Site Post » Reviews! Round 41 · 10:59am Apr 13th, 2014
Seattle's Angels is a group that promotes good stories with low views. You can find us here.
A picture is worth a thousand words. Forty-one of those are ‘blood.’ Welcome… to Seattle’s Angels.
In Fimfic community news today, Obselescence has devoured Alexstrazsa. Or… his beard has. We’re not sure. When asked for comment, site moderator Obselescence emphatically denied this claim.
“That’s ridiculous,” he urged, as half a torso and a pair of legs were slowly drawn as if by the convulsions of peristalsis further into a beard that, being fair but not excessive in size should not have been able to do as it now did. “Everyone knows that flesh-eating beards were banned from the site. This is the worst kind of slander,” he insisted, quickly turning to pummel the still living, still struggling body of Alexstrazsa into submission. Intern ambion asked Alexstrazsa for his take on this development, but all he got was a muffled, indistinct voice as if echoing from a great chasm, a sudden shriek and what sounded quite like the crunching of bone.
In other news, dear readers, it seems I have become a plum. I’m not sure how this happened, or how it is possible that I still communicate with you as I continue to do, or even how I can wonder about this, seeing as I no longer have the brain, spinal cord, and assorted nervous systems usually considered necessary to do so. More on this story as it develops.
Oh good, intern ambion has just come back. Did you get any comment out of Alexstrazsa? Wait, those hungry eyes… I am a plum, yes, but I am still your supervisor. No, put me down! Don’t polish my supple purple skin on your shirt. Readers, I do not know if fruit feels pain, but if I should momentarily begin screaming take that to mean probably yes!
I don’t know if anyone can see this, but I will go on as long as I can, oh gods the teeth, the teeth!
AND NOW, DEAR READERS, THE WEATHER:
ROUND 41
Vinyl Scratch, an up and coming, heavy hitting producer is thrown together with a shadow veiled, classically trained composer as they each try to make a living in the celebrity ridden streets of Canterlot. Little do they know, however, they will have to wade through the pressures of fame and popularity, heinous conspiracies and silver tongued threats, before they can walk the golden road of their fulfilled dreams.
What's this? A story with Octavia and Vinyl, and it's not got the romance tag? What is this sorcery? Everyone knows they're in love and/or some sort of supernatural creature. Usually both.
"Oh hey, what's that story you're reading, there?"
"Oh, nothing. Just some lesbian vampire horse fanfiction on the internet
I must say, however, that this portrayal is rather... unique. Octavia on her training final mission before becoming a fully-fledged ninja, having descended from a long line of the shadow-warriors is not something every story has, but that may be to their detriment. Best yet, it feels like Octavia The Ninja, as opposed to Ninja Pony #331 wearing an Octavia mask, which is an extremely unusual thing to say considering Octavia has no canon personality. I suppose it's the fact the characterisation strikes close enough to the fanon Octavia to still bear the same theme, but carries this theme in a new direction (waving a katana while doing so). The same applies to Vinyl Scratch. Yes, she's a DJ (This just in: Pope confirmed to be Catholic), but stays away from the exceedingly dumb (and above all flat) DJ she's often portrayed as. The new take on the dynamic duo is really rather refreshing, and executed much better than I was expecting.
The fact that Octavia isn't a 2D cutout of the snobby musician-type and Vinyl more than a stereotypical bass-junkie places this one leaps and bounds ahead of a good proportion of similar stories, but the story itself is actually entertaining to boot. Two pieces of criticism I would level at the author, however:
Please don't hyperlink music mid-story. And if you must do so, please make hyperlinks that work
If you're going to have action scenes that feature the word "decapitated", you should probably have the gore tag. I'll admit, fimfic's guidelines are a bit blurred on this topic, but I'm pretty sure that counts.
Still, this one's probably among the most amusing I've found so far, in spite of aforementioned problems. The fight scenes are reasonably well executed, the jokes light-hearted, and the characters enjoyable.
People looking for a story with feel-good comedy and the occasional spot of ass-kicking ninja action should definitely give this one a shot.
