9. Visions
Equestria was in flames, ash and soot covered the ground, orange fires spewed out of windows and doorways like a dragon's maw, black smoke clouded the sun. Micheal leapt to his feet, looking at the ruined and musty bed that he had laid down on, Barreta already in hand. Seeing a still complete, albeit cracked window, and a surge of fire roaring through the door, he charged at the glass, and hurtled through, as a stream of fire seared his back.
Micheal's eyes snapped open, looking around, he found himself back in Aetherium, the Princesses, the Mane 6, and Brian all slept peacefully. Salty sweat dripped down Micheal's forehead, his pulse quickened, and he took small, raspy breaths. Deciding to get something to drink, he stepped slowly out of the well worn bed, as his eyes became adjusted to the darkness. Ancient, hoof woven tapestries draped the walls, the room was painted aquamarine blue, a small crystal chandelier hung on the ceiling, swinging gently in the solar winds.
As he stepped outside of the room, shutting the oak door behind, he thought about the dream. Equestria in flames, an army ravaging the town, and a Johan's giant, translucent face gloating over Micheal, the sound of his laughter rung in his ears. As Micheal made his way into the nearest kitchen, he fingered the small, golden crucifix adorning his neck alongside his dog tags. He was dressed in his combat jacket, a slightly stained white T-Shirt, a brown leather belt, combat fatigues, and his well-worn charcoal black combat boots. His footsteps were nearly silent on the carpeted floors, yet made a soft CLUNK sound on the tiles of the kitchen. He whistled to himself as he entered, a found Gold Blade at the dining table. Looking at his watch, Micheal found it was almost 4:50 AM. Gold Blade was eating a wheat sandwich with what appeared to be mustard, his sword lay next to the chair, just in hoof's reach.
Upon hearing Micheal's arrival, Gold Blade swallowed his food, before a warm smile came to his face, the slightest hint of his fangs showing. Clearing his throat, he said to Micheal, "Ah, Celestia's guest. Micheal, was it? What brings you here this fine morning?" to which Micheal replied by grabbing a glass, pouring water into it, and chugging it down.
Feeling a rumbling in his stomach, Micheal inspected the silver and black metal fridge, the light a bit TOO bright when he opened it. Looking inside, he found ham, mayonnaise, egg custard, among an assortment of other foods. Picking out some simple bacon, he heated it in the microwave, and set it down, sitting directly across from Blade. Their was a slight hungry look in his eyes, but Micheal passed it off as hunger for food.
"So, how have you been Blade?" Micheal asked, striking up a conversation. Micheal suddenly saw a vision of a rifle in his hands, executing POWs in a concentration camp,but this quickly faded as it began. Blinking, Micheal went back to eating his bacon.
"I've been good. The food here might be tasty, but my mother's cooking was always best." Gold Blade said, before finishing at the moment Micheal did. "Have a nice day Verräter." before trotting away.
(Verräter-German for traitor, Micheal knows only a few words, and even fewer phrases, in German)
"Verräter?" Micheal asked, before a vision filled his mind. He looked around, seeing various Nazi infantry in what appeared to be a desolated town. A BMQ R12 was parked nearby. Micheal looked down, noticing an MP 18 sub machine gun was in his gloved hands. A PARRA-37 combat knife lay sheathed on his right arm, a Luger P08 lay clipped to his belt in his holster. His legs, and those of his companions, moved of their own accord, so were his arms. He passed over a battered Russian soldier, his left leg and some of his fingers at been blown off. Micheal could barely make out what the man was saying, but he guessed it was something along the lines of a swear. His arms raised up, rifle in hand, almost like he was a puppet, and fired a few rounds into the man's skull, a grim smile appearing on the face he now wore. They did this any other survivors they located.
