art not glorious enough to be damned,
    nor bright enough to be saved.
    Thou art not flame, nor frost.
    Thou art lukewarm, and shall be spit forth.
  29. Go now, and write again—but write with faith,
    or write no more.
    For thou hast built thy tower with matchsticks,
    and the winds of apathy have come.
  30. And it did not burn.
    It simply vanished.

I'm winning currently by listening to house music
 
JayMark

JayMark

It's Not Easy Being Nobody, But Somebody Has To.
Joined
Jul 31, 2024
Messages
1,732
Points
128
Tempokai said:
  1. Vanity of vanities, saith the Critic,
    Yea, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.
  2. I descended into the temple of fiction,
    wherein the words of mortals did sprawl.
    I sought wonder among the pages, and found none.
    I sought fire, and beheld only ash.
    I sought soul, but the breath of life had departed.
  3. Lo, what did I find within this webnovel,
    that was written not in faith but in jest?
    Behold, a great heap of tropes,
    yoked together with iron chains of imitation.
  4. The Author did raise a carcass of stories past,
    stitching sinew to sinew with no breath therein,
    and anointed it not with oil, but with irony.
    And he called it Genre Subversion, and saw that it was smug.
  5. But I, the Critic, did not marvel.
    Neither did I weep, for naught was lost.
    I beheld the pit,
    and in its darkness I saw the echo of the echo of an echo,
    the void made manifest, and it was called “Chapter Two.”
  6. For what is a tale that believeth not in its own telling?
    A shell without a soul, a song unsung,
    a prayer mouthed without conviction.
  7. The Author hath invoked the sacred Word,
    and dragged it through the Royal Road,
    yea, even unto the forums of readers,
    as a beast burdened with half-finished thoughts and ancient memes.
  8. And lo, the protagonist was cast into a world not of his making,
    borne by a god who mocketh,
    and forgetteth,
    and exposeth his naked form to the reader by way of sassy remark.
  9. “I am not bad looking,” saith the Protagonist, gazing into the lake.
    Thus was Narcissus raised anew,
    and he beheld himself, and sighed smugly.
  10. And the name of the protagonist was Daion,
    which in the tongue of men meaneth “Off-brand Energy Drink.”
    And his soul was empty,
    for the Author had not breathed into him life,
    but had uploaded r/iamverysmart into his personality core.
  11. Then spake the Critic unto the Author:
    Doest thou call this Creation?
    Doest thou name thy mimicry rebellion?
  12. Nay, child.
    Thou hast not rebelled. Thou hast capitulated.
    Thou hast knelt before the altar of Isekai,
    and offered them thy Dignity in tribute.
  13. A protagonist isekai’d by a god? Again.
    Without memory? Again.
    Sassy dialogue, like the scrolls of Reddit burned upon the altar of wit? Again.
  14. This is no new wine.
    It is the dregs of old barrels,
    poured into new skins,
    and the skins hath burst.
  15. Thy world is made of floating rocks and strange lights,
    yea, like unto sky-borne hallucination.
    Yet thy words have no weight;
    they float also, useless, purposeless, adrift in thine own void.
  16. Behold thy god, sarcastic and shapeless,
    a mirror reflecting not divinity, but thy own insecurity.
    For the god is as foolish as its creator,
    and the creator knoweth not the Law of Logos.
  17. For creation is divine,
    but persuasion is survival.
  18. And thou hast forsaken persuasion,
    casting aside logic, abandoning emotion,
    and mocking even thy own ethos before the reader could offer faith.
  19. I beheld a nameless soldier fall,
    and his death stirred me not.
    Neither horror, nor sorrow, nor even interest moved my soul.
    For he died not in tragedy,
    but in irrelevance.
  20. Thy world’s rules are as slurry,
    Omega energy mixed with floating swords and gravitation,
    stirred thrice and dumped without care.
    Thou hast made soup without seasoning,
    and called it worldbuilding.
  21. Thou speakest with many words,
    yet revealest nothing.
    Thou describest not to immerse,
    but to delay.
  22. And lo, I waited.
    And lo, I clicked.
    And lo, I turned away.
  23. Not because I lack patience,
    but because I possess sense.
    Yea, like Lot fleeing Sodom, I turned not again,
    lest I be turned into a pillar of salt and shame.
  24. For thou hast broken Logos, Pathos, and Ethos,
    and set them aflame in the square of thy storytelling.
    Thy tale is a mockery of tales.
  25. And so I speak not in cruelty, but in holy bitterness.
    Not all stories are worthy of salvation.
    Not all failures are noble.
  26. Some are but ego untempered by insight,
    a keyboard soaked in mimicry,
    a voice raised not in passion,
    but in vanity.
  27. And lo, I pronounce judgment:
    Damnatio memoriae.
    Let this story be struck from remembrance.
    Let it fade like a sigh in the desert of forgetfulness.
  28. For thou art not glorious enough to be damned,
    nor bright enough to be saved.
    Thou art not flame, nor frost.
    Thou art lukewarm, and shall be spit forth.
  29. Go now, and write again—but write with faith,
    or write no more.
    For thou hast built thy tower with matchsticks,
    and the winds of apathy have come.
  30. And it did not burn.
    It simply vanished.

I'm winning currently by listening to house music
Click to expand...
I had to read that roast twice and check out the story a little bit to confirm it deserved it.
Author has a raw seed of potential buried in all that unrefined prose.
Though I only skimmed the first chapter.
Do I feel like I want to defend this story though?

"Nah, I'd lose."
 
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