Octavia is a ninja. Well, almost a ninja. All she has to do is shadow a DJ and keep said DJ not-dead, and she’ll be a ninja for realsies.
Certainly a unique premise to open with.
A City of Opportunities takes the conventional approach of mashing these two characters together in kissy-kissy motions and turns that on its head. Now don’t me wrong, I’m a great advocate for kissy-kissy, but that’s besides the point entirely. What we have here in ACoO is action, adventure, and intrigue. And katanas. Well, a single katana.
For all that stuff about being a ninja (Well, almost a ninja) Octy comes across as really quite sheltered, naive to an extent, and the story is as much a growing-up story as it is a swish-swish-schwing! one. Really, the naievete is quite cute, and all the more so for being unexpected (yet working so well) in a setting where, it may have been mentioned, there are katanas.
Well, a single katana.
But yes, it was very pleasing to find here that she is, in truth, Octavia, and just so happens to be a ninja (almost) rather than being a Ninja that happens to be named Octavia.
To put it another way, first and foremost she’s a relatable character, not a cookie-cutter reprint of some kind of brooding, overly-skilled anti-hero, (of which there are so, so many) and the unusual circumstances in which she was raised have not taken away the ability to relate to her. Rather, they’ve added (and limited) Octavia's pool of experience to help shape a believable - and of ultimate importance - enjoyable iteration of the character, with room to grow, in whatever ways that may come to be.
Vinyl is played to much the same strengths, namely that her apparently defining qualities aren’t her only qualities. She’s dynamic, capable of noise and quiet, of sincerity and deviousness, thoughtlessness and intelligent observation, making for a scope of possible interactions far broader and more engaging than many, more conventional TaviScratch narratives could ever allow for.
A fun story, if perhaps a little more violent than the tags tell. With action, reaction and interaction aplenty, it manages to have characterisation meshed intimately into the workings of an adventure story, a quality overlooked by all too many writers these days, when ‘action’ seems to be the final word on a one-word recipe.
Scootaloo has never had the best luck. Her parents never seem to get along, she's moved seven times in her eleven years of life, and she'll never be able to be like other pegasi. But in the past year, things have been looking up for her. She's made friends, and it seems like she might be staying in one place for a little while.
Then, without any warning, her parents decide that the family will be living in Cloudsdale with Scootaloo's grandmother.
In her frustration, Scootaloo writes a letter to Rainbow Dash, never intending to send it . . . and to her surprise, chooses to contine writing. Over the course of several months, Scootaloo learns secrets about her family, her idol, and maybe even herself,
What's this? Scootaloo writing letters to Rainbow Dash that are never sent? Good god, here we go. Best get ready for all the Scootasad feels that'll be hurled our way. I swear, it seems impossible to find a story which doesn't have scootaloo dying a bunch, or have her parents die tragically, or so on, and so on...
"It's a rather dim attempt to capture the same shock and awe. And that's the thing about shock:
once you're doing it about every five minutes it just stops being special." ~ Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw
But what's this? No tragedy tag? Not even a sad? It's slice of life?! And Scootaloo's parents aren't dead? I think I may need a lie-down...
Okay, I must clarify. Scootaloo's life sucks in this one (I'm pretty sure that's a requirement), but this story is less about explaining to the reader why they should pity the poor little orphan filly who'll never fly and never get a cutie mark and never get her parents back or what-have-you. Scootaloo's parents are definitely going through a rough patch, with the titular letters to RD expressing how the young pegasus deals with such a turbulent time. It's a pretty decent attempt, all told.
It took me a little while to realise this, but the way this story's written is actually quite clever. The occasional conversationalist tone, and relatively mediocre syntax are deliberate (I assume), and are part of Scootaloo's character, not the author's. Once I factored this in, it became more engaging, helping me engage with the story.
One final note would be the fact that this story is so much more subtle than the majority of Scootasads out there. It doesn't feature graphic descriptions of Scootaloo being beaten by one pony or another, but the mention that she might expect a beating from them has the same effect, or an even greater one. Overall, I found this one to be not too shabby.