His location changed then. He was now, according to an tag on his chest, a British Naval Officer named William Masterson. He wore a worn, navy blue jacket, dusty charcoal gray work pants, a damaged loafers. He was in a wooden cabin with several other men, one Micheal recognized as Avery Hunt, an Irish Intelligence officer he had gone to elementary school with. Avery wore a maroon sweater, dark blue Levis, and worn combat boots. He appeared to be righting a letter to home, berhaps his wife, Mary, or his nephew Carter. As Michel in Will's body went up to Avery, he turned his head to William, and, in a cold voice that Micheal had never heard him use, he said (And please imagine it in an Irish accent), "Ah, well look who it is. Ol' Masterson, let meh guess. The arse-lickers sent ya to spy on us again? Well tell Heinrik and his gang of milk-drinkas, that we ain't talking. Unlike you boyo, you've gone and sold yaself out to 'em for their blood momey. Ya make me ashamed to call you a friend.", Micheal then looked down, and stared in horror at the swastika and Iron Cross of Valor pinned to the jacket of William.
"Well, I gotcha a lil present fo ya Willy. Take this!" Avery yelled, before hastily unsheathing a large Jambia dagger he had stolen from a guard, elbowed Micheal/William, knocking him to the ground, and repeatedly jabbing the Jambia into his jugular, screaming Irish and Gaelic curses, as the floor and walls were stained crimson.
As William bled out, Micheal returned to the waking world, as darkness overtook his vision, he lost consciousness, and fell onto the ice cold marble floor....
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3067157 thank you and you also ca,e here to read bout ponies
1703090 My uncle is a Cheif Petty Officer. and a former SEAL
I am sorry, but I simply cannot review this fic in detail. It is so awful and has so many things wrong with it, that I give up before even 200 words. Instead, I will riff it. You're going to have to wait for at least next week for the riff. I'll write up a short review for your story tonight, though.
Here is my short review of this fic.
I honestly do not know what to say. Please tell me that this is a trollfic. Please tell me that this is a crackfic. Please tell me this whole fic is just a joke. Please tell me that you are not serious. What the fuck is this shit?
I cannot find anything nice to say about this fic. This is quite possibly the absolutely worst story I have read on this site. I can't even find any unintentional humor or ironic charm in it. I tried. Really, I tried. I remember why I forgot to review this story: it's so awful that I couldn't even get through the first three chapters! Well, I forced my way through, and I really did have to force myself through it. Never have I sat through 9K words which contained 21K words worth of plot and felt like 47K words.
The characters are completely unrelatable. Your protagonist is a massive wish fulfillment Sue. You can say that he has flaws, or that he's not wish fulfillment, but I'm not buying that. Always right. Always wins. Nothing truly bad happens to him permanently. Has he ever meaningfully failed entirely by his own folly in a way that actually had major consequences that stuck? No. Does he have any characters flaws that actually cause him meaningful pain? No. You can even try to play the convenient PTSD card, but that only turns him from a shit character into a shitty, insulting character. As for the rest of the cast, none of them behaved or spoke like themselves. You threw in so many new OC's so rapidly that I gave up on even caring that they existed.
The plot is convoluted beyond comprehension. Shit just happens, and coincidence takes the place of good storytelling. This is the most hurried, breakneck pacing I've ever seen in a fic. It's not even compact; it's just insanely fucking fast. I have no idea what I just read, what any of it meant, why any of it happened, or how it happened.
Your historical accuracy and pretentions to realism seem to have come from the Dan Brown school of fact checking, in that they are both extremely minimal, and instead of even bothering to look up easily found information, you just made shit up or took wild guesses. Seriously, this isn't even the Saturday morning cartoon, or even the theme park version of World War Two. This is the completely-not-giving-a-shit version. Another thing is that you epically fail with almost every single element relating to weapons, military, and mythology. And I'm not one of those obsessives who freaks out if even the smallest detail is wrong. I'm talking about there being multiple incidents of critical research failure -- getting stuff wrong that's common knowledge! You don't need to be an expert, but having at least cursory relevant knowledge would have been infinitely better. You could have done the damn research as you went along, as I often do when I write. You fucked up so many elements of WWII that it's just insulting. Yes, you've actually made a fic that I find absolutely offensive.
Your grammar and syntax had loads of problems. Three of your biggest ones were forgetting commas, having massive description dumps, and forgetting to add spaces between sentences. There were times when you transcended the limitations of sentences and paragraphs.
Your story is absolutely awful. I cannot find any redeeming features whatsoever. Not only is it completely wretched, without even the slightest redeeming charm or interesting absurdity, but it is actually offensive. And you invoked the name of The Descendant, and the title of his story, The Youth in the Garden, in the first chapter. The former is a fantastic writer, and the latter is a story I personally love. Thank you for tainting them in my mind. How is it possible for a story to be this bad!? This is the worst fic I have ever read. It is the first story I have ever given my lowest score. You get 1/10 flutteryays.
3080803 ...Beautiful. Some beautiful shit right here.
3080803 Is there anything left to poke at man?
3080803 Dude, is historical accuracy actually a point? It isn't the focus. Plus, it lasted for barely a chapter, the main point is the ponies. Plus, call it alternate history
3090369 I doubt you could miss the point any more if you were aiming the gun up your nose
3090369 I have never seen someone miss the point of a review so very badly.
Yes, historical accuracy matters. If you're referencing an actual thing that actually happened here on earth (like WWII and the nazis and so on) and do not have the alternate universe tag on your story, it needs to have at least a cursory effort at being accurate. To be frank, it seems you didn't even really try.
Also, it appears you dropped acid halfway through the story.
Also, you never microwave bacon. Heathen.
3090369
If it's alt-hist, then fucking warn us at the outset! You were earlier claiming that you just didn't know real life history. Since you were too lazy to fix it, you've gone and claimed that it's be an alternate history the whole time, And yet there's no warning or sign that it's an alternate history fic. Nobody is a telepath. Still doesn't excuse any of the other numerous faults I discussed.
3090237
1/10 is as low as I go. And to get there, you not only have to be atrociously bad without even any sort of accidental humour or bile fascination too offset it, but also it must be seriously offensive. This is the second story that has actually made me legitimately angry, and I've been reading fanfiction since I was thirteen -- for just over 7 years now.
3090369
24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m1yjjvClrv1r2zvsmo1_400.jpg
3090369 Motherfucker, are you high?
3090369
If that's the case, why do you focus on your boring OCs so much, to the detriment of the pony characters? Luna, Celestia, and the main six are all so utterly homogeneous in this fic that it would be impossible to determine who they were without the names, which feel more like little tags applied to mannequins. Actually, all the characters are a bit like that, really. They behave in robotic, insane ways that no believable character would. They're literally insane, in that their actions do not correspond to outside stimuli, in any way.
So no. It's not about the ponies, at all. They're so sidelined by the utterly forgettable humans, that they barely qualify as a supporting cast. You miss the point. You fail it. You lose! Good day sir!
Also, you apparently hit up the shrooms partway through. The only way this could get worse would be if you revealed Michael was actually Captain America all along.
3090982 revealing that he's actually Captain America would actually make more sense than the rest of this drek tbh
3090947 I looked D-Day on Wikipedia. Also, if yah want another fic to bash, here's my page! http://www.fimfiction.net/user/Diokno44
3091013
You mean to tell me that you had to look up facts of one of the more awful moments in WWII on Wiki? Just how stupid are you, lad?
3091013
If you had read the Wikipedia article, you'd know that he British were instrumental in launching Operation Overlord, and took part in droves. You'd know that generals do not typically take place in frontline fighting, and didn't in this case. You'd know that mortars do not behave like smoke bombs. You'd know that the American forces didn't use RPGs at the time, and you'd know that the battle on the beaches of Normandy was much larger and more involved than the theme park attraction you portrayed. I refuse to believe you did any research before writing this.
Do you even know anything about MLP? Hey, here's a hint... giving the princesses gaming systems doesn't make them believably characterised.
3090940 what if said bacon is cold?
3091060 you stop being lazy and you pull out a goddamned frying pan to heat it up
you don't microwave it
it turns into rubber when you do that
3091013
Well, you did get the date and region right. I was professional with my review to the best of my ability. As for your other stories, I plan on stay as far away as possible. This is your most highly rated one, and it exposed me to new extremes of awful. I do not want to even imagine what the rest might be like.