IN A WORLD, WHERE-
Scootaloo is always being writ as an orphan, or getting killed all the time, but otherwise invariably is the most short-stick-getting filly of the fandom, it’s difficult to find a story where one can actually be made to feel pathos-de-Scoots.
Before someone shoots me in the kneecaps, let me clarify - I love Scootaloo. You love Scootaloo. Everyone loves Scootaloo (but if you don’t that’s okay too), but her character gets so inundated with sad/tragedy/dark/sad/moar-sad that eventually they all blur together, and get dismissed out of hand.
To paraphrase The Incredibles: “When all Scootaloos are sad, no Scootaloos are.”
Not the case with Dear Rainbow Dash! Less is definitely more; it’s not even tagged sad, dark, tragedy, or any of that schtick.
And it’s right not to be. This is slice of life through and through. The very nature of the fic, given as a series of letters, is the very definitive in ‘slice’, and life is just that - the mundane, the daily, the things of a normal life.
And hell if this didn’t evoke some serious pathos because of that. I kid you not, this modest-seeming SoL has the refined, mature melancholy of any dozen sad-Scoots you care to bludgeon me with.
The use of first person (what with being letters, of course) is used very well, making the story an incredibly personal, at times almost invasive trip in which we tag along with Scoot’s inner self, the thoughts, feelings, resentments, whims and aspirations of everyday life. She narrates these letters that in no uncertain terms are the catharsis of her constant struggle to cope and adjust from what she had to what she has, and the parallels that can be drawn between this narrative and reality are many.
An evocative story, one to remind the weary reader just what Scootaloo is -and what she isn’t- and a very fine example of the Slice of Life genre done right.
Big Mac's delivery route is a little different from Applejack's. It's also different from each delivery before it. But he has a map and a will. And he will not let himself be stopped.
Written for Writer's Training Grounds #011: "Somepony to Watch Over Me"
Big Macintosh wishes chimeras were the only things he had to contend with on his delivery route. What he goes up against is far, far worse...
If I were to sum this story up in a nutshell, it would be "Simple". It knows what it set out to do, does it quick, does it clean, and finds enough time to put a few jokes in-between. The entirety of the story can be summed up by "Big Mac makes a delivery to a very distant customer"
Big Mac walks east...
To quickly mention the technical side of things, this story is best described as "adequate". No-one will be reduced to tears by the majesty of its prose, but I found very little to complain about. At least this author didn't attempt to pick my playlist for me...
Regardless, I suppose I should mention the characterisation, but to do so for most would spoil their arrival, so I'll stick with Big Mac:
He's definitely Big Mac.
Readers who appreciate a slightly more abstract form of humour will definitely find this one to their liking. The main source of entertainment is to be found in the places he visits along his journey, as well as the people therein. From caverns to Queens, manticores and even the occasional supernatural spirit, the way the stoic stallion interacts with each provides a quiet chuckle, as he carries on his way.
A quick read, certainly, and definitely not a bad one.
Perhaps not the strongest story to find itself touched by an angel (good touch, I assure you!), I nonetheless quite liked this one. The Long Delivery takes us on A Short Sabbatical through a nonsensical landscape of imagery, surreal and oh so rich with imaginative mystery.
The story is somewhat susceptible to grammatical error, I won’t pretend it isn’t, but to those readers with a tolerance for such trifling matters, the read is well worth the time for the array of disparate noises, colours, and sensations our calm and stoic Big Macintosh leads us through. Several moments throughout make for little smiles, as the bizarre and nonsensical, at times, swaps places with the immediately recognizable, giving a sort of familiarity to the hazy-dream like qualities that exudes from this story. These little moments along the way lead us on to the ending, which pulls much the same style of stylistic swap, on a grander scale, hopefully turning a little smile to a big one.
A colourful story, free of the usual trappings of plot and characterization, instead letting itself be a happy and simple romp through imagination and wonderment, all quick enough to read with tea.
When Private Fleethoof recognized his dream and joined the Royal Guard, he never thought he would ever experience the might of Equestria's military firsthand. But when Equestria's safety is threatened by an old enemy, he'll find out just what sacrifices war and survival demand, what it truly means to serve for Princess and country, and just how important some friendships can be. See the war through the eye-witness account of a soldier on the front lines, all taken from one enduring journal.
YES JAKE, WE ARE FINALLY REVIEWING THIS STORY. YOU CAN REST YOUR WEARY HEART NOW.
*ahem*
In case the title hadn’t tipped you off, this one’s a warfic, and I’ll start it off with a warning: It has ponies with guns. If ponies with guns is a thing that stretches your suspension of disbelief too far, then I don’t think this will be the story to change that for you. If you can stand the sight of ponies with mouth-grips and whatnot, then this is pretty much a must-read.
TGS:ASM follows young Private Fleethoof, fresh from bootcamp in Equestria's military, head full of dreams of the mighty General Fleethoof who must surely be arriving soon. And, as the title would suggest, defecation hits the oscillation, and this Royal Guard Reservist isn't quite so reservist any more.
War were declared
But yes. War were, indeed, declared, and Fleethoof certainly sees his fair share of the fighting. More so, in fact, as his sleepy beach-side billet is turned into First Contact with him slap-bang in the centre.
One thing I will admit to liking quite a lot is the way in which it's written. The story is framed by the idea that Princess Celestia is reading the journal of a pony who fought in the titular wars, and features plenty of excerpts and entries from said journal. But the story itself isn't completely bound by this form, and whisks the reader away into the scenes that have been recorded. A really rather nice way of handling it, I feel. The story is deeply personal, with very little about the war as a whole. It's about Fleethoof's part in it, just as you'd expect a journal to be.
Now, I must admit I'm not particularly well versed on modern military. Ask me about WWII-era fighting vehicles (land and air) and I've got a shot at knowing a thing or two, but once you get past the sixties, it's all sausage to me. Moreso than most on this site, being a Brit. Thankfully, however, a drill sergeant friend of mine was able to provide a bit more of an in-depth and personal opinion of how Equestria's military is portrayed. In a review he wrote, he compliments the fic for portraying life as a grunt with startling accuracy for someone who's never served, right down to the disappointing lack of .50cal freedom-slinging right out of basic. But the review tells us more than this.
In it, Jake mentions the fact that he's... put out, I suppose, by the fact that the guns the ponies have are exceedingly human. It doesn't make sense to have a shoulder stock when you walk on four legs, for example.
But I didn't notice this problem, and that's a great sign. Not only is the story well-written, and the characters nicely portrayed, but the author is willing to listen to constructive criticism, and actively accept advice on how to improve. And that alone makes this story worth praising to high heaven.
‘War’ is a very big word. Immense. Quite a number of writers try to encapsulate that only to fail, their efforts bad or worse, mediocre.
For a story to strike a balance in a war setting is certainly more difficult than doing the same in, say, a SoL setting.
This leads us to The Griffon War: A Soldier’s Memoirs. Ancient myth tells us that griffons are the eaters of horses (probably a sign of hostility), but in bronydom the griffons occupy a kind of memetically enforced null-zone. As tends to be the case put forward, what with ponies and magic and more pones than one can shake a stick at, Equestria tends to be portrayed as this rather unstoppable, unmatchable force of a nation/empire/principality(?)/whatever.
Here, that preassigned supremacy is tossed right out the window. We see the world through a character who is remarkable in his ordinariness, a casual person caught up in events bigger than his perception or understanding.
The use of the journal adds an emotional dichotomy to the story. It both gives us access to the inner being of the character of Fleetfoot while at the same time pushing us aside, as if saying that has happened, has happened, and that while one can read the words and imagine what the character went through, the association from that is not at all the same to the association of having fought and bled and died together.
Heavy stuff, granted, but done in a way that does not try to force the weight of it down any reader’s throat. This can be read for the action alone, and that would be enough to carry the story. It can be read for the journal entries alone, and that too would be enough to carry the story. Independently, each component is self-sufficient, and I don’t think it would be wrong at all to say that different readers would take away different impressions in reading this.