Also, listen to Dancer, Axel, Atlas, Sunder, and Barata. And don't you dare microwave bacon!
3091066
Best Bacon is grilled bacon. fuck the stove.
3091149 stove is fine in a pinch and MUCH better than microwaving
grilled, preferably wrapped around a steak or shrimp or scallops is best use of bacon
oh, and bacon-wrapped water chestnuts are awesome
itt: bacon
s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/tumblr_l51h4xayhf1qziulwo1_1280.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAI6WLSGT7Y3ET7ADQ&Expires=1377312287&Signature=uPwHoloe10PM3Yt0XxH%2BVfOfHGc%3D#_=_
3091168
>not mentioning the mighty grilled cheese bacon sammich
you sicken me
3091174 I'm not big on cheese because it makes me ill :(
But it deserves an honorable mention.
3091179
Grilled bacon, marinated with tequila/alcohol of choice
>I have tasted heaven, and FUCK THIS WORLD
3091184 grilled bacon, chopped up and thrown into french cut beans that have been COOKED IN BACON GREASE with some garlic, salt, and pepper (paprika if you're feelin fancy)
3091168
3091103 K, 1. What am I suppose to do if my bacon gets cold? And 2, here are some of my better fits:
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/55838/the-guardian-angel-of-ponyville
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/65629/night-will-fall-and-the-dark-will-rise
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/57386/the-equestrian-empire
Oh. Ok, but wouldn't that turn the bacon harder if I fry it?
3091192 1. I answered that
2. If those are your better fics I think maybe you should go back to the drawing board.
3091190
... i have use of both hands, a grill, a free night, mary by my side, some alcohol, some bacon, and fuel and charcoal. i have some spices. FUCK IT. GRILLIN' TIME!
3091192 Heathen. It gets CRISPY, not HARD. This is another example of you talking about things you don't fully understand
research is your friend
3091192
>Not liking it hard
you sicken me
(hue)
3091201 HELL YES
GIVE YO LADY SOME DELICIOUS MEAT.
3091192 DON'T FUCKING MICROWAVE IT, YOU DUNCE.
3091191
>no bacon
JESUS CHRISTO, AYUDA ESTE POBRE HOMBRE!
3091207
OH MY!
I'm going to quote you on this one.
3091216 I expect nothing less
go get yo foods boy
3067157 Do we HAVE to point out the poor characterization, bland writing, horribafuckus grammar and spelling, and just plain awfulness? Claiming to not know history excuses NOTHING!
3067157
>implying our biggest problem with this story is the historical inaccuracy
you poor, misguided soul.
3091276 I'm still stuck on the bacon tbh
3091277
as i said.
personally, i think this man should be thrown into the dimensional portal to no-bacon-world.
3091268 let me guess, the main characterization flaw is that they are too trusting of Micheal? That it?
3091291
And you get one point, sir. You still have a fucktonillion more flaws to get through, so have at it.
Yo, I'mma let you finish, but Angela Lansbury led one of the best completely implausible soldier marches OF ALL TIME!
3091291 Let me put this in a way you might understand: To have characterization flaws, you need to have character in the first place.
3091291
If I might step in... no. It's the fact that nobody reacts to the situations they are presented with in a believable manner. There's no first contact procedure. No "I'm just hallucinating" reaction, followed by mental scarring, from any of the humans. No disbelief that lasts longer than around two lines of dialogue, actually. The characters aren't dynamic, in that their thoughts and emotions never last for longer than a single scene, at best. Massive sections of things which could be interesting, or even character defining in the case of Michael's talk with the guardspony, are simply glossed over.
3091318 Yeah, these aren't the ponies--these are ponyquins with crudely made crayon drawings of their faces pinned on.
3091243
Hooray for Nostalgia Critic! Now I know how he felt after Garbage Pail Kids.
3091268
I am back, and with booze!
3091329 Good, we're gonna need some for this shite!
3091329>>3091336 and I have some hard cider. Ahhh, I love me some life. Gang's all here and we're eating, drinking, and reading a fic. Good times.