An interesting story. One of many that attempts to work with the idea of war in coloured-pony land, and more successful in its endeavour than most. There’s a spectrum of emotion here, with action to satisfy a reader’s bloodlust and introspection to consider the implications of that, too.
Welcome back, dear readers. As you hopefully can tell, I am not dead. Or at least, as not-dead as any of us can ever truly hope to be. I am still a plum, and that is something of an inconvenience. I still don’t know if any of this is reaching you, being as it may that I don’t fully trust the apparent sensory input and cognitive abilities of a small, rather sweet-tasting fruit.
But really, readers, can we have ever trusted our senses, or our minds? Has anything really changed? Perhaps. Or perhaps...not at all.
Anyway, I thought I heard intern ambion coming back, but I guess not. He might have said something, I’m not sure. It was kind of muffled. It sort of sounded like it were coming from far away, as if from a chasm. There might have been a muffled scream and the sudden sharp crunching of bones, but this is Seattle’s Angels, and if we stopped business to raise a fuss every time that happened, why, we’d never get anything done!
Good night, dear readers, good night.
Feel free to visit our group for more information and events, and to offer some recommendations for future rounds. See you all next time!
hmm, with book one of Knights of the Everfree about to wrap up, I wonder if book two will get listed on here...
Ok... that's, um... that's cool, I guess.
2005959
Would you say this blog post made you... Flabbergasted?
I know... I suck.
2006026
I hope you die a horrible death.
Whatever. Here's a constellation prize you cheeky cunt, mate.
2006029
i.imgur.com/0B8iAeu.png
2006030
I improved upon your design.
i.imgur.com/gu8lUDW.jpg
2006040
I'm gonna add that one to my trophy case
2006042
Gimme a sec.
2006042
Done.
i.imgur.com/P9xgSc8.jpg
Writing with a mouse is harder than my dick was this whole ordeal.
2006058
2006061
Quote of the year. Somebody bring me some fucking Scotch.
2006152
i.imgur.com/bkfftUS.jpg
I still remember when that plagued the website.
It was only a matter of time before the SA reviewers and Fimfic staff started eating each other. Makes me wonder where in the food chain our resident helicoprion will be.
Ninjas are not the same as spies. No big deal. A City of Opportunities still sounds like it'll keep me satisfied in the wake of JohnPerry's final Mission: Implausible story.
Thank goodness there's only one title that catches my interest this time; my RL list may never empty out.
2006437
At the top, naturally.
I do love me some plums.
2006697
mfw
i.imgur.com/zJe41Pc.gif
2006864
2006697
You can never be too sure. For all we know, red squirrels could have a taste for extinct sharkmeat.
2006884
To be fair, squirrels and helicoprions often fight for top of the chain. It's a constant struggle for supremacy.
2006897
And then there are socks which, while usually inedible, can be deadly in great numbers. As for pavs and alexes... I wish them luck.
2006913
Socks stand no chance.
2006913
2006934
One would think black panthers are pretty high up in the running.
2007049
Certainly ahead of socks, no doubt.
2007049
Oh is that what you're supposed to be? Damn you... Engrish, is it?
2007055
It's actually both broken English and broken Japanese at the same time (the actual Engrish for "black" is "burakku", but I was like ten years old when I first made this name).
2007113
Oh my god is that what that is
2007114
Haha, yep.
'Bout damn time y'all reviewed The Griffon Wars...
Wow, I was really surprised to find my story here. And I've now succeeded in my goal of having someone I follow say something vaguely positive about my work. One of these days I really have to go and edit that story again.
2007113
The mystery is solved. Literally blew my mind.
I wonder... If you plant the good professor's remains, does he become a tree, or does he become a dean?
ALL HAIL THE GLOW CLOUD
ALL HAIL
THE GLOW CLOUD
PESTILLENCE DEATH FORESTS HAIR INTERNS HELICOPTERS DOG PARK
That has been a sponsored message from EqD.
http://i.imgur.com/KpV3Ct4.gif